Where is the Gelato? And Other Important Questions

Watch the harrowing journey of one BU student as she studies in Padua, Italy for an entire semester.

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You Are Here

This is entirely embarrassing and entirely expected but I have been home for three weeks-ish now and haven’t even gotten around to wrapping things up. I think I have enough unfinished business with this blog that I won’t be able to really tie it all together until next week (cue the torches and pitchforks). The thing is, there’s a lot about being abroad, living abroad, studying abroad that doesn’t hit you or sink in until you’re home. To be honest, I don’t think I’ve really given myself the opportunity to let it sink in yet. It’s hard because coming home and realizing everything is more or less the way you left it is so easy compared to leaving and having to adjust to everything all at once. I mean, how many times can I talk about living in a new place and adjustment, really, I know I’m a broken record but it was a big part of my time there. Maybe I’m a broken record all the time but hey you get what you pay for and this blog is free. Currently I’m sitting at my job, being a receptionist for Hillel again, I’m sipping on Arizona Green Tea, and about to eat a prepared salad I bought at City Co across the street. I still get confused when I hear background conversations in English; the other day I was riding the T and I heard Spanish, THAT was surreal. I wish there were more opportunities to speak Italian and I know it’s mostly my own fault for not being able to work it into my daily routine but it’s not as easy as I thought it would be. Mostly I just can’t come to terms with the fact that Padova has changed to “there”. It’s no longer “here”, “home”, “Paola and Bruno’s”, it’s “the place I studied abroad in”, “twenty minutes from Venice”, “north east Italy”. How did a city that encompassed my entire life for 4 months turn into so little? Coming home means catching up and so many of my friends have asked the traditional “How was Italy?!” question. While I appreciate the sentiment, that question is very unclear. Like, I don’t know, how WAS Italy? Gr8 q. Was it happy? Was it sad to see me leave? Was it clean, dirty, full of rats (just the Trevi Fountain was, don’t worry)? In all seriousness, I never know what to say to that. I give them the same flippant kind of response their question looks for: “Oh, you know, amazing, life-changing, I miss it so much.” And they raise their eyebrows like, “Wow, it looked amazing on Instagram.” And that’s it, that’s really the full extent of our conversation because if they really wanted to hear any more I’d be forced to talk their ear off for approximately ten years. I could talk about Italy for hours on end because I lived there; for the past four months I did nothing else. Maybe I’m a victim of the typical “This one time when we were in Paris” study abroad virus, but it’s really unavoidable. Would people rather hear stories of things that happened to me half a year ago when I lived here or what is actually recent and relevant and interesting? Obviously my friends are happy to hear my stories because usually they’re so silly and insane they’ve become anecdotes at parties. But it’s also sort of sad to watch my experience boil itself down to a few funny stories I whip out for laughs. I know it’s inevitable, I know it doesn’t diminish how much I learned and grew in my time in Padova, but it’s weird to think you can go from point A to point B and all you’ll have to show for it is a handful of postcards, a photobook with 500 prints, some cute clothes, a couple gorgeous bags, dishcloths, etc. I mean maybe that’s a lot but STILL. It feels distant already and I hate that. How will I feel in twenty years? Will I have forgotten the names of all the friends I made? The bar we went to all the time? The hundreds of cute dogs I walked by every day? The piazze and streets I walked down? It makes me want to cry imagining that there’s no real way to go back. That my memories and pictures will serve as a reminder but even when I visit again it won’t be my city like it was. I am here but I was there and maybe part of me still is.

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Just Keep Swimming (and pretend this isn’t the end)

Ok, let’s be honest here people, I have not been the best blog keeper. I could be doing A LOT better but also I mean I’m in Italy and my laziness should be seen as a sign of cultural immersion! Right? I officially have a day and a half left here in this beautiful country and since I’m in complete and total denial, let’s rewind a little while to a little thing James Franco likes to call “spraaaang braaaayk”. I believe I left you all on the edge of your seats (as I do) with a short-ish description of our first two days in Athens! Those days of sunshine and general joy (also bicep growth and extreme muscle cramps after being a crip for a full three days) were brought to an end when we entered somewhat sunny Santorini.  For those of you that aren’t aware, Santorini is a very, very tiny Greek island that is most famous for housing Lena Kaligaris in Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants, aka every ‘00 teen’s dream. We flew in pretty late at night to the ONE ROOM airport (literally, one big building without any real walls, it has “six” gates or something that are actually just 6 different doors out of the same spot). It was dark, sadly, so we didn’t get a very good look at the island or the beach (so important). Instead, we found the guy from our hotel that was going to give us a ride back. I was on my crutches, so I got to ride in the front of the big van (woop woop) and then promptly witnessed out driver crash against a cement wall outside the hotel door. Fun! There was no real damage and literally no one cared so we went in to get our rooms. The hotel we stayed at was so tiny and really nice; it wasn’t far from the water and right next to the city of Fira, which is the largest on the island. We were just a short walk from the bus station, which was really the only form of transportation on the island. The first day we all woke up to sun and were in disbelief at how gorgeous everything was. We all ate quickly and excitedly got ourselves outside and to the beach! We ended up taking a taxi there and learned very quickly that taxis are cheap and really not a bad alternative to busing it everywhere we went (especially with me being a crip!). The beach was lovely, black sand, and we all spent maybe 4 hours out there tanning, walking on really hard rocks (not me!), and swimming (also not me!). Unfortunately, I was more or less a beached whale for the duration of our time there and got the loveliest sunburn :)  We found a nice restaurant for lunch, ate our weight in feta cheese, and moved on to get back home.  I feel as though I should mention how breathtaking the entire island was. When Becca, Rachel, and I round in the taxi from our hotel to the beach, we were literally in shock. Our taxi driver was like, “what, you’ve never seen the caldera before?!” And we just shook our heads. The island has this amazing section of water that is basically receiving a light hug from the land and inside there are a smatter of islands and a volcano. It was truly amazing and we were so happy we got to see it.  I have forgotten a lot of the details but also who cares at this point, so let’s fast forward to what I remember (aka all the important things)!!! We went to see the sunset that first evening because we weren’t sure the weather would provide for a nice sunset the next night. Our concierge (? not that fancy but I guess?) told us we had to get the bus to Oia so we went around 6 and grabbed it for a 7:45 sunset. We ended up being hella early but that was chill because we got to walk through Oia and see how beautiful and picture perfect it was. Word to the wise: the photographic part of Santorini is Oia. People don’t really say that much online for some reason and tend to tell you Fira is where you should go. I would say Fira is DEFINITELY the most important part of the island because it has the most stores, restaurants, hotels, etc, but Oia is by far the prettiest. All the postcards are from there and the windmill in Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants is there so like come on. It was pretty cold by the time sunset was like ~happening~ so I was cold and limping around in a dress, ready to go to dinner. It was GORGEOUS, also, I mean that goes without saying, but I will reiterate just how amazing it was. After sunset, we ate and went home to rest up for another day of fun in the sun! Except the next day was even colder and it started to get a little cloudy. We went to Akrotiri, the old ruins of the island that is a giant archeological dig now inside of an airport hanger, essentially. And we went to Red Beach, which sounds like the name, and was also so beautiful! The weather was not really happy but we powered through as well as we could. Oh, and how could I forget!! We went on a special boat tour to the volcano! Our concierge (?? still unclear on this) had said they had tours from Fira that would take us out to the volcano, which we could then hike, and over to the “hot springs”, which you could swim in! We decided this would be super fun and went early in the morning to grab the boat. Aside from absolute panic that Olivia was going to miss it when she in fact had gotten there 20 minutes before us, we had no problems reaching the boat. We even ran into some friends we met on the plane to Santorini! What are the odds!  Eventually, we got to the volcano which was rad as hell and Anna walked very, very slowly to keep up with me :) It was really cool and I even felt the heat from it in the steam that was coming out the top! What!!!! It was a little weird but also cool! That was where the fun promptly ended. When we got back on the boat, it started to get REALLY cold and we still had to go to the “hot springs”. We started making our way over and it began to rain. Oh my god, it was so unbearably cold and wet and they STILL MADE US STOP and wait 30 MINUTES to let people swim in the warm springs because also, fun fact, they were maybe lukewarm at most. I, of course, could not go in because of my ankle so instead I shivered on the boat, desperately trying to shield my plaster wrappings from the rain (and failing miserably). It ended up being completely awful while we waiting for everyone to jump into the freezing water, swim out and back, get on the boat, and FINALLY get back to the port. No body was happy, most people went into mild shock when they reached the cold water, and getting back to land seemed like a godsend. We all ran to the hotel, changed our clothes, showered, whatever, and ended up ordering food in for the night.  The next day did not get much better, unfortunately. It only got worse. We were scheduled to leave the next morning on a ferry at 11 am and we all woke up, packed up, and sent Rachel and Becca to the ferry-ticket office for all of us. They returned empty handed and explained that all the ferries were cancelled for the entire day. The. Entire. Day. It was the awful weather (extreme winds made choppy seas) that caused it and as a result we were quite literally stranded on the island. We had a flight for Mykonos that had been rescheduled to take us to Athens on Saturday morning and suddenly we weren’t sure if we could even get to Mykonos. We spent probably two or three hours in the hotel lobby using their wifi while we debated what to do and calculated costs. Ultimately, it was less costly for us to just change the stupid Mykonos flight AGAIN to send us from Santorini straight back to Athens on Friday morning, and gave us another day in Athens. So we booked a new hostel for that night and the next (which was really dumb because we ended up on the side of the island with the worst weather where there was quite literally one restaurant and a couple shops, nothing else) and one for the night in Athens. We moved all our crap to the new hostel, which had really big rooms and really no working wifi, and attempted to have fun while basically a hurricane was happening. I’m not gonna lie, Becca, Rachel, and I went to the restaurant down the street at night for dessert and I was a little concerned I was going to wind up dead from a fallen branch or something, It was a tad terrifying.  We survived though, thank god!!!!! We spent the extra day and a half-ish seeing Oia again and headed to some other places I honestly don’t remember very well at this point. We headed out on a teeny tiny plane from the teeny tiny (and unhelpful) airport of Santorini and found ourselves back in Athens for one last day. The hotel we stayed in was quite possibly the best of my entire time abroad and it was not expensive at all. We were all so thrilled to have a new, beautiful bed and shower, we all just crashed and spent the majority of our last day in greece shopping for souvenirs (the bane of our existences abroad).  And then we went home. It seems simple and short but it was huge and giant and I think that says a lot about study abroad in general. I’m not ready to say goodbye to Padova and the people I will miss here. I am not ready at all. 

