a treat for all of your senses.

It has been brought to my attention, and I myself have noticed, that this blog talks a lot about FOOD. Eating and cuisine is a huge deal here in Italy, and I am not lying when I say it was definitely a top 3 reason factoring into my choosing Florence. I wanted a city, a country, where I could imagine eating the local cuisine for four months and not getting tired of it. I wanted to be tested, challenged, pushed to try new things, and in my four weeks here in Florence (WHOA, when did that happen?) I would definitely say that that has been true. Case in point: I am eating eggplant right now. Booyah.

However, food is not the only thing going on in my study abroad experience. I want to give a well-rounded view of how I'm spending my days and nights, so I am making an attempt this week to diversify the blog a little. We actually discussed writing through senses other than sight today in my writing class; I will try to apply that philosophy to the blog from now on.

This is kind of a lame way to open up my diversification, but I forgot my camera while I was out today, so no photos for you of the firetruck that felt the need to stop in the middle of a busy street, put up the entire length of its ladder, and have a fireman climb it for no other apparent reason than to cause gridlick. This is a song that has essentially been the soundtrack to my Italian life. It plays a lot in clubs, but I have also heard it playing in the markets and shops around town. Enjoy!





In other news, I may be going to see my friends Laura and KJ playing in the soccer "championship" against other study abroad programs tonight, just to mix things up a bit.


There is also always the option of going out to a club and being sexually harassed. Oh, Italy, how will I ever leave thee?

alaina's [postponed] thursday top ten.

I'm feeling a little grumpy today, after last night went SO badly, and the weather this weekend is screwing with all of our plans, so today's top 10 is going to be:

Top 10 Things I Hate About Italy

[Warning: There may be some profanity below.]

1. MEN. MEN MEN MEN MEN MEN. Just as an anecdote, I was innocently walking down the street last night with a cup of beer in my hand, when some drunken Italian decides that it would be HILARIOUS to just knock it out of my hand for no apparent reason. Fortunately, he got his comeuppane when Sam's friend Elaine, who has lightning quick reflexes and a taste for vengeance, tossed her beer into his laughing face, drenching him. Things like this happen with surprising frequency. Men think it's hilarious to touch you, harass you, and generally annoy you, and then they want to take you home with them. Then there are the street vendors, whose sad attempts at sexual harassment are nearly as pathetic as annoying. I could probably write an entire entry about how fed up I am with the male gender here, but I'll spare you. I don't know what kind of American idiots have conditioned them to think that this is okay, but the next Italian that messes with me is likely to get a boot up his ass.

2. Weather. It was ABSOLUTELY GORGEOUS outside yesterday, when I had class from 9 AM until 2:30 PM. Today, when I have nothing but plans to explore the city, it is pouring rain. Tomrorow, when we wanted to take the train to San Gimignano, it will be pouring rain. Sunday, when we were planning to stay inside and study all day, it will be lovely, sunny, and warm. This is Italy.

3. Sidewalks. I cannot tell you how many times I have had my life recklessly endangered by some lazy Italian who does not want to share the sidewalk, forcing me off of it into the road to be hit by some wayward Vespa being driven as if it had been stolen. They are narrow, slanted, paved with uneven and wobbly cobblestones, and generally covered with dog poop. This does not make for an enjoyable walking experience.

4. Doing laundry. The lack of dryers here is way more of a pain than I could have ever imagined. It feels like every time one load of laundry has dried on the rack, it's time to do another one. It is an endless cycle that I'm trying my hardest to appreciate for its cultural value, but failing miserably.

5. Tiny kitchen. Unless you and three of your closest buddies have ever been hungry all at the same time and trying to prepare a meal in a room the size of a broom closet, you cannot understand.

6. This is probably a nitpicky complaint, but the size of the milk containers. I am CONSTANTLY buying milk because they refuse to sell it in gallon sizes (yes, I am aware that they do not use our system of measurement, but it is my personal opinion that someone should add something larger than a liter to the metric system, if only so that they can sell milk in that size).

7. Showers. Honestly, I took showers for granted in the US. I have never been a huge fan of sitting under a stream of water for an endless period of time (unlike some people I know) but here, I have yet to take a shower that lasts longer than 5 minutes. It is incredibly difficult to shave AND wash your hair in that span of time. Kudos to the Italians; I don't know how they groom themselves in these medeival conditions.

