Thinking that after spending two weeks in the city, we ought to actually take a tour, last Monday we jumped on the FatTire bike tour. Although marketed as a 4-hour tour, it is really a 2-hour tour followed by an hour and a half spent at a beach bar (where the goodies are not free). So while maybe not the best value for the money, it was still good to get a little insight and history on the city. One interesting tidbit is that the only original part of the cathedral from the 15th century is a set of steps, on which Columbus was received by Ferdinand and Isabel after not falling off the edge and being eaten by monsters. Another is that while bull fights were outlawed about 4 years ago, they continue to be held every Sunday in a fairly large stadium.
Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday meant class days, and gosh, it almost feels like I'm going to school. Tuesday at 10am (we're talking early) was our first meeting of International Economics. A three-student, two-professor class, I expected it to be fairly interactive and seminar-like, but in reality we sat in Fernando's office while he lectured at us for two hours. It was an interesting lecture on the origins of cooperation between European nations after World War II, that will eventually lead to the European Union and the euro. Basically what happened, was that Western Europe wanted to strengthen (with the help of the US) so that it wouldn't become communist, and no one was quite sure how much to let Germany handle its own growth. So France and Germany created a joint Coal and Steel Community that would be governed by a semi-autonomous "high authority", thus assuring both strength and oversight. Holland, Belgium, Luxembourg and Italy jumped on the bandwagon as well, so as not to be stomped on for lack of resources, and boom, you've got European cooperation. Hopefully things will get a little more conversational as we get more comfortable in the class, but for now, I'll just keep taking notes.
Spanish class was later that afternoon, and is my only twice-weekly class. I'm in the advanced class with two other kids from my program (again, three students), and we meet from 4-7pm. Our teacher, Julia, is a sprightly late 20-something who speaks a whole slew of languages, but to us, only Spanish. She speaks fast, but she's used to American students, so for the most part I've been able to understand what she's been saying. She is assuming that we've already learned all of the verb tenses, so our lessons have been at a high level and are very practical. We learned how to use the conditional tense to be polite, or give advice, as in "you could do something" is "podrías hacerlo", which isn't quite intuitive because it literally translates to "you would be able to do something". Anyway, you get the idea.
I think I've already posted about Art and Architecture, but it turns out I'm going to have to write a 10-page paper on Joan Miró. Not ideal in the least, but at least the class is graded pass/fail. The good news is that when I present my paper, I get to do it inside the actual Miró museum right here in Barcelona, pointing at the painting that I'm discussing. Kinda cool.
Friday, April 20, 2007
Sunday, April 15, 2007
Settling into the rhythm...
After being in Barcelona for 10 days, I've started acclimating towards life here. We finally got our class schedule (and gosh, I've even had one real class!), but it its contained entirely in the afternoon hours of Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday. Not too shabby considering this is my "vacation" from Stanford. So, with this abundance of time, we've fallen into a schedule that usually involves waking up at around 1-2pm, never leaving the apartment before 3, walking around or making ourselves occupied for the afternoon hours, eating between 9:30 and 10:30pm, and then going to bars until around 2am. The sun here sets around 9 due to the arbitrary nature of time zones, and that helps our afternoons-only lifestyle.
Food has come to dominate a large portion of our thoughts, conversations, and days. Surprisingly, the three of us in the apartment have made an honorable attempt at domesticity, and have eaten in four nights this week. We've had spaghetti and chicken, lentil stew, fajitas, and tapas, all thanks the presence of three supermarkets contained within our block. One of the markets, "Dia", generally prices its items for less than one euro, making our grocery trips (often four or more in a day) quite cheap. We've come to love our 0.49 euro bottles of red wine, and the 1.80 euro 12-packs of Dia brand lager (5.5%...beat that America). Not to mention 2-foot long baguettes fresh out of the oven for 65 cents.
One thing that we've experienced in this endeavor is the Spanish siesta. With all that clubbing until 6 in the morning, people who actually wake up in the morning need their afternoon breaks. This is true of the supermarket, the cell phone store and the Asian Bazaar two doors down from us. Stores close from around 2pm until about 5pm, but then generally stay open until around 9.
