Hey blogosphere,
I made it to my gate. Two posts in one day is NOT something you should come to expect, but there are only so many things to do with an hour to kill at the gate. I already called my parents, my grandma, and Ashley. I called my bank and the VISA people and notified them of upcoming travel. I decided to save my baby bourbon for my train in Italy tomorrow. I survived a TSA full-cavity search. That last part was a joke, they let me through pretty easily.
I'm really not sure I've ever been less stressed while traveling. Everything today went exactly according to plan. I hope this is a sign of things to come.
I did realize that I do not have a map of Siena. I can probably pick one up at the station there... but nothing comes free. Or I could just pray my Italian is still good enough to ask an old lady on the street. I remember Piazza del Campo is roughly south from the station. I'm meeting Carrie in the piazza, God willing, around 7 tomorrow evening. I am very, very excited to be abroad.
First items on my agenda:
1) Get a coffee.
2) Gelatoooo.
3) Pizzaaaa.
4) Absinthe shot. It's a longstanding plan of Carrie and mine.
Until you hear from me again,
Ciao ciao.
Sent on the Sprint® Now Network from my BlackBerry®
30 June 2011
Testing the e-mail posting feature.
I'm on my bus to New York, and everything is smooth sailing so far. I slept about 3 hours, and I'm about to try to take a nap. Traveling with a backpack is much nicer than traveling with suitcases.
The one thing I wish I'd brought so far that I didn't: rubber bands. I have power cords nearly strangling me every time I reach into my "carry-on" bag. Zune cord, Evan's iPod cord, my Blackberry cord, headphones. It's like a pit of cobras.
Now, I'm going to doze off to Beyonce, whose new album is, by the way, pretty damn smooth.
This afternoon I'll arrive in New York (7th and 33rd), catch the E at 34th/Penn Station, and head out to JFK. The Italy end is a little less... organized...
Sent on the Sprint® Now Network from my BlackBerry®
I'm on my bus to New York, and everything is smooth sailing so far. I slept about 3 hours, and I'm about to try to take a nap. Traveling with a backpack is much nicer than traveling with suitcases.
The one thing I wish I'd brought so far that I didn't: rubber bands. I have power cords nearly strangling me every time I reach into my "carry-on" bag. Zune cord, Evan's iPod cord, my Blackberry cord, headphones. It's like a pit of cobras.
Now, I'm going to doze off to Beyonce, whose new album is, by the way, pretty damn smooth.
This afternoon I'll arrive in New York (7th and 33rd), catch the E at 34th/Penn Station, and head out to JFK. The Italy end is a little less... organized...
Sent on the Sprint® Now Network from my BlackBerry®
29 June 2011
The Last Night
Tonight is my last night in the United States. It's been really hectic, because I put off ALL of my packing and preparation until today, and I barely got everything done.
I have to wake up at 4 in the morning, which is going to be difficult, to make it to my dad's by 5. Leaving dad's by 5:15 to head into DC, and then catching a bus up to New York. Flying out of JFK at 5:15 PM, 12 hours after I really begin traveling.
This is my bag. It weighs exactly 25 pounds. That's a tiny bottle of bourbon next to it. I'm saving it for the subway ride to JFK. This is a bad picture, but it's late and I'm tired.
23 April 2011
Guess what, followers?
I'm going ba-aaaack!
Coming soon: updated Italy travel blog. I figure I'll rename it... any ideas?
09 August 2010
back "home" (?)
I arrived at the train station in Perugia around 11:30 AM Friday, local time. I arrived home, at my mom's house, around 11:30 PM Saturday, local time. My transit time, after converting all the time differences and all, was about 42 hours from Perugia to Edinburg. I slept for about 45 minutes on one of my planes and about an hour on the bus from New York to D.C.
I'm glad to be done traveling, even if I'm not sure how glad I am to be in Edinburg again. Travel is an adventure, but it's also exhausting.
My plane ride from Dublin to New York was nice, though. Although we sat on the plane for an extra hour before we even took off, because they apparently broke part of the luggage compartment while loading our bags... It took them an hour to fix, but I sat beside this really friendly Irish guy named Marc on that flight, and he was very talkative and fun. He was flying to New York to visit his sister, who lives upstate and just had a baby, and he's staying for two weeks. He said he used to visit his sister about twice a year, but it had been longer this time, and he was excited to make it to the States again. I told him a bit about Italy and my travels. Overall, we were on that plane for about eight hours, and even though we didn't talk the entire time, it was nice to be sitting next to him, so I felt less completely alone for the entire trip.
What else is there to write about? Not much. Today, I have to start sorting through pictures. Perhaps I'll upload a batch to Facebook (I almost typed, "book-o'-the-face," in homage to Tyishia--damn, I miss everyone).
