As I write
this, I am sitting on a slanted rock wall that allows the higher water of the
Arno to flow into the lower water of the Arno, like a waterfall. I chose this location to work on my “homework”(blog)
after an extensive search that went like this: I got out of class at 3:15 and
said goodbye to my roommates. As much as
I love doing things with them, I wanted to experience the city by myself to see
how I could handle it like a local. I
began walking leisurely (what I thought was leisurely, until I realized I was speeding
by literally everyone I walked by) across the Ponte Vecchio. I stopped at a gelato shop and, before I
could change my mind, bought myself a small cup filled with azteco (white
chocolate and cinnamon – amazing) and lavender. I’d been avoiding trying lavender because
it sounded like I’d be eating perfume, but today I figured it was the middle of
the afternoon and hot out, so why not try eating a flower. I ended up loving it. It wasn’t a strong taste at all. Maybe the
best way to explain it would be to say it is like the creamiest, fluffiest
vanilla ice cream, with a tiny bit of lavender flower sprinkled on top. It probably still sounds ridiculous, because
who wants to eat a flower, but it was the perfect snack for a walk along the
Arno. Then I walked to the other side of
the bridge and along the Arno until I found a beach area. I remembered being told that you could sit
right beside the rushing Arno water if you sat further down a path beside the
beach, so I began walking down this path.
Turns out, its covered by slick mud and pigeons and broken beer
bottles. I was considering staying
anyway and finding a dry patch when I looked across the river and saw a perfect
sitting area in my same location on the other side. I walked back up to the street and was about
to begin my trek to the other side when I noticed you could follow a path
upwards and end up at a fountain high on a hill. So I decided to do that instead. I began walking up steep steps. I’d already finished my gelato by then
(stupid small portion sizes; stupid skinny Italians) and I was sweating, but I
was hoping the top would be the perfect study spot. When I reached it I sat down at the fountain;
it was only then that I noticed if I walked further
up, I could see the whole city. So I
picked my stuff up and began to walk the steep incline, flanked on either side
by tourists and who I assumed were locals (because they were alone and without
cameras. Also, they didn’t have the same
nervous-I’m-going-to-get-mugged look).
When I reached the top, I realized that it was absolutely beautiful… but
there wasn’t anywhere to sit. Then I
decided that after all, I had liked
that fountain spot, so I walked back to it and sat down. Where I had a perfect view of the other side
of the river and the perfect spot right beside the rushing water. It was then that I decided I’d stop being lazy
and just walk to it, so I grabbed my backpack and walked all the way to the end
of the road to cross a bridge to the other side. The whole time I was thinking, thank goodness
I am alone, because no one on earth could tolerate all this moving and
indecision. Finally I reached the other
side and walked a small rock path to the clearing. I’ll post some pictures of the spot, but
really it isn’t the view I like as much as the sounds: as I type I can hear
rushing water that sounds like a waterfall.
I can hear birds flapping their wings as they fly off. But best of all, I can’t hear any people or any sounds of traffic. I am at peace.
So now I’ll
explain earlier today, since I loved it so much, and then I’ll explain my
weekend. I haven’t written in a while
because we’ve been bombarded with homework, which is mainly a problem because I
really do think I’d be learning so much
more if I could put my pencil down and go out onto the streets of Italy. But I’ve gotten into more of a pattern (do
weekend homework on Thursday, right after class, so I don’t stress about it)
and that helps. Plus, our GST teacher
has promised to cut it out with all the reading about food. So, anyway, back to today. It is probably one of my favorite days so
far, because it is the first day I really feel like a local, not a
tourist. That isn’t to say I feel
Italian. It’s more to say that I feel
like someone who is trying to acclimate herself to the culture around her,
rather than forcing the people of Italy to acclimate to me and my language and norms. For example, after class I was able to get to
the other Academia di Europa building to sign up for a cooking class, which
previously took me about 45 minutes to find because I was incredibly lost. This time, I was there in 5 minutes. From there I was able to find the bookshop
with my map simply because I recognized so many street names. I only started walking in the wrong direction
once! After the bookstore I began
walking in the direction of the grocery store to get cereal and food for
dinner, since it’s my turn to cook tonight.
On my way I passed a smaller grocery store and thought I’d try it (I
also passed an older man standing beside a younger man. The older man said ciao to me, so I politely
said it back. Then he said, “My younger
cousin is for sale,” pointing to his cousin, but in my haste I thought he was
annoyingly trying to sell me something, so I said a bit abruptly, “no, thank
you.” Then I realized what he’d said and
felt awkward so I said, “oh! Sorry. Maybe!” Which probably wasn’t a much better
response).
