Playing Catch-Up: A Two Week Recap of Toulouse, Madrid, and Paris

So, I’m about a month behind on my adventures here, so I’ll do my best to be thorough, yet succinct. Here are the general highlights of March and the beginning of April!

I had a few exams the week we came back from break, and I’ve still only received one of those exams back. The French schooling system is probably the single most frustrating thing I’ve encountered here, since there are basically only two, maybe three grades for the semester, and I’ve still no idea how my courses are going. For one of my lit courses, I have a paper due exam week when I’ll also give my oral over a randomly selected passage as well as take the final exam. It’s a little unnerving, but I’m hopeful! Exam schedules were just put out this week, and they’re spaced out pretty well, so as long as I put in the time to study, all should go well.

The weekend after we came back from break, I hopped on a train to Toulouse to visit Matt, one of my friends from high school. I didn’t get in until Friday night, so we spent a few hours catching up over a few drinks at his place before he took me out to one of his favorite bars in town. Nightlife seemed to be pretty good, and we stayed until the bar closed around two. On the way back to Matt’s, we stopped for kebabs, an essential late night snack that we both realized we would miss having in the states. The next morning, we took our time getting up before walking around town. Unfortunately, I was still camera-less at this point, having had my camera stolen in Italy the week before, so I don’t have photos of the pink buildings that Toulouse is known for, la ville rose, as the French call it. We walked through the town square where people were playing touch (rugby), the neat old buildings and town hall bordering the square. There were people all over the river bank, just sitting and relaxing or having lunch, as well as in the couple of little parks we passed through.

We stopped for lunch at a little café on the corner and I had my first taste of foie gras in the salad I ordered. At first it was okay, but my mind got going and I couldn’t stop thinking about what I was eating and after a few bites, I handed over the rest to Matt. Foie gras, goose liver, and pâté are hugely popular here, and every once in a while they taste really good, but I’m still kind of hit or miss on whether I like it or not. After lunch, we made our way back to Matt’s place where we hung out for the better part of the afternoon just talking and goofing around on the internet. Matt played me some of the music he and Graham, another high school friend and Matt’s roommate in France, have been working on (check it out here). We spent the evening and night hanging out and playing games with Matt and Graham’s friends, and we also ventured out for another kebab, which may have been the best one I’ve ever had. It was on a pita-type bread instead of the typical tortilla-style and it was overflowing with fries. Delicious. We pretty much crashed once we got back to the dorms, then had a generally lazy Sunday before I caught my train back to Aix on Sunday. Overall, it was a great weekend spent catching up with old friends and getting a little better acquainted with my newest home country!

The following week brought the last of my midterms, as well as visitors from home: Jenn and Brooke! They arrived Thursday with some things from my parents, including the replacement camera I sent them money for, so the rest of these photos will be mine again. We took time to have a French picnic in the park on Friday after my class, giving them some time to recover from their jetlag. We met some of the program girls and had an absolute feast in Parc Jourdan: multiple baguettes, at least five kinds of cheeses, a few kinds of meat, pâté, cookies, and wine. We laid around in the sun for a good part of the afternoon before Jenn, Brooke, and I made our way back to my place to pack for Madrid!

We arrived in the city late at night and basically went straight to bed. Once awake on Saturday, we made our way around the city, going through a few of the parks and into the Rena Sofia Museum where Picasso’s Guernica is kept. What an incredible painting. They had a small mural showing the different stages of how the painting was done. Incredible. I also found possibly my new favorite piece of art, called Packing the Hard Potatoes. Isn’t it cool??

After the museum, we passed by some book vendors on the way to one of the many parks and botanical gardens where we saw tons and tons of bikers and rollerbladers. I’ve never seen so many rollerbladers! And they were doing all kinds of tricks, too. There were so many people out and about. Families, couples, tour groups, all kinds, and they were all being active. There were all kinds of performers all over the place too, playing all different kinds of music. We saw some of the illegal souvenir vendors get chased by the police, which was even more entertaining. We thought about renting a boat to putter around on the lake, but decided against it for the sake of money and instead caught the metro into the main part of the city and put our money to use shopping and eating. I’ll suffice it to say that it was money well spent!

We rocked back up to the hostel around nightfall when we figured out how to spend our night. The hostel had a pub crawl and we’d seen ads for a number of shows, and after consulting the front desk, we went a few doors down and bought tickets for the flamenco show. I’m so glad we did! The dancing was incredible, and the sangria that came with the ticket was unbelievably tasty.

On Sunday, we got up early to get to the tower in the center of the city where you can walk around on the roof and see all of Madrid splayed out in front of you. The photos don’t even do it justice.

On the way back, we stopped for McDonald’s bringing it up to my fifth international McDonald’s experience. I hadn’t meant to try it in every country, but I managed to hit it in Australia (more often than I would have liked, actually!), Italy, and France, so I figured I may as well add Spain to the list. We made our way to the airport, and had a pleasant flight home to Aix where we relaxed inside with some Pizza Capri and movies, since it proved to be a rainy and gloomy day.

On Monday night, I got to take Jenn and Brooke to my conversation exchange family’s house for dinner. I’ve been going to this family’s house once a week for the past few months to speak English with them, and in return, they feed me a French dinner. My “mom”, Corinne, was kind enough to invite us all over, and she definitely pulled out all the stops on that week’s dinner. Grated carrots with a Balsamic dressing, baked eggplant with a marinara sauce, raisins and radishes to go with buttered bread, cheese, and wine, followed by a raspberry tart and chocolate pie I bought and brought for dessert. Everything was absolutely delicious. This past week, I asked Corinne if she would share her recipes with me, and she said she would write some up for me – in English, because she wants to practice! They are such a nice and friendly family, and I’m going to be so sad when my weekly visits come to a finish. The three of us more or less rolled out the door with the guidebooks they loaned me since they knew we would be doing a little traveling around southern France and Paris over the week. Like I said, such a nice family.

