I'd Like To Thank The Academy...

Best Moments of the 2012 Academy Awards

7. Hearing Peter Falk from The Princess Bride say “As you wish” one last time.
6. Christopher Plummer’s acceptance speech. What can I say. The man has a way with words. And an accent.
5. Emma Stone’s award presentation. She’s fun and quirky all wrapped into one. Haha, so punny. (But seriously, that bow on her dress was huge.)
4. Realizing James Earl Jones was the voice of Mufasa in The Lion King. He deserves an Oscar for that fact alone.
3. Realizing Bret McKenzie, from Flight of the Conchords, won Best Original Song. Also, realizing that he worked on the Muppets movie. Also, Will and Zach were pretty funny with their clashing cymbals.
2. Michel Hazanavicius. He won Best Director for The Artist, he’s French, and in his acceptance speech he told his kids that “It’s 6 in the morning in Paris so you should be in bed in 30 seconds.” Adorable.
1. Staying up to see the sunrise. I’ve never seen such a magnificent blue as an Italian sky at dawn.

A Vision of Venice

"...Thy sun-illumined spires, thy crown and crest!
White phantom city, whose untrodden streets
Are rivers, and whose pavements are the shifting
Shadows of palaces and strips of sky..."
                                                   - Henry Wadsworth Longfellow 

This weekend was more than fun. It was a dream. To go to Venice, to see the city of canals and Casanova, to tread where artists and artisans found inspiration for some of the world's greatest masterpieces, was mystifying. 

I was dazzled, ok?

We left Thursday evening, taking the train from Arezzo to Mestre and our amazing hotel. I had forgotten what it was like to have simple American comforts like fluffy comforters, big showers, central heating. Truly a vacation, and I enjoyed every minute of it. (Still missing those down pillows.)

Friday we took the bus into Venice and spent the morning strolling through the narrow streets, drinking it all in. Each turned corner brought a new spectacular view, each building more beautiful than the last. True to the experience, we got lost in Venice. More than once. It was perfect.

Hundreds of pictures later, you can see the highlights of the trip on my Facebook page. For your viewing pleasures, here is one of my favorite photos:

We got to see all the major sights, including my favorite, the Bridge of Sighs. Legend says that prisoners, after being condemned by the Doge's dreaded Council of Ten, were led across this bridge to the dungeons. As they crossed over, they would take one last look at the beauty of Venice and sigh. I'm not sure why I'm so enchanted with this picture in history - it's pretty morbid when you think about it - but I can so easily imagine the tension and anguish, the despotic aristocracy oppressing the political dissident. It's all very romantic.

If you will, imagine.


The next day, Saturday, we got vaporetto (waterbus) passes and we took a jaunt along the Grand Canal on our way to the islands of Murano and Burano. The boat passed the San Giorgio Maggiore and Santa Maria della Salute, two magnificent churches. 

It was here that I had a moment. 

It was one of those moments in life when a past daydream suddenly becomes a reality, when the castle in the air turns out to be a hazy reflection of the true building at ground level. Three years ago, I spent the summer in Boston taking Art History and Cultural Anthropology classes. That summer is an important milestone in my life, since my experiences in Boston  led me to decide my college major, broadening my vision and effectively influencing the rest of my life as I know it. Anyway, a pivotal point of that summer was when I sat in the Museum of Fine Arts for two hours, studying a painting of the Grand Canal by Claude Monet. I will always remember that day, and the musings of a hopeful teen in a world larger than her imagination. Three years later, I am riding a boat across the very canal that captured my attention so many afternoons ago, and suddenly the castle is real and I'm living the daydream. An unforgettable moment, to be sure.







(To get the full effect, listen to this song as you re-read this blog post. If I'd had theme music, this would have been it. The chorus is especially powerful, so blast it at full volume and imagine me drifting past La Salute with a huge, goofy grin on my face.)

Il Postino




I got mail today!!


Look how happy that face is.



This card is the highlight of my week. I'd like to send a shout-out to my grandma, who is always so thoughtful, especially while I'm away! Thank you so much for the wonderful surprise.