8. The euro. Or honestly, the dollar. Why did Italy have to change from the lira system? If they hadn't, I'd pratically be swimming in all of the leather jackets and boots that I could afford [hyperbole].

9. Train strikes. Apparently the public transportation system workers are striking at odd hours this week, for God only knows what purpose. I don't know about you, but it seems to me that specifying the hours of your strike is an ineffective way to fight the man. But it does make my life a little bit more difficult, since I'm unfamiliar with the train schedule.

10. The weird store hours. It's mostly irritating on Sundays, when nearly everything is closed. The afternoon "siesta" time can be bothersome as well, if you only have a small window in whih to complete your errand....and the store is closed.

Well, now that I've shared that joy with you, I'm off to wait until the rain stops so that I can go to the Academia Galleria to see the David. If it ever stops pouring.

coffee, creeps, and el mercato centrale

So I really wanted to post my entry first, and the pictues last, but you'll have to look first and read about them at the end.

The Uffizi museum, from the Ponte Vecchio. My sad lack of photography skills does it no justice.

The actual Ponte Vecchio, or Old Bridge, from another bridge over the Arno River.

My first Italian caffe latte!



Haha, the apple martini from the previously mentioned aperitivo.

Fresh bread at el mercato.

The dried fruit stand in El Mercato Centrale

Just as a note, everyone who said that Italian men are creeps was not exaggerating. Every time that I have dared to set foot in an Italian street alone, I have been catcalled, whispered to suggestively, and one particular creep used a very cruel (albeit clever) pick-up line. I was walking to El Mercato Centrale (The Central Market -- pictures to follow) yesterday through a large area where people come to sell things like jewelry, leather goods, postcards, etc. I was rifling through my purse looking for my wallet to pull cash out to use at the market, when one vendor stops me by saying (in English), "You dropped something!" Anyone who has ever lost anything important abroad (as I have, many times) knows that this is a horrible thing to say to a tourist whose entire existence in a foreign country is dependent upon a credit card and passport. So when I understandably went into a mild state of panic, the vendor laughed and said, "You lost my phone number. Here, let me give it to you." Case in point.

So far we have been taken on several tours...historical tours, survival tours, orientation tours, tours galore. I'm fairly certain that I could tell you the exact name of a store where you could find any particular product, but I could never in a million years lead you to it. I am getting very handy with the map though, and I maanged to truck it across half of Florence in less than 10 minutes yesterday.

It has sadly been too cold for me to even crave gelato, but I can tell you that Italian coffee is amazing. If you want a lesson in the contradictions of Italian life, I suggest that you head into an Italian coffee shop, which they call bars. On our first full day in Italy, we were introduced to the pace of Italian life, which drives me, the fast-paced American, completely insane. They are late everywhere and have no concern for the time. One of my traveling companions noted on the first day the complete lack of clocks anywhere in public space. However, put these slow-moving, relaxed people into a crowded bar, and you can watch them order, receive, pay for, and knock back an esspresso shot in about 60 seconds flat. It is quite a sight. I'm sure that even now I'm very conspicuous in the bar that I'm at, as I slowly sip my caffe latte (with no sugar! I'm turning into such an Italian already).

The coolest thing I have seen so far (besides the view off the Ponte Vecchio -- again, pictures momentarily) is el Centro Mercato. It is FULL of the most amazing and cheap fresh fruit, vegetables, meat, dried fruit, olive oil, and pretty much anything else you can want. I purchased a nice bottle of olive oil while my roommate bought some super delicious balsamic vinegar for the salad we made last night. We also went halves on a loaf of fresh whole grain bread (delicious for breakfast with some nutella...mmmm). I also bought some fresh green olives, bananas, pears, romaine, and was given a clementine for free by the owner of one fruit stand, hah. I was going to buy some dried fruit, but there was a pair of women taking their sweet Italian time at the stand, and the market was about to close, so I'll have to go back later this week.

My computer is about to die, and I finished my latte, so I'll have to update more about the apartment and post photos of that later. Classes also start Monday, so I'm sure I'll have a lot to say when that happens. Arreviderci, for now.