Genova

Genova,  Genova that was the place that everyone kept telling us we had to make it to. They said there was really no excuse not to go as it was only two hours away by train, cheap to get too, and could easily be visited in a day. So one day I was sitting in class; I was 100% absorbed in the lecture (so enthralled in fact that I had managed to draw an entire garden on my blank page intended to be my notes),  when Sean and Amy suggest that we go to Genova that weekend. We decided to meet at the station for the train around eight a.m. as this was the cheap one for the morning departures. I was the firstto arrive at the stations, but not long after I was joined by Sean. However Amy and Ross were still no shows. Amy called and asked Sean to buy her ticket, then 10 minutes later to say not to because she missed the bus and wouldn’t make the same train as us. I called Ross to see if he was at least on his way, but he too would have to meet us there. So Sean and I took the train over. Much to my disappointment it was gloomy, cold and a bit rainy when we got there. Sean and I wondered around for a place to get a caffe while we waited for Amy. When Amy met up with us we wondered around some more. Amy needed to pull money out and while she was doing so the building right next to us was suddenly busy with people. We looked up and noticed that it had caught on fire. The top apartment had smoke coming out of the top window and the fire department showed up. Like everything in Italy they didn’t seem to be in any rush either. We stood with the crowed and observed the show. Luckily the apartment seemed to be alright as the fire was contained and no one injured.

After that we went to Christopher Columbus’s childhood house. There was not much there and we opted to admire from outside as the price was a little much for how small it looked. Right next to his house were some castle towers that we looked at. We had no clue where anything was located so while we were waiting for Ross we wondered into a bookstore to find a travel book with a map.  Ross finally arrived and he and Sean wondered around some more while Amy and I went to H&M. I was freezing with the wind and was desperately in need of a scarf. We shopped around and I bought my “sassy scarf” that has become quite the inside joke in Pavia.

We met the boys at this German Hoffman beer place that they had wanted to go to. Little did we know that we were in for the most disappointing meal ever!  While the beer was good, they claimed that they also served “authentic German food”. So excited to take a break from the pizza and pasta spree I gladly ordered a Wurstel. What I got however, was a 10 cent frank from the local supermarket. Oh yes, I am convinced if I had walked into their local Careffour I could have found the same hot dog on isle 4. It was a sad day indeed. Lesson learned… when in Italy stick the pasta and pizza.

The biggest thing that we did in Genova was go to the aquarium.  They house Europe’s largest aquarium and the second largest one in the world after Japan. It was pretty cool. They had a variety of different species. We spent some time ewwing at the eels, ahhhhhing at the dolphins and penguins, and ohhhhing at the jellyfish! After we had admired all the animals and had done our best to interpret the signs we decided to catch the train back to Pavia and have a semi early night home. Overall, It was a pretty relaxing day of sightseeing. 

Firenze and Pisa

After a month of being in Italy the weather finally started to perk up. Ross and I decided to make a trip out to Firenze (Florence).  After researching the best route and prices we opted to take a train through Genova and then down to Pisa. We would spend the afternoon in Pisa and then finish our train to Firenze where we would stay for the remainder of the weekend.

Friday morning rolled around and I was the first at the station. As I said earlier, control is just an illusion and you are always waiting on someone or something. The ticket line at the train station is no exception. With only two counters open, the line was pretty slow go. I finally made my way up there and said to the women “Vorrei due biglietti per Pisa oggi per favore”. Hoping I hadn’t butchered it too much, I crossed my fingers that the transaction went smoothly. She understood that I needed two tickets for the train heading out to Pisa that day. She asked me what time, and confidently I replied “alle otto” (eight oclock).  “Dove treno?” I asked, and I was informed it would arrive on platform two. Getting my tickets I walked away. When you hear the saying it’s the little things in life, this is a prime example. This was my first time that I had not only ordered a ticket completely on my own, but that it had gone over so smoothly. Excited that I had ordered two tickets in Italian, it didn’t matter how broken or hesitant it was, I saw it as a huge improvement.

In no time at all we were on the train headed towards Pisa. We got a 6 person carriage all to ourselves.  It was a fun train ride and for some reason we were really excited as we embarked on our first official trip. We went through a variety of landscapes including snowcapped mountains, and foggy hills to sunny beachside views of the Mediterranean.

