#4371miles

[4371miles]

So long, Trento!

Well guys. I’ve left Trento for the last time.

It’s a strange feeling. On one hand, I’m very excited to go home and see all of my (wonderful, patient, long-suffering) friends and family. On the other, I’m heartbroken to leave my life in Trento. 

There’s no way to express what my time in Trento means to me. This past year has been by turns joyful, difficult, adventurous, and sometimes even lonely (as well as any number of other dramatic adjectives). I’ve traveled all over Europe. I’ve seen and done things I’ve dreamed of my entire life. Yet ultimately, I think it’s Trento that’s had the most impact. 

Those of you who live there can laugh all you want but you know what I mean. I don’t mean the city itself; rather, those of you I’ve met over the course of my exchange. This post is for you and all of our adventures together. Between evening chillouts, endless rounds of Monopoly, and more mischief than I’m willing to admit to in a blog that’s read by my university, you guys took this year above and beyond anything I could have ever hoped for. 

Without further ado, here are some particularly excellent photographic highlights of our time in the Trent:

 Phoebe and I tackling an entire season of Grey’s Anatomy...and a cake.

Jamming with Somhairle and Florian.

The crew of the Agatha Christie enjoying a rest after a hard day of sailing.  

Contemplating cellulite, Patrick Swayze movies, and the habits of Lutherans.  

Decorating the beautiful Farid!

Above: the world’s biggest demon sneep. Also an expert on Ayn Rand, punishment wine, and dabbing ineffectually.

There are a million more excellent moments that I’d love to write about (and heaven knows too many pictures), but I’ll spare you all the mushiness. You guys know.

Thanks guys.

All my love,

(Tr)ashland

[4371miles]

Ashland’s Adventures in Amsterdam

They’re all rated PG. Promise.

In case you haven’t worked it out from the title of this post, I recently went on a trip to Amsterdam with my gorgeous BFF Ruth.

                                                 This is a Ruth.

We both avoided planning anything about this trip (probably due to extreme laziness but I’m choosing to believe that it was instead  our innate sense of adventure that had us leaving everything until the last minute). Either way, it ended up working out pretty well in the end! Our hostel was on a boat, which was pretty wild. The two of us crammed into this teeny little room and tried not to trip over each other. It was like being at camp! Except without the arts and crafts.

                                      And with an awesome breakfast.

Anyway, we really didn’t plan anything. We decided to let spontaneity take over and spent most of our time wandering around the city. Day one was pretty tame; we took a canal boat ride and went to the cat museum.

                       Both excursions were fun, but the cat museum was my personal favorite. It’s full of weird (and faintly creepy) cat artwork. ALSO: We saw the actor who played Mr. Schneebly from the movie School of Rock. So. That was cool. 

Actually, Ruth saw him. I was being oblivious, as usual. 

Day two involved a trip to the Heineken brewery! My dad almost exclusively drinks Heineken and has as long as I can remember, so I primarily wanted to go as sort of a tip of the hat to him. Also, the beer is good. So.

Really, though, it was interesting learning about how the beer is made. The vats look like something out of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.

The tour was actually one of the few things we pre-planned. In an attempt to counteract this gross breach of conduct, I decided to get a tattoo. Okay, so it wasn’t entirely impulsive; I’ve been thinking about getting another one for awhile. The timing (and the tattoo itself), though, were entirely spur of the moment. I didn’t really know what I was doing until I got into the tattoo parlor. Doesn’t matter, though. I think they both turned out perfectly.

                                      “Let the wild rumpus start!”

A brief explanation: it’s from the children’s book Where the Wild Things Are. It’s one of my all-time favorite stories and pretty much shaped my early existence. I can distinctly remember my dad reading it to me before bed on multiple occasions. The general premise of the story is that Max (the protagonist) leaves home and goes on a adventure that takes him far, far away from home. While it’s very scary at first, he overcomes his worries and befriends the Wild Things. Together, they conduct wild rumpuses and get up to all sorts of mischief. While Max loves the Wild Things, he eventually realizes that no matter where he goes or how many wonderful creatures he meets, home will always be waiting. 

There’s a bit more to it than that, but basically it’s a reminder to myself to stop being so completely lame all the time. The scariest adventures often end up being the most rewarding. Best of all, there’s always home.

