I’m On Top of the World

It’s all over now. I’ve been in America for 24 hours. I’ve been reintroduced to paved roads, delivery sushi, and 3G data. It’s too strange to remember leaving in the middle of beautiful September and being back now with less than a week until Christmas and mushy snow slush everywhere. It’s gross and if nothing else I already miss Rome for the weather.

My flight to London was just like any other. Landing was the best part and the fact that there was a Pret in the airport put me on cloud nine. I ordered “un caffè americano” by mistake, and when the guy at the counter laughed at me I remembered how nice it was that everyone spoke English again. The second flight was long. Far too long.

So here’s the thing: I don’t do airplane food. I like to know when food expires, what the ingredients are, and how long it has been sitting in one place. Airplane food tells you none of that. It’s scary food wrapped in the same scary plastic they use to wrap the pillows and blankets on the plane, and it’s usually something that DOES NOT look like it could be served on a plane. Food that is logical for a plane to serve: bagels, for example. Serving weird rice with vegetables that look a diseased color should not be a thing. So I don’t ever let them give me the airplane food on flights. But in addition to my disgust for it on the way back to America, they served “vegetable pasta and mushroom pizza”.

1) Are you trying to mock the fact that I just left Italy?
2) I eat genuine Italian food only now. And this is the lowest it can get.
3) WHY. What an awful food to store on a plane for 8 and a half hours. No.
4) Who even likes mushrooms enough to want mushroom pizza?

But I made it to Chicago. I was starving, but I made it to Chicago. My wonderful parents greeted me with open arms and bags of peanut butter M&M’s (all a girl can really ask for) and had the sushi menu in the car waiting for me. Parents of the year.

It’s sad thinking I won’t be back to Rome after the holidays. I do appreciate all the time I did get to spend there and in the places I visited though. I’ve learned how to manage time, how to prioritize, how to budget, how to be logical, and how to beat the system. I’ve been trapped in stations, on the wrong metro, in scary parts of cities, and illegally on trains with illegitimate tickets. I’ve been eating macrons in front of the Eiffel Tower, expanding my stomach to new capacities in Thessaloniki, lying down sardine style in row boats in Capri, and on gondola rides in Venice. There have been ultimate highs and ultimate lows, but from each experience I’ve gained knowledge I don’t know I would have ever gained in South Bend.

It’s been a semester of funny falls and laughing until we puke, misguidance and wrong directions, white wine and dark beer. I’m going to miss every part of every day. Traveling has become such a dominate part of my life that I can’t see myself giving up, and it’s exciting to feel like my adventures won’t stop just because the semester did.

Thank you Rome. Thank you Florence, Venice, Pompeii, Naples, Capri, Amalfi, Paestum, Monte Cassino, Verona, and Bologna. Thank you Thessaloniki, Greece, thank you Paris, France, thank you Barcelona, Spain. Thank you Budapest, Hungary and thank you Munich, Germany. These have been the best months of my life. I’m sure we’ll see each other again soon.

Ciao Roma.

If you tell me you haven’t seen this list coming since the first day, you’re lying. Here it is, my gelato list diary of the semester:

 

Chocolate

Dark Chocolate

Frigidarium

Ciambellone

Spagnola

Chocolate chip

Hazelnut

After eight

Mont blanc

Coffee

Caramel

Black berry

Melon

Lemon

Mango

Strawberry

Raspberry

Kitkat

Peanutbutter

Mars

Chocolate with strawberries

Champagne

Crema della Nonna

Pear

Duplo

Watermelon

Cream

Limoncello

Amalfisky

Sarcher

I’d like to thank everyone who helped me through this experience. Myself, and my stomach.

I’m officially packed. And it’s scary. I don’t think I fully understand that I won’t be returning to Rome after winter break or that I won’t be living in the Albergo anymore. It’s strange thinking about how I’ve been completely immersed in Italian culture the past semester, and how it’s going to be weird when I accidently greet restaurant waiters and professors with “Buon Giorno” when I’m back in the states. I don’t even fully remember how to talk to an adult that understands perfect English. This is going to take some getting used to.

I’m convinced I’m about to experience reverse culture shock. Shock of re-entering America. It’s going to suck when coins are essentially worthless again, prices for things aren’t perfectly rounded, I don’t constantly have amazing chocolate and pastries at my disposal, and I have to put on a parka, hat, gloves, and scarf before stepping a foot outside. Today I wore a sweater with a skit. And it was gorgeous and sunny out. This snow thing in the mid-west needs to be over by the time it’s Friday.

 

What I miss already:

• Cowcat. If it wasn’t for him, at this point in the semester I would have already bought a dog off the streets on impulse due to lack of animal/pet interaction.
• The staff at the Albergo del Sole and Pascuccis. I’ve never eaten at a café where workers are so concerned about whether I’m getting enough fruit or have enough sandwich options as a vegetarian, or lived somewhere where the owners are willing to print off my essay papers and google map directions at all times of the day. I’ve been blessed with some truly amazing people in my life this semester that I will never forget.
• My best gal pals. People say friendships form faster when you’re abroad due to the living arrangements and lack of Americans, but I’d like to believe that I would have found Katie, Megan, Gina, and Carole by fate anyways. I couldn’t put together a better travel group if I tried. We always say we’ll be the travel friends forever. Next stop, Jordan…
• The food. Reference every previous blog post. Honestly.
• Experiencing Rome with my two of my best friends. Many people get the opportunity to study abroad, but only a few get to do it with people that mean the most to them. Being here with Allie and Kristen was a freshmen year dream come true.
• Living in a city. It’s incredible to go on a casual after dinner walk to the Trevi.

 

I’m so grateful for everything I’ve experienced this semester. From Greece, to Spain, to France, to Germany, to Hungary, to Italy, I’ve gained more knowledge than I ever thought possible. The things I’ve seen and the places I’ve experienced can hardly be summed up in 2,000 pictures and a couple dozen blog posts. I’ve learned how to budget, how to navigate transportation, how to take appropriate risks, and how to figure out situations.

There will be another post of my reminiscing over experiences and lessons to come, but I’m determined to make this night as not sad as possible.

