Eastern Eurotrip

Buddhas in Budapest

We started our trip by flying into Bratislava, Slovakia. The city was a nice surprise. My friend Joey and I were exploring the city the evening we got there and talking about how we both love trying local foods but had no idea what type of food was Slovakian. Five minutes later we stumble upon a Slovakian Food Festival in a castle. What can I say, we’re lucky. It turns out Slovakian cuisine involves a lot of pickled things, beets, sausages, and beer.

My favorite part of Slovakia: The exchange rate.

watermelon sculptor in Slovakia

street performer in Bratislava

climbing trees in Slovakia

From Bratislava we went to Budapest, Hungary. Joey has a friend he worked with at a camp who is Hungarian, so we immediately met up with Zeno. He took us on tours around Budapest, we ate at a Hungarian buffet restaurant, and met some of his Hungarian coworkers and friends. Our friend Jen also joined us.

The second day in Hungary Zeno took us to his hometown, Egar, Hungary, to meet his family. We arrived at about 8pm, the sun had set and it was raining. When we entered the house, his parents were playing peppy Hungarian pop music, all the lights were off, and Zeno’s mom was jumping up and down chanting “Welcome America!” On the dining table there was an American flag and sparklers on either side. We all barely had time to process any of this when a tray full of glasses of champagne was being thrust at us. Then they gave Jen and I bottles of wine from the region as gifts and Joey a homemade bottle of plum liquor from the region. They most adorable hosts I have ever had, which says something.

Our welcome into Hungary

At dinner they went on and on about how much they love America and Americans. Their view of the United States was the most idealistic I have ever encountered. In my opinion, they are overlooking a few things but it is still so wonderful to hear from people that they love your country and feel welcome when they visit. Zeno’s Dad told us about how he remembers exactly where he was when he learned the twin towers were hit and how he cried. The only time I heard them even imply something negative about the states was when he explained that he could tell how 9/11 had affected Americans, because he’s felt less welcome while visiting since. Still, the entire conversation at dinner was basically them picking a different aspect of America then raving for about 10 minutes about how Americans do that things the best way that thing could be done. It was interesting.

After dinner, Zeno, Jen, Joey, and I went to a Hungarian bath, basically a giant outdoor, natural hot tub. As you could imagine, it was a really fun Hungarian experience. We got back at about 2:30am to find that Zeno’s mom had made us traditional Hungarian pancakes to have as a second dinner in the middle of the night. This was after the dinner we had had that night, a three-course meal with dessert. I have never eaten as much in 24 hours as I did in Hungary.

We woke up to find a full breakfast laid out for us by Zeno’s mom. At one point I had mentioned offhandedly that I like honey, so surrounding my plate were four different jars of honey.

Overall my view of Hungary is that it is a place where I met some of the most thoughtful people, ate the most food, and was offered the most alcohol.

Budapest

also, Budapest

This is what we did with out free time in Hungary,
imitated statues.

American dance party in Budapest

Joey and Zeno

From Budapest, we took a train to Vienna, Austria.  We only had a day in Vienna and my priorities were laid out. Vienna was the home of artist Gustav Klimt, who is one of my favorite artists. I learned from a Canadian man in our hostel that there were actually two Klimt museums in the city: one which houses his most famous work The Kiss and a few other famous pieces and another that houses everything else. This made the plan simple, we all (my friends, me, and Canadian man) would go to the museum with The Kiss together, then I would separate from the group and go to the other museum for the rest of the day.

The plan started out perfectly. The Kiss was the most beautiful piece of art I have ever seen in person as were the other pieces I saw by him such as Judith wit h the Head of Holofernes. I was so energized and excited to see the other museum. I hoped on a tram and quickly got across town and in front of the other museum only to discover a huge sign that read, “Closed on Tuesdays”. It was Tuesday, my only day in Vienna. I am still very upset about this.