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A Beginner’s Guide to Missing Important Events and Stuff

When you’re abroad you are not at home. This might seem obvious but you might not realize how hard it can be to watch all these important events happen to the people you love, just out of reach. It can be hard to check the news every night, looking for stories on your hometown or trying to understand what new things are important to your friends. What are they all talking about? What are the hot topics in class and at bars tonight? It’s no secret how things are going in America; everyone in Italy watches the news and sees what’s happening across the pond. It can be startling to have your host parents tell you news about your home that you didn’t even know about.  This winter there was a record breaking amount of snow in Boston. This is old news now, and increasingly unimportant with every passing day, but it was a huge deal when I first got here. In fact, I arrived in Italy two days later than we were supposed to because the blizzard delayed our flight. When I got here, I thought it was mostly going to be finishing up at home but the snow just kept coming and coming and well... I guess you don’t need me to remind you. It was a lot! Like, a LOT. And everyone I spoke to in Boston about it, or just talked to about random things, had to tell me how lucky I was and how I had “picked the perfect winter to go abroad”. I laughed and thought it was true, I was lucky to get out when I did and miss all the insanity. But, let’s be honest, I am nothing if not a huge victim of FOMO (Fear Of Missing Out, for those of you that don’t know) and not being at home, even for the things that people DIDN’T want to experience, felt like I was missing something. I mean, all of my friends were talking about it because they were all living in the middle of it! My entire twitter feed was full of snow warnings, bus delays, general complaints, and reminders that, yes, class was cancelled again. It was funny and when we got those emails about make-up classes on Saturdays I suddenly felt very grateful for being in Italy (where it never actually got much below 40 degrees).  After the snow subsided, I was met with a million snapchat stories about how beautiful it was getting (these really only started in the past few weeks). Again, I was missing so much! But my BFF Jen always gently reminded me that I wasn’t allowed to be upset because “I WAS IN ITALY/GREECE/PARIS/(some country)”. And, I mean, she was pretty right. Except for when I sprained my ankle and was limping around Greece for a week, I really had no place to complain about FOMO or anything of the sort. I came to terms with the fact that I would be missing a ton of really important events at home about two weeks before I left. I knew it would suck and I was fully prepared to watch The Daily Show online as often as possible so I could act like I generally knew what I was missing.  In a completely different vein, the past few weeks, things got very heated, very close to home, again. I’m from Ellicott City, Maryland aka Columbia aka the town directly between Baltimore and Washington, D.C. aka basically just outside Baltimore aka I am V close to all the important things. When all the shit started going down in Baltimore, I was blithely unaware for approximately 10 hours. I can always tell that something big is happening when all my Facebook friends start writing paragraph-long statuses. Usually I scroll past them anyways, since I don’t go on Facebook all that much and they could just be sharing cooking recipes or something, you know? It wasn’t until my friends starting messaging each other (and me) in our group message about what was going on that I really started to pay attention. The protesting, the rioting, the call for action was huge news, not just in my hometown--where several people were driving to Baltimore to join in or sending well-wishes from the comfort of their homes--but even here in Italy. My host parents asked me about it at dinner one night and I tried to explain what I could in a foreign language. Racism is hard to understand here because while it is incredibly prevalent (to an uncomfortable point), it isn’t challenged at all. There is very little done to protest the normal, societal view of racism; people just sort of live with it and no one really acknowledges it as a problem. Living in this type of environment was very unnerving for me at first--my friends and I complained several times after school at how white the whole country is and how uncomfortable it was to hear our host families say racist things. After a while though, we sort of decided to live our lives outside of that realm, never bringing it up at dinner or asking questions when we knew they would have upsetting answers.  So you can imagine trying to explain racism in Baltimore was a bit hard to do. I had to tell them that the people that were angry were fighting against the institutional racism that is a part of our country and has been for hundreds of years. I had to tell them that the rioting was a result of the anger that’s been building up and the injustices that have only grown in fervour since slavery ended. But sometimes they asked me questions that I couldn’t answer. When it came down to it, I was thousands of miles away from what was happening. I read a million articles but who can trust the news? I watched a million videos, but who can decide what’s really happening in them? I wanted to know what was happening and how we could fix it but what was I going to do from Italy? It was really hard. I tried to talk to my friends here about it but I’m the only one from the Maryland area so the fear and concern I had was far greater than what they could share in. My friends were talking about bomb threats at their schools, campuses getting shut down, my boyfriend had to leave work early before the rioters got too close to his building. It was a giant mess and no one was here to explain it to me.  I’m happy with what’s happened in the past week, with the Freddie Gray case and Marilyn Mosby, but I still need to know more. I guess this is how my friends felt when they came back to Boston after missing the bombing at the marathon. We keep struggling to understand what’s going on but can never get a good idea without being in the middle of it. And it’s hard to look around you and see a beautiful Italian city full of happy, smiling people while knowing your friends and family are struggling to understand the disasters down the street. My friend’s sister was in Nepal during the earthquake and I got to bike ride to class the next morning like nothing was going on. It’s not normal and as a person that always strives to stay informed and empathetic, it can be really hard being far away from so much. I can’t keep saying “I’m in Italy, enjoy it” when there is SO MUCH happening outside of here and me and this place. It’s hard not to feel bad sometimes when you’re enjoying the sun in Prato and eating gelato instead of digging people out of rubble. But it’s like my mom says, if we all stopped going outside because we were too afraid or spent every day filling our minds with the hardships of the world, we would fall apart. The whole world would just collapse in on itself. So I guess for now we just need to compromise and keep reading articles in between studying for finals or watching movies.  Didn’t mean for this post to be such a downer but hey usually food for thought isn’t that exciting anyways. I hope the world stays relatively happy for my last two weeks here so that I come home to an America that welcomes me with open arms :) I can’t wait to see how beautiful it is and be in awe all over again. 