Anyway, so I entered this small grocery store. Not only was I able to find oatmeal (such a
delicacy here – costs more than my dinner and is absent everywhere else I’ve
looked) and honey, but I was also able to speak entirely in Italian to the workers of the grocery store. Granted, I only said a few words like si (yes),
cosa significa --- (what does --- mean… he didn’t let me finish this one before
he interrupted in English, so there was that), and dove e miele (where is the
honey), but the point was, I was able to understand how they answered me, even
with some words I didn’t know. When the
man at the counter said pronto? (ready?) I replied “Pronto!” which was my first
experience, basically, saying anything other than yes or hi in Italian. So moral of the story, I’m pretty much fluent
now.
After the
grocery store I ate the most delicious meal of oatmeal, honey, and blueberry’s
I bought at the market on my street. Not
exactly a typical Italian lunch, but I was feeling guilty after spending 5
whole euros on oatmeal. So that will be
my meal from now on. Then I unpacked,
went to class, and had my little excursion that led me here.
Okay, so
now for my weekend. This weekend my
roommates and I booked a trip to the French Riviera through Bus2Alps, a tour
group primarily for students studying abroad in Italy (or anywhere in Europe,
actually, but for me, Italy). We started
the trip Thursday night at 9:00 p.m. We
didn’t arrive in Nice, France until 3:00 a.m.
We had one 45-minute break, of which I spent munching on Ritz crackers
because I refused to eat breakfast at 2 in the morning. I slept on and off the whole way. When we arrived, it was immediately clear
that the city was different, architecturally and aesthetically, from Florence. Most of the buildings were a light cream
color. There weren’t any buildings I saw
with pinks or yellows or browns, and no brick.
Most of the buildings had beautiful dark metal balconies with intricate
designs. The streets were much wider
than in Florence, without cobblestone, and most importantly, without many cars
or people. The tram ran throughout the
city, which meant cars weren’t permitted on a road as long as there were tracks
on it. This in itself was strange,
because at all times of the day the road looked the way Florence does at 4
a.m. But most importantly, like I mentioned,
the roads were practically deserted of people.
I don’t mean literally, but I do mean that in comparison to Florence,
there was probably a 1:50 ratio of people on the streets. I never had to say excuse me or walk around
anyone because there was so much free space.
The sidewalks themselves were the sizes of roads.
Anyways, so
we all passed out immediately when we got into our beds at the hostel. I imagined a hostel to be sort of a dirty and
run-down place, but ours didn’t look much different from a hotel or motel
(except part of the ceiling was apparently missing, but I didn’t even notice
that until night 2 when my roommates pointed it out because why dwell on the
negative?) We got up, happy as could be
(I say this incredibly sarcastically) at 7:30 a.m. Showered and changed, we met downstairs in
the lobby so our guide could walk us to the other hostel, where other students
were and where our free breakfast was.
On the streets of France I felt energized immediately. People were sitting outside on the sidewalks
in small cafes, and it reminded me of perhaps a Hemingway novel or an old
movie. Truthfully, it never felt like a
real place. It felt like a movie set.
After
breakfast Morgan, Rachel and I decided to sign up for scuba diving. I’d heard the night before that it was an
option and I asked them to do it with me.
It was something I’d always wanted to do and was simultaneously
terrified of doing. Part of me thought,
“why not just wait until another trip? You can do it anywhere,” but I knew I’d
regret not doing it. After signing up we
got a tour of Nice. We walked through
smaller side streets that looked to me more like Florence (Nice is influenced
by Italian architecture in some parts because it used to be an Italian city)
with colorful buildings. Still, the main
buildings looked much different from what I am used to because they were
cream-colored, not brick, and much more intricately designed with small but
crucial aesthetic details. I’ll post
pictures because it is impossible to describe.
We also learned a few interesting stories, such as a robbery that took
place in Nice where the man escaped out the window onto a moped and was never
heard of again. There were also 7
statues at the tops of some of the lampposts in the main square, and I fell in
love with them when I learned that they pointed in the directions of the 7
continents.
We were
given a break from our tour to walk through the market in downtown Nice. Markets are everywhere, I’ve found, in
Europe. They are one of my favorite
places to go. Filled with fantastic
looking fruits and vegetables, nuts, spices, honey and jam, desserts, meats,
cheese – and each food so carefully considered, so significantly picked for
freshness, that even buying an orange from the market is exciting. Plus, it’s a good chance to speak with the
locals and to try to bargain for deals.