Anyway, time to stop being disgusting. The rest of the trip went really well. We befriended a group of English guys around our age and wandered around with them for awhile. The highlight of the trip, though, was probably our visit to the Anne Frank house.

I think you all know what time it is.

STORY TIME.

Okay. So. Mom and Jason got married when I was around 8 or 9. That summer was also the first summer we went to England. As usual, I didn’t have anything to read (it’s a chronic problem), so Momma went into the shop at the airport and came back with a book. Now, my mother has always been excellent about funding my habit. However, it’s rare that she suggests a book. Anyway, she came out of the shop, handed me a book, and said “I know I don’t usually tell you what you should or shouldn’t read, but you need to read this. It’s important.” 

Any guesses as to what it was?

Yup. The Diary of a Young Girl. 

Ten points if you guessed correctly. Mom was right, though; it was important. It was my first real introduction to the horrors of the Holocaust. It was also the first time I’d read something so personal from someone so near my own age (although Anne was a little older when she was writing). It became one of those books that I read again and again. Even in the face of terrible things, Anne retained a sense of hopefulness that was inspiring.

In some ways, she became a familiar friend. It was the first time that I’d seen another person’s innermost thoughts laid so completely bare. Anne navigated first crushes, budding sexuality, family frustrations - all while hiding in an annex with seven other people.

I guess what I’m saying is that I have this problem where certain books just shake my entire foundation. This was one of them.

Anyway, since that particularly fateful afternoon, I’ve had a burning desire to go and visit the secret annex. Partly for myself and for my mom, because I know it’s something she would love to do. Mostly, though, it was for Anne. I needed to see and do my best to understand.

The entire excursion was pretty much me trying not to be overwhelmed. It was pretty incredible, though. You walk through the office and climb through the bookcase. All of the pictures she writes about cutting out of magazines and pasting to her bedroom walls are still there. At the end of the museum, they have her original manuscripts. It was powerful. It was heartbreaking. 

I’m not trying to be presumptuous. Quite obviously, I never knew Anne. But growing up reading her diary - she was very much a large part of my adolescence. Visiting the annex was, in a weird way, a tribute to a friend.

And, if I may say so, one hell of a way to round off my travels.

[4371miles]

The Hills are Alive...

with the sound of music!!

I’m doing this post separately from the other one, since it ended up being quite long. I was going to do all of my familial adventures together in one post, but it just wasn’t practical. So, here’s part two!

A few days after I returned from England, my parents came to visit!! It was super exciting, since I hadn’t seen them since Christmas. 

I missed those losers.

                          Here I am with my momma!

Since they’d seen most of Trento upon their last visit, this time we decided to go adventuring.

Namely, Salzburg. (Hence the Sound of Music reference in the title.)

We only got to spend a few days together (and only one and a bit of those in Salzburg), but it was still awesome. I don’t remember the last time I spent time with my parents minus my brother. Not that I don’t miss that little idiot (because I definitely do), but it’s always nice to spend quality time with the ‘rents. Sorry, Dax!

Anyway, we rented a car and drove a few hours up to Salzburg. 

It was incredible. Not just as some who obsesses over musicals (which we alreadyestablished a few posts ago), but just as a city. It was gorgeous.

       I have about 50 photos of this fountain. It was just really photogenic, okay?

We got up to as much mischief as one can in a day and a half. We visited Mozart’s house, which was interesting.

And we did the official Sound of Music tour, which was even more interesting!

(To me, at least. I definitely think this excursion was at least in part to humor me, although I think Mom and Jason enjoyed themselves a good bit.)

We learned all sorts of trivia about the movies while we popped from location to location. Also, our tour guide yodeled to get our attention. How cool is that?

                                         And how cool is THIS?

Unfortunately, I couldn’t frolic inside the gazebo. They have it locked, because people kept jumping (or trying to jump) from bench to bench and seriously injuring themselves.

I probably would’ve been one of them.

Really, though, it was a great trip! Other than that, we just explored Salzburg. We ate fancy food (Europe’s oldest restaurant, anyone?) and drank good beer and just enjoyed spending time together. It definitely wasn’t long enough, but hey - two more months, right?

