Venice and Thanksgiving!

Hello, all! Sorry it's been a little while since my last post. I was waiting for significant things to write about. Last weekend Adair, Jenna and I ventured to the romantic city of Venice. Spencer had his own little adventure in Barcelona--so being free of the little testosterone in our daily lives--we decided to enjoy Venice in a "Mom's weekend" fashion. And, believe me, we did.
Mom's weekend for us meant: taking 2-3 hours to eat meals (obviously crushing bottles of wine in the process), going to bed early, sightseeing, and jewelry shopping. "The City of Water" provided a perfect venue for said activities.
Unfortunately the hostel we booked wasn't located "on the island of Venice"--as the snippy lady at the information counter so kindly informed us. Our hostel was in normal Venice. Must less picturesque. Lesson learned: Googlemap hostels before you book them. After we checked in we learned that we were staying in a 4 person room instead of a 3 person room. Oh, hey, strange Mexican girl. How are you doing? Sorry that Adair's sitting on your bed... Yep, conversation went something like that. So we went out to dinner to escape from our roommate. Three hour dinner--only people in the restaurant--ordered dessert. (fat 12-year-old Lauren did cartwheels) Got it.
The next day we went to ACTUAL Venice and wandered around with our friend Stacey who studies with us in Florence. It really is a cool city. I couldn't get over all of the crazy little canals and bridges, or the fact that because there are no cars on the island public transportation is a ferry. We had a good time window shopping at all of the fun glass shops--and running away from all of the terrifying stores with Carnavale masks on display. Not into that at all. The weather on Saturday was nice. Yep, I made a point of saying that because the weather on Sunday was NOT nice. Water below us--water above us...this calls for Skippers.
That happened. These are the crazy-immigrants-who sell things on the street's dream come true! Ten euro for a pair of these outrageous knee length waterproof "boots". But look how fashionable we looked wading through St. Mark's square, with water mid-calf. I really couldn't believe it. Quite an experience. I'd say the Skippers were one of the highlights of Venice. We looked like such assholes. (Excuse my language, but it's the most appropriate word, I promise.)
This week was pretty uneventful. Pretty cold and rainy--a little depressing leading up to Thanksgiving. Until we started planning our holiday potluck at our British friends' "flat".
It was "lovely"--or some other equally British sounding adjective. Our adorable friend Anna (not British) took it upon herself to make a turkey, stuffing, vegetables, mashed potatoes, and even found the ONLY place in Florence that makes pumpkin pie, and then asked if we could have our feast at her friends' apartment. I was put in charge of bringing rolls. Level of surprise: low. But, dammit. I brought some great rolls.
Anna even made these placecards. There's a bronze statue of a hog in Firenze that people believe has the power to guarantee a return trip to the city if you rub his nose. How cute are these?!
After our adorable feast, the English girls' first- I might add, we decided to play a board game. In keeping with Thanksgiving tradition. A little less outrageous than in the Evans home, but not by much. I think an equal amount of wine may have been consumed. The game we chose was called "Articulate!". It was Catchphrase. British style. How perfect is that, that they call Catchphrase "Articulate!"?! Let's just say that there are some pop culture icons who haven't made it across the pond...and made for some pretty funny descriptions to the ignorant Americans. With that said, Spencer didn't know who ABBA was. Anna got really competitive, in a Sara Evans style, and I called her "the Holiday Bitch". Everyone thought it was pretty hilarious that I call my mom that, but it made me feel even more at home.
So, it was strange not to be at home or in Cambria sharing Thanksgiving with my wonderful family and friends for whom I am so thankful, but I wasn't lonely. Va bene.
Miss and love you all. Baci!Now let the Christmas carols and excessive viewing of A Muppet Christmas Carol begin...

