Choosing a home

In my last entry, I referred to myself as homeless. I was a little bit worried when I realized I had four days to move out of my dorm and still hadn't found an apartment. I was really hoping to hear from the guys I sang with, because their apartment seemed perfect. It had been almost a week, and I hadn't heard from them... so I decided to keep searching.

On Wednesday night, I went and saw two more apartments. Both were amazing, in very different ways. The best part of it is, I was offered both places! So, I found myself having to choose between those two or wait and hear from the one I loved so much. Mamma mia!

Let's recap:

Apartment #1: Pep and Giuseppe
This place was amazing. Pep is an artist, and all the walls were covered with sketches and paintings. He also plays guitar and sings. Pet snakes! Pet turtles! I would be rooming with an Italian girl who I didn't get the chance to meet but who is very nice, according to the guys. I ran into Pep on the street though, while waiting to hear back from him - he was really rude! He asked if I found a place, and I said no... so he said "well maybe we'll give you a call" and then turned his back on me to make a phone call. Just like that! Not the same friendly vibe that I'd witnessed the first time we met.

Apartment #2: Valentina
I walked in and was greeted boisterously by my six potential roommates. Everyone was laughing, cracking jokes and telling stories, and making fun of President Bush. There was so much energy in this place! I could hardly move, it was so crowded... but I could tell that all of these people were amazing friends. I called and canceled my next house-viewing appointment so that I could hang out with them for a little while longer. I'm not sure I could handle the constant chaos of that tiny apartment, though! Valentina called me the next morning and offered me the apartment, saying that I made a great impression on them and that they're all excited to live with a goofy American girl! Ha!

Apartment #3: Pier Luca
This apartment is beautiful. BEAUTIFUL. Pier Luca and his best friend remodeled it themselves, and it's on the top floor of an amazing building. He plays guitar and loves the Beatles, and my roommate would be a 20 year old Italian girl, also a student at Unibo. (University of Bologna!) There would be 6 of us altogether - me, 4 Italians and a Portuguese girl who is studying here for the year. The apartment isn't as central as the other two, but the walk is a pleasant one, down a beautiful and safe street. The other two are in the center of everything, in the middle of the noisiest, most fun and probably most dangerous neighborhood in the city.

So while still waiting to hear from Pep and Giuseppe, I saw Pier Luca's place and was offered the room immediately. Ten minutes after that, I saw Valentina's apartment and she called me in the morning to say that they chose me as well! Still hoping to live with Pep and Giuseppe, I called them one last time and they told me that they had chosen someone else. So, I was down to two choices. Valentina's party house or Pier Luca's serene getaway.

Oh, what a dilemma. I called both of them and talked to them a little more, I made a list of pro's and con's, I pictured myself in both houses. I tried everything, but both places were great. Finally, while chatting on the phone with Pier Luca, my gut told me that his apartment was the right choice for me. I just had a feeling. So, I went for it and promised him that I'll stop by in the next few days with the deposit money.

What a relief! I found a beautiful apartment, and I felt wonderful about my choice. Listening to my gut instinct was a good call. Valentina was disappointed but made me promise that I'll come back and visit them in their crazy bohemian flat. I'm not sure I could have handled living there but it'll be a great place to visit.

Then, this morning I got a very unexpected phone call from Pep, offering me the apartment. I was really confused, and asked him if I misunderstood when he told me "no" the day before. He said they'd changed their minds. I explained to him that I'd found another place, and he responded by asking me if I'd already paid. I said no, and he said "well, think about it and let me know" and then hung up! Again, just like that!

Half of me was tempted to bail on Pier Luca and live in my dream apartment with my turtles and snakes and singing friends. Their apartment is on Via Zamboni, right in the middle of everything. It's above a coffee shop! It's perfect! Yeah, half of me was absolutely pining to live there. The other half, however, was wondering how cool of a person Pep actually is - after making me wait over a week before hearing from him, blowing me off when I ran into him on the street, and asking me to bail on someone that I've already made an agreement with. That half of me was also in love with the beautiful apartment that I had already accepted.

Then both halves of me simultaneously realized - I'll be happy wherever I end up. Both apartments are beautiful, this city is beautiful, I'm here for a year and I can make the most of it regardless of where I live. I don't have to worry, and I don't have to break an agreement that I already made - something that would make me feel terrible. So, I told mister Pep to take his apartment and stick it where the sun don't shine - I'm living with Pier Luca! Ok, ok, you caught me, I didn't say it that way.

I love love love my place. I will post pictures when I move in on Sunday. My birthday also happens to be this Saturday, so I'm thinking of this as a birthday gift to myself. My first day as a
20 year old will also my first day in my new home in Bologna.

Americana senza tetto!

I am the worst blogger ever.

Maybe not, but I apologize sincerely to my few loyal readers (Mom and Melissa) for not having posted in over a week. A lot has been happening; in fact, too much to recount in one blog entry. So in the interest of saving you all a lot of boredom, I'll just cover the main points!

