Into the Pensieve

Okay, there's still some stuff in my head that I want to clear out. And I apparently want to share it with you, so...

THOUGHTS ON AMERICANS WHO HAVE THOUGHTS ON AMERICA
If you know me, you know that complaining really irks me. (Which is a bit ironic, because I suppose right now I'm complaining about complainers). But here we go anyways.

It really bothers me when Americans come here and bash America. No wonder so much of the world hates us. I'm not saying that America is perfect - far from it, but all the international community knows about America is what they see, learn, and hear. It's the same of what Americans know about any other country they've never been to. So why do Americans contribute to the negative sentiments about America? It's not attractive, and it's not good politics. The world already knows all the bad stuff, and they already know all the fake good stuff (everyone lives next to a famous person, etc.), so why not tell them the REAL good stuff that they don't already know?

I guess what started this was walking through the Roman ruins with another American. He kept complaining the whole time about how America doesn't have anything like that. I've heard the same thing when going in some of those really big, cool churches. Or anything really big and old and grand that has lasted forever.

And I have to say, yes. Duh. It's true. We don't have ruins that are thousands of years old. We don't have churches that have been around seemingly forever. But we're also only 236 years old. We're still a baby country. And I think something that's pretty cool about America is it's history, which consequently has resulted in it not having big stone buildings.

America was started by some scrappy individuals that came over because they were fleeing a dread or chasing a dream. That's pretty cool. They were more focused on surviving then they were on leaving a legacy. America came out of a revolutionary war of people saying that they didn't want to put up with other people's crap anymore. They wanted to try things on their own because they thought they could create a better life for themselves, their family, and their country. That's pretty cool. They didn't really have time to be like, "Hey guys, this fighting for freedom thing is cool and all, but can we take a short break and build some stuff that'll last a long time?"

And think of what we HAVE contributed. What we have contributed to the world has gone global. It doesn't take a really expensive plane ticket to come check it out. Our contributions are available to everyone at comparatively low costs. Jazz music. Great classic movies like Singing in the Rain. iPhones. That's pretty cool.

And we have some stuff that'll last for a pretty long time. Do you see Mt. Rushmore going anywhere any time soon? What about the Statue of Liberty? I don't see that walking off in the near future.

I think we need to stop comparing countries. Ya, Italy is fricken' sweet for the Roman ruins. It's awesome that Peru has Machu Picchu. Everyone wants to go see the Pyramids in Egypt. The Great Wall of Chine is incredible.

But when we compare countries like that, we loose something important. We loose the value of what each country has to offer. So every time I hear an American saying, "America is so lame. We don't have anything like this," I want to poke them in the eye. As for churches, we have some pretty sweet ones. Have you ever been to that new church in Oakland? Pretty cool.

So I vote we stop comparing countries, and just say, "this is really cool" instead of, "this is really cool, America is so lame." Because the latter doesn't help anyone.

DADO & HIS FAMILY AND FRIENDS
So I'm here in Piadena, Italy staying with Dado and his family, and it's been a lot of fun. They're absolutely wonderful hosts!

The other night Dado and his friends brought me to an outside discoteche, which was a blast. Here were to of my charming escorts. (Dado & friend). 

This picture cracks me up. It was one of those awkward pictures that you go, "Oh, that's how that turned out." Anyways, his friends were fun.

And for his family...

I think that if the Lion King's Pumba was a silver bracelet wearing, fast car driving, intelligent, moral, popped-collar-"Porsche"-polo-sporting, Italian man, he'd be Dado's dad. I say that because they're both generous, funny, passionate about food, easy going, and a joy to be around.

It's been such a pleasure staying with them, and I'm bummed to be leaving tomorrow. The cool thing, though, is I get to go hang out for a night with my family.

That's right - I have family in Italy! So, that's fun. I think I'll write more about that tomorrow. But for now, I'm going to go ride bikes with Dado by the river. My head is feeling less heavy/full/crowded/busy. So, that's good.

Peace out!

It's Italy (very long)

Sometimes (often) I wonder what my head would be full of if I didn't blog. Honestly, I can't remember what I think about for the 9 or so months a year that I'm not blogging. Now, I'm always thinking in terms of blog. Even this, these exact words, I thought about while I was in a car. And when we were driving up to lunch today in the hills of Bologna and there were little butterflies, I wasn't just like, "oh! Little butterflies!" I was like, "Ooo, how can I describe this pretty butterflies in a way that'll capture it? Daytime fireflies? Small fairies?"...I never did figure out quite how to describe them.

And the other hard part is how to start it. I always have so many ideas, so many things that I want to talk about, and I never know which to put first. The funny thing, though, is that once I start typing, I end up not really having a choice. It all just kind of flows out. Some of it is pre-scripted, other parts surprise me, and other parts replace the pre-scripted parts that I intended to put in but that ended up getting booted for something else.

I want to warn you that this is going to be (hopefully) a very long blog. I say hopefully because these blogs are as much for me as they are for me. When I am in blog mode, my brain can get crowded because I'm always writing out what's going on internally. Weird, I know, but whatever. This is my Pensieve. If you don't know what that is, you should probably go read Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. Hmm...but it doesn't make sense to just read one of the HP books, so you should probably just go back and read all of them.

