A Venetian Adventure

My prayers were answered; I made friends! Last week while I was waiting, no surprise there, at the International Office my ears perked as I heard the sweet melodious sound of American English. The voice was Jourdan, from New Orleans, who is my permanent travel buddy. Not long after she left I made two more friends from France and Slovakia, and later two more from Italy and Germany. How did this happen? I am no longer a lone wolf; my wolf pack of one grew by five (credit goes to The Hangover)!

Sunday a great opportunity arose; take the train to Venice on Monday for the day to pick up a document Jourdan needed for her Visa. Class or Venice? You can imagine how long that decision took. Monday morning our adventure began on the 8:18 am train to St. Lucia Station in Venice.

We arrived to blue skies and a quite cool breeze. We hopped on a vaporetto, the water buses, and cruised down the Grand Canal towards St. Mark’s square. We stopped and picked up Jourdan’s letter, and the rest of the day was ours to explore all Venice has to offer. We wound through alleys, people watched, pigeon watched, shopped and stopped for the most amazing lunch at Al Covo. This was one of the best meals I have ever eaten; next time you come to Venice call me for directions. After lunch we were off to Murano, the island of glass. This sleepy little island is where some of the world’s most beautiful hand blown glass comes from. Everywhere you look there are brightly colored chandeliers, bowls, sculptures you name it. I’m still awestruck by the works of art that come off this tiny island. As night fell we headed back to the main island to catch a glimpse of the Rialto Bridge before heading to the train station.

Little did I know the end of our trip was just the beginning of our adventure. We got to the station at 7:30, thinking that trains go back to Trieste about twice an hour. We bought our tickets and grabbed some dinner to take on the train that we thought was about to arrive, only to realize we had been reading the “arrivals” not the “departures” side of the timetable. We had missed every train back to Trieste except the last one for the night, three hours later. What do you do in a train station for three hours? Here are a few ideas: Buy drinks and try to make friends with the bartenders, however, this is much easier when you know more that 50 words in their language. Go to the waiting room with all the homeless people until you can’t stand the smell and the awkward looks, you are bound to hear some interesting conversations. Or you can take pictures of all of your feelings; this entertained us for quite sometime.

Finally our train came, we got home about 2am dead on our feet, but I wouldn’t have traded it for the world. Life is meant to be interesting, not necessarily smooth. Do something spontaneous; it could lead to a great story. Eat delicious food, you can work out tomorrow. Laugh when life gets hard, it will always get better. Explore the smallest of streets; you never know what you might find. Miss your train another one will always come. Most importantly, delight in the relationships and experiences along the way they make life worth living.

The sun sets differently over Venice.

View from the Rialto Bridge.

Being the Outsider

Let me preface this post by saying that Trieste is a beautiful town filled with wonderful people, places, and culture. I am ecstatic to be here and have this amazing opportunity.

Prior to my arrival I assumed that all the positive attributes of Italy and its people would supersede any difficulties I may encounter. I completely underestimated the differences I would encounter. Everything is slower in Europe, and when I say slower I mean it takes at least twice as long as in America. I have a washing machine, but no dryer, a gas stove you have to light, and the oven in my apartment doesn’t work so we use the one upstairs. I did cook for the first time today; gnocchi with pomodoro and zucchini so all hope is not lost. Buses arrive when the please, professors email you back several days later, and shop owners close whenever the like.

 Grocery shopping should be an Olympic sport. The nice, big supermarket near my apartment is about 1/3 mile away and the walk back is totally uphill. It’s no wonder locals go shopping every few days--you can only carry so much; on my first trip I forgot that I didn’t have a car right outside and wound up walking home with at least 50 extra pounds.

Today was the first day of class. My classes are in English, however, the class is made up totally of native Italian speakers. As I sat in the classroom waiting for the class, surrounded by conversations in a language I do not understand, I came to the realization that this is the first time in my life I have been the outsider, a very lonely feeling. At this moment I knew that I was no longer a tourist; I am now a “stranieri” (stranger), what Italians call foreigners. I am in a new place where everything is done differently, the people are more reserved, and every sentence I attempt includes “grazie (thank you)” and “mi dispiace (I’m sorry).”

Despite the transition not being all rainbows and butterflies with hunky Italian men falling at my feet, I know there is much more in store for me. It is my turn to be challenged and for life to throw me into difficult situations in which I will struggle to accomplish the simplest of tasks, i.e. buying stamps, but grow through the process. Through every small storm I will search for the wind to fill my sails and carry me on into a brighter, bigger horizon.

