A German Holiday

Kind of like a Roman Holiday but totally different in every possible way. And Audrey Hepburn would've probably called me a lush, a glutton and a heathen after she heard about my trip to Deutschland.  I went for 5 days to visit a good friend of mine, Ricarda, whom I met on my first day in Turin.  She did a semester abroad at my university then went to Austria to do an internship at Sony and she'd just returned to her homeland when she insisted I come visit for a few days.  Naturally, as you all well know by now, I couldn't resist an opportunity to collect more passport stamps.  Plus Ricarda flew in from Austria to surprise me on my birthday, I simply had to return the sentiment and go see her in Germany.

Rathaus on the Elbe River in Hamburg, Germany.

Reuniting with Ricarda in Deutschland!

Due to the near impossibility of direct travel to Germany from Italy, I chose an out-of-the-way flight leaving from outside Milan and arriving in a town outside Hamburg.  Ricarda met me at the airport and accompanied me on the bus ride into the city - we spent that time catching up on summer happenings and dishing about everyone from school (as is necessary between friends).  Once in the center we took a short walking tour and sat down near the Elbe River for a drink.  Later we made our way to her friend Meike's (pronounced like our Micah) house and had an amazing dinner of grilled meats, kraut and potato salad.  Meike was a bit shy to speak English with me, but once we opened the second bottle of prosecco she'd opened up a treasure trove of vocabulary and had the most adorable 1940s accent.

Hamburger!  I'm American so of course I think that's funny.

Being silly with some Urkel glasses.

We sat around her cute patio for a few hours just chatting, me often just listening to their German and trying to imagine what they were saying.  We had plans to go out on the town as Hamburg is apparently well know for its nightlife.  And when did we leave the house, you ask?  1:30AM!  How European is that?  Back home if we'd left at 1:30 the next 30 minutes would be looking for parking and we'd have to head home once we arrived downtown.  But not in Europa.  1:30AM translates to party o'clock over here.  We took the metro to the Reeperbahn, which was (if you want a blunt and rather accurate description) the equivalent of Bourbon Street if it had a lovechild with The Red Light District.  Did anyone else know that prostitution is legal in Germany?  Yeah not me.  In Italy that's a no-go.  So that was a Hamburg experience I'll never forget.  We found some non-shady places to dance and toward sunrise o'clock we popped into a karaoke bar to sing the night away, much to my delight.  Awesomely bad song selection of the evening: Backstreet Boys, Quit Playin' Games with my Heart.  Legendary!  I really felt like I was back in America for a second because it reminded me of all the fun times I had singing with my friends at Ego's on SoCo!

I love that Germans know all the words to BSB greatest hits.

I'll spare you the true hour of my return from the Reeperbahn, mainly so my parents don't have a heart-attack.  The next day when we woke up we had brunch then rode the ferry up & down the Elbe and did some window shopping in central Hamburg.  I happened upon a cute turquoise maxi dress at H&M for 3 euros, score!  We then rode the train to Oldenburg, which is Ricarda's hometown.  Once we arrived her lovely parents greeted me with open arms and fed me with so much good food.  I felt like an exotic houseguest and I tried my few key German phrases as to impress her parents which I think worked quite well until I ran out of phrases.  I know it's silly but I felt almost guilty for not knowing German and being able to fully communicate with them even though they understood my English.

you know, riding horses in Germany.  just your standard Sunday afternoon.

really though, couldn't this be Texas?

Day 3 we had breakfast on the terrace in her lovely backyard - a large corner lot with lots of green, blooming flowers, chairs for lounging.  The day was spent in the neighboring town of Rastede where Ricarda's horse, Stella, lives in the summer.  We took her out and I hopped on a horse for the first time in what must've been 8 or 10 years.  All the Germans were surprised a Texan didn't have more horseback riding experience, haha.  The land was beautiful and picturesque, a small pond, green grass, giant trees and horses walking around in the sun.  Heck it could've been Texas if you didn't know the context.  So there I was, riding a horse in North Germany, thinking that this trip couldn't get much better.  But it did!

Getting some sun on the North Sea inside a Strandkorb!

The next day we went with another girl from the stables and took the newborn philly and her mom, Calista, to be judged and branded by the local jury.  It was a unique event to experience, and I thought it almost comical that I'd be witnessing a horse branding in Germany and not in Texas.  Sometimes it's hard for me to imagine that normal life exists in every corner of this planet.  We then got our bikinis and drove (on the autobahn!) about 20 minutes to the North Sea.  There was a low tide so we didn't see any water but there was plenty of mud which is apparently a well-known, healthy mud because Germans come from all over to walk around in it.  There's even a word in German for wandering around in the mud at the North Sea: Wattwanderung.  And we did it!  I think I'm feeling better already.  They also had these little loveseat beach pods for sunning despite the wind.  In order to really experience the North Sea I was told I had to try matjes, basically a raw herring sandwich!  I took the tiniest bite (he still had a tail, I mean, gross) but I still tried it, and it wasn't bad.

Not sure how she does it, but Ricarda can wear mud and still look great!

Me eating a bite of a Matjes sammie, eeek!