Next time you hear from me I’ll be on U.S. ground. Ciao everyone, and ciao Roma. Thanks for everything.

The next Rick Steves, coming atcha

Three. Days. How is this real? I can’t believe I’m coming back home to America before this week is over. I’ve grown, I’ve matured, but mostly, I’ve become an expert on Rome. And so I release to you this:

The Haley Bellis guide to Rome (As told by Haley Bellis)

You’re in Rome for a ten-day vacation? A twenty-four hour layover? A three-day business trip? It doesn’t matter. These are the must sees and must dos of Rome as told from a true expert (that’s what I’m claiming to be these days) in ten steps:

1. Eat a plate of Penne alla Vodka at Tony’s. Your taste buds haven’t lived until they’ve tried this. Consider it a new awakening. This dish alone will make you want to spit on each and every Olive Garden in America for doing Italian food so badly.
2. This one is for everyone who has just a little time in Rome. Even a layover. Go get yourself three cones of gelato. I know what you’re thinking, “Three cones of gelato? Is that necessary?” Yeah. It is. And here’s why. Different gelato places are better for different flavors. Your first cone will be from Old Bridge, and you need to figure out two flavors that are meant to be creamy. Think vanilla, hazelnut, coffee, caramel. Then you need to experience the fruit flavors via the best ultimate gelateria, Giolitti. I’m not saying get more e melone (blackberry and melon), but get more e melone. Finally, just when you’re thinking you’re full, loosen the belt because the last stop is Frigidarium. This is the best for flavors with parts (cannoli, cake with cookies, donut) and when they ask you “cream or chocolate on top?” don’t even let the sentence finish before you say “black chocolate” because black chocolate = nutella and there’s nothing more to say about that.
3. Skip the Spanish Steps and just go to the Vatican twice. Honestly. If you’re going to be harassed by splat-ball sellers, you might as well be looking at something worth it.
4. Invest in a water bottle early on. At the end of the day, you’ll appreciate spending 5 euro on a water bottle and not 28469472 euro on tap water in fancy jugs.
5. Just go straight to Tazza d’Oro. Don’t even try to find another source of caffeine. Why would you when I’m giving you the inside as to where to find the best?  Go ahead and order anything on the entire menu. They’re all the best.
6. Don’t leave home without a jar of peanut butter. One in one Americans confirmed (me) that peanut butter was number one item they packed for Rome. It won’t fit? Find a spot. They want you to pay overweight fees? It’s worth it. Don’t even think about it. Just pack it.
7. Eat a whole pizza. Specifically from Montecarlo. You can just stop there when you’re done with your gelato run. I recommend either the pizza marinara or the pizza con verdure. But be warned; you will never be satisfied with thin crust pizza from anywhere else for the rest of your life. Set the standards high.
8. Drink more wine. It doesn’t matter if you’ve had zero glasses today or ten; just have another. Why would you not? Wine is a part of the culture and if you aren’t drinking it then you’re doing Rome wrong. You’ll either pay 5 euro for a liter of water or 6 euro for a liter of wine. It just makes sense.
9. AVOID THE PIAZZA NAVONA CHRISTMAS MARKET AT ALL COSTS. If I wanted to play arcade games, I would have gone to the 4H fair before I left. Piazza Navona’s concept of a Christmas market is fried food and fair games. Scary.

10. When all other snacks fail, Nutella will always be there for you. Anything with Nutella is safe to eat. Bottom line.

And voilà! You are now ten steps ahead of any other Roman-first-timer stepping off the same airplane.

The absolute best part of living in Rome is living in Rome- the concept of it. It’s fun to wake up and casually see a basilica before class to kill some time, be asked for directions on the streets by other people because you just look comfortable and like you know where you’re going, and have restaurant preferences and recommendations without looking at TripAdvisor. It’s strange to think that in 3 days I’m going to leave a place I know the ins and outs of and I have no idea when I’ll be back. But finals are over and I’m back in vacation mode. Home stretch style.

Other things that are strange, my flight on Friday morning is about the same time I would leave to go on any other trip. It’ll be a typical morning, a typical ride to the airport, with my same friends, except we’ll have to lug around our massive suitcases and it won’t be as fun. I’m a little worried about my bag being over weight again. At least this time if I go over it won’t be for a jar of peanut butter. I’m never going to live that down. And I don’t want to. Ever.

There will more than likely be one more (okay maybe two) posts before I retire this bad boy. Just to wrap up all loose ends, give some final thoughts, and try to be funny a couple more times before people don’t need to be updated on my life adventures anymore. Blogging has really become a part of me. It’ll be a tough one to give up when I come home. Peace and love, and happy eight days until Christmas! This is the moment when you should pull up Destiny’s Child’s “8 days of Christmas”. Here, I’ll even help you out: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7tt6Ot_WEHI

One more week, one week more

And so here we are, cracking down on finals week, as if I’ve actually been here for three months. To keep the tough times lighter (aka me putting the “study” in “study abroad”) here are a couple things that have happened in Rome that I somehow missed while spending time in the library studying:

• http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2013/12/02/pope-francis-homeless_n_4373884.html
  Apparently, the Pope sneaks out at night dressed as a priest to help the homeless. While I’m definitely not homeless, I have 1) seen homeless people on the streets and 2) seen priests on the streets. So why haven’t I seen Pope Francis with the homeless people on the streets? I would rather see Pope Francis on the streets of Rome than any celebrity in the world. Okay, any celebrity in the world besides Miley Cyrus.
• http://www.reuters.com/article/2013/12/06/us-italy-elephant-idUSBRE9B50LU20131206
  And then there was the time an elephant was loose on the streets of Rome for two hours. And I missed it. In the words of my brother, “You mean you failed to notice an elephant walking around Rome…?” And the answer is yes, I did. I’m so disappointed in myself for this one. Like, selfies with the Mona Lisa were funny, but a selfie with an elephant on the streets of Rome? That would be worth framing.

I’m sure there are more, but those are two perfectly good reasons finals should not exist; I’m missing out on prime experiences.