Side note: Time, as in all of the civilized world, is shown here in 24-hour time. It's amazing how much simpler things are when you don't have to ask AM or PM. The metric system, as well...incredible.
Spaniards are a well-dressed people, and if not expensively, at least time-intensively. I get the impression that most guys my age spend at least half an hour making themselves cute, and those are the straight ones. I thought my gaydar would be somewhat off, but in reality the whole spectrum is just shifted about an hour and a half's worth of prep time.
I tried to remedy my vastly under par wardrobe a little bit, and have bought a few shirts and a new pair of shoes. Zara, the Spanish version of H&M, is a pretty cool store with reasonable prices (although that 1.35 exchange rate can sneak up on you). The shoe situation was a little more desperate, because to walk comfortably I had been wearing my ultra white sneakers. Like a shining beacon, they broadcast my status as an American tourist more than anything. So I bought a pair of what believe to be trendy casual shoes: my first new pair in over three years.
Now, you may be wondering more about the actual school portion of this program. I'll be taking three classes; Spanish, International Economics and Modern Spanish Art & Architecture. The latter two will be once a week for about two hours, and all of the classes are only with students from ALBA, my program. The econ class is at a local university, with two professors and three students. Our first meeting took place at the cafeteria, so we could have coffee and the female professor could light up her cigarette. This will be our first full week of classes, including Spanish for which we only took a placement test on Thursday.
Upcoming plans: Wednesday the three of us in the apartment bought tickets to go to an FC Barcelona match as part of the Spanish cup, so we're planning to bring a case and enjoy a crazy crowd of Barcelona's sports fans. Also, Saturday morning David and I are flying to Marrakech for a 48-hour Moroccan adventure. Stay tuned.
Food has come to dominate a large portion of our thoughts, conversations, and days. Surprisingly, the three of us in the apartment have made an honorable attempt at domesticity, and have eaten in four nights this week. We've had spaghetti and chicken, lentil stew, fajitas, and tapas, all thanks the presence of three supermarkets contained within our block. One of the markets, "Dia", generally prices its items for less than one euro, making our grocery trips (often four or more in a day) quite cheap. We've come to love our 0.49 euro bottles of red wine, and the 1.80 euro 12-packs of Dia brand lager (5.5%...beat that America). Not to mention 2-foot long baguettes fresh out of the oven for 65 cents.
One thing that we've experienced in this endeavor is the Spanish siesta. With all that clubbing until 6 in the morning, people who actually wake up in the morning need their afternoon breaks. This is true of the supermarket, the cell phone store and the Asian Bazaar two doors down from us. Stores close from around 2pm until about 5pm, but then generally stay open until around 9.
Side note: Time, as in all of the civilized world, is shown here in 24-hour time. It's amazing how much simpler things are when you don't have to ask AM or PM. The metric system, as well...incredible.
Spaniards are a well-dressed people, and if not expensively, at least time-intensively. I get the impression that most guys my age spend at least half an hour making themselves cute, and those are the straight ones. I thought my gaydar would be somewhat off, but in reality the whole spectrum is just shifted about an hour and a half's worth of prep time.
I tried to remedy my vastly under par wardrobe a little bit, and have bought a few shirts and a new pair of shoes. Zara, the Spanish version of H&M, is a pretty cool store with reasonable prices (although that 1.35 exchange rate can sneak up on you). The shoe situation was a little more desperate, because to walk comfortably I had been wearing my ultra white sneakers. Like a shining beacon, they broadcast my status as an American tourist more than anything. So I bought a pair of what believe to be trendy casual shoes: my first new pair in over three years.
Now, you may be wondering more about the actual school portion of this program. I'll be taking three classes; Spanish, International Economics and Modern Spanish Art & Architecture. The latter two will be once a week for about two hours, and all of the classes are only with students from ALBA, my program. The econ class is at a local university, with two professors and three students. Our first meeting took place at the cafeteria, so we could have coffee and the female professor could light up her cigarette. This will be our first full week of classes, including Spanish for which we only took a placement test on Thursday.
Upcoming plans: Wednesday the three of us in the apartment bought tickets to go to an FC Barcelona match as part of the Spanish cup, so we're planning to bring a case and enjoy a crazy crowd of Barcelona's sports fans. Also, Saturday morning David and I are flying to Marrakech for a 48-hour Moroccan adventure. Stay tuned.