That night after an amazing dinner of roasted ricotta & honey-stuffed figs wrapped in prosciutto and boiled asparagus with honey mustard dipping sauce, we took the bikes to the center of Oldenburg, which was delightful.  In Germany there's such an efficient transportation infrastructure that there are 2-way bike lanes everywhere and everyone is on 2 wheels, at least in the smaller, flat cities.  Ricarda's dapper boyfriend Alexej joined us and gave me a very thorough historical tour of Oldenburg, pointing out the oldest buildings, the sidewalks where only the nobility would've walked, and an old gunpowder tower at the former city walls.  Following the tour we parked our bikes at Franziskaner and ordered a beer at a biergarten (when in Germany, as they say!) and Alexej gave me a history lesson on German beer production.  I learned that Hefeweizen (hefe = yeast, weizen = wheat) is typical of Bavaria, southern Germany, where there was a decree in 1516 that wheat be added to sweeten beer.  In the north they decided to save wheat to make bread so their beer has hops added instead, which is the more bitter Pilsner.

just fyi delicious in German is lecker.

I'm quite convinced they couldn't be any more adorable.

Day 5 we woke up early to get on a bus and head to Groningen, Holland, a mere 1.5 hours away where Ricarda attends university.  Only a short distance away was another world, another language, another way of life.  We walked around this quaint Dutch city and met up with a friend of Ricarda's.  We perused the avenues, stopped in a bead shop for about an hour, and had lunch at a place called Bagels & Beans.  OMG, Bagels!  Where have you been all my life (aka the last 10 months)?  I also ordered some fresh mint tea which reminded me of Grandma's and happily soaked in the familiarities of home.  Funny how just a bagel and beverage can give you such joy when you're across the pond.  It was such a cute university town and even though it's close to Ricarda's hometown, it's different enough to feel a world away.  One thing I remembered about Holland were the stroopwafels, definitely among the best cookies I've ever had in my life, so I got a fresh one and a package to take back to Italy.

everything bagel + chives shmear + avocado + tomato = Netherlandish bliss.

still in awe of the massive bike culture.  this is just in front of ONE building.

There were canals along the city, even more bikes than Oldenburg, open markets, tiny Dutch houses, lots of young people and tons of coffee shops where people actually sit and relax!  Before we departed on the bus in the late afternoon we stopped and had a chai latte.  It was a bit too sweet but I didn't care, I felt like I was back home indulging in normal sized coffee and not the minuscule ones you find in this boot-shaped country.  We arrived back in Oldenburg in time for dinner: pizza with salmon, arugula and caper-berries!

evening bike ride to Bornhorst Am See outside Oldenburg.

On the morning of my last day we took the bikes into the center at met Alexej at a coffee shop.  I enjoyed not one, but two lattes just to make sure I would remember the taste when I returned to Italy.  I got their help in composing a thank-you card to Ricarda's parents who both came home from work at  lunch time to bid me farewell.  Her mom told me I was welcome to come back any time, even the holidays.  Ricarda and Alexej drove me 2.5 hours to the airport (now that's friendship) and we said our goodbyes.  The only thing that went wrong was the efficient German airport security found my smuggled stash from the Netherlands.  Nothing illegal, just a jar of precious peanut butter I was convinced shouldn't be considered a liquid - it's crunchy, people!

typical German farmhouse with straw roof outside Oldenburg

Overall the trip was wunderbar - I got to live it up in Hamburg, ride horses in Rastede, walk around the mud in the North Sea, visit another country for a day, ride bikes around the city, and eat to my heart's content.  What more could you want from a vacation?  It felt like the trip ended too soon, as I was just starting to communicate with her mom in German (albeit via Google Translator) and get the hang of riding a bike with an umbrella in one hand.  I'm hoping there will be another opportunity to visit Deutschland in the future, I would love to go back!

Rediscovering Torino

There's something about having a bike that gives you a new perspective on a city.  Maybe it's the fact that your usual mode of navigation is altered - you can steer away from main roads the buses and cars frequent and zip through side streets with ease and agility.  You can get places much faster than if you were on foot and, always a plus, you don't have to share a space on an overcrowded public bus with 78 sweaty Italians.

unrelated to this post, but I like it: urban art showcase, torino

I've been love love loving my new routine of walking down the steps of my palazzo in the late morning, greeting the doorman with a friendly "buondì" ("buongiorno" in dialect), grabbing my bike from behind the giant stained glass doors of the courtyard, hopping on and passing through the daily open market just below my window.  What joy, what bliss!  Now that's not to say I don't sometimes fear for my life a little bit when happening upon one-way streets or being forced into an ominous roundabout or bouncing along cobblestone streets with mid-morning traffic.  I get scared sometimes, but mostly I'm figuring out the best routes and discovering new ways to navigate the city.

In fact last week I discovered what I have been telling everyone is the coolest semi-hidden place in Turin.  Or at least it's my newest obsession and the novelty hasn't worn off yet.  I was perusing some travel blogs about Turin looking for exciting places to visit with my bike when I happened upon an article by an American living in Turin written about 5 years ago.  The article was describing locales that reminded her of the good ol' USofA.  Pub grub at the Huntsman: been there.  Shopping at Lingotto: done that.  Luxembourg historic bookstore with a large English section: interesting.  This led me to her page about places to enjoy a good book.  Probably the park, right?  As I said before there's no coffee shop culture here and you'd never see anyone reading a book while sipping an espresso.

