It is officially ladies and gentleman, I have moved. I am currently sitting in my new room and I couldn't be happier. (Thats not true at all, if you gave me a double double with some fries and coke...oh gosh. Throw in a cool $10 million too)
I have unpacked all my clothes and put up my posters (warriors, Gladiator, and Sopranos. Slight apprehension when I put that one up but its cool). Now, it is time to have some fun. I mean study. Now it is time to study.
In order to properly understand the last few days, I must take you back in time. I must take you to the departing of myself and G-Sep and the arrival to Casa Nostra (that is what Im calling my spot.)
As I stated in the last entry, I was extrememly excited once I saw the apartments and immediately went back and packed as I thought I could move in the following day. In typical Italian beaurocratic fashion, there were complications and I was forced to wait. Mind you I had already packed up everything in my room and was no forced to live out of my suitcase while fearing for my life when G-Sep went through his morning routine.(see last entry)
Once everything was cleared, and I was told I could move, I had to properly plan the goodbye with G-Sep.It had to be just right. Couldnt be too serious or anything. It wasnt like I disliked the guy or anything. We had nothing in common other than we were both of the male species and each had two nostrils.
When I was ready to leave the room, G-Sep was nowhere to be found. I figured I would just leave and not say anything. I mean, it would probably be better this way. It wasnt like I was breaking up with him. I wasn't firining him. I will never see this cat again. So does it make a difference if I say anything? No. But I couldnt just go out like that. I came up with a perfect plan that would show I care but not that much. Kinda like that half-ass Christmas present you give to someone who you are cool with but not that cool with.
Anyway, I decided I would write him a brief note saying good luck with your studies in italian and cap it off with a postcard of The Golden Gate Bridge. (Great touch, I know. How do I come up with these things.) As I headed out of my room, I gave it one last glance................. to make sure I didnt forget anything.
When I arrived at my new spot, I was greeted by all the inhabitants. I wasn't expecting this but, nonetheless, was pleasantly surprised. My current suite mates are ass follows:
Ivan-(pronounced E-Vahn). 22 years old. From Lecce, small town in the South where I was for three weeks prior to Bologna. Real friendly dude who's computer I have used twice to talk to my ma on skype. The second time of which I interupted a...um...study session with his girlfriend. He took me out on the town last weekend and hooked a brotha up when it came to the drinks. Unfortuantely, he has to move out on Oct. 1
Gennaro-(pronounced Ja-Nar-Oh) Age unknown. Oldest of the group. Does not attend university but rather has a 9-5 and wears a suit and tie everyday. Why he lives in student housing, who knows? He asked me yesterday how old I thought he was and I said 24 and he told me to stop lying and tell the truth. I did not know how to respond. Wont be talking about age with this guy too much more. He cooked me some pasta the other day with meat sauce that his mom sent to him. Best sauce Ive had hands down like its 6:30. He also paid for my laundry the first night.
Gianpiero- (pronounced John-P-Ero) Age unknown. From Sicily. I asked him about cannoli's yesterday. He has, since I have arrived, worn a very interesting shirt several times. It says, in English: 'Why drink and drive, when you can smoke and fly?' I am least cool with him out of the group. He is a great guy who likes to have fun though. Also has a receding hairline with a mohawk...what a sight it is!
Luigi- (no need) 20 years old. From Bari, small town in South. He is my roomate. Hates a clean shave. Carries a man purse with im wherever he goes. Has a best friend named Francesca who cooks some mean pasta and is cute. Only owns one article of clothing that is white(a t-shirt). Good sense of humor and speaks a little english. I joke with him alot. Has a horrible ringtone, however.
I am real satisfied with my group of guys. I'm upset Ivan is leaving but we will hopefully still kick it. Speaking to them in Italian all the time has been fun and good practice. I'm looking forward to throwing some good parties and eating some more delicous home cooked meals.
However, I have to work a little harder on trying to explain the rules of American Football in Italian.
That has just been a disaster.
Monday, September 24, 2007
Sunday, September 23, 2007
I Got The Call
Grocery shopping is no joke. Especially when you are by yourself in a foreign country. Sure there is a bundle of delicous food for the taking, but its just not the same. As I had already gone up and down every isle looking for the deli that would sell some chicken fingers (they just do not exist here) I stopped at the yogurt section.
As I am away from home, it is a little more difficult to eat healthy. I consume less vegetables not necessarily because I don't like them but rather because I don't know how to properly cook them. (I know what your saying, you just grab some asparagus and thrown them in the oven. But what about the flavor aspect?) I figured getting some yogurt could provide an easy breakfast that would be healthy and tasty. As I started to reach for the stracietella (a delicous flavor in Italy that is more or less like choclate chip ice cream) I began to feel my hip vibrate...
I got the phone out of the holster and saw that Marcello, my director was calling. Could this be it? Could he have found a new place for me to live? I felt like I was a B level actor who's agent was to bring him good news. As soon as I said 'hello?' I put down my shopping sack/crate, (what the hell do you call those things? Not the cart obviously, but the other one that has the straps like a purse and is more portable. Do they even have a name? Sheeesh!) and then I closed my eyes. Not necessarily because I was praying to the G-Man upstairs or anything but rather because it is dreadfully hard to talk on the phone and pay attention in the grocery store.
Right off the bat Marcello told me he had 'good news'. There were two beds available in two different apartments in the dorms I originally wanted to live in. He told me I should go check them out that same night and decide if I wanted to switch. Following the convo, I put all my food back (only eggs and tortillas at this point. I can be rather indecisve when it comes to food) and headed straight to the new dorms.
The porter was very nice and called the apartments and informed them, in italian, that 'an american student is here to see the apartment and maybe he will move in'. Oh come on bro. That just doesn't sound good. These guys probably don't want another suite mate. Especially an American one. Gosh, I was already minus 1 without even showing my face. Its ok though. Ill make it work.
After the porter told me to go to apartments 20 and 22, I was giddy. I was getting the words ready in my head to say without messing up. First impressions are KEY. And with roomates? From a different country?FUGGETABOUIT!
I knoced on the first door (apartment 22) and was greeted by a rather short guy with glasses and dirty blonde hair. I said 'Ciao' and introduced myself. I said I was from California, blah blah blah. He told me he was from Lecce, the same town in the south of Italy that I spent 3 weeks in before now. Fantastic. We now have a foundation to work from. As I recalled where I stayed and some of the landmarks, he began to smile and seemed proud. (Italians are EXTREMELY proud of where they are from. Wheter it be Rome, Milan, Lecce, or Bari. They love home)
This guys name was Ivan, pronounced E-vahn. He gave me a tour of the apartment and I was pumped. As you enter, there is a little lounge spot on the left with two couches and a TV to accompany it. On your right is the kitchen area with a fridge and stove and oven. As you walk straight there is a bedroom on your right with two beds in it as well as a bedroom on your left with two beds in it. Also, at the end of the hall lies a single which is across from the bathroom. I absolutely loved it.