Monday, April 9, 2007
Gaudy Gaudi
Due to the postponement of orientation until Tuesday, Friday through Monday were open to exploration, debauchery, and a fair about of alcohol consumption. Friday night we met up with the other Stanford girls and a few others from the program, and over the weekend we gradually met the rest of the students on the program. There are 13 of us in all, including 4 from Stanford, one from Dartmouth (Scott, my third roommate, who arrived late last night), 6 from Portland State (the school that runs the program), and two from Mercyhurst College in Erie, PA.
The couple who run our program are truly a Jack and Jill of all trades; they run ALBA, they run a travel company that organizes day trips out of the city, and are part owners of a bar in the one of the nightlife areas. They're well-connected to a lot of the tourist-oriented people as well as many locals, and with their help we've found many great bars to try.
Many bars also serve food or tapas, and one such bar we went to serves them almost as a butler would at a cocktail party. When you enter this place, they give you a plate, and then you go around grabbing bread-mounted tapas for your plate. They're all made up of a piece of baguette with meat, cheese or fish on top, and are held together with toothpicks. You can also order glasses and bottles of wine, standing in groups around tall tables or at the stand-up bar. At the end, you hand them your plate and they charge you based on the number of toothpicks you had (assuming none accidentally fell to the floor).
Besides partaking in the multitudinous bars the city has to offer, we've spent some days seeing the more touristy attractions as well. Most notably, we saw two of Antoni Gaudi's projects: the Parc Guell and the Sagrada Familia. The most ridiculous cathedral ever built, La Sagrada Familia remains unfinished even after 100 years of construction. It is the one people refer to as the "drip castle", because of its lack of straight lines and unique architecture. Inside, the columns are tree-like in their conception and geographically complex in their construction, not to mention ten towers, 300 feet tall. Those towers await the addition of eight more towers; the tallest, representing Jesus, is expected to be around 500 feet tall. Gaudi designed the cathedral, and it was essentially all he worked on in the final years leading to his death.
Before building the cathedral, Parc Guell is a collection of Gaudi silliness that makes you feel a bit as though you're traveling through CandyLand. It's a large park on a hill in the northern part of the city that has a view of the city and the sea, and contains many nature-inspired installments including a long "wave" of rock (imagine the view of a surfer riding inside a tube of a wave), intricate houses and other architectural indulgences.
We went from there to a supermarket for 0.79Eur bottles of wine, and then to the apartment of some of the other students a bit farther from the city near the beach. We opened the bottles, spent some time sitting on the beach (and freezing, it gets cold at night especially on the water), before heading back to make some dinner.
Around this time Scott, our final roommate, finally arrived. He had a tumultuous trek from Rome completing his 3-week European adventure and slept for about the next 16 hours.
On Tuesday we finally had orientation, which basically consisted of a 1-hour conversation followed by a 2-hour lunch. The directors gave us a handout including lots of tips on making the most of time in Barcelona, in addition to our cell phones. Turns out classes are going to only be on Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday, and all after 1pm. Not too shabby. I'm taking Spanish for 3 hours twice a week, in addition to Modern Art and Architecture in Spain and International Economics. The classes are only with the kids on our program, so they range in size from 3 to 10 students. The Econ class is being taught at a local university (as opposed to the International House, where the ALBA classroom is), so that should be interesting.
With all that free time, we're already starting to think about travel. My roommate, David, and I are considering a Moroccan adventure for next weekend, with roundtrip flights around 90Eur. Should be quite a trip.
The couple who run our program are truly a Jack and Jill of all trades; they run ALBA, they run a travel company that organizes day trips out of the city, and are part owners of a bar in the one of the nightlife areas. They're well-connected to a lot of the tourist-oriented people as well as many locals, and with their help we've found many great bars to try.
Many bars also serve food or tapas, and one such bar we went to serves them almost as a butler would at a cocktail party. When you enter this place, they give you a plate, and then you go around grabbing bread-mounted tapas for your plate. They're all made up of a piece of baguette with meat, cheese or fish on top, and are held together with toothpicks. You can also order glasses and bottles of wine, standing in groups around tall tables or at the stand-up bar. At the end, you hand them your plate and they charge you based on the number of toothpicks you had (assuming none accidentally fell to the floor).