With only one week left in Rome, I’m really starting to realize the bittersweet reality of going home. I’m going into home stretch mode, allowing myself to eat all the gelato and gnocchi I want in this last week (as if I wasn’t doing that all semester) and finish off my Rome to-do list that has been sitting on the side of my computer screen all semester.

1. Drink every type of coffee available at Tazza d’Oro. This is the greatest coffee place known to mankind. I’ve played it safe with cappuccinos all semester, but this is the week to branch out.

2. Make it back to Old Bridge for gelato. While Old Bridge is just across the river in Trastevere, a twenty minute walk, last time we ventured over for gelato there I tripped (face-planted the ground is more accurate) and completely almost broke my nose and lost all my teeth on the way home. It’s a sore subject. But I need to face my fears and channel my inner grace.

3. Climb St. Peter’s dome. You would think, living so close to the Vatican, that I visit on the daily but that is absolutely not true. After getting over the excitement of living in Rome, you start to avoid touristy places because you’re way too good for tourist traps, and the Vatican is the number two spot for splat-ball and fake sunglasses sales right after the Colosseum. But I’ll make it over there.

4. Give the Jewish Ghetto another shot after being ripped off that one time. Kidding. No. Never returning there.

5. See the Christmas trees lit up at night at the Vatican and at the Colosseum. See point number three to refresh yourself on my opinions of tourist traps. However I love love Christmas and Christmas trees and Christmas decorations so this is a must see. And a must photograph.

After I’m free of finals Tuesday at 4 in the afternoon, the crackdown of the list will begin. I’m pretty confident in my abilities. So back to the studying. Wish me luck on finals. Here’s to three more straight days in the library. Ciao!

The Final Countdown

Over the past thirteen weeks, CowCat and I have really been on a rollercoaster ride. It feels like just yesterday I was moving in to the Albergo and confused when he came to inconveniently sit in the suitcase for fifteen minutes. From wandering into Katie and my bathroom at unexpected times, to photo shoots on the terrace, to that time he ate a bird (let’s not talk about that one), I’ve really grown to love and appreciate CowCat. Which brings me to this: CowCat definitely doesn’t understand English. He’s a cat living in Italy, in an Italian hotel, where no one speaks English and everyone only speaks Italian. Why did I ever think he spoke English? I’ve literally been ranting at him for 13 weeks and he has understood none of it. It’s no wonder he never listens when I’m like “let me pick you up!” or “don’t climb on my bed!” or “stay out of the wardrobe!”. I just can’t believe it took me this long to figure that out. I feel so bad.

I stayed in Rome this past weekend for three more days of freedom before the papers and finals start getting real tomorrow. It was a little sad on Friday morning at 4:45 when I wasn’t getting up to head off somewhere cool, but Rome is cool too and I just forget that sometimes. So Friday morning I slept in until 9 (crazy, I know) and made my way over to the Vatican! I’ve been to the Vatican since arriving in Rome for mass and to see the Pope, but I had yet to tour the museum and see the Sistine Chapel, so I put it on my to do list for the weekend.

Things that were amazing about the Vatican:

• The fact that it was off-season. Literally, I didn’t have to wait in any line at all. It was fantastic. I just walked right in. I’m never going to be able to travel anywhere during tourist seasons ever again after these experiences.
• The fact that they were decorating for Christmas. There was a huge Christmas tree being put up when I got there and by the time I left they were just finishing putting the star on top. I love Christmas.
• The Sistine Chapel in general. I would just die if I had to paint an entire ceiling by myself for four years. How boring. But the outcome was clearly worth it. Go Michelangelo.

I spent literally the whole day there between touring the museum, walking through the inside, and just wandering around. It was way more relaxing than traveling outside of Rome but just has fun at the end of it all. For we were actually starving, so we played it safe and went over to Da Luigi’s for pasta that was guaranteed to be good. I got penne alla vodka, which was good but will never compare to the penne alla vodka at Tony’s. Speaking of Tony’s, it’s closed for the off-season, which is the reason for my lack of mentioning it in the last few posts. Is that not the saddest thing you’ve ever heard? I was devastated.

On Saturday Carole, Rachel and I got up early to get coffee and fruit salads for breakfast before we started another day of Roman touring. Out first stop was La Scala Santa. La Scala Santa is a set of stairs on which Pontius Pilate ruled on in Jerusalem, and the stairs Jesus made his way up and down during his trial. The stairs had been brought to Rome way back in the fourth century, which is why they aren’t in Jerusalem anymore. There are 28 steps, and it’s tradition that you climb them on your hands and knees, so that’s exactly what they did. Honestly, it was way harder than I thought it would be. No matter how it sounds, climbing stairs on your knees is no easy task. At about the 8^th step I remember thinking about how painful it was, but it serves as a necessary reminder that Jesus endured even more pain when he was crucified. It was definitely one of the most memorable things I’ve done in Rome.

After our time at La Scala Santa, we walked inside the Basilica di San Giovanni just to look around, then caught the bus to Eataly. Especially if you live in Chicago, you probably know what Eataly is. It’s like a massive food store on steroids. It’s an old train station, so very big and open, and there are four floors filled with all types of food from different regions of Italy. Also among the food are many restaurants as well, and on the top floor of the building they offer cooking classes. It’s an experience; you could spend the day at Eataly if you really wanted to. We spent the afternoon shopping around and sampling all the different foods; mostly pestos and olive oils. We stopped for a late lunch at La Pasta in Eataly for rigatoni alla pomodoro which was straight from heaven like most pastas in Italy are. It was fun to just be casually eating while people shop around behind you.

After returning from Eataly, we had much needed naptime before heading out once again to walk to the Trevi Fountain at night. It’s so much nicer and less crowded at night, so we were able to take our time hanging out there and shop around the street a little bit before heading back near the hotel to L’insalata Ricca for a quick dinner.

And those are this weekend’s highlights. Sunday was relatively uneventful. I had to work on a 10-page paper about the ruling and death of Julius Caesar, which is ironic because I typed it while on the ruins of the Theatre of Pompey where he was assassinated. Full circle. Time in Italy is really slipping away and I’m trying extra hard to get as much in as I can before I have to head back to the States.

