Buon Giorno, Italia

Whenever I think my time studying abroad couldn’t get any cooler, I am quickly corrected. As part of my program I went to Rome, Italy for the weekend with half of my study abroad group, and was able to spend time seeing the center of the art world if only for a few days. We took a bus to Malaga on Friday and flew to Rome from there, stayed until Monday afternoon and then flew back. At first I was nervous I wouldn’t have enough time to see everything, but surprisingly it was just the right amount.

The first full day in Rome we took a panoramic bus tour (no, not the buses you sit on top of, although that would’ve been nice) to see all the great sites. Our guide spoke over the speakers in our bus, and I don’t think anyone actually heard what he said the first five minutes. Not because it was hard to hear him, but because everyone was giggling at his accent. I know, immature, right? Well, not that I didn’t giggle a little, too. “Good’a morning’a. We’a are agoing’a to’a start’a our tour at’a the so-called’a Coliseum’a and’a end’a at’a Saint’a Peters’a.”
Our guide was very informative, and went in depth in describing the history and present use for each building and area we crossed in Rome. If you have ever taken an Art History course, it is just mind-boggling. I have seen slide after slide of artwork and churches and sculptures in Rome and although I always wanted to see them up close, it was hard to believe when I actually was. I suppose it’s like seeing a celebrity, only far more acceptable to stare at and run up to.

Rome pretty much blew my mind architecturally. I felt like an ant in this city with monstrous sculptures and massive buildings that although aren’t much bigger than any in many other cities I’ve been to, are massive in their design. Large chunks of marble or other stones comprise huge ledges and friezes in fronts of buildings that although look extremely important, can be used for something quite simple. Not only are the buildings massive and in a style I’ve only seen in history books, but also modern and ancient are grouped together in a way that makes B.C. buildings stand out in such a peculiar fashion. For instance, on our second day we walked through the narrow winding streets of ristorantes and designer clothes, only to stumble onto the Pantheon, a building from 2nd Century A.D, once a pagan temple. The buildings stick out like Titans with their style and aged stone. They are beautiful yet strange in their co-existence.

That first day, I didn’t know how to feel about Rome. Here we were seeing massive beautiful constructions, some dating back to B.C. or early A.D., and at the same time there were seas of tourists, men dressed as Gladiators, people selling cheaply made yet expensive souvenirs, and every language on earth being spoken at once. I was a tourist, yet I hated the idea of tourists, and I couldn’t imagine what it would be like to live in Rome.
People pushed by you on the street, peddlers came up with sun glasses and postcards saying “Good price, good price,” and I thought, “Where is Italy? Where is Rome? This can’t be Rome.” The postcards showed pictures of monuments standing proudly and alone, yet in reality each place was swarmed with mobs of people and it was hard to get from A to B. Large cities with a lot of people in it is nothing compared to large cities with tourists. And we weren’t even there in high season! To say the least, I was overwhelmed.

We had our guide for half of the morning, and the rest of our time in Rome was up to us on how we wanted to spend it. Over the morning we saw the Coliseum, the Imperial Forums, too many famous churches to count, and ended at the Vatican. To see this place in person is wild. The most expensive church and one of the most powerful religious leaders in the entire world, along with a museum that holds some of the most famous works of art. The place was of course mobbed with a massive line leading to the church. Our guide pointed to the window of the Pope’s bedroom and office, and I wondered if he ever got to go outside to walk around aside from his public appearances.

We walked to the Museum, which is attached to the church, and had absolutely no lines at all. We bought a ticket with an amazing student discount that practically cut the ticket cost in half, and spent our next five hours at the St. Peters. The museum is massive, holding paintings and sculptures from some of the most famous artists from the Renaissance era, as well as relics from ancient Egypt, mummies, a moon rock, and of course, the Sistine Chapel. Probably one of the best parts of the museum was not knowing what was next. I would walk into a room and suddenly see a piece of art I had studied in class. At one point I gasped, just from the shock of seeing a work of art so famous and I hadn’t expected it. Quite lovely.
Of course, the church was absolutely beautiful and massive. However, the only thing that made me feel it was special was the fact that it was the Vatican. Yes, it was impressive, but it wasn’t so elaborate and outstanding that I thought it was the most beautiful church ever. I did pay Peter’s pence and said a small prayer, and then immediately afterwards said, “Oh my GOD!” when looking at something. Caroline had to jab me to remind me, we were indeed in one of the holiest places on Earth. Yeah, pretty sure I’m going to hell for that.

In hindsight, probably my favorite part of the church itself, not counting the museum, was seeing the former Popes’ tombs. Caroline and I got to see the tomb of Pope John Paul II, and many people stood around solemnly praying, as well as dropping pictures, letters, and flowers on his tomb. Pictures weren’t allowed, but it was a very simple tomb, with its only decorations being the prayers of visitors.