Besides partaking in the multitudinous bars the city has to offer, we've spent some days seeing the more touristy attractions as well. Most notably, we saw two of Antoni Gaudi's projects: the Parc Guell and the Sagrada Familia. The most ridiculous cathedral ever built, La Sagrada Familia remains unfinished even after 100 years of construction. It is the one people refer to as the "drip castle", because of its lack of straight lines and unique architecture. Inside, the columns are tree-like in their conception and geographically complex in their construction, not to mention ten towers, 300 feet tall. Those towers await the addition of eight more towers; the tallest, representing Jesus, is expected to be around 500 feet tall. Gaudi designed the cathedral, and it was essentially all he worked on in the final years leading to his death.
Before building the cathedral, Parc Guell is a collection of Gaudi silliness that makes you feel a bit as though you're traveling through CandyLand. It's a large park on a hill in the northern part of the city that has a view of the city and the sea, and contains many nature-inspired installments including a long "wave" of rock (imagine the view of a surfer riding inside a tube of a wave), intricate houses and other architectural indulgences.
We went from there to a supermarket for 0.79Eur bottles of wine, and then to the apartment of some of the other students a bit farther from the city near the beach. We opened the bottles, spent some time sitting on the beach (and freezing, it gets cold at night especially on the water), before heading back to make some dinner.
Around this time Scott, our final roommate, finally arrived. He had a tumultuous trek from Rome completing his 3-week European adventure and slept for about the next 16 hours.
On Tuesday we finally had orientation, which basically consisted of a 1-hour conversation followed by a 2-hour lunch. The directors gave us a handout including lots of tips on making the most of time in Barcelona, in addition to our cell phones. Turns out classes are going to only be on Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday, and all after 1pm. Not too shabby. I'm taking Spanish for 3 hours twice a week, in addition to Modern Art and Architecture in Spain and International Economics. The classes are only with the kids on our program, so they range in size from 3 to 10 students. The Econ class is being taught at a local university (as opposed to the International House, where the ALBA classroom is), so that should be interesting.
With all that free time, we're already starting to think about travel. My roommate, David, and I are considering a Moroccan adventure for next weekend, with roundtrip flights around 90Eur. Should be quite a trip.
Sunday, April 8, 2007
Dónde está la lavandería?
I awoke Friday morning (at 11:30am) to a phone call from Tracy, one of the co-directors of the program, making sure that I was around so that I could let David, my roommate, in when he got here. Good thing she called ten minutes before he arrived, otherwise, who knows, I may have actually been out of the apartment. Orientation was pushed back until Tuesday, so we're all cellphone-less until then, but alas, I was home, and David arrived.
He had just taken a train in from Southern France, where he had been traveling for about a week, and hadn't slept much on the train. He pushed though however, and we left together for our day of exploration.
The reason that orientation was pushed back (and the reason the program is starting a week later than Stanford) is that Spaniards take their Easter seriously. Walking around on (Good) Friday, nearly everything in our residential neighborhood was closed. This posed a problem, seeing as we had yet to buy food for our apartment and hadn't eaten in about 12 hours. So we walked to the touristy areas, got some food, and then, well, kept walking.
We walked for about four hours total, seeing the city from above on Mont Juic (actually "Mountain of the Jews") and walking through much of Beli Goti (Gothic Neighborhood) and some of the other older sections of town. Old Barcelona is a circle of narrow, European streets and alleys and tons of cool bars, restaurants, and, you guessed it, cathedrals that seem to pop up all around. Outside of the old city, including where we live, feels much more modern with grid-based streets, apartment buildings that are all remarkably the same height (about 7 stories), and four grocery stores per block.
It's an easy city to navigate, and with the exception of my one Metro snafu on Thursday night, I've been able to get around the city on foot very easily. With two more days of this long Easter weekend in which everything is closed, we may need to become more creative in how we spend our time, but with each moment I feel more and more comfortable with the city.