Things I’m looking forward to most at home:

• Peanut butter M&M’s
• Peanut butter Reese Christmas trees
• Peanut butter cookies
• Peanut butter in general

Ciao for now, I’ll see you all in eleven days!

It’s beginning to look a lot like CHRISTMAS!

MERRY TWENTY THREE DAYS UNTIL CHRISTMAS EVERYONE! The count down is officially real now with Thanksgiving in the past. I’m super bummed I’m missing almost all of ABC Family’s 25 days of Christmas, but I definitely looked and will be back with enough time to catch all three of The Santa Claus movies and also The Year Without A Santa Claus so all is okay in the world. I’ve also asked my mother to begin hoarding the Reese’s shaped like Christmas trees that stores start selling after Thanksgiving, just to be safe. While all of you were happily around your tables for Thanksgiving on Thursday, I was off in Budapest! My last weekend (weekend plus two days?) trip for the semester. Definitely bittersweet.

My flight to Budapest was late on Wednesday night and I was feeling extra anxious to fly the cheap Wizz Air instead of our usual cheap Ryan Air. The flight had cost about 20 euro, sketchy, and the airplane was bright fuchsia, also sketchy. However, I can confidently state that Wizz flights are much more enjoyable than Ryan Air, even if they don’t have a “90% accurate arrival time” statistic. All in all a good experience. We landed in Budapest a little after midnight and made our way straight to the hostel to pass out.

The next day we got up relatively early to explore the town of Budapest before our 11 AM walking tour. Technically Buda and Pest are two separate town in Hungary, separated by a river, so we focused our morning in Pest. Starbucks was a crucial part of the morning, mostly because I had my first but definitely not last gingerbread latte of the season. It cost 1060 Hungarian Forints, so I can now confirm that I’ve had the most expensive sounding, but actually cheapest, Starbucks drink ever.  We took our drinks and walked around to the St. Stephen’s Basilica in the town. But this was no ordinary Basilica. After looking past the gold decoration, painted ceilings, and elaborate wall art, we saw something we’ve yet to see in any of the many Basilicas. The holy right hand. It’s exactly what it sounds like. The right hand of a saint that they keep in a box in the Basilica. I really don’t feel like I need to make any further commenting on this, just let it sit with you for a minute. It’s gross.

After the whole hand experience I was really in the need of a Christmas market, and luckily they were all open since Thanksgiving is nonexistent. We walked around looking at all the homemade items, from chess boards to wool socks. I had part of a cinnamon breaded log, which was amazingly wintery tasting, and cinnamon apple cider; both perfect for the super cold weather.

We met up with our tour guide, but only after Kristen and I had purchased matching ear warmers/hats, and started off our tour of Budapest. I won’t go into in depth detail, but highlights included: taking pictures with the random Ronald Regan statue on the sidewalk (Go America?), the view from the top of Castle Hill, and the amazing sunset over the river dividing the two towns (the sun sets in Budapest literally at like 3:45 in the afternoon). We were frozen head to toe, and made a last round around the Christmas market again before heading back to the hostel to warm up.

After a quick power nap and warming session we headed out for Thanksgiving dinner! Note the sarcasm. We stopped at a Hungarian style restaurant, which sounded fun until I looked at the menu and realized everything on the menu was some kind of scary meat, and everything that wasn’t a scary type of meat was drenched in grease. No thanks. Kristen, Neal and I dipped and got Thai food instead. The Thai food was both the best thing to happen to me because it was amazing and also the worst view into a future where I don’t get a job, own 11 cats, and have to order in cheap Thai food on holidays. Post Thanksgiving meal we went on a pub-crawl around Budapest, which was tons of fun. The bars all had very different feels and drinks were in the price ranger they should be for all college students in the world.

The next morning we made our way to the Christmas market round three, because walking around was just that enjoyable the day before. We then found our way to a huge indoor market that was literally two floors in what looked the size of a train station to get food for lunch and shop through for a few hours before grabbing our bags to check out of the hostel. I had tons of fruit, then to make up for being so healthy I got a piece of fried dough two times the size of my face that was drenched in Nutella and bananas. We had a lot of time still before our nine oclock train to Munich that night so we decided to hit up the Hungarian Baths. I will admit, I was very pessimistic about the whole ordeal at first. Nothing about a Hungarian Bath sounds remotely clean or healthy in my opinion, and I was convinced I wouldn’t do it. But of course I gave in to peer pressure and did once we were inside. The building was gorgeous and wrapped around like a palace with three huge baths that looked like massive pools in the middle. Each pool ranged in temperature, and once you had a bathing suit on you had to run outside into the 20 degree air to get into the hot baths, but it was amazingly worth it. Once we tried out all the outdoor pools, we went back into the building where there was a series of probably 14 more different baths of varying temperatures, purposes, and types. Everything from ice cold water to baths so hot you couldn’t be in for more than 15 minutes at a time, we tried them all. There were also many saunas in between the baths with different temperatures and additions as well, my favorite one being the one that was with mint.

After enough time in the baths that even my eyeballs were probably pruning, it was time to catch our overnight train to Munich. As I said in my last post, a trip is never a trip unless something goes wrong. My ticket for the train that was supposed to be mailed to me a week and a half ago never showed up at the hotel before I left, so I had no choice but to print out the ticket purchase confirmation and pray they let me on the train. After being told by two different station works that I would have to buy a new ticket or risk paying a fine on the train for boarding without a valid ticket, I decided the best thing to do would be to work the magic of sympathy and got on the train anyways. Five minutes into the ride a woman came through to check tickets. Bingo. I crossed my fingers that she was a mom. She approached my seat and as I handed over my confirmation I quickly explained that I never received my ticket in the mail despite ordering weeks in advance. She told me the ticket was invalid. This triggered the switch in my brain, and I was able to produce sympathetic tears straight from a movie in a matter of seconds. They were perfect; the only thing that would have made it better is if I had had a hair bow with me. After enough muttering about “not knowing what to do”, the woman went straight into mother mode as I expected, patted me on the back, and ensured me “oh honey, it’s okay”. As she brought the second ticket checker around to confirm my non-ticket, I also nonchalantly overwhelmed them with information, offering them: Certification of address from the hotel that says I live there, two forms of identification, ticket confirmation, ticket confirmation on my phone to show I had access to the email account, and credit card used for purchase. Needless to say, I stayed on the train without a fine and didn’t have to purchase another ticket.

