We're leaving Firenze for Roma tomorrow. I'm assuming we'll have internet there since we're staying at another Best Western and we had it here, but just in case we don't, you won't hear from me for another 4-5 days.
Just so you all know.
Saturday, May 30, 2009
Florence, Part 2
I’m gonna go ahead and do something smart by writing this in Word and then copying it into Blogger. This way if the internet collapses again, I will (hopefully) be protected from another dose of frustration.
As you can probably tell, I’m not as emotional as I was last night. Amazing what a good night’s sleep can do for you. Although, at the moment, I am pretty exhausted. On top of only getting 4 hours of sleep last night (don’t worry, I’ll get to this), I spent all day today walking around with Sydney and a bunch of other people. First of all, we went to two more museums today. That makes five in the last 48 hours. Realistically, I’ve probably seen more art and sculptures in the last two days than I have in all the rest of my life. Which I suppose is kinda cool. But it’s also really tiring. I mean, there’s just a point where I can’t take it anymore (typically after anything more than an hour). I probably saw close to 200 paintings yesterday and the last 120 all looked exactly the same. Art just isn’t my cup of tea, I suppose.
And neither is shopping. Okay, it’s been pretty great the past few days. I’ve been beating the GT odds pretty soundly these last few days. Yesterday it was 4 girls to me and today it was 6. Why would this be bad? Well as you may have already guessed, it’s because my voice counts for just about nothing. So today after our museum visits, we went to a faraway corner of the city and walked the streets, which had literally been overrun by vendors.
You see, shopping in Florence is very different than it is in the states. The streets were lined on both sides with dozens of little shops that the owners set up and take down every day, each of them specializing in their own little thing. There was a shop selling shirts, a shop selling shiny things for the ladies, a shop selling ties, etc…. you get the idea. But even the actual building shops, the ones that are built into the wall and not set up on the street, are small like that. We’ve only found one ‘supermarket’ since we got here, and it’s about the size of a Walgreens. Maybe.
So I followed Sydney and the others and we walked down the vendor streets for a good hour or so. Of course, nobody bought anything until Sydney bought a scarf at the end of the trip.
Honestly, though, it wasn’t too bad. I just plugged in my Zen (mp3 player for you iPod fanboys) and hung back to make sure nobody got mugged (which is actually a concern, apparently someone in our group actually got pickpocket-ed yesterday night). Anyways, after cruising the vendors, we decided to head for the aforementioned Supermarket to get some supplies for dinner tonight. Shopping there went quickly and smoothly enough, up until this little episode at the end. Let’s see if I can set this up properly.
Everybody but Sydney and I are line. Sydney and I, meanwhile, are observing a collection of fruits nearby. Sydney decides she wants a peach. She reaches into the wrong bin, picks up a fruit, realizes it isn’t a fruit, and puts it back. She goes to the next bin, and picks up a peach. She asks Lindsay, in a nearby line, how to tell if a peach is good. She then picks up about every peach in the bin before settling on a winner. We go and weigh the peach at a nearby machine, and it prints out a label with the barcode for the price with respect to the weight. With the peach in hand, I figure we’ll head for the line. But no. Sydney needs MORE. Her eye spots something, and she makes a beeline for the fruits again. This time she picks up a weird looking fruit which could either be a bloated cherry or a shrunken plum. We do not know. Regardless, she decides she wants to purchase one, and because of the item’s size and low price, I suggest she buys two. My advice is ignored. Sydney weights the cherry/plum and prints off the label. I am now guiding her towards the lines, as everyone else has practically purchased their merchandise. She resists for a moment and points towards the bin of cherry/plums, stating that she wants another. I tell her no, she gets mad, I tell her no again, and we get in line. She tells me not to be so ‘hissy pissy’. I tell her to can it. She doesn’t understand why the fruit fiasco has me exasperated and tries to explain to me that she isn’t insane. But her explanation goes something like this.
“I’m not-“ it’s at the this point that she spots a bouquet of flowers nearby and drops everything to comment on them “oh these are pretty.”
It was a real experience. Wish you guys were here.
Moving on. Let’s talk about yesterday now. As I said in previous entries, I was working on my homework until about 23:00. I was finishing up the last page of my work, looking forward to getting a long night of sleep, when the phone suddenly rings. Curious, I answer it, and the conversation described two posts before occurs. I go upstairs to Sydney’s room, where I find Sydney, Lindsay (Sydney’s roommate, btw) and Carol. We go to another room and meet up with about a dozen other people, all of whom are in our travel group.
The 20-so of us head into the streets, apparently looking for some club. The group is loud and drawing a lot of attention to themselves, as a good chunk of them are at least somewhat intoxicated, so I hang back behind everybody else and try to make sure no one gets mugged/stabbed/raped/lost/left behind. This part was kind of entertaining, in an annoying sort of way. I was embarrassed, of course, by the fact that we were obviously a crowd of Americans walking through the streets in the middle of the night making more noise than the rest of the city put together, but something about it was fun in a very twisted sort of way.
I wasn’t drunk, or drinking, for clarification’s sake. Neither was Sydney. None of the four us were.
We found the club after wandering around for maybe an hour. Keep in mind it’s around 00:15 now. We all go down inside and a bunch of stuff happens in the 30-45 minutes we’re there. I could retell it now, but I wrote it down more artistically last night, so I’m just gonna let the story do it. Then I’ll clarify everything afterwards. Here you go. Warning: Depressing story with some strong language. I want no emo comments.
no one is alone
How well have you lived?
How fully have you loved?
How deeply have you learned to let go?
These are questions I have learned to ask myself. In fact, I just learned them today. Someone taught them to me. But I heard them, and I ignored them. I stored them in the back of my mind with the rest of my useless knowledge and went on to digest the next morsel of information. But I guess that wasn’t the best way to do it.
The smoke is so thick it gets tinted every time the lights flash. I can see the clouds in the small room, like smog over a city, only there’s no sky, just a dirty ceiling, and there are no skyscrapers, just a bunch of people, crammed together like sardines, moving, shouting, jumping, waving, laughing, swaying, smiling. I see them and I frown.