Circolo dei Lettori: chi leggi vola (he who reads, flies)

The article suggested Circolo dei Lettori, or Circle of Readers, a cultural association dedicated to anyone and everyone that loves to read and needs a comfortable setting to enjoy a good book.  The space is located on the first floor of a beautiful 17th century palazzo - to get inside you must walk through the luxurious courtyard and buzz 1115# to be let up the marble staircase.  Once inside there is a welcome desk (with people who are actually helpful!) and a room full of modern clear plastic tables and chairs for dining.  Beyond this there is a bar/restaurant and walking back you are greeted by all the splendor of Circolo dei Lettori.  There are themed rooms - one outfitted with a billiard table and red leather chairs; another with antique green plush couches; even one with wicker hammocks.  The atmosphere is warm and magical.  All walls are covered in fabric and portraiture, the ceilings display frescoes and elegant chandeliers.

courtyard at the palazzo of Circolo dei Lettori

The beauty of this place, other than its aesthetic appeal, is that membership in the Circle of Readers is entirely free and open to the public.  Oh and there's an internet connection (unfortunately rare in Italy).  Meaning I can come here to study, bring my laptop and work, order a cappuccino and pen a few pages in my journal, meet a friend for lunch, or find a comfy corner and curl up with my current read.  Can you believe it?  For an American girl who's been missing terribly the coffee shop culture, this is nothing short of a godsend.  And could you imagine a more beautiful location than a 17th century Italian palace to go relax and read?  They also host exhibitions, book-themed dinners and authors talks.  And they have book clubs in original language - meaning that starting in September they'll have an English language reading circle!  Am I so incredibly elated by this discovery, you guys have no idea!

when you find a place to study more badass than this, please let me know

I went here the other morning to work on some translations I'm doing for my professor's cultural association and I found myself right at home.  There was no one else around, so I settled into the billiard room, plugged in my laptop, ordered a cappuccino and got to work.  I don't know why I'm so productive when I leave the house and put myself in another environment, it somehow forces me to do what needs to be done.  I just can't explain the beauty of sitting in this place in all its elegant solitude and working on a project.  Ah-mazing.

I'm looking forward to biking around this summer and discovering new places in and around Torino, as I'm convinced there is so much I still don't know about this city.  I've been here almost a year and just last week I happened upon a place that is now among my favorites.  What a beautiful life this is.

Internship Has Sailed

On Monday (while most of you were enjoying a work-free national holiday, *sigh*) I finished my internship, bid farewell to the Egyptian artist as she boarded a plane back to Amsterdam, and said my final goodbyes to my steel gray semi-automatic Lancia Ypsilon.  I thought it would be harder than it was, but I was so ready to have my life back and not be bound to the responsibilities of a car, and a needy artist for that matter.  Did I just say that?  Oops.  In all seriousness the internship did give me the opportunity to meet and talk with several important curators, art directors and other members of Turin's contemporary art scene.  I went to more art openings, exhibitions and artist talks than I can count and became more acquainted with the city's vibrant creative culture.

urban art showcase, torino

I also learned how to go into a Tabaccheria and purchase Marlboro Lights as a frequent favor for the artist with whom I worked.  I learned how to pick up her friends from the airport and how to attempt to be an art snob with her french artist boyfriend by carrying on a pejorative conversation about a famous collection.  Oui oui.  But all that stupid stuff just comes with the territory of being an intern, I suppose.  During the last week there was an artist workshop at the foundation and I sat in on a few sessions.  I met and talked with visiting artists from around Europe and those conversations were definitely worth the time I spent driving her around and buying her cigarettes.

My supervisor gave me rave reviews when it came time for evaluations.  In fact she invited me over to her house to personally tell me how much she appreciated my work during the summer.  Would've been cool if she'd told me that even once over the last 7 weeks, but whatever.  She told me this internship was a great opportunity for me to become familiar with the Torino scene.  She even asked me to work with her in the fall during Paratissima, a well-known annual european art fair in Turin, to help organize and plan a few exhibitions.  There may even be a chance to help the foundation plan another artist workshop - all of which sounds more interesting than taking an artist grocery shopping at the local supermarket, so here's hoping.

journaling at the Castello di Rivoli contemporary art museum

So now in my immense free time I've decided to get serious about losing some kilos with a friend of mine.  We've been meeting 3 times a week to do either some power yoga, P90 (I'm not cool enough for P90X yet), or some brisk walking action at a lovely park along the river.  I've been biking to her place to meet her (20 minutes one way) so I'll get in some bonus exercising.  I kind of forgot how good it feels to be active and not base your exercise on how far you'll need to walk to the next open-air market or fresh pasta shop.  Energy, I've missed you.  Extreme Sweatiness, didn't miss you so much but I inherited you from my father and with this heat it's inevitable we'd meet again.

I've also planned a little trip up to Deutschland for this weekend to visit the lovely Ricarda, my roommate from Fall semester.  I found a decently priced ticket so I'll be leaving Friday and coming back on Wednesday - that's 5 days of northern German shenanigans. Ich bin excited, y'all!  I'm meeting her in Hamburg, staying with some friends, then heading off to Bremen/Oldenburg to reunite with her adorable family, ride horses and possibly sail around the sea north of Germany.  I really can't complain.