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2 Weeks Notice

Hello followers, friends, random people that stumble across this blog for no good reason, I am saddened to give you my official two weeks notice. As it turns out, I do eventually have to leave Italy. I wish there was some way to just not.... And possibly return every three months to visit again and see all the people I’ve met here and will miss dearly. Unfortunately, there is absolutely no way my bank account would be able to handle that! So, alas, I’m forced to leave this place of 2 euro calzones, 3 euro glasses of wine, 2.50 gelato, and beautiful people speaking a beautiful language.  I will be the first to admit that I have missed home a LOT during this whole experience. The first two weeks here I basically spent trying not to cry because I wanted to be with my family and friends. The following month I was happy to be here and the more comfortable I got with Paola and Bruno, the language, my classes, etc. the happier I was being away. But it took a long time. I haven’t thought about what’s changed much until now and really I think the problem is even though I was one of the last people to leave for study abroad, and I had almost two full months at home, I really wasn’t ready to say goodbye. I spent months mentally telling myself that I was leaving and I had to get used to the idea. But I just didn’t, I don’t know, maybe you can’t really prepare yourself until you get there? But I got to Italy and I was not ready in any sense of the word. I was distraught.  I’m still adjusting, I don’t think you can ever really stop adjusting until you’ve lived somewhere for over a year, but I feel very at home here now. It feels good to be in Padova and be among the people here. I don’t feel like some weird American alien anymore pretending to be one of them haha. I come home every day excited to have dinner and hang out with Paola and Bruno because the language barrier is virtually nonexistent now. I don’t feel hindered when I participate here by my language, culture, clothes, or anything. That’s a beautiful feeling, to not be foreign in a foreign country. I never thought I’d really achieve that anywhere.  So where does this leave us? Here I am, looking at about 2 weeks until I’m home, sleeping in my very own full mattress that’s too short for me so I kind of have to lie down diagonally and mess all the covers up and when I wake up in the morning I can drive to a local coffee shop or Dunkin or Starbucks and I know how much to tip at restaurants or to factor tax in before I pay. I’m changing everything all over again and that’s absolute insanity because, I mean, I sort of just got here.  The whole idea of studying abroad is SO insane for SO many reasons that I’m starting to realize just now, at the end of it. But it’s so unbelievably amazing in its insanity and I can only begin guessing how it’s made me grow as a person. When we get home, that’s when we’ll really see how we’ve grown and what’s changed about us. It might just be new clothes, but who knows? I’m excited to find out, even if it means leaving behind a world of exciting differences that I’ve loved (basically) every second of. Even if it means packing up, praying to the TSA gods, and flying away again. 

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Crutchin’ Around

I’m back and better than ever with a full keyboard at hand so today I’ll actually try to describe in way more detail the trip to Athens! Look at me, updating you guys on my life and stuff, wow.  So Athens was our first and last stop on our Grecian tour. The plan was to spend two days in Athens, Saturday night to Monday night, then fly to Santorini for three nights, Monday night to Thursday morning/afternoon-ish, and finally end in Mykonos, Thursday to Saturday morning when we would fly back to Athens before flying home. It was really extensively planned out forever ago, to the point where Becca, Rachel, and I actually couldn’t remember which flights we booked, where the hostels were, etc. Thank god for email history being available offline cause otherwise we would have had way more trouble once we left the country.  When we reached Athens, we made our way to the hostel which wasn’t far from the Acropolis (thank goodness). Keep in mind I was on crutches the whole way which was SUPER FUN and not horrible AT ALL. The best part about being a crip: getting priority boarding and going through security really fast at the airport. The worst part: literally everything else. I was exhausted from my pain meds and still in pain because obviously. Then my hands bruised and got blisters because of my annoying/horrible crutches. It was just a shit show. I powered through but at the expense of my happiness, haha.  I’m being dramatic, it really wasn’t all that terrible. I even made it to the top of the Acropolis a short two days after the initial fall! That’s pretty good, I think! People were apparently making comments about my crutching up the hill although I didn’t hear them. Becca told me later that some guy was saying “Look, the girl with the crutches is coming back already.” I guess you could say I was a local celebrity.  Also, WOW, Greeks were kind of hilarious about the whole thing. You’d think they’d never seen someone on crutches before! Every person I talked to, in stores or at booths and things, would ask what happened or if I was okay. It was really funny at some point, especially because everyone wanted to know if it happened while I was in Greece. Like, did Greece do this to you? Were you in our hospital? Do we owe you for your pain? It was quite laughable but I also really appreciated the attention everyone gave me; I’m sure it was a pain for all of those around me but everyone took it in stride (ha, get it?). So, anyways, we saw the Acropolis and all the pretty things on top of that hill. The weather was also stunning in Athens, the whole time we were there. Apparently that’s not unusual and not very surprising considering the city is sandwiched between all different mountains and hills. It’s also perpetually sunny and we really lucked out considering how the weather turned on us in Santorini.... but that’s for next time. Our first really not-that-funny joke from the Gods for the Greece trip was a slow realization. We had had a quick meeting of our group a couple days before we left Italy to go over the itinerary and just generally get the housekeeping out of the way. During the meeting we were discussing travel plans and one of them was whether or not we had a reservation on a ferry--we were planning on traveling by ferry to save money a couple times, mostly from island to island. When we talked about it at the meeting though everyone was convinced we were taking a ferry from Mykonos to Athens and something about it seemed wrong to me. I remember thinking we had booked a plane but when we talked about it I really couldn’t remember. Luckily, I checked the second we got wifi in Athens whether or not I had any records of a flight and low and behold we had one! Yup, six tickets for all of us. For Sunday morning. When our flight from Athens was Saturday night. Oh. So panic set in and Rachel got on the phone, assertively telling them we had to have our flight changed because of a medical emergency (lol that’s me!). Unfortunately, Aegean Airlines does not allow you to get any sort of a refund or change without being fined UNLESS there’s a DEATH of a passenger. LITERALLY A DEATH. Seems a bit extreme to me. So we all had to pay 57 euros each to change the flight. That was a tad rough on my wallet (all of ours, I just had to put it on my credit card).  After that catastrophe, we went to see the Roman Agora and then the Acropolis. Afterwards we took a stop at Zeus’s Temple and headed to the Acropolis museum where all the remaining pieces of the Acropolis are actually housed now. All of it was v old and v beautiful and I really loved it. All those Greek myths my sister read to me when I was younger finally came into play and it was truly awesome to experience them firsthand. Plus, I literally am Aphrodite. The second day we got up and headed to a giant hill on the other-ish side of Athens, across from the Acropolis. I had to opt out of the climb, though, because I was in a lot of pain and couldn’t push myself any further. AKA, I was #abandoned on the middle of this hill, at the beginning of the hiking path and sat on the sit of the street for like an hour and a half while the rest of the group went up and saw this adorable little church at the top. It was honestly fine though, I needed the time to rest for sure. Afterwards we took it easy and shopped for a little bit; Greece has million and a half tourist shops and sometimes you can even find nice stuff nearby! Haha, but seriously, there was a long downhill street leading to the Acropolis that was littered with booths and artists selling random crap and some really gorgeous things that we walked through a couple times. Eventually we needed to get back to the hostel and make our way to the airport though! Because, believe it or not, it was time to go see Santorini! And here is where I think I’ll leave you all. I know, I know, I suck but deal with it. I’m tired. Classes are almost over and I’m still limping a little (although I definitely don’t need crutches anymore which is very lucky) so I think I get to decide if I want to work/sleep/watch netflix or not! Love you bbs, I hope everyone has an AMAZING Marathon Monday in Boston and stays dry! Ciao ciao.

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Have Crutch, Will Travel

And yet again, here we are, several weeks late and sweating a little bit out of embarrassment. I really am trying, honest, but I realize it might not seem like it. To make up for all the missed time I'm gonna try to write an extra post this week about Paris (mostly because it was awesome and also because it happened and I have sworn to tell you basically everything that happens). As of right now, spring break seems a tad more pressing. 

Currently I am sitting in a hotel room writing this on my boyfriend’s tablet because he is very generous and we are headed to Verona tomorrow morning!! Let it be known that I am trying to avoid spelling errors but I cannot make any promises. As I was saying, and as can be assumed by the title of this post, I was in Greece this past week for spring break!! It was honestly an amazing experience and I can't wait to tell you all the fun nuances. But if we're really gonna get into what happened last week, we have to start the Friday before we left. 