We arrived in Munich bright and early on Saturday and got right to the touring, going to the Christmas market right in the center square. We were privledged enough to witness a round of the Glockenspiel Clock (number two most overrated tourist attraction in Europe) and browsed through kiosk after kiosk. We went on the best walking tour ever in the history of study abroad, and our tour guide was funny enough to keep me entertained through the numbness of the cold outside. I actually learned more about Munich than I ever thought I would in a day, most importantly about how the town was completely reconstructed after being almost entirely destroyed in World War 2 to look identical to how it was before the war, and that almost every major event that has ever taken place in Munich involved beer. One of the past kings of Germany actually at one point gave free beer to homeless people. Another king used kegs of beer unsuccessfully to put out a raging fire in the opera house in Munich once. The list goes on.

We made a trip to the second of three outdoor markets in Munich, and even though this one wasn’t Christmas themed it was still fun to walk around and get soft pretzels. We went to three popular pubs in Munich; Paulaner (where I had my favorite dark beer of the trip), Augustiner (where we had Edolstoff, which is the favorite beer of Pope Benedict the 16^th), and Hofbräuhaus (which had the best atmosphere and where we drank huge liter beers from mugs that weighed more than me). It was definitely a ton of fun. After that we went to the final market, which was absolutely huge on the grounds where they have Oktoberfest. We met up with Allie and Shannon there and it was the best thing ever to be reunited with the quad, walking around and eating more desserts.

Sunday was our last day of adventuring in Munich! We had done so much in the main center the day before, so we decided it would be important for us to make our way out to Dachau for the morning, where the first Nazi concentration camp was. Even though I knew it would be overwhelming and sad, I wanted to make sure I went before leaving Germany and Europe as a whole. No matter how powerful you think something like that will be, it will always be surprisingly harder. When we turned the corner down the road and saw the gate with the phrase “Arbeit macht frei” (meaning “Work will make you free”) in cold metal, I actually froze. It was a solid ten minutes before I could actually push my way through the gate to the eeriness of the concentration camp. It was both eye opening and heartbreaking at the same time.

In the afternoon we got a quick lunch at the train station before making our way home to Rome! I had sushi for the first time in ages and it was heaven on earth in every way. The first train ride was six hours to Verona, and the most fun ever. Four of us had a train compartment meant for six to ourselves, and we spent the time playing extreme charades and euchre until we reached the stop. Verona was absolutely beautiful, and I was thankful we had a few hours to spend there before out next train left a little before midnight. We walked around to see the opera house and main piazzas, as well as the Christmas market that was still set up. It was a great way to stretch our legs and make the most of our time before the final six-hour ride to Rome.

So as of 6:00 this morning I’m back in Rome! It was great to finish off the weekend traveling with a bang. I actually can’t believe I’m only here for 18 more days at this point; there is still so much pasta and gelato to be consumed. It’s been so much fun over in Europe but I think in a few weeks I’ll be very content with heading back to America to see everyone; the land of the free and home of the brave, freedom clearly referring to the free water and free bread and free access to public bathrooms. BYE!

Strut like you mean it

A good motto for Rome would be, “Another day, another protest”. Today, I walked out of the hotel to find people lining the intersections of the streets and refusing to let traffic through. They weren’t wearing matching shirts or holding flags or anything typical though. No no, these people literally looked like they had been walking down the street, seen whatever protest was going on, and decided they had enough free time to hang out in the street too. It’s been a few hours and they’re still out there, holding up traffic in all directions. I think there are helicopters out too, but again, no idea what anyone is protesting today. I will NEVER understand this side of Rome. They want to put up a super efficient high-speed train? No. Let’s protest. It’s a busy Saturday? We should have a transportation strike. None of it makes sense.

I just got back last night from my weekend in Barcelona! All the traveling has really started to take a toll on my body, but in the words of my mother, “It’s cheaper and faster to get to Venice from Rome than it is from America”, and the weekends are running out so every last trip needs to be squeezed in.

We had another early AM flight, courtesy of Ryan Air.  Our expected land time in Barcelona was 10:00 AM and we actually landed at 10:15 AM so there were no celebratory horns and applause and a recording telling us that 90% of Ryan Air flights landed on time last year. It feels great to be apart of the 10%. The airport is Barcelona was completely Americanized. It looked straight out of Chicago and the planes even pulled up right to the gate instead of us having to walk out to the plane. It was a great reminder of home/reality/proper airport technique.

The Casa Gracia Hostel in Barcelona is one of the cutest places I’ve ever stayed. Everything inside is so trendy; from the wall decoration to the furniture to the rooms. It was cleaner than some of the hotels we’ve even stayed in since getting to Europe, and our private 6-bed room looked like a cross between Madeline and princess chamber. The best part of all though, was when we learned there was free coffee/cappuccinos/hot chocolate/tea ALL DAY EVERY DAY LONG; a true saving grace. While we were checking in alone we averaged four cups of coffee each. It was a glorious start to the trip. We got a bar (equivalent to a quick café with limited seating in Europe) recommendation from the women at the front desk and wandered down the street to find a place called PianoPiano. They had a long list of piadinas for us to choose from and picking a bad one would have been impossible. I’ll never be able to go home to Notre Dame and eat the Reckers piadinas after this experience.

After a quick turn around from our exhausted state once all the coffee kicked in, we made our way over to the Basilica della Sagrada Familia via metro. The metro systems are the one consistent thing we can rely on from city to city. The line was long, but Carole’s mom to the rescue we were warned ahead of time to buy them online, so we cut right to the front. The Basilica has been under construction since about 1880, and is still not done. If this doesn’t tell you anything about how intricate the inside is, few things will. The outside architecture was a true work of art, but it wasn’t until I was inside that I realized how intricate the place was. The stained glass lit up the entire basilica magnificent colors and not a single portion of the wall was let without design. My favorite structural aspect were the columns in the church. As they reached the ceiling each turned to look like a tree, representing trees of life. I could have spent the entire day in there picking out new things.