As I began to converse with Ivan more, I noticed that his Italian was a litte different than I was used to. Then I remembered. Some people from the south have a different dialect and, to foreigners, are more challenging to understand. As he began speaking real fast and for longer amounts of time, I had to perfectly time my smiles and nods so I didn't look like an idiot. I had to pretend I understood him and did so by strategically timing my word-less reactions. As the conversation began to dwindle, I said 'thanks' to Ivan and went to check out the other apartment. But do I even need to? I was so sold on this one I almost didn't even go to 22.
But I did.
Once I stepped into apartment 22, I knew this spot was something. The TV was on and was showing a basketball game between the Italian national team and Slovenia. My eyes then darted upward to a massive stereo system that, upon first glance, could have put Best Buy's finest to shame. I was greeted by two young men: Antonio and Domenico. They, too, were from the South and after I told them which towns I had visited they grew excited. I dropped the California bomb and everything was cool. (for the record I be getting MAJOR points for this one. Oh California. Specially with the females. Wooo, gotta love it. Imagine saying I'm from Nebraska...)
I said 'grazie' and called my director and said I want to move. Lets do this. I went straight back to my dorm room and began packing. I threw everything into my suitcases and was thinking about what I was going to tell G-Sep. Do I say the room is too small? Do I tell him the truth? That I fear for my life when you uncessary blow your nose every morning?
Ehh, Ill figure it out later.
For now, I gotta pack.
As I am away from home, it is a little more difficult to eat healthy. I consume less vegetables not necessarily because I don't like them but rather because I don't know how to properly cook them. (I know what your saying, you just grab some asparagus and thrown them in the oven. But what about the flavor aspect?) I figured getting some yogurt could provide an easy breakfast that would be healthy and tasty. As I started to reach for the stracietella (a delicous flavor in Italy that is more or less like choclate chip ice cream) I began to feel my hip vibrate...
I got the phone out of the holster and saw that Marcello, my director was calling. Could this be it? Could he have found a new place for me to live? I felt like I was a B level actor who's agent was to bring him good news. As soon as I said 'hello?' I put down my shopping sack/crate, (what the hell do you call those things? Not the cart obviously, but the other one that has the straps like a purse and is more portable. Do they even have a name? Sheeesh!) and then I closed my eyes. Not necessarily because I was praying to the G-Man upstairs or anything but rather because it is dreadfully hard to talk on the phone and pay attention in the grocery store.
Right off the bat Marcello told me he had 'good news'. There were two beds available in two different apartments in the dorms I originally wanted to live in. He told me I should go check them out that same night and decide if I wanted to switch. Following the convo, I put all my food back (only eggs and tortillas at this point. I can be rather indecisve when it comes to food) and headed straight to the new dorms.
The porter was very nice and called the apartments and informed them, in italian, that 'an american student is here to see the apartment and maybe he will move in'. Oh come on bro. That just doesn't sound good. These guys probably don't want another suite mate. Especially an American one. Gosh, I was already minus 1 without even showing my face. Its ok though. Ill make it work.
After the porter told me to go to apartments 20 and 22, I was giddy. I was getting the words ready in my head to say without messing up. First impressions are KEY. And with roomates? From a different country?FUGGETABOUIT!
I knoced on the first door (apartment 22) and was greeted by a rather short guy with glasses and dirty blonde hair. I said 'Ciao' and introduced myself. I said I was from California, blah blah blah. He told me he was from Lecce, the same town in the south of Italy that I spent 3 weeks in before now. Fantastic. We now have a foundation to work from. As I recalled where I stayed and some of the landmarks, he began to smile and seemed proud. (Italians are EXTREMELY proud of where they are from. Wheter it be Rome, Milan, Lecce, or Bari. They love home)
This guys name was Ivan, pronounced E-vahn. He gave me a tour of the apartment and I was pumped. As you enter, there is a little lounge spot on the left with two couches and a TV to accompany it. On your right is the kitchen area with a fridge and stove and oven. As you walk straight there is a bedroom on your right with two beds in it as well as a bedroom on your left with two beds in it. Also, at the end of the hall lies a single which is across from the bathroom. I absolutely loved it.
As I began to converse with Ivan more, I noticed that his Italian was a litte different than I was used to. Then I remembered. Some people from the south have a different dialect and, to foreigners, are more challenging to understand. As he began speaking real fast and for longer amounts of time, I had to perfectly time my smiles and nods so I didn't look like an idiot. I had to pretend I understood him and did so by strategically timing my word-less reactions. As the conversation began to dwindle, I said 'thanks' to Ivan and went to check out the other apartment. But do I even need to? I was so sold on this one I almost didn't even go to 22.
But I did.
Once I stepped into apartment 22, I knew this spot was something. The TV was on and was showing a basketball game between the Italian national team and Slovenia. My eyes then darted upward to a massive stereo system that, upon first glance, could have put Best Buy's finest to shame. I was greeted by two young men: Antonio and Domenico. They, too, were from the South and after I told them which towns I had visited they grew excited. I dropped the California bomb and everything was cool. (for the record I be getting MAJOR points for this one. Oh California. Specially with the females. Wooo, gotta love it. Imagine saying I'm from Nebraska...)
I said 'grazie' and called my director and said I want to move. Lets do this. I went straight back to my dorm room and began packing. I threw everything into my suitcases and was thinking about what I was going to tell G-Sep. Do I say the room is too small? Do I tell him the truth? That I fear for my life when you uncessary blow your nose every morning?
Ehh, Ill figure it out later.
For now, I gotta pack.
Thursday, September 20, 2007
Get Me Out Of Here
When I was first given my room assignment, I did not know what to think. I was excited and nervous, just like everyone else. I did not know anything about the structure of the building, what my room would look like or wheter or not my roomate thought negatively of Americans. All I knew was that I was going to be sharing a room.
When everyone met with the porter, prior to being shown are rooms, you could feel the jitters in the air. I wasn't even really worried. I knew that either way, it was going to be an experience and I should just go into it feeling calm, cool, and collected. I was shown my room last and chose not to look into any of the others because I wanted it to be a total surprised. I did not want to see the setup or layout so I just stood in the hallway. When the porter unlocked my room I was overcome with...with...nothing.
I don't want to sound like a spoiled individual but my room sucked. It was narrow and small as opposed to spacious and wide. There were two beds, two desks, and two huge dressers. But, because of the room's size, they were all touching each other. My desk touched my bed. My roomates desk touched my dresser which touched his dresser. I could have layed down in the middle of my floor and been touching the dressers and my bed. Thats how little space there was. Oh, my bed also was perpendicular to his resulting in little to no comfort space. But, hey, I could deal with this. I mean, everyone else's was the same plus I wouldn't spend all my time in my room.