On the train ride over

By the Mediterranean Sea... had a California vibe to it

More sights from the train

We made it to Pisa around lunchtime. Figuring it was a small town, we decided to do the self-guided tour from Ross’s Rick Steve travel guide. From the train station we followed Corso Italia. This is one of the main streets in Pisa and it led us to the Ponte di Mezzo. Apparently this bridge used to be lined with shops, however that is no longer the case. The bridge was destroyed time and time again by floods, and then it was destroyed by the bombings that took place during WWII. We passed through the Piazza Garibaldi and the statue of the famous leader. We followed the tour up Borgo Stretto, which is filled with places to shop before getting side tract with our quest to find food.

Piazza Garibaldi

Veiw from the Pisa Bridge

We stopped in this pizza shop that claimed they had been around for quite some time. We did not blend in at all with our back packing backpacks, and to everyone who saw us we were clearly American tourists, but we surprised our waiter by ordering in Italian. The pizza was very different to the kind in Pavia and afterwards we got ourselves a caffé, which is the routine of Italians at meal time. However, when we attempted to get up to pay the waiter stopped us. Stay there he said. Then he came over gave us the bill, and asked for the money there. This is very untypical, but we obliged. We thought maybe they had been ripped off by tourists and so this was their protocol for outsiders. However, I don’t know how we could possibly rip them off. With my huge backpack on I could barely maneuver my way through the restaurant, yet alone barrel down the street at full speed in an effort to avoid an eight euro pizza bill. Anyways, it became clear after a few moments that we were the ones that were going to be ripped off. They waiter held on to the money hoping we would forget about the change. Then when we went to the register he suddenly appeared and handed us the receipt. Ross asked for his change in Italian and guy apologized… “oh mi dispiace” blah, blah, blah. Okay so it was only 50 cents, but still it was the concept of how they went about it that was so wrong.

After our lunch we made it the most famous site: the Field of Miracles and the Tower.  I learned that the Tower was first started in 1173. It became cricked due to the soil that Pisa is built on. Pisa lies on shifting delta sand which complicates construction, and in reality all of Pisa leans. However, the tower is leaning at a five-degree angle. This is equal to 15 feet off the vertical axis and after the reconstruction that began in 1990 they have actually decreased the lean by about 6 inches. This is much better for the preservation of the tower. With each year that passed it would lean more and more, making its destruction seem inevitable. While it is a better state after the $30 million used to restore it, there are still many factors that threaten its stability today.  The Duomo/Cathedral that is right by the Leaning Tower was beautiful. We got to go inside and it was breathtaking. Each cathedral has its own unique style and I learned this cathedral is considered to be Pisan Romanesque. After getting the classic pictures of us “holding” the tower up, we made our way back to the train station to make the train bound for Firenze. 

Field of Miracles

The "must-have-must-do" tourist shot of the leaning tower

Saturday was our big day in Firenze. Our first stop was to the Duomo. The Duomo is named the Cathedral di Santa Maria del Fiore. Thanks to Rick Steve I learned that this Duomo was built with a big hole in the roof. They knew that they didn’t have the ability to make the dome, but they felt someone would eventually figure it out. Obviously someone did, because today we can see the dome.  We wanted to climb the duomo.  However as it turned out we went through the wrong door and paid to climb the bell tower. We entered the dimly lit, narrow hallway and started our upward climb. It is a good thing I am short because at one point I encountered a large line of people attempting to come down. However we had hit the spiral part of the climb and only one person could really move past at a time. I literally climbed under everybody’s arms as they steadied themselves waiting for me to pass. Four hundred and fourteen stairs later we reached the top. The view was so cool and you could see a full 360 panoramic view of the city. We realized that the tower was probably better then climbing the dome because we actually got to get pictures with the Dome in them. The top was super windy and so after taking a few too many pictures we made our way back down.

