Florence-Steak & David

Riding the trains to and from every city in Italy is a treat. Just sitting back and looking out the window is great. It is the prefered way of travel for sure. Don't have to pay attention, get gas, or use your blinker. Its great. That said, there is always some characters on the train. Going from Bologna to Florence, I had the pleasure of being next to two unique ones.


The train from Bologna to Florence is only an hour. Ma and I wer just sitting back relaxing when an asian woman behind us began talking. She was speaking to a German or Russian woman who wasn't seated across from her but two sets of seats ahead of her. How they met, I don't know. All I know is that at one point, their conversation was terribly hilarious.


The Asian lady worked for Shell and the other woman lived in San Diego. When the Asian lady was asked if she had ever been to the U.S. she responded:


AL 'No. But I have a friend who works in...um...Misery'

G/RL 'Where?'

AL 'Mis-ery. Miss Erry'

G/RL 'Ummm...Not New York'

AL 'No, no. Misery'



At this point my ma and I were looking at each other wondering wheter or not this was serious. Barely anyone else on the train is speaking and here you have two women practically yelling across seats trying to figure out where some other woman works. I began laughing. I looked around to see if anyone else thought this funny but either they did not or they couldn't understand. Finally the Asian lady pronounced a little differently...



AL 'Miss Or E'

G/RL 'Ohh, Missouri?'

AL 'YES!'

Then the Asian lady said to 'look her up' when, and if, the other woman goes to Asia. I really don't understand when people say this. Is there some giant, 50 foot, address book in most airports or something? Have I not been told where the secret white pages is with everyone's number in the world? Give me a break. Stop with the 'look me up' phrase and just write down your phone number and email address on a nearby napkin.

We got in late on Thursday night so we just ate and went to our hotel. The next morning we went to the museum that houses Michelangelo's David. The line was only 15 minutes long. I didn't know which room David was in but when my ma told me to 'look up' as I turned a corner, I was blown away.



It stands at the end of a hallway under a glass roof. Even from a distance it is huge. As I walked toward it, it became more and more impressive. Standing beneath it was truly special. Seeing the veins in his hands and neck, as well as the size of his hands, is mind-boggling. Everything, the eyes, the toenails, the hair is just crazy. Highly recommend to see it if you are in Florence. Actually, its a must. One of the unexpected highlights of the David was seeing those who were there to draw it. Some were very impressive while others were not. There was one woman who's shoulder I got to look over and her drawing of the David was horrible. I honestly think a blind mule with no limbs could have done better



The rest of the day was filled with glances at the New York Times article entitled '36 Hrs in Florence' and doding toursit groups. This part of travling really gets me angry. Every other stree there is another group lead by a woman holding a one foot sign in the air so the group can see her. It reminds me of the Halloween parades I went to in lower school but with a lot less enthusiasm and more grumpy, old people. (Although, for the record, you would catch an occasional grandparent looking sour that they were there to see their grandkid be Batman or a fairy for the 4th year in a row)



We went to the open air markets, ponte vecchio, several piazza's, some museums, and the Duomo. Everything was enjoyable and all the restaraunts we went to were all very good. I had home made pasta with sausage and mushrooms one night while my mom had spaghetti with clams. (Of course pizza was thrown in there somewhere also). The lunch we had right before we left was absolutely great.

We went to a place that is only open for the afternoon and I got roast beef and ma got her veal chops. (She had been absolutely fiending for these the whole trip). Got some crisp french fries with it. Oh man. One thing on the menu that caught my attention in addition to the roast beef, was the steak. Florence is known for its steaks and their size and when I saw the server bring it out, I was shocked.

These steaks are GIGANTIC. Again, like most things in Italy, you have to see it with your own eyes. To better help some of you with the size, its like the size of Max Menke (for you Head Royce folk) or Gabe Gonzalez-Kriesberg's head (Wesleyan folk). It is utterly ridiculous. Next time I'll go, I'll have to get it.

Following a great stay in Florence, it was off to Venice to conclude my 10 day, 3 city trip of Italy with ma.

Lake Como

Although I will be writing about my 4 day, 3 night trip to Lake Como, I will not even begin to do it justice. Like most, if not all of Italy, one must come here and see & experience everything for themselves.

Firstly, my ma arrived last Wednesday and we have been rollin together ever since. After 2 nights in Bologna (So ma, over here on the left is where my class is, this is where I get pizza...), we took the train up North to Como.