But wait.
As I said hello to my roomate, Giuseppe, we breifly talked about hometowns and interests. I happend to notice that he was wearing soccer cleats and immediately was excited.
(In Italian)A: 'I see you have soccer shoes. Do you play soccer?'
G: 'No'
At this point I wanted to ask why the hell he was wearing soccer shoes but I chose not to. But I sure was baffled. He was just casually walking around the dorm in soccer shoes for the rest of the day. No Biggie. I guess.
I thought he would be asking me all kinds of questions but he wasn't saying nothing. I asked if he played any sports. 'No'. If he watched any sports. 'No' Does he know anyone who plays or watches sports. 'No'. What he liked to do on the weekends. 'Not much'. At this point, I told him I would be back and went to scope out other peoples rooms.
The others' rooms were nothing like mine. They had the more square shape with beds that were parallel to each other and had ample space in between. I was growing very frustrated. I took several deep breaths in the hallway and then returned to my room to unpack. As I was unpacking in silence, I began to think if I could really do this for 3 months. I told myself I had to give it a chance before I reached a conclusion.
When I awoke the following morning, I initally thought I had slept through my alarm. I looked at my phone and saw that it was 37 minutes before the alarm was to go off. I sat up and noticed that G-Sep (Giuseppe, but that was the nickname I gave him behind his back. Its not mean. Its just a nickname) was awake. What took place shortly thereafter would continue to happen every single day, at the same time, even on the weekends.
His routine is as follows:
1. Wake up without an alarm clock. Dont know how he does it but he does
2. Walk over to our tiny ass fridge and remove 'fitness yogurt' and place it on his desk
3. Get a placemat from the dresser and place it on the desk. Then place the yougurt on the placemat and enjoy
4. Go to bathroom and put on pants and shirt
5. VIOLENTLY blow nose while in bathroom. VIOLENTLY. Ladies and Gentleman, this is serious. If I did not know any better, I would have thought he was either trying to hurt himself in some fashion or sacrifice a baby goat. I understand when you blow your nose when you have a cold or allergies and you get the goods outta there but G-Sep was dry. It sounded so forced and uncecessary.
6. Return to desk and begin studying.
Now the breakfast, blowing of the nose, and getting dresked took maybe 10 minutes. He would literally study all day only to break for an occasional run around town or to bust out his newly purchased workout bench to do some sit-ups. He told me he wanted to be a veteranrian but come on. He was studying all the time. Most of our daily interactions would consist soley of 'Ciao'. We didnt dislike each other by any means, we just didn't click.
After conversing with my ma, I decided that I would make a request to switch rooms. I spoke with my director, Marcello, and the wheels were put into motion. All I had to do now was wait and see if there was any availability...
When everyone met with the porter, prior to being shown are rooms, you could feel the jitters in the air. I wasn't even really worried. I knew that either way, it was going to be an experience and I should just go into it feeling calm, cool, and collected. I was shown my room last and chose not to look into any of the others because I wanted it to be a total surprised. I did not want to see the setup or layout so I just stood in the hallway. When the porter unlocked my room I was overcome with...with...nothing.
I don't want to sound like a spoiled individual but my room sucked. It was narrow and small as opposed to spacious and wide. There were two beds, two desks, and two huge dressers. But, because of the room's size, they were all touching each other. My desk touched my bed. My roomates desk touched my dresser which touched his dresser. I could have layed down in the middle of my floor and been touching the dressers and my bed. Thats how little space there was. Oh, my bed also was perpendicular to his resulting in little to no comfort space. But, hey, I could deal with this. I mean, everyone else's was the same plus I wouldn't spend all my time in my room.
But wait.
As I said hello to my roomate, Giuseppe, we breifly talked about hometowns and interests. I happend to notice that he was wearing soccer cleats and immediately was excited.
(In Italian)A: 'I see you have soccer shoes. Do you play soccer?'
G: 'No'
At this point I wanted to ask why the hell he was wearing soccer shoes but I chose not to. But I sure was baffled. He was just casually walking around the dorm in soccer shoes for the rest of the day. No Biggie. I guess.
I thought he would be asking me all kinds of questions but he wasn't saying nothing. I asked if he played any sports. 'No'. If he watched any sports. 'No' Does he know anyone who plays or watches sports. 'No'. What he liked to do on the weekends. 'Not much'. At this point, I told him I would be back and went to scope out other peoples rooms.
The others' rooms were nothing like mine. They had the more square shape with beds that were parallel to each other and had ample space in between. I was growing very frustrated. I took several deep breaths in the hallway and then returned to my room to unpack. As I was unpacking in silence, I began to think if I could really do this for 3 months. I told myself I had to give it a chance before I reached a conclusion.
When I awoke the following morning, I initally thought I had slept through my alarm. I looked at my phone and saw that it was 37 minutes before the alarm was to go off. I sat up and noticed that G-Sep (Giuseppe, but that was the nickname I gave him behind his back. Its not mean. Its just a nickname) was awake. What took place shortly thereafter would continue to happen every single day, at the same time, even on the weekends.
His routine is as follows:
1. Wake up without an alarm clock. Dont know how he does it but he does
2. Walk over to our tiny ass fridge and remove 'fitness yogurt' and place it on his desk
3. Get a placemat from the dresser and place it on the desk. Then place the yougurt on the placemat and enjoy
4. Go to bathroom and put on pants and shirt
5. VIOLENTLY blow nose while in bathroom. VIOLENTLY. Ladies and Gentleman, this is serious. If I did not know any better, I would have thought he was either trying to hurt himself in some fashion or sacrifice a baby goat. I understand when you blow your nose when you have a cold or allergies and you get the goods outta there but G-Sep was dry. It sounded so forced and uncecessary.
6. Return to desk and begin studying.
Now the breakfast, blowing of the nose, and getting dresked took maybe 10 minutes. He would literally study all day only to break for an occasional run around town or to bust out his newly purchased workout bench to do some sit-ups. He told me he wanted to be a veteranrian but come on. He was studying all the time. Most of our daily interactions would consist soley of 'Ciao'. We didnt dislike each other by any means, we just didn't click.
After conversing with my ma, I decided that I would make a request to switch rooms. I spoke with my director, Marcello, and the wheels were put into motion. All I had to do now was wait and see if there was any availability...
Saturday, September 15, 2007
Rosh Hashanah in Italia? Better Believe It Baby
First off let me say Happy New Year or L'shanah Tovah. This past Wednesday I, along with 4 others from my program did the unthinkable: went to services here in Bologna, Italia. OK so it might not be totally crazy but you must admit that there is something to be said about celebrating a Jewish Holiday in Italia.