We met up with some girls from the St. Mary’s program in Spain once we were outside and together ventured towards Park Guell. It was great to see how different everything was from any other place I’ve traveled to yet. Park Guell is known for the massive, snake shaped, mosaic bench, which you could see shining even from higher up on the hills towards the walk down to the park. There were tons of street vendors set up near the park, and they were all way less creepy than the ones in Rome. Also none of them were trying to sell me splat-balls, which I really appreciated (for those of you privileged enough to have never been harassed to buy a splat-ball, here’s what I’m talking about: http://www.toydoo.com/frog-splat-ball-pack-of-24-ea.html). We started to head back towards the hostel once it got dark but did some intense window-shopping on the way.

More perks of our trendy hostel: they offer a dinner each night for 8 euro that includes some sort of traditional Spanish food, salad, and all the sangria in the world. Friday night was tapas night, so we opted to eat at the hostel. The food was definitely restaurant quality and we got to try tons of different kinds of Spanish food (strangely a lot of potato dishes). All in all it was a pretty slow night; there isn’t liveliness when you’re running on a few hours of sleep.

The next day we were back at it early though. We walked along the streets from our hotel through the shopping district. A hit of the morning was a store called Desigual, home to some of the scariest throwback clothing I’ve ever seen. If you’re in the market for an expensive pair of flair jeans or a patch-style jacket, this is your place. We walked though the market place, which was even larger than the one we had gone to in Thessaloniki. We got some fruit and walked around to look at all the different booths, but also didn’t leave before getting a ton of over-priced chocolate. Back on the streets we walked farther down towards the sea, stopping at even more little tents on the way. Barcelona is clearly all about the handmade goods. The port was a sure sign that Barcelona must be packed in the summer with all the beaches and boats.

We split the afternoon between the aquarium (home to some fish I never knew existed), the beach (where car ads were being shot? In November?), and lunch by the sea where we got another traditional Spanish dish called Paella di Mare. It was heaven on earth. I would eat it for every meal for the rest of my life probably. We did a quick nap time/coffee break in the hotel before going back out into the city to the Magic Fountain of Montjuic. The fountain, each half hour, puts on a show complete with lights, music, and various patterns. No picture could really accurately capture how fun the show was though. That night we decided to go out to a massive club called Razzmatazz, assured by multiple people we would regret it if we skipped out on it. I can honestly say I’ve never been anywhere like it. There we were more people than in downtown New York, live performances, and the entire place was just all around massive.

Sunday morning was a little slow. We had initially planned to go to the Barcelona stadium, but didn’t have enough time before we had to start making our way to the airport. There was a massive strike on the streets, and although we weren’t completely sure what it was for, there were tons of people holding flags with an X through a pair of scissors. No haircuts? No scissors? No craft projects? Your guess is as good as mine. We attempted to go into our favorite store called Mango, a shop we found in Rome and love love love and it’s based out of Barcelona, but the massive store was closed; some places in Europe completely shut down on Sundays. We instead got more tapas for lunch and then went back to the hotel to finish checking out and go to the airport.

It wouldn’t be a true weekend trip if something didn’t go wrong, so of course we got on to the wrong train to the airport, had to get off at a random, scary station, proceeded to be trapped inside the train statin (it’s a thing), had to jump over a few obstacles (it’s okay because we didn’t get arrested), and escaped out to the streets to frantically wave down taxis. So much for completely understanding the metro system. We made it to the airport with enough time still and caught our breath at the gate before we got on the plane to come home.

Arriving in Rome is always a huge sigh of relief, and when we’re in the taxi on the way back from Ciampino airport and we see the Albergo come into view it definitely feels like home, which is the coolest part of traveling. Not too many people can confidently say they associate home with a two star hotel in the center of the city of Rome.

I’m in the process of making a quick turnaround since I’m leaving for Budapest in a couple days to spend Thanksgiving there with a couple of my best friends from Notre Dame, Megan and Kristen. The conversion rate is 300 Hungarian Forints for one Euro, so everything I buy in the next few days will be hilarious. I can’t even begin to tell you what I’m going to do in Hungary but I’m sure the next blog post will be entertaining. I’ll also be overnight training to Munich between Friday and Saturday to spend the rest of the weekend in Germany! The true test will be to see if I actually retained anything from all the years of German language I took in high school. I think the only phrase I actually remember is, “Mein Hund ist weg”, which translates to “my dog is gone/lost”; a key survival phrase.

Happy early Thanksgiving!

La da di da di, we don’t like DARTing

Today I lived out my worst nightmare. DARTing (the way we schedule for classes at Notre Dame) is one of those things every advisor tries to be super ho-hum about. Like, “oh it’s just DARTing. Don’t you worry.” What they don’t tell you is all the classes fill up in scary seconds, if you have second DART day you might as well transfer because your semester is hopeless, nothing about the system is pleasant, and even when they say they’ll open more spots in classes throughout the day they’re LYING.

So today was my DART day. A day like any other. I patiently awaited 2 o’clock Rome time aka 8 o’clock Notre Dame time, and by patiently I mean I watched the seconds tick by for hours while I sat in the library all day. 1:59 and a few seconds rolled around and I was ready. Numbers in front of me, I knew what had to go down. But when 2 o’clock hit, I couldn’t get into the system. I refreshed once. I refreshed twice. I refreshed thirty four times. Nothing. Panic hit, disaster erupted, stress consumed me. Desperately, I emailed every person in the entire Notre Dame business school for help. I would have emailed the custodial staff if I had their info. For every email I sent to an office worker I sent one to my mom too, usually in all caps lock like “ARE YOU IN THE OFFICE?” Or “HELP ME PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE GOD PLEASE”. I didn’t know how to deal with this; I couldn’t get up off my chair and walk 50 feet to Mendoza Business School and beg them for help. I couldn’t put in a hair bow and look desperate for classes. Despite my worst thoughts, I got a scary number of emails back, most unsure of what to do or why it wasn’t working. Panic continued.