P.S. For those of you who are wondering, the title of this post is a reference to an Italian movie, which translates to "The Postman". I remember watching it for English Lit in high school. It's a lighthearted film about a mailman who learns what it means to create poetry. The film features the famous Chilean poet Pablo Neruda. Check it out!



Howlin' For You

I think I'll dedicate this post to the wind.

Let's face the facts. The wind has been very loyal through this whole snow ordeal. Every morning, without fail, the wind has been there to greet me when I walk out the door. It keeps me company when I walk around town. Even at night, it's just outside the window. And boy is it a good whistler!

So thanks, wind. You really blow me away.



Not.

But here's a song in honor of the ferocious wind raging outside at the moment. Enjoy!
Howlin' For You - Black Keys

We've reached a new low in the cold apartment dilemma. As I type this, my roommate is putting duct tape over the cracks in the door that leads out to the terrace. She's so determined. It would be a shame to dampen her spirits by informing her that we will probably be charged for paint damages.

Weather, Or Not

Bizarre things are happening in Italy. It's been snowing for the past four days, and the forecast predicts even more for the next three. Most of the village of Cortona is without power, and most schools cancelled classes. Now before you break out the hot cocoa and start singing "Frosty the Snowman," let me explain something:

This never happens.

It's true. Winter in Italy usually brings rain, not snow. We are in the midst of a weather rarity.

Our Art History class was cancelled on Wednesday, and we were eternally grateful because we were supposed to walk around Arezzo for three hours, looking at works of art and giving presentations. Instead, Kirk (our teacher) sent us an email about the cancellation and reminded us where the best hill was for sledding.

We are college students. We're practically adults.

So when Kirk suggested sledding, of course our natural response was: SLEDDING IS MY FAVORITE.

The hill was perfect. It is so steep and long that the city installed an escalator for people who want to walk up to the duomo. Therefore, you enjoy the swift journey down the hill on your toboggan, and then relax as you ride the escalator back up. It's all the joys of sledding without any of the work.

This was the day we learned about the cruelty of Italian children. A group of them climbed up the wall next to the sledding trail and proceeded to pelt everyone with snowballs as they went down. It didn't take long for this to escalate into a snow war.

All in all, it was a pretty great day.

The only not-so-great aspect of this weather is the lack of heat. I know that sounds a little ridiculous. I mean, it's snowing outside. Of course it's going to be cold. However, it's also cold inside. Actually, let me rephrase that. It's like an Arctic tundra in here.

Therefore, I present to you:

How to Survive a Cold Apartment
1. Wear lots of layers (including, but not limited to: sweaters, hats, scarves, blankets, long johns, etc.).
2. Put on more layers.
3. Wear, at minimum, 4 pairs of socks.
4. Make coffee; cradle hot mug as if it were your firstborn.
5. Laugh about how cold it is.
6. Complain about how cold it is.
7. Hug radiator.
8. Google frostbite symptoms.
9. Repeat Step 2.
10. Make a how-to survival guide to pass the time.

At least it's pretty out there.

Florence, Food, and Fun

Dearest readers,

I spent the day in Florence on Friday, and it was wonderful. If you're friends with me on Facebook, you can see the pictures from our great adventure here.

After some problems with the trains (somewhere in Italy there is always someone in sciopero, which means on strike) we finally made it to one of the most beautiful cities on Earth. We had no plan, no schedule, and the whole day before us - and it couldn't have worked out better. We spent the day strolling along le vie, stopping occasionally to take pictures or to take in the sights and sounds.

By far the greatest part of my day was seeing the Duomo. In the center of town, it looms majestic over all of the other buildings.





When I rounded the corner and caught my first glimpse of the dome, it literally took my breath away. I know it's very cliché, but pictures just can't capture the beauty of this cathedral.




The experience was awe-inspiring. To know that this beautiful, ornate structure was built for the purpose of worship, to see the reverence the architect had in creating a house for God, and to realize that something manmade, something even as magnificent as this, can't even compare with the glory and riches of heaven... an unforgettable moment, for sure.