As you may or may not know already, I always try to look my best. This day was no different. It was the Jewish New Year and I am in Italia. It was a neccessity to come looking splendid. The Italians, both men and women, look absolutely dapper whether or going for stroll in town or out to dinner. I had to at least try.
I was told, by my Jewish counterparts, to meet in the main piazza at 7:10 to get to services for a 7:30 start. In typical Jewish services style, we showed up at 7:30 only to find out the services started at 7. No difference wheter you are in the States or in Europe, there is always going to be late people at services.
We initally had a bit of trouble getting in. We are, afterall, American students and nobody had their passports on their person (what up ma! what up Deadwood). And, when a bundle of Jews congregate in one area for a given amount of time there is always a need for extra precaution (just so many haters out there, shheesh). We ended up getting in after about 10 minutes and upon entering the synagouge, I was hit with something I have never experienced before: an orthodox setup.
I informed the girls with whom I was with that they would need to head upstairs where the rest of the women were seated and I, along with my director Marcello (his wife is Jewish), took seats on the bottom floor. Although the entrance was off to the side everyone still turned when I entered. (Even though this is a natural occurnce when I enter a room because my charm and good looks are just positevly glowing, I was still a little taken back). Maybe it was the fact that they knew I was American. Maybe it was because I was wearing a checkered red shirt with a skinny tie instead of the standard white or blue. Who knows?
As Marcello and I took seats (we would have sat together anyway but you gotta imagine that the 6'3'' American student with two earrings had to pair up with the Italian who, to the best of my knowledge, had never set foot in a synagouge and eats prosciutto on the daily had to stick together), I began looking around the room. I was real eager to see what services would be like in Italia and was not dissapointed to find out that they are indeed different.
It was very nice to see several Italian Jews. Granted, nobody had 'Goldstein' or 'Cohen' written across the forhead. As the rabbai began, or should I say continued, (remember I strolled in late), I began to notice and hear lots of chatter. Intially, I thought it was those around me saying the prayers aloud or signing. But no. It was just the men yukkin it up. And I mean YUKKIN.
I have learned over my stay in Italia so far that Italians like to talk. Often. This evening was no different. Nobody had any reservations about talking during the ceremony. Sure, you turn to whisper to your parents, siblings, or friends every now and then (Oh my goodness, did her nose get bigger or is it just me??) but it seemed that these men were having running conversations about anything and everything. I was constantly looking around to see if anybody was giving those talking dirty looks or the look that means 'shhhh' without saying it. You know what I mean. But no. There was nothing. The Rabbai never broke stride and the men never stopped. But that wasn't even the half ot it.
After about 10 minutes of not understanding anything (it was all in Italian. Half the time I don't know what is going on in services back home so you know I barely stood a chance here), I heard what sounded like two children biting each other and screaming. It turns out that everyone's child came with them to the services and each child just had two espresso's. And the place or room where they were suppose to remain ended up being the hallway immeaditely outside the door to where the services were taking place.
There were at least 10 kids who would scream, play, kick, run, scream, yell, or scream throughout the whole service. They would even come running into the service, find their father or uncle or whomever, talk to them, not in a whisper, and then run back. I honestely did not believe what was going on. Howevr, nobody seemed to mind. As I said, the men were talking, the Rabbai was preaching (can a Rabbai preach? Is that kosher to say? You can't say Rabbaing), and the kids were running.
Then you had the family that showed up maybe 15 minutes before the service ended. You had the father who was angry at the rest of the family for making him late when, in actuality, it was he who held everyone back. You had the mom who had to pretend she had everything together but you could see that, internally, she was reaching her breaking point. Then you had the younger of the two children, the daughter, looking cute and shy and sticking close to her mom. And you had the son, slightly older then the daughter, forced to dress up for the service but comprised and only wore a polo shirt and jeans to go along with the look that he is constantly smelling dog sh*t. Good to see that Jewish family still exists over seas.
As you may or may not know already, I always try to look my best. This day was no different. It was the Jewish New Year and I am in Italia. It was a neccessity to come looking splendid. The Italians, both men and women, look absolutely dapper whether or going for stroll in town or out to dinner. I had to at least try.
I was told, by my Jewish counterparts, to meet in the main piazza at 7:10 to get to services for a 7:30 start. In typical Jewish services style, we showed up at 7:30 only to find out the services started at 7. No difference wheter you are in the States or in Europe, there is always going to be late people at services.
We initally had a bit of trouble getting in. We are, afterall, American students and nobody had their passports on their person (what up ma! what up Deadwood). And, when a bundle of Jews congregate in one area for a given amount of time there is always a need for extra precaution (just so many haters out there, shheesh). We ended up getting in after about 10 minutes and upon entering the synagouge, I was hit with something I have never experienced before: an orthodox setup.
I informed the girls with whom I was with that they would need to head upstairs where the rest of the women were seated and I, along with my director Marcello (his wife is Jewish), took seats on the bottom floor. Although the entrance was off to the side everyone still turned when I entered. (Even though this is a natural occurnce when I enter a room because my charm and good looks are just positevly glowing, I was still a little taken back). Maybe it was the fact that they knew I was American. Maybe it was because I was wearing a checkered red shirt with a skinny tie instead of the standard white or blue. Who knows?
As Marcello and I took seats (we would have sat together anyway but you gotta imagine that the 6'3'' American student with two earrings had to pair up with the Italian who, to the best of my knowledge, had never set foot in a synagouge and eats prosciutto on the daily had to stick together), I began looking around the room. I was real eager to see what services would be like in Italia and was not dissapointed to find out that they are indeed different.
It was very nice to see several Italian Jews. Granted, nobody had 'Goldstein' or 'Cohen' written across the forhead. As the rabbai began, or should I say continued, (remember I strolled in late), I began to notice and hear lots of chatter. Intially, I thought it was those around me saying the prayers aloud or signing. But no. It was just the men yukkin it up. And I mean YUKKIN.
I have learned over my stay in Italia so far that Italians like to talk. Often. This evening was no different. Nobody had any reservations about talking during the ceremony. Sure, you turn to whisper to your parents, siblings, or friends every now and then (Oh my goodness, did her nose get bigger or is it just me??) but it seemed that these men were having running conversations about anything and everything. I was constantly looking around to see if anybody was giving those talking dirty looks or the look that means 'shhhh' without saying it. You know what I mean. But no. There was nothing. The Rabbai never broke stride and the men never stopped. But that wasn't even the half ot it.
After about 10 minutes of not understanding anything (it was all in Italian. Half the time I don't know what is going on in services back home so you know I barely stood a chance here), I heard what sounded like two children biting each other and screaming. It turns out that everyone's child came with them to the services and each child just had two espresso's. And the place or room where they were suppose to remain ended up being the hallway immeaditely outside the door to where the services were taking place.