When I found out I was coming to Padova, I immediately knew I wanted to spend spring break in Greece and set about recruiting my friends, Becca and Rachel. They were easy to win over considering how amazing Greece is and the fact that they had never visited either. We got a group together and started planning. We bought some amazing discount flight tickets for Saturday afternoon/evening and got to work. Naturally, on Friday afternoon before we left, Rachel, Becca, and I wanted to do some preliminary Greece shopping! Basically we were intent on buying all the white and blue flowy shirts we could find and started our day with a light lunch in piazza dei signori. Little did we know what would happen next. And if this sounds like a horror movie, that's because IT WAS. Basically I not-so-subtly fell when we went to stand up and head to the stores. I ended up twisting my ankle really bad (!!!) and essentially ended up at the hospital. So fun! Wow! So instead of going shopping, painting my toenails, all that trip prep stuff, I ended up spending the entire afternoon in the hospital with Rachel wheeling me around in my sad little wheelchair. It was honestly a pretty pitiful moment. But also fascinating seeing how medicine worked in this country. Eventually, after 4 or 5 hours I was seen and told to stay off my foot for about 5 days, just using it sparingly, and then start using it again with a special brace on. So then I laughed in the doctor's face, told him I was going to Athens TOMORROW and requested he give me some advice that I could actually follow. He said buying crutches would be helpful while I was in Athens seeing sights and things but after that I needed to use it as much as I was comfortable with--sprains are very difficult in that not using them only makes them worse. But he insisted on the brace and said I could find it in a store down the street. I went with my host mom when we finished up and found out that not only did that store not have my brace but none of the stores within a wide radius did or would without ordering it specially and having it delivered in the next five days. While I was in Greece. So that wasn't exactly ideal. We ended up not getting it, I bought a pair of crutches instead, and I went home for a special easter dinner with my host brother whom I had never met before (he was actually super awesome, side note). The next morning, Paola and Alvise (the host brother) dropped me off at the train station to meet my friends and I crutched my way to the train platform. They were all appropriately sympathetic and Becca even laughed at the sight of me (I know it was hilarious). Luckily, we didn't miss a beat, and got to the airport without a problem, even landed in Athens on time and excited to see our hostel. 

At this point I am beginning to realize that I may have been ambitious in thinking I could tell you everything we did for a week in one blog post. Even just describing my harrowing journey at the hospital was a lot! Instead of dragging this on much longer I think I'll cut myself off here, edit a little, and continue it as a series. So stay tuned for the next couple of days; if you want to hear all about the crip that crutched it up the acropolis, the crip that almost blew away on santorini, or the girls and their crip that got stranded on an island for a couple days, you can find it all here. As they say, have crutch, will travel. And god knows I traveled a lot. 

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Abandonment Issues

I’m not sure if an apology is in order for abandoning you all the past two weeks. If so, I’m really sorry about it and I hope it doesn’t happen again! There’s not much I have to say at this point in time, honestly, but I felt bad letting things drag on even longer without a word. The week after Budapest was fairly uneventful and the next weekend I took a field trip to Bologna (Friday) and then a day trip to Bassano with my host mom and friends (Saturday)! Bologna was pretty interesting; we got an EXTENSIVE tour of everything Pier Paolo Pasolini touched in the entire city, and then got to see MAMBo (Museo del’Arte Moderna di Bologna). It was actually a good day to go and we took our exhausted bodies through the city for most of the day. It was a relief to head home at the end, though, since we were all so tired and had spent most of the day walking.  The trip to Bassano was much more interesting and fun! My host mom took Rachel and I and her friend Luisa took Sarah (another girl in the program that’s her host daughter) and Maggie out to see the surrounding towns! We started in Nove where we went to a huge ceramics factory and bought several gifts for our families. Then we headed over to Bassano and walked around the town where Grappa was made! It was so beautiful and we had a really lovely lunch all together. We got home fairly early and still had time to check out the market in Prato della Valle that happens every Saturday which was also really nice because it was the first beautiful Saturday of spring!  Things after that trip get fairly rough. The next week was midterms and they were absolutely brutal to get through. What I took away from that week, more than anything, is how quickly time it passing. That was officially our halfway break for our classes (which end a month before we leave). It’s pretty hard to believe how time is really flying here. The weekend after midterms was our much anticipated group trip with BU to Rome! Except it was completely awful, so much so that I don’t even want to write about it here. But to focus on the best parts, everything we did with BU was amazing and I finally got to see Cinecittà which is one of the places I’ve wanted to visit the most since I got to Italy. It was everything I hoped it would be and more; I really loved seeing the artifacts and costumes from Fellini films and Scorsese and really just everything. I loved the giant sets and props and we got to run around, as if we were participating in the film itself. I’ll admit, I felt like a kid and it was awesome. But I also got to see a huge piece of history! And, tbh, what’s cooler than the Italian Hollywood? Nothing.  Overall, time is weird. I think I’ve officially decided that. It was weird seeing old things (like REALLY old) and new things right next door to each other, and new things pretending to be old things. It’s weird to think how fast time is moving and yet also how not fast at all it is? Today marks exactly two months till I turn 21 (!!!!) which means in two months I will be home, sitting in my living room, probably very hungover, and packing up my whole life to move to Boston in the next week. In less than two months I will be on the plane ride home, getting ready to put my American SIM card back in my iPhone. In a little over a month I will be done with my BU classes and getting ready to take my finals. In exactly one month all my friends in London will be headed home, finished and done with their programs.  Basically, time is weird and moving fast and I’m really excited about it. I can’t wait to get home and have the whole summer ahead of me and see Third Eye Blind and a Red Sox game and work (hopefully somewhere cool). I’m also just so tired of school and work, even if it’s way more fun in Italy. I’ll always be tired of that.  Plus, I miss panera. 

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oh you know, just some baths I swam in.