Sylvia texted me a few days ago to say that she gave the apartment to another girl (the one with my piccolo principe). It wasn't meant to be, I guess, but it was awfully nice of il piccolo principe to come all the way to Bologna to say hello! Hehe :) So, the hunt for an apartment continues. Finally I got sick of searching through advertisments and calling strangers who speak at light speed, and decided to make an annuncio of my own which I posted on the student bulletin boards. Here it is... I'm really quite proud of it:

The top says HOMELESS AMERICAN! and then it goes on to describe what I'm looking for. I got several calls, and one of the places is really great. I spent over an hour talking with the roommates, and actually sang with them. It was awesome. They also have two snakes and two turtles, and since I've never been allowed to own a reptile due to my mom's snake phobia, I'm very excited! Hopefully it will work out, and if not, the search will continue!

I also got some less appealing responses. For example, one guy had a single room available, but explained to me that it would just be me and him living in his house. I told him I wasn't interested, but later received the following text message. (Translated for your convenience, of course): "I have your room, you will pay 250 euro and I will not ask you for sex." Needless to say, I didn't respond and haven't heard from him since.

I have exactly 6 days to find a house before I actually become "Americana senza tetto"... So, please send happy thoughts my way. Preferably, happy thoughts with a washing machine and wireless internet!

In addition to searching for an apartment, I've been participating in (mandatory) activities organized by my program. Our most recent excursion was to the nearby city of Monte Sole, which was the site of a major Nazi invasion during World War II. On September 29, 1944, the Nazi soldiers destroyed the town, killing nearly all of its inhabitants in an effort to stop the efforts of Resistance fighters. We heard the story of one of the only survivors, a man named Francesco Pirini. He was 17 years old when it happened and only survived the attack because his mother had sent him into the hills that morning to pick herbs. He witnessed the invasion from the hillside, and couldn't do anything to stop it... he lost 13 members of his family that day.

Pirini's story was incredibly sad, but I was amazed at his resilience. He has obviously led a beautiful and happy life, despite the trauma that he went through at such a young age. He has an amazing laugh, which we heard over and over again as he told us about his children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren. I was so happy to hear him laugh, to see that he sees life as a beautiful and magical thing. I'm very glad that I was fortunate enough to meet him, to hear his story and shake his hand.

My not-so-abundant free time this week has been spent mostly at a local month-long festival called Feste de L'Unita. It's really incredible - there were hundreds of booths and cultural events from all over the world. There was salsa dancing, live jazz, indian food, brazilian food, (I can't actually list all the different types of food, there were too many!) mojitos, and even ice skating. That's right, we were "Americans on Ice" in the middle of the Italian summer. I'm proud to say
that I didn't fall, although there was much flailing involved. As you can see here, I remained standing due to the valiant efforts of Leslie and Mike.

Tonight, Leslie (above) and I went to dinner with our friend Anna, an Italian girl who works at our study center. After dinner we walked her back to her apartment and chatted for a bit. As she was saying goodbye, though, her door closed behind her and she was locked out of her apartment! After many failed attempts at lock-picking, and even more failed attempts at scaling the side of the building, Anna called the fire department and asked them to send someone over to open the door.

... They sent an entire fire truck! When the huge truck first pulled up, I was stunned. When the eight Italian firemen in full uniform jumped though, though, I couldn't help myself. It was so ridiculous that I was overcome with a fit of giggles and couldn't stop laughing - Anna explained to them that it was because I was American and didn't know what was going on. They made a big show of opening the door, (trying to impress us, I guess) and one fireman gave me his phone number! I think that's just the Italian way, but regardless - Luigi the firefighter will be the first person I call next time I lock myself out of the house.

Well, that just about sums up the most memorable moments of my week. I'll end with a photo that Leslie took of me walking through a meadow at Monte Sole. It sort of looks like I'm walking into the sky, at the start of a grand adventure! Fitting, don't you think?

Getting used to it...

There are some aspects of the Italian lifestyle which come quite naturally to me. For example, the food. I eat fresh tomatoes every single day, along with cheese and bread and basil and pizza and gelato... yesterday I had two gelati, one at lunchtime and another at dinner! Oh, and let's not forget the wine. I have grown quite fond of vino frizzante during the hot afternoons, and of course a glass of red wine with dinner is apparently a must.

The nightlife is another thing that I've quickly gotten used to. I've never been the clubbing type, and noisy bars aren't really my scene either. So I love the italian habit of mingling outside in Piazza Maggiore, chatting around the fountains and enjoying the warm night air. Last night was pretty chilly, I'd guess around 85 degrees at midnight. The weather is another thing I'm getting used to - I wasn't sure how to deal with it at first, but I've quickly adopted the strategy used by most Italians: the mid-afternoon nap. By sleeping from approximately 2:00-4:00, I miss the hottest part of the afternoon and get extra rest which makes it easier to stay up late in the piazza.