The next day, we woke up early to catch the bus with Roz and Leah to go to Cassis, a small town right on the sea with some beautiful beaches. Unfortunately, the weather was still a little gloomy and not quite warm enough for swim suits, so we sat clothed on our towels and played cards for the afternoon. But we felt it was necessary to at least snap a bikini shot, so we went for it despite the cold! Then we got coffees to warm us up, along with an appetizer at one of the cafés on the port and enjoyed the view and sound of the water.

Wednesday took us down to Marseille where we walked around the port, the same place I spent my first weekend in France. I hadn’t been back there since, so it was really nice to revisit in just slightly nicer weather. After the port, we went up to La Dame de la Garde, the beautiful church on the top of the hill. We did some exploring around the area and took our time at the various lookout points, appreciating the city and sea in front of us.

We played host to a number of the girls at my apartment that night where we played card games and chatted. On Thursday, I came back from class to find Jenn and Brooke having shopped and explored Aix for the day. We visited the tea shop together before my night class, and I came back with just enough time to throw down some food and leave for the Hunger Games! The film actually came out a few days earlier in France than it did in the states, so we were all glad to not have to wait any longer to see the movie. And what a great movie it was!

Unfortunately, we went straight back to my place after the movie, since we had to be up at 4am to catch our train up to Paris on Friday morning. Which turned out to be a bit of a fiasco.

We got to the bus stop in plenty of time to catch the 5:20 bus to the train station, only 15 minutes away. What we didn’t anticipate was the accident/spill that had traffic backed up significantly. We realized the police were even turning cars around and forcing them to go back the way they came and started to get worried. We breathed a sigh of relief when the bus reached the front of the line and they let us through. That excitement was short-lived, however, as we were stopped again almost immediately. That’s when the bus driver opened the doors and told us that anyone going to the train station could jump off. He wasn’t joking. So, the three of us got off the bus on the side of the highway around 5:50 along with several other passengers, and began to hike the last leg of the journey to the train station on foot. Oh yeah, Jenn and Brooke had their rolling luggage too. Knowing we only had a few minutes and a solid half or three-quarters of a mile to go, we basically jogged. I assume there was some kind of spill because we jogged over this saw-dusty, powder crap that was sprinkled all over the road. It didn’t help the breathing and running situation any, that’s for sure. We rocked up to the train station and caught the elevator up, seeing that our train was at the platform. Finally, we boarded the train at the first car and no less than a minute later, it started on its way. Whew.

We arrived in Paris three hours later and made our way to our hotel before heading to Montmartre, at which point I realized I forgot my camera at home, so this will be a word heavy section too. Whoops. Anyway, we got off the métro stop and walked a few hundred meters out of the station and around the corner where at least fifty men were all standing, lining the walls, cat-calling us nonstop. I’ve mostly gotten used to the comments men make and the way they look you up and down as you walk by – it’s an inevitable daily occurrence here in France, but I’d never been intimidated until then. Maybe it was because there were so many of them, or maybe because it took us a minute to pick through the crowd so it was nonstop, but I was actually unbelievably uncomfortable and not in the least bit flattered. Just, ew.

We walked around Montmartre seeing all the big attractions, like Sacre Coeur and the Moulin Rouge before heading back to the hotel for a quick nap that turned into a long nap. Well rested, we set back out into the city to hit the other big monuments: Notre Dame, the Louvre, we hired a bike to take us part of the way up the Champs Élysées to l’Arc de Triomphe, then the métro to the Eifel Tower just as it was getting dark. We were walking through the Champs de Mars just as the tower lit up with all the sparkly lights like it does every night before heading to dinner around the corner. That night, we met up with a friend of a friend at a bar a little ways from our hotel before turning in for the night. We got up to get Jenn to the airport for her morning flight, then Brooke and I went back to the Eifel Tower to see it in the light before taking a coffee break. We spent the rest of the morning and afternoon sitting in front of Jardin de Tuileries, the Louvre in one direction and the Champs Élysées to the other. Not a bad way to spend an afternoon!

I caught my afternoon train home that Saturday to prepare for another school week! That brings me up to the end of March, and there’s still heaps to tell you about the last two weeks, but I’ll cut it there since this post is getting a bit long. I’ll get this next post up before I take off for the UK with Roz and Chelsea next week on our two week spring break! Hope this one finds you all doing well. Love and miss you all!

Here and there,
Kiley

No parlo italiano: The third and final installment of our adventures in Italia

I left you having just arrived in Rome, about halfway through our travels in Italy. We woke up in reasonable time and caught the bus to the metro to the center of Rome. We’d chosen a hostel outside the city so as to avoid driving through the city proper, but that meant that transportation took a bit longer. All ill thoughts were dismissed when we stepped outside the metro station, smack in front of the Colosseum, perfectly backlit by the mid-morning sun. It officially felt like we were in Rome.

We stopped for a quick bite at the sandwich shop right in front of the monument – and paid at least twice what we should have for a simple sandwich. Note to self: don’t buy food so close to such attractions, because the price shoots up like nobody’s business. Anyway, we ate and made our way toward the Colosseum among the eager crowds of diverse and muttering tourists, hassled as we went by the dozens and dozens of tour guides. We were irritated until we saw the enormous line to get in. Knowing we had only the day to explore one of the world’s biggest, greatest cities, we eventually caved and had a guided tour for about seven Euros more.