Speaking of moments, I had one of my first, "I'm in Italy. I am in Italy. I'm in Italy!" moments when I saw the Duomo. Then I had another one when I saw the Ponte Vecchio (literally "Old Bridge") on the Arno River. All in all, it was a wonderful day.

On Saturday, we got up and went to the market again, where I stocked up on clementines and tomatoes. I also found a black leather jacket for 10 euro. I'm still unsure I can pull off the black leather look, but I've been working on my rebel image. Just the other day I ripped the tag off of a mattress. Watch out, James Dean. 

Saturday night was girls' night with Elisandra and Mac. For dinner we made lettuce wraps drizzled with honey soy sauce, and had a variation of bruschetta with pesto and tomatoes as an appetizer. After that we enjoyed an assortment of truffles from our favorite gelatería.  Delicious.

We will probably be going on our Sunday afternoon walk pretty soon. I'm reviving the tradition Annahlyse and I had in Norman, taking some time to wander the city and be refreshed. It should be a great day.

A presto, i miei amici!

Getting to Know Arezzo

I'd like to talk about my classes, but a story must be told first.

After class today, I came home to a surprise. I got out of the elevator (we've named him Guido) and I heard unfamiliar voices coming from my apartment. Just then the front door opened and an older Italian man and woman are standing there, holding our television.

Now most people at this point would probably be somewhat wary of the fact that two strange people are inside their apartment, much more so if they were toting their possessions out the door. Me? I wasn't sure if I should help them or call the police. Honestly, I considered going back downstairs because the whole situation was just awkward.

The man said something to me in Italian. Then he said "Arrivederci," to which I replied the same (not wanting to be rude, you see), and then they were both gone. With the TV.

It only dawned on me later that it was probably my landlord, named Aldo, whom I've never met. Our TV doesn't work, so he was probably taking it to get fixed or something. Fortunately, Leanna saw my earlier Facebook status and confirmed my suspicions, so I don't have to wonder forevermore if this was the day I got robbed.

I also spilled hot tea all over myself earlier, so it's been a pretty eventful day.

Anyway, let's change the subject to what I've been learning the past few days. Friday was our first Getting to Know Arezzo class; I'll get to that later. Monday I had International Politics, Literature, and Film, which I think I am really going to enjoy. Every other week we alternate watching a movie or reading a book, and then spend class time discussing the issues. Yesterday we watched a film called "The Girl in the Cafe," a romantic comedy with some political struggle thrown in. Today, I had Italian class, in which we played a game similar to Monopoly and answered questions about ourselves, and Art History, in which Kirk Duclaux lectured on the basics of formal art analysis: color, line, shape, form, and texture. They were both good, and I'm excited to pursue both studies.

The GTKA class on Friday was really interesting. Among other things, Charlotte talked about cultural norms and the conflict that evolves from the differences between them. Each people group inevitably harbors some degree of ethnocentrism, and it's important to be aware of this in order to look past it and encounter a culture with fresh perspective. To practice, we were sent out into the community for half an hour to observe a conversation take place and use basic observations such as setting, participants, tone, and sequence in order to deduce the cultural norms at play.

I learned a lesson about the importance of observation and how it affects our cultural understanding. Charlotte explained that when we make an observation, such as when we look at a picture or when we hear someone talking, we really only have a split second of true observation before our mind is flooded with opinions, thoughts, ideas, even topic changes. We only consider the object for a few moments before we are already thinking about something else, or worse, making judgments about the object in accordance with our limited perspective. Therefore, as Charlotte said, we need to "take away the cloud," and simply see things. We need to simply hear things. We need to observe in the most basic way in order to more fully understand context, understand the meaning behind things. This is important, for if we can experience without letting our preconceived ideologies cloud our observations, we might be able to understand why something is done differently in this culture as opposed to our own.

More important, we might be able to appreciate that Italians do some things better.

Blog Updates

Hello brave readers,

First:

There is this girl named Megan. She is one of the most beautiful people I know. And where do beautiful people go? France, of course! Her amazing blog, called Bonne Chance, about her study abroad can be found here, and I strongly advise you to read it if you enjoy good writing. But you are only allowed to read it if you promise not to judge my blogging skills after feasting your eyes on her delightfully dazzling web journalism.