As I was starting to accept the fact I would have to change my major and four year plan, graduate a year late, work long and strenuous hours on a farm to pay back my tuition, and sell my soul for a spot in a foresight class, a shining light hit my inbox. An email with a PIN number; a key into the scheduling world. To this moment I don’t know why I received emails all month ensuring me I wouldn’t need a pin to register and received one thirty minutes into my scheduled DART time, but whatever. Keep on keeping on.

It really put me behind, getting into the system a whopping half hour late, and my schedule isn’t ideal, but four hours of DARTing later I figured out a way to make things work and have 18 credit hours. So no farm work for me. All is right in the world. I never knew picking classes could bring me so close to fainting or cause my blood pressure to rise so drastically. Some kids have nightmares of clowns, I have nightmares of watching spots in classes vanish while I stare helplessly outside the DART gate. And that was today.

Major shout out to my mom for not deleting her email account all together after today as well as my index finger for being a trooper and hitting the refresh button enough times each hour to set a record.

A couple other things:
• I had the best gnocchi in the world today at Da Luigi.
• Yesterday there was a huge strike or demonstration in Campo di Fiori right next to our hotel and a massive riot squad (aka SWAT team) was running around under our windows all afternoon.
• The CowCat let me hold him yesterday.
• I’m leaving for Barcelona in eight hours.
• I had pear gelato and its easily top 5. Official standings coming soon.

I’m out for now. I hope you all dream happy thoughts tonight and not of yourself desperately clicking on a computer screen with the words “Failed Access” in your face. Ciao!

Queen B Takes Paris

One trip that every girl has on her bucket list is a trip to Paris. I’m sure of it. But what’s more fabulous than spending the weekend running through Paris? Spending the weekend running through Paris with great friends, a box of macrons, a fluent French speaker, and being only twenty. You can all just start referring to me as Blair Waldorf.

Quick notes of Paris before I get on to the story here:

• Chicago has prepared me for life in many ways, but the biggest is in light of transportation. The subway system in Paris was a replica of the L if I’ve ever seen one. Thank God for life in the city.
• If you’re going to Paris in the future, make a friend who speaks French. Everything is easier.
• I’m 98% sure the French diet consists of only pastries, aka I need to move there.
• Being nice to store owners gets you humorously ugly scarves for free, and I’ll be wearing it to Christmas mass when I’m home, Mom.

Friday morning, after a sleepless night, we all got up without complaints at 4:15 AM to get ready to head to the airport for our 6:50 flight to Paris! It was like Christmas morning. 16 girls had flights between 6:30 and 7 in the airport that morning, so we had called a bus the night before to take us to the airport at 5. However that morning at 4:45 when we piled out of the albergo, we found a party bus parked out front. Apparently we had booked a party bus. Sleepless and excited, we decided it was funny and stuck with it, riding the whole way to the airport in the blue-lit bus.

We didn’t plan for the security line to be equivalent to a line to get into a Taylor Swift concert, so after getting through we made a dash for the airplane like you see in movies. Ryan Air being Ryan Air though, we were more than okay at the gate. Same drill: blinding bright yellow seats, weird turbulence I don’t realize because I’m passed out from Dramamine, being awoken by celebration horns and applause, mad dash like the plane is on fire to get off the plane. I’m going to experience reverse culture shock when I have to fly home on American Airlines.

Landing in Paris was freezing. A solid 20 degrees colder than Rome, even my South Bend skin felt pierced by the wind. This didn’t stop us from wearing our cute, saved-for-France dresses though; we put on some gloves and sucked it up. We dumped our bags at the hotel in record time and walked our way about forty-five minutes towards the Louvre so we could really take in the city. Despite being a little gray, it was absolutely gorgeous. As of course the Eiffel tower was number one on everyone’s must-see list for the weekend, we walked that way in the late afternoon to see it before it got dark out.

From a distance, I remember thinking, “that’s it? Wait the Sears tower is way more impressive…” but of course as continuously proved I was WRONG. The Eiffel tower beats any other tower I’ve ever seen. Plus it photographs perfectly; please refer to me entire photoshoot in front of the Eiffel tower. Who knows when I’ll get pictures like that again? Post tower we went to the Louvre museum to kinda half look at a bunch of art BUT MOSTLY see the Mona Lisa. Signs all around the museum point you straight to her because that’s the only art anyone knows.

Mona Lisa was:

1. Small
2. So distant behind the glass AND roped off area
3. Still awkwardly half smiling. Nothing has changed
4. The perfect addition to my selfie-pictures

I posted just one selfie I took with the Mona Lisa, but please trust me when I say I have at least a dozen.

For dinner we went to a fun French restaurant where we had Vegitarian Croque for dinner (which is like cheese and bread) with salads and FRENCH FRIES! So authentic! Really, though, it all hit the spot after our long day.

I really wanted to go to the Musee d’Orsay while I was in Paris, convinced by both my dad and TripAdvisor that it was a must see, so while everyone caught up on a little sleep Saturday morning Katie and I instead got up early to take on the museum before meeting the rest of the gang at Notre Dame at noon. We decided to make it a morning of pastries, stopping for a Nutella-pudding like pastry and a box of fresh macrons. We got so distracted looking for crepes too that we walked all the way to the Louvre before we actually gave up on it, conveniently enough a couple minutes from the museum. The line to get in was just long enough for us to try all our macron flavors (pistachio, lemon, vanilla bean, raspberry, coffee, and caramel). We couldn’t get over how many famous pieces of art were kept there as we wandered into seemingly endless rooms of Picasso, Monet, and Degas works. Really sealing the deal for us though, on the fifth floor, were the three painting of Degas’ dancers and the Marie in Fourth Position sculpture. It was great to have mutual dancer appreciation for it, plus I’ve watched to see the sculpture my entire life.

The only thing that could make the morning better was a crepe, and luckily we ran into a crepe shop leaving the museum! I got a Nutella and banana crepe, and every bite further reminded me I needed to come back to Paris again ASAP for the food if nothing else. We walked the whole way to Notre Dame covered in Nutella. Not kidding.