“The truth is that our finest moments are most likely to occur when we are feeling deeply uncomfortable, unhappy, or unfulfilled. For it is only in such moments, propelled by our discomfort, that we are likely to step out of our ruts and start searching for different ways or truer answers.”              -M. Scott Peck

Clermont-Ferrand

Cathedral made of volcanic stone, legit.

After all the hustle and bustle of Paris I was treated to an easy few days in Clermont-Ferrand, France. We walked, and shopped, and ate, and walked some more. On some of the streets it felt as if I had been transported back into medieval times, strolling down cobblestone streets beside antique storefronts, all that was missing were the rats. My aunt Cyndy showed me the two large Cathedrals in town, both are stunning and well worth the trip. The first is in the Gothic style made of volcanic stone making it extremely dark with bright, intricate stained glass windows. This cathedral could give Notre Dame a run for its money. The second, Notre Dame du Port, is in the Romanesque style with bright sand stone and tall columns. The elegance and intricacy of these churches baffles me, how did people do this hundreds of years ago?

The organ at the cathedral.

If you ever find yourself in Clermont you absolutely most go to Le Kitchen! This was the best meal I had in France, even better than Paris. I had the regional menu of an Auvergnian salad, coufidou (lentil stew with beef and carrots), and chocolate mousse, tres bien!

France was an amazing beginning to my European adventure, a huge merci to my aunt Cyndy and uncle Berle for being such amazing hosts, tour guides, and photography teachers!

Paris, Je t'aime!

View from the top of the Arc de Triomphe

When I first thought of Paris the first thing that came to my mind was history and lots of old stuff. It is so much more than that: food, wine, culture, art, cute men in skinny jeans, etc. The day I arrived in Paris my Aunt Cyndy and Uncle Berle picked me up from Charles- De Gaulle, minus my bag which arrived the next day thank you Delta. I hit the ground and the adventure began with a ride on the RER to our hotel and then to the Louvre. It’s astounding the amount of artwork and artifacts that are housed in this former Castle/Fortress. I feel bad for the paintings in the Italian room though; Mona Lisa hogs all the attention. The room is filled with some of the most breath taking paintings you will ever see, directly across from Mona Lisa is my new favorite painting The Wedding Feast at Cana by Paolo Veronese (picture below). If you plan to visit the Louvre make sure to get a map because I can just imagine getting lost, locked in and the paintings and statues coming to life… it could happen!

Today I awoke with a jet lag hangover that was quickly cured with amazing Café au lait and croissants, merci Hotel Diana. And again we were off, traipsing through Paris. We rode the metro to the Champs-Elysees and climbed the 284 steps to the top of the Arc de Triomphe, who needs a stairmaster when you have Paris. This was the most mind-blowing view; you could see all of Paris for miles and miles. Being so high up would satisfy anyone’s Napoleon complex, from up there you feel like you can conquer the world. Then we went to the Eifel tower, walked through the Tuileries garden and went back to the Louvre for a Starbucks; don’t judge. Paris has so much to offer it’s almost impossible to see it all but Aunt Cyndy is a fabulous tour guide showing me all the most best parts of the city. 

The Wedding Feast at Cana

Parisian Stair Master!

 

These two days have been wonderful and a great appetizer to the rest of my European feast. Tomorrow I’m off to Clermont! Au revior!

The Battle of the Suitcase

And on the 8^th day God created a suitcase big enough for study abroad. Today I went through my closet and picked out all of the clothes, shoes, accessories, etc that I couldn’t live without for six months. Looking at my selection I was happy, actually feeling quite proud of my “minimalist” mindset. Then the great battle began. I did everything to attempt to fit all of my needs into one large suitcase and my carry on. I pushed and rolled and shoved and jumped on my bag trying to force it into submission.  Ultimately, the suitcase won.

I unpacked, edited some more, screamed, cried, repacked, laughed and was finally able to zip my bag, with the help of my Dad.  Clearly there needs to be an airline exception for girls studying abroad. I might meet my future husband and will have absolutely NOTHING to wear; I guess I’ll just have to go shopping. Who knew packing could be such an emotional roller coaster? If only I had Mary Poppins’ carpet bag.

All of the "needs" minus Sammie, she would put me over the weight limit.

 Tomorrow I fly to Paris, au revior!