There were at least 10 kids who would scream, play, kick, run, scream, yell, or scream throughout the whole service. They would even come running into the service, find their father or uncle or whomever, talk to them, not in a whisper, and then run back. I honestely did not believe what was going on. Howevr, nobody seemed to mind. As I said, the men were talking, the Rabbai was preaching (can a Rabbai preach? Is that kosher to say? You can't say Rabbaing), and the kids were running.
Then you had the family that showed up maybe 15 minutes before the service ended. You had the father who was angry at the rest of the family for making him late when, in actuality, it was he who held everyone back. You had the mom who had to pretend she had everything together but you could see that, internally, she was reaching her breaking point. Then you had the younger of the two children, the daughter, looking cute and shy and sticking close to her mom. And you had the son, slightly older then the daughter, forced to dress up for the service but comprised and only wore a polo shirt and jeans to go along with the look that he is constantly smelling dog sh*t. Good to see that Jewish family still exists over seas.
Marcello and I must have chuckled at least 5 times throughout the service over its bizarness. It was a free for all. I felt like I was in an Italian Chucke Cheese just with no video games and better looking people. It was a trip.
I will be venturing back to the synagouge this Friday for Yom Kippur and am contemplating bringing a swiss army knife, a bottle of water, and a compus.
Just in case
Saturday, September 8, 2007
From the Beautiful to the Bizzare- Siena & Pisa
As I was departing from Roma, I was looking forward to a more quiet less touristy experience and I was granted my wish when I went to Siena.
Siena is a rather small town located North of Roma in Tuscany. There were a good amount of people there but nothing in comparison to Roma.
When Jake and I got on our train to Siena we looked at our ticket and saw that our stop was called 'Chiusi'. We assumed that Chiusi was the name of the train station and that either way we would be in or close to Siena. Boy, were we wrong.
As we got off at Chiusi we began to walk around and scope out the place. We didn't realize that we were in the wrong city until it was too late. As we walked around the entire city (it took 13 minutes) at 11 at night we looked at our ticket one more again. We had to get off at Chiusi and then wait ten minutes for a second train to take us to Siena. Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh
At this point, all the trains had left for the night and we were forced to sleep in the train station. Well, I take that back. It was our plan from the get go to sleep in the train stations as part of a save money/good experience/why the hell not type thing.
So, we slept in the train station. (more like taking 17 minute naps while constantly waking yourself up over paranoia of someone robbing you or just because you cannot sleep sitting straight up on metal chairs) We then caught the 4:31 A.M. train to Siena and everything was cool.
Siena, as I said, was nice. I walked around a bit and even got to take a nap in the Botanical Gardens of the University of Siena. I used my backpack as a pillow, had Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows on the Ipod (HP on the Ipod is top 14 greatest things in the world) and was straight kickin it.
Being able to see parts of Tuscany and the lushes green hills and amazing views was very peaceful. I highly recommend going to Siena and Tuscany in general.
As Siena wasn't large, we only spent the day there. We took the train to Pisa (direct train, do not pass go, do not collect...) and got there at dusk.
We headed straight for the leaning tower. I didn't quite know how tilted it was but HOT DAMN! THAT SH*T BE LEAAAAANNNING!
As I was staring at it I kept seeing it lean further and further. I swear the longer I looked at it the more likely it was going to fall over. As I mentioned before, Jake and I made no plans for a hostel (there was no availability anyway) we kind of fell asleep in the main complex of Cathedrals right next to the Pisa.
Now, let me explain something. It was not our intention to go to sleep there. We just happened to fall asleep. We never agreed that this was our 'home' or 'beds' for the night. In actuality, Jake and I said nothing to each other before dozing off.
We were, however, interrupted. As I was comfortably laying on a marble stair (huge upgrade from sitting on a metal chair the previous night) I was awoke by the sound of a whistle. I immediately shot up and was greeted by 3 Italian police officers.
I was shook. I thought they were going to search and interrogate us. Fortunately, they just informed us that the area was closed (as it was 1 A.M.) and we would have to move. Oh okay, cool. As I rushed to pack away my Ipod and fasten my backpack I noticed that Jake, my boy with whom I was traveling with, was in no hurry at all. I mean wow. This guy had no sense of urgency in him. Maybe he did and I just couldn't tell. Either way it was a sight to see. Here we are: two American students sleeping in the complex of the leaning tower of Pisa we three Italian police offers standing over us with their hands on their hips. It honestly to Jake 3 1/2 minutes to fasten his backpack. Nobody spoke. Not me. Not Jake. Not the officers. After a minute or so I began to laugh and had to turn my back to the officers as to not offend them. Jake was real tired and kind of out of it. He was focused on his straps and was not panicking at all. At one point, although I'm not sure, I think one of the officers thought it was funny and we made eye contact. All in all, great moment.
As we had to depart our luxury Pisa spot, we headed back to the train station and caught a Z there. The next day we went back to the tower and chilled out some more. Before we left Pisa, we did what we always do: had pizza. The pizza in Pisa was the best I have had so far in Italia. wasn't impressed with Roma's pizza (way to thin, not a lot of toppings) and have yet to venture to Naples, the birthplace of pizza.
After Pisa we left for Bologna with the intention of sleeping in the train station because we arrived a day before we were suppose to. However, your boy made a few calls and we were given housing for that night. I am now currently in Bologna which is an hour North of Florence. I will be studying here for the next 4 months and I am liking what I see so far.
Every part of Italia has been amazing and different in its own way. I look forward to traveling some more as well as having more adventures.
Siena is a rather small town located North of Roma in Tuscany. There were a good amount of people there but nothing in comparison to Roma.
When Jake and I got on our train to Siena we looked at our ticket and saw that our stop was called 'Chiusi'. We assumed that Chiusi was the name of the train station and that either way we would be in or close to Siena. Boy, were we wrong.
As we got off at Chiusi we began to walk around and scope out the place. We didn't realize that we were in the wrong city until it was too late. As we walked around the entire city (it took 13 minutes) at 11 at night we looked at our ticket one more again. We had to get off at Chiusi and then wait ten minutes for a second train to take us to Siena. Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh
At this point, all the trains had left for the night and we were forced to sleep in the train station. Well, I take that back. It was our plan from the get go to sleep in the train stations as part of a save money/good experience/why the hell not type thing.
So, we slept in the train station. (more like taking 17 minute naps while constantly waking yourself up over paranoia of someone robbing you or just because you cannot sleep sitting straight up on metal chairs) We then caught the 4:31 A.M. train to Siena and everything was cool.
Siena, as I said, was nice. I walked around a bit and even got to take a nap in the Botanical Gardens of the University of Siena. I used my backpack as a pillow, had Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows on the Ipod (HP on the Ipod is top 14 greatest things in the world) and was straight kickin it.