                       Extreme excitement from all quarters about this picture.

[4371miles]

Easter in England

NOTE: This is going to be a very long, very photo-heavy post. Sorry. Ish.

ANOTHER NOTE: Most of my adventures this trip were based in the literary world. Which basically equates to me freaking the heck out over the next few paragraphs. If you’re not into reading about me being a huge nerd, I recommend clicking away now. You’ve been warned.

Last month, I got to spend an unprecedented amount of time with my family - first with my grandparents in England over Easter week and then the week after when my parents came to visit me in Trento! Needless to say, it was pretty exciting (and also much-needed. I missed those guys).

So, let’s pick up where we left off.

Stacey and I woke up at four in the morning and made our way to the Lisbon airport, where we went our separate ways. Minus a small delay, everything went smoothly; I was in England in no time at all. (Actually, it was like two hours. Whatever.)

STORY TIME: I made a friend on the plane! Originally, I thought I was being flirted with (lots of prolonged eye contact and smiling). Keep in mind: at this point, I’d been awake for almost 24 hours and was both disgusting (and delirious) from sleep deprivation. I realized my mistake after he told me he wanted to move to NYC, since his favorite TV show was set there. Any guesses?

Sex and the City.

                                        Above: Actual depiction of me.

Either way, he was terribly friendly and it made the flight much more enjoyable.

Anyway, my lovely grandparents picked me up at Gatwick and we promptly went adventuring!

First, we went to Lewes to see the Anne of Cleves house. More importantly, we went to a bookstore that’s been around since the 15th century and has lots of reduced books.

                          Lots of self restraint involved in this visit. I did end up with a                                beautiful hardback collection of Oxford English poetry, though.                            Thanks Lainey and Ian!

We did all sorts of things this visit! We went to Brighton, a.k.a. one of my favorite places ever. Easter was lovely. We visited a craft fair for my grandpa, who makes really neat cards (which you should all check out at www.vintagepics.co.uk). Said craft fair was at a llama park, which only made it better. My aunt Sharon and I were in hysterics the entire time.

                                         Can you blame us?

We also visited Canterbury, which was really neat. Since it was Easter weekend, there were tons of pilgrimages going on. We ended up there alongside the youth pilgrims. I felt it was pretty fitting, what with The Canterbury Tales being sort of a huge thing and all (as well as one of the more interesting parts of my early English literature classes). The cathedral was...very impressive, to say the least.

Post-cathedral, we went to Stratford-upon-Avon. 

Yeah.

HECK yeah.

The visit actually involved sort of a package tour of all of the important places in Shakespeare’s life, which was really neat. We saw his birthplace, Anne Hathaway’s cottage, his daughter’s home, his neighbor’s home, and his mother’s farm. Which, I might add, is still a functioning Tudor farm. Everyone dresses in costume and addresses you as “mistress” and you learn about basket-weaving and blacksmithing and any number of other farm-related activities. It was awesome! Actually, all of the houses very extremely interactive. 

                                      I had to. #shakespeareliveshere

His birthplace even had Shakespeare Aloud going on outside!! I could’ve listened for hours. For those of you who don’t know, Shakespeare Aloud is a troupe of professional actors who hang out and recite/act out passages from Shakespeare. Pretty self-explanatory, really.

OH. We also visited his grave.

As a super special treat, my grandparents took me to see Arthur Miller’s Death of a Salesman, which was being done by the Royal Shakespeare Company.  

Oh.

My.

God.

It was fantastic. I can’t even begin to adequately express how great it was. It was heartbreaking. The set was really interesting, too; all of the flashbacks were lit by green, leaf-patterned lights, as if all of the years had been washed away and instead the apartment complex was surrounded by trees as opposed to dreary buildings. 

 Pre-show. Lucky I didn’t drop the camera with how hard I was hyperventilating.

I was really, really excited to see this performance. It had been awhile since I’d read Death of Salesman and I’m pretty sure I didn’t understand it, anyway. Actually, I can guarantee I didn’t really understand it. Another fun fact: Death of  a Salesman was the first play I ever read. I was probably twelve or thirteen and at that point in my life where I was reading literally anything I could get my hands on, just so I could have something to read. (To clarify: I’m still at that point in my life. I just have a lot less free time, what with having hobbies and friends and such.) 

