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.

The Begining

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.

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.

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...

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.

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

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.

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.

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

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.

Windin' Down

Only two more days for me down here in the South of Italy. I have my final exam tomorrow and then on Thursday, me and my boy Jake are departing for Roma.

I'll be a little sad to leave because this has been like vacation. Class consisted of playing taboo in Italian to talking about pizza and movies. The rest of the time, as I have mentioned before, varied from beaches to hiking, to gelato and napping.

I am real excited to be going to Roma and have numerous things I want to do. My teacher here is from there and she compiled a list of great things to do. I really want to try and get to a soccer game but it is the first home game of the season for A.S. Roma so we shall see about that. Of course I'll be checking out The Vatican, Sistine Chapel, Trevi Fountain, The Coliseum to name a few.

I have been itching for a hamburger or some other typical American food. Some bacon, pancakes, etc. Italians put little to no emphasis on breakfast. The typical food of the South is light: pasta with clams, salad, and vegetables. All this has been tasty, don't get me wrong, but hot damn, your boy has been itching for some good ol fashion red meat. However, I been eating pizza alot and will continue to do so.

I have bought my train ticket to get to Roma but as far as a hostel or sleeping accomodations, still working on it. Yes, I am indeed cutting it close but what are ya gonna do? Its not like I haven't been trying. Space is limited in Roma in August and I only have internet access for 2 hours a day.

The second fan in my bedroom broke last night so I am worried about napping and sleeping for these final two days. Fortuanetly, everyone here is sweating all the time so I don't have to be too concerned when I emerge for group dinners or activities with my face glistening like a Thanksgiving turkey.

Ahhh, turkey. Damn, I would love some dark meat right now, mashed potatoes, and gravy...

Excuse me, lunch time.

Friday the 17th

Last Friday, we all went to the beach. This beach was a little different than normal in that there was water, but no sand. It was basically a whole bunch of cliffs with sharp and uneven rocks to go with it.

The water was just fantastic. Had that blue and green tint and I was even treated to my first European bathing suite performance by two Italian women laying on floaters.

Upon my second round of water time I encountered a little problem. As I reached to propel myself out of the water I placed my hand on what I thought was another rock. How wrong I was. It turns out that it was an Italian sea urchin that has thorns/spikes comparable to that of a porcupine.

Oh, the pain

I emerged from the water with about 20 pieces of stingers in my ring and pinky fingers. I have, however, since recovered thanks to Sarah and her expert skills with tweezers and a sewing needle.


It gets better.

When it was time to get back on the bus the group split into two; the first going to get espressos and the second to spend more time in the water,

My group made a worng turn and we ended up way the hell in the wrong direction. It took us an additional 30 minutes to get to our bus and lets just say, nobody was thrilled.

There's more.

As we were 30 minutes late to get the bus, we were 30 minutes late coming back. I wanted to go to the supermarket and buy some um beverages for a little party that night. My boy Luca was leaving the next day and so were those girls from Serbia. But, of course, we got back at 8 instead of 730 and I couldn't buy anything for anyone. (Supermarket closes at 8 here)

Hold on.

Fortunately, the Serbian girls decided to get some snacks and such for everyone and we all kicked it outside. I learned some curse words in Serbian and put that King family charm on them.

As I was sitting there, two grils from my group came back from dinner and drinks early. One went inside, the other came over to talk to me. She informed me that the other girl just had an allergic reaction and the Epipen was needed. The girl who had the reaction had some choclate gelato and the container was either too close too pistacchio or the same spoon was used. Either way---no good.

The girl is all good now but a scary moment indeed.

As the outdoor party (no music, just sitting at a table shootin the shit) died down, I knew my oppourtunity was here to make a move. They began to throw away the plastic cups and gather themselves for bed and I asked:

"so what are yall gonna do now?"
"Pack" They responded
"Um. Uhh- Ok. Ciao"

I froze. Plain and simple. I was overwhelmed. Outmatched. I was dealing with foreigners here. I was out of my element. I wasn't used to this.

I tell you what though. You give me a second round with those damsels from Serbia or any other ladies from the former Soviet Union and just like Michael Jordan in the closing seconds of a game, its a guaranteed victory.

A Fine Dining Experience

Last night, for the first (and likely last) time of the trip, everyone in the program was taken out to dinner by the directors. This date had been marked on my calendar for quite some time because I knew it was going to be nice. And boy, was I right.

Everyone got dressed up to go out (we still paled in comparison to the Italians) and everyone was excited.

