five days time

Sitting on the couch in my parents living room.  Been in Atlanta for five days now and still haven’t managed to wrap my mind around this past year.  On paper, it seems so outrageous.  This unsustainable life that went on longer than I probably deserve.  I fear becoming one of those annoying people who manage to relate every conversation back to “this one time when I was traveling in such and such, such and such did the funniest such and such…it was awesome, but I guess you really had to be there.”  Thank god for this blog, so that maybe I won’t feel so inclined to repeat many of the experiences I wrote about.  Reintegrating myself back into family life has been completely fine.  Seamless, in fact.  Everything’s as if I never left.  It’s like the days before I left have been mirrored onto these past few.  My room is still in shambles…full of boxes, suitcases, and scattered clothes.  I’ve met with many of the same people for meals and words…hello’s in place of goodbye’s.  And I’m still in this kind of in between place, waiting to get somewhere else.  For now, that other place is Chapel Hill.  After spending the 4th of July in Highlands, I’ll be moving back into The Blue House (with some new and old housemates) and will hopefully find some sort of employment to carry me through the summer.  Or that’s the plan anyways.

I just re-read that list I made of all the things I missed about life in America.  Let’s see…I’m on the couch as we speak, and it’s more comfortable than I remembered.  I’m waiting to reinstate Netflix when I get back to the Blue House(<-also where my bike will be waiting).  I’ve had sushi twice and sweated through a non-air-conditioned dinner at Panahar tonight.  Mom and I went for a much-needed manicure on my first day back, and the heat lightning that lit up the sky last night was a site for sore eyes.  Regarding my clothes:  I made it to Goodwill on my second day back, but mostly to drop off bags of unwanted stuff.  Coming back and seeing everything I lived without made me really stressed by how immobile my life is.  With who knows how many moves ahead of me, I think it’s a good time to start giving my closet a deep cleansing.  Also, I’m trying to go through the thousands of photos I took over the last 10 months and pick out some to print.  I went into this project with the mindset that I would only choose the ones that I absolutely love.  I’m about halfway through and already have 237.  This is going to be one expensive photo album.  I’m excited to get up to the mountains this weekend, to see my friends who are meeting me and also to get outta this awful heat.  Grunting complaints escape my mouth every time I walk outside.  It really is hot as hell here.   And my discontent is only partly amplified by the contrast to English weather.  I know this because I can hear everyone else complaining just as much.  I attempted to run outside a few times, but I think I scared the housekeeper today when I came inside and began marching circles around the kitchen with a wet paper towel on my head and my hands fanning around my bright red face, panting and wheezing all the while.

Ok, I’ve been watching The Graduate while writing this, and it’s getting to the part where Benjamin breaks up the wedding.  So that’s my cue to go.