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From Buda to Pest

So I went to Budapest this weekend! Crazy, right? It was our first trip out of the country and also my first time in Hungary! So many firsts wow can't believe it.  But in all seriousness, Budapest was...something else. I'm really glad Rachel, Becca, and I decided to make that our first trip out of the country because it was so completely different from Italy. The buildings, the language, the food, the people... literally nothing was the same. Even just seeing eastern Europe was fascinating because it really is so different from western Europe. I'm no art history major but you can clearly see the eastern influences in the architecture in Budapest; the domes and spires are very distinct and on every building. It's funny how much I'm starting to distinguish between different architectural influences and periods. I've never studied it but I guess I always realized there was a difference. After my brief field trip to Venice on Friday, I'm starting to recognize the influences as soon as I walk in a room. Weird, right? But also cool. Well I guess my story for this weekend kind of starts Friday morning with that field trip, actually. My history of Venice class, taught by my favorite Gabrielle Mancuso, caught the 7:51 am (gross) commuter train into Venice. About 30 minutes later, almost all of us met Gabrielle outside Santa Lucia and headed to the ghetto. I had briefly walked through the ghetto in a previous trip but didn't even realize that's where I was! This time we stopped and learned about the history of the various synagogues and the way the ghetto had changed and grown since it's inception. While we stood outside of the biggest synagogue, several people stopped and talked to Gabrielle, either joking with him or even just saying hi. Gabrielle was born and raised in Venice, a real Venetian, which we all knew but we were still baffled. I mean, Venice isn't huge but how did he know basically everyone in the area? Then Annie, probably the smartest of us all, had the mind to ask if he belonged to that synagogue. Turns out he does! So all the people we saw were his childhood neighbours and friends which is SO adorable and just adds to the list of why we all love him. Also, didn't even know he was jewish.  After the ghetto, we headed to Rialto and talked about the bridge a little. I had never seen it so empty, the stores weren't even open yet! That's how early it was. Ugh. Then we walked to San Marco, of course. It was nice, especially because I remembered how to get there. I'm starting to remember alleys, guys. The integration is real and I LOVE IT.  So in San Marco we immediately headed to the Doge Palace. We all had tickets to get in and walk around the palace. This was especially interesting given how much we recently learned about the Doges and their election system (WHICH IS LEGIT INSANE) and the history of the Venetian republic. So much of what we learned in class was represented in paintings and other artefacts throughout the museum. Gabrielle stopped us every few rooms to talk about interesting parts of them and how they fit in with our class. I had been through the museum before with my family and remembered actually kind of a lot about it. Partially because I guess my memory is pretty good but probably mostly because Venice is literally my favorite place in the world. We walked over the Bridge of Sighs, into the prisons, and back. Then it was time to head to the Correr Museum in Napoleon's corridor! That was really cool, I had never been there before, and it was fascinating to see the difference in design. Napoleon's corridor was built when he conquered the city and decided to knock down the church that was across the piazza from the basilica. He wanted to build a hall to have a giant party in and man did he build the best party house I've ever seen. Everything was very Marie Antoinette and absolutely gorgeous. I wish we could have gotten drunk in there! Instead we saw some more historical stuff and that was it for the field trip! Some people stayed for lunch and to hang out but I had a plane to catch! We scheduled our flight for 4:30 so I would have plenty of time to get to the Venice airport so I jumped on the vaporetto to the airport. It was a relatively long journey, we stopped on every major island at least once, and then headed to the terminal. I managed to get inside, eat a slice of pizza, and orient myself somewhat before Rachel and Becca got there (they aren't in my history class so they came from Padova). Then we were off to the gate, got on our flight to Rome, had a three hour layover in Rome (annoying), ate expensive salads, and flew to Budapest! We got there around 11:30 pm which was really tough on me because I had to get up at 6 am for my field trip.  Now Budapest was certainly an adventure and for some reason the city didn't seem to like me.  We took a cab to our hostel (Big Fish) and when we got to our room and started unpacking I realized I dropped my cell phone in the cab!!!! Fun!!!!!!!!!! So we called the company, the driver found the phone but she was at the airport, and I had to pay an entirely new cab fair for her to drive it back to me!!!!!!! FUNNER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (In hindsight, it was cheaper than buying a new phone but like COME ON.) At that point it was approx. 2 am and we were actually so completely dead we all just decided to conk out for the night. Little did we know our other roommate, an Irish guy I decided to call "Ian" because he's Irish and it felt right, was the absolute worst. I hated him. So much. He came home that night at 5:30 am drunk af and literally starts yelling our room, saying "Sorry sorry sorry! I have to turn on the light! Sorry!" just throwing shit, turning the light on, etc. It was horrid. Then he went back into the lobby and keeps talking SUPER LOUD to other people. Then he comes in and goes to bed, SNORING. SO LOUD. ARE YOU KIDDING "IAN"?!?!?!?!  And we had planned to wake up at 10 am? Yeah, his alarm starts going off at 8:00. Every 15 minutes. Just why even try to sleep, amiright? So we didn't, we just got up and decided the day had to begin.  So on approx. 5 hours of sleep we began to tour Budapest. Except when we put our shoes on while leaving the hostel, my boots broke. Yup. I mean, they were like 4 years old so I knew it was going to happen sooner or later; I wasn't planning on taking them home with me. But in Budapest??? Really??? When I didn't bring any other shoes? Apparently, yes.  The entire day I had to walk really lightly on my left foot, trying not to flex too much, because once that zipper went down it was never coming back up. It was about halfway down all day and kept getting lower and lower everywhere we went. And we went to a lot of places. First up was crossing the Danube which is p gigantic. Then we headed to Buda Castle, this absolutely ginormous building sitting on top of a hill on the Buda side of the city. It was so gorgeous and really just very huge. The Hungarian National Gallery now resides inside the Royal Palace (as of 1975) so we didn't get to see much of the inside but even just the gardens and surrounding areas were so beautiful. Then we headed over to the Fisherman's Bastion, a very very cool place on the edge of the hill, looking over Parliament. There's this amazing church next to it, Matthias Church, that has a roof tiled in super pigmented colors and designs. It's really so cool and different. I loved the Hungarian use of color; some buildings were really decked out and it was delightful to see.  We took tons of selfies, etc etc, it was really awesome. Then we went down the funicular! Ah! So fun! Very short but cool! I felt like Wes Anderson. Or anyone in The Grand Budapest Hotel.  We crossed the river, walked around Parliament (so intimidating, jesus), and headed back to the shopping area! Because new shoes!  I finally found an H&M and began scouring the racks for shoes. Now, here I am supposed to be a 41 because I have big feet and wear 10s in the US. But let me tell you, H&M 41s aren't real 41s because the shoes I got (which I thought fit me well in the store) were WAY too small for me. And the only thing they even had in my size were ballet flats. So after I bought them we decided to hike a mountain (lol) and I basically died a little! It was really epic though, seeing the city from the highest point at night. We went up to the Budapest Statue of Liberty (yup, same name in English) which is on this super high hill next to the Buda Castle. It sits on the Cittadella and overlooks the whole city. It's very intimidating from the riverside because it just hangs over your head the whole time you're walking around but it's especially intimidating from the base of the statue. The thing is freaking huge and stands on top of this giant base/podium thing. We took several pictures of the city lit up around us (they light each major building at night and wow it is extremely breathtaking) then headed back down for dinner at a fair. Rachel, Becca, and I seem to have a superpower of going to places while special festivals are happening and Budapest was no different. There was a really cool fair happening in the shopping area with tons of cheap, delicious food and candies. We ate our fill then went back to the hostel to ready ourselves for ruin pubs!!!!!!  Ok so, ruin pubs are pubs that are built out of the ruins in the old Jewish district of the city. Our hostel happened to be right in the middle of the three most famous/biggest ones: Szimpla Kert, Instant, and Fodos (I think that was the name??). Szimpla is apparently the third best bar in the world and the oldest ruin pub in Budapest so we decided to head over there first. Personally, it was my favorite. I got some cheap Hungarian craft beer and we walked around the two levels of the bar. The first room you enter is more club like, with a makeshift dance floor and a couple bars on either side. If you go further back you'll find a giant rug where people smoke hookah and a garden area where you can smoke and chat with your drinks outside. Upstairs there's another bar and more seating plus a cool/weird music set up. I really like Szimpla, it was very calm and laid back, plus there was the option of dancing in the front but you totally didn't have to, most people just sat around and socialized.  Then we headed to Instant which is basically an American's dream. A gigantic, three story club (essentially). This one was so big, there was an entire floor for VIPs only. The other two floors were open though and once you got past the (suffocating) coat check, you were spat out into a room full of people buying drinks and moving around to other places. The deal with Instant is that each room has a different theme. So you can walk into one room and hear some intense EDM music or head downstairs and find the pop area (my favorite). There's a room for foosball, couch-talk, moshpits, the works. You get it. It was really fun and I can imagine a lot of people do acid or something and end up there. It was also crazy full of tourists.  What was really cool was how you could really tell these places were made from ruins. This was especially noticeable in Szimpla, with walls absolutely covered in graffiti and pieces of stone just missing or rebuilt for insulation purposes. I bet they never have to worry about heating though since they're so crowded all the time. After that adventure, we headed back to Big Fish and slept in a little bit (I emphasize little because "Ian" was loud again in the morning). The next day we packed up, saw the synagogue, saw the opera house (wow), and took the tram to the baths!!!! Which Budapest is super famous for, by the way!!!!!!! So the baths were a totally new experience too. I don't know how you can ever go back to the YMCA after experiencing those. It was weird but also cool? And smelly but also fun? And sometimes a little uncomfortable but usually pretty ok? We decided this would be our big splurge on our last day so we headed in and started checking out all the indoor baths first. They had a whirly pool (Becca's favorite and really fun), many many hot tubs, saunas (I tried one for the first time and thought I was suffocating. Not cool.), etc. Eventually we found the door out and got to go in the stupid pretty outdoor, heated pool! That was really awesome and definitely my favorite part. It's literally winter and I was in a bikini. Outside. I loved it.  After the baths, we took a cab to the airport (got robbed by the cab driver, ugh), and took our planes back (BUD>FCO>VCE). It was another long journey and I was starting to feel pretty awful by the time we left Rome. I hadn't actually gotten the chance to sleep more than maybe 7 hours a night since.....a month ago? So I was definitely getting sick. Also my legs were cramped as hell and I had crushed my little toes and gotten blisters/cuts from my new shoes! Fun!!!!! I texted my host mom when we got to Venice and she was so worried about me she actually came and picked us up from the train station (<3 her). Thank god for Paola.  Once I got home I pretty much collapsed (kind of literally because walking was not easy at that point). The next morning I think I had a fever? I didn't go to class, basically. And now the new Macbook is out. Crazy. Time moves fast, right? All in all, it was really an experience. I liked Budapest a lot but I missed Italy the whole time. It feels great to be home. Every time I leave Padova, I miss it more. God only knows what I'll do on May 23rd..... Till next time, ragazzi! 

