15: so I'm in class...

I'm not sure where it comes from or how I even developed this trait, but I am so glad I am the way I am. Ha!

I'm sure this trait of mine comes from a mix of dad's reason and reliability and mom's will-power and timeliness. I'm sitting in class right now and we had one of our first projects due today; just a powerpoint presentation of a handbag design inspired by a country. Our presentation had to include our initial sketches and notes, an inspiration board, technical drawings of the handbag, a mock-up advertisement, information about a target market, and other material variations of the bag. I was assigned Scandinavia. Here's my inspiration board:



Anyway we were given more than a week to complete the project and because it was due today, I red-flagged that date. Why wouldn't you finish an assignment when it's due? The option to half-complete an assignment is, well, not an option for me. That goes against my rationale. Granted there have been times when a project hasn't been completed to the best of my ability or how I had envisioned it, but I got it done.

Nobody in my class was finished, except me. And consequently because people weren't finished, we spent our lecture time finishing the projects and now continuing onto our hat assignment, which means that during our lab hour time when we are supposed to work on the new projects and assignments, people continued to work on their handbag projects. Being done with it, I've been on my computer for 2.5 hours, enjoying the school's speedy wifi and wasting a lot of time....I could be doing laundry, or packing for Rome.

So, thank you, Mom and Dad, for instilling me with a combination-feeling of dread, regret, terror, and satisfaction which has driven me to always finish projects on-time.

I swear, some people....

Side note: Rome this weekend! So. Freaking. Pumped.

14: Venezia

I've been lead to believe that Venice is an extraordinary city, that the water is a mist light blue-green that laps against the buildings that disappear right into the lagoon; that the city is a sprawling example of Italian opulence, and each twisty and narrow street holds an incredible find.

Venice during Carnivale is not like that though.

I'm sure that if I were to return to Venice (and actually stay in the city, not outside of it) Saint Marks Square would be breathtaking, similarly I'm positive that the Rialto would be exciting and beautiful. When there are thousands of people crowded onto the islands that make up Venice, it's not so fun. At one point we were gridlocked in a crowd for an hour. Imagine traffic but without the cars and instead of honking there were people screaming. Also, I discovered I have a weird shaped face that's not suited for masks...

There were some high point, though, that made me possibly return (I'd sooner go back to Milan or Siena, though). We saw a glass blowing factory, even though our itinerary said we'd be visiting the Island of Morano where the glass blowing production really takes place. I had the best lasagna since being here at a restaurant one night.

So in conclusion: for those who want to see Venice, don't go during Carnivale. If you go during the weekend of The Oscars, stay home for The Oscars...

Photographs in the next post!

13: Excursion: Milan

Oh hey, Milan, did you know that you're the most amazing place in the world?

Superlatives aside, Milan was like no other city I've ever been to. Where most of the historically rich cities and towns I've been to have a very upfront attitude and appearance about their history as if to say, "here is who we are and what we did, and it's right in front of you," Milan is a more cosmopolitan metropolis that seems aware of its past but instead of making history it's catch-phrase Milan says, "we have old buildings here, you can go look at them if you'd like." First, Milan has a subway system! If there's one thing that I love about any given city it's the public subway transportation system. Florence has none; frowns all around. But Milan has an easy to navigate metro that we (Laura, Bess, Lydia, and I) utilized; I think my 2-day metro pass was starting to wear by the last day. Milan's history is one of industry and production, so it's no surprise that most of the city we went to had a sense of industrialization. Unlike Florence or Siena that "feel" Italian (in that Francis Mayes way), Milan feels connected to the rest of the world, that is, the city feels like it's turned outwards toward.

Milan Duomo is my favorite so far (see the picture above!). We exited the metro stop called "Duomo" only to find that once you surface the Duomo smacks you in the face with its splendor and glory. I gasped, and grabbed Bess' arm. It was immense and colossal, with gothic motifs and the sprawling white marble made this Duomo feel unworldly and unreal. The interior does not exactly match the exterior's amazement, but it was marvelous nonetheless.