on the road: Somewhere over the Atlantic

Farewell Florence Road

Writing on the airplane here from Heathrow to Newark.  I’m five hours, two movies, and one terrible meal into the flight.  We had to sit on the plane for about an hour before takeoff because the flight needed a different captain who was more familiar with the aircraft.  So that’s always reassuring.  I’m just hoping the delay won’t prevent me from making my connection in Newark, especially since I have to get my luggage and go through customs during the layover.  Speaking of luggage, I am absolutely amazed they let me on the plane.  I was definitely pushing the limits on every size and weight constraint possible.  Thank god they don’t weigh carry-on bags, because I put all my shoes, purses, and belts into mine and I’m pretty sure it weighs more than my checked luggage.  Coming over here, I checked two suitcases and carried on my backpack and a large tote that can hardly qualify as a “personal item.”  For the journey back, I bought an enormous £10 duffle so I could make sure to fit in all the coats and sweaters that were mailed to me once I’d arrived.  The backpack was then packed within the duffle, and my smaller suitcase became my carry-on.  I think I’m getting good at this.  Granted, I can’t move an inch without a luggage cart, but that hasn’t been a problem thus far.  This whole week of packing and arguing with myself over what I could bare to leave behind has been tough, but it had to be done.  Thankfully, one of my flatmates had this amazing luggage weighing contraption that allowed me to fill both checked bags to precisely 50.5lbs (they usually let that half pound slide).  Investing in one of these is a must for any traveler.  Gone are the days of weighing myself and then subtracting that from the weight of myself while holding my suitcase and desperately trying not to fall over sideways…probably causing future back problems all the while.  The fact that I’m on my way to the US is too weird.  The week after Italy was bittersweet and full of goodbyes.  A few of my friends left before me, while others are staying till the end of the summer or even till the end of their degrees.  I’m happy I left somewhere in the middle.  That way I don’t have to stay and endure the unending sequence of goodbye gatherings.  I’m not good at goodbyes, but I’m excellent at see ya later’s, which is the most I could hope for anyways.  I spent my last day in Brighton walking around and getting a good last look.  I turned in my house keys and walked out on the pier, refusing to leave before riding “The Booster”, AKA- the scariest ride on Brighton’s seafront.  “The Booster” whips you up into the sky in great giant circles, while your own chair simultaneously flips around and around in smaller, yet doubly dizzying loops.  After all, upside down is the only appropriate way to get that perfect final view of the city and sea.  The day ended with a single English pint at our neighborhood pub.  And That was That.  I had previously warned my friends not to be pissed off if I didn’t cry when I left, given that I’m generally not very sentimental about goodbyes.   But I swear to them now that there was at least one tear (or maybe just watery eyes) while the bus pulled out of Brighton this morning, and I can’t believe I won’t be seeing them tomorrow, or the next day.  But don’t think I’m gonna forget about our scheduled 2010 reunion in Mexico, that is unless Andrea’s wedding comes first!

Now the question of whether or not this is my last blog post:  I’ll probably do a follow-up post or two, but I’m not sure about after that.  I’ve gotten lots of encouraging words to keep it up, but I’m afraid my post-study abroad life would put people to sleep.  After all, it was intended as a travel blog.  I guess I’ll wait and see if the mood strikes, or maybe I’ll make a new one.  Regardless, I can’t emphasize enough how much I’ve enjoyed writing about my experience, and I want to thank everyone for keeping up with me through this long journey.

Signing out,
Sarah

we’ll always have Italy

Once again, I feel like there’s way to much to say and nowhere to start.  Don’t worry, this post won’t be about pizza (although it’s tempting).  Italy was a dream.  What a beautiful place, and no destination disappointed.  Everywhere we went, there was an astounding number of Americans.  It makes sense really.  Italy feels far away and  foreign, but not foreign enough to feel threatening.  I think Americans like that kind of exotic familiarity.  I only had a few bouts of language difficulties, but we could always speak Spanish and get by because the languages are so similar.  With Italian cuisine to top it all off, what could be better?  Looking back at my pictures, it’s kinda impossible to choose some favorites.  Maybe that means I’m getting better at taking them… but it sure does make a brief restructuring of my trip difficult.  We started in Venice, which like everywhere else, surpassed my expectations.  I’m not sure who was whispering these terrible depictions in my ear while throwing around words like “dirty”, “crowded”, and “expensive,” but the Venice I saw was all around lovely.  Maybe this is partly due to the fact that a former resident of our house in Brighton had moved back to her home in a town outside of Venice and was happy to show us around.  This means we didn’t fall victim to the greatest danger of The Floating City…getting lost.  We stayed at a really terrible hostel in Mestre, just a short bus rise from Venice.  I’m particularly bitter about this place because it’s where Jorge’s boots were stolen and I was bitten excessively by bugs in the night.  Remember those “mutant mosquito bites” I mentioned?  Well, by the time I got to Florence they had become enormous, complete with giant swollen rings around them.  I thought about uploading a picture of my legs, but I don’t wanna freak anyone out.  This Australian doctor/lawyer named Will, who was staying in our Cinque Terre hostel and who popped up again in Florence,  told me to take some anti-histamines, and the itchiness and swelling retreated almost immediately.  Thank god for doctors who like to travel by motorbike and stay in hostels.

I love this photo of Venice because it looks like it could be a painting or a postcard from a hundred years ago.