Also, if you want to read it later and can't remember the name, you can always find the link at the bottom of the page. At least I think you can. I'm still trying to figure out this new-fangled technology business in which I usually take no part.

Second:

I also think that I have made it easy for you to get email updates every time I post something new on my blog. Simply enter your email address, and you'll receive the updates! Aren't the interwebs grand?

Third:

This is just a fun picture I want to share with you.

I accidentally took a polarized photo today when I was trying to capture us sitting in front of a church. The self-timer tactic failed, and I ended up with this photo of myself running up the church steps.

I like it. I think it's kind of artsy.

Che Sará, Sará

Ciao a tutti,

My days are getting busier, and I love it! So many experiences in such a short time. I'll have to start making a list of firsts. First cappuccino, first six-course meal, first time using that odd, awkwardly tiny bath/shower contraption... There are a lot of things to get used to, and since I'm still in the honeymoon period of my stay, I'm enjoying all of them.

Well, maybe 'enjoy' isn't the right word. I can appreciate my experiences, good and bad. For instance, I don't necessarily enjoy getting stuck in a tiny European elevator between the second and third floor, but I can recognize the fact that it will make a funny story later. I'm not particularly fond of our leaking radiator or the washing machine that gives me an electrical shock whenever I touch it, but I can appreciate that overcoming these obstacles will make me more independent. I wouldn't verbally invite everyone on the sidewalk to bump into me and not apologize or say excuse me, but as it is I can practice my dodging abilities. I'll have excellent dexterity upon my return.

Your experiences are what you make of them, so why not make them positive? Accept dysfunction and disorder without complaint, because these syncopations turn the basic rhythms of everyday life into a ragtime melody.

This is the basic premise of my blog. In fact, the name is derived from a Doris Day song called "Que Sera Sera" which, in Spanish, loosely means "what will be, will be." I've translated it to Italian for obvious reasons, but you get the idea. It's a reminder, nay, a challenge, to live and let be. It's a manifesto of sorts to give up trying to control my life and trust in a higher power to get me through. Although we can't predict the future, we can be prepared for it. So, dear readers, take the advice of Miss Doris. Whether or not you'll be handsome and rich, stop worrying and appreciate the value of every experience.

"Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own." -- Matthew 6: 34

Reflection (not the Disney song from Mulan)

Buona notte,

I realize it's a bit late in the game to be tacking this on now, but this is an integral part of my study abroad experience, and I wanted to start it off right.

Kristen Partridge, the Director of Student Affairs at OU, came to talk to us at the end of last semester in preparation of going abroad. She spoke about communication and identity and ideologies, the good and bad about being in a different culture, the importance of perceptions and expectations. It was all very good, and she left us with questions to reflect on before we leave, after we get there, and after coming back. I think this is a great way to document my self-actualization process and all that jazz, so here I go.

1. How and why did you choose the particular location of your study abroad? Who or what influenced your choice?
I first got the idea to study abroad in Italy from my sister, who wanted to do the same thing but ended up deciding she would rather graduate a year early. I have always loved Italy and the Italian language and culture, and I wanted to immerse myself in it for a while. Being a sociology major, the thought of learning about a group of people and how they interact with each other is thrilling to me.

2. What expectations and what pre-conceived notions do you have of your host culture?
When Kristen asked this, she asked what visual image we pictured when we think of Italy. She said that if we can recognize that as an expectation, we will know why we have or have not felt satisfied with our experience abroad. My expectation? An old man in a suit riding a bicycle. Don't ask me why, but if I don't see an old man riding a bike (and the suit is very important) I will not be completely satisfied. Also, children yelling while running through a vineyard. I don't know why they are yelling, but they must be yelling - and running - in a vineyard. 

Pre-conceived notions are silly.

3. What are your expectations about your academic program? What do you hope to learn, and how do you envision the instructors and learning environments?
When I think of the classes I will be taking in Italy, I imagine lectures in front of a statue. I imagine very small class sizes and getting to know professors very well. I'm sure they will be time consuming, but I hope my classes are not going to be too difficult and that I will be able to apply everything I learn to my understanding of Italian history and culture.