When we first arrived at the train station, although sad to admit it, I got a slight feeling of being at Lake Tahoe. I would soon find out that Lake Como makes Lake Tahoe look like The Oakland Raiders and their fans:bad. We took an hour long bus ride to our Bed & Breakfast with the road being right along the water. Fortunately for my ma, she snagged the window seat. Nevertheless, my face was still glued to the glass the whole ride.

After checking in, ma and I decided to relax a bit. I opened our window to get some fresh air and was treated to a fantastic view. We laid down for about an hour and then took a ferry to the island of Bellagio. (Yes, that is where the hotel in Vegas took its name). Two minutes after exiting the ferry, we walked past a group of girls. One of them yelled out: 'Ooo, San Francisco'. Taking one look at my ma (she neither heard nor noticed anything) all I could respond with was a weak 'Yeah'. Maybe that was moment to swoop in and strike up a convo about SF and what the city, along with myself has to offer. However, I never broke stride. In retrospect, I was glad I didn't. Being there with ma and without anything to think about was truly enjoyable. We walked throughout the town and, after recieving direction assistance from a man in an eyeglasses store, settled on a restaraunt. We split pizza, pasta carbonara, and grilled vegetables. We took the ferry home and knew this was going to be a cool 4 days.

Via Balbianello

Before even coming to Lake Como, both my ma and I knew we would have to see where they filmed Star Wars. For those of you unfamiliar, in Episode II: Attack Of The Clones, the final scene where Natalie Portman and Hayden Christensen get married is at this villa on Lake Como. There are also other scenes throughout the movie from here (Later found out that Casino Royale was also filmed here) As we missed the ferry to take us there, ma and I decided to walk it out. We got to see a lot of the town and test our arm flexibility as our hands were constantly reaching for the water bottles in my North Face backpack.

Upon arrival at the villa, I knew this was going to be amazing. The small house is perfectly placed on a hill so that every room has a unique and slighlty different view than the next. The trees and hedges on the grounds are exceptionally well kept. Every few steps we were both snapping pictures. I, with my 7 lb digital camera with unrechargable batteries ( I know, I know) and my mom with her one time use disposable from Rite Aid. As a family, we like to keep things old school.

The colors on the villa itself, along with the statues on the grounds, made this day great. To just stand or sit and look at the water, mountains, boats, and houses, was something extremely unique. I kept telling myself that people actually lived here and how unbelivable it must have been. As ma and I left, I thought the day couldn't have gotten any better. But oh, how I was mistaken.

The Bed & Breakfast we were staying out had a restaraunt downstairs. There is only a price fixed menu every night and, upon first reading the menu posted outside, I was not feelin it. As my ma made me look at it some more, I got a sensation that this was the place to eat that night.

When we walked in, we were greeted by the chef who is a rather large man with a white beard and white hair. Tiziano is his name. Ma and I decided to each get the first plate, second, and share dessert. For the first plate, we had cocoa pasta with Goose Ragù. For the second, we had stewed rabbit with chestnuts and small, whole onions. For dessert, choclate and hazlenut fudge. Everything that night as well as every night is made by Tiziano. He only had one other person who works with him (clears/sets tables, etc.) and does all the cooking himself. I cannot even begin to describe this meal. It was however, the single best meal I have ever had. To give you an example of how good it was, I requested a copy of the menu in English and Italian to hang up in my room and bring home.

The next few days were very relaxing and enjoyable. We walked around some more, took in views and relaxed. As I said before, I cannot do Lake Como justice by writing about it. The pictures will be up as soon as I come back from Florence and Venice.

All I can say is that Lake Como was too beautiful. And I'm going to have a house there.

What's That Smell?

My suitemate smells. BAD.

The only good thing about this whole situation is that he is not my roomate so I don't have to deal with this in my sleeping space. Nonetheless, it is still horrible.

When I first moved in, I did not notice any odor at all. Maybe I was too excited to smell it, maybe it wasn't too potent yet. Either way, it didn't hit me until about 3 days later. You expect to have some odors going through an apartment which is inhabited by 5 college guys. Usually, that odor is in the bathroom or near the dirty laundry pile.

But this. This stench. This smell. Its like a phantom that travels in every single room all day and night. It comes from one guy and one guy only. His shoes smell awful and he puts them in the hallway every night. Sure, some people just have bad smelling feet. But it goes beyond that.