Anyway, I read and enjoyed Death of Salesman and while I knew it was sad, I wasn’t really sure why. Other than the obvious reasons, of course. The subtleties were a little beyond me. I mean, what does a thirteen year old know about betrayal? Or the death of dreams?

Granted, this particular 21 year old also doesn’t know a whole lot about either of those things. But I digress. My point is that it was really neat seeing it done and being old enough to at least understand what was really going on beneath the surface.

On our way home from Stratford-upon-Avon, we stopped for a visit at Oxford! We did a tour of the Bodleian Library (I can die happy) and the School of Divinity (where they filmed part of the Harry Potter series!)

All in all, I’d call it a pretty successful trip. I had an absolute blast spending time with my grandparents and my aunt. I don’t get to do it as often as I’d like, so it was a really wonderful visit.

                                       This fellow agrees.

[4371miles]

Lisbon

Well, guys. I have a new favorite city.

                                                Can you blame me?

Unfortunately, we didn’t have a lot of time in Portugal - only 2 and a half days. The only reason we were going to at all was to see Joan Baez perform. Which, I might add, was amazing.

                                               So was this.

I would regale you with some entertaining tale...but I don’t really have one. Our two and a half days were mostly spent eating some seriously incredible food (almond cakes all day, every day) and lounging on the beach. We’re going to call it a cultural experience, regardless.

Actually, though, we did join the hostel one evening for a night of traditional Portuguese music called fado. It’s usually characterized by a sort of melancholy tone and a specific structure. Unfortunately, I didn’t get a decent recording, but I would highly recommend listening to some if you get a chance.

                                         Have some neat graffiti. 

We also accidentally ordered an entire fish...oops.

                                   To be fair, it was pretty delicious.

That’s about it! Our trip to Lisbon ended up being a much-needed beach vacation.

                                    Which is perfectly fine with me.

[4371miles]

Firenze

Otherwise known as Florence. This blog post is seriously overdue and I apologize. We’ve been traveling a ton. Also, the weather here has been absolutely gorgeous, leaving me with a terrible case of Spring Fever and an inability to accomplish anything whatsoever.  A note before we begin: this is essentially going to be another post where I giggle about statues.

                                             Shocking, I know.

While Stacey and I were only there for a long weekend, we managed to fit quite a bit in. We visited the Uffizi, the Galleria dell’Accademia, the Duomo, and a bunch of other places.

                                                Have some Duomo.

We also took a tour of a local villa that produces wines and olive oil! It was actually really neat - even if it was just an excuse to drink fancy wine and eat bread. In all seriousness, though, it was incredibly interesting; I didn’t know anything about making either olive oil or wine. Since Stacey and I ended up being the only people on the tour, it was very involved. Our guide, Steve, answered all of our questions. It turns out that he’s a trained singer currently focusing on ancient sacred music and (since it was just us) even gave us a private performance that was absolutely incredible.

After our tour of the villa, we meandered into the Tuscan countryside to have lunch at a 1,000 year old farmhouse where we learned how to make pasta, which surprisingly didn’t turn out too badly (don’t ask me to do it, though, because it’s not going to happen). We visited with the owner of the property, a sweet older lady named Christine, who supplemented our pasta with some of the best food I’ve ever eaten in my entire life. She also had a cat, which provided further bonus points.

                             Oh, and this was the view from the porch.

It ended up being a really unique experience and one that I would happily replicate.

So, then. Let’s talk about statues!

The Uffizi is one of the oldest and most famous museums...ever. Originally built to accommodate the offices of Florentine magistrates, it quickly turned into a place for the Medici family to house their extensive collections of statuary, paintings, and frescoes. In its heyday, it was also a place for famous artists and thinkers to hang out with the Medici family - you know, people like Da Vinci and Michelangelo. No big deal.

Another of my favorites was the Botticelli room.

    You can’t tell by the photo, but this is huge. It takes up most of a wall.

