Being in a land where everyone corrects your English when you’re from America probably sounds really annoying, but it was hands down one of the top experiences of my life.
I can’t even fathom what a blessed person I am yet how unlucky I am in other parts of my life. Mostly I am blessed because so far I’ve had two incredibly families host me at their houses. Granted for Christmas, Carol’s family hosted me for over three weeks, which is a really impressive task. I can’t say thank you to them enough.
My situation with Anna is equally perplexing because she lived in Verona for a month, two months, tops and when I mentioned visiting, she invited me to stay at her place, with no hesitation.9
I wrote this 3 months ago and forgot to publish it. *Sigh*
I am in America now and I nearly shattered my heart in the process.
Leaving Italy was way harder than I imagined.
My roommates and I had one last hoorah, a trip to Rimini, Italy with some of their friends. While there they apologized for not coming home with me, and whether I’d be okay packing alone during my last two days. I’m positive my response was a scoff of a sweet nature. There was nothing conceivable difficult about returning home and packing.
The trip had its ups and downs, but after pressuring my introverted self to stop being such a downer, I had such a tender time. Again, with a few ups and downs for the other people on the trip.
The first day, Thursday was decent, spent the day at the beach, a piadina for dinner. How I’ll miss piadine. Half of us spent the night walking around Rimini and along the beach. We settled down by a beach bar where two of the guys got the most amazing drink called a Pescita. I was audibly a huge fan. Two ingredients, peach (pesca) vodka and a lemon soda. Lemon soda is like Sprite, without the Lime, without the Drake endorsement, but so so so much more flavorful. From me that is saying a lot because Sprite has been my favorite soda since I was three.
There we sat, listening to the infinite loop of American songs that played, with our shoes off, in the sand chilled by the night time air. The sand was everything that night. It was so cold that you couldn’t tell if it was wet and then eventually it just felt like you were walking on water. Maybe I’m exaggerating, but it was glorious.
Afterward, we walked home on a 30-minute walk that undoubtedly killed our feet. We made it home around 3 am, so you can imagine why I was pissed the next day when everyone was up and running at 7:30 in the morning.
There was breakfast included in the hotel fees so I got over it and chowed down.
Friday, we spent the entire day at the beach. There’s really not much to say about the day except that my beach volleyball game has gotten quite better. Other then hitting it into the air and only looking horizontally for it, it think everyone was impressed with my progress from my first game (our water park trip a month prior).
We waited for Carol’s friend Alessandro to arrive and enjoy the beach for a while, so we ended up eating only at 10 o’clock. And here I think we’ve stumbled on my least favorite attribute of Italy – late eating. How early I had dinner was laughable to so many people.
After dinner, this was one of the first nights out. We went to a place called Riccione, which was… interesting. I won’t go into too many of the bad details, but in summation boundaries were cheekily tested and the music was god awful. I would get excited to hear a Bruno Mars song or any song I could sing along to, even Wonderwall, only for the beat to drop and it turn into a techno song. Even Carol, the dancing fanatic, got tired of it really quickly.
The winning moment of the night, was seeing her friend Marco steal the show with his happiness. Out of nowhere this boy went from having an okay time to and absolute sunshine. Locking his arm with another girl’s he spun around in circles or sporadically he’d break out into a classic Irish dance. When this happened, me and Carol just sat, cheering him on and happy to see him so happy.
The night ended around 5 am. That’s how they roll.
Saturday was another beach day, but it was really nice. Carol’s friend who speaks the least English always tries his best to speak with me and it’s really sweet. With him I get classic conversations like-
“Tamera, what does Washington D.C. mean?”
“District of Columbia.”
“Oh. I thought- ‘Department Center.'”
or
*he’s drinking tea*
me: what are you drinking?
A: The sea.
And the other Alessandro, who didn’t even know my name two days prior started calling me Tammy, out of nowhere. Incredibly endearing, if not for the fact that we had been in each other’s acquaintance circles for the past 8 months.
After a long time in the sun and finally showering, after planning to eat around 8 or 9, we still ended up eating at 10. I got pizza, and being unable to finish a whole pizza, ever, I stuffed the box in my purse and off we went to the next beach party. Marco did the thing where he gets an extroverted burst and started talking to a group of girls along the street. One was on the ground holding a pole, the other two enjoying the attention. Carol and I let them be.
We got to the center of the city and wait for them there. Eventually, after the police came and the girls denied them the ability to follow them home, the boys came back to us. We went to a couple places that I was not feeling, and just as I was about to cry about wanting to sleep, we got to a legitimate beach party. They didn’t play a single song I recognized, aside from Despacito, but it was okay. After ten minutes, no one squeezed my butt so that alone was a win. However, the greatest part, by far, was hearing the Italians cheer for their favorite classics. A song, probably from their childhood or teenage years would come on and the crowd went wild. So I was just swaying to the music, but I was so happy. There is where it hit me that I might not hear cheers from this passionate place in a really long time.