My suitemates and I have had discussions about how to handle this. It seems they have become more accepting of it than I. When I asked my other suitemates what the deal was, I was informed he isn't into showers. He goes on numerous treks and dissapears for numerous days and returns without having taken a shower in addition to not taking one when he is back. I have seen him take 1 shower in my 5 weeks here. Therfore, whenever he raises his arms or if you are withing 9 feet of him, it stinks. But it goes beyond that.

The smell, wheter or not this guy is present in the room, is everywhere. It is not funny. I intially belived it comical until it was everywhere at all times. The shower, although occupied once by him, has his smell.

His current roomate, was forced to take desperate measures and bought all kinds of incense, candles, and rose peddals. Thats how bad it is. I bought orange scented candles for my room and am contemplating how to help the kitchen and living room areas.

At this point, I am convinced this guy needs medical attention. Not for being crazy or anything (although an evaluation wouldn't hurt) but rather to get some prescription medicine for this. Whethere it be internal or external, I don't care. All I know is Right and Left Guard would not be able to do the trick.

I have concluded that his odor is a mix between three things:
1. The worst smelling guy on a middle school basketball team following practice
2. Soccer shinguards after a game
3. Hiking boots after someone climbed Halfdome in Yosemite without socks



If you, are anyone you know has suggestions about how to help my situation, please contact me.

My First Number

Being in a program where they ratio of girls to guys ( 22:4) definetly has drawback. Don't get my wrong, I love the females but 22:4 is not as sweet as it seems.

For example, a few nights ago I was asked to go to this party with these 4 girls from my program. Apparently, they had met these three Italian dudes who had invited them to a party outside the city walls and the only way to get there is by car. When I was asked to go, I wasn't totally against it but the fact that it was so far away made me think that it would be that much more difficult to leave on my own time. ( I always have an escape route) Plus, 4 girls going by themselves, in a car, outside the city, with Italian dudes, doesn't equal the best scenario.

As I walked to meet up with everyone, I thought that maybe this would turn out alright. I might meet some new people, Italian girls perhaps, and everything could be alright. We met these guys on the corner of a nearby street. Upon first glance you could have thought these guys were pushing weight or ready to rob someone the amount of times they kept looking up and down the street for signs of the American girls. Going into the handshaking, I knew I was already minus 1 with these guys. They had invited girls to this party and here comes a guy. Its never cool when you were planning on seeing just honeys and they bring along a dude.

There was a total of 3 Italian dudes: the first was pretty skinny and about 6'6'' and in the military (so he says), the other two were twins who sort of resembled Joe Pesci in the early days. We hopped in their cars and were on our way.

I went in the car with the tall guy and sat in the back. I had one girl in the back with me and there was another riding shotgun. He was doing your classic one hand on the wheel, one hand on the radio while every 3 seconds looking over to the passenger seat. I tried to be friendly and asked my standard questions: 'Where you from? Ever been to America? Sports fan?' This guy only gave me one word answers. He was keen on shutting out the American guy and focusing on the American girl(s)

I already got the wack vibe before we even entered this party. When I first walked in there was some techno playing and 4 awkward people dancing. Your classic more guys than girls party with the drinks damn near all gone. I headed straight for the balcony and after 2 minutes, realized this was an International party. There was a group of students from Turkey to my left, Germans to my right, and the host was Japanese!

I thought it would be the right thing to do, so I introduced myself to guy who's place it was. I wasn't trying to pull one of the suspect high school moves where you just crash a party with your squad not knowing the person who's house it is. (GOSH, THOSE WERE THE DAYS!)

I walked over to the guy and started speaking Italian and introduced myself. From that point on, I had one of the most diffucult conversations I have ever had. This kid spoke Japanese fine. Italian, he had told me, he has only known for 5 months, and English he has known for 2 years. After getting nowhere speaking Italian we switched to English. He told me his English was much better but, to be honest, he was horrible with both.

After him nodding vigoursly after every one of my sentences, especially the California line, I was looking for a way out. This guy either could not think on his feet or loved silence. He didn't ask me anything or, if he tried, it would take him too long and I would interject. I had exhausted the Japanese food topic, the Italian women topic, and the classes we took topic, I noticed a basketball and decided to switch gears.

Ari 'Do you (I had to point at him when I said this) play basketball (had to dribble an imaginary ball)?'

Japanese Guy 'Uhhhh, sorry?

Ari 'Basketball. (I pointed to the ball)'

Japanese Guy ' Ohhhh, hahahaha (he laughs for bout 5 seconds). Yes yes yes. Sometimes. You want to play?'
(note to reader. it was 12:30 at night and there were no lights on the nearby court)

As I started to say no, he was overcome with one of the saddest puppy dog faces I've seen in about 5 to 10
Ari 'Maybe, maybe next time' ( It was more likely that I would become a famous horse jockey then come back to that house)

Japanese Guy 'Great. Here. Take my number!'