Or I'll just tell you. Dumbledore's Pensieve is a cool thought-bowl that he uses to empty his brain into so he can see everything from a different perspective, as he says, "when I simply have too many thoughts and memories crammed into my mind." Granted, I'm not a ~150 year old great wizard, but there's still a lot going on up there. And I'm hoping to empty it out into my Pensieve. So here we go.


...


.....


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Writers block.

Oh!

Dado pointed out to me that in my last post, I spelled Porsche wrong (I wrote "Porche"), but I'm just proud of myself for not spelling Audi like "Outtie". So I still consider that entry a win. Just saying...

(Just took a break to write an email to my FANTASTIC father - HAPPY FATHERS DAY, DAD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)

If I'm going to write a lot, I should break it down. I think I'm going to break it down categorically as opposed to chronologically, so I hope that's okay with you.

PACS STUFF & ITALY

I think that everyone should be required to travel. Especially people wanting to do some sort of international-influencing work. Or people who want to work with people. And really especially people who want to work with people internationally. And when I say traveling, I mean traveling where you talk to people. I don't mean a global bar hopping pub crawl expedition. I've already learned so much just from staying with Dado and his dad. So many things that I thought I knew, I realized that what I had been taught or what I assumed wasn't the whole story. I don't know why I keep thinking I know things. Someone smart once said, "There's nothing as firmly lodged as an expert's ignorance." I think I'm beginning to understand that more and more each day.

For example, yesterday I was in Milan with Dado, and I noticed a billboard for a movie coming up called "Dictator." It looks like a dumb, Borat-ish movie about a dictator that can no longer be in his country and has to go work at McDonald's...or something. But the point is, that there's a big sign that says "Dictator" that's supposed to be a comedy.

I found myself thinking, "What is wrong with them? Don't they know? Don't they know that Italy was oppressed by an evil dictator for nearly 20 years? How insensitive of them to put this up." I mean, it had a big enough impression on me that I took a picture of it.

In a conversation with Dado and his dad last night, I learned that not everyone is as negative about Mussolini as I thought. No one denies that his 1940 decision to side with Germany in WWII was horrible. I've never heard anyone say anything positive about his international politics. However, the history books gloss over the good things he did that I had no idea about: creating jobs, improving public transportation, and massive attacks on the mafia that eventually forced them all into temporary inactivity. Now I'm not saying that I'm "pro-Mussolini," I'm just saying that I didn't even know that there was anything to be pro-Mussolini about, and now I do. The train station in Milan, for example, is huge and impressive. It was built under Mussolini. A lot of the big, impressive buildings in Milan were built under Mussolini. The problems with Italians saying there is a lack of jobs and asking for welfare instead would, supposedly, not have happened under Mussolini. I was just so surprised to hear so many good things about him and how much good he did for his country, when only a couple hours earlier I was thinking, "Don't they know these people were oppressed??"

I need to stop thinking I know everything.

Another example. Maybe it's just a PACS thing, but when I think of Italy, I think of immigration. Quick background on international law and Italy's situation. If you check out a map, you'll notice that Italy protrudes into the Mediterranean Sea. On the other side of the sea if Africa. As you may have guessed, many parts of Africa do not have the best qualities of life - some countries are struck with war or poverty or violent revolution or lack of work or any other number of reasons that would push people to leave. According to international law, if someone gets onto your land and claims to be fleeing potential harm and to be seeing asylum, you cannot turn them away until you have evaluated their situation and decided to either grant or not grant their request. You cannot return them to their country, but you can let them pass through your country to seek asylum in the next country. (Please note - this is different from straight up illegal immigration. These people declare themselves as soon as they come into the country. People who simply immigrate illegally can be deported, as any American knows). Anyways, in 2011 there was a lot of talk about how Italy tried to stop the flow of this type of immigration by simply not letting the boats land. (Italy is not the only country to do this - Australia has performed similar practices). After these people sacrificed everything just to get on these boats, however, Italy's refusal to accept their boat onto the land, especially when the people were claiming refugee status, elicited lots of "How could they?!"s from PACS majors everywhere.

But...