Yeah, these are things that I've learned pretty quickly. There are some things, though, that I don't think I'll ever get used to.

For example, the double-kiss. Sometimes they go left first, sometimes they go right first, sometimes there's just one kiss, sometimes there are two, sometimes there is one and then a break and then the other. I swear, it makes me dizzy and bumping noses with a stranger is definitely one of the more awkward moments that I've experienced. Also, although this has thankfully never happened to me, I've witnesssed many drunken attempts (and failures) at the double-kiss. Not something I'd like to experience.

Another thing, and this is probably the most difficult for me to accept: no tipping. Literally, people just don't tip here. The waiters don't expect it, and most of the time don't appreciate it. Now, anyone who has ever gone out to eat with me knows that I am an exorbitant tipper. Part of this comes from being a waitress, and part of it comes from being a sap. Ha! Anyway, the idea of not leaving anything is just unbearable for me. So far, I haven't been able to do it. We'll be all set to leave, and the bill will be taken care of, and suddenly I find myself throwing an extra euro on the table. I don't even consciously do it, it's like my hand has a mind of its own!

Other than the excessive double-kissing and the complete lack of tipping, I've been getting along fine. I've even found a circle of friends here in Bologna!

While searching for an apartment, my friend Molly and I became friends with a guy named Savio. Savio had a room for rent but when he was explaining the details to me over the phone, I missed the part where he said it won't be available until January. (Language barrier strikes again!) When we met and realized that there had been a misunderstanding, he was really nice about it and ended up inviting me and Molly to a dinner party that he was throwing the next night.

We accepted, of course, and had a great time getting to know Savio, his roommates, and all of their friends. There were about 15 people crammed around his tiny dining room table, and we enjoyed a feast of pasta bolognese, tomatoes, bread, cheese, mortadella, salami, potato chips and popcorn. Yes, potato chips and popcorn. We also had red wine with dinner and margaritas with dessert. Then, several people started samba dancing. By the end of the evening, I wasn't even sure which country I was in.

The next morning, I woke up to realize that the mixture of wine and margaritas had created a not-so-pleasant feeling in my tummy. After discovering that Molly was experiencing a similar unpleasant rumbling, we decided that there was only one cure to our ailment: chow mein.

So, we found a tiny Chinese food restaurant in a smelly back alley of Bologna. It was incredible. Walking into that restaurant was like walking right back into the bay area, a feeling which stuck with us until we read the menu. Wonton soup was called "soup with ravioli". Chow mein? "Spaghetti with mixed vegetables" (and it was actually spaghetti - fried, greasy, delicious spaghetti). The biggest shock, though, was when I eagerly ordered "tau fu in tre varietà", essentially "tofu three ways". Imagine my surprise when the food arrived and I discovered that the "three varieties" of tofu were actually tofu, steak, and chicken! As I mentioned before, I have decided to renounce my vegetarianism in the interest of experiencing the culinary aspect of italian culture. However, I don't think this counts! So I gobbled up one of my three varieties of tofu and enjoyed my spaghetti chow mein, and next time I think I'll order something less misleading - maybe the "tofu that is actually tofu" or the "vegetarian dish with no meat whatsoever." :)

Il Piccolo Principe

Gather 'round, children... It's storytime!

Once upon a time, I left my cozy northern California home and flew alllll the way to Ireland, to the city of Dublin. My first day in Dublin was a dreadful day indeed. I found myself alone in this dark and dreary city, in the middle of a terrible thunderstorm. My backpack was heavy, but not quite as heavy as my spirits. I was tired and sore, and not a soul in the city knew my name.

I checked into a hostel, thinking that I had found a safe and warm place to rest my weary head, but I was attacked by an army of bedbugs! I tried my best to fight them off, but they outnumbered me 10,000 to one and I was quickly defeated. This left me feeling quite sad, not to mention itchy. I decided that I would retreat into the world of couchsurfing, hoping to find an ally who might come to my rescue in further attacks.

While on a long and dangerous journey through the world of www.couchsurfing.com, I came across the profile of a wise and mysterious mage. This mage, who goes by the name of "PJ" did not offer me a couch, but I discovered a secret message written on his profile: "Everything essential is invisible to the eye."

I couldn't get these beautiful words out of my mind! Who spoke them, what did they mean? Even as I found solace in the home of the beautiful Princess Allison of Dublin, I couldn't forget the words of the wise mage, PJ. So, I sought the advice of the most wise and knowing Oracle in the land... The glorious and all-knowing Google.