Being able to see parts of Tuscany and the lushes green hills and amazing views was very peaceful. I highly recommend going to Siena and Tuscany in general.
As Siena wasn't large, we only spent the day there. We took the train to Pisa (direct train, do not pass go, do not collect...) and got there at dusk.
We headed straight for the leaning tower. I didn't quite know how tilted it was but HOT DAMN! THAT SH*T BE LEAAAAANNNING!
As I was staring at it I kept seeing it lean further and further. I swear the longer I looked at it the more likely it was going to fall over. As I mentioned before, Jake and I made no plans for a hostel (there was no availability anyway) we kind of fell asleep in the main complex of Cathedrals right next to the Pisa.
Now, let me explain something. It was not our intention to go to sleep there. We just happened to fall asleep. We never agreed that this was our 'home' or 'beds' for the night. In actuality, Jake and I said nothing to each other before dozing off.
We were, however, interrupted. As I was comfortably laying on a marble stair (huge upgrade from sitting on a metal chair the previous night) I was awoke by the sound of a whistle. I immediately shot up and was greeted by 3 Italian police officers.
I was shook. I thought they were going to search and interrogate us. Fortunately, they just informed us that the area was closed (as it was 1 A.M.) and we would have to move. Oh okay, cool. As I rushed to pack away my Ipod and fasten my backpack I noticed that Jake, my boy with whom I was traveling with, was in no hurry at all. I mean wow. This guy had no sense of urgency in him. Maybe he did and I just couldn't tell. Either way it was a sight to see. Here we are: two American students sleeping in the complex of the leaning tower of Pisa we three Italian police offers standing over us with their hands on their hips. It honestly to Jake 3 1/2 minutes to fasten his backpack. Nobody spoke. Not me. Not Jake. Not the officers. After a minute or so I began to laugh and had to turn my back to the officers as to not offend them. Jake was real tired and kind of out of it. He was focused on his straps and was not panicking at all. At one point, although I'm not sure, I think one of the officers thought it was funny and we made eye contact. All in all, great moment.
As we had to depart our luxury Pisa spot, we headed back to the train station and caught a Z there. The next day we went back to the tower and chilled out some more. Before we left Pisa, we did what we always do: had pizza. The pizza in Pisa was the best I have had so far in Italia. wasn't impressed with Roma's pizza (way to thin, not a lot of toppings) and have yet to venture to Naples, the birthplace of pizza.
After Pisa we left for Bologna with the intention of sleeping in the train station because we arrived a day before we were suppose to. However, your boy made a few calls and we were given housing for that night. I am now currently in Bologna which is an hour North of Florence. I will be studying here for the next 4 months and I am liking what I see so far.
Every part of Italia has been amazing and different in its own way. I look forward to traveling some more as well as having more adventures.
Thursday, September 6, 2007
Roma-Simply the Best
Aside from my hostel experience, Roma was fantastic.
I wanted to see and do as much as possible and I think I came about as close as one could. I arrived in Roma late Thursday night and was planning to depart on Sunday evening. This gave me 2 full days to do everything.
On the first full day, Friday, I walked a whole lot. I saw the Trevi Fountain, Coliseum, Arch of Constantine, Spanish Steps, Forum, Pantheon, several cathedrals, and numerous other sites I cannot recall right now.
Seeing all of these in person was just crazy. Especially since I studied most in Art History class in High School. (What up Ms. Metz) To sit down and just stare at these works was unreal. It was amazing to see them on half visible, slanted, sort of fuzzy slides but this, this was something else.
Each site had its attraction. For example, the Trevi Fountain was so unique because of the sculptures and how they were connected with the water. The flow of water added a certain beauty to the overall work which made it very nice.
The Coliseum was just cool. I mean to think about what took place inside just screams power and aggresion. The structure is obviously not what it used to be but nevertheless, still great. Its like when you first went to your favorite ballpark or coolest stadium and you kept saying 'this place is amazing. How did the do this?' But with the Coliseum, its 12x more impressive.
The Arch of Constantine is very interesting because some of the scultpures and works on the Arch were apparently stolen from other rulers, such as Hadrian, at the time it was constructed. Every part of the arch has something going on and I walked around numerous times to absorb it all.
I forgot the Pantheon was in Roma and it was my darkhorse of the trip in the sense that I never thought it would have been that cool and impressive but I was wrong. The upper half of the building is a perfect half of a circle. I mean perfect. Seriously. It is nuts to just stare up and see how well made it is and contemplate how they did it.
The Spanish Steps were pretty but they were, afterall, just steps. It seemed like a cool place to hangout with friends. I'm not too sure what makes them Spanish but if you know, tell me. The street that was at the bottom of the steps was nice and had lots of different stores and eateries.
The cathedrals we went to were very impressive in that the artowork inside was incredible. Sure I expected some depictions fo Mr. JC but I'm talking about some serious frescoes and even the ceilings decked out. I never thought any cathedrals would have so much detail but was happy to see that they do.
The next day, Saturday, I went to the Vatican Museum and saw some of the most impressive works in my life. This was up there with the first time I had bacon as well as the one off the hook party in high school or college where EVERTHING went your way.
I only waited in line for an hour even though at first it seemed as if it would take 3 to 4. There were charming and handsome Austrailian men who were going up and down the line telling people the wait would be 4 hours but you go with them now and get right in. The catch was that it would cost you an additional 25 Euro. Huge rip off. Just bring an Ipod or start yukking it up with the person in front or behind you in line. It does get hot standing in line so bring a hat, some water, and something for the back of your neck.
Once inside the museum there is numerous works ranging from maps of old Italia to battles in the 11th century. Although everything was delightful, my two favorite were the room of Raphael and The Sistine Chapel.
I did not know that The School of Athens, likely Raphael's most famous work, was in the Vatican Museum and was utterly taken back when I saw it. It is truly hard to describe and believe that work of art can do this to someone but when you see it in person, it just blows you away. (What up to my boy Will H.- he wasn't an Art History fan but even a knuckle-cracking, word-slanging econ major can appreciate true beauty)
I am not sure I have words for the Sistine Chapel and will not do it an injustice by going on and on about it. To think that one man was able to do this, is just out of this world. Every section, every individual work has a detailed story behind it. You can see the time and effort and energy that was exerted in each person and it is truly amazing. I will say that I was very discuoraged by the amount of photographs people were taking. It clearly states, prior to entering as well as once inside that no pictures are allowed. There is even 6 men who patrol the area making sure people do not take photos. However, few people obeyed. Everywhere you turned there were people flashing away and after being confronted would give that nod and say 'ok' only to begin snapping again.
All the flashing and taking of pictures does damage to the work. There is part of the chapel that has not been restored at all and it is jet black. You are able to see what restoration has done and without it we would only visit the Chapel to be in the presence of such work. I cannot believe that people were so selfish and do not, or chose not to understand that if everyone continues to disobey and take pictures, the Sistine Chapel will only be visible in books and the internet.