The music is loud, it presses against my eardrums the way a heavy blanket presses down on you in bed. It’s deafening, but not in a way that makes you want to leave. It’s loud, but just quiet enough to make you want to stay. To see if maybe, just maybe, you can get a little bit closer to it, just a little bit nearer, so you can feel it pushing against you even more. Like the bass coming out of the speakers at my side. With each beat, I can feel my sleeve twirl in the force of the sound, like a sheet in the breeze. For a moment, I think about how loud that beat must be, to move my shirt.
There are people all around me. They are happy. I am aware of the fact that I am not.
How well have I lived? Well, I think I’ve lived pretty well. I mean, I’m not a saint, like some of the people I know. And yeah, I know I can be a jerk sometimes. So I’m not perfect. I know that. But still, is anybody? All I can do is keep trying and hope that someday it all adds up, right?
I’m sitting in the corner of the room. Well, not the corner. Let me be more specific. I’m sitting along the wall, on the top step. Yes, there are steps. You know, things like bleachers. Except they’re not metal, and they’re shaped more like giant steps. So I’m calling them steps. Because that’s what they are, steps that you can sit on and just look out over things. Like the steps in my house, the one’s I like to sit on when I look out the window by the kitchen table and admire the weather. But there’s no weather to admire this time around.
How fully have I loved? Maybe I shouldn’t answer that one. Maybe I should take a pass, because I don’t know if I can answer that one right now.
I’m watching the people on the dance floor from my step. Spirits are high, dresses are short, and limbs are long as they reach out and snake around your neck, pulling you in closer. I can taste the cigarette smoke. I can smell the alcohol. I can feel the music and the warmth in her hand as it wraps around the back of my neck. Her skin is smooth and inviting, silken, forbidden. The hair on my neck stands tall at her touch. But it’s not my neck, because I’m on the step, watching.
How do you measure love? Can it be measured? I mean, I think I’ve felt love. Maybe not for myself, but at least for some of the people I know. But I hate people. Intrinsically, I mean. Not personally. Just people in general. I hate them. For a lot of reasons, but that’s not what’s important. If I hate people, can I love the individuals in my life? My friends? My family?
A pair of eyes catches mine and then they’re moving towards me and then they’re right in front of me. It’s a girl I know. She is traveling with me. We had dinner together the other night, actually, and she seemed very nice. She says something, but I’m not sure if I can hear her, because the blanket is still draped over my ear. I lean forward and smile, trying to look like I at least know how to be social, and ask her what she said. She repeats herself, and then suddenly her hand is reaching out and it’s taking mine and I can actually feel the life in her. I stand up, still smiling and even laughing a little bit, and she drags me towards the middle of the room. Towards the center of the flashing lights and swaying people.
I want to love these people. I want to love this girl. I want them to consider me their friend. I want to be out there with them.
The girl lets go of my hand and we’re in the middle of the crowd. I can feel more heat now, from all of them. She turns to look at me and starts to dance, and for a fleeting moment through the smoke and light I am attracted to her. And then the moment passes and I’m laughing and waving my hands at her as I try to tell her she has made a mistake.
You don’t understand, I’m not supposed to be out here.
How deeply have I learned to let go?
She tells me we’re far away from home and that I should have fun. I know she is right. I hear the music. I feel the beat. I taste the smoke and the alcohol and the life in this place, vulgar as it may be. I know what I should do. I should dance. Or something.
But I can’t. I can’t because I’m embarrassed and I feel like I shouldn’t be here.
Fun is what kids like us have, right? We go out late and talk loud and drink and dance and feel alive. Our hearts race and our breath gets faster and we smile at each other and we forget the god-forsaken world all around us and we feel fucking alive.
But not me. Because I haven’t let go.
And I won’t ever be able to. Because I don’t want to drown. I don’t want to drown in life like the rest of them, because I’m afraid of what will happen to me. I will be like them, just another kid. Just another kid trying to feel alive.
Eventually the girl is gone. She’s back in the crowd. Another face. And I am standing in the middle of turbulence. I am the raft caught in the storm. I am the child lost in the mall. I am what I am.
I’m drowning.
the way you are alone
There. As you can see, I was very unhappy about the whole thing. I’m not sure why, exactly. Maybe I was just embarrassed. That girl actually came and pulled me out on the dance floor twice. And I just stood there like an idiot both times. I just…..well, Lindsay said on the way back that I couldn’t ‘let go’ of everything and just enjoy myself, that I wasn’t letting myself have fun. She’s right of course. I’m just not good at letting go in that sense. That’s what the story is about, I suppose.
Anyway, that’s the club story. And that pretty much brings us to the present. The six of us who went shopping are gonna go have a quasi-picnic dinner on a hill that overlooks the city and watch the sunset for a while. I think we might be going out again later. I kinda hope so. More stories! And this time I won’t get all dour, since I’ll be ready for it.
As Mones says, Ciao for now.
Oh, and PS. Sydney is alive. Proof below.
As you can probably tell, I’m not as emotional as I was last night. Amazing what a good night’s sleep can do for you. Although, at the moment, I am pretty exhausted. On top of only getting 4 hours of sleep last night (don’t worry, I’ll get to this), I spent all day today walking around with Sydney and a bunch of other people. First of all, we went to two more museums today. That makes five in the last 48 hours. Realistically, I’ve probably seen more art and sculptures in the last two days than I have in all the rest of my life. Which I suppose is kinda cool. But it’s also really tiring. I mean, there’s just a point where I can’t take it anymore (typically after anything more than an hour). I probably saw close to 200 paintings yesterday and the last 120 all looked exactly the same. Art just isn’t my cup of tea, I suppose.
And neither is shopping. Okay, it’s been pretty great the past few days. I’ve been beating the GT odds pretty soundly these last few days. Yesterday it was 4 girls to me and today it was 6. Why would this be bad? Well as you may have already guessed, it’s because my voice counts for just about nothing. So today after our museum visits, we went to a faraway corner of the city and walked the streets, which had literally been overrun by vendors.