Narrow, steep, dark stairwell

We then met up with another American from our university and explored some more areas by foot. We went back to the Ponte Vecchio. The Ponte Vecchio is the most famous bridge of Florence. It is lined with shops selling silver and gold on either side and is apparently the only bridge to have survived the bombings of WWII. In addition, we also explored the Palazzo Vecchio.  We didn’t pay for the museum part but we looked around the free courtyard.  The real Michelangelo Statue of David actually stood at the entrance of this castle. It was removed in the late 1800’s to be preserved and has since been replaced with a copy. After that we of course had to stop for gelato. I mean after all we had been walking all day, hardly any breaks… life was hard. After recouping with some delicious pistachio flavored gelato we continued on. We walked up to Plazzale Michelangelo. This offered an amazing view of Florence and the Duomo! It also was the location of the cooper copy of the Statue of David. Out of the corner of our eye, this white church caught our attention when leaving. We decided to explore more and come to find out it was the San Miniato Church, which housed the first Christian cemetery in Florence.

Ponte Vecchio

Locks of love

Tourist, tourist what do you see?
I see Vespas all around me!

Creepy yes, but couldn't pass up an opportunity to get a
picture of a classic Italian scene such as this

View from Michelangelo's  Hilltop

San Miniato Church

Cemetary with view over Florence

Sunday we woke up to miserable weather. It was rainy, wet, and cold. However, on the bright side we had saved all the museums for Sunday so we were mostly inside. The museum most important for us to go to was the Galleria dell’Accademia. This museum houses the infamous statue by Michelangelo: The Statue of David. The Statue of David stands under a dome built just for him and is incredible! You don’t realize how amazing it is until you stand at its base admiring the 17-foot-tall masterpiece. Sure it is famous for certain male body parts, but there is so much more to this marble figure. To think that Michelangelo started this project when he was 26 and completed it by the age of 29 illustrates how truly talented he was. David is extremely life-like; it is as if looking in the eyes of someone real. He has fingernails, muscles, and even veins! Nothing was left out, and he was chiseled into perfection. Some of Michelangelo’s other works are on display there. Although they technically were never finished, I really enjoyed them. The figures look as if they are emerging out of the stone and it shows you what he did with each one of his sculptures as he made them from nothing into something to be appreciated for years to come.

We also saw the archeological museum. This museum had an Egyptian display. Apparently it is second outside the world to Cairo. One of the museum workers came up to us and told us she recommended we go upstairs before they closed the exhibit on that floor early. We responded in Italian, and she responded with a quick “mi dipiace”, and repeated herself in this rapid Italian. Staring at her we responded the only way we knew how… “si!” As we walked up stairs we both laughed. That is one of the problems with practicing Italian. If you speak it well enough to get your point across, they assume you are more fluent and then you are completely lost. On the other hand I took it as a compliment that she thought we spoke it from our couple of phrases. Anyways the exhibit turned out to be really cool. Most of the museum was in Italian, but a few things here and there were translated. We got to see old vases, jewelry, pots, and statues. However, my favorites were by far the mummies and pages from the Book of the Dead. For those of you who have seen the movie the Mummy Returns, you know exactly what I am talking about!   

After the museum, we walked back to our hostel to get out stuff. We were moving to another hostel on the other side of town for that night. We walked to the bus station, and took it to the station, where we informed to transfer onto bus 6. We could not find it at all. Ross was up for walking, but stubborn me refused. I was soaked to the bone, with my huge backpack and it had become a personal mission of mine to find that bus! Luckily not long after we did. We got off at the stop and headed up the street. Number 8 was the address we had and it seemed as though there was no rhyme or reason to how the houses were numbered. We found number 9, then next door was number 27, then next door to that was number 3. Finally we found it… or so we thought. Ringing the doorbell this man came to the door. Looking at us with what I assume was a ting of sympathy for our ragged and rained on look he asked how he could help us. “This isn’t Danny’s House Hostel is it?” I asked laughing. He of course said no and we apologized for bugging him on his Sunday afternoon. We had a nice conversation with him as he explained how to find this mysterious number 8. Eventually we found it this little door with Danny’s House on the fourth floor buzzer. We buzzed and the door clicked open. When we got to the fourth floor the door was open and this man was standing with a scarf and hoodie on. “Welcome to Danny’s House! I am so very glad you made it and to meet you! Come in, come in!” he exclaimed.  Taking one look at me he asked if I needed to change in dry clothes or dry my hair before we did the paper work. I said I would change and he led us to our room. There were no lockers and stuff was thrown all over. He informed us that we were to make ourselves at home because at his hostel we were family and not a number. He sat us down at the table in the room and brought us each a glass of wine and some chips. The wine was amazing, and it turned out it was from his family's region. We later met the other people that we were rooming with. There was a guy from Australia, another American, a Canadian girl, and a girl from Sweden. All were really friendly and we had a blast swapping stories and trading tips for traveling.  