Google informed me that the words were written by a saint, Antoine de Saint Exupéry. I knew that I had to read the rest of his words - I just had to. This was too important of a quest to be ignored. Luckily, I found a copy of his story, entitled The Little Prince in the kingdom's local used bookstore. I read it immediately. In the story, the saint tells of a tiny prince who leaves his tiny planet and travels the universe having grand adventures! This magical story renewed my strength and lifted my spirits. With a skip in my step, I left the kingdom of Dublin and continued my journey. My destination: a hostel in Nice, France - the cheapest hostel in the land, costing only a few gold coins a night!

When I arrived (on my steed, of course) at the doorstep, I was shocked to discover the name of the hostel. Hostel de Saint Exupèry. There was a beautiful portrait hanging on the entrance, of none other than Le Petit Prince himself. I was stunned to discover that the saint had walked through those very halls, had written his story within the walls of the hostel. My stay there was filled with adventures, and I befriended many lords and ladies from kingdoms all over the world. I was sad to leave, but knew that I would see my little prince again, though I knew not when not where.

Now, many days have passed. I have been living in the kingdom of Bologna, exploring the many castles and battling evil hair-dragons. I have been on a tiring quest - the quest for an apartment. I was beginning to feel like my quest was futile, that I would never find a place to live. I have seen many rooms and dialed many numbers, but have not found my ideal abode.

Today, I received a call from Silvia, a princess at a nearby castle. She informed me that the lords and ladies of the court are looking for one more person to join them in the castle, in a double room overlooking the piazza. I went to see the room, expecting yet another failure, another disappointment, another wasted quest. The moment the doors opened, though, I was struck by a brilliant ray of light. I knew in an instant that I'd found it. The rooms were huge and filled with light. The kitchen was beautiful and the bathroom was clean! The walls were covered with photos by some of my favorite photographers. The lords and ladies were friendly and funny, and offered me sweets and sparkling water.

I knew that this was the perfect apartment, my ideal home, the perfect place. I closed my eyes and asked for a sign. I asked Google and PJ alike, and when I opened my eyes I was stunned at the poster on the way in front of me. There on the wall, looking down on me with kind eyes and an adventurous smile, was Il Piccolo Principe. My little prince, right here in Bologna! There it was - the sign, il segno.

The princess Silvia promised to send a messenger by next week to let me know if I have been chosen. I left the castle feeling exhilarated, excited about the possibility of living here with my prince.

So, children, the end of our story remains a mystery. Il Piccolo Principe waits for me to join him in my perfect house, but my fate lies in the hands of one princess! Will I join him, or will he smile down on the life of another lucky adventurer? Only time will tell!

Straniera...

So, I live in Bologna now. I gave someone directions, I sent a letter at the post office, I've had multiple phone conversations in italian and I bought a quart of milk at my local grocery store. Mamma mia, sono italiana!

Well, not quite.

Wherever I go, I still stick out like a sore thumb. Maybe it's my pale skin, freckles, light brown hair, jeans, flip-flops, map or a combination of all the above... but at a glance, any Italian can tell you that I am straniera. Foreigner.

Two days ago, I was walking across the street looking (in my opinion) like I absolutely belonged in Bologna. Groceries and keys in hand, no map visible, shoes that weren't flip-flops... Ah yes, I was the epitome of a Bologna native. I passed a man in the street and gave him a polite smile, and he turned to his friend and said in italian "Lei è straniera." He emphasized it just like that, SHE is a foreigner, as if he were proving a point.

Oh, I just couldn't believe it. I had groceries! I had keys! Yet I was still straniera. As you can imagine, this was quite an emotional blow. I managed to maintain composure though, and with a bruised ego and a heavy heart, I headed to my hair appointment (how can I be straniera if I have a hair appointment?!). As the sylist was cutting my hair, she made some comment about my hair and Madonna (???) which I didn't entirely understand, so I figured that nodding politely would be a safe bet. She laughed and turned to her friend, another stylist, and said in italian something like "these foreigners don't understand anything" to which he replied "it's because they eat too much fish."

...

Too much FISH? TOO MUCH FISH? First of all, I haven't eaten fish in 7 years. Second of all, that statement doesn't even make any sense. THIRD of all, well... it's just rude. He went on to say "they just want to come to Italy and get their exotic haircuts and then go back home to show their friends."

Of course, everyone knows that I'm not the most assertive person in the world, so I just sat there listening to them making fun of me - also, the woman was holding scissors about an inch from my head so it wasn't a particularly good time to get in an argument. When it was finally over, I left feeling defeated, with less hair and less dignity. I needed to clear my head so I decided to go to my favorite spot in the city so far. There's one room in the museum with forests painted on all four walls. Since there's not much nature in Bologna, this room is the greenest place in the city! When I got to the museum, I couldn't get up to the door because there was a show going on in the piazza near the entrance, and a crowd of people was blocking my way. There were huge speakers set up, loud trance music playing, and literally hundreds of people, so I knew it must be something interesting.