You see, shopping in Florence is very different than it is in the states. The streets were lined on both sides with dozens of little shops that the owners set up and take down every day, each of them specializing in their own little thing. There was a shop selling shirts, a shop selling shiny things for the ladies, a shop selling ties, etc…. you get the idea. But even the actual building shops, the ones that are built into the wall and not set up on the street, are small like that. We’ve only found one ‘supermarket’ since we got here, and it’s about the size of a Walgreens. Maybe.
So I followed Sydney and the others and we walked down the vendor streets for a good hour or so. Of course, nobody bought anything until Sydney bought a scarf at the end of the trip.
Honestly, though, it wasn’t too bad. I just plugged in my Zen (mp3 player for you iPod fanboys) and hung back to make sure nobody got mugged (which is actually a concern, apparently someone in our group actually got pickpocket-ed yesterday night). Anyways, after cruising the vendors, we decided to head for the aforementioned Supermarket to get some supplies for dinner tonight. Shopping there went quickly and smoothly enough, up until this little episode at the end. Let’s see if I can set this up properly.
Everybody but Sydney and I are line. Sydney and I, meanwhile, are observing a collection of fruits nearby. Sydney decides she wants a peach. She reaches into the wrong bin, picks up a fruit, realizes it isn’t a fruit, and puts it back. She goes to the next bin, and picks up a peach. She asks Lindsay, in a nearby line, how to tell if a peach is good. She then picks up about every peach in the bin before settling on a winner. We go and weigh the peach at a nearby machine, and it prints out a label with the barcode for the price with respect to the weight. With the peach in hand, I figure we’ll head for the line. But no. Sydney needs MORE. Her eye spots something, and she makes a beeline for the fruits again. This time she picks up a weird looking fruit which could either be a bloated cherry or a shrunken plum. We do not know. Regardless, she decides she wants to purchase one, and because of the item’s size and low price, I suggest she buys two. My advice is ignored. Sydney weights the cherry/plum and prints off the label. I am now guiding her towards the lines, as everyone else has practically purchased their merchandise. She resists for a moment and points towards the bin of cherry/plums, stating that she wants another. I tell her no, she gets mad, I tell her no again, and we get in line. She tells me not to be so ‘hissy pissy’. I tell her to can it. She doesn’t understand why the fruit fiasco has me exasperated and tries to explain to me that she isn’t insane. But her explanation goes something like this.
“I’m not-“ it’s at the this point that she spots a bouquet of flowers nearby and drops everything to comment on them “oh these are pretty.”
It was a real experience. Wish you guys were here.
Moving on. Let’s talk about yesterday now. As I said in previous entries, I was working on my homework until about 23:00. I was finishing up the last page of my work, looking forward to getting a long night of sleep, when the phone suddenly rings. Curious, I answer it, and the conversation described two posts before occurs. I go upstairs to Sydney’s room, where I find Sydney, Lindsay (Sydney’s roommate, btw) and Carol. We go to another room and meet up with about a dozen other people, all of whom are in our travel group.
The 20-so of us head into the streets, apparently looking for some club. The group is loud and drawing a lot of attention to themselves, as a good chunk of them are at least somewhat intoxicated, so I hang back behind everybody else and try to make sure no one gets mugged/stabbed/raped/lost/left behind. This part was kind of entertaining, in an annoying sort of way. I was embarrassed, of course, by the fact that we were obviously a crowd of Americans walking through the streets in the middle of the night making more noise than the rest of the city put together, but something about it was fun in a very twisted sort of way.
I wasn’t drunk, or drinking, for clarification’s sake. Neither was Sydney. None of the four us were.
We found the club after wandering around for maybe an hour. Keep in mind it’s around 00:15 now. We all go down inside and a bunch of stuff happens in the 30-45 minutes we’re there. I could retell it now, but I wrote it down more artistically last night, so I’m just gonna let the story do it. Then I’ll clarify everything afterwards. Here you go. Warning: Depressing story with some strong language. I want no emo comments.
no one is alone
How well have you lived?
How fully have you loved?
How deeply have you learned to let go?
These are questions I have learned to ask myself. In fact, I just learned them today. Someone taught them to me. But I heard them, and I ignored them. I stored them in the back of my mind with the rest of my useless knowledge and went on to digest the next morsel of information. But I guess that wasn’t the best way to do it.
The smoke is so thick it gets tinted every time the lights flash. I can see the clouds in the small room, like smog over a city, only there’s no sky, just a dirty ceiling, and there are no skyscrapers, just a bunch of people, crammed together like sardines, moving, shouting, jumping, waving, laughing, swaying, smiling. I see them and I frown.
The music is loud, it presses against my eardrums the way a heavy blanket presses down on you in bed. It’s deafening, but not in a way that makes you want to leave. It’s loud, but just quiet enough to make you want to stay. To see if maybe, just maybe, you can get a little bit closer to it, just a little bit nearer, so you can feel it pushing against you even more. Like the bass coming out of the speakers at my side. With each beat, I can feel my sleeve twirl in the force of the sound, like a sheet in the breeze. For a moment, I think about how loud that beat must be, to move my shirt.
There are people all around me. They are happy. I am aware of the fact that I am not.
How well have I lived? Well, I think I’ve lived pretty well. I mean, I’m not a saint, like some of the people I know. And yeah, I know I can be a jerk sometimes. So I’m not perfect. I know that. But still, is anybody? All I can do is keep trying and hope that someday it all adds up, right?
I’m sitting in the corner of the room. Well, not the corner. Let me be more specific. I’m sitting along the wall, on the top step. Yes, there are steps. You know, things like bleachers. Except they’re not metal, and they’re shaped more like giant steps. So I’m calling them steps. Because that’s what they are, steps that you can sit on and just look out over things. Like the steps in my house, the one’s I like to sit on when I look out the window by the kitchen table and admire the weather. But there’s no weather to admire this time around.
How fully have I loved? Maybe I shouldn’t answer that one. Maybe I should take a pass, because I don’t know if I can answer that one right now.