Talking with actual Italians about the subject presented another point of view (shocking how that happens!). Giorgio (Dado's dad) and Dado talked a lot about how immigration is mismanaged in Italy, and as a result it creates a country full of (sometimes racist) nationalists who want to protect their country form the immigrants.  They kept saying, "immigration is a resource, not an enemy," but saying that Italy treats it like an enemy. Because they don't have a working process for immigration, like, they say, Germany does (German immigration is pretty strict, but it ends up "successful," meaning it accepts people who will be an asset to the country and who go through a naturalization process if/when they become a citizen). In Italy, though, the process is not as well laid out. As a result, there are people coming in and then asking for welfare and hand outs. The poor Italians cannot get the same help because there are too many immigrants to provide for, which leads to resentment and eventually racism. Immigrants are taking the jobs that poor Italians don't want, such as milking cows that have odd hours and are out in the country, when Italians want to have their weekends and live in the city. (I'm not trying to make sweeping generalizations, just relay a conversation). As a result, the immigrants take the jobs that many Italians don't want, but instead of spending their money here in Italy, they send it back to their family. To anyone that lives in a wealthy country next to poorer countries, this all sounds familiar. It makes sense why there would be animosity and resentment. I'm not saying it's right, but it makes sense. Right? Another thing that I thought was interesting was that here in Italy, they were one people. I think that's something that's something that makes this case different from America. In America, we're supposed to be a melting pot, or it was later changed to a salad (because everyone retains their own cultures, but we're all mixed together). Here in Italy, they were never (in recent history) a melting pot. They were Italian and largely Catholic. Now, immigrants from northern Africa are coming into the schools and saying that they don't like the crucifixes hanging in the classrooms. Giorgio compared it to having someone in your home, and then them saying that they don't like your table cloth - you have to throw it out. Their reaction is to say, "Well if you don't like the table cloth, then just don't come over." I don't know how to end this section gracefully, so I'm just going to leave it at that. It's interesting to talk to people about subjects that they're actually effected by, instead of just bouncing ideas around in an isolated classroom thousands of miles away.

So speaking of that: The Mafia.

I don't know how that's a "speaking of that," I mostly just wanted to talk about the Mafia. Because, you know, I'm in Italy. Oh, for the record, I now know someone who knows someone who knows someone who is just starting out in the Mafia. So if you mess with me. . . I can probably hook you up with some drugs or something. Because that's all he does so far.

Anyway, I'm fascinated by the Mafia. (Is it always capitalized?...I just looked it up. When it's referring to "the Mafia" - like the Italian one - then it is. When it's used to describe a group of people likened to the Mafia, like "a mafia of seventh grade boys out for no good," it's not). I'm talking about the Mafia - capital letters. It's another thing that I think I got all wrong. Which makes sense. They don't exactly have a facebook info page, you know?

Anyways: The Mafia. This is another thing that people actually had a surprisingly lot of good to say about. Movies like, "Micky Blue Eyes" gave me the impression that the Mafia is all family, and it's something that you're born into and that's it. (I'm not referencing The Godfather because I never saw it. What I saw was "Micky Blue Eyes," a romantic comedy where Hugh Grant falls in love with a Mafia boss' daughter). I learned that it's a lot more than that. There are a lot of economic motivations behind people's involvement. When people are poor and they have no where else to turn to, sometimes they will turn to the Mafia for work in exchange for protection - social, physical, and economic. It makes sense, then, that with Mussolini who created so many jobs, the Mafia action was minimal. And it makes sense that it's more of a problem with the economic crisis and influx of immigrants. But still, the Mafia is commended for their efficiency and accuracy. For such a large organization, they have very little bureaucratic crap. If there's a problem, you take care of it. Normal people are never in harms way. That's something that really sets them apart from terrorist organizations that bomb schools or subways. If the Mafia wants you dead, you're dead. But they're not going to kill you by blowing up a coffee shop, they're going to kill you by killing you. Very efficient. No muss no fuss. And they take care of their own, which is more than you can say for many governments.

I'm not saying that I'm supportive of the Mafia, I'm just saying that it's a really fascinating organization. I would love to learn more about it, but I don't want to be killed, so maybe I won't. BUT, one thing I will say is that if the Mafia wanted Osama Bin Ladden dead, they wouldn't have gone to war with the whole country of Afghanistan. It would have just been done. I can see the benefit of an organization that gets specific jobs done quickly and effectively without casualties or collateral damage.

Is it weird that I miss school and papers and research? Probably not. I'm nerdy. We all know that.

Can you see now why my head has been crowded?

Okay...moving on.

MOTOR NARCOLEPSY

Since leaving Stuart's house a couple weeks ago, I have suffered from what I am calling "motor narcolepsy." Did I talk about it? Basically, whenever I get in anything with a motor, I fall asleep. (We're pretending that trains have motors, by the way. I don't know how they actually work). But it didn't matter what it was: plane, bus, trains, cars, whatever. I would get in and fall asleep.

But I found a cure!

Fast, pretty, fast, shiny, fast cars!

So...that was fun to find out. But it's true! I stay awake in these cars. The blue shiny one (not pictured), the white shiny one (not pictured), the black shiny one (pictured) - I stay awake! ... with the exception of a) if it's 3:30am and we're coming home from the discoteche, or b) if I just spent 4 hours eating. Yay fast cars! Also, I learned that the German freeways have no speed limit. So... that's fun. Anyone in Germany have a shiny car?

IT'S ITALY


The other day I was talking to Dado about different countries and how different countries have different priorities...or something. I forget exactly what we were talking about. But then there was this.

Things That Matter To Italians
1. Girls
2. Soccer
3. Cars
And then there's everything else

I found that funny and worth mentioning.

"It's Italy" seems to be the catch phrase around here. "You don't have to wear your seat belt, it's Italy." (Don't worry, parents, I still do). "You can just leave that trash on the ground, it's Italy." "And then her bike got stolen, it's Italy." "People just do whatever they want, it's Italy." etc. etc.