Thank goodness we did, because there was so much that we just wouldn’t have understood without it. Thinking about all the history that’s taken place, the fact that spectators stood watching gladiators in the same places I stood, that the actual Caesar and other men and women of legends had been in the same place, was overwhelming and incredibly cool. Also, the steps were atrocious. The ancient Romans must have had monster thigh muscles if the common stairwell was anything like the ones we climbed. That or time has caused the stairs to shift.

The tour lasted an hour and we debated walking through the Forum, but considering time and the fact that the Vatican is a bit of a hike, we opted not to check it out and instead boarded the metro to take us across the river. We arrived at the Vatican in much the same fashion, hounded by guides offering tours in I don’t know how many languages. As we waited for a crosswalk, a man with an unmistakable New York accent approached us, claiming to be an honest recruiter who wanted us to get as much as we could out of the tour. He chastised the collective death glare we gave him, having no intention to fork over the money for this tour too, and then he asked us if we could tell him where the entrance was. We couldn’t. Touché, old man, touché.

So we signed up for the tour and he led us around the corner to his office where he introduced us to our Scottish tour guide, Ian. I think taking this tour was the best decision we made all week. Ian was lively and entertaining from the very start, accommodating all kinds of humor, though the ten-ish-person group we had seemed to be of similar tastes. Or maybe everyone just loved his accent like we did and were ready to listen to anything that he said. Either way, Ian guided us through the Vatican Museum beginning with the earliest art. The figures in the beginning of the period (and I can’t remember the name of the era for the life of me, so bear with me, pretty please) showed indistinct figures that lacked the precision of the later and anatomically accurate paintings and sculptures of Michelangelo. As we moved through the museum, we could see the progression of science and thought as various religious scenes were depicted, as well as scenes blending the pagan gods of Rome and Greece with Christian images of Jesus, Mary, and other figures and stories.

A few of my favorites were "Pietra", a statue by Michelangelo, and "School of Athens", by Raphael. The relationship between Michelangelo and Raphael was explained to us – a difficult relationship in that they basically hated each other, but Raphael understood what a master Michelangelo was after sneaking a peak at the highly secret Sistine Chapel – as well as Michelangelo’s strained relationships with most of the clergy who attempted to commission him. And of course, the Sistine Chapel was more incredible than can be imagined. Depicting the scenes of Genesis, which Michelangelo decided to paint but wasn’t supposed to, Michelangelo took years and years to paint, modeling his characters after an amalgamation of Greek and Roman art, the arm of this statue mixed with the torso of that one and the face of that bishop that he liked. On the mural behind the altar, “The Last Judgment”, this is exactly what Michelangelo did when depicting Jesus. Unfortunately, you can't take photos inside the Sistine Chapel, but definitely Google it.

Fun fact: Pope Sixtius IV who commissioned the Sistine Chapel wound up with his face on the devilish character Minos, complete with donkey ears, who is painted directly above the door of the chapel, where all the cardinals and bishops would enter and leave the church, because he insulted Michelangelo. Other fun facts: it’s believed that Michelangelo suffered from Asperger’s Syndrome, explaining his obsessive compulsive forays in art and science, as well as his difficulty in dealing with people and social situations. Other fun fact: there’s a good chance Da Vinci had ADD/ADHD, based on his scatter-brained journal entries and numerous unfinished projects, including drawings, paintings, sculptures, inventions, etc.

We finished the tour at the Sistine Chapel and after asking Ian’s advice about where to go in town, he gave a few suggestions and his number in case we (now our group of three and two Irish girls) wanted to meet up later. We took a quick tour of the actual cathedral, but weren't allowed into Pope John Paul II's tomb, since it was already closed, but the vast, beautifully decorated church was enough to look at.

We grabbed pizza with the Irish girls and went back to get ready before heading straight back into town for aperitivo, which means you buy a drink and you can get all the appetizer-like finger food you want. We sat for a few drinks until Ian met us, then headed to a club a few blocks over in the heart of Rome. Downside: cover charge, upside: free drinks once you’re in. We were having a great time, and I dragged Roz and Caitlin away to dance to Party Rock and Sexy and I Know It in between getting drinks at the bar, but that’s when things went downhill a smidge. Irish Girl #1 starts puking on the side of the dance floor, and Roz, Caitlin and I are forced to take care of her since according to her friend, “oh no, she’s fine.”

Taking care of drunk friends, even puking friends, isn’t so bad, because you love them plus you know if you were ever in that situation, then someone has your back. Not the case when it’s more or less a lightweight stranger who is yelling at you about her purse and how she doesn’t want to stand up. We managed to get her outside and hail a cab for her, but not without being harassed/helped by a few guys who were carrying on in Italian that we didn’t understand, bumping into us and fumbling trying to get this girl into a cab.

We get back into the club, flustered and aggravated but glad to be free when Irish Girl #2 comes back, asking about the other girl’s purse. No one has it. We start searching the bathroom and every nook and cranny to see if someone’s at least taken the money and ditched the purse. To check in dark places, I reach in my purse for my camera to light up these dark areas, and realize that the flap is open and, what do you know, my camera is gone. There’s no doubt in my mind it was the guys “helping” us get the girl in the cab. What’s worse, I’d purposely put my money in my back pocket and had kept my camera on my wrist since I knew my purse only had a clasp, because we’d been warned multiple times about pick-pockets in the city. The only time my camera was in my purse was when both hands were occupied, supporting this belligerently drunk girl get home. It’s over a month later and I’m still unbelievably bitter. Needless to say, the pictures I’ve been using for these posts have come from Roz and Caitlin, and I can’t thank you guys enough for your photos!