I’m watching the people on the dance floor from my step. Spirits are high, dresses are short, and limbs are long as they reach out and snake around your neck, pulling you in closer. I can taste the cigarette smoke. I can smell the alcohol. I can feel the music and the warmth in her hand as it wraps around the back of my neck. Her skin is smooth and inviting, silken, forbidden. The hair on my neck stands tall at her touch. But it’s not my neck, because I’m on the step, watching.
How do you measure love? Can it be measured? I mean, I think I’ve felt love. Maybe not for myself, but at least for some of the people I know. But I hate people. Intrinsically, I mean. Not personally. Just people in general. I hate them. For a lot of reasons, but that’s not what’s important. If I hate people, can I love the individuals in my life? My friends? My family?
A pair of eyes catches mine and then they’re moving towards me and then they’re right in front of me. It’s a girl I know. She is traveling with me. We had dinner together the other night, actually, and she seemed very nice. She says something, but I’m not sure if I can hear her, because the blanket is still draped over my ear. I lean forward and smile, trying to look like I at least know how to be social, and ask her what she said. She repeats herself, and then suddenly her hand is reaching out and it’s taking mine and I can actually feel the life in her. I stand up, still smiling and even laughing a little bit, and she drags me towards the middle of the room. Towards the center of the flashing lights and swaying people.
I want to love these people. I want to love this girl. I want them to consider me their friend. I want to be out there with them.
The girl lets go of my hand and we’re in the middle of the crowd. I can feel more heat now, from all of them. She turns to look at me and starts to dance, and for a fleeting moment through the smoke and light I am attracted to her. And then the moment passes and I’m laughing and waving my hands at her as I try to tell her she has made a mistake.
You don’t understand, I’m not supposed to be out here.
How deeply have I learned to let go?
She tells me we’re far away from home and that I should have fun. I know she is right. I hear the music. I feel the beat. I taste the smoke and the alcohol and the life in this place, vulgar as it may be. I know what I should do. I should dance. Or something.
But I can’t. I can’t because I’m embarrassed and I feel like I shouldn’t be here.
Fun is what kids like us have, right? We go out late and talk loud and drink and dance and feel alive. Our hearts race and our breath gets faster and we smile at each other and we forget the god-forsaken world all around us and we feel fucking alive.
But not me. Because I haven’t let go.
And I won’t ever be able to. Because I don’t want to drown. I don’t want to drown in life like the rest of them, because I’m afraid of what will happen to me. I will be like them, just another kid. Just another kid trying to feel alive.
Eventually the girl is gone. She’s back in the crowd. Another face. And I am standing in the middle of turbulence. I am the raft caught in the storm. I am the child lost in the mall. I am what I am.
I’m drowning.
the way you are alone
There. As you can see, I was very unhappy about the whole thing. I’m not sure why, exactly. Maybe I was just embarrassed. That girl actually came and pulled me out on the dance floor twice. And I just stood there like an idiot both times. I just…..well, Lindsay said on the way back that I couldn’t ‘let go’ of everything and just enjoy myself, that I wasn’t letting myself have fun. She’s right of course. I’m just not good at letting go in that sense. That’s what the story is about, I suppose.
Anyway, that’s the club story. And that pretty much brings us to the present. The six of us who went shopping are gonna go have a quasi-picnic dinner on a hill that overlooks the city and watch the sunset for a while. I think we might be going out again later. I kinda hope so. More stories! And this time I won’t get all dour, since I’ll be ready for it.
As Mones says, Ciao for now.
Oh, and PS. Sydney is alive. Proof below.
Hate my life
I just spent 45 minutes writing and the internet blew up on me. Naturally, blogger's autosave feature lost the draft.
Awesome.
I'll be back in 45 minutes.
UPDATE: The hell?! Can I not copy and paste from word into blogger?!
Awesome.
I'll be back in 45 minutes.
UPDATE: The hell?! Can I not copy and paste from word into blogger?!
Friday, May 29, 2009
A new short story about my trip to the club, or not
Back from the club. It was quite the experience. Got me thinking.
And you know that when I get to thinking I get pretty serious....serious as in depressing.
But I wrote a short story about my experience. I feel like I should put it up, even though I'll probably feel otherwise in 12 hours.
This is me sharing my impressions of everything. It's depressing. If you don't want to read something sad, don't read this entry. I'm just warning all of you, because I don't want people whining in the comments.
This is a PG-13 story, there is some swearing. Sorry, I just couldn't think of a better way to say it.
Oh, and one last thing. Sydney had nothing to drink tonight. She'd want me to say that. And because she wants me to say that, you better believe I want to say it because if I don't shes going to whine about it all day tomorrow.
..........I just changed my mind. I'm not putting up the story. Too sad. Too emo.
Going to bed.
And you know that when I get to thinking I get pretty serious....serious as in depressing.
But I wrote a short story about my experience. I feel like I should put it up, even though I'll probably feel otherwise in 12 hours.
This is me sharing my impressions of everything. It's depressing. If you don't want to read something sad, don't read this entry. I'm just warning all of you, because I don't want people whining in the comments.
This is a PG-13 story, there is some swearing. Sorry, I just couldn't think of a better way to say it.
Oh, and one last thing. Sydney had nothing to drink tonight. She'd want me to say that. And because she wants me to say that, you better believe I want to say it because if I don't shes going to whine about it all day tomorrow.
..........I just changed my mind. I'm not putting up the story. Too sad. Too emo.
Going to bed.
Ughh.....
It's 11 PM here. I just spent an hour doing homework. I'm tired. I want to go to bed.
But no.
Sydney wants to go out on the town. With her friends. And I have to go with her. To make sure she doesn't die. Here was the phone conversation we had 5 minutes ago.
Sydney: *laughs a lot and sounds like an idiot*
Peter: "Where are you going?"
Sydney: *repeats* "I don't know."
Peter: "Who are you going with?"
Sydney: *repeats* "Lindsay and Carol and all of those people."
Peter: "When are you coming back?"
Sydney: *again* "I don't know."