This was an area with a lot of art museums, so I tried to be optimistic at this point and walked into the ticket center. All the other exhibits were moving exhibits and the man behind the counter had no recommendations so I chose one at random. The museum I ended up going to was a modern art museum full of “art” by some Eastern European artists. To make a long story short, the art became increasingly disturbing and I wound up leaving before seeing it all because I thought I was going to throw up. Everything about that experience disturbed me, the fact that these people displaying serial-killer tendencies somehow have an art exhibit and the fact that the people around me, who had I seen them on the street would have seemed like professional, normal people, were actually taking this “art” seriously.

My friends and I went out that night to a bar recommended by our hostel as a place that was guaranteed to always be full and fun, even on a Tuesday. This led us on a long search through the city past the unsavory, druggie, night-dwellers of the city and graffiti clad streets to an empty bar called “Flex” where we ordered from a rude bartender more interested in texting than making drinks.

Overall opinion of Vienna: Umm, it was a cultural experience?

Graffiti time, Vienna

Moments before seeing The Kiss

Vienna: Joey, Canadian friend, and Jen

From Vienna we took a train to Prague where we met up and stayed with some of Joey’s college friends. Prague had been described to me as “a Disney World for adults” and the place with “the largest amount of the most beautiful buildings all crammed into one small space”. This is a lot of hype to live up to, but Prague somehow did exactly that.

We spent our time in Prague seeing the sights, Old Town Square, the Dancing House, and the Lennon Wall, to name a few. The cuisine in Prague was delicious and varied. We had bagels (!!!), Thai food, more sausages, and fried cheese sandwiches. The nightlife was fun and the city was absolutely gorgeous.

My very favorite part of Prague, and actually the entire trip, was a rowboat on the Vltava River at sunset. In general the most beautiful views I have ever seen of cities have come from looking down on a city from the highest point, but this was the first time that I felt like I was seeing the most beautiful view from below, in the middle of a river.

My life becoming complete in Bohemia Bagel

Prague, The Lennon Wall 

The Dancing House, Prague

Happyland!

More beer and sausages! 

Rowboat in Prague

Hello!

Sorry for the long break in blog posts.  I went from Italy to a whirlwind trip to Eastern Europe, a busy week in Portugal and across to Madrid, and a sudden trip home to the states.  I spent a week at home in South Dakota and now I'm in Colorado for a week visiting friends.  It's hard to blog when I have so much to cover, but I'm going to do it by breaking up the events and posting three or four more separate posts.  I'll write one on Eastern Europe, one on Portugal, and one or two on returning home.

So, I have not been kidnapped in Europe!  And I'm not done blogging, yet.

the final week of Italy

"What is the feeling when you’re driving away from people, and they recede on the plain till you see their specks dispersing? It’s the too huge world vaulting us, and it’s good-bye. But we lean forward to the next crazy venture beneath the skies."

- Jack Kerouac

I haven't made any kind of countdown for leaving Italy. Countdowns are for things you don't like. I've somehow stopped myself from doing that horrible thing where you can't stop talking/thinking about how this is your "last" something. This is my last run in the fortezza. This is my last Sunday afternoon on the terrace. This is my last Monday morning cafe at Key Largo. I didn't even like writing those examples right there.


This is good and bad. It's good because, for the most part, I've stayed a little more sane because of it. But it's bad because I somehow lost track of time again and now it's Monday night and I leave Italy on Friday. On top of that, it's bad because I hit these moments where I think ok, what [paper/project] to do next .. and then I suddenly realize that I really have nothing left to do besides packing and the farewell dinner and saying goodbyes, and then I almost start hyperventilating.


It's hard to leave Siena. I want to stay forever but I know that I can't. And it's not even that I know I can't because of logical reasons (e.g. I'm a student. I have to finish college. I would live too far away from family).  It's that I know as beautiful and wonderful as Italy is, I could never live here permanently. Siena has been the most perfect town for these nine months of my life, but it wouldn't be perfect for forever. Italy will never fit perfectly with me. Gender equality here is about 20 years slower than the rest of the world and I would say even a little behind that for foreign women. And sometimes, I miss standing in a straight line. Sometimes I don't feel like having to push my way forward to the counter to buy something. And maybe it would be nice to have a public transportation system that doesn't strike every other week and still show up half an hour late on a good week.