I got a tangerine for free, for example, but I’m not sure if that’s
bargaining so much as it’s simply the guy was too lazy to figure out the price
of just one. I looked at some of their
soaps and plates, thinking of gifts for home, but couldn’t think of a practical
way to go scuba diving with them. After
the market we walked to a top spot of Nice where you can see the whole city. Admittedly, the tops of cities are beginning
to look the same to me now, and I wasn’t any more impressed than I was at the
top of the Duomo. But looking out into
the Mediterranean is experiencing something new every time you look. It’s just so endless and beautifully
blue. We took pictures and stood beside
a waterfall. Then we climbed to the
bottom. I talked to our guide-friend,
Dan, who told me about living in Alabama and a great art museum just built
there with (apparently) the biggest collection of American art. Something to add to the bucket list, I guess. When we got to the bottom of Nice, beside the
yachts in the harbor, our guide took those of us who were scuba diving to a
little shop along the coast. We were
fitted with scuba gear and signed waivers.
The waivers, luckily, said nothing about our safety: only that we
promised to listen and follow directions.
We grabbed sandwiches before leaving and I learned that the stereotype
of the unfriendly French person is not entirely untrue: we were all yelled at, while handing over money, for “being in
France but not speaking French! Ridiculous! Learn our language!” I completely
agreed with the man, of course. We were
arrogant Americans, assuming that he should be forced to learn how to speak to
us in his country rather than the other way around. It would be the same if the French came to
our country and began ordering hamburgers in French. But I couldn’t help but feel frustrated: we
were only here for one weekend! Why did we need to learn French for a weekend?
*sidenote: a group in a raft just glided down this little
wall beside me… I have to do that!
Anyways,
after we were all fitted with gear we brought our tanks and masks onto the
boat. We took the boat out onto the
coast and anchored near some high rocky mountains. It took about two hours for it to be my turn,
but in the meantime I swam around the boat and got my gear on. Finally, a man said, “Who is next?” I’d
wanted to go with Morgan and Rachel, but it seemed like this was my opportunity
and we apparently couldn’t go together anyway (since we weren’t
certified). So I raised my hand and swam
over to him. He (aggressively) strapped
a vest around me and handed me the mouthpiece for air. He showed me the scuba sign for “okay,” one I
already knew. Then he said, “Do this
signal if your leg is bitten off by a shark.”
He laughed. I definitely
didn’t. He motioned towards the water.
“Okay, go down.” He said. It seemed too
abrupt to me, but I put the mouthpiece in my mouth and went under. It was the most surreal feeling to breath underwater. Immediately I came back up because he pulled
my arm. “No hard kicking!” He commanded,
showing me the motion with his hands of my apparently rapidly moving legs. “Soft, gentle kick.” He slowed his hands down
to show me. I nodded, unable to speak
because my throat felt blocked. I was
suddenly so nervous, but when he motioned for me to go under again I did. Just like that, I was part of a world I
hadn’t ever been apart of before. It was
the calmest sensation. Truly, the only
sound was my own breathing. He held onto
my hand and guided me lower. I could
breathe fine, and I’m sure I could have breathed like that for hours, but I’ll
admit it wasn’t long before I thought I
can’t wait to reach the surface and breathe for real. It wasn’t that it was hard, but something
about breathing underwater didn’t give me the satisfaction of a real
breath. Perhaps it was all in my
head. Anyway, so I followed him down
towards the bottom. I watched the fish
swim, unaware and unafraid, past me.
They were all light blue or grey with small black or yellow spots. I didn’t find them as interesting as I found
the bottom of the ocean. Since I wasn’t
certified, this wasn’t far from the surface, and the guide was in control of my
oxygen tank. My only job was to kick
slowly and observe, following his lead.
He touched the coral and sponge at the bottom, so I did the same,
noticing my hand looked marble-white.
Then he reached in-between two crevices, and as if he’d planted it there
himself, came out with a circular shell with a hole in the middle, which was apparently
(I found out later) alive at some point.
I don’t know a thing about biology so I can’t say what it was, but it
was purple and prickly and beautiful. I
held onto it gently with my hand for the rest of the time.
It was also
interesting that I didn’t feel cold the entire time underwater. I didn’t feel refreshed necessarily,
either. I guess I didn’t notice
temperature at all after a while. The
man picked up a barnacle (prickly like a porcupine… I think a barnacle?) and
put it in my hand, urging me with hand gestures not to move. When I felt it suction itself to me, he
turned my hand over. It didn’t fall
out. Finally he picked it off me and set
it down, pulling my hand so I could follow him along the bottom. The entire sensation was unlike anything I
could experience anywhere else or properly explain here. Imagine you had a dream where you were stuck
in an aquarium tank with these creatures all around you, but you could breathe
and didn’t have any comprehension of time.
It could’ve been an hour in your dream, but it could have been only
three seconds before you woke up. This
is what it was like.