There was a long walkway to enter the restaraunt with paintings on either side and two giant scultpures of lions to greet those dining. Given the summer time and the heat, all of the tables were outside and the setting could not have been more lovely.

The entertainment for the evening was middle aged man who was dressed head to toe in white. I especially took notice to his Panama style hat that was white witht the exception of a black ribbon. Each server was wearing a bow tie and the lighting on the tables and the nearby tress was well executed.

There was a pre-determined menu so everything was going to be a surprise. If you are not too familiar with the Italian lifestyle there are many courses and it is always tasty.

For the anitpasti we had six dishes total: prosciutto, prosciutto with vegetables, cuscos, zucchini with muscles, fried tofu & cheese, and beats. I had every single type on my plate and I ate every single one.

Next, we had risotto with lemon al dente. I am usually not that big of a fan of the al dente but I did think this was tasty. Again, I ate it all.

For the secondi, we had pasta with muscles and shirmp. This was delicous. Everything was extremely fresh and cooked perfectly. And yes, I ate it all.

My apologies, I forgot to mention that we had the option of red, white, or rosse wine. And as much of it as we wanted. (Although this was ideal, I must admit that girl seated to my immediate left could have benefited from a fixed amount. However, we were able to get a video of her singing along to a Christina Agueilara song using a bottle of Pellegrino as a microphone)

Onto dessert. We began dessert with a tasty little lemon sorbet. This was followed by three little sweets. They were as follows: croissants with choclate inside, a muffin with rasberry filling, and shortbread cookies with choclate.

Lots of pictures were taken as well as requests for more wine. From the food to the music to the layout of the restaraunt itself, the ambiance was amazing.

After dinner, I went out with my teaching assistant from Wesleyan as well as my current Italian teacher here in Lecce. We shared what is called a "Maxi Mojito" and talked about everything from The Simpsons to Italian men and women to the best pizza in Italy.

All in all, I'd say it was an enjoyable night. What do you think?

I'm Baaaaaaaaaaack!

YYYYYYYYYEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

What's happening. Your boy is officially in Italy and it is superb. It took a while for me to get adjusted with the time change and all the distance traveled but i'm good to go.

My days here have been sweet to say the least. Everyone in the program is real cool and as of now, there is only one other guy.And 15 girls. There is also some fly girls studying at our school from Serbia and Madrid so you know I'm testing out my Spanish and Russian.


I can't put it all in text but a typical day for me is as follows:

8:45 Wake up
9-10:30 Class
10:45-12:15 Class
12:30-1:30 Lunch
1:30-2 Nap and hang out
2-6:30 Beach
7-8 Hang out
8-9:30 Dinner
10-2 Rum & Coke

Now, this lifestyle won't exactly continue when I go to Bologna. This 3 week program is real casual and we only take one class. I imagine I will still get down with the get down when I'm in Bologna but there will be less trips to the beach and more classes. But for now I'll just stay charming the socks off those around me.

The hikes and beaches I have gone on have been great. The water is very clear and has that blue and green tint. This girl in my program brought googles and I have been having a field day with them.

We have gone to some small towns and I have been taking lots of pictures. It is real hot down here so I have been going through under shirts and boxer briefs like that one member of your family goes through plates at Hometown Buffet.

Two nights ago I went into town for some wine tasting. For 10 Euro (about $12-$13) You got a wine glass and you got to walk around and try whatever kind of wine you wanted. There was red and white at every table and about 25 tables. Need I say more?

I must say that last night might have been one of, if not the best night so far. It was karoke night. I initally wasn't excited for it but once I got outside and saw the setup, I was ready to rock. I knew what song I wanted and sure enough, they had it.

Michael Jackson-Bille Jean.

Better believe it. Could you think of a better song for me to do? I mean honestly. I was absolutely going nuts with it and I must say I put on quite a show. I have some pictures so expect to see them sometime.

I have been eating some great food so far. Croissants with nutella in the middle, great pizza, lovely wine. And its only going to get better.

I must depart for now and try to figure out how I can get out paying the 50 Euro I owe for the weekend trips.

Oh, by the way, eat your heart out

Hear Ye! Hear Ye!

It's been a while since your boy was on the keyboard but now he's back in action. Firstly, my apologies to my avid readers. So, sorry to my lovely motha and my boy Twill Burger. All that aside, let's get down to business...

I wouldn't say this thought just occurred to me but I will say that I have had to think about it a little more as of late.

Have you ever met somebody and upon first glance, you are hooked? You just know you are going to feel this person. Yeah, they look real good, got that cute little smile, and that just "oh boy!". If you have the privilege of meeting this person, you go through your standard Q&A.