I just think Botticelli is interesting, really. Rumor has it that when Savonarola went on his ultra-moral rampage through Florence, Botticelli jumped on board and burned quite a few of his works in the Bonfire of the Vanities. I’d tell you more about it (and the painting), but I don’t have my notes with me from my Italian Renaissance class and Wikipedia is singularly unhelpful.

So yeah! There’s Florence in a nutshell. We also saw David in the Accademia, which left us awe-struck. 

                        Therefore, we had to take a selfie with him. Naturally. 

We also visited the Basilica di Santa Croce and saw the graves of Dante, Michelangelo, Galileo, and their cohorts. It was...indescribable, really. Amazing, is the best I can do for the moment. When I eventually come up with a better descriptor (inevitably after this has been posted), I’ll let you guys know. In the meantime, more pictures can be located on Facebook.

Ciao!

[4371miles]

Springtime in Paris

...or something like that.

As I struggle out of my hibernation and back into a semi-normal existence, I find myself being almost disgustingly busy. I mean that in the best way, of course - spring is always busy, after all, and it’s refreshing after a winter of lurking in my room. We’ve been back at classes for a few weeks now and so far, so good. They’ve all been really interesting/pertinent to my major, which is delightful. Obviously ( or at least it is if you keep track of me on my other of social media accounts), this semester has been full of travel. It’s only going to get crazier. Let’s try to get caught up, shall we?

As you’ve hopefully figured out by now, dear readers, we’re going to be talking about Paris today. Fasten your seatbelts, because this is going to be one wild ride full of art, bones, and some really, really hardcore fangirling.

Are you ready?

                                    This gentleman certainly is.

Let’s do this. 

First order of business: art/architecture. Now, I know this is a a rather broad category, so just bear with me. So, I’ve been to Paris before. A couple of times, actually. Therefore, you would think that at some point I would inevitably get tired of taking photos of the Eiffel Tower. 

                                                       You 

                                                      Would

                                                         Be

                                                      Wrong.

So very wrong. This is just a tiny selection of the majesty. I actually have a pretty embarrassing number of photos. Unfortunately, we didn’t go to the top; the lines were quite long and most of the time the weather was pretty grey and windy, so we didn’t see much of a point.

That being said, we did take a tour bus around the city. It was a pretty great way to see some absolutely incredible architecture (and it saved us a massive amount of time and effort getting from landmark to landmark). I won’t bombard you with photos of random buildings (also, they’re all on Facebook), but just know it was incredible. I could never get tired of just looking at Paris.

Probably the highlight of the art segment, though, was our trip to the Louvre! We didn’t get to spend as much time there as we would have liked, but it was still incredible. Everyone says you need a full day to really do it properly, but there’s absolutely no way to comprehend the enormity of it all until you’re actually inside. I’ve never been anywhere more beautiful or more massive. Obviously, we saw the usual highlights: the Mona Lisa, Winged Victory at Samothrace, etc. My personal favorites, though, were the miscellaneous sculptures. Not only do I find sculpture fascinating as an art form (It always leaves me awe-struck. l’ll never understand how people turn blocks of marble into such incredible things.), but it also leaves me giggling with gems such as these:

                              How I feel about 90% of the time.

                                            “Psych! Loser.”

Now, this last adventure I’m tacking under the art category for two reasons. A) It really is an art, and B) We’re saving the fangirl category for something really special. 

That’s right, readers. I saw a show at the Moulin Rogue. It was incredible - and extraordinarily cheesy, which is partly why I enjoyed it so much. The dancing was phenomenal, sure, but what really made it for me was the silly music and ridiculous costumes. While it wasn’t entirely what I’d imagined (thanks, Baz Luhrmann), it was still very special. I would also do it again in a heartbeat. Our hostel was a very short walk from here, which made life easy, since the show didn’t end until almost 2 am. Speaking of which, the hostel was in a pretty cool area in general - very young and student-y. 

Next stop: bones. By bones, of course, I’m referring to Les Catacombes, one of the largest ossuaries in the world. It holds the remains of about 6 million people.

While the tour only takes you through about a mile of the tunnel system, it actually extends about 200 miles. The rest is off-limits to explorers, I suppose to discourage vandalism and stop people getting lost. Fun fact: there’s only one documented case of someone becoming lost in the catacombs! His name was Philibert Aspairt and he was a doorkeeper for the Val-de-Grace hospital. In 1792, he wandered down into the catacombs through an entrance in the hospital courtyard and promptly disappeared for the next 11 years.