Eventually they started playing club-bangers and it was time to go home. We reached the hotel at 4:30.
Sunday was our final day and I didn’t really realized we’d be going to the beach again. I stuffed my face at breakfast and off to the beach we went.
There were slightly solemn undertones throughout the few hours we were at the beach. Carol told me a dozen stories and it was like a last-chance, get-them-while-you-still-can feel. Even though they were hilarious I was crying from the hilarity and the sadness in my heart. Stories like getting “pantsed” in middle school, her getting slapped by her mom on a cruise, her boyfriend “escaping” from home, all classic Carol stories that you don’t get anywhere else, because she finds them hilarious now too.
The most mystifying part of the last day, was that there were actual waves! I can swim in a beach with wave for the rest of my life and not get tired of it. So also imagine, while she’s telling me these stories, waves crashing into us. This day was so full of joy. One of my favorite days.
After lunch, it was time to head home so everyone could make their trains, Carol wasn’t in our car so I had to say bye to her there and then. So much water.
Once the long goodbye was over, we drove three hours back to Verona. Me and Franziska sang American classics the whole time, like Backstreet Boys, Bruno Mars and Linkin Park. Throughout the whole trip there were fields and fields of Sunflowers. I am officially obsessed. Even more beauty to add to the day.
I said bye to Franziska, Dario and Alessandro, more waterworks.
Marco dropped me off at home and said maybe we’ll see each other again with a heart-warming smile.
Then I walked into my empty apartment. I held it together for about an hour and then it there was just a strong, unyielding cloudburst of tears and emotions.
Paris is a vision of perfection and surprise. I think we were all aghast at how big the Eiffel Tower is in person. While that was spectacular, I found myself more bemused by the lesser fixated-on, such as the Arc de Triomphe.
We could even catch a peek of it from our hotel balcony.
The hotel was a fiasco of its own. Before coming, my friends said since they had an Airbnb room booked already my rooming would not be a problem, I was skeptical, but I let it go, because it’s a trip to Paris!
We get to the hotel at 12:30 am and immediately the receptionist says, “It’s a room for two, how many of you are there?” We skirted around the answer. I am already at the peak of my stress index. We get in the room and after 30 minutes, the man calls to give some information and ask if I am staying. Heart pounding I say, okay I’m gonna head to sleep, in case I get dragged out of here in the morning, which is a reasonable reaction.
We didn’t get that far. At 2:30 he calls again, not quite ready to drag, but with a concerned tone. He informs us about procedures, extra person fee, room limits and we resolve to resolve it in the morning and he lets us. He was actually really generous and understanding, but most importantly he didn’t come to snatch me out the room *thankful prayer hands*.
On our first real day, it’s really lovely. We take the subway and on our very first ride there was a man playing French music on a trumpet or some other instrument and it got me very hyped for the rest of the day. Then, we arrived at our destination station, headed to the Chapel of Notre Dame. Not to be too dramatic, but when I resurfaced from riding the underground subway, I really felt like I had been transported to this land of monuments, talented street performers and gorgeous buildings.
I watched this guy, in awe, for ten minutes straight.
Notre Dame was nice because it was free, but honestly I may have been more spellbound by the outside than the inside.
The inside was still pretty captivating. I loved stained glass so much.
After like a minute we walked back out and I noticed this bride was having some wedding photos taken. Mine are pretty blurry, but just for an idea.
Afterward, we went directly to the Eiffel Tower, well maybe we got a crepe first. At this point, France was starting to feel freezing for me and I began to miss my good ole scorching, Verona, but not too much.
This was the best photo I head of the Eiffel Tower on day one. Shortly afterward, it began to pour. We just went back to the hotel (they got me my own room for the night) and we used Buzzfeed to find where to go for dinner. However, two restaurants that said they were open ended up being closed, and that may be an important lesson to note for Paris, or maybe I’m just bad at choosing.
The end of May was met with one of the most greatly planned events of my time in Italy, thus far – the visiting of my college friends.
It was so great having that familial vibe that I haven’t had very often here. Except for with my roommates, when I went home with my roommate for Christmas and my friend I made at work. Okay, there have been quite a few, but this was true comfort – 100 percent of my jokes were gotten without any cultural barriers and it was refreshing. In the defense of the barriers, those can build, in confusion, on top of the regular jokes and become embarrassing jokes of their own and are sometimes equally as enjoyable.
Anyway, it was so soothing having my friends here- taking them around on the bus, showing them my favorite gelateria, exploring my favorite Verona gems, letting them see me speak my broken Italian.