Where ya from?
Where do/did you go to school?
Hobbies, Interests, Siblings, Pets, etc. etc.

Now this is all fine and gravy but in my opinion, one key element is missing: RELATIONSHIP STATUS

I don't know if you have been in this position before but it is a serious blow when you find out weeks later that your crush is currently occupied. All this time you had no idea. You have been conducting business under the impression there was a 'Inquire Within' sign; not a 'Sorry, Closed' one. You have put in some serious flirting and chivalry only to find out that some other person is where you want to be.

Now, it isn't that bad if the flirting and chivalrous ways come natural. Hopefully, if you played your cards right, you haven't done anything to drastic, obvious, or over the top that would result in some long term damage. But, it is tough when you have been under the impression that your potential honey is free only to have your heart (temporarily) broken.

As a result, I put this declaration onto you, my dear reader:

Spectacular Decree Number 1

From this point forth, both males and females of the dating age (consult your State Laws and/or parents for precision) shall state their current relationship status within the first 7 minutes of conversation with a person(s) they have just met.

This way, people know right off the bat what the deal is. They can alter their approach or change tactics if need be.

Now, you just don't want to throw it out there: "Hi, I'm Roxanne, I have a boyfriend and I love Thai Food" Woah woah woah, slow your role their Rox! Ease it into the convo. If sports comes up and your significant other plays/played, drop it then. If the person you just met is from the East Coast and your partner went to school out that way, there you go.

Now, for some, knowing you are in a relationship won't stop them at all. Hell, it might even make them pursue you harder. However, it is a good thing to establish so others don't have to deal with the pain that comes with learning it a little ways down the road. Knowing this might not make you like your crush less but it will take care of the feeling when your hopes, after being built up on numerous occasions , come crashing down.

I am NOT speaking from experience. Trust me.

Indirect Entertainment

If there was anyway to get straight from the office to my house, someone please let me know. Even if something is in the works, hasn't passed FDA, FCC, Homeland Security, or whatever the hell, I am willing to try it. Until that day, I am forced to join the masses and ride BART.

Fortunately, there are always a cast of characters or at least some noteworthy folk around me. Today was particularly sweet; there were three people that really caught my eye.

First, in the morning, I noticed a woman decided to take a seat on the floor. Sure it is carpeted, sure all the seats were taken, but who really sits down on the train? I soon found out she did this because she had to put on her makeup. Holy sh*t...

I didn't want to stare but I felt like I was in the presence of a master. This woman was pulling out things from her purse that finally made me understand what females carry around in there. No lie, this woman looked like she was getting ready to create a watercolor painting. The way she was setting everything up in front of her and all her colors made me feel like I was back in 3rd grade art class

Not only was I baffled by the human mural that was on display, but I was really thrown for a loop when she brought out the tools for her eye lashes. At this point things were getting dangerous. I felt at any given moment this BART train would rattle too much and this woman would end up poking herself in the eye with an apparatus that surely would be banned on most commercial flights. Women, I just don't know how you do it.

Fast forward to the BART ride home and I am easily recounting one of the top 5 moments of the summer.

As my eyes are half open and my body weirdly tired from sitting down at my desk all day, I look up to scan the train. Almost at the opposite end from where I am standing I see something that I will never forget: a teenager absolutely going crazy listening to his Ipod.

This kid was just losing his mind. He looked like he was auditioning for one of the actual Ipod commercials when there are black figures going ape shit while listening to their Ipods and having loud colors in the background.From where I was standing it looked like he was going into cardiac arrest. I almost yelled for a doctor when I first saw him but, luckily for everyone, I refrained. Although I was highly entertained by watching this guy, the gentleman next to him might have stolen the show.

As this young man was going bananas, the guy next to him DID NOT MOVE A MUSCLE. I mean seriously. This guy only moved his eyeballs left and right. Even when the train came to an abrupt halt this guy was stapled to the ground. It seemed like this guy didn't want to ask Mr. Ipod to calm down or turn down the music nor did he want to relocate.

It looked like I was watching Jurassic Park all over again. Remember when the brother and sister are in the jeep after the power went out? The T-Rex comes by and they try to not make a sound...They are just statues with their eyes being the only thing that moves.

JUST like that.

Bloody brilliant.

The Bare Necessities

Working a 9 to 5 is no joke. I have been able to do very little after coming home because of how tired I am. Even if I am not that tired, knowing that I have to wake up at a certain time the next day really hurts the team.