As most of you know, I got to visit Italy a year ago with my boyfriend Justin. We went to Florence, Pisa, and Venice, seeing everything we could possibly see and watching our wallets so we could afford our train tickets and housing. It was also not long after I had found out I was gluten-sensitive, so it was a struggle for both of us as we tried to find food for me. It was quite the adventure being in a country that neither of us knew the language, finding monuments and gluten-free food at the same time. It was my first time in Europe and we both knew we would be back to Italy when we could afford a bigger meal here and there. People don’t normally think they will leave Italy thinner than when they went, but that was how Justin and I were after our trip. Now, being with a study abroad group with my housing and transportation already covered, I had plans for how my second trip to Italy would be. Plan #1, eat lots and lots of food. Plan #2, eat lots and lots of gelato. Plan #3, leave Italy fatter than when I came.

If Italy is known for anything it’s the food and the people. I have never met nicer people on Earth than the Italians I met in the ristorantes we ate at. Our second night in Rome, Caroline, our friend Maureen and I went to a place close by that wasn’t gluten-free, but helped us in picking dishes we wouldn’t have problems with. The owner loved us. His name was Gionni, and I think he especially loved our friend Maureen. Small blondes get a lot of attention in Italy and Spain! Gionni was very nice to us, poking fun at us, laughing with us, checking on us often, and giving us a free drink of Limoncello, a strong and popular Italian liquor. It was exactly how you see people enjoying themselves in Italy on TV. It was so perfect and we kissed him goodbye saying we would send more people to his ristorante.

The next night, Caroline was bound and determined to find some gluten-free pasta while we were in Italy. So we found an Internet café, and sure enough Caroline found a place only a few blocks away! We went to the ristorante and asked them personally if they indeed had gluten-free food. The waiter told us they had it all, from pizza to pasta to dessert. Caroline and I made a reservation and ran away jumping and skipping and cheering for food!
Four of us went to dinner and we were all excited for some great food. The cuisine was absolutely amazing, and Caroline and I had a hard time suppressing our excitement and happiness. Caroline ordered a margherita pizza, and I ordered pasta with pesto and we shared. Hands down, the best pesto I have ever had in my entire life. Caroline and I were practically hugging the waiter telling him how happy we were. We also bought a bottle of wine to share between the four of us and Caroline and I had GF tiramisu for dessert. Our waiter at this ristorante loved us, too, and he was much younger and cuter. He and another waiter brought out three rounds of shots of Limoncello for us and took them with us. After dinner he invited us out for drinks at a bar across the street. His name was Stefano, and over drinks he told us he was a theater actor and performed in his own plays as well as in musicals. He brought along some of the other workers from the ristorante, and we all talked about Italy and the U.S. and politics, etc. Some of his friends didn’t speak as much English, but it was fun all the same. He bought us all a round of grapa, the most terrible tasting alcohol on Earth made from grapes, and we all shuddered and shook our heads after taking it. After the bar closed, Stefano walked us back to our hotel so we wouldn’t have to walk alone and he said goodbye to us at the door. Very gentleman like, and he was definitely one of the highlights of our trip.
Of course, we did many other things than just look at monuments and eat. Well, kind of. I ate gelato at least two times a day, trying to get my fill of all of the flavors. We walked, and walked, and walked some more. We also went to the Sunday Market with two of our program directors, Carmen and Kristin, which was really nice because we got to practice Spanish, and I got to know them a lot better. Kristin and I bought authentic Italian Army satchels which reeked and reminded me of my Dad’s hunting gear, but very cool all the same. The market seemed to stretch forever with booths, but I kept buying to a minimum and focused more on the experience.

And, I did find Rome. Once I got lost in the backstreets and away from the tourist traps, I peered into windows of classic Italian Ristorantes and heard bands play in the squares while people sat on the verandas and enjoyed their pasta, I knew I was in Italy. All of my plans followed through perfectly; I came, I saw, I ate, and my pants are fitting a little bit tighter. My only wish was that Justin could’ve been there to indulge with me on the food. Although I would like to see as many countries as possible and experience new and different cultures, I think I will always want to return to Italy. Who would like to join me?

Ciao bella!
Adios.