Not long after two new arrivals came in from Argentina. I am not going to lie the guys were weird. They were easily in their 50’s, staying in a youth hostel. Now that is okay, but what is not okay is rudeness. Social skills are also good skill to have, and this guy was seriously lacking in that department. Here is a tip when you introduce yourself. A good start is: “Hi, my name is (insert here). I am from (blah blah), and you?” NOT: “so you are American huh? I hate Americans!” I mean really how do you respond to that?! The room got quite as if waiting for our reaction. We turned around and remained quiet for a bit… The other American from Jersey nodded his head and said “that’s cool”. He then launched himself into this lecture as to why he finds all of us ignorant and stupid. In his opinion, we don’t know anything and our government sucks. Trying so hard not to say anything, I turned away. The girl from Sweden whispered in my ear, “this is why I like being from Sweden nobody knows or cares about us. I just have to convince people I eat other food besides meatballs made out of moose!” I laughed at that.

Alright, here is my disclaimer... please excuse me while I vent because I was honestly very annoyed at his comments. He claimed we are ignorant, yet he travels the world and is pessimistic. He found the cons with every country. Hint for travelers number two: the purpose to traveling is to become more open minded, and to experience different cultures first hand. Now this is not saying you have to like everything you encounter, but you should learn and take something away from it. For instance, I don’t like how relaxed Italy is about government and legal issues. However, I recognize that is because I have grown up with a very structured and efficient system my whole life. I can appreciate that more that I have lived here. However, at the same time I can appreciate their laid back life style in terms of enjoying everyday life. Americans are always rushing and stressing and here they focus on just living. They take breaks to be with family and friends, and overall don’t stress nearly as much. So in certain regards it can be good. However this guy saw all Americans as uneducated. The man attempted to rip into me after I returned.  He commented about how much time I spent on my hair. I told him about 10 minutes because I had just put it into a pony tail. His response: “what?! Ten whole minutes every day what a waste of time! You should get a boyfriend so you don’t have to do your hair.” WHAT KIND OF ADVICE IS THAT? “I do it for me” I responded. “I like to put myself together and take pride in myself.” He looked at me like I was crazy and proceeded to ask me what I studied. I informed him I studied social work and criminal justice. “Ugh you are going to work for the government,” he said with disdain. “I could, or I could work in the hospital, in a school, in a nursing home, with the army, overseas, but I want to work with youth who are in gangs. I am going to make a difference… so sorry to put a damper on your theory of how Americans don’t care”. Okay, so maybe I couldn’t refrain from all my snide comments. He picked up on that and asked how many years I would have to study. “Four years for my undergraduate degree and then two more for my masters. Yes I am educated too,” I smiled politely. “Okay”, the owner of Danny’s House said clapping his hands together, “why don’t you leave these poor kids alone and everyone enjoy some more wine? Its aperitivo time”, he said as he ran into his room to get the food and wine. Saved by the wine… it was nine o’clock on the dot.

Just as a side note: when traveling hostels can really add to your experience. Take the time to research and find ones with good reviews. Danny’s House was amazing and still remains my favorite hostel experience (yes, despite the rude Argentina guy). He went out of his way to welcome all his guests and truly did make it more of a home vibe. He gave every guest a map of the city with an in depth recommendations of places to go and see. He gave free wine and food at nine every night, and even called each guest to confirm their arrival that day.  Hands down, an amazing hostel and the best one in Florence I would bet.

In the morning we had to leave super early. We had researched where to buy our cheapest ticket. We had to walk to the other station about 40 minutes away by 7:45. When we finally arrived we found that our cheap ticket train had been cancelled. On top of it there were no cheap trains going out from that station that day. So we had to pay double the price for our tickets and probably be standing room. On the bright side, we were on the fast train so it wouldn’t take that long. We got on and couldn’t find a seat, so we were really standing room. We ended up in the first class restaurant and we must have looked like death. We totally sat down at a table and not a single person asked us if we wanted anything or bugged us to move. Even the ticket taker let us slide. We found out that typically if you do that they make you pay for an upgraded ticket to first class. So I have come to the conclusion we must have looked pitiful. We got into Milan and had to wait for the next train two hours later for Pavia. However, besides that minor inconvenience we made it back home to Pavia alright and in time for class. All in all it was a fun and successful weekend.  