I have been meaning to write an entry on what I consider The Bare Necessities. I have always had what I call "emergency items" in my backpack or gym bag but its a whole new ball game at the office. Some items are brand new, some are not. Either way, this is what all guys need to have handy. There are 5 things a working gentleman should forever keep in mind. Lets take it from the top, shall we?

1. Deodorant- This might be the most important thing on the list and that's why it is numero uno. Always carry a spare deodorant with you. Everyone sweats. It can get real bad when an exam is coming up, or you got problems with your spouse, or you just stank that day. I would personally go for the stick kind but if you are a spray on guy, go for it. Plus, if you get asked out by a girl or your buddies to go out for a drink or dinner, and don't have time to change, it can come in real handy.

2. Medicine- Now, this section might be a little different for me than it is for you. Okay, so I have asthma. Okay, I have allergies. Okay, I get migraines. Other than that I'm just your average Joe. But seriously, you don't want to be coughing and sneezing at the workplace and receive all those nasty looks from others. Ya know that look. The look like "I can't believe this fool is sick. I just KNOW he is going to get me sick. For peete's sake, get a goddamn tissue!" I mean asthma and allergies are usually associated with nerds right? You don't want to seem like you don't have you sh*t together and be sneezing and coughing all over the copy machine.You think James Dean was allergic to dust or had to walk around with an inhaler in his pocket? Gotta have some ibuprofen or Advil handy, too. Headaches are real common nowadays. Plus, if your cute co-worker ever is sneezing or has a headache, you can come to the rescue. BOOYAH!

3. Breath Goods- Essential. Keep a pack of gum, tic tacs, or altoids on you or at your work station. Personally, I go for the altoids. I keep them in my messenger bag and that way they are always with me. Whether I'm at my computer, on BART or wherever. I think if you are chewing gum you come up as a little rude or immature. You don't want to be smacking away as your boss or a P.Y.T. comes up to you. Let's be honest, tic tacs only sound good. They don't really last and they epitomize 8th graders who think they are too cool for school. (Glory days by the way). If you want to get really Spectacular with it, keep a travel size toothbrush and toothpaste with you. That trumps the other 3 by far. And your co-workers will be impressed when they see you coming out of the bathroom with it. "That guy means business."

4. Money- We are very credit card oriented these days and that is fine. Minimizes the wallet bulk (unless you are a rookie), puts the joke on the person who preforms the mugging and not the other way around, and just makes things easier when you just throw the plastic down and don't have to sit there counting the Washington's one by one. However, I will say that a true gentleman should have at least $50 handy. Sure, you can always "stop at the bank en route" but it looks better just pick up and go. You can go get drinks after work and don't have to worry about putting the tab on multiple cards. It'll be enough to cover yourself and likely enough to treat someone else to a few cosmo's as well.

5. The Backups- Of course it is ideal to have a whole outfit that you can keep at the office. If you have showers and lockers at your workplace-perfect But, for most of us, that is not the case. So, it comes down to 2 main things: an extra dress shirt and an extra pair of socks. If someone invites you out after work or you are going to meet up with your crush from college or high school, you want to be looking a little fresh. (Both in the street sense and the new, ripe sense) You don't want to roc the shirt you sweated through all day. And who knows, you might have spilled some cappuccino or red bull on it. As far as the socks, those guys are going to be stanky and a little damp. It always feels good to put on new, clean socks and this time it won't be any different. You don't want any stench to be seeping up from under the table or anything. If you can, a fresh pair of underwear and an undershirt would be great, too. But, don't get too greedy.

There you have it, ladies and gentleman. What one, especially a man, needs at the workplace. It may sound like a lot but it really isn't. Most of the the above can be stored at your work station and take up little to no room. I also suggest you carry a messenger bag or briefcase. Leave the backpack to the high schoolers. Show that you are now a professional and have graduated from the ol' b-packs. Plus, how can you be looking suave and charming with a backpack on? I mean honestly.

Take my advice. Follow the Spectacular 5 Step Plan. It'll change everything.

Trust me

I'm Bringing Chest Hair Back

(The following article centers around chest hair ONLY. I will not discuss things south of the border but I will say that both males and females should take care of themselves and leave the Amazon to South America)

Now that summer is officially here, and our Independence Day is right around the corner, it is time to address an issue that has been associated with men for quite some time now: the hairy chest.

According to Darwin and evolution, we use to be a lot hairier than we are today. And that goes for females as well. So one can say that we have lost a lot of hair over the years and are a far cry from our original selves. On the other hand, if you think Darwin didn't know what the hell he was talking about, we are significantly hairier than our first go around with Adam & Eve. Of course I was not present at the Garden of Eden, but I can confidently say that based on textual information and drawings, their bodies were completely hairless with the exception of head hair.