After a lengthy search for the purse, the girls left and we took off too, since the club was closing at this point. I was livid and couldn’t have cared less about the purse or the girls at that point, but I tried to tell myself that it was over and nothing could be done. Roz and Caitlin were champs at consoling me and joining in the string of insults aimed toward the girls, and Ian even chimed in a bit. After hanging around on the street, he asked if we’d seen everything we wanted to in Rome, which we definitely hadn’t. With that, we set off for the Trevi Fountain around maybe 4am. We arrived and were, unsurprisingly, the only people wandering around the famous monument. Ian briefed us on the statues and sculptures around the fountain, and we all appreciated the history and how special it was to see such a sight in such a calm and peaceful atmosphere. It was unreal and so beautiful. We wandered around the fountain and entertained maybe trying to take a dip before a police car pulled up, clearly keeping tabs on us.

Soon enough, people began walking around, clearly on their way to work and we realized the sun would be coming up soon. Ian asked if we’d like to watch it rise, because he knew a spot, but that we’d have to hurry. That was all we needed to hear before we let him lead the way, jogging after him the whole way. It probably took ten or fifteen minutes jogging the whole way around the city, but luckily there was very little traffic. I came up behind Ian and he directed me up the steps and around the side of a building, and the stairs about did me in after my first extended jog in a month. We all reconvened at the top of the steps, desperate trying to catch our breath in the rapidly approaching dawn.

Off in the distance, we could see the Colosseum with the Forum splayed out almost directly in front of us. The sky just over the Colosseum began to lighten up, casting a brilliant pink light into the sky, bouncing yellow and orange off the clouds. The sky grew lighter and lighter over the next few minutes, and we stood and watched the sun slowly peek out from behind the great monument, still trying to catch our breath and force ourselves to believe that it was real life.

Once the sun was up, we made our way to the same metro station we’d been at that morning and parted ways with Ian, the greatest, coolest tour guide I will probably ever encounter. We all headed back to the hostel, knowing we had to check out of the hostel and start our drive to Milan through Pisa in just a few hours, but figured that a little sleep would be a good idea. A few short hours later, we piled into the car with our luggage, and I pulled us back onto the road. Between Rome and Pisa, we drove through the Italian countryside that looked like what I’d always imagined it to look like: sprawling, green fields, speckled with olive trees and little clusters of houses made of some kind of tan stone. It was a surprisingly mild drive and we didn’t even get lost! We arrived in Pisa and stopped for gelato before making our way to the tower for plenty of photos.

The drive to Milan was another story. Long story less long, we took a few wrong turns getting into the city and had an awful time finding the Zebra Hostel that wasn’t marked with any kind of sign. After driving around the city limits for an hour, we found the place but had to spend another hour to find parking. I offer my sincerest thanks to Roz and Caitlin for their unyielding help and patience with me during this drive. I couldn’t have hoped for better tempered, more cooperative, capable navigators. You two are the best. Seriously. Though we hadn’t eaten since midday and we didn’t set foot in the hostel until after midnight, I passed on the meal they were setting out to find and was asleep seconds after my head hit the pillow.

Unfortunately, we had to return the car first thing in the morning, so we were up at 7am and were able to return the car without hassle before finding public transport back to the hostel where we crashed again until 1pm when we finally roused ourselves out of bed. Pizza as first on our list of to-dos was the Napoli pizza place we’d passed on the way back, and I’m glad we did. We had more incredible bruschetta in addition to the best pizza I’ve ever had. We sipped a beer with our meal, and had a few waiters checking on us through our meal, only one of whom spoke a little English. The ordering process had been a lot of pointing and gesturing.

When we finished, a few of the waiters came back and after trying to communicate unsuccessfully, came back with the English-speaking server. Then, they invited us to come back to the restaurant when they closed to go out with them. We accepted. We spent the rest of the afternoon exploring the city and saw the Duomo, the large cathedral in the center of town. Since it was our last day in the city, we also had more gelato, which may have been the best gelato I’d had all week, which was saying something.

We wandered around the shops for a while, and found an impressive makeup store, where we spent the rest of our evening until we headed back to the hostel to get ready. Caitlin has a friend who’s working as an au pair in the city, so we met her for a bruschetta dinner and some really good beer. As midnight drew closer, we made our way back to the hostel and the restaurant to meet the guys who took us to a bar near the restaurant before heading to a club where we danced. I became unbelievably excited when No Parlo Italiano came on, and had a great time dancing. Since we had to leave the hostel for the airport at 4:30am, we stayed out until close to then, popping back over to the hostel to collect our bags and change before checking out.

We made it onto the plane in plenty of time, and I was asleep before the plane took off, waking up only when it landed back in Marseille. Once back in Aix, I crashed until the early afternoon, recovering from one of the most hectic, culturally enriching, fun, and spontaneous weeks of my life in a country I’ve come to love. Had it not been for my camera, I would say that the trip was absolutely and completely without reason to complain, but even with that significant setback, it was an incredible vacation. Plus, now I speak just a little Italian, or at least to know how to say, “No parlo italiano.”

In the last month, a lot has happened, and I hope to get those posts wrapped up this weekend, outlining all the highlights and traveling including: visiting Matt and Graham in Toulouse, midterms (ew), Jenn and Brooke's visit from Cincinnati and our trips to Madrid and Paris, more schoolwork, Easter in Croatia, and moving my plane ticket home to May 29. Plans are in the works for the study recess in the UK, as well as a long weekend in Amsterdam and Brussels. Like I said, lots has been happening, but I'm hoping for some free-time after my presentation on Thursday. I'll be honest, I've been obsessed with finishing "The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo" series, so I've been less than useless since it's had its hold over me. Sorry for anyone that has put up with my lack of attention span over the last few weeks! Anywho, I hope you all had a lovely Easter, and I love and miss you all heaps!