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One month of Spritz

For those of you keeping track (aka me), Friday marked the one month-iversary of our time here in Padova. It's pretty hard to believe that it's been an entire month, now even longer than that, considering how not used to everything I am. I have midterms coming up in approximately two weeks... Is this a joke? So here I am, one month in, and only a little panicky about the fact that I only have three months left before getting on a plane and going home to Boston.  What did I even do this month? I guess a lot. I went to Venice a couple times to celebrate one of their biggest holidays. I went to Florence, Verona, Mantova, Sirmione, and explored my own Padova. I went to bars, new ones and old favorites, I drank white and red and rose wines. I had tremezzini and panini and calzoni and potato chips. I drank spritz almost every day around 5:30 or 6. I ate A LOT of gelato. I talked to my host parents about a million different things over many dinners as well as watched tv and discussed basically nothing. I skyped my parents twice, my boyfriend twice, my sister once, and called whenever I could. Has a lot happened? This weekend I'm going to Budapest after a class field trip to Venice. The weekend after that I'm going on a small trip with my host parents and the weekend after midterms we're all headed to Rome. The next weekend is Paris and then spring break sneaks up which will be entirely spent in Greece. How crazy is this? My entire next month is planned and exciting and even a little overwhelming. I feel like I haven't gotten a good nights sleep in the past month but I also think I've walked more and seen more than in that amount of time than I ever have. It's been busy and exhausting but beautiful and  breathtaking. Every minute I'm learning or experiencing completely new things. I knew this would happen because studying abroad isn't just taking classes it's discovering and understanding yourself--who you are in the world. I knew coming to Italy would change my life and make me a better, more worldly person. It's just strange to be here a month and know there's still three to go. It's strange seeing how I'm changing so quickly or the ways I'm not changing at all. It's confusing and delightful to have Paola and Bruno tell me my italian has gotten much better over the dinner table.  I don't think there's any moment that has characterized my time here better than those first few: the memory of the sunset over Piazza della Frutta with a cold Spritz Aperol in hand and shivering a little bit in my blanket scarf. The bus pulling into the parking lot behind Prato Della Valle and Paola saying hello for the first time. Waking up and hearing the bells of Santa Giustina and San Antonio ring underneath my alarm. There are a lot of beautiful things I've experienced here that I'll never be able to describe in words and never be able to feel precisely the same way again.  I guess one month isn't a long time and even four months is pretty short but for now it seems like a lot and that's all I could ask for. Cin-cin for one month of spritz and here's looking at three more.

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Feeling Small and Out of Place

Since coming to Padova, time has been moving very fast. I feel like I barely even got sleep to make up for the harrowing journey here and I was already off to Florence for the weekend. Sleeping is weird here because even though I do it and try to get well-rested, I'm not sure if I'm ever really resting at all or if I'm just constantly moving to the next plan or adventure. I'm not upset about it, it's been an exhilarating three weeks because of it, but I have woken up confused for about two weeks now.  This past week felt relatively slow in comparison. Even though a lot happened and I have a ton of homework due as well as presentations and projects (2 weeks in and I'm already so stressed), the whole 7 days since we got back from Florence have seemed to lag a bit. Maybe I'm finally comfortable enough here that things don't always seem shocking and new--but that's also not true because the other day a restaurant voluntarily gave us bread and we all got really confused and grabbed at it like it was our life line.  I miss America a lot sometimes. That sounds stupid and I'm sure everyone who's not abroad would read this as me being ungrateful for living in this amazing country and the opportunities I'm given while I'm here. But the truth is it's really hard to be away from home for so long. It's mostly missing my friends, who I see on their snapchat stories more than anything, and my boyfriend and even my parents (although I never see them during the semester anyways). But it's also missing Bertuccis and knowing that when I order a salad it'll be a meal, not an appetizer. It's knowing what an appetizer even is or what the ingredients listed on the menu mean. It's also diversity; it's been very weird and unnerving to walk down a street and only see white people. And I love Italian food more than anything but not having options to eat other food is somehow uncomfortable, even if I would choose Italian anyways. So on Friday we all decided to try out an Indian restaurant a girl recommended to us at a bar. It seemed like the right time--none of us had family dinners that night--and we all wanted to branch out from our usual cuisine.  That was an extremely weird experience. Walking into an Indian restaurant that reeks of incense in the middle of Italy is already confusing. Then, when we tried to order, the menus were all in English because that is the most predominant language they used at the restaurant, even though they were located in Padova. And we tried ordering in Italian but our waiters had such thick Indian accents that their Italian was virtually unrecognisable to us and, as it turned out, they spoke fluent English anyways.  So you can see how this was strange. They were so nice and the food was unbelievably good (we all want to go back soon), but we left completely ignorant of the fact that we were still in Italy. It was almost like we had accidentally stumbled into some classy Indian restaurant in Back Bay and were expecting to see the Pru on our left once we left. Instead we saw the tram going by and a bar across the street full of high schoolers. Talk about confusing.  When you're at home and go to a new cultural restaurant, it's exciting to pretend you're not in America anymore. Getting "away" from the culture you were born and raised in is easy because you know it's only temporary and you will come back to your house and watch The Daily Show and laugh about the US government until it's time to go to bed or school or whatever normal activity is next. But when you've uprooted yourself from that culture you know so well and travel to a place completely foreign, learning to detach and reattach takes so much more effort. Coming back after that dinner and having to remember Italian and where we were, even waking up the next morning, was excessively hard. I think the most work I've done since getting here is remembering where I am and what language I'm supposed to be speaking. But then there are moments when you are so utterly immersed in Italy that you can't imagine dragging yourself back out. These usually occur around dinner for me when Bruno decides he wants to know everything about the American health care system and I have to figure out what it is in English before translating my thoughts into Italian. I leave dinners with Paola and Bruno 90% more fluent than when I got to them. But, the next day, I go to BU and speak English with my friends and come home struggling all over again. It's remarkable how quickly your progress can change.  One of the most amazing total immersion moments I've had here was yesterday when I visited Basilica di sant'Antonio (lovingly nicknamed "Santo"). This church might be the most beautiful one I've ever stepped foot in, and that's saying a lot because I've seen most of the beautiful churches in the world. But Santo is so special. Becca and I wandered in after lunch because it was freezing and we hadn't really gotten a good look inside yet. We ended up coming in right after mass started (whoops) and awkwardly walked around the edges of the congregation during their prayers. It was so full of worshipers and tourists alike, I was starting to wonder what it would be like to have your church full of strangers all the time. But then I looked up. The ceilings in Santo are these gorgeous dark blue skies full of golden stars. It's one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen. And the way the domes spread out above you really make you feel like you're getting lost in the constellations. I'm pretty sure that's what the Great Hall in Hogwarts feels like.  We went to see the relics of Saint Antonio which were appropriately disgusting (his tongue and jaw were in attendance) and kept in these ornate cases. The entire chapel was so ornate it nearly killed me. I couldn't even begin to describe every detail of his massive tomb or the amazing sculptures in the walls. All I can tell you was standing in the middle of this gorgeous basilica and hearing the italians around me praying was an experience. I'm not one for religion but that felt special.  This week I want to see everything else Padova has to offer (which honestly is so much). Hopefully once I buy a bike it'll be even easier to get around! And hopefully it won't be rainy all week either. Once again, thank god for Padova. It's not easy but living here is never boring, that's for sure. 

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thx 4 da pix, firenze.