CLOSING THOUGHTS
I'm suddenly very tired, which makes sense considering I was out last night and it's already late. But it's also quite annoying because I'm not close to done and my brain is still full. Here are more things I want to talk about:
- Thoughts about people who have thoughts about America
- American flag tshirts (they're taking over!)
- Meeting my family
- Dado and his awesome friends/family
- Itinerary (okay, I guess I can still post that)

Sorry this was long, and probably boring for many of you. Just so we're clear: I'm not pro-Mussolini nor do I want the Mafia to take over the world.


Here's my TENTATIVE ITINERARY:


Now - 6/20: Milan, Italy
6/20 - 6/24: Neuchatel, Switzerland
6/25-6/28: Paris, France
6/27-6/30: Bourdeaux, France
6/30 - 7/5: Barcelona, Spain
7/6 - 7/9: Pamplona, Spain
7/9 - 7/11: Something between Pamplona & Zurich
7/11 - 7/12: Zurich, Switzerland
7/12 - 7/15: Verscio, Switzerland
7/16 - 7/22: Amsterdam, Netherlands
7/23 - 7/30: Somewhere, Ireland
8/1 - 8/6: Berlin, Germany
8/6 - Home: Eastern Europe.

Pink Crocs

My head feels heavy from wine, I'm watching football/soccer,and I ate homemade pasta AND lasagna for dinner, oh and I'm wearing pink crocs. Is this what it feels like to be Italian? Probably.

I don't know where to start. I don't want to start too far back, because then I'll never catch up to where I am. But I don't want to start where I am, because then I'll never reach far back.

Whatever. I'll just start typing and see where it goes.

Rome was excellent. I thoroughly enjoyed it. Every time I felt like, "okay, I'm done," something happened to make me think, "never mind, I could stay awhile longer." A big part of that were my roommates Francesca and Caterina. They're both from Bologna, Italy and are escaping the post-earthquake craziness by fleeing to Rome. I really enjoyed hanging out with them. Caterina is a robot (in the best sort of way), in that she never tires and is always full of energy. She's hard to keep up with when walking down the street, but bring here in museum, and it takes hours to go down the hall. Francesca is more easy going and go with the flow. A great combo for a great time in Rome! We met up with our next door neighbors (remember last post when I went to play BS with some Cal Bears - them), and at night we all went to the Spanish steps and talked and drank wine. It was great. One of those movie-ish nights. I'm really loving those.

The next day we (Francesca, Caterina, and I) went to the Vatican, which was really, really cool. I loved seeing the Sistine Chapel and all the other art. It was really. . . cool. I especially loved the art that was painted on the walls, because that means I actually WAS where the great artists were. It wasn't a painting that got moved far from the original location. They actually spent probably hundreds of hours in those rooms. Pretty cool, if you ask me.

Oh! And St. Peter's Cathedral was awesome and pretty and big and really cool.

Then I eventually went to Cinque Terre, five cities on the west coast of Italy. I spent 2 days and 3 nights there, which was great. It's supposed to be a great place for hiking and such, but I didn't really feel like hiking. So I just spent most my time on various beaches. Eating pizza. I'm going to come back 300 pounds and tan, so I guess that breaks even, ya? I did one little walk called "Lovers Walk." I did it by myself (story of my life). There was a tunnel with lots of graffiti of confessions of love. "Jimmy, I'll love you forever." "S + R = <3 " "Even though you're not here, Billy Bob, you're here in my heart and I carry you wherever I go. Can't wait to see you in June. Blah blah blah." I found a couple that were kind of cool.

"duh winning"

"for narnia!"

And of course, I couldn't leave without leaving my mark.

So that was Cinque Terre. Pizza, beaches, gellato, and alone-love-walks.

Then I left this morning for what I thought was Milan. But it turns out that Dado lives in Milan the way that Santa Cruz-ians live in SF, which is to say not at all, but it's convenient to pick a  big city near by to kind of reference. So it turns out I'm in this little village about an hour by train outside of Milan.

Dado and his dad picked me up from the train station in the nicest, shiniest car at the station. And I was already like, "wow!" when I learned that this "slow car" (not my words) was just a loner because their Audi Q-Something got stolen today from the car wash, which majorly sucks. But don't worry, they still have the Porche.

So we came home and Master Chef (Dado's dad) made us an AWESOME Italian dinner of pasta AND lasagna. And wine. And fruit. And I'm so very full and happy.

So I'm here for a couple days, and I'm so excited. I have my own room, which is a major change from crowded hostels. And Dado & his dad are really great. And I can just relax and watch Ridiculousness on MTV (okay, I'm not really watching), while writing this. On wi-fi that works, so I'll probably be able to go back and add pictures in one go, isn't that exciting?! I think so too.

I'm so happy and relaxed and clean and well fed.

Dado showed me lots of photos of his trip to California, which made me thankful for my awesome parents (Hi Mom & Dad!!!!). They're really, really cool. I you don't know them, you should.