From there, he and I exchanged numbers. He seemed so happy to get a new number. His name was Tutsaya.

As I walked away with my contacts with one more entry, I couldn't help but think that this was ridiculous. Not only was the first number I got NOT from an Italian girl, it wasn't even from an Italian. Hell, I could maybe deal with a country that borders Italy.

But no, I meet Tutsaya from Japan.

RAVE

There is nothing like being in a university town. Espeically when that university has 100,000 students and drinking alcohol outside (in a park, on the streets) is legal. Combine that with an infatuaion of techno and you got yourself one hell of night.

I am by no means a raver. I don't like the music palyed at raves and would probably not like the people who attend. I am not a big drinker and have never done any drugs. (Come on, this bod is one of a kind. Got to take care of it).

There is an annual party that is held the last saturday of Setemper: Lo Street Rave Parade. I asked my boy Luigi why it was in English and why it wasn't just 'Street Rave' or 'The Prade' but he did not provide me with a good enough explication. I tried to tell him that having both the word 'Rave' and 'Parade' was unecessary. He wasn't having it.

When he extended the invite to accompany him and his friends to this Rave I immdediately said yes. I knew I probably wasn't going to like it but I want to take advantage of everything offered to me while I'm here. Plus, I knew I was going to see some wiiiiiiiiiiiild sh#t.

While we were waiting for the bus I knew we were in for quite a night. I was with around 7 other students and they were all on their way to drunkness. I had to pass on every beer, and bottle of wine that was offered to me for two reasons: 1. I honestly did not want any and 2. I thought it was best to not be 5th person to drink out of the same bottle.

We boarded the bus along with two other groups of students who were either drunk, or in the process of getting. We arrived at our destination and as I exited the bus I looked at the bus driver and although he didn't say it, I felt like he was praying for all of us. He knew where we were headed and he knew what goes down at these things. But hey, this guy doesn't get paid to give advice, (thats what your therapist is for. Or for others, to also prescribe a little sumtin sumtin) he is their to drive and he did his job damn well.

The walk to the rave itself was only 2 minutes but you could have been standing ontop of The Statue of Liberity and probably caught some tunes. Upon first glance of the scene, I precited the amount of time until my migraine was felt. I gave it 11 minutes.

Every 20 feet there were massive white vans with giant sound systems. Each one was blasting techno music and had hords of people dancing in front of them. Well, I don't know if you could call it dancing. In my opinion, it was more like every person's crotch was fire and they were trying to put it out with invisible water.

Every 10 feet there was a vendor selling beer. Man, they were raking in the dough on this one. Every 30 seconds a drunk and/or possibly drugged out italian would stumble up to the vendor and just point and hand them money. I say the odds the vendors hustled them was 1 out of every 4. Shoot, I would've.

As the rest of my group was getting absolutely HAMMERED (they were now passing around an espresso liquor) I began trying to remeber at what hour the buses stopped running. I wanted to plan my exit route now so I could encounter as few problems as possible when I actually decided to split. At this point, I had been there for 15 minutes and was going to give it another 15.

Luigi then saw someone he knew and she told us to come to where her friends were raving out (Yeah! Totatally!) so we relocated. I was up for it. Maybe a change of scenery would provide new entertainment. Nope.

As I began walking it seemed as if I was entering the smoking section. Everywhere I turned or looked someone was smoking a cigarette or something else. Me, being asthmatic and an anti-smoker in general, was dodging the smoke like I was in a boxing match. I must have looked ridiculous. I put my swetshirt over my nose and mouth and was bobbing and weaving like the heavyweight championship was on the line.

Once we reached our new destination, I knew I was about to head out. I took one last glance around to make sure I wasn't about to miss anything.

To my left: I saw two people, genders unknown, making out.
To my right: Guy wihtout a shirt on and eyes half open whom you probably could have told that he was currently on Mars and he would have believed you (assuming he is familar with the planet, of course)
Behind me: Giant tree with two guys laying down with their dogs who appeared to be having a misearble time (the dogs that is)
In Front of me: The greater part of the rave which consited of people who, independently could not stand up but, thanks to the compact dancing that occured, were erect.

'That'll do it' I said to myself.

I decided I had raved enough.

I took the #28 bus back home and called it a night.