Peter: "Ugh..........you're laughing too much. Did you drink that bottle of wine you bought at the store today?"
Sydney: *laughs especially hard, Lindsay laughs in the background, I get no answer*
So I'm going out to I don't know for I don't know how long with Lindsay and Carol and all those people. Thank you all for charging me with Sydney's safety.
I HAVE CLASS AT 8 TOMORROW. Why?
WHY?!
But no.
Sydney wants to go out on the town. With her friends. And I have to go with her. To make sure she doesn't die. Here was the phone conversation we had 5 minutes ago.
Sydney: *laughs a lot and sounds like an idiot*
Peter: "Where are you going?"
Sydney: *repeats* "I don't know."
Peter: "Who are you going with?"
Sydney: *repeats* "Lindsay and Carol and all of those people."
Peter: "When are you coming back?"
Sydney: *again* "I don't know."
Peter: "Ugh..........you're laughing too much. Did you drink that bottle of wine you bought at the store today?"
Sydney: *laughs especially hard, Lindsay laughs in the background, I get no answer*
So I'm going out to I don't know for I don't know how long with Lindsay and Carol and all those people. Thank you all for charging me with Sydney's safety.
I HAVE CLASS AT 8 TOMORROW. Why?
WHY?!
Thursday, May 28, 2009
Florence
Okay, we've only been Florence a day and a half and I already feel like I have way too much to write about. First of all, I want to put you all at ease...Sydney is still alive, as you can see from this picture I took a few hours ago.
She's shopping with a few other girls we spent the evening with there, in case you were wondering, for whatever reason.
Moving on! First of all, to continue where I left off yesterday, we all got on the bus and pretty much stayed on it for about 4 hours until we reached Florence. We took a 45 minute break at some rest stop where I got a mediocre slice of Pizza for 3,50 Euros, but whatever. I guess my first meal in Italy was a bust.
The countryside is very interesting. Around Rome there always seemed to be some kind of construction, but as we got further north towards Florence everything seemed to get a little bit more natural. Still, there's something about this country....it feels very old. And some of it feels old in a kind of "charming" way, as Sydney puts it, but most of it just feels kind of depressing. It's weird. Almost like everything is rotting around you. But then again, I don't want to sound like a sobfest here. There really is a certain kind of beauty to the city. But I'll get into that in a bit.
Remember yesterday how I said the whole concept of flying west to fly east seemed dumb to me? Well here's part two of that. We flew into Rome, right? And then we drove 4 hours, halfway up the country north to get to Florence. On Sunday we're going to travel 4 more hours to get BACK to Rome. THEN we're going to have to travel WAY north to get to Venice, passing Florence on the way. Now....I know I'm a STaC major at Tech and all (btw, me using that in this sentence does not give you guys permission to make fun of it [I'm looking at you Hoffman]) but that doesn't seem like the most efficient way to do things.
Back to the city, I suppose. Walking around Florence makes me feel a lot like a Lab Rat in a cage. Sometimes I wonder if God is up there taking notes on what Sydney and I are doing and how long it takes us to figure out where we are and how to get back to our hotel. Okay, in all honesty, it's not that bad. There's a river through the middle of the city and I've learned how to get us back to the hotel from that. I actually got us back tonight; everyone was rather impressed with my directional skills. ...not sure why. All the roads are thin, almost like alleys back home, just wide enough for one car to find down. There are buildings, most of them residential, on either side of the road, usually about 3 or 4 stories tall. So, like I said, it really does give the impression that you're in a maze sometimes.
I've also gotten the impression that I'm about to be run over. About 9000 times so far in this city alone. People here kind of just....drive. It seems like the only rule of the road is don't hit anything. The locals seem to have this whole street crossing thing down to a science, but sometimes our groups just jump out into the streets and hope for the best. And the drivers don't make it any better. They like to speed up to the crosswalks and stop at the last second to try and psyche you out. Sometimes they honk at you too, from, like, 80 yards down the road. It's all very fascinating and distressful.
Oh, before I continue on with talk about the city, I feel I should mention my roommate, James. He's a really nice guy, very amicable and easy to get along with, but he's got this very formal and to-the-point way of talking, so I always have to remind myself that's he's not angry at me or something. You know, he's the kind of guy that says 'Correct' instead of 'Right'. That might be a bad example, but hopefully it gets the point across until he gives me a better one. He actually reminds me a lot of a 'cousin' I have up in New York, which isn't a bad thing at all, if you know who I'm talking about.
Back to the city. I feel obligated to start with a picture.
That first picture is of the dome of the cathedral, which was the claim to fame for a guy named Brunelleschi. If you can't tell by the pictures, and you actually probably can't, all things considered, the dome is massive. I don't want to take a stab at numbers, but hopefully Sydney and I will be able to climb to the top of it (they have stairs inside) and get some pictures of the cityscape to try and give you a sense of things. The other two pictures are of the building's facade, which is, to put it simply, the most ornate, detailed piece of work I've ever seen. Ever. It's easily 100 feet tall, which is why you can pretty much only see the top half of it in picture two. About midway up through pic 2 you can also see a row of enclaves, which is what picture 3 is zoomed in on. This is just another example of the detail put into this thing, but each of those statues is at least life-size. It was incredible to see, which is a lot coming from someone who typically doesn't care about this stuff. Easily the most fantastic thing we've seen yet.
Anyway, after seeing that we went to dinner (we being Me, Sydney, Lindsay, and two other girls, all of whom are in that first picture of Sydney). It was, honestly, the first good meal I'd gotten since coming to Italy, which I admittedly blame on my lack of knowledge in what to look for and my pretty simple tastes when it comes to food. But, basically, for 10 Euros, I got a giant plate of pasta, a bunch of bread, and (lol) 3 glasses of wine. But let me defend myself now. Lindsay and another girl wanted to get wine, so they ordered a full bottle of the stuff, which cost them 12 Euros. When they realized just how much wine they had ordered, me and another girl at the table went in to the rescue. And the glasses were small. I mean, the full bottle was about 1 Liter of wine, and there was enough in there for about 10-11 glasses worth. So I only drank about 300 mL of the stuff. Admittedly, it is the most I've ever drank in one sitting, but thankfully I didn't feel tipsy or anything like that afterwards, which I was a little worried about since I lost my sense of balance after drinking only half a glass yesterday. Don't worry, don't worry, I promise not to drink anything tomorrow, or even that often, and never to get wasted or anything like that. So, no, there won't be any drunk stories on here....at least not of me. Who knows what Syndey plans on doing.