Here and there,
Kiley

No parlo italiano: Part due of our adventures in Italia

So we’d just gotten to Palermo, right? Even though we’d had a light breakfast in Trapani, we were starved and so keen to eat some real Italian food, so we staked out a nice little pasta place right away. We checked into Casa di Amici, then walked around the corner to the restaurant the woman recommended and OH. MY. GOD. We shared a bottle of the red house wine again and started with bruschetta (pronounced bru-sketta!) as an appetizer and the freshness of the spiced tomatoes and the crispness of the bread and olive oil were the perfect blend of I don’t even know what. It was the freshest tasting bruschetta I’ve ever had, with just a hint of salt. I didn’t think there was any way the pasta would compare, but I was pleasantly surprised. I had a type of flat noodle with red sauce and bits of what I think was sausage, but may have actually been beef. Seeing as we don’t speak Italian, we started off doing a lot of ordering based on the few words that looked familiar and hoping for the best. And I wasn’t disappointed in Palermo, that’s for sure. We shared bites of each other’s dishes, and I think it’s fair to say we were all incredibly jealous of what the others had, but also equal parts glad to have ordered what we did.

Once we cleaned our plates, we rolled ourselves to the counter to pay – we never really did figure out if you were meant to go up and pay or leave it at the table for the server to collect. Whoops! Still, we were surprised at this first restaurant to have a service charge of a few Euros each. We made sure from then on to look at the menu beforehand, but most everywhere had some kind of charge for eating in. It took us aback a bit, but it didn’t end up being an issue, just a minor annoyance for incredible food. We carried ourselves back to our B&B and decided it was time for a much deserved nap to appreciate the day’s worth of food we’d just consumed in one sitting.

We woke up an hour or so later, got ready for the night, and went back out to find drinks and gelato for the night. Since it was still before dinner-time, we licked at our gelato while exploring a bit and just bought our own bottles and took it back to the common kitchen area and balcony. There we enjoyed a few drinks on the terrace, appreciating the fresh, Italian night air. Before we realized it, a few hours had passed and we began to get hungry again, so we set out back into town to continue exploring and find food. A number of vendors were still out in the street, their tables set up to display the array of bracelets, rings, coin purses, scarves, and whatever sort of knickknacks they had to offer tourists with money burning holes in their pockets, i.e. us.

We walked away a few Euros lighter for our purchases and wandered down the main bar street and found an appealing late night beer-and-kebab offer that just happened to be showing a soccer game as well. It may have been the combined atmosphere and excitement, full of soccer, alcohol, and promise for an unbelievable trip, but I think it was the best kebab I’ve ever eaten. Perfectly spiced, fresh lettuce and tomatoes, on a pita-esque type of flatbread. We took our time wandering back to our room where we continued to listen to music and chat, having fully enjoyed our night out.

We rose the next morning and donned our swimsuits, the plan of the day to go to the beach and brave the chilly temperature for the sun that was brilliantly shining. Once we found the bus, again with the help of kind strangers, it was a thirty-minute ride to the coast where the beach was splayed out in front of the mountains on either side, rows of little cafes and gelato lining the street opposite the beach. How pretty!

We ordered Stromboli/pizza-roll things from a little shop and walked along the beach a ways, and I was so relieved to have my feet back in the sand. Of all the things I miss about Australia, the proximity to the beach is close to the top of the list, just behind everyone I met there. After walking a bit, we found a place to sit and enjoy what was again a delicious, cheesy masterpiece.

Unfortunately, it ended up being a sandy, delicious, cheesy masterpiece, because the wind was blowing something fierce. To the point where I was worried I might actually have scrapes or burns from the sand whipping me in the face. Luckily my sunglasses protected my eyes and the long sleeves and pants I’d worn protected most of me while allowing me to watch the water and pretend I wasn’t being stung repeatedly. We walked along the beach a bit more once we’d finished eating before we gave in and called it quits with the swimsuits and appreciated the beach from inside. We had coffee in one of the small cafes and soaked in the gorgeous view laid out in front of us before making our way back to the bus stop to go back into town.

The afternoon turned out to be one full of learning lessons the hard way, starting with a valuable travel lesson on the way back from the beach. We had all nodded off during the thirty minute bus ride, and we were woken up by some of the public transport security/police officers. Eventually, the girl next to me was able to translate, and we were told that since we didn’t buy a transport ticket, we would have to pay a 53 Euro fine. I was skeptical, but since they were wearing jackets and hats with the public transportation logo and had official-looking, ticket pads of paper, it seemed legit. As soon as the guards were out of earshot, the girl next to me suggested that we just make a run for it when the doors opened (not the only time running from the public transport police was suggested that week, as it turned out), but they already had one of our passports, and we figured we shouldn’t take off without it. Instead, we stayed and ended up handing over the 53 Euros. Wah. I’ve since been advised to insist on paying the ticket at the office in order to ensure that the authorities are legitimate, but also because they’ll often drop the charge if you do. Lesson one: learned.

We spent the next few hours in the hostel lobby soaking up what bit of internet we could before making our way to the harbor where we would catch our ferry that night. On the way, we looked for somewhere to have dinner, a bit before 6:00, and lesson number two was there to meet us. No one, and I mean no one, eats or serves dinner or anything resembling a substantial meal before about 8:00. We found a few pastry or sandwich shops, but nothing was open and serving dinner. Literally forty minutes and eight failed attempts later, we stumbled upon a deli/gelato/bar/restaurant that was actually open for dinner. Success! Or so we thought. We started with another bottle of red wine that did not disappoint, followed by another incredible bruschetta. I’ve never been much of a fan of the stuff, but Italy knows how it’s done! Shocking, right? Unfortunately, the incredible food stopped there. Roz and I had ordered the same spaghetti dish, having only recognized the word “spaghetti” with what we inferred was red sauce and then assumed came with a kind of meat, and we had been hoping meatballs. Caitlin had figured out that her pasta came with a white cream sauce, but we weren’t able to figure out what kind of meat she had either. Turns out we all ordered seafood. Caitlin’s crawly things were still looking at her, and Roz’s and my best guess as to what we were eating was sea urchin. EW. Thus lesson three was served: don’t order something if you don’t know what it is. We’d lucked out previously, but this set a new standard for the trip. We wrapped up the food to appear less rude and ordered gelato, but the damage had been done.