He had just taken a train in from Southern France, where he had been traveling for about a week, and hadn't slept much on the train. He pushed though however, and we left together for our day of exploration.
The reason that orientation was pushed back (and the reason the program is starting a week later than Stanford) is that Spaniards take their Easter seriously. Walking around on (Good) Friday, nearly everything in our residential neighborhood was closed. This posed a problem, seeing as we had yet to buy food for our apartment and hadn't eaten in about 12 hours. So we walked to the touristy areas, got some food, and then, well, kept walking.
We walked for about four hours total, seeing the city from above on Mont Juic (actually "Mountain of the Jews") and walking through much of Beli Goti (Gothic Neighborhood) and some of the other older sections of town. Old Barcelona is a circle of narrow, European streets and alleys and tons of cool bars, restaurants, and, you guessed it, cathedrals that seem to pop up all around. Outside of the old city, including where we live, feels much more modern with grid-based streets, apartment buildings that are all remarkably the same height (about 7 stories), and four grocery stores per block.
It's an easy city to navigate, and with the exception of my one Metro snafu on Thursday night, I've been able to get around the city on foot very easily. With two more days of this long Easter weekend in which everything is closed, we may need to become more creative in how we spend our time, but with each moment I feel more and more comfortable with the city.
Saturday, April 7, 2007
The bilingual city
After all of the time spent in the Bologna Airport (including an extra two hours due to a bird having flown into the engine on the previous flight) MyAir flight 4510 actually left Italy and brought be to Barcelona. Felipe, the transfers guy, was there with a little sign for me, and drove me into town and to my new apartment.
This apartment (the third one they had picked for us after rejecting 1 & 2) is just north of the city center in a residential area. Felipe let me in, gave me the key, and then politely excused himself. It was at this point that I explored my new apartment, quickly finding 6 socks, 3 eggs, 1 pair of aviator sunglasses and a wet load of laundry in the washing machine. Apparently someone had "just moved out", and no one had taken the time to make sure they had completely moved out, but oh well. The apartment itself is nice, with four bedrooms (for three of us) of varying sizes, two bathrooms, a narrow kitchen stocked with cookware and dishes, blankets, sheets and towels all over the place. I wasn't so sure if the linens were clean, but hey, it was already 8pm, and I had other adventures to tend to.
Earlier, in my hours at the Bologna airport, I had made plans with Jenny to meet her, and her mom, sister, and sister's boyfriend at a Japanese restaurant called Shoko, on the Mediterranean. While it only would have been a 25-minute or so walk, I decided not to risk getting lost and take the well-reputed Barcelona Metro down to the area. So without a detailed map, I made my way to the nearest Metro stop, Arc d'Triumf. I bought a 10-trip, but had a bit of trouble figuring out exactly which platform I was supposed to go to.
Oh what the hell, I thought, and walked on the first train that arrived. It was really nice, with chairs for everyone, and felt much more like a train than a subway. Well, five minutes later at the next stop when I saw that we were quite far from Arc d'Triumf, I realized that this was indeed a commuter line, got off, walked across the platform, and went one stop back.
Try two. I found the L1 Metro platform (as opposed to the R4 regional one) and had to choose which direction to go. I was fairly confident I had chosen wisely, but to avoid another episode of going one stop in the wrong direction, I decided to ask, in broken Spanish, a group of guys on the subway what the next stop was. Before they could figure out what I was asking, the door closed, slamming me in the face, and setting the 16-year olds into a fit of laughter as the train sped off. Barcelona 2, Dan 0.
Fortunately subways come frequently, and by the time the next one came two minutes and 38 seconds later (the signs actually count down the seconds until the next train, pretty cool), I had assured myself I was going the right direction and got on. In true Zeehandelaar style (a theme?) I got to the restaurant minutes before the Caines did. And they took a taxi.
This apartment (the third one they had picked for us after rejecting 1 & 2) is just north of the city center in a residential area. Felipe let me in, gave me the key, and then politely excused himself. It was at this point that I explored my new apartment, quickly finding 6 socks, 3 eggs, 1 pair of aviator sunglasses and a wet load of laundry in the washing machine. Apparently someone had "just moved out", and no one had taken the time to make sure they had completely moved out, but oh well. The apartment itself is nice, with four bedrooms (for three of us) of varying sizes, two bathrooms, a narrow kitchen stocked with cookware and dishes, blankets, sheets and towels all over the place. I wasn't so sure if the linens were clean, but hey, it was already 8pm, and I had other adventures to tend to.