4. How do you feel about leaving home and campus? What are you glad you'll be leaving behind? What do you think you'll miss?
It's definitely a bittersweet departure. I am so excited for Italy. I can't wait to experience... everything. Language, food, beauty. On the other hand, I am really going to miss the community I have at OU and all of the close-knit friends I have there, as well as my family, not to mention that I'll miss speaking English all of the time.

5. What ideologies are you taking with you? 
This is a tough question. It's like asking what my worldview is, but how can I describe objectively something I have always thought to be true? Here's the best I can do: I am definitely not as fashion-conscious as most Italians; I just don't care about brands, about presentation, about material wealth that much. I also believe in common courtesies, especially with strangers, and I guess I expect everyone else to abide by the same standards. 

I'm not sure what ideologies I am taking with me, but they will certainly make themselves known in time, especially if they clash with the ideologies I encounter along the way. I welcome the challenge, because being aware of your own perspective is the gateway to recognizing everyone else's. 

Saldi

Stores in Italy have sales only twice a year, usually in January and August. These sales are called Saldi. Everything is crazy during saldi because you can get almost anything for 50-70% off.

Saldi is dangerous, I tell you.

Warnings aside, let me show you a few things that I've purchased so far. I'm wearing a new white shirt today that I got from Zara (for only 10 euro!).

(Awkward self-photo)









I also got these beauties yesterday. I call them beauties since I love basics.
A) Everything was on sale except for the shoes, but they were still a good deal and I love them.
B) I think I've always secretly wanted to own a pair of mustard yellow tights. I have no further explanation.
C) Warm socks!

That's all for now. I also bought a really cool skirt, but I don't have a picture yet. I'll be taking souvenir requests through the end of January. Ciao!

Fa freddo a Firenze...

Buona sera a tutti,

Saturday my first roommate arrived. Her name is Lindsay, and her 21st birthday was Sunday. In honor of her birth (and because we really wanted to go shopping) we hopped on a train to Florence Sunday afternoon in hopes of finding the rumored 3-story H&M there.


The train ride was timed perfectly at sunset, and the countryside left me in a Tuscan daze.







These photos do not do it justice. 






We got to Florence and took a cab straight to the store, since it closes early on Sunday. It was a madhouse thanks to Saldi. I'll explain Saldi in the next post. After shopping ourselves out at H&M and Zara, we were starving. However, everything in Italy closes by about 8 pm in Italy. Usually in the big cities places will stay open longer, but like I said, it was Sunday. 

In our search for dinner, we stumbled upon a wonderful window display. I took my picture in front of it.

I think you know why.


Finally, freezing and frightfully hungry, we found a pizzeria that was just about to close. The only things they had left were a calzone and a small, square pizza slice. The owner threw in both for only 2 euro, and we enjoyed a much-needed meal. 

We caught a taxi back to the train station because we couldn't stand the cold any longer. Also, we wanted to be safe, and two girls alone at night in a big city didn't seem like a wise decision. Anyway, we bought our train tickets easily enough, but the train didn't show up when it was supposed to. There wasn't even a track number, so we stood there in the cold, waiting. About ten minutes after we were supposed to have left, a guy who was trying to catch the same train suddenly turned towards us and shouted "Sixteen!" and took off running. Lindsay and I looked up at the Departures screen. Looked at each other. "Sixteen? Sixteen!" And we took off as well.

What a great first in Firenze.

Mio Apartamento

Top 5 Things I Love About My Apartment:

1) The views from the balconies. Yes, we have more than one balcony. We even have a separate, enclosed balcony for hanging things up to dry. The view from my roommates' room is much better - you can see all the way up the hill to the duomo - but I like the view from my room just as well. You can see the train station and the more modern side of town. Here it is below:

2) The trinkets. Apparently our landlord's mother used to live in our apartment, and the decor attests to this. There are little details everywhere: tassels on the curtains, doilies on the chair, gold and black varnish everywhere. To be honest, it kind of looks like a garage sale in here, but I love it. We even have a hat stand!