Mobility in Italy

What are the things in life I'm most afraid of?  Well, that would be The Scream roller-coaster at Six Flags, menacing summertime cockroach infestations, getting a bad haircut, any and all horror films, dying alone as an old chain-smoking spinster with 17 overweight cats, etc.  And until a few weeks ago that list also included driving in Italy.  There aren't many things in life that I've been so sure I would never do, but getting behind the wheel in any Mediterranean country, especially Italy, was something I swore up and down I'd never have the chutzpah to attempt.  Just goes to show you should never say never.

anyone who knows what this means, feel free to enlighten me.

I remained in Italy this summer to complete an internship required for my degree.  A professor of mine who is also an artist got me a position at an art foundation located several kilometers outside Torino.  I'd be working with the first artist-in-residence for a new international educational residency program linking artists in Italy, Egypt, Brazil and India.  Of course I agreed immediately because the project interested me, but there was one catch.  The artist doesn't drive (how bohemian), so I'd have to not only help her with projects, but use a car for the 7 weeks of her residency.  It was almost comical at first, like karma or something.  I'd always told my friends, professors and colleagues here that I would never drive in Italy because it's just too crazy - the streets are too small, the cars come too close, red lights are simply suggestions, street signs and indications are incomprehensible (and not just because they're in another language).

My little Ypsilon!

But one month ago I arrived by train in middle-of-nowhere Piedmont to pick up the rental car, a silver-grey Lancia Ypsilon, and meet the artist.  Luckily Dina is a pleasure to work with and the foundation honored my request of finding an automatic transmission (hooray!)  Those first 2 days were terrible, I was frightened beyond belief - I thought I was going to hit everything that came within one meter of my vehicle.  I sat perched on the end of my seat, expecting the worst and readying myself to play defense.  I managed fairly well, perhaps because of my impeccable reflexes or my ability to rationalize unthinkable maneuvers based on the fact that someone in front of me is doing it.  I arrived home unscathed despite the rain and rush hour, only having been honked at 3 times - but at this point I think honking is Italian for "whaddayathinkyadoin?"

My epithet: B.L.Shultz, conquerer of the dreaded Italian roundabout.

By day 3 in the car my heartbeat had regulated, I was leaning back against the seat, my window was rolled down enough to allow for ample gesture-throwing and I wasn't too scared to turn on the way-too-'90s Italian radio stations.  I was driving in Italy and I finally got the hang of the anarchical vehicular madness!  That first week as I drove down the peaceful field-lined country roads leading to the foundation, I smiled to myself thinking "I can't believe I'm driving in Italy.  I never ever thought I'd be capable of this.  Now I'm convinced I can do just about anything."

Beautiful art foundation where I work in the Piedmont countryside

© Fondazione Spinola Banna per l'Arte

Of course having a car meant I had the freedom of actually going places on my own time for the first time since I've been here.  I didn't have to check bus schedules or consider walking times.  I was free as a bird!  Except for ridiculous parking restrictions and even-more-ridiculous Italian version of "parking" as we know it: double-parking as a lifestyle, leaving your car on the stripes in the middle of the road with your hazards on, using the sidewalk as a parking spot, disregarding pedestrian crossings and the like.  So stressful.  Just as soon as I got excited about the freedom of a car I was given a reminder of all the annoying responsibilities that come along with it - paying to park, finding spots, traffic, check-ups, and buying gas!  One liter (.26 gallons) of fuel is 1.42 euros ($2.02) and this little baby takes only diesel!  Can you believe it?!

My bike on Via Garibaldi, Turin's shopping district.

Realizing I would be giving up the car in a week but unwilling to give up my newfound mobility, I decided to find a bicycle.  This is also linked to my missing home recently, as my bike was one way I really enjoyed the summer, the city and exercising.  I went to the Saturday flea market and bought an old bike for 40 euros: maroon, 5 speed, decent brakes, girl's frame, and old school lights that are powered by my pedaling.  I outfitted it with a new bell (necessary for the busy streets of Turin) and a basket for toting my purse along.  Now I just couldn't be happier!

My bike in Piazza Castello in front of Palazzo Reale.

I've gone out a few times this week to cruise around downtown and stop for a coffee and write a bit in my journal.  Thankfully Torino is a fairly bike-friendly city and the only thing I'm truly afraid of (at least these days) is getting whiplash from riding along broken old cobblestone streets!

You Know You're Homesick When...

• You hastily combine off-brand corn chips, gruyere cheese and sickly sweet "mexican salsa" from the local supermarket in an attempt to make a sad excuse for nachos.

• You feel your eyes misting up while watching a late showing of the original language film, The Tree of Life, because you've just discovered it was filmed in Texas.

• You spend a weekend on the beach in Liguria with a big group of people but all you can think about is how much you'd like to be with all your best friends floating down the Guadalupe River.

Last Summer, aka My Glory Days

aaaaand I really miss this too.

Guys, I've been kinda down for a few days.  I know you're probably thinking I should shut my trap and go find solace in a cup of strawberry/chocolate gelato, but sometimes you just can't shake these feelings.  I can't quite decide if this has been caused by the recent departure of my fam a few weeks ago, perhaps coupled with realizing I won't be home for 6 more months, oh and add in the fact that all the good friends I've made here have gone back home to their respective countries.  I'm kind of lonely, I guess.