Ciao ciao
Oh yeah, I texted Zach last night, "I haaaaaate the US." He responded, "well the hatred will go away, but your desire to go back will never stop!" I thought this was very funny. I don't know if it's encouraging or not.
I'm glad to be done traveling, even if I'm not sure how glad I am to be in Edinburg again. Travel is an adventure, but it's also exhausting.
My plane ride from Dublin to New York was nice, though. Although we sat on the plane for an extra hour before we even took off, because they apparently broke part of the luggage compartment while loading our bags... It took them an hour to fix, but I sat beside this really friendly Irish guy named Marc on that flight, and he was very talkative and fun. He was flying to New York to visit his sister, who lives upstate and just had a baby, and he's staying for two weeks. He said he used to visit his sister about twice a year, but it had been longer this time, and he was excited to make it to the States again. I told him a bit about Italy and my travels. Overall, we were on that plane for about eight hours, and even though we didn't talk the entire time, it was nice to be sitting next to him, so I felt less completely alone for the entire trip.
What else is there to write about? Not much. Today, I have to start sorting through pictures. Perhaps I'll upload a batch to Facebook (I almost typed, "book-o'-the-face," in homage to Tyishia--damn, I miss everyone).
Ciao ciao
Oh yeah, I texted Zach last night, "I haaaaaate the US." He responded, "well the hatred will go away, but your desire to go back will never stop!" I thought this was very funny. I don't know if it's encouraging or not.
Dublin Airport
What would a travel blog be without an actual entry written in transit? Here it is, written on my 11-hour overnight layover in Dublin Airport.
1:50 AM Saturday, 7 August (Dublin time);
2:50 AM Saturday (Italy time);
8:50 PM Friday, 6 August (Eastern time)
Sitting in Dublin Airport in the middle of the night is interesting. It would appear that everyone awaiting a morning connection, like me, found their ways to the only part of the airport that didn't seem deserted: the food court (although everything but McDonald's is closed; I'm running on a mccappuccino and a "chicken legend with spicy salsa"-do we have chicken legends in the states?).
Many are alone; some are in small groups. Many are asleep; a few are reading, writing, or chatting with companions. I'm listening to music, having read a bit of La chimera, which I like very much but have to absorb in small amounts. I'm satisfied with my comprehension, but I read so slowly. But back, for a moment, to the night-owls of Dublin Airport. Most are young adults; families have gone to hostels, I presume, but the young are always game to run off little sleep, or to sleep if possible on a bench of couch, and I like this attitude. Still, there is a curious smattering of older adults. That spirit must live on in some people. I hope I still have it in my 40s, 50s, or 60s.
It being past 2 now, I have something between 6 and 8 hours until boarding. My boarding pass and Travelocity receipt appear to me to differ, but the departures board will clear up any confusion as it slowly, slowly updates in the coming hours (not many changes happen in the middle of the night). And as I'm not overly tired, I think I'll power through and watch the board stagnate for a bit. I need to pass through security and passport control again and to obtain a U.S. customs sheet, whatever that is. But at least I don't have to check in again, as I already have my boarding pass. I like airports. I don't even mind sitting here.
I'm thinking of continuing to blog, but I suppose I lack a topic that would draw even a meager handful of readers. If anyone has ideas or suggestions, I would gladly hear them. I also plan, since my internet access has been shoddy, at best, to continue to post on this blog some of the pictures I've taken that I like most. And if you, reader, are tired of this blog: don't read it, what are you still doing here, anyway?
Ciao, faithful friends and followers!
I wonder how long I'll have the gut reaction to respond to certain things in Italian? I said, "si', si'," earlier in response to a question about my chicken legend...
Post-script (5:00 AM Dublin time)
I figured out my Italian response instinct: it's based on the expectation I've developed that Italian was the guaranteed common language of everyone around me and my tendency to anticipate certain questions and prepare approximateanswers. Sitting with my cup of coffee, just now, I watched a woman walk toward the bar and wondered if she were going to ask if she could sit at the next seat; in my head, I found myself saying, "Si', certo! Prego!" This, despite everyone in Ireland speaking to me in English. I doubt if many in this airport right now even speak Italian.
Oh! But while I'm thinking of it, I spoke with an American family returning from a brief stay in Rome at Fiumicino, and upon hearing that I study Italian, they asked me what "prego" meant! Oh, prego. It means so many things.
1:50 AM Saturday, 7 August (Dublin time);
2:50 AM Saturday (Italy time);
8:50 PM Friday, 6 August (Eastern time)
Sitting in Dublin Airport in the middle of the night is interesting. It would appear that everyone awaiting a morning connection, like me, found their ways to the only part of the airport that didn't seem deserted: the food court (although everything but McDonald's is closed; I'm running on a mccappuccino and a "chicken legend with spicy salsa"-do we have chicken legends in the states?).