To exit the Duomo's piazza, you must go through the grand Galleria Vittorio Emanuele II. On our first day we walked through in awe of it all. The second day they were setting up for Fashion Week. Marvelous. Incredible. Other sites we saw:

Teatro alla Scala - This opera theater is really the first opera house that has given me shivers. The accompanying museum houses the old costumes and playbills from past shows as well as other opera-related art that, honestly, was lost on me.
Castello Sforzesco - A monumental castle with all the bells and whistles of other castles.
Pinacoteca di Brera - This art gallery has a lot of Jesus art. In fact, they have a whole room full of various paintings of the Virgin and Baby J. My highlight was the two Umberto Boccioni paintings on display. This Futurism artists was insane, but a color genius.
Museo Poldi Pezzoli - This was my museum highlight of the trip. There was an ongoing Botticelli exhibit of a few pieces, including his The Lamentation, which literally made me tear-up. And the rest of the museum boasts a super eclectic collection of paintings, jewelry, religious items, clocks, etc.

Flash-forward to the best bits of my Milan experience. We ate dinner at Acquasala, a southern Italian cuisine ristorante. I ate horse. Yes, I ate horse. It was delicious. Throughout the meal we kept a mental list of the different animals we were eating, morbid yes, but really funny. Cow, octopus, squid, shrimp, pork, codfish, and horse. Hah! We then went to a bar called Il Elefante, which Lydia's guidebook said had a mix of chairs and fruity drinks, and it was gay-friendly. Turns out "gay-friendly" means the clientele is predominantly, if not exclusively, gay. But that's not all the gay fun we had because the club, Plastic, we were headed to is also gay-ish. The crowd outside was large and spilling carelessly into the street. Smokers drunkenly sashayed out of the club to a specific area to congregate. Their rectangular club-stamps unfaded and their unlimited pass to fun that our guidebook said was not to miss.
Pushing through the crowd we made it to the front, within earshot of the bouncer who lacked muscles, but compensated with sass. When he looked my direction I locked eye contact with him, signaled "four" with my fingers, pointing to Laura, Lydia, and a squished Bess. He nodded and gave me a quick smile. I was unsure if this was a polite, please wait smile, or an invitation to showcase my amazing flirting skills (note: I have none). When he looked my direction again, I winked at him, smiling coyly and what do you know? He pointed to us and we soon found ourselves getting through the crowd fast-tracked. When I passed him I said a polite, grazie, to which he replied, prego, China paired with the quintessential and in this case, necessary double-cheek-kiss. As if that weren't outrageous and memorable enough, there were a host of pseudo-drag dancers with amazing dance moves.

So yeah, Milan, you were great. Thanks

12: Excursions: Siena

For starters, let me say that my blues is kind of passing thing, coming and going in waves. Perspective is key in combatting those pesky homesick feelings.

Another remedy is travel. Enter Siena.

During orientation our advisors stressed how great a location Florence is in Italy. The central Tuscan-capital is literally a transit epicenter (by train, at least. To fly out of Florence, Pisa is the larger airport). So Laura, Carolyn, and I swing by the Santa Maria Novella train station Friday morning and catch the train to Siena. An hour and forty minutes later we find ourselves in this picture-perfect "Italian" town. And suddenly I felt better.

Siena is known for this huge horse race where jockeys from all the Sienese districts race it out for bragging rights and city-funded parties for their district. This race takes place twice a year, August and July. So, no, I didn't get to see that. But you can tell from the general set-up of the Piazza di Campo that something monumental has to happen there. Imagine a traditional piazza mashed up with an amphitheater and you'll have an idea of the shape. After lunch in the Piazza, we headed to the Duomo, which doesn't boast the most impressive exterior (still extravagant and highly detailed, though), but could arguably have the most beautiful interior I've seen.




Siena is also famous for their pastries. We tried 3: the first was a pine nut torta that had this incredible silky texture, but retained its cake-ness. The second was a nutella cake with hazelnut on top. The last was an anise flavored bun that looked like a bagel, but was my favorite by far.

11: In-florenza

So the title of this post would be really clever if I were actually sick with the flu. I am sick, though. I caught that pesky mid-February cold that comes just as the weather starts to shift.

Being sick in another country so far away from my bed has made me a little homesick. Okay, I'll admit it; it's made me very homesick. This is surprising to me since I consider myself somebody who doesn't get homesick. However, waking up on a crappy IKEA mattress at 3 am because you've got terrible night-sweats and a scratchy throat can make any person wishing they were back in their own room and own bed.