Mad-town

Lived up to its nickname. Madrid was insane. (Disclaimer: I'm not about to pretend that I'm getting used to this ridiculous "hopping-from-amazing-foreign-city-to-the-next" lifestyle...or that I'm not still waiting for my alarm to go off and wake up in a crappy twin bed in Worcester, Massachusetts.) But I'm doing my best to take advantage of "the Fun Express"--P.S. thanks for that phrase, Pops. And for everything else.
So, back to the weekend. Jenna and I flew from Pisa to Madrid on Friday morning. I sat next to a girl from Long Island. What the hell? Found our hostel in the Salamanca district of the city no problem. Checked into room 55--since been nicknamed the "Honeymoon Suite"-- because when we opened the door we found that we had accidentally booked a "double room" meaning ONE double bed. Proceeded to have a pretty solid chuckle at what the concierge must have been thinking. So what if we're a young lesbian American couple? (This picture illustrates the size of the 'loveshack' please ignore the size of my body. It's a problem.)
We mastered yet another subway system and found ourselves in Plaza del Sol--which I have incredibly vague recollections of from New Years 2006 when we were visiting Cate... I'm sure most of you remember those stories. I have a scar, if not. But the weather was beautiful so we wandered around the city with Jenna's friend from high school, Eva. She was an absolute riot, and she took us to get some authentic Spanish cuisine- that, let's face it, sucks. But that's okay because it was accompanied by delicious sangria. After some more eating and wandering we returned to our hotel for a nap. I am, for the record, in full support of a culture that has naps built in to their day. So we met up that night and had a SUPER fancy dinner of Doner Kebab and giant beers. Solid. We were, unfortunately, seated across from a group of hyper-sexual Spanish preteens. Who are just as bad as Italians at controlling their PDA. Gross.
After meeting up with Eva's friends from school we found ourselves in the infamous cave bar. (Made infamous by one Catherine Evans Morin--it was the only place in the whole city she told me to go. True story.) El Chapandaz, as I guess it thinks it should be called, is exactly as I said. A bar that is cave-themed. The entire interior looks like a cave, complete with a specialty drink called "Panther Milk" that pours from a stalactite hanging from the ceiling. Outrageous. We obviously took advantage and danced the night away to a playlist that I would have compiled in the 5th grade. Not kidding. "I Want it That Way" by the Backstreet Boys and "Wannabe" the Spice Girls hit single in 1996 both played.
The next day consisted of more wandering around the city. Visiting an incredible farmer's market-type place and being scared half to death by the "street performers" in Madrid. Who don't do anything impressive. They just dress up as scary things and make noises at you. This was my (least) favorite.


Jenna and I really wanted to see a Flamenco show, but due to poor planning and a general laziness on our part, we only put forth an effort about 2 hours before one would start. Apparently they require more notice. Woops. So we shared a hilarious, romantic dinner for two. Just to keep up the appearance of a honeymooning couple, I guess. Yeah, Spanish food, you're nothing to write home about.
That night we ventured out to a super authentic Spanish hotspot called "Dubliners Pub" (....) After we got over the culture shock it turned out to be an outrageous night. When we arrived there was a rowdy group of men in the back of the bar all wearing funny red hats. It quickly became obvious that they were a bachelor party and not long after we became their honored guests. "Where are you girls from?" "America." "AMERICA?! We LOVE America." They were British. And middle aged. And very drunk. After I told one of them I was from California he told me that he lived there for 4 months working on a walnut farm...close to...Pismo Beach? (the ellipses are meant to illustrate how long it took him to formulate these thoughts) Turns out this goofus worked in Paso Robles. What the hell are the chances? Anyways. We spent the rest of the night with these group of hilarious men. The fact that the buckets of Corona just kept on comin' wasn't turning us away... at one point I was leading a limbo with a man nicknamed (not inappropriately) "Big John". He will be the gentleman using my hair as a mustache.. Yep. That about sums that up.
Travel home the next day was annoying, but we made it. Ready to face another week of school before we head of to Venice this weekend :) Another week of school, minus university tomorrow because the students are striking. On Monday in class our professor (who bears a disturbing resemblance to Queen Elizabeth) informed us that the students would be striking on Wednesday and there would be no class. Things that don't happen in the US: that.
Today was also my first day doing my actual cultural project. Who's surprised that the Liberation Movement made me just a liiiiiitle uncomfortable? So now I'm helping in a CCD class once a week. Much more my style. The class is for 5th graders, and today I was much more of a participant than a teacher. The girl sitting next to me explained that the Bible is divided into two parts. The first part is before Jesus was born and the second is after. So long, Holy Cross. I've got all the religious studies I need right here. Taught by an 11-year-old. Who later asked if I was 16. I don't want to talk about it.
This is obviously really long because I don't want to do my homework...Hope you're all enjoying my rambling. Hell, I hope reading this is keeping you from doing something productive! Va bene.
Miss and love you all. Baci!

Bellissima Roma

Rome was unbelievable. Or "INbelievable" as I accidentally muttered to Adair while oogling at the Trevi Fountain on Saturday night. I swear, I can't speak English anymore. And I can't really speak Italian...contrary to what all of the Romans we interacted with said. Their tourists must be even more painful than the ones in Firenze. It was quite the ego boost. (Side note: there are still people called "Romans". hilarious.)
Travel was very uneventful. Which is typically a good adjective for travel. We took a three hour train from Florence to Rome and arrived at about 6 o'clock at night. From the train station we walked to our hostel--the Walter Guest House. Brief description: The Walter Guest House is located in China town (yes, there is a China town in Rome. No, it is not as nice as San Francisco's. And it's arguably not as nice as China town in Detroit--if that's a thing). It was pretty disgusting, to be honest. But- what's being a traveling college student if not staying in bizarre hostels? So we found the address no problem and headed up to meet the proprietor. If I had to guess "Walter" is about as far from a Walter as you can imagine. He and his entire family were crowded into the lobby eating cur