I always think of things I want to write about, and then when it comes time to write them, I forget. Things like how i had to throw away my beloved Rainbows because they turned into death-shoes. And that blog post was going to be called "RIP Rainbows." But oh well.

sorry, i can't rotate it

Or how I found an ancient Roman statue of Gerald Butler.

Or anything about the awesomeness of the Colosseum. 

Or how I bought new shoes at are like "grown up jellies!" so that makes me happy.

Or that I got sunburned in awkward stripes that I missed with my sunscreen. Or how one of the major downfalls of traveling by yourself is not having someone to tell you when you have something in your teeth. Or how yesterday I ate pizza for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. 

I can't think of what else I wanted to write about. Probably lots of important stuff, you know, knowing me. But for now, I think that's all I've got.  

Love you all!!

When In Rome

Hey everyone! I say "everyone" not just "Mom" because, due to multiple emails, I now know I have a wider audience than I thought. So hi everyone!
Okay, that being said, there's another thing I want to say. I know I said I was gung-ho on putting pictures on the blog, but I have since rethought my position. I say this because it changes the way I write. I like trying to describe what happened, because then when I go back and look ath these, I can remember what I thought and how I felt about experiences. But when I start adding pictures, it changes from "He was so close that if I had sighed heavily - or even lightely - he would have felt it" to "here's a picture of the Pope." (Ya, I'll get to that later). So, here's the deal. I'm going to write as if I'm not adding pics, then I may or may not go back in later and add them where appropriate. Does that work? Good.

I always think of so many things I want to write about, but then when I actually sit down to write, my mind goes blank. Ugh.

I guess I'll talk about Bobok and Scoula Teatro Dimitri (STD) a little. STD is David's school, and Bobok is the show they put on. It was really, really cool. I was proud to be associated, even if it was just as the mascot (which they took to calling me). I saw the show a lot, and I loved it each time. The show is physical theater, so it has a plot but it's also a lot more visually stimulating and exciting because all the actors are so able bodied and can do acrobatics and dance and other cool things. Very impressive. And all the kids (ages 21-28) are just so wonderfully friendly and nice. I really enjoyed spending time with them. The last perfromance was at a festival in Rome with schools from all around Europe, and Bobok took first place. Hurray!

After the award ceremnony where STD domiated, there was a big party at an African dance club dinner thing for all the participants. As the mascot, I counted as a participant. Woot woot! The music was. . . loud. Fun for a little bit, but mostly really loud. So a lot of us ended up on the street talking instead of inside where all the noise was. Then an old VW bus drove up playing music. They parked, and we all started dancing. It was . . . awesome. Fun and spontaneous, and the music was quite enjoyable. I felt like I was in a movie. It was one of those movie scenes where you're like, "ya right, that never happens," but then it DOES. Pretty cool.

The next day (today), I went exploring with Charlotte, one of the STD girls. (haha, I think that's a funny acronym everytime I write it). We accidently went to a cool garden with turtles and on-purpose went to the colesieum and some other ruins. Pretty cool. Oh! And we went to the Trevi Fountain. I tried to throw a coin in, but it hit a girl in the front row instead. She screamed and I ducked. Woops. The second coin made it in.

It's kind of crazy to think about - all those coins being thrown in. Three thousand euros a day, can you beleive it?

(break to go play BS/cards with some fellow Berkeley-ins I found. Go Bears!)

(okay, back)

So what I was saying about the fountain, it blows my mind. Not about how much money is thrown in there, but about how many wishes are made. Are you supposed to make a wish when you thrown the coin in? I'm not sure. I think you throw it in to ensure you will return to Rome or something, but I made a wish, just in case. And if I made that mistake, I'm guessing at least a couple of the contributers to the 3000 euros/day did the same. That's so many wishes. So many secret desires that people maybe wouldn't want to voice out loud but would wish on a coin and toss it into the fountain. For me, it was a good reminder that we're all human, all have our own inner dialogue, and all have wishes/hopes/dreams. That's something that I think helps me to see the humanity in people - remembering that they have wishes. I probably should have remembered that when I checked in at the hostel this afternoon and the receptionist was, well, hostile. (Oddly fitting).

Hmm. . . now I'm probably going to be distracted by that. At least for awhile. Wondering, whenever I'm talking to someone, "I wonder what your Trevi Fountain wish would be."

So exploring was great.

Then we went back to the theater to pack up the trailor with all the set stuff and the bus with all the personal stuff.

Then I made everyone take a group picture, and that made me happy.

Then we said our goodbyes. Hugs and kissess all around. And everyone climbed into the bus, and we waved at each other as they drove away.

I couldn't help but think, "Everyone I know in Italy just drove away from me." Then, "I'm alone in Rome." Then, "I'm alone in Rome!"

Think, Macaulay Culkin "I made my family disapear." You know how the first time he says it, he's all sad, and the second time he says it, he's running around the house dancing. That's kind of how it was for me. At first I was sad, then I was excited to be in Rome. Woohoo!

So I checked into the hostel, with the hostel receptionist. Then I went and took the metro (subway) to the Circus Maximus and called my dad. Then I talked to him as I walked around Rome and he followed me on Google maps. Or I should say he lead me. He told me about a cool river that I went and checked out, and it was great to talk to him!