This is exactly how I remember summertime.

Part of me is excited by the fact that I'm so alone - that means time for me to read, catch up on journaling, do some research, complete some projects.  But that also means I'm the self-appointed Mayor of Sadville, population:1.  Maybe I've just been thinking about all my previous summers, how fun and carefree everything was.  Riding my bike around the city, taking walks with my mom, going to all the good Happy Hour spots, getting excited about book club meetings with the girls, watching movies in the park, painting my nails with Sara, attending music festivals, visiting Nicole in Uvalde and eating the best CFS ever, playing on a softball team, relaxing in the hot tub at dad's place, grabbing sno-cones, working on my tan at Barton Springs.  It's crazy how things like that truly become a part of who you are.  But things have to change, right?  That's part of life.

Summer Salsa Dancing

Summer Kickball Season Silliness

Of course it doesn't help that a few days ago I realized I was on my last tube of stashed Burt's Bees lip balm and soon I'll have to begrudgingly switch to generic chap-stick.  Ugh.  Then I got a sweet message from the Shrodes that included a picture of them eating guacamole and drinking margaritas -  but ohh, the pain, the agony!  To top it off I agreed to go on this trip with my roommate and 15 of his closest friends to the seaside.  While I was there I watched them interact, tried to follow the conversation, but couldn't find the energy or desire to truly engage anyone.  I don't know why, really, but as I sat with them on the beach and took in the beautiful landscape, all I could think was these aren't my friends.  I felt like I was in some bizarre foreign film where everyone spoke a different language and talked about things I'd never seen and people I didn't know.

Summer at the Frio River

This post is turning into a pathetic diatribe, I must say.  I'm thinking this is just a phase and I need to get over it and try to make new friends, but golly, that takes so much effort!  And in another language it becomes more fatiguing.  I just miss how easy things were when I could simply pick up the phone and call my friends, go for a drink and effortlessly speak my own language. Though, when I think back to the last time I was in Italy during the summer, studying abroad in Rome in 2006, I have to say it was one of the best times of my life.  It was that summer when I solidified my adoration for this country, this culture, this language.  It was that summer I realized I had to come back and live here, someway, somehow.  And 5 years later I'm actually doing that!  Albeit without the company of my best buddies, without all the comforts of home, but I'm here living my dream.  And that's nothing to complain about :)

Summer Abroad, 2006 (lovingly dubbed by my fam: The Gelato Tour)

So there may be hope yet to cure my homesickness.  I've just got to take it one day at a time and be thankful that I'm able to be here, thankful there are people back home who love and support me - even if I can't spend blissful, carefree summer days with them.  Perhaps my day's goal will be to complete a few things and then try a new flavor of frozen Italian goodness (preferably that doesn't remind me of home!)

xoxoxo!

Addendum:
So God must be reading my blog because when I went to the grocery store this evening something happened that was nothing short of a miracle.  I found a ripe avocado in the "exotic foods" section!!!  Now this is highly exciting, since you all know I've had NO luck finding avocados and thus have had serious guacamole withdrawals.  Well, I happily got in line to pay for the overpriced South African import after tracking down the makings for a nice bowl-o-guac.  My nearly-religious experience was further enriched by the lady behind me.  She wanted to know how you eat an avocado. (!!!)  I explained the guacamole-making process (in Italian, what's up.) and described its deliciousness to the woman, she was intrigued by this foreign dish and thanked me for the information.  I was able to not only find a food that reminds me of home and preach its glory to the masses (well, just an old lady who may not even remember, but still).  Feeling better already!

Texans in Italy: A Family Affair

I started a new journal last week, one I bought while in Sicily, and it's a good thing I did because what a week of adventures I had!  From Sunday to Sunday I was trekking around this beautiful country with fellow Shultzes and the notorious Shrodes (who may as well be family).  Perhaps you're thinking "a solid week with the fam?  gag!" or "5th wheeling it with the baby-boomers?  no thanks!" But actually my expectations were exceeded and I can honestly say I had a fantastic time.  I was elated to see familiar faces and even happier to personally to show them where I'd been living for the past 8 months.  Plus there's just something heartwarming about being around people from the Lone Star State, namely allowing myself to use y'all more often than usual.

Texas-sized portions

Now, it wouldn't be a true trip through Italy without a few key ingredients.  A large helping of culture, art and history, an gluttonous side of dolce vita with (let's be real here) a dash of inefficiency/inconvenience.  The plan to meet everyone in Milan was nearly foiled by an early morning train station strike in Torino.  *sigh*.  With some quick thinking I managed to make my way by 2 buses and gather the Texas crew to board the high speed train to Rome.  As some of you know personally, there's nothing quite like Rome.  In fact, my Italian host brother once told me Rome is like your first love, it'll always stay with you no matter where you go or who you become.  That's still true for me.  And every time I return I always discover something new.