Ok, back to Venice.  I’d never seen anywhere so beautiful, and the pizzas we had there were the best of the trip [Sardines and eggplant = new favorite pizza toppings].   Our flight to Venice was at 6am, so we had to go all the way to Stansted airport the night before.  We took the train to London, but managed to miss our bus to the airport, and ended up having to sleep on the cement ground at the bus station outside of a closed Subway (the sandwich shop, not the underground).  At one point, a police officer  came by and ordered us to move in fear that other bums would congregate to sleep.  Kind of a funny moment.  We caught the next bus to the airport about 4 hours later and still made it in time for our flight.  I couldnt wait to get some sleep on the plane.  I was completely out before take-off, only to wake up to the  jerk of the plane on the ground in Italy.  Luckily the shocking beauty of Venice kept me awake through the day, and I only resorted to taking one short nap against a pillar in Piazza San Marco.  Our second day in Venice was a long one.  We were taking a 3am train out of Venice, and once again found ourselves spending the midnight hours on the floor of a station.  We’d been traveling three nights so far, and only one was spent in a bed.  Regardless of the exhaustion, we were on our way Cinque Terre and I couldn’t have been more excited.

playing with the pigeons in Piazza San Marco

The overnight journey to Cinque Terre was another sleepless night.  We had to make 3 train changes and had several station layovers.  But when we got into the Monterosso train station around 10 the next morning, the cliff side views of the sea snapped us out of our sleepwalking state.  Thankfully, we had the day to relax and a good night’s sleep ahead of us before embarking on the hike between the five towns. We spent the day at the beach in both Riomaggiore (the last town in which we were staying) and Monterosso (the first and most touristy town).

rock carving in Monterosso

I was a little surprised by just how touristy Cinque Terre was in general.  I’d assumed it would’ve been a little more off the beaten track.  But no, it’s full of tourists just as eager to get out of the cities as I was.  We stayed in a hostel which was more of an apartment.  I guess the company rents out beds in little apartments scattered throughout Riomaggiore, but we definitely lucked out in our placement.  It wasn’t too high up on the hills and we shared the place with some great people who were eager to cook big meals of pasta each night and drink some cheap Italian wine.  Five bottles being passed around a four person table till the wee hours of the morning probably wasn’t the best idea the night before hiking, but how could I go to bed with such great conversation and a terrace view like this?… 

We managed to get up the next morning and took the train to Monterosso to start the hike.  That side of the hike is much more difficult and we wanted to get it over with before the heat set in.  It was a good idea to start early because we could take our time to stop and check out each town along the way.  I’ll let the pictures speak for themselves…

Monterosso beach, where we started the hike

Second town- Vernazza

Cinque Terre cats have it good

Stopped for a swim in Vernazza

Made it to Corniglia

Almost done in Manarola

The final leg was between Manarola and Riomaggiore.  It’s more of a stroll than a hike and a good portion of the paved path is littered with padlocks.  This trend of putting locks on bridges was something I noticed all around Italy.  Our Italian friend Annalisa had mentioned that it all started because of a popular Italian movie in which two lovers attach a padlock to a bridge in Rome as a sign of eternal love.  Here’s a New York Times article about the phenomenon in Rome.  The spreading popularity of the act seems to have caused damage to the structures, but it was charming to see the path (which is appropriately called Via dell’Amore) covered with the signs of love.  It seemed “so Italian,” a phrase we used to describe every public display of affection witnessed throughout the trip.

After having to leave Cinque Terre behind, we headed towards Florence…but not without a quick pit stop in Pisa on the way.  We’d heard there was this famous tower there, but when we got there it was broken!  Imagine that.

I mean it really does lean, like a lot.  We had to take one of these typical pictures.  Unfortunately, Jorge was too photographically challenged to take a proper one of me.  I guess I’ll survive.  When I say we stopped in Pisa, I mean we hopped off the train for an hour, looked at the tower, and then ran back to the station in time to catch the next train to Florence.  There wasn’t much else to see, and it was too much of a hassle to run around with our luggage.   In Florence, we explored the entire town in the first night.  It’s a really charming place, and I can certainly understand why it’s one of the most popular study abroad destinations at UNC.  Again, lots of Americans..which can mostly be identified by their whiny voices complaining about bad restaurant service.  Oh well.  We went to the Uffizi Gallery on our last morning in Florence, which is one of the oldest art museums in the Western world.  Other than that, we just shopped around, ate, and enjoyed the people watching.  I’m pretty sure The Sartorialist was there at the time because of Pitti Uomo, a famous Florence menswear show.  I kept thinking about what I would do if I ran into Scott Schuman and decided that I probably wouldn’t say anything because I’d be too embarrassed by my backpacking attire.  Silly, I know.