Then I went and got pizza to go and brought it to the Panthenon, where I ate it while sitting on one of the massive columns. So that felt. . . Italian. I mean, I ate PIZZA in the PANTHENON in ROME. Pretty cool, if you ask me.

Also while in the Pathenon, I called my granparents/mom/aunt (they were all at the same house) and got to say happy birthday to my grandma (HAPPY BIRTHDAY, GRAMMY!!!) and hi to everyone else, so that was great.

Then I wandered around some more, and was on my way to the Spanish steps when I ran into this guy that you've probably never heard of. He's kind of a big deal here, though. Crap, what's his name......oh ya: THE POPE! Yep, he was just strolling down the street. . . with a parade of people singing and guarding him. So I tried to take some pics, then I joined the parade because I realized I had missed the moment by trying to take pictures of it, and I wanted to actually experience being near the Pope. So, I followed the parade. Then they stopped, and I leaned against a car and watched as they sang and danced (jk. they just sang) and did Catholic pope stuff. Then the parade moved again. The problem, though, was that it was headed straight for where I was, and I was pinned against the car and had nowhere to go. I litterally thought, "crap! The pope is going to have to stop the parade because of me!" I was able to slide right before the parade got to me. I must have looked a little frantic/confused, because the bishop(?) in front smiled at me, and I could have sworn he was stifling a laugh. More bishops, more bishops, then the pope. I could have tripped him if I had stuck out my foot, or gotten him sick if I had sneezed. That's how close we were. It was awesome! I feel. . . holy. Is holiness contagious? Ha, I'm just kidding. I don't feel holy. But I DO feel really grateful that I didn't stop the parade or fall on the pope or something. That would have been bad.

Then I used the subway to get back to this hostile hostel, then I took an awesome shower, then I put on gross "I'm going to do laundry tomorrow and this is all I have left" clothes and went somewhere to write this, at which point I got informed that I may or may not have a room here all the nights I need it (which is lame, but not a big deal), then I got annoyed, then I got kicked out of the common room because it closes super early, so I went up to the roof terrace thing to finish writing this, then I met fellow Berkeley people and we played cards and drank wine and it was great. All's well that ends well. Not a phrase I believe in politically, but for tonight, I'll agree.
Other things: I talked to Stuart today too. I feel like mentioning that because: a) it was great talking to him!, and b) I didn't want him to feel left out. Also, you know how in the movies the Spanish steps are all pretty and empty and it's just you and your significant other there. Not the case. People everywhere.

So, ya. I'll go back and put some pictures in now. Ha! You won't even know that they weren't there the first time. Love you all!

Woops, apparently you will. Pictures aren't loading. I'll put them  up tomorrow, but for now, I'm going to sleep. Night!!!

(okay, i just added some pictures, but i'm sick of waiting for each one, so that's all you get. yay!)

Life As A Theater Groupie

There's so much to write. . . I don't know where to start. I wanted to start with the line: "Everything you've ever heard about Tuscany, it's true." But now I didn't want to start with it, because there's a lot of other things that happened BEFORE Tuscany. So... I guess I'll back up. Luckily, I pre-write stuff in my head (even this part that you're reading right now, yep, this part in the parenthesis), so I'm going to write what I would have written on various days, and then catch up to today. Okay? Okay.

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June 4, 2012: Udine, Italy
Let's make a list of things I did and didn't know:

List of things I knew:
1) Toms are the worst shoes for rain.

List of things I didn't know:
1) It rains a lot in Italy.

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June 5, 2012. Bologna, Italy

You know you're in Italy when you find a PIZZA vending machine!!!

That's me with standing in the corner. I'm not on time out or anything. Those are "talking walls." Two people stand on opposite sides, and they can talk to each other. I don't really understand it, but it was awesome. One of Bologna's 7 secrets. The other people in the picture are students from Teatro Dimitri (David's school). David would be in the picture, but he's taking it.

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June 6, 2012. Somewhere in Tuscany, Italy.

Everything you've ever heard about Tuscany, believe it. I don't know if "Under the Tuscan Sun" is a song or a book or a movie or a saying or something else, but it should carry a lot of wonderfulness with it. On the bus ride here, I dreamt I was in Disneyland and when I woke up because my foot fell of the seat, the scenery outside was WAY better than my dream. I woke up right when we were passing by some arches (which I later learned was an acient aquaduct. . . I learned that when we were illegally climbing across it. It was grand). They're beautiful. Just like how they're supposed to be. Old, pretty, magestic. And really . . . cool.  A little piece of history that made it through.

Traveling with this group is really an awesome privilege. I feel so lucky that I've had this opportunity. I've learned a little (not much!) Italian, and I'm loving getting to know the people in David's class. They're all pretty similar to David, so you can imagine how aweosme they are. Super talented and hard working and friendly, which is a pretty unique combination. So I get to go everywhere they go, and it's the first time that I've traveled in a group that HASN'T been whole bunch of Americans. It's like coming in the back door. And I'm tagging along with them, I get some cool opportunities too. For example, right now I'm staying at a villa overlooking Tuscany that has been converted into a theater school. The theater school is hosting us for the next two nights, which is awesome! I would never have this opportunity otherwise.