Day 1
First stop was Castelvecchio, the pinnacle of Verona monuments. We skipped the museum because religious art has me like, “new phone who dis.”
Day 2
The second day in addition to all the fun and games the heat in Verona was starting to get to ridiculous so they urged me to get a fan and it’s probably the best fifteen euros I’ve ever spent in my life. Probably the best 15 anything I’ve ever spent. My roommate made delicious Tiramisu and invited all of us to her birthday celebration by the lake, a very kind gesture, as always, from that girl. My friends and I spent the night, telling each other jokes and even ghost stories and singing the theme song to Reading Rainbow over and over again. Also during dinner, one of Carol’s friends kept trying to tell us ridiculous stories, but I actually really appreciated it because I on previous group outings, I typically get ignored. He also, through trying to speak to us in English, taught my friends Italian words.
“Lucy…”
*forgets how to say what he wants*
“…aspetta.”
(Lucy….hold on).
A huge chunk of our time was spent like this, but it was endearing.
We also spent a hilarious amount of time laughing at the Italian word for stop/enough – Basta. Definitely my favorite Italian word.
Day 3
The third day we went to Venice and even though I have been their numerous (2) times, going there with them was a new experience in its own.
Day 4
Their fourth and final day had me in my feelings. We were trying our best to explore a little more, check out some more bakeries, but make it home in time for them to pack for Paris. While walking I had to ask, “are you sure your flight is today?” They looked at me and laughed, but then they answered, you could come with us to Paris. It might have been a joke, but immediately I think we all cocked our heads and realized that was actually possible.
However, even with European plane tickets being insanely cheap it was still the day of the flight. We get back home and look at the flights and I am just immediately crushed because it is way out of my price range. My friend doesn’t give up hope and her boyfriend just says, “so we’re going to get you a ticket.”
In that moment I definitely felt many emotions. 1- guilt, 2- excitement, 3- embarrassment, 4- excitement. I am slightly ashamed that I let it happen, but in the end, it was an incredible experience and I owe them the hugest debt of gratitude amongst many other things.
Ahh okay, this was a phenomenal weekend. I’m not sure if all this nature is taking a toll on my many readers, but even if you don’t care to read, maybe just peruse the pictures. Oh and I remembered to bring my GoPro-like camera so get ready for some…pretty sophomoric/fumbling video footage, with an air of sweetness.
The day started a little after seven, making it the third Sunday in one month that I’ve gotten up before 8. Whaaa?
Alex and I partook in one of our, now infamous (in my head), Sunday outings. This time to the opposite side of Garda Lake, Beschia side. Popular opinion says it’s the best side.
One day I’ll make a proper video of my “escapades” in Italy. Until then, there will be video pickings trickling throughout my posts.
Trying to find the trail, we stop by this lovely church with a really cool art gallery. Alex and I spent a good ten minutes admiring the art until we turned our heads and noticed this incredible terrarium with the oddest pair of animals – turtles and guinea pigs.
Sometimes I’m not sure what the churches here are trying to achieve.
This place was so beautiful. I invasively wanted (and did) take a picture of every building, house or not, that I saw. I mean, the gardens were gorgeous, so that’s the proprietors’ goal right?
In Italy, there’s this amazing fluff in the air, the no one knows the name of. I’ve asked people who have been living in Verona for over 10 years and they just say they don’t know. The texture and appearance are really similar to dandelions, but it falls out of trees and delicately floats down. Every time you step outside, you’re bound to see at least a couple pieces moving through the air, like a couple of flying buds.
In reality, most people are allergic to it, so I am equipped to appreciate it, while almost everyone else curses it.
Alex, my friend from all of these trips says once she was driving and a piece lodged itself into her car ac from the outside and propelled itself to the inside of the car, like a scene straight out of a Supernatural opener. She started choking pretty much on the spot.
I am trying to work on capturing it correctly because this picture is nice but slightly reminiscent of dandruff.
We found a semi trail, which was really just a road, but it fulfilled all of my view goals.
I’d love to live on the mountain like this, but that transportation is no joke. It is fully within my capabilities of buying a house like this and then slowly realizing I’d have to say goodbye to the outside world because I am not about this life.
Although you can image how cool it would be to be the house behind this gate.
Going through these pictures right now, I find it hard to believe I was actually there.
Alex and I felt the water and mustered up the courage to get in. It was freezing. It was so cold that I couldn’t feel my legs after 40 seconds in the water.
That’s why I had to get a picture with my knees in it.
Ohhh how could I possibly forget the ducks. They were incredible. Luckily, I ate my sandwich open-faced and I had bread to feed them. We were all really happy. For a while, this giant swan kept trying to steal all of it, but I handled her accordingly – I threw her crumbs very far.
So after lunch we sun-bathed for a very long time. I got ten shades darker, the usual.