The fam had their first taste of true Italian food that first night in Roma.  The bottles of local vino were flowing, bread was sopping up olive oil and balsamic vinegar, forks were clinking against plates full of fresh pasta, our laughter was echoing inside the walls of the small family-owned trattoria.  This was the Italy I wanted them to know and to love.  Simple dishes, great wine, impeccable company, and the beauty of enjoying the moment.

awesome view from the rooftop bar

The worry-free agenda continued on Day 2 with a private tour of the Eternal City with an Italian Texas Ex (Hook 'Em!) who truly enriched our experience.  (what really enriched my experience was the rented car and driver we had for the entire day… def beats hitchhiking and sweating on public buses.)  We were granted access to the Hypogeum (area underneath the floor of the Colosseum) to see where gladiators entered the arena and animals/scenery were hoisted up.  Pretty impressive.  From there we checked out Michelangelo's sculpture of Moses in the basilica of St. Peter in Chains; visited some nuns and Renaissance frescoes at the church of St. Cecilia; and peeked through a tiny keyhole atop the Aventine Hill at the Knights of Malta to see a unique view of St. Peter's basilica.

standard father/daughter colosseum pose

And what's a tour of Rome without wandering the dank, dreary corridors of the Catacombs?  A single flashlight guided our way through rows of looted tombs and highlighted a few remaining oil lamps, headstones and bodiless skulls.  Ew.  A necessary trip to Piazza Navona and an unexpected rain storm resulted in our pursuit of the true pride of this country: gelato.  My flavors of choice were an intriguing raspberry-sage and a summery passion fruit.  Upon our return to the hotel (by air-conditioned vehicle, aahh-mazing) I set out with the Shrode family, aka the Merry Midlanders, to engage in some serious coffee culture at St. Eustachio.  This was followed by a lengthy stroll through a local wine merchant's bottega and a quick peek into the Pantheon where I did my best to recite old art history class material.

neck-numbing beauty

Day 3 began entirely too early due to special entry tickets for the Vatican Museums.  Worth it, trust me.  This guide ushered us through the tapestry-covered halls, over the marbled floors and provided us with an exceptional framework for viewing the most renowned ceiling in the world.  We sat at the back of the Sistine Chapel for an hour and a half (what seemed like 20 minutes) craning our necks as she painted us a detailed picture of what Michelangelo's true experience had been in that very room.  Incredible.  I'd been before, though this time I had more of a context and thus walked away even more full of awe.

The Merry Midlanders at the Vatican

St. Peter's Basilica, opulent as always, beckoned us with its fabulously baroque décor and incomparable size.  They'd just moved John Paul II's body into the basilica from the Vatican catacombs where I'd seen him back in 2006 due to his recent beatification.  Props, JP2.  In case anyone's wondering, I didn't spy the current Pope this time around for another drive-by blessing - but that's cool, I'll catch him on the flip side.

At this point in the trip our group split into those who were ambitious enough to do 4 Italian cities in 7 days (Shrodes) and those who are less successful at doing a fast-forward version of Rick Steves' Italy (Shultzes).  Our last night in Rome was possibly the most memorable because a relaxing evening of hotel bar patronizing resulted in a charming conversation with Michele, our barman.  As we chatted, he sculpted us a small souvenir from 3 champage tops/cages which he wired together to make an adorable tiny chair and table/ottoman.  One of those things you'll never forget.  Other than that it was quite simply a pleasure to relax and talk about how much I'm enjoying my time here and how thankful/blessed I feel every day to be having this experience.

courtyard cuteness

Days 4 and 5 were spent exploring the medieval town of Spoleto in the land-locked Umbria region.  Sprawling vistas of hillside vineyards greeted us warmly.  Here we truly relaxed and savored the Italian experience.  The only effort exerted during our 2 days there was traversing steep inclines of tiny streets to find a restaurant and of course the classic quandary: which of these locally-crafted cashmere tops suits me best?  I was happy to share this countryside version of Italy, as it's much different from bustling Rome yet is still a vital component of the true Italian experience.  We lounged on the picturesque terrace at sundown, wine in hand, and tried to drink in the indescribably quaint atmosphere.

spoleto - abruzzo

Day 6 was spent traveling back up to Milan, reconnecting with the Shrodes, and finally adding in that undeniably Italian dash of inconvenience.  We arrived at our "pre-booked" hotel to find the reservation didn't exist and the available rooms the guy gave us were akin to your standard Motel 6.  Except I think Motel 6s don't have shared bathrooms in the hall or bidets next to the bed.  Yeah.  A few international phone calls later we'd found a place across town, but not before the proprietor began yelling at us in Italian for leaving his establishment.  (This point in the trip is where I cemented my growing mastery of the Italian language, everyone.)  I wasn't about to let him insult us, so I raised my voice to his level, used the appropriate inflections to denote displeasure and firmly informed him the room was total shit.  In hindsight I could've used more gestures, but I think I got my point across.  Texas: 1, Italy: 0!

A much nicer hotel awaited us across town and over dinner I informed everyone you couldn't really see  Italy without someone cursing at you, trying to sell you an umbrella while you're holding one, or somehow being conned out of money due to mismanagement of public administration.  Alas.

inside Santa Maria delle Grazie, Milan

But the last day, Day 7, was great because we had reservations with Mr. Leo Da Vinci.  Well, his rendition of the Last Supper, actually.  What a privilege it was to be among the few granted entry each day to see one of the greatest masterpieces of all time.  There simply is no describing the sensation one gets from standing in the very room where over 500 years ago Da Vinci painstakingly depicted the highly gestural scene of Jesus and the 12 apostles seated at a table.  Not much could top that experience, but an obligatory trip to the Duomo, the Galleria and Castello Sforzesco was in order.

cool pic from the rooftop bar in Rome

That evening we had cocktails on the patio of the hotel and recounted the trip's best moments.  Among them were stumbling upon a cute leather boutique, a delicious plate of Bucatini all'Amatriciana, reliving the creation of the Sistine Chapel, a memorable night in Venice, lounging on the patio and talking over wine.  I felt like all the memories aptly embodied the true Italian experience: the food, the culture, the wine, but above all the way of life.  The memories wouldn't have been as meaningful if they hadn't been shared with family.  In that same vein, my experiences thus far described on this blog carry great significance for me because I know I am sharing them with my friends and family that read.  Italy isn't perfect by any means, but being able to spend a week with people who love me in a beautiful country is just about as close as you can get.