I made my way through the crowd to see what was going on, and when I finally got to the front I wasn't even sure what I was witnessing. I guess it could be called "interpretive dance" but I personally think that would be an insult to interpretive dancers everywhere.

There was a man, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, writhing on the ground as if he were in terrible, agonizing pain. He was (more or less) moving along with the music and every once in a while he would freeze in some strange pose or another. He wasn't doing anything difficult, or anything graceful, or... anything at all, really. Yet there were hundreds of people crowded around, looking extremely interested.

This was the last straw. I just didn't get it, and I obviously didn't get it because I was straniera. I thought to myself "How am I going to survive here for a year? I don't speak the language, my hair stylist hates me and apparently writhing on the ground is considered art." I missed home, I missed being a local, I missed people who speak English, I missed trees and I missed dancing that is actually dancing.

I don't know when I started feeling better, but I did. When I got back to my dorm, we all went out to a tiny trattoria for my friend Molly's birthday. The people at the restaurant were amazing, the food was amazing and the wine was especially amazing. The next day, I looked at several really nice apartments and talked to my mom on the phone. I bought comfortable pajamas and found my way across the city without a map, and did yoga in the evening. This place, this incredible city full of adventures and treasures and evil hair stylists which must be defeated at all costs... yes, this place is my home now. I am a pale-skinned, freckled, flip-flop wearing straniera but I'm exactly where I belong.

When actually in Bologna...

Yeah, I haven't figured out what to do, now that I'm actually here.

I look back on the journey leading up to my arrival in Bologna, and I realize that it never really sunk in that I'd actually get here! I spent so much time preparing, almost a year filling out forms and getting my visa and making travel arrangements, then I was travelling in Ireland and in France, drinking Guinness and swimming in the Mediterranean... then all of a sudden, before I knew it, I was here! I live here, this is home sweet home. I'm still walking around this vast city in a daze, wondering how on earth I'm going to get used to it all.

I have pictures to post, I have stories to tell, but first I have an entrance exam to take (they have to make sure I can actually speak italian before they send me off to the university!)

One quick thing, though: It occurred to me that I don't have many of your e-mail addresses, so personal correspondence is kind of impossible at this point! I'd very much like to send and receive e-mails, so please please please send me an e-mail at kalensmiles@gmail.com letting me know your e-mail address (kalensmiles is also my skype username, for anyone who has it). This way, I'll not only be able to e-mail people personally but I'll be able to compile a mass e-mail list and remind everyone when I post. I'll also send out an e-mail letting everyone know my new address and cell phone number! I'm guessing my posts will be less frequent for a while, because I have a lot to accomplish in the next few weeks before classes begin at Unibo (University of Bologna).

*EDIT* Ok, I completed my entrance exam and it was a piece of cake... un pezzo di torta? Well, anyway, now for the fun part.

For the next three weeks or until I find an apartment, I am staying in a dorm with 9 other American students, all from various universities in California. So far, we're having a great time getting to know eachother and exploring this enormous city which is now our home. So far I've been too overwhelmed to take many photos, but I did manage to snap this one at a local cafe.


That's right, my very first Italian cappuccino. I could definitely see myself getting addicted to these things! The guy who made it thought it was hilarious that I took a picture - he leaned over the counter and whispered "Americana?" Apparently a smiley face cappuccino is nothing special here, but I loved it!

Anyone who knows me knows that I don't like coffee, but this was a damn good cappuccino. I've always wanted to enjoy a cappuccino - I love the smell, I love the foam, I love the way it looks... but normally I can't stand the taste. It's different here, it's so rich and smooth... mmmmmmmm.

If you're surprised by my new affinity for coffee, you will be especially surprised by the fact that I have given up my vegetarianism. My first night in Bologna, all of the American exchange students were treated to a very fancy meal at a famous Bolognese restaurant called Cantina Bentivoglio where I had my first bite of meat in almost 7 years... a delicious house-made mortadella. I also tried prosciutto crudo and a delicious salami - tiny bites of each, of course, to avoid getting sick. My favorite was by far the mortadella, which made me a little homesick for Berkeley and Adagia, where we often served a mortadella sandwich as a lunch special. I'm a little disappointed now that I never tried it!

Other than trying new foods and discovering my love for the cappuccino, I've been busily searching for an apartment. I've seen a few promising places so far - one looks especially nice, with a huge terrace overlooking the city! I'll post pictures when I find the perfect place, casa di Kalen, but it might take a while. Making phone calls about apartments has been difficult - I think I understand and speak italian pretty well in person, but it's a different story over the phone when I can't see the person and they're talking at light-speed.

I discovered my favorite place in Bologna today, Mercato delle erbe, a huge indoor farmer's market with all kinds of fresh fruits and vegetables, bread, cheese, fish, meat, etc etc etc. It's open every day, so I'm sure I'll be a regular! I also bought a yoga mat today and am looking forward to morning yoga on the balcony at my dorm. All in all, things are going splendidly but I miss everyone terribly! Please, please write me e-mails. I crave news from home.