Earlier, in my hours at the Bologna airport, I had made plans with Jenny to meet her, and her mom, sister, and sister's boyfriend at a Japanese restaurant called Shoko, on the Mediterranean. While it only would have been a 25-minute or so walk, I decided not to risk getting lost and take the well-reputed Barcelona Metro down to the area. So without a detailed map, I made my way to the nearest Metro stop, Arc d'Triumf. I bought a 10-trip, but had a bit of trouble figuring out exactly which platform I was supposed to go to.
Oh what the hell, I thought, and walked on the first train that arrived. It was really nice, with chairs for everyone, and felt much more like a train than a subway. Well, five minutes later at the next stop when I saw that we were quite far from Arc d'Triumf, I realized that this was indeed a commuter line, got off, walked across the platform, and went one stop back.
Try two. I found the L1 Metro platform (as opposed to the R4 regional one) and had to choose which direction to go. I was fairly confident I had chosen wisely, but to avoid another episode of going one stop in the wrong direction, I decided to ask, in broken Spanish, a group of guys on the subway what the next stop was. Before they could figure out what I was asking, the door closed, slamming me in the face, and setting the 16-year olds into a fit of laughter as the train sped off. Barcelona 2, Dan 0.
Fortunately subways come frequently, and by the time the next one came two minutes and 38 seconds later (the signs actually count down the seconds until the next train, pretty cool), I had assured myself I was going the right direction and got on. In true Zeehandelaar style (a theme?) I got to the restaurant minutes before the Caines did. And they took a taxi.
Thursday, April 5, 2007
Scuzzi, mi scuzzi!
It was on the train to Bologna where I had my first real EuroTrip moment. I'm in this little cabin with 6 seats, flanked by four older Germans who were in for the long haul overnight to Munchen. Our communication was less than passable, but we smiled and said "oy" when I put up my heavy suitcase and they were very impressed with my iPod shuffle that fits in my mouth. The best part, however, was when the 70-year old German man to my left decided it was time to fall asleep and rest his head on my shoulder. That, combined with a 40-minute delay on a 1-hour train made the trip interesting, but hey, I'm in Europe. Take a rest, and sleep on your neighbor.
It was great seeing Jess, my long lost wife who I hadn't seen since the past summer. She's having a great time in Bologna (a total college town: 100,000 students out of 400,000 residents) and living with three Italians in a nice flat.
She and I went around the markets and bought supplies for our impromptu Passover Seder, which she was hosting in her apartment for us and three of her friends. We then spent the afternoon cooking: beef goulash, tsimmes, stewed artichokes, charosis, hard boiled eggs, salt water, the works. Her friends brought the wine (6 bottles for the 5 of us), and we got started around 7pm. Jess compiled her own Haggadah, which was mostly a compilation of a basic family Haggadah and the Zeehandelaar family Haggadah. She also wrote a fantastic dramatic reading-style rendition of the story of the exodus which we performed with joy. I'll post the Haggadah in a few days when she sends me the PDF.
Needless to say, 4+ cups of wine (plus Elijah's, which I sneaked while the goyish guests opened the front door) we were quite spent, and ended up not leaving the apartment but rather watching YouTube videos that they hadn't seen since they havent been in the states. (Search "Kelly Shoes", "Tony vs Paul", and "Box in a Box" into youtube search).
Over the next couple of days, I was able to to again see most of Bologna, which is also a pretty walkable city. Main highlights are the central Piazza, with two towers (one leans, one you can climb), plus the university area and a few museums. It was my first time walking around a city alone where I didn't know the language (while Jess was in class), and while interesting, I found myself looking for everyone who looked American. I guess its not so easy to feel comfortable in a foreign city.