My Tax Return: Part III of III

summer vacation bliss

I feel like this title doesn't exactly convey my enthusiasm for the true life tale you're about to read.  Talking about taxes makes everything seem sort of bland (sorry Roy!), but this trip was just the opposite.  I must write immediately about the memorable week-long adventure I just had on the picturesque island of Sicily.  For those of you who feared I was actually venturing into North Africa, worry not!  Although I remained within the country, I can tell you it seemed as though we entered another world.

piazza pretoria, palermo

One thing that continues to render me awestruck about Italy is the diversity within each region: the dialects, the patrimony, the people, the food.  There is always something to discover.  Sicily is unique in that it's the biggest island (the one the boot of Italy seems to be kicking) and is among the most well-known regions, albeit for mainly negative reasons.  Obviously Sicily is most closely associated with the mafia, and although we are only familiar with Lucky Luciano, the Sopranos and the Godfather, the long-reaching crime organization continues to influence politics and threaten the economy.  In college I (brilliantly) played a small part in an Italian drama production about the first man killed by the mafia in Sicily.  When I took a Sicilian Literature course I never imagined I'd be able to visit the land the famous Italian writers simultaneously lauded for its beauty and cursed for its hopelessness.

san giuseppe teatrino, palermo

So we found cheap Ryanair flights from Turin to Trapani, Sicily and I arranged CouchSurfing hosts in all our desired cities.  Due to the war in Libya we were supposed to be diverted to Palermo but a day before we flew out they decided to reopen Trapani.  This meant we'd be arriving 1.5 hours from our first host's city at midnight.  We arrived a little past midnight on Saturday at Trapani airport and alas, there were no buses to Palermo.  What's a girl to do?  You guessed it.  Hitchhiking.  What were my other options?!  I asked a couple from our flight if they were going to Palermo, they said yes and I boldly asked if we could get a ride with them.  They agreed, telling us they had a daughter our age and wouldn't want to leave her somewhere without a ride.  They were a couple from Turin going to visit friends for a week and as it turns out they were on our flight back home the next Saturday.  We talked the whole way to Palermo, in Italian, and they were telling us all about the beauty of Sicily - what to see in each city on our list.  When we arrived 1.5 hours later they insisted on taking us for a cornetto (nutella-filled croissant) and beer at 1:30AM.  It was a great experience, and such a perfect example of Italian hospitality.

late night arancina run!

They dropped us off in central Palermo where we met our host, Carlo.  An architect/music aficionado with an amazing apartment.  The shower had rocks on the bottom, kind of hurts your feet, but super fancy.  He was with several people, a few CouchSurfers from America, and we all went dancing until 3:30AM, we were so tired!  Sunday we wandered around Palermo looking at monuments and churches, then Carlo called to say he'd make us lunch.  Can't say no to that.  

i could get used to this

We had a delicious meal on his private terrace and talked with him and his friend Filippo all about Sicilian culture.  Later in the evening we went for an aperitivo with Carlo and his friends, then searched for a late-night arancina (tasty deep-fried rice/saffron ball with cheese and meat inside, the size of a softball, super heavy!) and he helped us plan the rest of our trip.  So far we'd just had one problem with a host saying he changed his availability, so I was quickly trying to find a remedy by changing our itinerary.  It all worked out.

on the beach in cefalù - ultimate relaxation

Monday we got on a train to Cefalù, a small touristy town with a beautiful beach and I was happy to relax and feel the sand between my toes.  After spending a few hours there we took the train to the northeastern city of Messina.  Surprisingly it started raining there and luckily we just had to switch trains again instead of getting wet (we hadn't brought umbrellas!) and we were off to Taormina!  There we were picked up at the station by Andrea, a 1/2 Spanish 1/2 Italian naval officer who lived in a nearby town.  He made us dinner, offered us some Malvasia (sicilian white wine), and took us up to Taormina to see the city by night.  Taormina is located up on a hill, so if you don't have a vehicle you have to take a cable car.

view from atop taormina; isola bella

That night we hung out for hours with Andrea and had great conversation, philosophized and theorized on the meaning of being happy and enjoying life to the fullest.  That is what makes CouchSurfing so priceless, experiences and memories like those!  He even showed us the "galateo" (etiquette) he has to use on the ship while eating in front of the Commander.  So funny!  Tuesday morning he left early but gave us the keys to lock up when we wanted to leave.  We had an amazing breakfast of coffee granita (sort of slushy with whipped cream) and brioches by the sea.  Ahh, this is what I imagined Sicily would be like.