I also feel that pictures could not even do the Chapel justice. Its one of those things that even when you show others you are going to say 'but you gotta go see it in person. you just have to'
I also went to Saint Peter's Square but did not enter the Vatican itself. I was able to see the Vatican from the outside and was content with doing so.
My last and final day consisted of going to A.S. Roma's first home soccer game of the year. GO CRAZY.
The squad has a plyer by the name of Francesco Totti who is basically the equivalent of Michael Jordan. Everyone knows him and everyone loves him. I had the luxury of sitting rather close to the visiting team's (A.C. Sienna) fan section. The Sienna section was blocked off to Roma fans but I could still see them and hear them clearly. Every single time Sienna fans began to cheer the Roma fans would start booing or whistling as to drown them out. After every goal Roma scored there would be a heard of people who would run to the fence that seperated them and start swearing and making obscene, yet comical gestures. You had mothers and fathers who were with their children 7 or 10 year olds swearing and motioning to their um, how do you say, southern hemishpere's without apprehension. Nobody cared about anything at the game and it was sweet. They were there to root for the team. Anything else was fair game.
That concluded my Roma trip. I was off to Sienna and Pisa for two days to have a more quiet, less touristy vacation.
I have only one word to describe what I saw in Roma: Wow.
I wanted to see and do as much as possible and I think I came about as close as one could. I arrived in Roma late Thursday night and was planning to depart on Sunday evening. This gave me 2 full days to do everything.
On the first full day, Friday, I walked a whole lot. I saw the Trevi Fountain, Coliseum, Arch of Constantine, Spanish Steps, Forum, Pantheon, several cathedrals, and numerous other sites I cannot recall right now.
Seeing all of these in person was just crazy. Especially since I studied most in Art History class in High School. (What up Ms. Metz) To sit down and just stare at these works was unreal. It was amazing to see them on half visible, slanted, sort of fuzzy slides but this, this was something else.
Each site had its attraction. For example, the Trevi Fountain was so unique because of the sculptures and how they were connected with the water. The flow of water added a certain beauty to the overall work which made it very nice.
The Coliseum was just cool. I mean to think about what took place inside just screams power and aggresion. The structure is obviously not what it used to be but nevertheless, still great. Its like when you first went to your favorite ballpark or coolest stadium and you kept saying 'this place is amazing. How did the do this?' But with the Coliseum, its 12x more impressive.
The Arch of Constantine is very interesting because some of the scultpures and works on the Arch were apparently stolen from other rulers, such as Hadrian, at the time it was constructed. Every part of the arch has something going on and I walked around numerous times to absorb it all.
I forgot the Pantheon was in Roma and it was my darkhorse of the trip in the sense that I never thought it would have been that cool and impressive but I was wrong. The upper half of the building is a perfect half of a circle. I mean perfect. Seriously. It is nuts to just stare up and see how well made it is and contemplate how they did it.
The Spanish Steps were pretty but they were, afterall, just steps. It seemed like a cool place to hangout with friends. I'm not too sure what makes them Spanish but if you know, tell me. The street that was at the bottom of the steps was nice and had lots of different stores and eateries.
The cathedrals we went to were very impressive in that the artowork inside was incredible. Sure I expected some depictions fo Mr. JC but I'm talking about some serious frescoes and even the ceilings decked out. I never thought any cathedrals would have so much detail but was happy to see that they do.
The next day, Saturday, I went to the Vatican Museum and saw some of the most impressive works in my life. This was up there with the first time I had bacon as well as the one off the hook party in high school or college where EVERTHING went your way.
I only waited in line for an hour even though at first it seemed as if it would take 3 to 4. There were charming and handsome Austrailian men who were going up and down the line telling people the wait would be 4 hours but you go with them now and get right in. The catch was that it would cost you an additional 25 Euro. Huge rip off. Just bring an Ipod or start yukking it up with the person in front or behind you in line. It does get hot standing in line so bring a hat, some water, and something for the back of your neck.
Once inside the museum there is numerous works ranging from maps of old Italia to battles in the 11th century. Although everything was delightful, my two favorite were the room of Raphael and The Sistine Chapel.
I did not know that The School of Athens, likely Raphael's most famous work, was in the Vatican Museum and was utterly taken back when I saw it. It is truly hard to describe and believe that work of art can do this to someone but when you see it in person, it just blows you away. (What up to my boy Will H.- he wasn't an Art History fan but even a knuckle-cracking, word-slanging econ major can appreciate true beauty)
I am not sure I have words for the Sistine Chapel and will not do it an injustice by going on and on about it. To think that one man was able to do this, is just out of this world. Every section, every individual work has a detailed story behind it. You can see the time and effort and energy that was exerted in each person and it is truly amazing. I will say that I was very discuoraged by the amount of photographs people were taking. It clearly states, prior to entering as well as once inside that no pictures are allowed. There is even 6 men who patrol the area making sure people do not take photos. However, few people obeyed. Everywhere you turned there were people flashing away and after being confronted would give that nod and say 'ok' only to begin snapping again.
All the flashing and taking of pictures does damage to the work. There is part of the chapel that has not been restored at all and it is jet black. You are able to see what restoration has done and without it we would only visit the Chapel to be in the presence of such work. I cannot believe that people were so selfish and do not, or chose not to understand that if everyone continues to disobey and take pictures, the Sistine Chapel will only be visible in books and the internet.
I also feel that pictures could not even do the Chapel justice. Its one of those things that even when you show others you are going to say 'but you gotta go see it in person. you just have to'
I also went to Saint Peter's Square but did not enter the Vatican itself. I was able to see the Vatican from the outside and was content with doing so.
My last and final day consisted of going to A.S. Roma's first home soccer game of the year. GO CRAZY.
The squad has a plyer by the name of Francesco Totti who is basically the equivalent of Michael Jordan. Everyone knows him and everyone loves him. I had the luxury of sitting rather close to the visiting team's (A.C. Sienna) fan section. The Sienna section was blocked off to Roma fans but I could still see them and hear them clearly. Every single time Sienna fans began to cheer the Roma fans would start booing or whistling as to drown them out. After every goal Roma scored there would be a heard of people who would run to the fence that seperated them and start swearing and making obscene, yet comical gestures. You had mothers and fathers who were with their children 7 or 10 year olds swearing and motioning to their um, how do you say, southern hemishpere's without apprehension. Nobody cared about anything at the game and it was sweet. They were there to root for the team. Anything else was fair game.
That concluded my Roma trip. I was off to Sienna and Pisa for two days to have a more quiet, less touristy vacation.
I have only one word to describe what I saw in Roma: Wow.