The Notre Dame Cathedral was gorgeous inside and out, but I didn’t see any weird men with hunched backs or gypsies dancing on the streets so naturally I was a little confused. Maybe next time. Post Quasimodo search disappointment, we walked to the love bridge, where people for years have been hooking locks onto the bridge and throwing the key into the water. Super cute until “that girl” (Katie) in the group tells everyone they’ve been actually cutting off locks for the past year because the bridge is sinking. That really put a dent into the vision of things.

To make up for crushed dreams we took the metro to the Champs-Elysées. On the farther half of the street there were Christmas marts set up everywhere (I love that no one cares about thanksgiving here and we skip right to Christmas) so we pranced down the streets to Christmas music for a while. The Nutella waffles were perfect, and tons of the little shops let us try different cheeses and breads. Because we hadn’t eaten nearly enough, we got baguette sandwiches with brie from a place called Paul and went to have some of the famous Ladurèe macrons everyone raves about. Waiting in line to enter the shop was completely worth it, and more macrons were consumed (okay okay I’ll tell you the flavors; gingerbread, orange blossom, rose, chocolate, and salted-caramel).

Post stomach expansion, we decided to walk around and shop for a little for exercise but really in hopes of creating more room in our stomachs so we could eat more. We took pictures in front of the Arc de Triomphe (something I’ve wanted to see since I was a 6 year old watching Madeline VHS tapes on repeat), and shopped through the most expensive stores on the street because we were having a Blair Waldorf moment. Oh and side note, for anyone wondering, yes, Mercedes Benz has come out with their own line of nail polish.

Easily the most amazing thing I’ve seen in my entire life is the Eifel Tower lit up at night. You see it as you come around the corner from the subway stop, and no matter how many pictures you’ve seen on Facebook you still won’t be ready for it. It’s absolutely beautiful, and just as you don’t think it could look any more amazing it sparkles for the first five minutes of each hour. I looked like a three-year-old running around under it, trying to get to the other side before it started to sparkle again, but I don’t even care because it was the greatest moment of my entire life.

After we took enough pictures to fill our memory cards, we made our way back under the tower to the south leg to climb to the second floor. A million and a half stairs later, we found our way to the greatest view of Paris. It was worth every strained leg muscle.

Climbing back down was sad, but we drew it out as long as we could. We got back on the subway to an area that resembled Trastevere in Rome for more food. Hot wine is advertised all over the place, so we had glasses of that and cheese fondue to chat and reminisce on our weekend. We decided we also weren’t leaving France without getting another crepe, so we had another of those too before going back to the hotel for a whopping 3 hours of sleep before our flight. I got cinnamon sugar with butter, which in no way compares to any cinnamon sugar crepe I’ve tried to make at home. Which is also not saying a lot because I’m super bad at cooking. But it was amazing and a satisfying final note to French food.

Leaving was painful both because I never wanted to leave and because it was 5:45 in the morning. But here we are, back in Roma. It’s always funny going to classes as normal on Monday mornings but listening to everyone talk about their weekends spent in Switzerland or Poland. That definitely won’t be the same back in the Bend.

Realizing we’re entering into the final stretch month, I began to worry a little bit about the dip in my gelato intake but not worries I’m working on it. I also won’t know how to go home at this point and not continuously talk about food. Peace and love, you’ll hear from me post Barcelona adventure. 

Home sweet Rome

As of tomorrow, I will have officially been in Rome for 7 weeks. Aka I have a lifetime of knowledge of Rome now. It’s actually strange to think that 5 weeks ago I couldn’t get myself to Frigidarium gelato without getting lost (It’s literally across the street…). How to know when you’ve truly immersed in Roman culture:

•  When you get sick of tiramisu. They literally give out tiramisu here like it grows on trees. Seriously you would think there’s a surplus of it in this country. We’ve reached the point of turning down the free tiramisu Tony likes to give us after we eat at his restaurant. Read that again dad: I turned down dessert. You won’t even know me when I come home.
• When you’re no longer phased by the Pantheon. The first night I walked through Rome, I remember walking by the Pantheon and being in complete awe. How was it just sitting in the middle of the city casually like that? However I now walk by the Pantheon like I walk by the golden dome when I walk to class at Notre Dame, not even double-taking. I actually get annoyed because it’s crowded with annoying tourists in their Hawaiian shirts and audio tours. I’m criticizing American tourists right now.
• When you criticize American tourists. See previous bullet point.
• When you understand the keyboard. Currently, I’m typing completely normally on this Italian computer even despite the backwards key placement. The colon is in the wrong spot, you have to use the “Alt Gr” button (what does that even mean) to get to the @ sign, where the quotation marks button should be there’s a degree symbol (°). It’s all a mess. But I get it.
• When you and your friends all have favorite gelato places. On day two, I think someone could have offered me gelato out of a vending machine and I would have been thrilled. But we’ve matured – matured in gelato taste. I refuse to get it from Blue Ice, because it’s definitely a chain, Frigedarium is my favorite for flavors dipped in chocolate and when I’m feeling extra broke and want to save 50 cents, Giolitti has the best fruit flavors, the people at Flör don’t get mad when Katie and I show up right before they close at midnight and want to sample every flavor. I could lead gelato-tasting walking tours for a living if college doesn’t work out. Or even if it does work out.
• When you order wine at restaurants because if you’re going to pay for a beverage it isn’t going to be for tap water.
• When you’ve gotten over the fact that people in Europe don’t care about playing explicit music in public. Honesty, half of the people probably don’t even know enough English to know all the words in a rap song. If a Subway in America played Drop it Like it’s Hot, I’m pretty sure there would be a law suit. I’m still not over this experience.
• When you start ordering double espressos instead of cappuccinos. The true European test of your taste buds, I’m telling you.

The time here is flying way too fast, is what I’m trying to get at. I’m feeling super grateful today especially for being able to feel so comfortable in Europe, being able to refer to Rome as “home” to people, and being able to cross the street without being hit by a Vespa. Have a rockin’ Tuesday.