Who's Life Is This Anyways?

My alarm goes off at 6:30 in the morning. It buzzes and irritated I shut it off. I honestly have no right to be irritated. I set it early so that I would actually get up and be productive. However, productive is a relative term in Italy. In America I considered myself productive if I got up showered, dressed, and actually ate breakfast before I was out the door at eight. I would then bounce between work, school, and socialize a little in between. I would come home in the late afternoon work on homework and if I could muster up enough energy I would bike to the campus rec center for my favorite energy-boosting-carb-burning-sweat-inducing kickboxing class. After that I would more than likely end up in the common area with my roommates casually doing more homework, cooking dinner and cracking jokes with the TV in the background. PHEW! I got tired just writing that! That is definitely not the way it is here. My idea of productive as of this morning was to wake and walk to my favorite coffee shop and read some of my chapter book for class. Strenuous right?

 As I rolled over I heard the rain falling in its ever so depressing pattern. What is this?! Four straight days of rain?! “No piace (I don’t like this)” I moaned, making use of my still very limited Italian skills. Since my arrival everyone has said to wait until March rolled around, because it is sunny and just the best time of the year. Well, I don’t know if something got mixed up in the translation but last I checked it is March and there is no sun and it is sooooo not warm. Convinced I had been lied to, I concluded that today was not going to be a productive day. I no longer had the desire to get up early, and walk thirty minutes to my coffee shop in the pouring rain… no the pillow was calling my name, and after all I didn’t have class until 11.

Not long after I had fallen back asleep I heard the worst sound in the world. The jingling of keys, a knock on the door, and the sound of the broom handle clink against the wall. Panicked I bolted up. Judging by the sound it was about two rooms down. It was the cleaning lady! I really don’t like her…. Well I shouldn’t say that because she is actually very nice, but I don’t like the idea of having her. The last two times I have opted to sleep in I have had to hurry to get out of her way. At least this time I wasn’t just stepping out of the shower, but still I went to my wardrobe found some clean clothes and quickly put them on. I had my teeth brushed, and my hair fixed up a bit by the time she knocked on my door. “Premesso” she called as she unlocked my door. Seeing me walk out of my bathroom we exchanged our usual bonjourno. I always feel so weird watching her clean my room. I guess that it might just be my personality, but I feel that if it is my space I should be responsible to keep it clean. However, she comes nearly every day. She sweeps, mops, cleans my bathroom, makes my bed and even changes my sheets once a week. Not wanting to feel like an inspector, I decided I would go and get my free breakfast from the vending machine. Oh the vending machine… I feel this must be explained.

The collegio provides each student in the facility with a free breakfast between the hours of seven and eleven in the morning. You get to pick a croissant out of the vending machine and get a hot drink of some sort. Now this sounds easy enough right? Well I felt like the biggest dork the first time. I put my key into the slot, as I had been told to do and pushed the button for a cappuccino. All of the sudden the machine started to whirl, click, and make all these odd sounds. I watched as a little Dixie cup dropped down and the machine poured steaming milk, espresso, and sugar into it. As it dropped a stirring spoon into the cup lights clicked and a lot of Italian started popping up on the screen. I had no clue what it meant; I looked at it confused and didn’t know if it was done or what. It’s not like I have seen these machines before.  Seeing my expression this guy at the table got up and introduced himself. He said something along the lines of “you must be the American girl. If you need any help let me know”. I thanked him and everyone else followed suit and introduced themselves. I turned around thinking I will just smoothly get my pastry now, but of course the door was jammed and someone opened it for me too. Totally embarrassed I slunk out of the room. Just great I thought, now everyone is going to know the American girl can’t work a vending machine. Sure enough the word spread. My friend in the collegio, who actually studied at NAU last semester, told me at dinner: “I heard you met Andrea. He said you were having trouble with the machines. Did you get it figured out?”  I have since remet him, and I could not remember his name. “Mi dispiace, pero non recordo tuo nome? (I’m sorry but I don’t remember your name) “Andrea,” he told me, and then proceeds to remind me by telling me that he was the guy when I first tried to get breakfast! I laugh and I think of that all the time as I get my morning breakfast.