Vida y otras cosas en Granada

I am having a relaxing afternoon in my apartment, sipping on coffee, watching the buildings on the hill across from us reflect the slowly descending sun, and listening to a local Spanish TV show. Today was one of the first days that the sun has emerged since we’ve been here. It has rained almost every day we have been here, which apparently is VERY odd. Normally it rarely rains here, but it has rained so much people are getting depressed and staying inside all day. It is very discouraging to constantly be wet and have umbrellas break. It even snowed a couple days ago! It didn’t stick, in fact it didn’t even make it to the ground, but it was cold and very strange for the area. Many of the sidewalks are made of tile, so it makes for a slick walk when the rain comes down. Luckily, none of my slips have ended with me on my butt. However, it has been so cold in our apartment. Everyday that Nati comes for lunch she finds me curled up in a ball with a blanket around me, saying “tengo frio!” The heat doesn’t turn on until the afternoon, and the apartment doesn’t have carpet or very well sealed windows. Nati always laughs and makes fun of both Caroline and I saying, “Son norte americanos!” In other words…we should be used to much colder weather. Colder weather, yes, but warmer houses tambien. (Here is a picture of the street I live on, and one of the front of our apartment.)

I don’t have much of a routine at the moment, because I am STILL waiting for classes to start. When I first arrived I had “review courses” which was a three-hour class every night going over basic stuff we have already learned. Then I took a placement exam to figure out where I needed to go. I ended up placing in a different program then I applied for, but it’s fine because all of the classes are approved by BSU and I will still get my credits. So, since the placement exam I have had five days off. I don’t even start classes for another two days! It is kind of crazy. I have been trying to get a schedule and run every other morning or so, but it is hard. At first I couldn’t sleep at night, now I sleep way too much! The directors of my program tell me it’s my reaction to change of environment and dealing with a new language. It is mentally draining to constantly be translating everything you hear and everything you want to say. It’s even more draining when you can’t say what you want to say, or don’t understand what others are trying to say. (Here's a view of the river, which is really close to our apartment and has a path along it where I sometimes run.)


Caroline and I received a new roommate the other night, Mari, from France. Up until now, we have been referring to her as Frenchy. As in, “Soon, Frenchy will be here.” Or “I wonder if Frenchy will think we are stupid Americans?” (This last part spoken with a phlegmy French accent, “stoopid Amereecahns”). So far, she has been a good roommate. But Caroline and I still refer to her as Frenchy, just not to her face. However, I’m hoping to change that soon, and once I feel it is appropriate, I will ask her if it’s okay.Not surprisingly, Frenchy doesn’t speak English. But, she does speak some Spanish, about the same level as Caroline and I. We are able to have conversations, but not necessarily go in depth. So when we come to words we don’t know, its funny because either one of us dashes for a dictionary, or we just try to explain what we want to say in Spanish. Mari is 24 years old, and is taking a month of Spanish here and then going to Peru for three months of Spanish. Her whole family is French and only French, and she said it is frustrating because people in France only speak one language-- French. Caroline and I told her it’s somewhat similar in the US, but she said they are worse off, because French isn’t an international language. She said for her job she needs to learn both Spanish and English. However, I’m not sure what her job is, or if she just wants a job in which these languages are necessary.

We were curious how meals would work out, since Caroline and I have “special needs”, but it ends up Frenchy doesn’t eat with us. She makes her OWN meals! Apparently she had a cheaper option of making her own food instead of having Nati make it. The first day Frenchy was here we explained to her that because we are weird and can’t eat gluten, we can’t use the same side of the toaster for our bread. I explained to her which side we use and which side she should use. Her eyes filled with panic as she tried to explain in Spanish, “I already used that side!” Poor girl felt really bad. We explained it was fine, we would just clean it, and from now on we needed to use different sides. I am glad Nati makes us food because her cooking is AMAZING! I love her food. I realized today that I haven’t had such a large variety of food since before I found out I was gluten-free. She uses very basic ingredients, but makes so many different things. We almost always have meat (mostly chicken) broccoli, potatoes, a soup with either Garbanzo beans or lentils, and fruit. So we are getting quite the balanced diet, and she always makes the meal differently. She has even ventured into making us gluten-free pizza and breaded chicken! She makes it all from scratch, too. We constantly shower her with compliments and thanks, and she giggles and tells us how easy we are to please. Apparently, some of the other kids won’t eat her food. What a bunch of crazies!

Even more bizarre, I just received an email from a guy named Tyler. Tyler went to school at Boise State and lived with my host family in Costa Rica right before I lived there. So, Yami gave me his email and facebook contact and I friended him and asked him questions about his time there and such. Apparently, he lives in Cordoba right now with his wife, which is in the same providence (?) as Granada. Weird! I guess when people have similar interests they end up doing similar things.

As usual, I am overflowing with things to say, but am trying not to overdo it in one blog. I may have to write these more frequently! I still wanted to talk about the Alhambra, which I went to see earlier this week. But, since I have come to my personal limit, I will leave you with this photo of me in the gardens, and will write on the Alhambra next time!