granita al caffè and brioches in sant'alessio near taormina

We tried to take a bus into Taormina, but they weren't coming for another 2 hours.  So what did I do?  What anyone would've done, I'm sure.  Hitchhiked again!  (You don't have to start praying for me, guys.  I knew Georgina could've taken any of them.  Plus I'm convinced it's safer in Europe.)  We got a ride into the city with an insurance salesman named Letterio, he not only took us up the hill to see Taormina by day, but he told us that he had to do some errands but would pick us up in an hour to take us to the station.  I wasn't exactly convinced he would return, but sure enough an hour later there he was!  He even took us to his client's bakery and ordered us some arancini, then helped us buy tickets to Catania.  Only in Italy do you find this kind of hospitality.  Only in Italy.

piazza del duomo, catania

We arrived in Catania in the afternoon and our host Salvatore, a banker, picked us up from the station.  He had a fancy shirt with his initials on it.  We dropped our things at his place (he had a restored fresco ceiling!) and then explored Catania on our own.  We perused the piazzas, the duomo, the opera house, and of course made a stop at Salvo's favorite cannoli shop.  Oh damn, so good.

eating my cannolo in the park

That night Salvo invited his friend Giuseppe over and they cooked dinner for us.  Pasta, fried eggplant, roasted rosemary potatoes and Salvo's family's Nero d'Avola (Sicilian red wine).  Up until this point I was so impressed with the hospitality of all our hosts, making sure we were picked up from the station, properly fed and given a place to sleep with anything we may need.  We talked about the fact that in Sicily people think of themselves first as Sicilians, then as Italians.  In America I feel like it's the opposite, we're first Americans, then we're Texans, Californians, etc.  We discussed that this must be due to the fact that we are such a young country and we're so united, whereas Italy is still very divided (politically, linguistically, geographically).  Specifically Sicilians seem to feel closer to North Africans than Northern Italians (say from Torino) and I find that fascinating.  After dinner, we started playing games and we taught them to play Spoons, or "cucchiai" in Italian.  They thought it was hilarious and then we taught them Go Fish, or "va' a pescare" in Italian.  They taught us a few games as well and we were all having a great time - hard to believe we'd just met a few hours before!

view of the sea from the island of ortigia

Wednesday afternoon Salvo gave us a ride to Siracusa as he was going there for work.  We walked around the Island of Ortigia and marveled at the beauty of the ancient city.  That evening we got a bus to our host Lucio's house in Lentini, Sicily.  He's a retired professor whose wife died 5 years ago so he hosts many people at once to keep his house full :)  I got the impression he really just wanted people around to listen to his stories, but hey we got dinner and a nice bed for 2 nights!  While we were there he was also hosting Biza, a Korean magazine writer and David, a French guy who's been hitchhiking through Europe for 2 years!  Wednesday night was the town's saint day festival, so we took part in the festivities.

festa di sant'alfio, lentini

Thursday we headed back to Siracusa to see the city and go to Fontane Bianche, a lovely beach nearby.  We got in another good day of sunning/relaxing and I was superbly pleased.  We got back to Lucio's house in the evening and the only problem we'd had all week was surfacing - no place to sleep Friday night.  A guy in Agrigento that had accepted my request weeks ago hadn't responded to my confirmation that week.  As a result I got on CS and tried to find someone last minute.  Lucio said I wouldn't be able to do it, but within 10 minutes I'd found a place in Sciacca, Sicily.

beach in fontane bianche

Most of Friday was spent on the bus to Agrigento.  Etna, the active volcano in Sicily, had erupted the day before and there were huge traffic diversions.  In the evening we arrived in Sciacca and our host Francesco, an unemployed tourism developer, picked us up from the station.  He immediately took us to the beach so we could see the sunset and it was absolutely breathtaking.  It was so hard to believe panoramas like that were real.

gorgeous sunset in sciacca

We arrived at his mom's place that evening (haha, ohhh Italians!) and it was a really nice 3-story beach house and he made us dinner: swordfish!  We watched some movies dubbed in Italian and had some of his mom's cookies.  Saturday his mom made us breakfast (hehehe) and we took the bus to Trapani and spent the entire day on the beach, as it should be.  I got my Sicilian tan going and relaxed under a straw umbrella with my journal, trying to capture the week in words.  Georgina and I sat there and recounted the best of the week, and the results were interesting.

Best Meal: lunch on Carlo's terrace in Palermo (closely followed by the late-night arancina)

Best Sleeping Arrangement: the king size guest bed at Lucio's house in Lentini

Best Conversation: philosophizing with Andrea in Taormina

Most Fun: playing games with Salvo and Giuseppe in Catania

Most Relaxing Moment: beach in Cefalù or possibly beach in Fontane Bianche

I thought that was cool because all our experiences over the week were valued in different ways.  We had great food, splendid company, relaxing moments on the beach, and the pleasure of living la dolce vita for an entire week in Sicily.  Oh, and I should mention that this entire trip was realized in under 200 euro (about $283).  Seven days and seven nights of vacation including round trip tickets, transportation (buses, trains) around the entire island, food, etc.  Kind of impressive, right?  We didn't pay for a single place to stay nor a single dinner.  Can't beat that, and at the same time that's what made our trip so unforgettable.  Viva la Sicilia!

last day on the beach, trapani