Upon returning to my room the cleaning lady had moved on. I finished getting ready and made my way to the university. Since I moved to a different collegio it is only about a five minute walk, which isn’t bad. I walked along the cobblestone streets, weaved through small alleyways, and dodged traffic, and in no time at all I was there. My first class was Civilita Inglese and it focuses on the colonization of India by the British. It is taught in English and so I can understand it with ease. We then have our usual two hour lunch break, and after eating in the cheap mensa I made my way to the Uni-Bar. There I ran into the other Americans and together we grabbed our afternoon cappuccinos to fulfill our newly acquired coffee addiction. The only down side was that we had to sit outside in the pouring rain, because the inside was full with graduation parties. However, the cappuccinos here are worth it. Honestly for a school bar they have the best coffee! I am addicted to coffee now. I never drank it that much in the states, but now I have one in the morning, one in the afternoon, and sometimes if I am eating with the Italians I have a caffé after dinner. It is delicious! While some people might be going oh that’s really not good for you, I would like to point out that the coffees in Italy are like a third of a coffee in the states.

Anyways, after we finished our coffee we made our way down the street to another part of the university. We have our storia della lingua del radio e televisione lesson. As the name suggests it is about the history of the language of the radio and television. Sounds interesting right? Well one minor problem: it is taught in Italian. Mama mia, molto frustrado! I have no clue what is going on at all. She speaks so fast and doesn’t seem to annunciate either. I catch about every seventh word if I am lucky. I focus like my life depends on it for the first half hour. I jot down words I actually pick out, however as my head begins to whirl I slowly start to lose focus. I wonder if she really knows that the Americans don’t understand a thing that is going on; I think there is no way she can’t know, but Sean thinks she believes we understand but that we cannot speak Italian. Whatever the case is I glance around and all of us have shifted our attention downward. Amy and Sean are playing a box game, Ross is making a list, and continue to draw another pedal on the flower I have started. Every so often I look up, but it is no use at this point. Amy turns to me and says, “I like your elephant”. “Grazie”, I respond noting that at least on the bright side my doodling skills have improved quite dramatically due to this class.

When was the last time you got to have such colorful doodles?!

Class is dismissed and I go with my friend to show her a shop where she can buy a bag for her weekend trip. Earlier that morning Ross had talked down one of the street venders into selling us his umbrellas for cheaper. Well I opened it up and the umbrella didn’t go up all the way. It was actually inverted and more or less created a bowl in which it caught the water in. Not long down the street the water started to pour done on my head as the umbrella could no longer hold it! I struggled to fix the problem, and for a second I thought I had; then without warning it went cricked and bent almost vertically up! As I stood there fighting my umbrella, Amy stood there laughing at me. “What are you going to do?” she asked. “se la vi” I replied as I tossed it into the garbage. Smiling I pulled my hoody up and said “I’ll do this Flagstaff style!” Lesson learned: there really is a reason you don’t buy the items off the street venders.

Luckily, I was able to find a good quality umbrella for a pretty cheap price because I then had to walk another twenty minutes in the opposite direction to go to the store for some food. The next day had just been declared a national holiday for the 150^th Anniversary of Italy’s Unification and that meant EVERYTHING was going to be closed. After getting my groceries, I walked the remaining twenty minutes home in the pouring rain.

Now take a few minutes and see if you can picture how elegantly the Italians dress. Here are a few hints: They are all color coordinating with knee high boots, long dress jackets and fashionable purses. Their color scheme is mostly black and grey with a bit of beige thrown in there. They walk with confidence with their umbrellas held high up over their head. Now picture the exact opposite. Try to picture a young American girl in a bright blue checkered ski jacket. White tennis shoes, and denim jeans, which are both soaked because of the various puddles she has awkwardly trudged and splashed through. She wears the classic Jansport backpack and is uncertain of how to hold the annoying contraption of an umbrella. Well if you pictured that, congratulations you just pictured me. As my one friend back home would say, I was one hot mess. As I walked home, I took to the path less traveled (yes, Thoroue would be proud). I listened to the rain drop on my light blue umbrella and it was oddly relaxing. I made notes to myself, starting with the importance of Europeanizing my wardrobe with at the very least some proper shoes.