ry chicken and watching some outrageous Bollywood film. That's all I'm going to say about that. So he showed us to our room.. I really feel like this picture of the light fixture is enough to paint a mental picture. There were also signs posted all around that were written as ridiculously in Italian as they were in English. So as to confuse EVERYONE who might be staying there. Including the Chilean guy who stayed with us the first night. Who only really spoke Spanish. When I asked him on Friday morning as we were all heading out, "Where are you headed today?" He responded, "Chile." Clearly I replied, "Ooooo. Fun."
We saw all of the major sights. The Vatican, Colosseum, Pantheon, Trevi Fountain... insane. Rome is absolutely beautiful. Did you know that the Colosseum was built in year 80? 80! It's too bad we don't have millions of slaves around to erect outrageous monuments to narcissistic rulers anymore. They made some cool stuff. I mean, I guess we could do without the slaves thing. But, really.
The Vatican was (obviously) my favorite place I've ever visited, I think. Everything was incredible. And Catholic. Which is a double-whammy in my opinion. I had no idea that the Vatican Museums were as crazy as they are. Mummies, Roman statues, The School of Athens, the Belvedere Statue. Things I never expected to see in real life. Thank goodness it was all accompanied by an audio guide (of which I have become a HUGE fan. I'm gonna start taking pictures straight-faced with a peace sign in front of monuments. If you know what I mean) And then to finish it all of with the Sistine Chapel. Accidenti. ('wow' in Italian- pronounced ah-chi-dent-ee. I suggest you all pick that one up. It's 'great fun'.) I was actually informed on Saturday morning that I was drunkenly ranting to Spencer about the Creation of Man and how "Michaelangelo is like a mind reader or something."--Really, Lauren? Who drunkenly rants about that kind of stuff?
I mean, this entry is obviously best expressed in pictures. I had a fabulous time. And I did my best to "UMH", Modge. No disasters to report.
Off to Madrid with Jenna tomorrow. So pumped.
Love and miss you all! Baci.

Assisi and Halloween

So I got to the bottom of the mysterious dinner on Thursday night.
Turns out it was Francesco's birthday. So he will from here on out be referred to as my 38-year-old brother. Thank you very much. Today was a continuation of the celebration, since it's All Soul's Day (clearly a celebrated holiday in Italia) and we had ANOTHER outrageous meal in his honor. This one was serious, though. Leonardo, his wife, and their baby joined us. Along with an outrageously loud and opinionated woman who I can only assume was an aunt. I missed her name. Which is a good thing, because I'm glad I didn't have to converse with her alone. She was so animated with her hand motions--every time she started talking I was afraid she was going to knock everything off the table. Keep in mind, for the majority of lunch our conversation was about salmonella. No one feels that strongly about salmonella, Aunt "Sally". Get it? Salmonella--Sally? Lunch lasted for like three hours. Everyone talked loudly and drank wine and occasionally glanced over at the awkward foreign girl making faces at the baby and slowly getting kinda drunk... Casual Monday afternoon.
This weekend was lovely. I ended up going to that Halloween party at the University. What a strange experience. Europeans don't dress up as funny things for Halloween. They only dress up as "scary" things. Therefore, this party looked like a scene from a Disney Channel Original Movie. With grown ass people wearing witches' hats, and wrapping themselves up in toilet paper like mummies. With more cigarette smoking indoors and alcohol consumption--that was less like a Disney movie, I guess.
Saturday we took a lovely little day trip to Assisi. The birthplace of everyone's good friend St. Francis. It is such a beautiful little medieval town. There's really not a whole lot to do besides visiting incredible churches, and these crazy castles. But it was a very nice afternoon, and we had a wonderful Italian lunch at a great little cave-like restaurant. Afterward my friend Anna bought this meringue. Totally normal. I'd never had a meringue before, but this one was pretty delicious. The town really was beautiful, though. It was like stepping back in time.

Yesterday was Halloween. We were gypsies. Please don't get confused imaging something sexy like Esmeralda from the Hunchback of Notre Dame (also, please excuse the number of Disney references in this post). Real gypsies--or at least Italian "zingari" are MUCH less glamorous. This is what real ones look like. They walk around important monuments and harass tourists for change. Usually just shaking plastic cups with coins in them while pointing to laminated pictures of children. In reality, they're pretty terrifying. So, we did our best to imitate that. Even Spencer got in on the action. Disclaimer: my belly is stuffed. I'm not THAT out of control...yet. They always look like they have pillows stuffed to make them appear pregnant. I'm not entirely sure what the deal with that is. I mean, if they're not pillows-and are in fact babies-I don't get why they're so lumpy... I'm not sure if we were being offensive or not. But I think we looked pretty hilarious. Again, though, lost on the Italians. Funny costumes aren't their thing.
Today was totally worthless because it's raining and everything is closed for the holiday. So it's not even my fault, right?
We leave for Rome on Thursday after class. I'm so excited. I fully intend on having a Lizzie McGuire-esque adventure. (again, the Disney thing, sorry.) And I'll let you know all about it. That is, if you don't see me in a tabloid impersonating an Italian pop star.
A dopo. Baci!