And we get dressed and begin a nice stroll around the lake.
I take this picture that will probably go down in history as the most awkward photo of all time.
But at least Alex jumped in and gave this spot some nice juju.
As we’re moving, we see this group of boys cannonballing into the water. What? We tested the water and it was slightly warmer. Somehow, we ended up getting back in. The water was pretty nice. For me, the worst part was just the algae all over the rocks. Okay, I’m viewing this with a ton of hindsight forgiveness. It’s a lake, not a beach, the shore was made entirely out of rocks (surprisingly excellent and soothing to lay on top of). So anyone on the shore saw my dramatic pain expressions I was was walking back and forth from the water to the shore. So this, plus the cold, plus the slippery algae were the only problems. Regardless, it was fantastic, breathtaking – from the cold and the sights.
We (mostly Alex) successfully swam for a little. Quite impressive, not in comparison to those boys to the only two random people we saw out at a shockingly far distance, but still impressive. The temperature had to be around 30 degrees, although who knows because I truly can’t correctly measure anything lower than 60.
Those noises are from how cold the water is if that isn’t obvious.
You can really see the mountains rolling off into the distance.
This is the location of the second swim.
We ended the trip getting the traditional gelato and enjoying the rest of the sights.
This weekend, I went hiking on Monte Baldo, this mountain in Malcesine which is along Lake Garda.
As always, in my life, there are twists and turns and unforeseen consequences of my awkwardness. So let’s get into it.
We arrive at Porta Nuova station and realize the price spiked for the train taking us where we actually want to go Riva del Garda, so we decide on a bus instead, that is heading to Lake Garda.
Now as me and my friend are getting onto the bus, everyone is systematically cutting in front of us like we’re in a school lunch line. So Alex and I realize we must do the same. I get in front of this woman, let’s call her Dot, who refuses to let Alex in front of her. However, Alex is fluent in Italian while I am a novice, to say the most. So I leave one foot out the door trying to leave room for Alex to come in. This woman literally rams me onto the bus. However, there’s no room for Dot and me to be at the entrance and move through it, she actually pushed me against the wall, in a rather painful way, think Harry Potter on the Knight Bus, or I’m sure, JD in many scenes of Scrubs. I was completely perplexed, but also found the situation hysterical. So did numerous people behind me. We laughed about it for a good portion of our trip. I also learned Alex really likes UFC fighting, which is really cool. Maybe Dot should have thought twice.
We arrive after an hour+ and we realize the bus to Riva del Garda arrives in two hours and is another hour long ride, we decide to go to Malcesine, equally as far, incredibly beautiful, but the bus is coming and leaving sooner.
Malcesine was breathtaking the moment you get off the bus, even before.
It was such a cute little town, but magnificent once you notice the mountains looming in the not-so-far distance
After heading to the information desk and receiving a map, we excitedly look for trails. I’m a bit of an over-zealous fiend and immediately proclaimed, lets do the one with the highest difficulty.
Cause I’m definitely in the best shape of my life. *Side-eye at myself*
Once again, motivated by the initial beauty, here we are, not knowing what is in store.
Everything is beautiful.
It gets rougher and steeper.
Dark and pixelated, but nature-y.
One fourth of the way there: Views
I will never get over these rooftops in Italy, especially along the coast. In.cred.ible.
Nearing the halfway point of our hike, halfway to Piombe, I feel like we both were so done, but we weren’t going to say anything to each other.
We were absolutely determined to make it to Piombe and kept going, but every time we saw the cable car going up and down, I died a little inside.
I never realized how foggy mountains are. I definitely thought it was dirt and dust during my first hike. No judgment though.
You can see the progress in these two pictures alone.
A little after this, after 227 floors, over 20,000 steps, and over 11 kilometers, we went back down. Yes we didn’t make it Piombe, but we did so much and Piombe was just a superficial goal, we surpassed it all.
Going down, was somewhat worse than going up. Maybe it’s the mindlessness of it and easiness while still insanely painful aspect of it.
Two interesting points:
We were the only people going up the mountain. Everyone else was coming down.
Also, out of the 20 some odd groups we crossed paths with, on the May day, only one said “Ciao,” to us. Everyone else gave an perky yet exasperated, “Hello.”
Finally, we arrive to the bottom. We buy the lemon soda I’ve actually been talking about for months. Granted, I was talking about Sprite, but this Lemon soda was equally as thirst quenching and all the right kinds of tingle.
After the first bus trip to Garda, I was suddenly rejuvenated in all the right ways. I started speaking again and everything. While waiting for the next bus, the option of wandering the lake area was back on the table.
The docks and restaurant area was sheer tranquility.
By 8:30 pm we were back in Verona. Alex offers to take me to my neighborhood. I decline cause I wanted a bus to take me directly home.