But even knowing all of that, I don't want to leave. I feel like I'm breaking up with someone. I hate to fall too deep into this cliched analogy - but I'm going to anyway. I really feel exactly like I'm breaking up with someone who I realize I could never marry and I'm going have to leave eventually, but I still don't want to leave. I'm happy though, because I wouldn't be this sad if my experience here hadn't been so great. Italy has changed my life and inspired me, and I'm happy I came here. But I'm still going to be sad for a couple days.


It's weird watching everything wind down like this. Right now I'm just trying to stay optimistic and look forward to my next great adventures: a week in Budapest, a little over a month wwoofing in Portugal, then home.

my last day teaching English - 5th grade

BELLA SICILIA

For my 21st birthday I didn't go out to a bar.  I didn't pretend I was going to attempt to take 21 shots.  I didn't go to a liquor store and show my ID.  I went to Sicily to see Giorgio's home and life.

In January I was hanging out with Giorgio here in Siena when he asked where I had been and where I want to go.  Along with some other places I said I really wanted to see Sicily. "Anna, I'm Sicilian. I'm from Sicily. Come with me."   It is one of those perfect opportunities that doesn't always come up, a way to see into the areas of locals past the superficial level you're stuck at as a tourist. When you get those opportunities, you have to take them.

With him I got to walk into to so many Sicilian houses and apartments.  It all felt a little surreal.  He drove me around Sicily with an intention to hit all the major sites and beaches.  On every car ride we would suddenly pull over to the side of the street and he would say something along the lines of: "hey, let's go say hi to my grandparents/uncle/aunt/inset relative name here." and we would go inside.

His grandpa is an artist and paints Sicilian horse-drawn carts that are never used anymore except in festivals.  He is one of the only two people left alive who still have this skill.  His grandma is the tiniest old Italian woman.  She stared at me like she was terrified, and I can imagine that having a 5'10 blonde girl come walking into your living room might be a little startling.  She spoke to me only in Sicilian dialect.  Giorgio tried to convince her to speak in Italian so I could understand but she refused to break out of dialect.

The Italian dialect in Sicily is truly another language.  It isn't Italian spoken with a heavy accent, it is a different language completely.  Sicilians, and all Italians, learn the dialect of their region but they also learn the basic Italian, Italian that I have learned.  When Italians travel to other regions, they just speak regular Italian but any Italian could distinguish the region they are from based on their accent.  Around me, Giorgio and his friends and family would only speak in regular Italian so that I could understand.  But still, every now and then they would suspiciously say a few sentences in dialect.

When we went to his aunt and uncle's apartment I met two of his cousins too.  His cousins were about 3 and 13.  The 3 year old boy came into the living room at one point when we were sitting on the couches talking to his aunt and uncle. He demanded that we "chiuda gli occhi!" "shut your eyes!" and waited until we all had our hands over our eyes to yell "TA DA!" and throw fake coins all over the room.  His parents automatically laughed and clapped "Oh, bellissima! Bellissima!" "Oh, beautiful! Wonderful!" It was such a stereotypical, laid-back Italian reaction.

Also on these trips I met the Sicilians that hang out around parking lots and tell you whether or not you can park somewhere.  I never quite figured out who they were or what the purpose was, but Giorgio was often arguing with them or slipping them a euro coin so we could park somewhere.  The entire country of Italy, but especially Sicily, is still under the control of the mafia and although I don't know, I'm guessing this has something to do with that and the corrupt powers in control of the area.  I said to Giorgio once (in Italian, but here in English), "I don't understand. You aren't allowed to do anything here.  But, you actually are allowed to do everything.  There are rules for everything but there actually aren't rules for anything." He laughed and said, "That's exactly it. That is Sicily. You have understood everything now."