Walking across the Ponte Vecchio

That’s me walking towards the Basilica di Santa Maria del Fiore

In Rome, the weather got hotter and the walking got longer.  Although it wasn’t my favorite city we visited, I definitely appreciated the sites.  Seeing so many things that I’d learned about in my dreaded Ancient Roman History class was cool.  The  city was incredibly crowded with tourists.  Although we got to the Vatican museum before it opened, we still had to wait in line for over an hour.  Still, the grandeur of everything was breathtaking and I had a great time poking fun at all the Catholic craziness (to the hilarity of my Mexican Catholic travel mate).  We treated ourselves to our one fancy dinner of the trip (which was still no more than 20 euros with wine and tiramisu), and  I had spaghetti with black truffle sauce.  Delish!

Jorge in front of the Trevi Fountain

Light in St. Peter’s Basilica (some might call this god)

I just realized that I didn’t put any pictures of Andrea in this post.  I swear she was on the trip too!  We have a few group shots, but I tend to be a little picky about pictures and I can’t choose one that I like.  If I had to choose, here’s one of the three of us in Florence…but I’m not really sure why we took a picture there because the background is terrible. Oh well, I think we all look nice and happy, which was the general demeanor of the trip.  It was a pleasure to travel with them and I’ll miss them both dearly when I’m gone.

But we’ll always have Italy.

on the road: Rome

or
“You scream, I scream, we all scream for…gelato?”
or
“L’Arte del Gelato”

So I’ve got 20 minutes on this horrible hostel computer to talk about Rome, but really…who wants to hear about Rome when we could talk about gelato?  Seriously.  Jorge, Andrea, and I agreed on our first day in Venice to have a gelato every day of our trip with the added stipulation that we couldn’t try the same flavor twice.  I’ve been here eight days so far, and let’s be honest… my first day attempt at getting a single scoop cone didn’t last long.  That means that I’ve tried 15 flavors so far.  Through this process (and undoubtedly important life experience) I have developed a fail safe series of suggestions for creating the perfect cone.  Firstly, the flavors should complement each other without overwhelming the other.  Three flavors is too hectic, while one is just plain boring.  Secondly, always go for the cone when possible.  I used to be a cup person, but there’s something about eating gelato out of a cup in Italy that just feels wrong.   I started off the trip with a single scoop of Cafe (also known as…Coffee).  This decision was most likely propelled by the fact that I had spent the previous night sleeping on the floor outside of a Subway Sandwich shop in London (but that’s another story).  On day 2 in Venice, I had my best cone thus far.  I really hope I didn’t peak too early…but nothing has beaten my amaretto/banana combination…not to mention the fact that it was from a famously old gelato shop on the lagoon (I would have written down the name if I wasn’t so preoccupied with the danger of gelato meltage). I faltered a bit through Cinque Terre.  The heat and hiking made me go for the fruity flavors, and I’ve formed the opinion that double fruit is no good.  For example: combining coconut with mango definitely inhibited my overall mango enjoyance, as the coconut was too much after a few bites or licks or whatever.  I’d heard of the famous Florence gelato and although the prices were steeper, it did not disappoint.  I was delighted to find the elusive walnut flavor that Id heard so much about.  It was…

[This is where my twenty minutes on the computer ran out.  In retrospect, I got a little carried away with the gelato post...so I'll try to finish this up succinctly and without making myself miss Italy too much more]