I jump on the 91 bus that definitely has my stop in route. However after 20 minutes of driving in an area I have never seen before, the bus driver announces it’s the end of the line.
Bummer.
Okay, more than bummer. Panic ensues.
I don’t know where I am, but I see a group people and I do the usually:
Me: Parli Inglese?
Stranger: So, so.
Me: Okay. Dove siamo?
The farthest one yells out, “Santa Lucia.”
When you look at the bus stop you can see that Santa Lucia is on the exact opposite side of town, the farthest I could possibly be.
They show me where I can catch a different bus, coming sooner. And I walk to it. A few minutes later, the one that helped me the most walked up.
We had a nice conversation consisting of broken English and broken Italian, and when I was struggling to find Italian words, accidental broken Spanish.
He said he was meeting his parents at church, but as the bus time was approaching, he said he father was coming to pick him up instead, leading me to believe he mostly just wanted to make sure I got on my bus.
As the bus approached he said, “here’s your bus.”
As I was getting on he asked, “Hai un biglietto?” I did not have a ticket, but I didn’t need him to give me one, but he took out his wallet and gave me a ticket nonetheless, and waved goodbye. On the bus, my dramatic self was basically in tears. I run into too many kind and overly generous people.
When I arrived in Italy and was taking the train from Venice to Verona, a nice young man named Ralph really did everything he could to make sure I got a taxi and made it home safely, including getting off the train, when his final destination was Milan (In the moment, did not understand he did this for me). We waiting in silence for what seemed like forever, I assumed he was waiting to catch a connecting bus, but once a taxi arrived he went back to the train, and I haven’t seen or spoken to him since. So I know a vast majority of the kind strangers I have met didn’t have any hidden agendas, they’ve just been great people, doing the utmost to help someone who was incredibly confused.
Yes I can handle things on my own, but they saved me a lot of time, energy and of course stress.
Overall, when I think I’ve made a ridiculous decision and things go wrong, typically, something really lovely comes out of the situation and I meet some of the most genuinely kind individuals I have ever met.
I know one day I need to pay it all forward in a huge way.
What can I say? I have truly found my way with nature since I’ve come to Italy. Or so I think.
I really knew I’d get along with these girls from the first day I met them, especially during our watercooler-adjacent conversations while waiting for our students to arrive.
This trip to Sant’Andrea, somewhat a part of Lessinia, was yet another euphoric hiking experience (aka my second).
The feeling of being and sweating in nature gives me the same endorphin rush as being at the spa, only with body aches the next day.
Driving up looked like this.
We go to the hiking grounds, partook in our ritualistic shot of coffee, well I’m on “cappuccini” now.
We set off on this trail. My dumb self really thought the bike trail was the hiking trail. It was beautiful nonetheless. I could have walked on this for hours. Part of me wishes we had, because what came next was a crazy, rabid struggle for survival. I have a flair for the dramatic, but so do Italians who really thought I was going to die because I was wearing the wrong shoes. Sneakers aren’t proper hiking attire? Did you know that?
We saw this couple, with legit-looking hiking sticks, traveling up the mountain, so we thought we’d follow them. We should have realized we shouldn’t because they were completely extra. We saw them spend five minutes going through this difficult patch of hill and shrubbery, sticks being utilized and all, when literally two meters to the right was a clear passage. Alex and I took this route because we have sense. So advice: don’t follow people just because they appear to have the proper equipment for the activity you are doing.
We still did.
Following them, we got to these half paths, with a dead-end made of horse poo. Who even brought their horse here?
Eventually, we all turned around. Alex and I, determined to make it up this mountain, veered off from the couple (wise decision), but we followed another trail and things were looking beautiful. We celebrated and reveled in the beauty for a moment.
Then the trail mysteriously ended. Where else could we go, we asked ourselves? Hmm, up (unwise decision).
So we went up, even though there was no trail in sight. Through branches, dirt, thorny vines. In our attempt to persevere, we just kept going farther and farther into the thrawls of the mountainous forest. It was such a trial that we didn’t even try to take a picture. Everything was betrayings us, the bugs, the branches, my shoes. Insects were trying to attack. We’d grab on to branches and they would collapse within our grasp. My shoes had completely flipped around on multiple occasions. Finally, with heavy hearts, we turned around. As soon as we made it out of that jungle, we laid a blanket out withing the dandelions and ate some pizza.
I don’t know whether it’s incredibly Italian that we brought pizza on our hike, or just incredibly ratchet. It was yummy though.
We went back down and wandered until we found a proper train. It was nice, relaxing, with semblances of civilization.
We found this abandoned building, which I’m fairly certain used to be a not-so-nice place for pigs.
From this hike, we spotted the real endgame. As soon as we made it down, we trekked over to it.