But forget the past, let's focus on the present. In today's world, especially in the States, smooth and hairless is in. This is on display mostly in the advertising and marketing field. While shopping for boxer briefs just the other day I noticed that not only did all the male models have little to no chest hair, but there legs appeared to be bare as well. When male celebrities appear on covers of magazines shirtless, such as the no talent ass clown Matthew McConaughey or Justin Timberlake, they, too, have little to no chest hair. Are they naturally like this or do they shave/wax it? I don't know that answer but I do know this: chest hair is great, and I'm bringing it back.

Before I continue, and before all the women out there scrunch their faces and say "Eww", I am a proud owner of chest hair. I am no grizzly bear by any standards but I do enjoy the Norwegian carpet located on my front side. I'll even admit that I have shaved my chest twice in my life. I had to do it. I was in the 10th grade and I knew I was the only one of my friends who had chest hair. I was fine with it myself, but I thought the girls might not like it and by comparison, I would be not as desired.

Now, I am a 20 year old male and I have been known to go swimming or play some football without a shirt on in my day. Over the past few years I have had no problem doing so. My peers had finally caught up to me in the puberty game (been going strong myself since 4th grade...just kidding...2nd grade) and now I wasn't the only chap at the pool party who wasn't looking like a 5 year old named Timmy. Onto the biggest point of the summer: pool etiquette.

OK, make sure every time, even if you are chubby, you don't go into the pool with a t-shirt on. Other dudes will think you are a jackass and girls will know you aren't confident, and the females hate a man with a lack of confidence. Plus, you'll just look like that fat kid you went to camp with back in the day who actually somehow appeared fatter when he got outta the pool wearing his over sized white T. The same chest hair related problems don't exist in college compared to those in high school. In college everyone is trans gender, gay, a member of the Green Party, a vegan, gay, depressed, or all of the above that it doesn't even matter if you got a hairy chest. But in high school, your image is everything.

Here is the secret when attending a pool party or going swimming with your peers around you: make sure there is at least one other hairy guy that is going to be removing his shirt, too. That way, you won't be the only real man around and there is the possibility he is hairier than you and the girls will notice that.
"Jeez, look at Ari's chest hair. He looks like wolverine from X-Men" said Stacy
"But good lord! Look at Roger's chest hair. His chest looks like Albus Dumbledore's beard!" said Stacy's friend Amber

Also, try to avoid laying down or sitting next to several friends who are less hairy than you. If you must do so, place yourself in the middle as opposed to the beginning or the end. That way, the shock is brought down to a lesser extent. If a girl sees you at the beginning of a row, it might be too much to handle right off the bat. If she sees you at the end, here eyes will be used to seeing the hairless and this will be too much for her at the end.

I think that hair in high school or at a young age is seen as a negative because how it is portrayed in ads and because hair is associated with a lack of hygiene. As we get older, it becomes the true sign of manhood. I mean look at some of history's greatest hairy chested men. I'll give two fantastic examples: Austin Powers and James Bond. I mean my goodness, do you get any better than that? These two cover all categories. Comedy, action, smooth talkers, clever, great dressers, smart, and both are ladies men.

However, I will say that one should avoid the V-neck undershirts. Nobody really wants to see the chest hair popping out of the shirt. Its okay to be shirtless at the pool or in the park on a hot day but nobody wants to see all that walking down the street; clean it up. Go for a regular crew neck undershirt.

Maybe I feel this way because I consider myself a guy from the old school. Sure I was born in the 80's and I'm not into all this new technology and fashion. Give me a zoot suit, a type writer, some James Brown, and a VCR and I'll show you a party.

Ladies, do you really want to be married to man who doesn't have any chest hair when you are older. Sure, it is possible he never could grow any but that is unlikely. You don't want to tell people he is 47 years old and shaving his chest do you? How would that look if you are trying to gather your three kids for school and when you ask your husband to help you he says: "Just a minute honey, these spots around my nipples are tricky!"

There are all these devices and surgeries for hair removal but you need to realize that we are a people and culture that is ever changing. We live for fads. One day its in, the next, its out. I'm not telling you what to do but am here merely to give suggestions and provide a different point of view. Hey, Europeans are generally hairy, and they are at least 5 times better off than we are.

Get on this chest hair bandwagon NOW while you still can. Who knows, with gas prices these days and myself being in high demand, I might not have time in the future to pull over and let you hop on.