We traipsed disappointed to the port where we saw a cruise ship-type boat in the harbor before checking in, where we found out that that was the boat we’d be taking! Once aboard, we explored the few bars, seemingly endless staircases, movie theater, game room, lounge/library/cards room, and the seating room where we had booked seats. Instead of going straight to bed, we played cards and chatted in the lounge and played cards before finally acknowledging how tired we were. Though the chairs weren’t super comfy and it ended up being fairly cold, we slept a bit before pulling into the harbor in Naples, or Napoli as the italianos say. I was the first to wake up, so I stood watching the sunrise over the city and Mount Vesuvius – I only just now figured this out as I’m writing, courtesy of Google maps, so I’m feeling excited about it all over again! What an incredible sight to see.

We arrived in Napoli almost rested and stopped right on the harbor for a quick chocolate pastry and coffee before trying to find a map or shuttle or something to do before picking up our car at noon. We had a fairly lazy morning and afternoon wandering the city (and finding most places to be closed!) until we decided to look for lunch before getting to the airport for our car. Unfortunately, lesson number four turned out to be: no one opens for lunch until noon. One woman – who also operated a hostel and even spoke English – let us sit down at her restaurant and have a drink with snacks while we waited for the taxi she was kind enough to call us to get to the airport. Though we were only in Napoli for a short time, the people were so hospitable and kind, and the architecture proved to be incredible, from the ancient ruin-esque looking castle to the fancy and more modern though still very old looking town square.

At the airport, we picked up the car we hired – a Fiat Panda for you car enthusiasts like my dear father – and made our way onto the road. Since I was the only one in our group who could drive a stick, I took on driving responsibilities for the trip, and Roz and Caitlin gratefully performed the ever important and demanding task of navigating. I was a bit nervous about driving period, and the Italian drivers did nothing to assuage my fears with their lack of turn signals, quick stops and starts, and endless line of Vespas zipping around everywhere, but we made it to the highway without any real issues. Luckily, highway driving proved easier to manage than the city.

The drive between Napoli and Roma proved to be an interesting one. About an hour into the two hour drive, we start coming up on an armored police vehicle, and I slow my speed a bit, unsure of who has the power to pull you over in Italy. As we pass the “polizia” from the middle lane, Roz gets a big grin from the driver in the car, and they proceed to pull behind us. With three American speeding tickets and a number of accidents to my name, fear was my first reaction, and I immediately made the conscious effort to hold my speed at 110km/hr (don’t let the 110 freak you out, it’s still under 70mph!). The car continued to the left lane and passed us, and I received a cheesy grin and wave of my own from the officer in the passenger’s seat. Next, they passed in front of me and back into the right-hand lane. Still with my speed consistent, they allowed us to pass them and they started their loop again! This happened four times before they motioned me to put my window down, at which point they mimed drinking coffee and we agreed to follow them to the next rest stop/exit to have coffee. I couldn’t make this stuff up if I tried.

Twenty minutes later, we pulled off the toll road to the rest stop where the police officers got out and all but helped us out of the car. It was at this point we learned that none of them spoke English, and we already knew we didn’t speak Italian. Our saving grace was the one officer who spoke some French! Through him we learned who was the boss of the three officers, what part of Italy they were from, that they worked in Rome, they did not in fact have a prisoner in the back of the car, but oh by the way, they had in fact just taken one to a mental institution in Napoli. Just a regular day’s work, you know, driving around mental prisoners and picking up girls on the highway for coffee. We told them about our studies in France and our plan for Italy, and before we knew it, everyone had finished their coffee. The officers walked us back to our cars, kissed us on both cheeks in the proper European fashion, and we parted ways. Oh, Italian men!

Needless to say, the remainder of the drive was reasonably calm, comparatively speaking. We checked into our hostel, the Peter Pan Hostel, a thirty minute bus/metro ride outside of the city and lovely as can be. The single man at the front desk was incredibly helpful and quirky, marking the map of the city for us and telling us all the best places to eat and shop. Since it was already late, we decided to have dinner around the corner where we asked questions and made sure we knew what we were ordering and had a wonderful meal of calamari, bread, wine, and pasta. We made our way back to the hostel and gladly gave into our food coma, ready to rest before our only full day of exploring Rome.

I’m posting this now, just to have something to post before getting into the last half of our adventures, but I’m still writing! So expect the end of Italian adventures, my weekend trip to Toulouse, and my girlfriends’ visit to me coming up shortly. Thanks for bearing with me as the weeks stretch between posts once again, though I hope they find you in a good place. Love and miss you all, and I can’t wait to tell you more about what’s been happening here!

Here and there,
Kiley

No parlo italiano: Part uno of our adventures in Italia

So much has happened in the last week, it’s ridiculous, so I’ll try and hit all the good bits and include as much info and pictures as possible! It’s been about two weeks since I last posted, so I’ll pick up where I left off, going into the start of last week.

I mostly stuck to my plan of buckling down and getting things done to prepare for winter break, our one week off of classes before midterms. On Monday, my host family had to cancel our dinner, so I stayed in and Alison, one of the girls from the program, came over to cook dinner with Carly, and they were kind enough to let me crash it. Alison had a recipe for pasta with this creamy avocado sauce, which was absolutely delicious! I need to look up some stove top recipes to cook here, so if anyone has any good ones that don’t require an oven, please send them my way!