It was beautiful and steep and everything we had been hoping for, even though I was pretty tired at this point.
Views goals:
Trying to get that sophisticated nature aesthetic
Realizing who you are
Between the conversations, the nature smells that are “everything, and hidden gems you see poking where you least expect it, another amazing Sunday was put down in the books.
Oh I also found a bunch of legit marble. I even kept a piece.
And with that, we were back where we started.
Last note:
I am grateful for my two work friends (or simply friends). I was invited to one of their birthday celebrations, so it’s real.
A snapshot of the night and my first time drinking Sangria
It’s been so long, I’ve started to forget how to work this thing. Hopefully, it will flow bike like riding a bicycle.
I meant to tell of my travels in England ages ago, but I didn’t. I partially blame my prize fighting computer, that I trying its hardest to survive, but it’s mostly my fault. I think finally watching the previous season of The Originals is what compelled me to embrace my nostalgia for this trip and dive in.
I do miss England. I still can’t believe I went. When we were visiting my sister in Guantanamo Bay, my mom said to me, “you know you’ve made it when you travel on your own.” While this is not true for me, in part because my sister helped me, as well as my friend whose family graciously allowed me into their home, I still felt like somewhat of a big girl.
How is every building so distinct?
Day 1
The feeling, of entering a new country and seeing a familiar face waiting for you is amazing. This person that I’ve only known for four months was there, punctually waiting for me at the train station. That’s something you can’t even get a family member to do sometimes.
We walk, for what seems like ages, to her dad’s hospital. Where I saw this gem.
I arrived in London Stansted, in a parade of culture and accents and languages. I took the train to Cambridge and my punctual and jolly friend that I met at The Juliet’s Club in Verona, Anna, was waiting for me when I arrived.
We walk, for what seems like ages, to her dad’s hospital. Where I saw this gem.
I say to Anna, “this looks like the illustrations of a Roald Dahl book.” Anna replies, “Oh yeah, a while ago Quentin Blake made this for Cambridge’s 800th anniversary and it was given to the hospital.” I was already done with England at this point. Also, Anna is a walking encyclopedia.
Afterward, we took the bus back to Cambridge and it was spectacular. Kings and all of the other colleges had me speechless. It was really quaint and filled with the most beautiful green and speedy bicyclists
Th bicyclists kept getting in all of my pictures. At first, it seemed like a grievance to me, but Anna mentioned that it was very characteristic of Cambridge. Somehow that cleared my head and allowed me to see the town in a more beautiful way.
I think every American is slightly obsessed with British accents. We practice our imitation of Hermione saying “Leviosa” and crack out our accents at any possible opportunity. So when I saw these two guys play fighting for entertainment, I could not help but record them, plus it seemed so Fred and George.
Talking with them was a real treat. We asked why they were raising money and the one in red said he was raising money for his wedding. While I hope he has other means for his money, what an interesting story to tell. I hope he wasn’t lying.
After a long day of walking and seeking refuge in a book shop, looking at Sherlock Holmes novels, we walked to this English Pub, Eagle, that was so English I couldn’t help but awkwardly take pictures with the flash on while walking throughout it.
Eagle – English Pub
There’s a plaque at one of the tables because it’s the place where Watson and Crick discussed DNA.
However we didn’t eat there, but I did order a lemonade, which I’ll admit was just Sprite with a lime in it, causing me to have existential inquiries of what lemonade is to British people. Is this another biscuit/cookie debacle?
Day 2
The next day we explored Cambridge even more and actually went inside Kings College’s church, with the most beautiful stained glass.
This day I saw Freddie Highmore’s college and probably walked where he’s walked, so that’s a big life milestone. I also had some legitimate bubble tea for the first time since I left America. Oh and Korean food. Ahh.
It was so beautiful. *teardrop*
Day 3
The third day I was there, we had a nice chill day at home. Definitely needed. We played Clue for a funny amount of time. Apparently, it’s called Cluedo in England (also in Italy). Also on this day, we did at-home Korean BBQ and it was fantastic. I didn’t take a picture because I wasn’t trying to be extra.
Day 4
Today was the day. London!
From visiting Platform 9 3/4 to the Sherlock Holmes Museum *cough* bookshop, it was an amazing day. We did so much. When we were done, I think we were truly impressed with ourselves.
The other highlights: Buckingham Palace, trying “fish” {sausage} and chips for the first time, Tower Bridge, the London Bridge, The National Art Gallery, the Science museum, random castles, Picadilly Circus, Trafalgar Square and more. The tube was very good to us.