I've actually been having quite a few of these "ah-ha" moments when I realize that this is it for the semester. I'm supposed to have this incredible and life changing experience, to learn so much about myself. I'm not sure if I'm there yet. Without the academic rigor of a jam-packed semester, like the ones I'm used to and thrive on, I've found that I have a surplus of free time to sit and think and walk around thinking, which is making me wonder what the point of a study abroad is... (The answer is to have a life changing and incredible experience) But I think I'll blame my cold and this crappy February weather for my sour mood (at the moment).

I'm not sure how effective the CVS brand day-quil I brought over is.

Hopefully this will pass in a few days, just in time for a weekend full of day trips to places all over Italy (Pisa, Verona, Milan...).

9: From the Tree to my Tummy

Because Bess has the most courage out of all of us she had already ventured to the Mercato Centrale and consequently met the Tomato Woman. She is precious. I'd imagine shorter than my mother, who is 4'10". The Tomato Woman reminds me of a mother-mouse from The Wind in the Willows, or some fanciful and aging childhood tale. She wears a navy cap, similar to the sea-faring folk from the coast. She is called the Tomato Women because, although she sells a wide variety of vegetables and spice, her tomatoes are outstanding. I've never ate a tomato before eating a plump and pint-sized pomodori, cherry tomato, which are grouped in bunches still slinging to a partial vine. I am not sure if she remembers me or not; I've been to her stall every time I go to the market.

Actually, I assume it's easy to remember an Asian young man in this vast Italian-looking (if there is such a thing) populous. The Cheese Lady remembers me because I stop by often and buy a block of cheese for a few euro. She also has samples and I'm normally hungry. Even the bread sister know me. Today when I asked for il pane di toscano, molto piccolo, the older sister pointed the exact size and type of bread I usually get before smiling at me. I could be mistaken and have fallen victim to Italian charm, though.

Dinner tonight is potato gnochi in homemade pesto over a bed of fried zucchini and cherry tomato slices.

10: A Florentine Wish List (#1)

After almost 3 weeks of observing Florentines, I've begun to compile a list of essentials if one were to try to emulate that special something that is so Tuscan (at least Tuscan in this kind of weather...):

1. A fur coat: There are hundreds of stores that sell fur coats, but some of the women walking around Florence are decked out, to the nines really. Especially with the older women. They have those decadent fur coats that look lived in, they looked like heirlooms. While wearing a fur coat in the states might indicate a special occasion or a reason to look glamorous, Florentine women wear fur coats everyday. This means 2 things: first, that these Italian women have enough confidence and gusto to pull of wearing these grandiose coats. And I have to love that! Second, that it may be in fact that in Italy, everyday is an occasion to look drop-dead-luxurious.

2. A great set of legs: No skin is really shown here. Even miniskirts are paired with tights or leggings, but it's rare to see a miniskirt in this weather. Perhaps it's because people walk everywhere, but both men and women here have great legs. Like really great. I'd kill for a pair... Yesterday alone I walked north past the Duomo to via Guelfa for class, after which I stopped by the supermarket at Corso del Tintori, then walked back to the Duomo for lunch, and finally to my apartment. My feet are sore every night, yes, but I think it's worth it. And it beats the bus.

3. Humongous scarves: I think everyone knows how "European" pashminas are, but it is the excessively chunky knitted scarf that I see most people wearing. Younger men tend to zip their coats up to the neck before wrapping their 2-meter long scarves around their necks, creating a nest around their heads. Women tend to tuck their scarves (designer-name and high end ones) into their jackets, as do middle-aged men but theirs are criss-crossed rather than wrapped.

4. Something leather: Today I saw a girl that must have been fourteen or so, carrying around a gorgeous black leather Prada bag. I suppose that says something about accessories here in Florence, as well as how big of a leather industry is here. Also, Prada is having a sale. But aside from designer name handbags, I've seen all sorts of people with Florentine leather wallets, gloves (oh my God, the gloves!), the greatest variety of boots, jackets, tutto. My only leather purchase so far is a keyring tab with an embossed "Firenze" label. I did buy a pair of very quirky and comfortable loafers from a vintage shop, but they were made in Switzerland back in the 90's. Despite the vintage shopping and lack of leather goods I possess (or don't, rather), Florence is a place where it's hard to find the "good quality" leather over any bag at the San Lorenzo market. There's an abundance of leather goods, which I suppose why many, if not all, Florentines own something leather.

More edits to come throughout the semester!