Rome wasn't built in one day, but my hostel sure was
Yes indeed. I'm back with the internet and it feels fine. I won't beat around the bush so let's do this.
Over the last 6 days I traveled from Roma to Sienna to Pisa. I will get to all the details shortly but for now, you need to know what I dealt with.
Going into Roma, we had hostel reservations. We booked it two days before arrival and we were very lucky. Most of the hostels had no availability and if they did, they were quite expensive. This one was 17.50 Euro per night and was listed as a 51% approval rating from previous guests. We had no other choice but to book it. However, I would have prefered to sleep in the train station.
Upon arrival, we were asked to pay for the whole sum. The information/check in desk was located on the first floor. So we paid the man and proceeded to walk up 5 flights of stairs to our room. Why walk you might ask. Sure we were tired from taking a 5 hour train ride (which, mind you, was delayed by two and a half hours) but there was no other option. The elevator was broken and even if it wasn't, I still wouldn't have taken it. It no joke looked like the first elevator ever made.
It was out in the open in the sense that when you began going up or down you could see everything around you. It was like an elevator that is used to transport mining materials. Plus, it was beginign to rust and was covered in cobwebs.
When we found our room we were greeted by 4 Irishmen. Well, 3 women and 1 man. All were of the college age. We all went out for pizza and 5 minutes into the conversation I learned that 3 out of 4 were currently sick. Oh gosh. I was going to be sharing a grimey room with the sick people with nowhere to go and no circulating air? Get me out of here.
I noticed that there was only one power outlet and it was literally hanging by a cord. It was 95% out of the wall and was problem a hazzard to anyone who even looked at it.
When we all decided to go to sleep I knew I was entering a world of problems. First off, the sickest of the Irish girls was coughing and sneezing so much she might as well contracted that virus that Outbreak monkey had. I mean shit. Then, ontop of that, the room was no cooler than 91 degrees. No lie.
It was so hot in my room I got off my mattress and put my sleep sack on the floor to sleep. Of course I was not able to sleep because of a) this sick Irish woman, b) the heat and c) because the floor was so uncomfortable. I weighed my options of being uncomfortbale and slightly cooler or being slightly more comfortbale and hot. I chose the former.
And, on top of all that, the toilet at the end of the hall was apparently put on 'shuffle' or 'repeat' mode and was flushing on its own every 30 seconds. I do not know wheter this was done on purpose or not but either way it was horrible. I could hear it very clearly from my spot on the floor as we had kept the door open to try to catch a breeze.
When I awoke the next morning (after getting maybe 2 hours total of sleep) I wanted to leave immediately. Everything began to make me feel dirty. I tried to take a shower without touching anything. I used my pinky and thumb to turn the nozzles and tried to get as little water on my toothbrush while brushing my teeth. I know you feel me on this. Its like when there is no hot water but you have to take a shower. You just dance around as quickly and efficiently as possible and try to justify your current lack of hygine. Don't get it twisted, I bathed and brushed, but I did it with a grimace on my face and as much caution as possible.
I have two bits of advice for you and it is as follows:
-do not stay in the hostel called castel del monte. Take the approval rating into consideration. Plan ahead. Do not believe the pictures on their websites are accurate. Photographers can be like magicians. Just like the one girl who takes amazing pictures but you see here in person and its 'DAMNNNNNN!'
-Avoid sick Irish people
Over the last 6 days I traveled from Roma to Sienna to Pisa. I will get to all the details shortly but for now, you need to know what I dealt with.
Going into Roma, we had hostel reservations. We booked it two days before arrival and we were very lucky. Most of the hostels had no availability and if they did, they were quite expensive. This one was 17.50 Euro per night and was listed as a 51% approval rating from previous guests. We had no other choice but to book it. However, I would have prefered to sleep in the train station.
Upon arrival, we were asked to pay for the whole sum. The information/check in desk was located on the first floor. So we paid the man and proceeded to walk up 5 flights of stairs to our room. Why walk you might ask. Sure we were tired from taking a 5 hour train ride (which, mind you, was delayed by two and a half hours) but there was no other option. The elevator was broken and even if it wasn't, I still wouldn't have taken it. It no joke looked like the first elevator ever made.
It was out in the open in the sense that when you began going up or down you could see everything around you. It was like an elevator that is used to transport mining materials. Plus, it was beginign to rust and was covered in cobwebs.
When we found our room we were greeted by 4 Irishmen. Well, 3 women and 1 man. All were of the college age. We all went out for pizza and 5 minutes into the conversation I learned that 3 out of 4 were currently sick. Oh gosh. I was going to be sharing a grimey room with the sick people with nowhere to go and no circulating air? Get me out of here.
I noticed that there was only one power outlet and it was literally hanging by a cord. It was 95% out of the wall and was problem a hazzard to anyone who even looked at it.
When we all decided to go to sleep I knew I was entering a world of problems. First off, the sickest of the Irish girls was coughing and sneezing so much she might as well contracted that virus that Outbreak monkey had. I mean shit. Then, ontop of that, the room was no cooler than 91 degrees. No lie.
It was so hot in my room I got off my mattress and put my sleep sack on the floor to sleep. Of course I was not able to sleep because of a) this sick Irish woman, b) the heat and c) because the floor was so uncomfortable. I weighed my options of being uncomfortbale and slightly cooler or being slightly more comfortbale and hot. I chose the former.
And, on top of all that, the toilet at the end of the hall was apparently put on 'shuffle' or 'repeat' mode and was flushing on its own every 30 seconds. I do not know wheter this was done on purpose or not but either way it was horrible. I could hear it very clearly from my spot on the floor as we had kept the door open to try to catch a breeze.
When I awoke the next morning (after getting maybe 2 hours total of sleep) I wanted to leave immediately. Everything began to make me feel dirty. I tried to take a shower without touching anything. I used my pinky and thumb to turn the nozzles and tried to get as little water on my toothbrush while brushing my teeth. I know you feel me on this. Its like when there is no hot water but you have to take a shower. You just dance around as quickly and efficiently as possible and try to justify your current lack of hygine. Don't get it twisted, I bathed and brushed, but I did it with a grimace on my face and as much caution as possible.
I have two bits of advice for you and it is as follows:
-do not stay in the hostel called castel del monte. Take the approval rating into consideration. Plan ahead. Do not believe the pictures on their websites are accurate. Photographers can be like magicians. Just like the one girl who takes amazing pictures but you see here in person and its 'DAMNNNNNN!'
-Avoid sick Irish people
Identify Yourself
Please, when writing a comment to me, state who you are. Most of the comments I recieve say 'anonymous' so I have no idea who you be. I love reading the comments and if I know who is writing them, I can write back to you.
I believe if you have a gmail account it shows up when you write one.
I believe if you have a gmail account it shows up when you write one.
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