Buckingham PalaceAnna and the Great DetectiveAbsolutely incredible statues and me, with a severe case of hat hair
Random stories:
Lady in (what seemed like a) pirate outfit:
She was holding a sign saying, “waiting for my love, Jack.” We went up to her, and Anna, the more friendly of the two of us, asked her about her situation. She said she just came to the country with her love (Jack), but a few nights ago, he met another woman and decided to leave her. However, not for the other woman. The woman, if my memories serve correct, gave him advice and he realized he didn’t need her. Obviously, it seemed far-fetched, however, when Anna had turned around, the woman cracked, in a really real way, as if she had been holding it together for the conversation. Also, you could see a distinct tear line that messed up her make up. Someone else had set up a full tri-pod in front of her, so I am assuming it was fake, but my mind likes to wander.
This is her.
Man who sketches flags (in Trafalgar Square):
This man draws the flags of every country outside of the National Art Gallery. People come up and put coins on their home country, or whatever country is particularly on their heart. I put one on South Africa, an homage to my mother. Of course, America had tons.
In the video he’s saying it makes him really happy when someone puts a coin on a country that doesn’t usually get coins, typically meaning that it’s their home country. He also says that he likes doing it because it brings everyone together.
The music in the background takes me back to that moment.
View of Trafalgar
Day 5
Another rest and relaxation day. We made a brief trip to Cambridge plus more bubble tea. We finished the night just talking on the sofa like we did every other night, after a nice family dinner, until it was time for bed.
I’d probably say this is one of my first hiking experiences ever. Stone Mountain is amazing and beautiful and the keeper of some of my first memories with Danté, including stereotypically and unhygienically stealing a kill in the grass there, but nonetheless, it is just a giant rock right? Lessinia was filled with steep hills, people rock climbing, mountain streams, and dripping inner caverns- the truest sign of a mountain worth hiking.
Me and two friends went early in the morning and just gabbed about the beautiful scenery. It was inspiring and truly revitalizing. Afterward, we each had the feeling of having gone to the spa, even though we had just exerted so much energy. This is probably the same feeling my exercise-aholic sister, or, really, anyone who works out, has every time they work out, but I’d like to think there was a particular spiritual zen only to come from the “great outdoors.” It was calming, energetic, peaceful zen. I haven’t spent much time with these two ladies, but it was as if each droplet of perspiration brought us closer together. I’d like to pretend that I am kidding, but I’m not.
I can’t remember the name of anything.
Need a hand?
I’ve never seen sap before and it was beautiful.
Le Discoteca di L’Italia (I’m just going to assume this is correct)
In the past two weeks, I’ve gone out twice. Whoa.
The first was a silent disco, which was pretty much the great disco experience I’ve had since I’ve been here. I’ve come to the conclusion that I can have a great time at the club in the case of two situations: I am a little tipsy or I know the music that’s being played. Anytime a great song, that you know at least the chorus to comes on, it’s like the bursting of a dam. This place was cool because the headphones they gave had three color-coded channels so you could change the channel to fit whatever mood you were in and the other good thing is, it was almost impossible for there not to be a good song on at least one station.
It was heart-wrenching because, dang, I miss American music. They really had no business to, but they played way more Linkin Park than you would hear at any club ever, but it took me back to 9th grade. My sensory memories were really kicking in and running wild, but Encore featuring Jay-Z is one of the greatest songs of the 2000s period. Rock music at a club seems oxymoronic, but it was revitalizing and everything I could have ever hoped. So much emo juxtaposed with nostalgia.
They also played some early 2000s hip-hop and that was equally “everything.” Much better than “Cotton-Eyed Joe.” Oh wait, they played that twice and everyone went wild. I’ll forgive it.
I could not help but love seeing a sea of people dancing to one song on the red channel and then seeing the tallest boy in the entire place jamming to the green channel, listening to “Worth It” by Fifth Harmony.
Other songs played:
-“I Don’t Want To Wait,” by Paula Cole, aka the Dawson’s Creek theme song.
-“Hey Baby,” by Bruce Channel, which I didn’t know, but it is a stable for the Italian nightclub repertoire.
Sunday of roaming with a new friend
I met up with one of my friends for the hike and had one of the best Sundays I have had in Verona.
I got my unapologetic fourth gelato of this week and went on a wonderful walk through Piazza Bra, and all of Verona really and talked about so many things that we find dear. One of the absolutely greatest things about coming to Italy is meeting so many people from different countries.I wouldn’t know a soul born in countries such as England, Bulgaria, Ireland, Italy, Romania and so many other countries, had I not come.
After our ice cream had been consumed in entirety, we went back through piazza bra, roamed until we reached Castelvecchio, stopped by the most beautiful church and saw a little Italian Sunday mass, and then sat down for a drink for a few hours. Eventually, the amazing food smells wafting in the air possessed us to order something. Essentially, it was a crepe filled with ricotta and it was unbelievable.