Spoiler: he was dead. Very dead. So, they buried him where he was found and erected a marker.

The moral of the story here, friends, is that we don’t wander into a 200 mile tunnel system of quarries, caves, and bones alone. Buddy system. Always.

                                    These guys can vouch for it.

Alright. It’s time to be serious for a moment. If you’re not in the mood for story time, I suggest you just skip to the end. As I’m sure many of you know, I have a slight weakness for musicals. Particularly movie musicals. And by slight, I mean massive and borderline problematic. It started at an early age. I was probably around 10 or 11 when the movie musical for The Phantom of the Opera came out. It was a pivotal point in my young life; I was still at an age where going to the movies was a special treat and not just something to do on the weekend. I was with my best friend Sarah and her wonderful mother. We’d gone downtown to the old Warner Theatre and until this point, I didn’t know it existed. Walking in, I thought it was the most magical place I’d ever seen. Everything was red and gold and plush and it seemed so much fancier than the other theatre. In retrospect, I think it was just older. But to 11 year old me, it was exactly the place movies should be watched.

(It still is, but that’s beside the point. Y’know, since it’s closed and everything.)

Anyway, I walked out of that theatre a totally different creature. I was obsessed. Not just with the musical - with all of it, with the lore. I tracked down the novel and read it until the cover fell off and pages started falling out. I watched every iteration of the story, including the one from 1925 with Lon Chaney and the absolutely atrocious 1989 horror/gore-tastic version. Paris became my dream. It was so fantastical and dark. 

I think what’s most important for me about Phantom, though, isn’t the story or the musical itself. I know there are better, less weird options. Let’s face it - Andrew Lloyd Webber is extremely weird. He wrote the entire thing as rather creepy tribute to his then-wife Sarah Brightman. He also looks like a naked mole rat.

No, what’s important about Phantom for me is that it became such a cornerstone for mine and Sarah’s bestfriendship. Bad day? Make some pizza rolls, put on Phantom and we’ll cry it out. Good day? Make some pizza rolls, put on Phantom, and tell each other all about it. 

                              They just seem to go together.

When the 25th anniversary edition came out, we marathoned and compared notes. Don’t get me wrong - we have other inside jokes and favorite movies, what have you. Phantom is just our go-to. Honestly, I think it might’ve been the first movie we went to together.

So. Anyway. Do you know what I did in Paris this time around?

                            I WENT TO THE FREAKING OPERA HOUSE.

                                              AND I WENT IN

                          AND I SAW THE FREAKING CHANDELIER 

(which actually did break at one point at one point in the opera’s history. A counterweight came free and came crashed through the ceiling. It only killed one person, which is pretty impressive, really. Oh, also, this incident inspired the similar scene in the novel!)

                       AND I TOOK A SELFIE WITH THE PHANTOM’S BOX.

Also known as Box 5, for those of you who know what’s up. The little plaque just says that the box belongs to the Phantom. Anyway, I’m basically in hysterics in this picture. 

This little excursion couldn’t have come at a better time. As most of you know, Sarah and I have been best friends pretty much since the womb. She recently joined a convent and I’m so, so proud of her. She’s following her calling, which is so brave and incredible. While we write letters back and forth (I love having a pen pal), sometimes it’s just not the same as being able to text or call. I guess what I’m saying is that it was really nice to do something that made me feel close to her and, in turn, close to home. I’m looking forward to telling her about it and sending her the fabulous postcard I got for her. 

Okay, stupid gushy tangent over. Promise. Long story short: Paris was amazing and I would happily spend the rest of my life there. I also have photos of the opera house that aren’t Phantom-related that I might post on here at some point, if people are interested. 

I think that about sums it up! I should probably sign off now - I have to be awake and functioning in approximately three hours. We leave for Portugal tomorrow! If I’m not dead tired, I’ll try and write a post about Florence while I’m on the train/plane.

I wouldn’t get your hopes up, though. 

Goodnight, all.

[4371miles]

So, uh, this is my grandpa. He's turning 101. And he's the best. Happy (early) birthday, Pap!