Not to say that we Northwesterners don't know how to deal with rain, but I don't think any of us were really expecting the same kind of weather here in generally "sunny ol' Italy" that we were having when we left the states. In fact it has been rainy everyday and thunderstormy most days. Puts a little damper on sightseeing and garden picnicking plans. However, while there are plenty of churches and museums which could get us out of the rain they were even more packed than usual with hordes of damp tourists and that just didn't sound too nice either. So we decided on grabbing umbrellas and braving some water.
Yesterday was just an orientation day but we actually got some pretty great information regarding the city. Like this useful info- How to Find Good Gelato- yes it's everywhere and I'm sure none of it is Bad but some is much more authentic and delicious than others so here are things to know: don't buy it near tourist attractions- it's overpriced and not authentic, brightly colored means it's fakely colored, never pay more than 1- 3 euro for gelato (the cheapest stuff is usually the most authentic), and it should never be mounded up in a pile over the top of the container because real gelato will melt. If it's not melting it's not right. It should be level or lower than the top of the container it is being displayed in. Well we found a place that met this criteria and lo and behold it was AMAZING. When I tried mine I nearly married the little old man serving it to us. I then had to go around and try everyone else's. My peach and strawberry flavors though were to. die. for. Holy cow. The peach tasted like the best peaches you've ever had but multiplied by heaven.
We then found our way to a wine shop where you can bring old wine bottles and have them filled for a fraction of the price of a bottle of wine, a chocolate shop owned by one of the most famous chocolatiers in the world and a produce market that has the most beautiful fresh produce I've seen. I left the happy owner of grapes the size of golf balls and a giant yellow pepper probably twice as big as any I've ever seen for only 80 cents. Lovely. Now to make some pesto gnocchi, salad with fresh ingredients from the market this morning, caprese salad, wine, fresh bread... etc. :)
Saturday, June 19, 2010
Friday, June 18, 2010
l'drivers
In Italy, drivers treat pedestrians like an American driver would treat a pigeon. "It'll move it'll move." And if they end up hitting it they say, "awe well it should have moved."
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
Arrival
Well it wasn't easy...
I left my boyfriend with a car seat full of dirty tissues and dragged myself into the airport on Tuesday morning at 6. I was relieved to see my classmate Kim in the exact same situation. The trip actually started out just fine. We were able to change seats so we could all sit together and even ended up an hour early to New York. The problems began there. We only had two hours in Rome to go through customs, get our bags, check back in, go through security and get to the gate, so when our flight ended up leaving an hour late we knew we were screwed. Once we stumbled off our 8 hour plane ride (on which I was befriended by my seat mate, a 12 y/0 boy named Kevin who ended up falling asleep on my shoulder at one point) no one wanted to help us with our now dire situation. "You have to speak with Alitalia about that" "You made the reservation with American, you have to do it through them" "You have to talk to the help desk upstairs" "In terminal 1" "In terminal 5" "You have to take a bus to get to the terminal you're going to" "The train for your terminal leaves in a minute" "I can change her ticket but no one else's" After no less than 12 responses like this and we were trudging around like sedated sloths. But that's nothing a good 9 hour wait in an airport couldn't fix.
We decided to take full advantage of our time and really live it up. We sampled the local McDonald's cuisine. Well, Ross and Cassie did, Kim and I wanted to be a little more ethnically legit and got airport pizza (think Pizza Hut with salami instead of pepperoni). We then tested the comfort of the chairs by napping in them the rest of the time. Frankly I've seen more of that airport than I've ever cared to.