After
everyone had a chance, we pulled the anchor up and headed back. On the boat ride back, I asked some guys and
girls on our trip how they felt holding the guide’s hand. Apparently, I was the only one who’s hand he
held. So I guess it wasn’t exactly
protocol. Maybe I looked like I needed
the extra help, but some of the guys were joking, “you were on a date under
there, huh?” The guide came over to me
and my friends and offered us wine, only encouraging the teasing, but none of
us were about to turn him down. Anyway,
so finally we docked and went home.
We got a
quick dinner at some Chinese restaurant and then met at 9:00 at a bar called
Wayne’s Bar. It was a bar in downtown
Nice where cover bands played each night, and the rule was that when a cover
band was playing you could not sit
down. You had to stand the whole
time, either on tables or chairs or the ground.
I didn’t mind the rule, but it wasn’t exactly the music for
dancing. They played slow covers of
Jupiter, for example. Also, the prices
were ridiculous. One beer cost 6 euro,
and that was the cheapest thing on the menu.
Normally, a 6-pack of beer at the store costs about 6 euro. So we didn’t stay too long, maybe an hour,
before leaving.
We planned
on walking to a club but suddenly we were inexplicably exhausted (actually, it
probably could be explained: 4 hours of sleep, tops?) Instead, I asked if we could get crepes, the one thing I had been dying to do all
day. So we walked to this outdoor café
and ordered crepes with sugar and strawberries.
So delicious and totally worth the trip.
We went to
bed by 12:30 and woke up at 8, so not the greatest sleep but not the
worst. We got ready quickly and had
another free breakfast at the other hostel (each morning we had at least two
pieces of toast and two bowls of cereal, since it was our only free meal). Then we took the bus to Eze, a small medieval
town with a perfume factory. We were
given a tour here, but it really seemed to me more like a great marketing tool
for them: “this is where we make the best perfume using lavender… it’s only 26
euro if you want it in the big bottle, and we can give you a smaller bottle for
16 euro.” After, we soaked ourselves in
the various tester products simply because we couldn’t choose which smelt
best. It was fun, but it was basically a
way to connive us out of money. After
the tour we walked to the gardens of Eze, with beautiful sculptures along the
way and plants from all over the world (some cactuses, for example, were from
Mexico.) When we reached the top we took
plenty of pictures. On the way down we
grabbed lunch. Sandwiches here, for the
record, are so much better than in the U.S.
Each ingredient tastes like you picked it straight from the garden.
We then
took the bus to Monaco/Monte Carlo. We
were dropped off right in front of the Monte Carlo casino. This was clearly a place for the rich. We walked up a red carpet just to enter. The ceilings were high and covered in
elaborately painted murals of golds and reds and yellows. We were stopped at each entrance point and
asked whether we were going to enter the casino. If we did, we needed our passport in
hand. We decided not to enter because it
was 10 euro just to get inside and then I’d presumably lose all my money inside
anyway. I decided I will come back when
I have unlimited travel funds. So then
we ended the day on the beach. I swam in
the ocean by myself for a while. We read
our books for class. Then we went back
to the hostel. We had a great dinner at
a seafood place – probably my most expensive dinner so far, 25 euro, and
probably not worth it apart from the bread.
Still, it was fun, and then we went home and crashed. We’d planned on going out but couldn’t find
the energy.
The next
morning we had an 8 a.m. wake up call.
We were on the bus by 10. We took
the bus to our last destination, Antibes.
This is probably my favorite place so far. Antibes is apparently the “yacht capital of
the world” (with the most yachts in their harbors). The town itself was beautiful. To me, it consisted of (and I know this is
only because I didn’t have enough time to truly explore) one straight road
under a brick archway. The road was
lined with small French cafes, coffee shops, and bakeries. We attended a market that closed at 1. The market had the usual fresh fruits and
foods, etc., but it also had beautiful jewelry and clothes. I got a smoothie and fruit for lunch and ate
it on the beach. I spent time in the
water and walked along a rock pathway to look out into the ocean. We spoke for a while with some Europeans, a
guy from Italy and a guy from Antibes. I
wanted to practice my Italian on the guy from Italy but chickened out. At 3:45 we departed for Florence. It took us hours longer than it was supposed
to, and we didn’t get home until midnight.
But the trip was entirely worth it.
That’s all
I have time to write about now, because I’m supposed to be making dinner
tonight and I’m sure my roommates are fuming that I’m not back yet (at least,
if their hungry they are). But last mention of this spot: as the sun sets, it
is the most beautiful and peaceful place in the world (only slight
exaggeration). The red-orange blazing
sun is reflecting off the water and setting in a way so I can only see the city
as one continuous shape of domes and bell-towers and trees. There’s a cool breeze and the sound of the
river down this little wall never ceases.
^Monte Carlo Casino
^Antibes
^Antibes beach
^Nice
^Monte Carlo
^Inside the casino
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