We watched the sunset today, which was absolutley beautiful.

Hmm...I'm wondering what else I can tell you. I had so much stuff that I wanted to write, and now I'm stuck. It's cool being places where everything is so old. Like actually old, not like "100 years!" old like we have in America.

I've realized tha American tourists (and Americans in general) can be REALLY loud and obnoxious, so I think I'm going to consciously be quieter and softer. The theater school we're at now is full of American exchange students, and being around them after being around just Europeans for awhile is a real shock. I'd much rather be like the kids at Teatro Dimitri.

Sunset:

Some Teatro Dimitri people:

 

Climbed A Mountain

Please don't get too attached to me writing everyday, because I promis it's not going to happen throughout the entierty of my trip. Couple things to update everyone on: I'm taking a lot of solace in the idea that this is "round one" of Europe. So if you say, "Are you going to ____?" or "Did you ____?" and I say "nope" there's no need to say, "Awww, bummer." A better response would be, "What did you do instead?" and I will tell you of some great adventure. Or some horrible tragedy. But, hey, tragedy plus time equals humor, so there's no loss there either. This is round one, and I'll catch some more stuff on the next round, whenever that ends up being. So, ya. There's that.

Next: This really is the perfect little village. Everyone is so friendly and welcoming. It's kind of like Pleasantville, if you've ever seen that movie. Except not, because in that movie there's a negative connotation to the perfection of the town, and here's there's not. Today David and I picked cherries. I've never done that before, it was grand.

Also today, David and I went on a hike up a large hill/mountain where you could see the whole valley. That's where the top picture came from. And the bottom one, actually. I'm wondering how many pictures I should put on here. Do you guys want more pictures? Does anyone even read this? When I write these, I feel like I'm just writing them for my mom. Hi Mom! I'll add a cherry tree picture. Here it is:

Let me know if you guys (or you, Mom) like photos. I can try  to be more consistent with them. Hmm...what else do I want to say. The cheese is delecious here. The chocolate too. I'm (slowly) learning Italian, but I apparently have a Spanish accent. But everyone else has a German accent, so it's not like they're perfect either. But they're still much better than me (super duh). All of David's friends are wonderful. David lives in this really cute three story house thing. First floor is the kitchen and dining nook, floor 1.5 is the bathroom, 2nd floor is living room/Maria's room, and there's more, but David just got out of dance, so I'm going to go. Byeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!

Marathon To Perfection

Hmm. . . my blog site is in German. That's weird.
Just wanted to let everyone know I made it safely! It was a bit of a marathon, but worth it. Here was my route:

Car from Stuart's house to the Oakland airport
Plane from Oakland to Seattle
Mini train thing within Seattle airport
Plane from Seattle to London
Plane from London to Zurich airport
Train from Zurich airport to Zurich city
Different train from Zurich city to Bellizona
Small BART-ish (but much cleaner) train from Bellizona to Locarno
Fart Trains that go to Verscio were closed
Bus from Locardo to Ponte Brolla
Used bus driver's phone to call David
Started walking towards Verscio from Ponte Brolla
David met me part way
Walked through a couple towns to get to Verscio
Slept soundly

Woke up in the most perfect little town.

Also, David says hi.

World Traveler

I just picked up my boarding pass to London, and, needless to say, it made me smile. I couldn't help but take a picture: WORLD TRAVELER. My young-aspiring-traveler-former-self-me would be so proud. I know the title has to do more with the ticket and destination than the holder of the ticket, but a girl can dream.

Anyways, we're off. The new adventure has begun. I'm quite excited, as Stuart can attest to. I couldn't stop tapping/hitting him in the car ride to the airport (sorry Stuart). It feels good to be leaving. I don't have to worry about any loose ends that I forgot to tie. It's all out of my hands...for the most part. I don't have to think about what more I can be doing or what I let slip through the cracks. It feels good.

I feel free. And tired. Ready to sleep for 9 hours on this upcoming flight.

But in the meantime, I'm sitting here in the airport. I met a nice couple from New Zeland, and they say things like "loo," so that's fun. The boy next to me just came out to a friend via skype, and then took it back. Or something. So that was weird. I ate some gross Chinese food, which was not at all like the non-existent Mexican food I wanted, but whatever. And now I'm having flashbacks to Costa Rica, the last time I used this computer. The mouse kind of has a mind of it's own and jumps all over, causing me to have to reposition it so I don't write sentences inside of sentences. That probably doesn't make sense, but that's okay.

I get into London at noon tomorrow (or "half day" as the Kiwi said). Then a 4pm flight to Zurich, where will find a train to take me to David.

Let the games begin!!

Full Circle

Wow, I just saw that I haven't posted since September. Woops. Quick update: I'm a senior, I had a semester, I went to Thailand, and now I'm in the middle of having another semester.

But what I really want to talk about is tonight. And then I want to go to sleep, because I'm a complete grandma.

But tonight was the weirdest experience. I really feel like I've come full circle. . .