Also some time that week, Carly and I noticed a musty, moldy kind of smell when we used the microwave. We checked the food we’d just taken out and since that all seemed fine, we didn’t think anything of it. Until the next day when we realized the smell was coming from the actual microwave. We took off the glass plate, and I nearly spewed right there. White, green, and blue fuzzy mold covered the underside of the rotating plate. EW is an understatement. It took about an hour, but through the power of Google, we were able to figure out and execute the cleaning of said infected microwave (pour water in with soap, bleach, or a number of other cleaners, microwave for a minute, dump the water, repeat). After I started dry-heaving when we dumped it the first time and the mold slithered out, Carly took over that job on her own. Moral of the story: don’t EVER leave any moisture in the microwave, no matter what, and make sure you clean it meticulously. From now on, you will never find a microwave cleaner than ours in all of Provence.

Anyway, I was doing well and being productive school- and chore-wise. With laundry done and letters and birthday presents in the mail, I was feeling pretty on top of the world by Wednesday afternoon when things took a downward turn. I went to bed early since I was feeling under the weather, then woke up on Thursday with a raging sinus/head cold, feeling weak as can be. I don’t usually stay home sick or even acknowledge the fact that I don’t feel well, but I was incapacitated on Thursday. I slept through my first class, hoping that I would wake up feeling better, but I definitely did not. Instead, I moved from my bed to the couch for a few more hours of sleep and movies before I made it into the shower and out to buy orange juice and flu meds. After that, Roz came over to get our last plans in line, then I went back to bed and skipped my evening class, too. With leaving for vacation the next day and being too stubborn to confront foreign health care, I was praying I’d just start feeling better after my day of rest.

Luckily, when I woke up Friday morning, I did feel loads better, which was good because I didn’t have the choice to skip class – it was time for our midterm for methodology. I went into class armed with tissues and doped up on the French equivalent of Theraflu (which isn’t so effective, actually…it may be my vocabulary, but I haven’t found meds in France that are as good as the ones in the US – hopefully I’ll be healthy the rest of the time here and won’t find out, though). The exam is a bit of a blur, but nothing I can do about that now, so I’m trying not to worry until the exams are handed back to us. That may be this week, or in three weeks, since none of us are quite sure how the French system operates!

By 1pm, Roz, Caitlin, and I were waiting for the bus to the Aix TGV station to go to Paris. Unfortunately, by 1:30, we were still waiting for this bus. Once the bus came, we ended up stuck in traffic, took a different exit, got turned around, and were sitting in front of the train station where the bus driver wouldn’t open the doors. This decision was met with yells from the back of the bus: “Ouvrez la porte!” (open the door) was heard repeatedly along with other French obscenities, but my favorite was “Je sortirai par la fenêtre!” (I’m going to jump out the window!). Why we were being held, I don’t know, but we were eventually let off the bus, and we ran to catch the train, which we made just in time. During the ride, I realized it was the first time I’d taken the trip in daylight, and the French countryside did not disappoint! We saw plenty of small villages tucked into the hills on the west, and the ruins of what may have been castles or towers or maybe military structures – I really don’t know – sprinkled the foothills of the mountains to the east. Roz and I chatted the whole way up to Paris with high hopes for the week ahead of us.

Once in Paris, Caitlin went to find her French friend who she was staying the night with, and Roz and I went to meet her friend, Alex, who was kind enough to put us up for the night. We went straight to dinner with him, a few of his friends, his dad Tim, and a friend of his dad’s. I don’t remember the name of the restaurant, but I had one of the best burgers ever! (I wish I’d been journaling all week, because now that I’m sitting down to write about this, I’m having quite a bit of trouble remembering it all.) It was this incredible little place on the corner in the gay district in Paris, and the food was amazing, just like the service – our waiter is a friend of Tim’s and talked to us about his break dancing while showing us his “fresh” dance moves! Afterward, we went down the street to a club called Sept Étages (I think that was the name…) where we had a drink and talked before going next door to a really cool place called Yono. It’s a gay bar owned by this incredibly fun couple that can make the best Long Island iced tea I’ve ever had. The next time I go out in Paris, I would love to go back, because all the staff was friendly, the drinks were great, and the atmosphere and music were fun and welcoming, too.

Roz and I got talking to a few guys that sat down at our table, and it was nice to speak French in a social, non-academic setting. We probably spent a good solid thirty minutes talking with them until the group decided it was time to leave. At that point, we went followed every outside, and the guys followed us – which was when we saw that they had motorized scooters! And they let us ride them up and down the street. It was AWESOME. I believe the two guys we’d been talking to worked for the scooter company and were promoting the scooters, but we got to try one out, so I was a very happy camper. The last stop of the night was this snazzy little bistro/diner-type place where I had my first Croque monsieur, basically an open-faced grilled cheese with ham under the cheese. Delicious! And this was only the first night of encounters with incredible food.

Roz and I crashed at Alex’s and ended up sleeping in a bit later than we had planned. Our morning then consisted of brunch at another bistro kind of restaurant where I had an incredible chicken sandwich. It sounds simple, but the chucks of chicken, Dijon mustard, and fresh veggies on the sandwich, along with the fries, were a magical combination. After eating, we went straight to the Arc de Triomphe where we went up to the top to appreciate the view of all of Paris. The weather was much, much better than the last time I was in Paris with Ole, Leelou, and Max (thank goodness!), but it was still a bit cloudy and foggy. Even still, we could look out and see Montmartre, the highest point in Paris, and the Eiffel Tower. Sometimes the top of the Eiffel Tower was blurred by the clouds, and it looked kind of creepy and cool as the clouds passed over it. We had to part with Alex, his friends, and Tim when we came down from the tower to catch our flight, but I can’t tell them thanks enough for putting us up and for taking us to so many cool places in such a short amount of time! I’m so appreciative of everything!