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Florence Nights 'n Rail: Hayley Gets Introspective

As you can obviously tell by my very clear and not at all forced pun title, I went to Florence with my friends last weekend! It was a joy to see fair Firenze for the third time; I was reminded of just how giant and gorgeous it is as soon as we got off the train and began wandering through the streets. We stayed at a spectacular hostel run by the most adorable woman named Nadia. As soon as we walked the short 15 minutes from the train station to the hostel, we checked in and got a very indepth introduction to the city. Nadia literally pulled out a map and began highlighting the walking routes so you'd hit every major sight: the Uffizi, Piazza della Signoria, il Duomo, Palazzo Pitti, Boboli Gardens, Ponte Vecchio, Piazzale Michelangelo, San Miniato, Santa Croce, even the David (although at that point I didn't want to pay for anymore tickets). We made it to every single one! Padova is actually incredibly close to Firenze and the train ride was a relatively easy hour and a half. Becca, Rachel, and I spent the whole time admiring the countryside and preventing our ears from popping when we neared the mountains around the city. We knew we'd arrive around 2 so we had reserved Uffizi tickets for 4. This meant post-Nadia talk we still had about an hour to walk around the Piazza della Signoria, compare prices for our future leather purchases at the market, and still make it to the gallery on time. It was lovely being in the museum again, the Birth of Venus looked gorgeous as usual, but I gotta tell you those steps never get easier. Also, the fact that you have to climb three stories just to get to the important paintings is some kind of cruel joke. Take the elevator if there isn't a giant tour right in front of you, it's honestly so necessary. And you only miss like a couple busts and things on the way up anyways.  Anyways, we saw everything. After the Uffizi the day was pretty much over so we found a tiny restaurant where we ate excessive amounts of white colored food and REALLY WEIRD BREAD. Guys, Florence has REALLY WEIRD BREAD. I cannot stress this enough. It's so weird. It's not salted. It's SO WEIRD. And tbqh it tastes pretty nasty. Even if you dip it in other things. You've been warned. The next day we got up really early and spent all day seeing the sights (part 2!). It was p cool and even though I was seeing everything for the second time I still loved it. I mean, how can you not love Florence? I could go there a hundred times and I'd still be like, "That building is beautiful and yes I would like to buy a leather purse." So all in all a successful weekend. There were even a couple surprises! When we were up at Piazzale Michelangelo a fuckin' rainbow came out. Like, is Florence joking? A rainbow. Just casually coming out right when we're at the absolute best view point for the entire city. It was stupid. In the best way. Obviously, all the tour groups lost their shit and a sea of selfie sticks came out but Becca, Rachel, and I managed to avoid getting wacked in the head to take a few of our own pics! No selfie sticks necessary. It was pretty unbelievable and perfect.  We also unexpectedly stumbled onto an impromptu chocolate fair next to the train station that night! We were looking for a restaurant and got pretty damn lucky by finding the fair instead. It was amazing; a whole piazza full of booths selling gourmet chocolate for basically nothing. Is there anything more satisfying than a waffle on a stick dipped in milk chocolate with nuts on top? Absolutely not. Trust me. So that was a fun and spontaneous night! We were going to attempt to find margheritas because I need one ASAP but we were so damn exhausted by like 11 (when we finished dinner, btw) that we couldn't be bothered to stay awake another minute. As a side note, my thighs are ridiculously strong now.  Sunday was short and sweet and we spent it visiting friends Rachel and Becca knew studying abroad in the city. Each one had something new or hilarious to tell us about their time there so far (not much longer than ours) and not a single one of them could speak Italian. Isn't that funny? All these people in Florence that come to study abroad and a ton of them have never taken Italian before or have only taken a semester? There are six people in our Italian and European Studies program and four in our Management Internship Program, neither of which require Italian classes before going abroad. That being said, only 7 or 8 of them have actually never taken it before and even less don't already know a second language. But in Florence there are hundreds (maybe thousands?) of American students just walking around, speaking English all the time! You cannot understand how strange that is for three girls that spend every night struggling through conversations entirely in Italian over dinner because their host families don't know a word of English. Nevermind the fact that we accidentally speak too loud and people stare at us as we walk through the streets of Padova.  It's a small thing but it makes a huge difference. I don't think any of us were that aware of how integrated we are into the Italian culture here in Padova. It seems like it should be obvious--Padova is a small city and even with it's proximity to Venice it's a little "off the beaten trail". I definitely run into tour groups here about 3 or 4 times a week but I would not say Padova really thrives on tourism. For the most part, people here live in an Italian bubble and it's really unique. Don't get me wrong, Venice is my favorite place in the world, but it can be kind of upsetting to ask a waiter, in perfect italian, for a cup of tea and have him ask you, "Milk or sugar?" It can seem helpful but mostly I'm just insulted that they don't trust me to speak in Italian. I mean, yes, I struggle and stumble along like any student abroad would but I make it work! Bruno (my host dad) and I just had a lengthy conversation about healthcare in the USA versus Italy! How many people can say they've done that in Italian??? That are from Maryland??? Just to narrow down the playing field cause I mean, come on, I bet tons of people have.  What I'm getting at here is that you don't find people that speak English in a small Italian town and you certainly won't find that many in Padova but that's the way I like it. I prefer living here because it means I actually get to understand and experience every aspect of this culture as well as practice my Italian on a daily basis. So many of the Florence programs, while giant and fascinating and amazing, let students live in apartments with other Americans. That is amazing for making friends and I have to admit there are times I wish I could go home and invite my friends over to watch a movie but I would (and did) give all that up just to have a real, genuine experience like this. Rachel, Becca, and I did not speak Italian once all weekend. We tried and prepared sentences in our heads to get ready for different social interactions but it never worked; the Florentines are amazing and they are all bilingual. There were several moments we would walk into a crowded pizza place or gelateria and only hear English. It's that prevalent. I began to forget I was even in Italy at all and not just in the Italy section in Epcot (hi chords). Actually, in Epcot I'm pretty sure I heard less English than in Florence.  I don't know what I'm trying to say here. I didn't dislike my time in Florence and the city is gorgeous and it's warmer there and they have amazing programs. I don't want anyone to think they shouldn't study there just because it's easier to get by without speaking Italian (some people don't even try to). I'm just saying I'm really lucky. There aren't many programs this integrated and challenging and rewarding, especially not within Italy. I may dread sounding like a 5 year old at dinner but I always leave with a smile because I had a great time talking about the weird, hilarious things Paola, Bruno, and I did that day and the weird, hilarious way we don't always understand each other. And the crazy thing is, we usually do! God bless Padova tbh. Florence was an amazing weekend away but I can honestly say it's good to be home. 

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The Most Important Post

Ever since I came to Padova, I knew this post would have to come into existence. After approximately five minutes in Padova, I was in love. Not because Prato della Valle is the second largest square in the world and coincidentally the most gorgeous. Not because the sun sets just as I'm walking home and paints the Venetian sky a beautiful pink and blue. Not because Paola was so friendly, our interactions so hilarious, or even the people so fascinating.  Guys, it's because of dogs. People in Padova fucking love their dogs. Puppies (cagnolino, the only word you should ever know in Italian) are literally everywhere. As my friend Jackie would say, "It's a close tie between hot Italian guys and really, really cute dogs". She's right. Except it's definitely not a tie because WOW dogs will win every time. They have it all: tails (fluffy or small), ears (also fluffy or small), faces, bodies, PAWS (are they kidding?!?!?!). I love dogs. I spent much of my life thinking I liked dogs, that they were "ok" but it was a lie and now I can tell the whole world! I love dogs! And the dogs here are the finest. They are absolutely everywhere. Every morning, afternoon, evening, basically every minute of every day people are walking their dogs. It makes sense because Padova, like Boston, is very much a walking city. I'd say they bike more than us but only by a close margin. The real winners are the dog-walkers who spend the day out in that gorgeous Italian sunlight.  As a consequence of the dogs, there is a lot, and I mean a lot, of pee on the sidewalks. Like, it's kind of everywhere. For a while I thought, "Wow, a lot of people are spilling water out of their water bottles," but it's pee. It's definitely pee. Some girl yesterday was walking her dog and it stopped to pee and she literally didn't even notice. And because all the sidewalks are this slippery rock stuff (actual material TBD), she just ended up dragging him/sliding him along while he was still peeing. Hence, the pee is everywhere.  But it's totally worth it because all of these dogs are 100% friendly and super pet-able and really fun to be around. I hyperventilate approximately 500 times more a day now because I get really overwhelmed every time I see a dog. Also, I saw the CUTEST dog probably in the world, and absolutely the tiniest, the other day. He was like a miniature of a miniature. He was so tiny I wasn't sure if he was real. And he looked like a black lab. A super super miniature black lab. You can't even imagine it. As my dear friend Abby Bornstein would say, "You're a dog! And you have a face!" I know what you're all thinking... "Hayley, if there are dogs everywhere, why don't you have pictures?! Where's the proof?!" To that all I can say is there are actually too many to photograph. My iPhone would officially have no memory. And also, I am WAY too overwhelmed to take a picture every time I see a cute dog. Are you kidding me?  Let me put it this way, if you leave Padova and you don't have the biggest urge to buy a dog, were you even in Padova at all?