And I think I'm gonna call it quits with this. This entry took a while, so I'm going to go to bed without doing my homework, which means I'm going to have to do it tomorrow. Tomorrow's going to be really busy, we're going to the Uffizi, Accademia, and Bargello (all museums) in the city here, so I probably won't have time to do an update tomorrow. I'll try and put something up on Saturday night, just in case we don't have internet access in Rome, which is where we leave for on Sunday.
Well I'm off to bed. Good afternoon to all of you.
Ciao.
She's shopping with a few other girls we spent the evening with there, in case you were wondering, for whatever reason.
Moving on! First of all, to continue where I left off yesterday, we all got on the bus and pretty much stayed on it for about 4 hours until we reached Florence. We took a 45 minute break at some rest stop where I got a mediocre slice of Pizza for 3,50 Euros, but whatever. I guess my first meal in Italy was a bust.
The countryside is very interesting. Around Rome there always seemed to be some kind of construction, but as we got further north towards Florence everything seemed to get a little bit more natural. Still, there's something about this country....it feels very old. And some of it feels old in a kind of "charming" way, as Sydney puts it, but most of it just feels kind of depressing. It's weird. Almost like everything is rotting around you. But then again, I don't want to sound like a sobfest here. There really is a certain kind of beauty to the city. But I'll get into that in a bit.
Remember yesterday how I said the whole concept of flying west to fly east seemed dumb to me? Well here's part two of that. We flew into Rome, right? And then we drove 4 hours, halfway up the country north to get to Florence. On Sunday we're going to travel 4 more hours to get BACK to Rome. THEN we're going to have to travel WAY north to get to Venice, passing Florence on the way. Now....I know I'm a STaC major at Tech and all (btw, me using that in this sentence does not give you guys permission to make fun of it [I'm looking at you Hoffman]) but that doesn't seem like the most efficient way to do things.
Back to the city, I suppose. Walking around Florence makes me feel a lot like a Lab Rat in a cage. Sometimes I wonder if God is up there taking notes on what Sydney and I are doing and how long it takes us to figure out where we are and how to get back to our hotel. Okay, in all honesty, it's not that bad. There's a river through the middle of the city and I've learned how to get us back to the hotel from that. I actually got us back tonight; everyone was rather impressed with my directional skills. ...not sure why. All the roads are thin, almost like alleys back home, just wide enough for one car to find down. There are buildings, most of them residential, on either side of the road, usually about 3 or 4 stories tall. So, like I said, it really does give the impression that you're in a maze sometimes.
I've also gotten the impression that I'm about to be run over. About 9000 times so far in this city alone. People here kind of just....drive. It seems like the only rule of the road is don't hit anything. The locals seem to have this whole street crossing thing down to a science, but sometimes our groups just jump out into the streets and hope for the best. And the drivers don't make it any better. They like to speed up to the crosswalks and stop at the last second to try and psyche you out. Sometimes they honk at you too, from, like, 80 yards down the road. It's all very fascinating and distressful.
Oh, before I continue on with talk about the city, I feel I should mention my roommate, James. He's a really nice guy, very amicable and easy to get along with, but he's got this very formal and to-the-point way of talking, so I always have to remind myself that's he's not angry at me or something. You know, he's the kind of guy that says 'Correct' instead of 'Right'. That might be a bad example, but hopefully it gets the point across until he gives me a better one. He actually reminds me a lot of a 'cousin' I have up in New York, which isn't a bad thing at all, if you know who I'm talking about.
Back to the city. I feel obligated to start with a picture.
That is a sculpture by Donatello, one of a dozen inset into the walls of some kind of important building in the middle of the city. I think it was the Builder's Guild, but I can't remember. It was the headquarters of some kind of guild. I remember that. Keep in mind that this statue is just a replica (most of the pictures I'll put up of sculptures will be, the originals are all in museums) and that it's probably 7 or 8 feet tall. This was one of my favorites thus far.
Most of the exciting stuff happened today, considering that we were only in the city for a few hours yesterday, what with the bus ride and all. We got up at 7 AM (sucks) for Breakfast and class (not as much, but still not fantastic; I like both of my teachers, but sitting in a conference room and learning about these things just seems so pointless when the actual works are all within walking distance). Haha, James and I woke up when his alarm went off this morning, and the first thing we did was turn over and look at each other with some sort of exhaustion-ridden blank stare. Then we looked away and I went to the bathroom and we were both quiet for the next ten minutes. It was a weird moment.
Breakfast was pretty good, but I learned something. This lesson was reinforced later in the day as well, at lunch. If you order a crossaint (spelling, sorry) here, it WILL have some kind of fruity filling. Just so you all know, because I'm sure you were just dying for that tidbit of knowledge. Oh, and something else. Soda cans aren't shaped like they are back home. They all have the same shape as Red Bull bottles. It's awesome. I bought a sprite today for the sheer novelty of it. And everything is warm here. Everything. Water, Soda, Wine, everything. Even if you get it out of a refrigerator, it's still barely less than room temperature. I've had a bottle of water in our rooms refrigerator for 24 hours and it still isn't what I would consider 'cold'.
Anyway, on one of our trips through the city, we stumbled across the Florence Cathedral. Okay, so I'm going to disclaimer this part by reminding you all that I'm pretty skeptical about art and all that. I mean, it takes a lot to really impress me. Sydney walks through the streets and finds something to gape at every 10 feet, and I do not. Europe isn't really all that grand to me.
End disclaimer, because this cathedral was absolutely mind-blowing. Here, pictures.