Roz, Caitlin, and I caught the métro to the bus to the airport and thus the second leg of our epic journey began! We touched down in Trapani, Sicily around 10pm, and it was one of the roughest landings I’ve ever experienced. Good grief. Since we flew Ryan air, the tickets were really, really cheap. The tradeoff? There are no free snacks or drinks, you’re only allowed a single carry-on bag, the landing frankly scared the crap out of me, and I’ve heard from friends that they’ve been on planes with duck-taped windows. The baggage proved to be difficult for me to handle, but I managed to get a week’s worth of clothes and toiletries into my LLBean backpack and keep it under 10kilos. Whew. The plane we got on seemed to be in pretty good shape, and the seats were rather comfortable even. Still, that landing was frightening. But not so frightening that I’ll cough up the extra hundred+ Euros to fly a different airline. Oh the priorities of a traveling college student.

We took a taxi from the airport to Paceco where we were actually staying, and we got our first taste of Italian driving. Again, good grief! It felt like we were in a racecar with how fast he drove, and there were little Vespas zipping around us. He paused where there were stop signs, just enough to make sure there was no one coming up the cross streets. We did make it to the bed and breakfast, the Aldebaran, in one piece, and we were pleasantly surprised to find a very nice room for three! There were sweet, fruity biscuits left for us on the desk, and the guy at the counter told us how to get into town to find food.

So, we ventured into the town square where nearly everything was closed up, even though it was a Saturday night. We ended up finding a small pizzeria where we all ordered our own pizza and of course traded pieces with each other. I’ll never look at pizza the same way. My salmon, tomato, and multiple cheese pizza was SO good. We don’t speak any Italian, and the waiter didn’t speak English, but we were able to communicate that we wanted a red wine too, so he brought the house wine, which was also incredible, though I couldn’t tell you what kind it was. The cheese was perfectly melty, the ingredients – especially the tomatoes – were fresh and crisp, and the bread was fluffy but crunchy and delicious. I mean, wow. Prepare for some more raving and drooling over the food.

We went home to the Aldebaran full and completely happy with the first night of the Sicilian beginning of our vacation. On Sunday morning, we got directions to the bus stop, though between our lack of Italian and the man’s lack of English at the desk of the B&B, it was difficult to understand where to go, though he was incredibly kind and eager to help. We eventually got to the square, which was also just beautiful, right there in the middle of this small, quiet town. We'd gone through it the night before, but without proper lighting, it was hard to appreciate it.

Unfortunately, the bus stop we found didn’t seem to go to Palermo like we wanted. We approached a few older men walking through the square and were discouraged when we first realized they didn’t speak any English whatsoever, but they were so unbelievably helpful. They walked with us to the bus stop and explained to the other man waiting there where we wanted to go. Through basically gestures and sign language, they let us know that we had to go to Trapani to catch a bus to Palermo and that it would arrive in forty minutes. We sat waiting with the other man who didn’t speak English either, and when the bus came, the group of older men came back to speak to the bus driver to make sure that we would get where we were going. How nice and kind to go out of your way to help traveling strangers!

We arrived in Trapani around midday, and the bus driver directed us to the bus stop to Palermo. We waited again before eventually boarding and making it into Palermo a few hours later. During the ride, however, we were treated to some of the prettiest countryside and mountains I've ever seen. While some of the terrain we saw could have been fields in Indiana or Ohio, the mountains in the background and the tidy long rows of what we assumed to be olive trees in some of the fields couldn't have been more different!

It wasn't until we pulled into Palermo city proper that we realized we had no idea which stop we wanted, nor where in the world our B&B would be from where we got off the bus. Roz was the trooper and made her way up to the bus driver (who didn’t speak English either) and found a wonderful Italian woman who not only told us which stop to take, but got off the bus with us and walked us a good half-mile toward our destination. The genuine kindness of people truly amazes me at times.

Thank you, Italy, for renewing my faith in the human race. Not that I'd been particularly doubting it, but it’s always nice to be reassured. After being in France where we’re told to be cautious about making eye contact (because it makes people uncomfortable and makes us potential targets, since we’re American), it was so refreshing to be in such an openly friendly country where people are eager to help, regardless of whether you speak any of the language at all. It’s not that French people are unfriendly (as a lot of stereotypes may lead you to believe), but the culture does seem to be less inviting and less open to strangers in the community, as far as I can tell. The few times that I’ve managed to break the initial barrier and get talking to someone in France, they’ve been just as friendly and welcoming as anyone we met in Italy, that I met in Australia, or you might meet in the US, it’s just that first chance to talk to someone that is a little harder to come by in France.

I’ll leave my story here in Palermo, on Day Three of our Italian adventure, since this is getting to be rather lengthy and because I have a midterm on Thursday to study for! I know, who can think about midterms when there are beaches, Italian police officer interactions, sunrises over mountains and monuments, and more to tell about from the rest of the week? I allowed myself the night to catch up on letters back to Abby, BRoy, and Kathleen, and this post, but tomorrow is all business. Thursday brings my first lit. midterm, as well as my Expression Orale midterm-recitation, but I’ll do my best to catch up on the rest of the break after that! Then of course, I’ll be in Toulouse this coming weekend visiting a friend from high school, I have two more midterms Monday and Tuesday, and then Jenn and Brooke will be arriving Thursday, but somewhere in there, I’ll get cracking on the rest of winter break. Thanks in advance for bearing with me, and I hope this finds you all as happily busy as I am! Love and miss you all, wherever you may be!

Here and there,
Kiley