3) The grandfather clock. Sitting opposite the front door, it's one of the first things you see when you walk in. Huge and ornate and, well, clocky, this grandiose specimen is a treat for the eyes. Too bad it doesn't work anymore; it's merely for decoration.

4) I also love the fact that to flush the toilet, you have to pull a cord from the ceiling. Oh yes.

5) And lastly, the floors. Every room has a different kind of floor. Some are tile, like the bright orange squares in the bathroom. Some are vinyl, like the brown and tan design in the kitchen. The entryway looks like marble. I like the floor in my room most of all. Here's a sneak preview:

     All that said, my apartment is pretty hard to describe. It has so much character that I feel a little unworthy of abiding in it. I'm sure I'll get used to it, though.

Journey to Arezzo

Buon giorno! I just spent my first night in Italy. It's about 8 am here, and this is the view from the bed & breakfast I'm staying at:
     So let's recount the last 36 hours, shall we?
     After my first flight to Washington, D.C., I had a layover of an hour and a half, so I checked my email. The first message was from my study abroad advisor telling me that the girl I was supposed to be flying over with had been rejected at the airport because the start date on her visa was not until January 16th, and the airport official thought it likely that immigration officials in Rome would either send her back or detain her for three days! You can imagine my anxiety as I boarded that plane to Rome.
     The next 8 hours were spent feeling a mixture of excitement and terror. I finally decided not to worry about what would happen. I got out my iPod, and the plane landed as I listened to "Fly Me to the Moon" by Frank Sinatra. Thankfully, I had no problems at passport control (some guy barely even looked at my papers).
     Next on the agenda: get to Arezzo. I had a vague idea of how to do this, but for some reason signs in Italian are a little more confusing than signs in English. Go figure. I ended up giving a guy some money and getting on a bus. Even if the bus didn't take me where I needed to go, I figured I would get a nice tour of Rome out of it, and I did. The small part of the city I saw was very cool, a blend of ancient and modern, with a little rustic thrown in. When Katy Perry came on the radio (and the bus driver started nodding his head to the beat), the globalization process was complete.Fortunately, the bus stopped at the train station, where I bought a ticket to Arezzo. The train was supposed to leave in the next 14 minutes, and I realized I had no idea where the right track was. After some helpful workers pointed the way, I heaved my suitcase on just in time and headed into the countryside.
     Jet lag took over after I made it to the bed & breakfast, and after a nap I met Charlotte and Leanna, who are the OUA representatives here in Arezzo. Charlotte said my apartment would be ready the next morning and gave me a map of the town. I got a slice of pizza for dinner, and then went to bed at 8:30 and slept another 9 hours.
     That is all the detail I can manage for now. Time for breakfast, and then to see my new apartment!

Flying High


 *Note: this post is from yesterday. I finally reached Arezzo, but that post will have to wait until after I succumb to jet lag...*
     
     One broken backpack, ten packs of tissues, and a few restless nights later, I am finally at the airport, waiting to board.
     I’d like to take this time, ladies and gentlemen, to draw your attention to a travel miracle: I fit everything into one suitcase. One. Suitcase. My life’s possessions for the next four months have been neatly folded into a simple, black 27” container. I even had room for a towel!
     The only problem I've had to deal with so far is a cold which crept up from behind and proceeded to launch a severe frontal assault on my nasal passages. No worries there, though; a mom came to the rescue. Megan’s mom, that is. The night before I was to travel, I told her of my plight and she swiftly opened the medicine cabinet and started to pile pills on the counter. The following conversation took place:

Mega-Mom: Take this, and… oh, oregano. Take some of that too.
Me: Those are huge and a weird green color.
Megan: What do they do?
Mega-Mom: They… not sure, but they make you feel better. Just take them.

     I didn’t care how sketchy it sounded. I popped all of those pills so nonchalantly you’d think I regularly ingested strange herbal supplements. And you know what? I’m feeling much better. You may think the moral of this story is: when you feel terrible, take a bunch of medicine to make it go away. And you would be wrong.  It’s actually: Trust your mother, or your friend’s mother, because she has good drugs.