I have no idea what I was about to say about the walnut gelato.  Probably something along the lines of “mmmmm, omg, mmmmmmmmm.”  In Rome, we were lucky to find a famous gelato shop called Il Gelato di San Crispino.  This was a definite highlight of my mini Italian gelato tour.  Oftentimes considered the best gelateria in Rome, San Crispino is tucked away on a little street near the Trevi Fountain.  The first time we went (yes, we went twice), I got pistachio and bourbon.  They have crazy flavors like Armagnac, Ginger Cinnamon, Whisky, Walnut and Dried Fig, and fruit flavors that change seasonally and are made from specifically chosen imported fruit.  Their pistachio has crunchy bits in it and  is more grey than green (which is reassuring because I’ve always wondered why pistachio ice cream is mint green).  On our last day in Rome, we made a quick stop at the shop on our way home.  I got apple and their original honey flavor appropriately titled “Il Gelato di San Crispino.”  I had to get a cup because they don’t even offer cones (which would be upsetting if the gelato wasn’t so damn good).  Anyways, the point is that this final gelato was the best of my entire trip.  Their fruit flavors are so dense.   The apple was like a delicious homemade apple sauce/ice cream hybrid, and the combination of apple and honey was better than the real thing on Rosh Hashanah.  As made evident by the amaretto/banana and apple/honey combinations, I have changed my former preference for not mixing cream and fruit flavors.  Turns out, you just have to find the right balance.

[Update:  Annalisa has informed me that the gelateria in Venice is called "Gelateria da Nico."  Try the amaretto!]

on the road: Florence

Sorry for the non-existant Italy blogging. Perhaps my lack of internet activity is indicative of how amazing this country is. Or maybe it just proves that Im incapable of prying the gelato and pizza out of my hands long enough to type a coherent sentence (ughhh, Im on another one of those keyboards where I cant find the apostrophe sign). In case you missed the post title, Im in Florence. I REALLY did not want to leave Cinque Terre this morning, but we had to move on. I couldve spent a week there doing the various hikes and relaxing on the beach. It was the first trip that felt like a vacation, as Ive come to discover that a serious distinction exists between the relaxing nature of vacation versus the inherent stress of traveling. Besides an attack by mutant mosquitos in Venice, everything has been moving along swimmingly. Lots of pictures to come upon my return, but for now Im absolutely knackered and need to sleep.

Buona Notte!

a little bit of nothing

Just baked chocolate chip cookies for my house. I believe the general reaction was- “Why would you keep these from us all this time?!?” I’m not really sure, especially considering my frequent damnation of “biscuits,” these hard wannabe-cookie crackers that are so popular in England. This company called Ben’s Cookies is basically the salvation of England’s poor cookie status. I first tried a Ben’s Cookie in Bath and was exceptionally pleased to hear that there was a location in Brighton. I cannot walk down Duke Street without getting a Coconut cookie. It is physically impossible. We NEED to get this cookie shop in the US! Unfortunately, I have a feeling that Americans might overlook their amazingness in favor of the massive cookie cake slices available at your nearest shopping mall. Listen to me…only been here nine months and I’m already referring to Americans as Americans.

In other news: I’m leaving for Italy tonight. Well, technically I’m leaving for the airport tonight and won’t actually fly to Italy till the morning. I have to leave tonight because my flight is too early to take public transport to the airport. Nothing like a good night’s sleep on an airport floor! Sorry for the lack of interesting blogging lately. I went to London for the day on Tuesday…but other than that, I’ve just been enjoying myself in Brighton. In London it rained, rained, rained…what a surprise. But Estrella and I managed to get some really cheap tickets to see Chicago, so that was a nice opportunity of escape from under my umbrella.

Regent’s Park

Ok, time to pack!

glimpse of summer

Well, as expected, the beautiful weather has passed and the clouds have once again reclaimed their spot in the sky.  But I can still look at pictures and remember how wonderful it once was…

I was cleaning out my wallet yesterday when I found a little slip of paper I’d used to jot down the names of various places I’d been on my trip to Spain and Morocco.  This reminded me that I never actually wrote about Madrid, Marrakech, and Sevilla (besides the little updates from the road).  I know I said that I would go back and write about these trips when I found the time, but it’s a good bet that that’s not gonna happen.  I tried to sit down yesterday to do it but didn’t make any progress.  I feel like writing about it so long after the fact kinda defeats the purpose of blogging.  So anyways, at least now I’ll have something left to tell people about when I’m back.