Many are alone; some are in small groups. Many are asleep; a few are reading, writing, or chatting with companions. I'm listening to music, having read a bit of La chimera, which I like very much but have to absorb in small amounts. I'm satisfied with my comprehension, but I read so slowly. But back, for a moment, to the night-owls of Dublin Airport. Most are young adults; families have gone to hostels, I presume, but the young are always game to run off little sleep, or to sleep if possible on a bench of couch, and I like this attitude. Still, there is a curious smattering of older adults. That spirit must live on in some people. I hope I still have it in my 40s, 50s, or 60s.
It being past 2 now, I have something between 6 and 8 hours until boarding. My boarding pass and Travelocity receipt appear to me to differ, but the departures board will clear up any confusion as it slowly, slowly updates in the coming hours (not many changes happen in the middle of the night). And as I'm not overly tired, I think I'll power through and watch the board stagnate for a bit. I need to pass through security and passport control again and to obtain a U.S. customs sheet, whatever that is. But at least I don't have to check in again, as I already have my boarding pass. I like airports. I don't even mind sitting here.
I'm thinking of continuing to blog, but I suppose I lack a topic that would draw even a meager handful of readers. If anyone has ideas or suggestions, I would gladly hear them. I also plan, since my internet access has been shoddy, at best, to continue to post on this blog some of the pictures I've taken that I like most. And if you, reader, are tired of this blog: don't read it, what are you still doing here, anyway?
Ciao, faithful friends and followers!
I wonder how long I'll have the gut reaction to respond to certain things in Italian? I said, "si', si'," earlier in response to a question about my chicken legend...
Post-script (5:00 AM Dublin time)
I figured out my Italian response instinct: it's based on the expectation I've developed that Italian was the guaranteed common language of everyone around me and my tendency to anticipate certain questions and prepare approximateanswers. Sitting with my cup of coffee, just now, I watched a woman walk toward the bar and wondered if she were going to ask if she could sit at the next seat; in my head, I found myself saying, "Si', certo! Prego!" This, despite everyone in Ireland speaking to me in English. I doubt if many in this airport right now even speak Italian.
Oh! But while I'm thinking of it, I spoke with an American family returning from a brief stay in Rome at Fiumicino, and upon hearing that I study Italian, they asked me what "prego" meant! Oh, prego. It means so many things.
05 August 2010
non sono pronto
Translation: I am not ready.
What have I been doing since Genova? Well, after a hell of a lot of internal debate, I ultimately decided that I did not want to spend my last days in Italy stressed, changing trains, dragging my luggage onto and off of buses, always in a panic, and I decided I wanted to come back to Perugia.
I've been careful ever since I got here not to waste my time. I know that I'm going home soon, and I've always wanted to feel like I was getting the most out of every minute. But a lot of factors went into my decision to stay in Perugia my last three nights, and it took some advice and reflection to realize why this decision ultimately felt right. First: I am not in Italy to be a tourist. One day, I will tour every place in Italy, preferably with a friend or two, but that day is not today, and I came to Italy on this occasion to live. I have too much stuff to haul around as a tourist, and I don't enjoy the feel. Second: if I came to Italy to live in Italy, just to exist in Italy, I feel like there is much more to take out of getting to know one place better than of getting to know one or two additional places on a superficial, one-day-in-the-city level. And third, since I left Perugia, I realized how much I took it for granted. In my month of living there, I'd never been inside the Duomo, didn't even know it's name (San Lorenzo), and never walked down streets I passed every day.
So I'm back in Perugia. Riccardo, who is a saint, offered me my bedroom (for I think of it as my bedroom, and my house) for as many nights as I wanted, and picked me up at the station, even though I had already found a hostel and the appropriate bus to get there. And so I feel at home.
Yesterday, I walked around Perugia all day, stopping at home to make a simple lunch, went into several churches, and made several revelations. It took a month of living here for me to turn a corner yesterday and realize, "WHAT? This street goes RIGHT THERE?" I am just now realizing how many shortcuts I didn't know about every day I was here. Which is actually really funny.
But I return for a moment to Genova. The morning I left, I managed to get lost on the way to the station. Either the woman at the hostel had no idea what she was talking about, misunderstood me (in English), or I am simply too stupid to get off the bus at the right stop, but I got massively lost. I eventually, dragging my luggage down the freaking mountain that is Genova, asked a woman for help. I must say I'm proud of myself; to all of the people I asked for help that day (at least 4), I spoke only in Italian. So this woman directed me to the general vicinity of the station, saying, "Tranquillo... non è lontana." ("Relax, it's not far.") And I found a street I recognized from the day before, but that street was closed due to construction, and after a massive detour, I made it to the station on time. I had to change trains not once in Pisa, not twice, in Florence, but thrice, in some podunk town the name of which I cannot and do not even want to remember; I managed to find my way around the stations, and have I mentioned, one wheel on my suitcase broke my first day in Genova?