Which brings me to the fact that I can't actually accurately quote anything we have ever said to each other.  His English and my Italian are at about the same level, proficient but not fluent.  He has a strong, strong Italian accent.  I have an extremely strong American accent.  One of his friends couldn't get over it, "You sound just like American actors speaking Italian sound on TV.  Just like them!  Say 'troppo' again." He would then turn to Giorgio and say "e cosi americana. COSI americana." "she is so American.".

Giorgio and I had language confusions all weekend long and I never stopped finding it hilarious.  Once he showed me pools of water and tried to explain what happened there in the past.  I could swear he said, in italian, this is where the fish were "elevato".  "Elevato?" I said.  "Si, elevato."  Elevato means elevated and all I could imagine was a bunch of fish mystically floating over pools of water.  "Ma, elevato significa ... " "But elevated means ..." I mimed slowly lifting my hands.  We both laughed.  It turns out I misheard and the word was similar in sound to "elevato" but I'm still not sure what the fish did there.  He also made me laugh so many times by somehow incorporating obscure English words into his vocabulary.  

I wish I had written then all down because I can't remember any now.  But every time all I could think was, "Where do you learn these things? Who would ever teach you that obscure/difficult word?" Other times he would throw in funny references that he must have gotten from music or movies.  "Look at him," he whispered to me once, pointing at his friend who was wearing a suit with the suit jacket draped over his shoulders at the bar, "He's trying to look like a boss."  "Like... a boss?" I said, laughing.  "You know, yes, like a boss." Pop culture references all over the place.


On top of the joy I got from language barriers and the beauty of Sicily itself, I enjoyed eating and drinking with his family so much.  His father Pippo is a "wine expert".  He trains sommeliers.  He is also a cheese and olive oil expert.   We share the same birthday, so for our birthday we went out to a Sicilian restaurant. He took over ordering completely, sending more Sicilian food to our table than we could possibly eat. He took the process of selecting a wine very seriously. He also asked me if I knew the Italian song "Volare". When I said I did, he called the accordion player in the restaurant over and requested the song. Soon our table and every other table in the restaurant erupted into a group song of "Volare".

Overall, it was the best birthday I could have ever asked for and I will never forget Sicily.



And here are some more photos of the trip to look at as you play "Volare":

Interactions with Strangers on the Streets

My friend Leza just posted photos from last semester.
I love them all, they're bringing back such great little memories.
Couldn't help but post one or two.

1.
Today I gave a small group of Canadian tourists directions to get to the market.  As I left they congratulated me and told me, "Wow! Your English is great!"

This shows that either:
A. I'm starting to really blend in here.
B. Those tourists lack some observational skills.
C. All of the above.
D. None of the above.

After I explained to them that I'm American and asked where they were from, I told them that I would really like to live in Canada at some point during my life.  At this point in the conversation one of the Canadians who had been looking at a map on a bench, not engaging in the conversation, suddenly popped up and said, "Great! I'll sponsor you!"  We all kind of laughed as if the joke made sense and I went on my way. 


2.
I was eating a cone of gelato about an hour ago, leaning on a little wall looking at a view, when a German family came up and asked if I could take a photo of them. I had the gelato and couldn't really take a one handed photo, so I just said "Sorry .." and kind of pointed at my gelato, thinking they would ask someone else.  Instead the dad said "No problem, no problem, I take the ice." and before I could answer, snatched my gelato cone out of my hand and put his camera in the other.  Then, as I took the photo, he decided it would be funny to balance my gelato cone on his daughter's, then wife's head.  All I have to say is: that was all a little invasive, my German tourist friends. 