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l'ospedale e l'isola di san michele.

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Carnevale di Venezia

If you know anything about me, you know (or can infer) that Venice is my favorite place in the world. For a city that began by acting as a safe haven for Italians in the 5th century, it has stood the test of time (and water) ever since.  But Carnevale...that's something entirely different. I remember the first time I visited Venice. I stayed for four days with my family in a small apartment that we rented, not too far from San Marco. The location was amazing, you only needed to go down maybe 4 different alleyways, pass one restaurant with an overly friendly waiter, to get to the Grand Canal. Throwing open my shutter in the morning to see a cart rolling by with fresh fruit may have been the moment I fell in love with Italy. Or maybe it was the night Alexis and I got lost and wound up in a small park (which was actually only maybe 100 feet from San Marco). Somewhere during those 4 days, though, it happened and I've never been able to get enough since.  If every person in the world could spend carnevale in Venice, I think we would be better for it. The city is completely alive; there are people absolutely everywhere, to the point that getting around the Rialto is almost impossible and you start to worry this ancient bridge could crack beneath you. And everyone is in a mask. The second we got off the train at Santa Lucia, the booths and kiosks selling masks were ready to go. We walked to Rialto from the station, through the smallest of alleyways, all the while following every "Per Rialto" sign. Somehow I walked through a small archway next to a farmacia, exited the following piazza, and was there. My friends praise me for my directional skills but Venice makes it easy. Or maybe we've just developed a kind of understanding at this point? I like to think so.  I was lucky enough to find my perfect mask the second we reached San Marco (ok, yes, we took a vaporetto to the square, we had already walked a lot, don't judge me) (and YES, FINE, I had to look at maybe 10 different booths before deciding to buy mine but whatever these are technicalities no one really cares). Everyone, and I mean everyone, has warned us before we left of "acqua alta! acqua alta!". Aka, the two days before we went to Venice, the weather was absolute crap--freezing cold and raining for two days. #fun. So the water in Venice was expected to be especially high since rain does that and also Venice is sinking (just a little bit). But it was actually fine, you barely got wet walking in the piazze and the Duomo only has it's little puddles around it, as usual. Super avoidable.  I don't know if I can even put all the things we saw into words. It was unreal. After entering San Marco, the six of us ran into another group of people from our program (literally, what are the chances in a city currently full of a million tourists) and headed to a cafe for drinks. We searched through the alleyways for probably half an hour (a long time after you've been standing and walking all day) and when we finally couldn't walk anymore settled for a cafe on the Grand Canal that extremely ripped us off. It was a rude awakening and the waiter was clearly upset we weren't planning on dropping 200 euros there. But while we sat there we got extremely lucky and were able to see a parade go right past us! The Venetians were dressed in costume and wigs (not unusual, actually, during carnevale) and traveled down the Canal with flags and swords, even carrying a hoard of princesses on their shoulders. It was extravagant and gorgeous and luxe and perfect. I couldn't have asked for anything better, except maybe not getting charged 5 euros for a cup of tea.  After the parade ended, we decided to visit my favorite bookstore in the world, Libreria Acqua Alta, that I first found when my high school Italian teacher (hi Farro) gave me directions to it during our trip junior year. My friends were similarly impressed and I was so excited to be in a place I remembered. 

It's funny because even in this amazing country with all these amazing things, I'm still struggling to find comfort. I love the food, the people, the buildings, even the air but everything is different. Even though I eat pasta for approximately every meal at home, here it's not the same. And while I love Padova and Italy so so so much, I have yet to feel comfortable. About the closest I have gotten was petting the black cat at Libreria Acqua Alta while flipping through a cookbook. That moment was familiar and it felt good to get lost in the memory for a second. 

After the bookstore, we got lost again (this time on purpose) and ended up next to the hospital which has a gorgeous view of the cemetery island, Isola di San Michele. We took another break in another bar, drank our spritz, and let the sun set, painting a small ribbon of pink on the horizon. There are a million reasons to love Venice. Let the picture above be your reason number one.

Allora. We ate an amazing meal at a small, adorable restaurant called Barababao (SO MUCH FUN TO SAY). That entire process was hilarious because when we called the restaurant we ended up reaching some random guy who told us the restaurant no longer used that number but he would "pass along the message" of our reservation. So basically we had no clue whether or not they knew we were coming. Lucky for us, the guy was on his game because when we got there at 7:00, our table was ready and we still had 30 minutes to roam the streets and shop before dinner.  We found our way back to the beginning on a vaporetto from Rialto. Despite the freezing temperatures, we all wanted to sit in the front so we could watch the city at night. There were several buildings lit up in colorful lights in celebration and people turned basically every possible piazza into a dance club. It was hilarious and amazing and fun. I wish we could have stayed all night and danced and drank with them but we were all sufficiently exhausted after all that walking. But still, even with the city fading behind me, I couldn't be sad. I had finally experienced carnevale, gotten a mask, and walked the streets I had missed for 4 years.  Besides, I'll be back. Even the Italians couldn't stay away long. They kept returning to find shelter when attacks rained down on them and eventually decided not to leave. They buried tree trunks in the ground and the wood grew hard, like rock, for them to build houses on. They built the most magnificent city in the world from virtually nothing because they couldn't leave it. You can never leave Venezia. Not for long. She'll always keep you coming back for more. 

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A photograph.

Mornings in Padova are a curious animal. The city seems to have two distinct personalities: the slow-moving, local traffic during the wee hours and the fast-paced, crowded (and sometimes startling) speed of the afternoons.  My first morning in Padova was spent arm-and-arm, walking down Via Umberto and Via Roma with my host mom. She would stop every ten feet or so to show me a pasticceria that I needed to eat at or a store where she bought her slippers (which she assumed I needed since I complimented hers the night before). I was so distracted by the enormity of everything that I didn't get a chance to see the people. There's a man with almost black hair that I pass every morning on my way to school. He sits under one of the portacini on Via Roma, just before the intersection with Via Breda, and sings. He has an old acoustic guitar and strums with fervour, as if it's not 8:30 in the morning but actually dinner time. There are maybe 20 or 30 people that I pass that early in the morning and he serenades us all. 

But then comes the afternoon, when everyone has woken up and has a million things to do. Because I have class from 9 to 11 I tend to find myself roaming the city around lunch time. No one is working, everyone is at a cafe or bar or just sitting in the piazze. Padovani, despite the rather chilly temperatures, are all about being outside. I think it's safe to assume most of Europe feels this way, but the Padovani... they do it in style. There's a certain ease and confidence that comes with a couple casually making out next to a statue, a mother stopping in Pam for her groceries, or even the elderly gentlemen that stroll slowly to Cafe Peddrochi where they can drink their coffee in a gorgeous work of art much older than they are.  When I leave the BU building to head to the mensa and get lunch, I forget for a second where I am. Walking out onto Via Santa Lucia is like entering Italy for the first time all over again. There are a million and a half places in the world I want to see and am excited to visit but I feel that way every day here. The way the sunrise hits the statues in Prato della Valle just right when I leave my house in the morning takes my breath away. Even the pigeons--who are much too confident for their own good--are hilarious and part of the charm here. I've inadvertently found myself part of a group of maybe a hundred italian kids that try to scare the pigeons every day and I laugh along with the rest of them. 

There is so much life here. This city, which is much larger than you would expect, has such a vitality to it and every person that lives here captures that vitality in themselves. I walk around feeling like a dull lightbulb in comparison. But we'll see what happens. Until then, I'll just keep throwing euros at the singer on Via Roma, maybe even hum as I walk by.