But returning to the present, today is my last full day in Italy. Today, I bought for myself a small Italian coffee-maker (una caffettiera) and a Università per Stranieri di Perugia t-shirt (una maglietta), and I am good to go. I started reading two books on the trains from Genova to Perugia: Vanity Fair, by W.M. Thackeray, and La chimera, by Sebastiano Vassalli. La chimera is molto difficile (very hard), but I'm on chapter 6, around page 60, and I understand a good bit of what's going on, even when pages go by in incomprehensible blurs.
What am I going to miss most about Italy? Well, Perugia for one. I don't know what it is about Perugia that I love so much, but I just do. In a lot of ways, in mood and atmosphere, it reminds me of Richmond, and that could be why I took to it so quickly. I'm also definitely going to miss the 2 Euro coin, which I LOVE. Why don't we have 1 and 2 dollar coins in the United States (at least in wide circulation)? It's more convenient than carrying so much cash, and it fits perfectly into my hand, and I might save just one as a souvenir to myself.
I don't know what else. But I'm not going to miss this internet caffè.
What have I been doing since Genova? Well, after a hell of a lot of internal debate, I ultimately decided that I did not want to spend my last days in Italy stressed, changing trains, dragging my luggage onto and off of buses, always in a panic, and I decided I wanted to come back to Perugia.
I've been careful ever since I got here not to waste my time. I know that I'm going home soon, and I've always wanted to feel like I was getting the most out of every minute. But a lot of factors went into my decision to stay in Perugia my last three nights, and it took some advice and reflection to realize why this decision ultimately felt right. First: I am not in Italy to be a tourist. One day, I will tour every place in Italy, preferably with a friend or two, but that day is not today, and I came to Italy on this occasion to live. I have too much stuff to haul around as a tourist, and I don't enjoy the feel. Second: if I came to Italy to live in Italy, just to exist in Italy, I feel like there is much more to take out of getting to know one place better than of getting to know one or two additional places on a superficial, one-day-in-the-city level. And third, since I left Perugia, I realized how much I took it for granted. In my month of living there, I'd never been inside the Duomo, didn't even know it's name (San Lorenzo), and never walked down streets I passed every day.
So I'm back in Perugia. Riccardo, who is a saint, offered me my bedroom (for I think of it as my bedroom, and my house) for as many nights as I wanted, and picked me up at the station, even though I had already found a hostel and the appropriate bus to get there. And so I feel at home.
Yesterday, I walked around Perugia all day, stopping at home to make a simple lunch, went into several churches, and made several revelations. It took a month of living here for me to turn a corner yesterday and realize, "WHAT? This street goes RIGHT THERE?" I am just now realizing how many shortcuts I didn't know about every day I was here. Which is actually really funny.
But I return for a moment to Genova. The morning I left, I managed to get lost on the way to the station. Either the woman at the hostel had no idea what she was talking about, misunderstood me (in English), or I am simply too stupid to get off the bus at the right stop, but I got massively lost. I eventually, dragging my luggage down the freaking mountain that is Genova, asked a woman for help. I must say I'm proud of myself; to all of the people I asked for help that day (at least 4), I spoke only in Italian. So this woman directed me to the general vicinity of the station, saying, "Tranquillo... non è lontana." ("Relax, it's not far.") And I found a street I recognized from the day before, but that street was closed due to construction, and after a massive detour, I made it to the station on time. I had to change trains not once in Pisa, not twice, in Florence, but thrice, in some podunk town the name of which I cannot and do not even want to remember; I managed to find my way around the stations, and have I mentioned, one wheel on my suitcase broke my first day in Genova?
But returning to the present, today is my last full day in Italy. Today, I bought for myself a small Italian coffee-maker (una caffettiera) and a Università per Stranieri di Perugia t-shirt (una maglietta), and I am good to go. I started reading two books on the trains from Genova to Perugia: Vanity Fair, by W.M. Thackeray, and La chimera, by Sebastiano Vassalli. La chimera is molto difficile (very hard), but I'm on chapter 6, around page 60, and I understand a good bit of what's going on, even when pages go by in incomprehensible blurs.
What am I going to miss most about Italy? Well, Perugia for one. I don't know what it is about Perugia that I love so much, but I just do. In a lot of ways, in mood and atmosphere, it reminds me of Richmond, and that could be why I took to it so quickly. I'm also definitely going to miss the 2 Euro coin, which I LOVE. Why don't we have 1 and 2 dollar coins in the United States (at least in wide circulation)? It's more convenient than carrying so much cash, and it fits perfectly into my hand, and I might save just one as a souvenir to myself.
I don't know what else. But I'm not going to miss this internet caffè.
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