3.
One day, as I was jogging on the fortezza, I noticed a guy walking around up there in a white suit.  Not a white jogging suit, a white suit suit, like he just finished prom or something, except that he was probably thirty.  When I jog around in the fortezza I generally jog the whole thing about 3 times, so I pass the same old men on picnic benches and mothers and babies playing in the grass about three times each before I leave.  So I just kept running past this strange man in a white suit. The first time he said, "Oh, um, ciao!" and I said, "Ciao." and continued running.  The second time, he was waiting for me and said, again, "Oh! Ciao, um, signorina, Mi scusi -" I again said, "Ciao.", waved a little, and kept running.  I checked to make sure I hadn't dropped anything, in case that was why he wanted my attention.  I hadn't.  The next time I see him I'm leaving the fortezza and have to pass him to get out.  I run past him and as soon as he realizes its me, he starts running after me, again with the "Um, ciao.. "  Literally. He was running after me, in a suit, in the streets of Siena. I do not like being chased by strange men so I just kept running.  Good news, I can out run possibly mentally unstable men in dress suits. 


A few days later I was walking through the piazza, dressed in normal clothes with my hair down, when I see a man in a black suit who reminds me of the man from before.  He turns around and I realize that's because he is the same man, in a different suit.  He sees me and suddenly comes to life again, "TU! La ragazza dalla fortezza!! CIAO! Um -" (It's you! The girl from the fortezza! Hi!") I said, "Si, ciao." and kept walking again.  He clearly has something he feels he urgently needs to tell me but I'm pretty sure he just wants to ask for my number. And as none of the things he's done so far seem like normal behaviors to me (the suits, the chasing ...) I plan to avoid him until I leave.


4.
I was sitting in a cafe, writing for class, as old men slowly come in one by one, meeting each other for coffee.  They were laughing and gossiping and sometimes even whispering to each other about other people in the cafe.  I heard one say to the other as they both stared at me, "Lei e una bellina." (She's a pretty little one.)  One man came in later than the rest, assisted by a woman in her thirties, and of all the open places in the entire cafe, he chose to sit down right next to me.  Everyone laughed.  The old man was very well-dressed in such a way that it looked like he never left the 1940s.  He looked at me and says, "Ciao," then scooted closer.  The rest of what he said was garbled old man Italian and I missed most of it but I caught the end which was "siamo vicini."  (He either meant, we're close or we're "neighbors", which I took figuratively.) so I just smiled as said "Si, e vero, siamo vicini."  All of the old men laughed, "ha capito tutto! lei ha capito tutto!" (She understood everything!)  


It was a lot of fun. It all reminded me of so much of my grandpa and how he used to always go to coffee with his "coffee buddies", and had a woman helping him, and how if there had ever been a young woman sitting alone in the coffee shop that he thought was pretty he would have sat next to her to "flirt with" her just the way this old man did to me.  


That is Siena currently for me - sometimes strange but never boring. 

Maybe not the most flattering photo I could ever find,
but such a great memory. Dancing in the apartment with my
roommate Mollie on one of our final days last semester. 

On the Ligurian Sea, Under the Ligurian Sun

Courbet's interpretation of the Ligurian Sea

I'm a little behind on blogging right now. These past couple weeks have been a little busy. I’ve finished midterms, started working on final papers, put my summer plans together, registered for classes in the fall, made housing plans for Colorado, and traveled around Italy with my mom and dad. I've also been running a lot, found a yoga class, and last night I went to an unbelievable modern dance performance in the Santa Maria della Scala.

There is so much I could write about, but the most important event that has happened lately was clearly my trip with my parents. Our vacation was an incredibly relaxing trip to the Italian Riviera. We made day trips to places like Milan, Lucca, and Nice on the French Riviera. Other than that we stayed on the Italian Riviera, visiting the Cinque Terre, San Margherita and Porto Fino. The final day wrapped the entire vacation up as we went to Genoa to see an art exhibit full of artists' interpretations of the area we had been during the whole vacation. It was called “Mediterraneo” featuring artists such as Van Gogh, Matisse, Courbet, and Monet among others.

I don't have enough time to do the trip justice in words.  I actually have three windows open at once right now and am writing a literature paper, writing this, and watching a Woody Allen movie at the same time.  It's not the easiest multi-tasking I've ever tried.  So here is a compilation of the trip in photos.  Enjoy!

I had such a great time and miss you both.