That first picture is of the dome of the cathedral, which was the claim to fame for a guy named Brunelleschi. If you can't tell by the pictures, and you actually probably can't, all things considered, the dome is massive. I don't want to take a stab at numbers, but hopefully Sydney and I will be able to climb to the top of it (they have stairs inside) and get some pictures of the cityscape to try and give you a sense of things. The other two pictures are of the building's facade, which is, to put it simply, the most ornate, detailed piece of work I've ever seen. Ever. It's easily 100 feet tall, which is why you can pretty much only see the top half of it in picture two. About midway up through pic 2 you can also see a row of enclaves, which is what picture 3 is zoomed in on. This is just another example of the detail put into this thing, but each of those statues is at least life-size. It was incredible to see, which is a lot coming from someone who typically doesn't care about this stuff. Easily the most fantastic thing we've seen yet.
Anyway, after seeing that we went to dinner (we being Me, Sydney, Lindsay, and two other girls, all of whom are in that first picture of Sydney). It was, honestly, the first good meal I'd gotten since coming to Italy, which I admittedly blame on my lack of knowledge in what to look for and my pretty simple tastes when it comes to food. But, basically, for 10 Euros, I got a giant plate of pasta, a bunch of bread, and (lol) 3 glasses of wine. But let me defend myself now. Lindsay and another girl wanted to get wine, so they ordered a full bottle of the stuff, which cost them 12 Euros. When they realized just how much wine they had ordered, me and another girl at the table went in to the rescue. And the glasses were small. I mean, the full bottle was about 1 Liter of wine, and there was enough in there for about 10-11 glasses worth. So I only drank about 300 mL of the stuff. Admittedly, it is the most I've ever drank in one sitting, but thankfully I didn't feel tipsy or anything like that afterwards, which I was a little worried about since I lost my sense of balance after drinking only half a glass yesterday. Don't worry, don't worry, I promise not to drink anything tomorrow, or even that often, and never to get wasted or anything like that. So, no, there won't be any drunk stories on here....at least not of me. Who knows what Syndey plans on doing.
And I think I'm gonna call it quits with this. This entry took a while, so I'm going to go to bed without doing my homework, which means I'm going to have to do it tomorrow. Tomorrow's going to be really busy, we're going to the Uffizi, Accademia, and Bargello (all museums) in the city here, so I probably won't have time to do an update tomorrow. I'll try and put something up on Saturday night, just in case we don't have internet access in Rome, which is where we leave for on Sunday.
Well I'm off to bed. Good afternoon to all of you.
Ciao.
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
On our Trip from Atlanta to Rome
Alright, so as stated in my last entry, we're in Florence now. We got here around....I dunno, 15:00 Italy Time. At the moment its 19:00, and we have to meet in the lobby at 19:45 for dinner, so my goal is to get this entry punched out before then. I'm just chilling out in my hotel room at the moment, in case any of you were wondering. James (my roommate) is hanging out with his friend Michael Moore (who coincidentally looks uncannily like William Hicks), and Sydney is sleeping in a half-curled, half-spread out position across James and mine's beds.
I suppose I should just start with the flight to Chicago. Again, I don't understand the reasoning of flying us West to send us East, but that seems to be a theme for this trip. We flew this tiny little CRJ to O'Hare, I mean, the cabin couldn't have been more than 8 feet across. In fact, Sydney and I were some of the last people through the gate and they made us check our carry on bags because they wouldn't fit in the plane, apparently. Regardless, I sat next to a girl in our group named Carol on the way to Chicago, and we chatted it up a little bit before I just listened to some music.
Upon arriving in O'Hare, Sydney and I had three goals, since we got there around 2:15 Chicago time and our flight to Rome didn't board for another 2 hours. 1) To find a watch for me, since I forgot mine at home and thus had absolutely no idea what time it was. 2) Find an electrical outlet and charge our laptops so we could use them on the flight to Rome. 3) Get food. Unfortunately, the only one of those which came to pass was the third, and we did so by getting Manchu Wok at the O'Hare food court. Yum.
As for the watch, we went into a bunch of different stores. First into the little thrift stores that sell every other thing under the sun (by the way, Sydney bought a Cosmopolitan Magazine in one of these, to laugh at on the way over. I tell you this because it will become revelant shortly), and when they didn't have any watches, we started looking in the more fancy places like Brookstone. Brookstone said they didn't have any watches, but they pointed us to Mount Blanc. ....okay. I was wearing a T-shirt and shorts, Sydney was wearing the same, we both had backpacks, and we both probably looked terrible (in fact, I mentioned to Sydney in Atlanta that it looked like somebody had punched her in the eye), so I don't know why the people in Brookstone thought I wanted to buy a $2000 watch from Mount Blanc.
Needless to say, we didn't find a watch, I STILL haven't found a watch, and I'm just using Sydney's cell phone and adding 7 (since it's set on Central Time) to the hour every time I use it.
And we also didn't find any outlets. Well, we did, but there were only about 6 of them in a half-mile radius of our gate, and of course they were all being used. I don't understand why airports don't have electrical outlets. Air travel seems kind of like one of those wonders of science, you think they would make electricity readily available to their clients. It's not like we took a horse and buggy to Chicago, you know?
I digress.
Anyway, after getting food, not getting a watch and not getting power we went back to our gate and sat down to burn the last 30 minutes or so before boarding. I pretty much just sat there, since I didn't want to drain my laptop's battery, but Sydney decided to go ahead and crack open her Cosmo. Naturally, being Sydney, she didn't pay attention to what was going on around her, and it took her a good 15-20 minutes to realize there were two Priests sitting directing across from us, less than 5 feet away. Of course when she noticed she adopted one of those magnificent frowns of hers (you know the one I'm talking about) and closed the magazine, while I starting humming 'Highway to Hell'.
From here we got on the 767 which would take us to Rome. I got an aisle seat, but Syd was stuck smack dab in the middle of the plane, so she was kinda screwed. The flight itself wasn't bad, we watched Yes Man (which was a pretty good movie, I must say), and then I worked on Book 3 a bit and then Sydney laughed at Cosmo a bit.