The next problem was our airport-home transport. It had been set up for us through the school but we never had a chance to tell them we were coming on the later flight. But then as we walked off the jetway, we looked amongst the sea of names printed neatly on laminated signs and saw a hand scrawled "South Seattle" paper. Boy were we excited. We asked how she'd found out about the switch and she said she'd gone to ask about what happened to our flight and where we were and when they told her it was confidential information she cried and they decided to tell her. She grabbed us cabs and we were finally on our way home. The cab ride reminded me that there is absolutely no way I will ever drive in Italy. Our cabbie told us in detail about this being fashion week with all the seasons new Dolce and Gabbana, Dior, Gucci, Prada having fashion shows and that there would be a lot of sexy people walking around the streets. He made sure to look at us straight in the eyes through the rear view mirror while doing this, demonstrating the Italian stress on in depth conversation, and lacksisity on attention while driving. He would accelerate through extremely crowded tiny streets, and whenever he almost hit bikers and pedestrians, which was often, he'd then yell at them out the window like it was their problem.
The apartment itself is a sight to behold. A super long narrow hallway leads to 4 extremely high ceilinged bedrooms, a family room, a kitchen area and 2 bizarre bathrooms. Let me explain the bathrooms. #1: you open the door to a room which is barely wider than the door itself. It is dark marroony red with a toilet and a shower head. That is all. #2 is about twice as long as a bathroom needs to be. It includes a washing machine which has a tiny short cord that leads to nothing. The one outlet in the bathroom is right next to the door which means anytime the washer is to be used, it is to be moved. We'll see how that goes. The bedbug situation is curious. I don't think we have them but mosquitoes we do. Michelle was covered in bites this morning- I nagged that they could be bedbug bites... but she was convinced they were not. Oh I hope she's right. We bought repellent so if they're gone then we'll know.
Day 2 was today and my jet lag has yet to lag. We picked up school issued phones today and walked a little more around the city. We explored Il Duomo, and the Ponte Vecchio and some cuter quieter areas further away from the touristy center. This was a big relief. I know I haven't been "living" here long at all but I'm already annoyed by other tourists and can't stand being categorized as one (though I know I am). But the hordes of people, the pushy sales people on the street, and the over priced food was a little much.
Though the weather here has been a little more like warm Seattle weather so far than the scorching hotness we were expecting, were introduced to some plague like weather today when in a matter of seconds it went from breezy and dry to thunder and lightning, sideways winds and torrential rain and quarter sized hail. The entire piazza fled into doorways and we hid out for the minutes that it lasted. When we could have no more and were literally drenched to the bone, bone marrow even, we decided to brave it and just go home as we weren't that far away. And after wading our way through deep puddles in sandals and a little dress we arrived home just in time for the rain to subside.
And that is one reason why now I'm exhausted. You don't want to know how I smell or how my feet look. With that image, ciao!
I left my boyfriend with a car seat full of dirty tissues and dragged myself into the airport on Tuesday morning at 6. I was relieved to see my classmate Kim in the exact same situation. The trip actually started out just fine. We were able to change seats so we could all sit together and even ended up an hour early to New York. The problems began there. We only had two hours in Rome to go through customs, get our bags, check back in, go through security and get to the gate, so when our flight ended up leaving an hour late we knew we were screwed. Once we stumbled off our 8 hour plane ride (on which I was befriended by my seat mate, a 12 y/0 boy named Kevin who ended up falling asleep on my shoulder at one point) no one wanted to help us with our now dire situation. "You have to speak with Alitalia about that" "You made the reservation with American, you have to do it through them" "You have to talk to the help desk upstairs" "In terminal 1" "In terminal 5" "You have to take a bus to get to the terminal you're going to" "The train for your terminal leaves in a minute" "I can change her ticket but no one else's" After no less than 12 responses like this and we were trudging around like sedated sloths. But that's nothing a good 9 hour wait in an airport couldn't fix.
We decided to take full advantage of our time and really live it up. We sampled the local McDonald's cuisine. Well, Ross and Cassie did, Kim and I wanted to be a little more ethnically legit and got airport pizza (think Pizza Hut with salami instead of pepperoni). We then tested the comfort of the chairs by napping in them the rest of the time. Frankly I've seen more of that airport than I've ever cared to.