As I walked into the room I could feel the water squishing around in my shoes and decided my first task was to get dry clothes on. I peeled off my shoes and socks and slipped into some dry sweats. In my room and in my sweats I am truly at ease. I feel the constant pressure fade away. There is no one eyeballing me because I am a foreigner, I am not struggling to understand everything that is going on around me, and I don’t have to try and form the most basic three word phrases hoping someone will understand my broken speech. No in my own room, I can take a pause from the rest of the world. I can think in my own head, in a language I understand inside and out, I can dance around to American music, read the news, and just be me. In a way my room has become a sanctuary; I have moments where I would be classified as a hermit and all in an effort to take a break from this new and confusing place. As I realize this odd feeling, I think to myself who’s life am I living? Surely this can’t be mine… but snap back into reality and yes it is.  Helen Keller once said: “Life is either a daring adventure or nothing at all”. Well I have landed myself in the biggest adventure of my life, but the point is this IS my life… just another day in Italy.





Scenes from my life: at one of the outdoor markets



Piazza Duomo



Under the train station



Car I see around... Its sooooo cute!



Milano

Milano is just a short 30 minute train ride away from Pavia. If Milano (a.k.a. Milan) sounds familiar it is probably because it is the fashion mecca of the world. Now I am far from the fashion diva, but I still found it to be a rather enjoyable place. Let me tell you, there is nothing more entertaining than watching the people of Milan. Of course there are the women who are all done up: make-up, hair, nails, and the whole shebang. Her eyes squint and her personality… well to put it nicely she screams “not-nice” in big bold letters. She walks (more like struts) her stuff in rather large heels that I would shatter my ankle in if I even attempted such a feat.  She is the woman who wouldn’t be caught dead in last season’s outfit, or the wrong color purse. Oh yes she is entertaining, but my personal favorite is actually the man that follows her around. Just like the woman, he is fashionable to the T. He has got on the hippest outfit right off the male run way. He has even got the bling to match. But wait there is more! In the crook of his right arm he is holding the woman’s little Pomeranian and carrying ALL the bags; however, if you look closely you will notice that a good chunk of the bags and merchandise are actually for him. Again this is Milan people watching… free and 100% entertaining!    

Besides people watching there is also a lot of historical activities to do in this booming city. Now when you think city, do you think of a huge Gothic Cathedral in the middle of it all? I typically don’t, but that is truly the case with Milan. In fact, Milan is the location of the largest Gothic Cathedral in the world! This was far from an easy task especially when you consider that it took over five centuries to complete. It was started in 1386 and finished in 1965. That is incredible when you remember that it is made completely out of brick and marble, and this was started before major machinery. What I found to be completely mind blowing was when I realized that it took longer to build this single architectural structure than the United States has been a country! Seriously! The United States declared its independence in 1776, which means it has been a country for less than 300 years. It took five centuries to build the cathedral in Milan, and the United States has existed for half of that! Think of how many generations were spent building that, and how many people made that building their life work… it is really incredible when you put it in that perspective.

We got to go inside, and that was very beautiful as well. It was very cold in there and when we entered there was a church service taking place. The people were all bundled up as they sat there following the service. As we toured the inside there was beautiful displays of mosaic windows, paintings on the wall and even some odd statues.

In addition to going inside we also got to go on the roof. This was by far my favorite part of the cathedral. The roof top was awesome. From here you could really see the detail that went in the marble carvings. There were also angles everywhere, and it seemed to me like each time you turned around there was something new or a different perspective to take in.

I have yet to mention that I went to Milan the second day after I had arrived in Italy and that I had a fine tour guide. It was a friend of the family’s daughter, and she along with her two young daughters escorted me around pointing out the sights worth seeing. So after we had seen the infamous cathedral they took me to see Basilica Sain’Ambrogio. I found this church to be very interesting in its own way. It was not nearly as grand or bold as the Cathedral, but it has a very rich history. I learned that this church while not the largest in Europe, is one of the oldest in Milan. It was built in 379 and completed not long after in 386. A lot of this church has had to go under reconstruction, especially since the bombings during WWII destroyed some parts of it.

While I did see more sights while I was there, these were the main ones. I do hope to back to Milan a couple more times, and due to the location it is very feasible. I still want to see the original painting of Leonardo da Vinci’s Last Supper, which is located in the basement of a church in Milan. Plus I would love to see an Italian Opera at the famous La Scala Opera House. I’ll keep you posted!