Ciao, a presto!

Kalen

Nice is Nice!

Ok, I'm sure every American who's ever been here has made that joke, but it's true. It's been a busy couple of days, so I have some catching up to do! Let's see, where was I?

I left Dublin on Monday morning after a very relaxing last day there. I did some shopping in the morning and cooked dinner again with Allison (I'll spare you the photos this time but rest assured, it was delicious.) I asked her what she'd do if it were her last night in Dublin, and she said she'd go on a long walk. So, that's what we did. We got gelato in Temple Bar and watched some crazy street performers doing acrobatics and flaming limbo, which was pretty intense/ridiculous. I got a cool video of it, maybe I'll post it later when I have the chance. Anyway, it was nice to just see the city one last time and say goodbye to everything. The gelato didn't suck, either... Oh my goodness, I'm so excited to see how many gelati I'll be able to eat in a year!

When we got back to the flat, Julien and Mattheu managed to suck us into a game of "Rock Band" on their Xbox. With Mattheu on the drums, Julien on guitar and Allison and myself on vocals, we delivered an incredible performance of "Dani California." We stayed up playing the game until midnight, at which point figured I might as well just stay awake until it was time to leave for the airport at 3:00AM. Ack, it seemed like a good idea at the time...

Of course, by the time I arrived in Nice at 11:00AM, I was regretting my earlier decision. I checked into my hostel and groggily spent the day in town and at the beach. The water here is the bluest I've ever seen, it almost doesn't look real. The beach isn't sandy, either - it's made up of millions and millions of smooth rocks and pebbles, most small enough that you can sink into them. There were thousands of people there, but it was still one of the most beautiful beaches I've seen. I was exhausted so I just sat on the rocks taking it all in, and reading a book.

That night I ended up meeting a group of really cool people at the hostel. There was a group of guys from England, two guys from Australia and two girls from Scotland. It was so crazy hearing all of our different versions of the same language - let's just say that I learned some *ahem* interesting new slang, and leave it at that!

I hung out with that group all day yesterday, and we went to Monaco, home of the famous Monte Carlo casino! All in all, I didn't really like the town - it's really expensive, filled with Ferraris and Louis Vuitton. Blech. I'm actually not going to say much else about Monaco but I'll share this cool picture that I took outside of the casino.


Today, today was amazing. I teamed up with another lone traveler - Daniel from Ecuador. First, we made a trip to the Nice fruit and flower market. Oh, it was amazing. Blocks and blocks of fresh fruit, vegetables, olives, cheese, bread, flowers, honey, pastries, mmmmm. I wanted to buy everything, but I settled for peaches, some enormous figs, a baguette, and a tiny little pot of Miel de Lavande, lavender honey. Then we decided to get lost for a little while, exploring the tiny crowded streets of Nice and all of their hidden treasures. There's something about this place - I'm definitely coming back.

We left Nice (with some hesitation) and went to the port town of Villefranche, which I immediately fell in love with.


We spent most of the day on the beach, swimming and soaking up the sun (by soaking up, I mean deflecting with about ten pounds of spf 50) then went to explore the Fort of Mont Alban. I guess Villefranche used to be an important military and naval base pre-18th century. Now, the fort is just a tourist attraction, although we were literally the only two people in there. There was an amazing hidden garden and a lot of really interesting art. It was a really cool place, made even cooler by the fact that it was completely deserted. There was also an outdoor stage - I guess they have concerts there now! Most recently, there was a breath-taking performance of "Crazy American Attempts Ballet."

It got rave reviews... :)

We got back to Nice about an hour before sunset and still had some time to kill before Daniel needed to leave. He's about to return home to Ecuador after studying in Wales for a year - he had a lot of advice to give me and it was really cool to see how excited he is about going home, knowing that I'll feel that way too! Anyway, we spent his last few hours here at the beach in Nice (the pebbly one) and swam in the perfect blue water. It was so beautiful, I was really tempted to extend my stay here. I think I could have stayed on that beach forever.

I've been feeling a little bit guilty being in a country where I don't speak the language at all. After my adventures today, though, I'm determined to come back here to live for a while. I find myself speaking combining the 10 words of french that I know into ridiculous sentences, just because I love the way the words roll off my tongue. "Merci, bonjour, je suis le baguette s'il vous plait, je ne sais pas et je ne sais qua? Soixante euro et bonsoir madmoiselle!!" I can't wait until I can actually speak french. It's ridiculous, I'm a hopeless language fanatic. I guess it's a good thing I'm a linguistics major and world traveler!

Bonsoir!

Temple Bar bar

I returned to Allison's flat in Dublin last night after my Galway adventures came to a close. She took me out for a night on the town in the neighborhood called Temple Bar, which I mentioned in my previous post. If anyone back home isn't sure whether or not the drunken Irish stereotypes are true, let me assure you: in this neighborhood, they are. The streets were crowded with groups of drunk people singing traditional drinking songs and less traditional drinking songs, i.e. Oasis' "Wonderwall."