Tonight I went to the Perspectives showcase. It's a HUGE production on campus geared towards showing the different "perspectives" of students on campus. There are clubs that dance, act, sing, do spoken word, show videos, etc. Most the pieces are collaborative, so at least two clubs work together.

The weird part, though, was that the last time I went to that annual show, I was a senior. In high school. I remember sitting there with a friend's girlfriend who agreed to let me visit so I could check out the school. I remember watching, thinking of all the cool things I could get involved in here. I remember being impressed by the students, and overwhelmed by the HUGE auditorium that was part of campus.

This time, though, it was so different.

(crap, I'm more of a grandma then I thought. I'm going to go to sleep and finish this in the morning. Before 11 on a Friday night! . . . I'm a horrid college student).

(wow, here I am a couple days later, finishing up only because I want to be able to close this open window. . .and because it's still important to me.)

Like I said, this time, it was different. This time, instead of watching the type of people I could potentially meet, I was watching people I knew. Instead of sitting next to the one person I kind of knew out of 25,000 on the campus, I was sitting next to friends and bumping into lots of other people I knew. It was different.

But the coolest part is that there was a new addition to the line up this year. It had many of the same great performances that I remember from my high school experience - Bollywood, jerico!, Dil Se, Cal Slam - but this year there was a new one: Human Journal.

Human Journal is something I started in hopes of giving students a venue to share their stories. I wanted a place where we could put aside the debates that academics cling to so strongly. Holding up won arguments like a trophy kind of made me want to throw up. People can be so obsessed with their own opinion they forget to learn about the other side.

So I started the journal. And it grew. And people submitted stories about their experiences and why they thought they way they did. They wrote stories about what it was like to be fat, or a virgin by choice, or come out to an un-accepting family, or an illegal immigrant, or an exchange student. People wrote.

And at Perspectives, people performed. Human Journal partnered with Bear Stage (a theater group). Bear Stage chose 5 pieces and performed them as monologues.

Oh. my. gosh.

They did such a great job. I could NOT have been more proud. The audience laughed at the funny parts, snapped at the parts they agreed with, and cheered at the spots where the authors/actores found their strength.

2,000 people heard the true stories of individuals who had the courage to write them down on paper.

We were able to pass out our remaining journals from years past. Everyone was excited to grab one. Or two.

Walking home, I passed hoards of people with their noses between the pages that I began the creation of.

The night really was like coming full circle. Not about coming back to where I had been for years ago, but more about closure.

The Perspectives show 4 short/long years ago was one of the major reasons I chose Cal. Four years ago, it represented what Cal meant to me. Today it does the same thing.

And I changed the Perspectives show. I added something valuable and important to it. Obviously not by myself, but I was part of it.

I can leave Cal knowing that it's different, better even, because I was here.

And that's a good feeling.

Bad Reviews

I found where the bad reviews come from. You know how sometimes you'll be online reading reviews about a place or product, and there's always one that's way more negative than all the others? Yep, I found the source.

Today I was (well, still am) at my favorite cafe in Berkeley. Cafe Milano. It's great. They play classical music, the workers are super friendly and greet me by name, they reset to internet when it's not working with my computer, they talk to me in Spanish because they know that I spent my summer in Costa Rica and that I'm trying to practice, their food & coffee are both delicious and reasonably priced, and if something costs $2.68 and you give them $3.00, they'll give you $0.50 back instead of weighing you down with change. They're great. Period.

But today I saw where the bad reviews come from. There were some women here, maybe 50-something, who spent a long time waiting at the "pick-up." When I saw they were holding money, I asked if they were waiting in line to order (they were), and I said, mentioned that they could order at the cashier's counter (I pointed). They reminded me of an older version of the wicked step sisters . . . I can understand their frustration, because they had been waiting a long time at the wrong counter, but that's not an excuse to be rude. So then they were rude to me in their response to my suggestion, and then rude to the guy working at the counter. They all ordered at once, all thrusting money at him at once. One of them speaking loudly, as if the cashier didn't speak English (he does) and speaking louder would somehow help the language barrier, one of them saying, "NO MUSTARD AT ALL!" (what's wrong with, "without mustard, please."?), another was mad that they were out of the kind of soup she wanted, and the other forgetting her change, so the cashier gave it to her friend, who got flustered with the responsibility fo $3.75 and somehow wasn't able to give her friend the $0.75 part, so her friend who the change belonged to came back asking for her seventy-five cents, to which the cashier said her friend had it, who was eventually able to find the $0.75 that she had forgotten to give to her friend. Confusing? I agree.

I was glad I was after them, so I could give the cashier a little encouragement and help to pick of the pieces in the wake of their storm.

I can't image those women would have written a good review about Milano. But I also don't think that their view of Milano through their bitter, demanding glasses is a fair one.

And for me that was really an eye-opening moment of how the lens through which we look at the world really does impact our perception of reality (duh). I'm not saying that bad things never happen to good people, because that's obviously not true. But I think that if you find that everything bad always happens to you, and everyone you meet is an incompetent idiot, and everywhere you go has something wrong with it, the problem may be with the glasses you're wearing (. . . or the glasses I'M wearing), and not with the world outside them.