The next problem was our airport-home transport. It had been set up for us through the school but we never had a chance to tell them we were coming on the later flight. But then as we walked off the jetway, we looked amongst the sea of names printed neatly on laminated signs and saw a hand scrawled "South Seattle" paper. Boy were we excited. We asked how she'd found out about the switch and she said she'd gone to ask about what happened to our flight and where we were and when they told her it was confidential information she cried and they decided to tell her. She grabbed us cabs and we were finally on our way home. The cab ride reminded me that there is absolutely no way I will ever drive in Italy. Our cabbie told us in detail about this being fashion week with all the seasons new Dolce and Gabbana, Dior, Gucci, Prada having fashion shows and that there would be a lot of sexy people walking around the streets. He made sure to look at us straight in the eyes through the rear view mirror while doing this, demonstrating the Italian stress on in depth conversation, and lacksisity on attention while driving. He would accelerate through extremely crowded tiny streets, and whenever he almost hit bikers and pedestrians, which was often, he'd then yell at them out the window like it was their problem.
The apartment itself is a sight to behold. A super long narrow hallway leads to 4 extremely high ceilinged bedrooms, a family room, a kitchen area and 2 bizarre bathrooms. Let me explain the bathrooms. #1: you open the door to a room which is barely wider than the door itself. It is dark marroony red with a toilet and a shower head. That is all. #2 is about twice as long as a bathroom needs to be. It includes a washing machine which has a tiny short cord that leads to nothing. The one outlet in the bathroom is right next to the door which means anytime the washer is to be used, it is to be moved. We'll see how that goes. The bedbug situation is curious. I don't think we have them but mosquitoes we do. Michelle was covered in bites this morning- I nagged that they could be bedbug bites... but she was convinced they were not. Oh I hope she's right. We bought repellent so if they're gone then we'll know.
Day 2 was today and my jet lag has yet to lag. We picked up school issued phones today and walked a little more around the city. We explored Il Duomo, and the Ponte Vecchio and some cuter quieter areas further away from the touristy center. This was a big relief. I know I haven't been "living" here long at all but I'm already annoyed by other tourists and can't stand being categorized as one (though I know I am). But the hordes of people, the pushy sales people on the street, and the over priced food was a little much.
Though the weather here has been a little more like warm Seattle weather so far than the scorching hotness we were expecting, were introduced to some plague like weather today when in a matter of seconds it went from breezy and dry to thunder and lightning, sideways winds and torrential rain and quarter sized hail. The entire piazza fled into doorways and we hid out for the minutes that it lasted. When we could have no more and were literally drenched to the bone, bone marrow even, we decided to brave it and just go home as we weren't that far away. And after wading our way through deep puddles in sandals and a little dress we arrived home just in time for the rain to subside.
And that is one reason why now I'm exhausted. You don't want to know how I smell or how my feet look. With that image, ciao!
Saturday, June 5, 2010
Predeparture
To begin, I would like to explain the title of this blog- "Super Dog Black." It comes from the one other time I've been to Italy. It was even Florence, if I remember correctly. While watching TV one day, my brother and I finally happened upon a TV show that could drag us away from Italian Flipper. It was a Japanese show, dubbed into Italian with only the title in English (Super Dog Black). In a backwards kind of way, it seemed fitting for this adventure I'm about to blindishly embark upon.
Eight years later I'm going back to Florence, sans parents, and this time to study baking at an international culinary arts school called Apicius. Excitement is the word I most often use to describe the trip but I can't deny that I've already experienced a rollercoaster of emotions. Let's not forget angst, exhaustion, frustration, curiosity, doubt, empowerment, concern, and straight up fear. It is going to be a wonderful opportunity, I know this. But although people encourage me with words such as, "You're going to have one of those summers chick flicks are based off of," I've had my doubts.