Oasis is big here. Really, really big. Almost scary big.


*Allison, Italian friend Edoardo, Irish friend Dara, and me in front of Temple Bar bar in Temple Bar neighborhood. Yeah, people actually say "Temple Bar bar." Allison and I were sober - Edoardo and Dara were definitely not. I have a great video of them singing a very drunken duet (Oasis, of course).

This morning, we went to Dun Laoghaire ("Dun Leery"), which is a town not too far from Dublin. The "Festival of World Cultures" is going on there this weekend, which turned out to be really awesome. The highlight for me was a bagpipe group which played alongside a rambunctious Spanish percussion group and an Irish punk band. The result was a musical blend unlike anything I'd ever heard before. I really don't know how to describe it!


The worst (and by worst I mean most traumatizing) part of the festival was an event in People's Park. It was a kid's event, and a giant man on stilts and his tiny ghoulish comrade practically assaulted me, screeching and grabbing at my sweater like a couple of screeching, sweater-grabbing demons. I cried out "I don't like you at ALL!" and they continued their attack shouting "why you no like, why you no like" until I managed to escape. I took this photo of the giant later, without getting too close. I don't know why they think small children would enjoy that kind of terror.


I guess he doesn't look too bad here, but remember that he was screeching. Absolutely terrifying. Also, I may have been a little jittery... Irish tea is apparently quite caffeinated - something I didn't realize until I had finished an entire pot.

Since it was pouring rain, we returned to Dublin before the festival ended. We decided to cook dinner, which turned out to be the best meal I've had since arriving in Ireland. Vegetables with curry and rice. Mmmm. I literally haven't eaten a single vegetable since arriving here, (unless you count potato?) so my poor tummy was begging for some rabbit food. There isn't a lot of produce on most restaurant menus here. In fact, there's no produce on most restaurant menus.

Oh, which reminds me. Mini rant time: all of the produce in Irish grocery stores is individually wrapped. Plastic-wrapped tomatoes on styrofoam trays, plastic-wrapped zucchini. Each eggplant comes in its own individual plastic bag. I can't believe the amount of waste that this creates! The grocery stores encourage the use of reusable bags, but wrap each eggplant in loads of plastic. I can't believe it. Also, there are no recycling bins which actually caused me physical pain. Berkeley should teach Ireland a thing or two about being eco-friendly!

Rant over, back to the point: the meal. Words can't do it justice, but how about this:


Can you taste the curry goodness? I didn't realize how much I missed my veggies until the post-meal food coma ensued. What a beautiful feeling.

Galway Hooker

Yesterday, I took a train all the way across Ireland! It took 2 hours! Ha, I arrived in Galway in the afternoon, a smallish town on the west coast of Ireland. I can't post pictures from this computer but they'll come eventually. Galway is really beautiful, right on the Atlantic Ocean. When I first arrived, I was pretty tired so I dropped off my things at a hostel and went for a walk through the town. The main street was filled with cool sights - street musicians, people selling art and jewelry, shops and pubs. So many pubs (I'm thinking that most of the streets in Ireland are pub-filled)! I came to a river which was crowded with people, all drinking, eating, playing music - just having a good time. I was taking pictures of the scene when an older gentleman named Daithi (Gaelic equivalent of David) offered to take a picture with me in it. David, a Galway local, was showing his friend Lee around, who was visiting him from England. I joined the two of them for a walk down the coast - it was absolutely beautiful. They joked that I must have brought the sun with me from California! I guess it's been raining so much this summer that there have been flash floods all over Ireland.

After I parted ways with David and Lee, I went back to the hostel to eat dinner and tried to mingle. For some reason though, my fellow hostellers weren't interested in mingling. Maybe I had something in my teeth. Finally I managed to strike up a conversation with an American named Kane, who has spent practically his entire life traveling the world. He's been all over Europe, is currently living in Ireland and will soon be going to college in Australia. He's traveled so much, in fact, that he has this crazy pseudo-Irish/Australian accent. Since he's lived here for quite a while, he showed me around to his favorite pubs, told me which beers to get (I highly recommend the Galway Hooker) and told me one of his favorite games to play while traveling - getting drunk tourists to believe outlandish stories. By the end of the night, most of Galway's tourist population knew us as Kalen and Kane, siamese twins from Arkansas. We were joined at the shoulder at birth, but are finally enjoying our independence from one another after a very extensive surgery. Ha! Needless to say, it was a very fun night.