Other things of note
I had the most gratifying moment the other day. I was listening to the Hannibal Buress podcast in the middle of my sleep-break, nightly pee, to put me back to sleep. When I heard him and Eric Andre singing, “let me take you to the movies shawty,” and saying, “It’s Ur Boy Bangz.” Me and my best friend having literally been referencing this man for the past four years.
I am even more obsessed with The Lonely Island, of course. Every time I do the Bangz laugh (“Ha-haaa”) I always think of Shy Ronnie. Always. This podcast finally gave my verification and closure on this matter. I just never thought of all people Hannibal Buress would be the person to finally mention they are connected, but they are, and I was right. It was just this moment of, “the answers you seek will come to you eventually when you least expect them and in the strangest of places.” I know I am making this into something bigger than it is, but I am also not. Everything is connected and random people have answers to the questions you are longing for answers to.
Carol can do a STUNNING impression of Supa Hot Fire.
Unrelated picture
Franziska can do an amazing impression of me and basically anyone, she’s like the Italian equivalent of my big, in this sense.
Biz Markie’s, “Just a Friend,” is infectious for anyone who hears it within a mile radius.
Mario’s, “Let Me Love You,” basically moved us to tears today.
Friend: What have you been up to?
Me: I went on a hike and explored the city a little more.
Friend: Did you write a blog post about it?
Me: No.
Friend: That’s why I didn’t know.
So, since I have fans…
Honestly, I can count on a grand total of zero hands who reads my blog posts without my constant reminders that it exist, but lucky for me “that’s what I like.”
This past month has been quite amazing. I’ve done so much. Usually, my weekends are filled with my quiet relaxations, but not this month. They’ve been eventful and liberating and tiring yet completely tranquil.
Let’s see:
Castelvecchio
I happened upon Castelvecchio on the way to the dentist and it completely eased my mind for the impending pain that was to come. It’s really popular, but on the first Sunday of the month, entry is one euro and I’ll literally pay for anything that’s under five euros/dollars/pounds #unameit.
Views: Castelvecchio Edition
I remember being in the museum literally just mesmerized by the spoons alone.
It’s really cool if you are into religious artwork and even though that doesn’t necessarily describe me, there were some things that spoke to me. Mainly the paintings of Saint Roch because I was like why the heck is he always pointing to a bruise on his left leg?
Should have gotten his name
That’s the inside. The outside of the castle is just massive enough to captivate and vex even the most plugged in millennial.
Lake Garda, Garda Lake, who knows? Lago di Garda
Carol, Franziska and I went to Garda Lake with Carol’s classmate, Marco, on the whim of Franziska who is confident enough to ask for what she wants and whose enthusiasm spread quicker than a viral video. Soon enough, we were all jazzed about going. It was getting quite dark and handling the camera was almost impossible, but I persevered.
“Tamera, what are you doing?”/What happens when you try to use flash to capture a lake
With a reliable camera and steady hands, I snapped (this photo of Garda Lake)
Carnivale is something Italians do. It is like Halloween but, innocently, instead of steroids, it’s on all the sweets given out on Halloween. The celebration in Verona was incredible, with an actual parade of American and Italian cartoons alike. I have some really crappy pictures from my Kindle fire of the Verona parade.
Anyway, the celebration is extraordinary. People get off work early, establishments close, children dress in cute costumes, while adults dress in rather beautiful masks and clothing. My favorite bit was seeing the teenagers running around “battling” each other. The way it was explained to me is that teens get together in different areas and have a battle, consisting of throwing eggs, flour, confetti and even…fish at each other. My disdain for all things seafood makes that last part unspeakable for me. If someone slapped me with a fish, I’d probably have a conniption and then keel over.
More details than my plans for getting back to America
I came home from the Verona parade and told my roommate that I’d probably go to the Venice Carnivale on Sunday. Then I proceeded to coax her into coming with me. She did and she fabulously planned the trip for us. Carol is my Italian equivalent of Larissa. That perfect oldest sister (even though she’s two years younger than me), bearing the burden of planning everything and being like your parent but more adept for the modern age. Quick sidenote, she gives my medical, physical, dietary, cleaning and basic Italian government advice on the daily all while cooking for the apartment on numerous occasions. Franziska is also amazing, really every roommate I’ve ever had is basically a goddess, but this portion of the post is dedicated to my complete gratitude for Carol since I didn’t have to explore Venice on my own. Especially because the freaks definitely came out to play on this specific Carnivale Sunday. I mean that in a loving way. There were adorable things like a kid and his grandfather sword fighting, then there was a group of people celebrating #BalloDelCulo aka something about celebrating butts, even if it doesn’t translate directly.
Vogue
Something about this guy reminds me of the clown from American Horror Story – no real reason why though
Tamera Pillay 