Without going into too many details, a few weeks ago I was nothing less than a wreck as I struggled to correct incorrect paperwork, prayed my passport would arrive safely and quickly, fixed flights, and payed all kinds of money I barely have. The icing on the cake came when we recieved the addresses of our new appartments. I looked mine up on google maps to see what adorable sleepy old street I'd be calling home for the summer. A map popped up and google told me there was a Bed and Breakfast at that location. It seemed to be more of a hostel so it made sense they'd put us there. I then procedded to read the reviews of the quaint B & B. Every single entry gave it one measly star and included titles such as "Beadbugs!" "Worst Hostel I've Been to in Europe!" "Scary" "Dirty" "Mean owners" "Ticks" and every post mentioned the bed bugs. One poor fellow apparently woke up with so many bites his eyes were swollen shut. Now... I'm not expecting the Ritz here. I'm not going to whine if my appartment isn't luxurious but let's just say I'm not so OK with living in an infestation. I promptly called my friend- who will be my roommate in the roach motel- and calmly explained to her the situation loudly, quickly, and very high piched so she knew I meant buisness. It was her suggestion to write back to the housing coordinator to make 100% sure that was actually the place we'd be. I had kind of jumped to a conclusion so I wrote her back. She responded quickly by reassuring me that the B & B was on the 3rd floor and our place was actually on the 1st. ...Here's hoping bedbugs can't climb down stairs.
Now my departure day is just 10 days away. I say this over and over but it still hasn't Actually sunken in that I'm going to be leaving so soon. There are close friends I won't see again until I get back. I haven't packed a thing. I haven't tried to learn Italin (I can count to 20 and ask "where is the the beer?"). I still need to give my roomie info on bills, the vet, my plant etc. Instead I find myself sitting at home, alone, watching "I Shouldn't Be Alive," eating cookies. This isn't getting me ready for anything. But prepared or not, the countdown begins. I leave at 8:30 on June 15th. It is currently 7:39 pm on June 5th. I better get packin.
Eight years later I'm going back to Florence, sans parents, and this time to study baking at an international culinary arts school called Apicius. Excitement is the word I most often use to describe the trip but I can't deny that I've already experienced a rollercoaster of emotions. Let's not forget angst, exhaustion, frustration, curiosity, doubt, empowerment, concern, and straight up fear. It is going to be a wonderful opportunity, I know this. But although people encourage me with words such as, "You're going to have one of those summers chick flicks are based off of," I've had my doubts.
Without going into too many details, a few weeks ago I was nothing less than a wreck as I struggled to correct incorrect paperwork, prayed my passport would arrive safely and quickly, fixed flights, and payed all kinds of money I barely have. The icing on the cake came when we recieved the addresses of our new appartments. I looked mine up on google maps to see what adorable sleepy old street I'd be calling home for the summer. A map popped up and google told me there was a Bed and Breakfast at that location. It seemed to be more of a hostel so it made sense they'd put us there. I then procedded to read the reviews of the quaint B & B. Every single entry gave it one measly star and included titles such as "Beadbugs!" "Worst Hostel I've Been to in Europe!" "Scary" "Dirty" "Mean owners" "Ticks" and every post mentioned the bed bugs. One poor fellow apparently woke up with so many bites his eyes were swollen shut. Now... I'm not expecting the Ritz here. I'm not going to whine if my appartment isn't luxurious but let's just say I'm not so OK with living in an infestation. I promptly called my friend- who will be my roommate in the roach motel- and calmly explained to her the situation loudly, quickly, and very high piched so she knew I meant buisness. It was her suggestion to write back to the housing coordinator to make 100% sure that was actually the place we'd be. I had kind of jumped to a conclusion so I wrote her back. She responded quickly by reassuring me that the B & B was on the 3rd floor and our place was actually on the 1st. ...Here's hoping bedbugs can't climb down stairs.
Now my departure day is just 10 days away. I say this over and over but it still hasn't Actually sunken in that I'm going to be leaving so soon. There are close friends I won't see again until I get back. I haven't packed a thing. I haven't tried to learn Italin (I can count to 20 and ask "where is the the beer?"). I still need to give my roomie info on bills, the vet, my plant etc. Instead I find myself sitting at home, alone, watching "I Shouldn't Be Alive," eating cookies. This isn't getting me ready for anything. But prepared or not, the countdown begins. I leave at 8:30 on June 15th. It is currently 7:39 pm on June 5th. I better get packin.
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