Today, however, things got a little tricky. I had been planning to go to the Aran Islands, which are known for being incredibly beautiful. There are ruins and cathedrals and all that - I figured it would be a great photo op. Unfortunately, the only option for visiting the islands required returning to Galway at 7PM, and I had already booked a train ticket at 6PM. I decided to roll with the punches, and caught a bus heading toward the Cliffs of Moher instead (huge cliffs towering 277 meters over the ocean). Here's where the going got tough. Or, more accurately, the going got nauseating.

First of all, the bus driver was a lunatic. Second, we were driving down narrow, bumpy, winding roads through the hills of the Irish countryside. Third, the speed limit on these narrow, bumpy, winding roads through the hills of the Irish countryside was 100 km/hr. Now, maybe something gets lost in the conversion there, but I'm pretty sure that's just a ridiculous speed for roads like these. Oh, and did I mention the round-a-bouts? Irish people love their round-a-bouts! This trip was like tilt-o-whirl meets roller coaster meets tumble cycle on my dryer. Anyone who knows me knows that most the kiddie rides at the fair will make me puke, so they'll understand that I couldn't deal with this situation. It was awful. Ok, granted, the couple of pints of I drank last night definitely weren't helping the situation.

I thought it would be really cool to vomit off the Cliffs of Moher, so I really tried to make it through the insanity of the ride. I ended up feeling too nauseous to continue, though, and decided to get off the bus in a town called Burren to take a breather and wait for the next bus, which was scheduled to arrive an hour later. What I didn't know is that apparently "schedule" is a very loose term here. I waited for three hours, but the bus never came. It was actually fun- the weather was beautiful and I met a bunch of really interesting people at the bus stop. I met one man who drives a bank! There are all these tiny little towns that don't have banks, so he drives a mobile bank from town to town. He also has relatives all over the world, in the U.S., in France, England, South America; he even has a nephew who's a general in the army of India!

Anyway, just when I was on the verge of almost not enjoying myself any more (due to the worries about missing my train), I saw a group of french students around my age that I recognized from my hostel! We started talking and they told me that they'd just come from the Cliffs. When I told them I wouldn't be able to make it, they gave me a souvenir keychain that they'd bought there! They ended up giving me a ride back to the hostel, with plenty of time to spare before my train leaves. (Just enough time to write this entry, isn't that perfect?)

So I didn't really get to see anything that I planned on seeing, and I didn't get to puke off of 277 meter high cliffs (that's honestly what I'm most disappointed about, haha) but I had a lot of great conversations and got to be a siamese twin for a night. Totally worth the trip.

Don't let the bedbugs bite!

Ha! To all those who doubted me, I'd like to say "I told you so!" Hehe, everything is working out perfectly here. Allison (the aforementioned friend I'm staying with) is fantastic, she took me around the city yesterday and bought me my first pint of Guinness. Her flat is gorgeous, with amazing views of Dublin from all sides and an awesome rooftop patio area. Her roommates Julien and Mattheu are awesome too. I'm parting ways with them for the next few days, to travel over to the west coast of Ireland but hopefully we'll meet up again this weekend.

Before meeting up with her, I took a day trip to a nearby town called Howth. I was planning on doing all that other stuff I mentioned, but I made a last minute change of plans. (I think from now on I'll only write about stuff after I do it, considering I have a tendency to change my mind.)

Back to the point - Howth is a tiny little fishing town at the end of the DART line (Dublin Area Rapid Transit! I kept accidentely calling it "BART" which resulted in lots of funny looks....) Haha, I spent the morning walking around the piers, laughing at the cooky sea lions while enjoying the smell of the salty air and the sight of the fishing boats (and of course the crazy irishmen driving them).




I stumbled into a small cafe which turned out to be owned by two italian guys, and frequented by dozens of italian regulars. They all thought I was pretty cool - an American girl, traveling alone in Ireland, speaking Italian. Anyway, I stayed there for several hours and made a lot of friends. They bought me lunch and a glass of wine, and gave me tons of advice about what to do/see/eat once I arrive in Italy. I felt really comfortable talking with everyone, which makes me feel less nervous about the next year.

One particularly crazy old italian man named Daniele offered to give me a ride back to Dublin in his unmarked white van and didn't seem to understand why I thought that was a bad idea. He finally gave in and settled for walking me back to the DART station, haha. Crazy italians. I'm sure he was nice enough but if he didn't kill me, my mom would for accepting a ride from him, so I decided to play it safe!

Oh, the craziest part of my trip so far, not to mention the grossest: I stayed in the cheapest hostel I could find on my first night in Dublin, and it wasn't exactly a picture of cleanliness. The next day I had all these little bug bites all over my feet and legs, and I couldn't figure out for the life of me how I'd gotten them, since I was under the covers. I figured they were just mosquito bites (but smaller and itchier) until Allison informed me that she knows several people who have been attacked by bedbugs in Dublin hostels.

Bedbugs. I didn't even think they existed! Warn your children! It's not just a myth!

Anyway, I bought some anti-itch cream and I'll be sleeping in my sleeping bag from now on. Lesson learned.