On a side note, I'm glad all of you told Sydney to either "keep an eye on me" (Joey) or "not let me be too mean" (Hannah). I was touched. And here I was thinking I was supposed to be doing all the bodyguard work.
Back to the flight though. After all of that had gone down I decided to try and sleep a bit in hopes of lessening the Jet Lag. I fell asleep for a while (somehow), but when I woke up I discovered that apparently I had drooled all over the left side of my shirt. Thankfully, everyone else was also asleep, so I just pulled my blanket up around my neck and went back to sleep. I went in and out all night (it's not fun sleeping on a plane), and because of this I decided to take a Tylenol PM. Under most circumstances this would seem like a reasonable idea, but for whatever reason I thought it would be smart to take the pill 3 hours before arriving in Rome.....so naturally when Sydney woke me up for breakfast (which was actually delicious), I was completely out of it.
The plane landed without incident and we got off and got our bags, and from there pretty much went straight to the bus, where my next entry will pick up, since I have to leave in ten minutes for the Welcome Dinner.
Ciao?
We're Here
Hey everybody, we're here in Florence now. I'm just letting you all know with this quick little update while I wait for Sydney to finish drying her hair.....or something. All I know is that she told me she would be ready to go 15 minutes ago. And there are about 4 people waiting on her now.
But we're about to go find a little Gelato shop she says we HAVE to go to. She also says she knows how to get there, so there's a slight possibility we won't die on the way. Slight.
I'll write a longer update once we get back from the welcome dinner at 20:00.
But we're about to go find a little Gelato shop she says we HAVE to go to. She also says she knows how to get there, so there's a slight possibility we won't die on the way. Slight.
I'll write a longer update once we get back from the welcome dinner at 20:00.
Monday, May 25, 2009
Small Update
I don't plan on writing any new posts tomorrow. I have to be up early enough for my haircut and I know the Wi-Fi at the airport isn't free, so unless O'Hare has free Wi-Fi, you probably won't hear from me until late Wednesday at the earliest. We land in Rome sometime early Wednesday and then we get carted off to Florence until Saturday. Wednesday night there's a big welcome dinner for all of us, so that's probably why you won't be hearing from us until late. That's, of course, if our hotel has free internet for us. I'd be sad if it didn't.
Regardless, I'm actually going to be taking one of the digital still cameras we have here at home, so hopefully I'll have a couple cool picture to put up.
One last thing, on a more personal note. My family took me out to dinner tonight (seeing as how it's the last time I'll see them in 10 weeks), and so we went to P.F. Changs (which is an awesome restaurant). So you know how typically nowadays fortune cookies say things like, "You smile a lot and because of this people like you more," and are generally lame? The one I got today was actually kind of appropriate.
"You do not have to know where you are going to be headed in the right direction."
I need to try and remember that. Even if I don't agree with it, it makes me feel a little better about some things. Maybe.
Anyway that's it for now. Away we go.
Regardless, I'm actually going to be taking one of the digital still cameras we have here at home, so hopefully I'll have a couple cool picture to put up.
One last thing, on a more personal note. My family took me out to dinner tonight (seeing as how it's the last time I'll see them in 10 weeks), and so we went to P.F. Changs (which is an awesome restaurant). So you know how typically nowadays fortune cookies say things like, "You smile a lot and because of this people like you more," and are generally lame? The one I got today was actually kind of appropriate.
"You do not have to know where you are going to be headed in the right direction."
I need to try and remember that. Even if I don't agree with it, it makes me feel a little better about some things. Maybe.
Anyway that's it for now. Away we go.
Introduction
Okay, well, I guess I should go ahead and get this show on the road. I haven't used a blog religiously since 9th grade for our Exploravision Project so....this might be new.
I suppose there isn't really much to say, considering. I mean, at the moment I'm sitting in my pajamas at my desk in my room, typing to you guys (or maybe myself, who knows). The exciting stuff doesn't start until tomorrow, at which point I'll be up nice and early to go get my haircut at 9 AM, and then I'm off to the airport with my mother, where I'll meet up with Sydney (bleh. Naw, I'm just kidding, but not really). Our first flight leaves Atlanta at 1:15 eastern and arrives in Chicago at 2:15 central. And then we fly out of O'Hare at 5:00 PM central and arrive in Rome sometime early Tuesday Morning (Roman time).
But that is all tomorrow. Today, I pack.
Awesome.
Anyway, the purpose of this blog is just to get word out to all of you what Sydney and I are up to. It's MY blog, keep in mind, but since I'm essentially her version of Liam Neeson (although I'm nowhere near as awesome, I admit), I figure we'll be pretty much attached at the hip for most of the trip. I'll use this blog to share interesting stories, the dozens of Sydney-isms that are sure to come from the trip, and update all of you who care on how work is coming on Book 3.
Okay, well I'm going to go eat breakfast now.
I suppose there isn't really much to say, considering. I mean, at the moment I'm sitting in my pajamas at my desk in my room, typing to you guys (or maybe myself, who knows). The exciting stuff doesn't start until tomorrow, at which point I'll be up nice and early to go get my haircut at 9 AM, and then I'm off to the airport with my mother, where I'll meet up with Sydney (bleh. Naw, I'm just kidding, but not really). Our first flight leaves Atlanta at 1:15 eastern and arrives in Chicago at 2:15 central. And then we fly out of O'Hare at 5:00 PM central and arrive in Rome sometime early Tuesday Morning (Roman time).
But that is all tomorrow. Today, I pack.
Awesome.
Anyway, the purpose of this blog is just to get word out to all of you what Sydney and I are up to. It's MY blog, keep in mind, but since I'm essentially her version of Liam Neeson (although I'm nowhere near as awesome, I admit), I figure we'll be pretty much attached at the hip for most of the trip. I'll use this blog to share interesting stories, the dozens of Sydney-isms that are sure to come from the trip, and update all of you who care on how work is coming on Book 3.
Okay, well I'm going to go eat breakfast now.
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