My time in Bologna was competed with two adventures. Last night, we were all planning (as in about 8 of Jess's friends from the program) to go to this huge gay club which apparently has quite the party on Wednesdays. The only problem is that you need a "Tessaro" to get in, basically a club membership, which can only be purchased one of two ways: either at this club, with the caveat that it can't be used for 24 hours, or at the sibling club completely on the other side of the city that could be used that night. Begging in Italian as she may, Jess could not convince the people to sell her a pass that would let her in immediately, so we schlepped across the entire city to buy this stupid pass. We made good time, and buses worked well, so we were back at the club by the time the others arrived at around 12:30am. It was truly quite the party, very European (i suppose?) and left around 3am for our 40-minute walk home. Quite an adventure.
The other slight obstacle to my plans came today, when I arrived at the airport at 9am for my 11am flight. MyAir, it seems, decided to reschedule the flight for 4pm, yet decided that it needn't notify the 150 people taking the flight. However, in true Zeehandelaar fashion, when life gave me lemons, I paid 20Eur to sit in the club with free snacks, couches, internet, and relative peace from the rest of the angsty travelers. So I've been able to pass the time fairly easily, catching up with the late owls in California (-9 hours) and even one friend in Beijing. Not to mention writing this blog post.
Italy, it seems, is a place that has its ways. People only drink coffee in espresso shots, and certain ways at certain times of the day. People dress to show their class, and therefore dress well. But it's a classy place, and if I spoke Italian I would probably find this a nice place to be. I'm very ready, though, to get on this damned plane to Spain.
It was great seeing Jess, my long lost wife who I hadn't seen since the past summer. She's having a great time in Bologna (a total college town: 100,000 students out of 400,000 residents) and living with three Italians in a nice flat.
She and I went around the markets and bought supplies for our impromptu Passover Seder, which she was hosting in her apartment for us and three of her friends. We then spent the afternoon cooking: beef goulash, tsimmes, stewed artichokes, charosis, hard boiled eggs, salt water, the works. Her friends brought the wine (6 bottles for the 5 of us), and we got started around 7pm. Jess compiled her own Haggadah, which was mostly a compilation of a basic family Haggadah and the Zeehandelaar family Haggadah. She also wrote a fantastic dramatic reading-style rendition of the story of the exodus which we performed with joy. I'll post the Haggadah in a few days when she sends me the PDF.
Needless to say, 4+ cups of wine (plus Elijah's, which I sneaked while the goyish guests opened the front door) we were quite spent, and ended up not leaving the apartment but rather watching YouTube videos that they hadn't seen since they havent been in the states. (Search "Kelly Shoes", "Tony vs Paul", and "Box in a Box" into youtube search).
Over the next couple of days, I was able to to again see most of Bologna, which is also a pretty walkable city. Main highlights are the central Piazza, with two towers (one leans, one you can climb), plus the university area and a few museums. It was my first time walking around a city alone where I didn't know the language (while Jess was in class), and while interesting, I found myself looking for everyone who looked American. I guess its not so easy to feel comfortable in a foreign city.
My time in Bologna was competed with two adventures. Last night, we were all planning (as in about 8 of Jess's friends from the program) to go to this huge gay club which apparently has quite the party on Wednesdays. The only problem is that you need a "Tessaro" to get in, basically a club membership, which can only be purchased one of two ways: either at this club, with the caveat that it can't be used for 24 hours, or at the sibling club completely on the other side of the city that could be used that night. Begging in Italian as she may, Jess could not convince the people to sell her a pass that would let her in immediately, so we schlepped across the entire city to buy this stupid pass. We made good time, and buses worked well, so we were back at the club by the time the others arrived at around 12:30am. It was truly quite the party, very European (i suppose?) and left around 3am for our 40-minute walk home. Quite an adventure.
The other slight obstacle to my plans came today, when I arrived at the airport at 9am for my 11am flight. MyAir, it seems, decided to reschedule the flight for 4pm, yet decided that it needn't notify the 150 people taking the flight. However, in true Zeehandelaar fashion, when life gave me lemons, I paid 20Eur to sit in the club with free snacks, couches, internet, and relative peace from the rest of the angsty travelers. So I've been able to pass the time fairly easily, catching up with the late owls in California (-9 hours) and even one friend in Beijing. Not to mention writing this blog post.
Italy, it seems, is a place that has its ways. People only drink coffee in espresso shots, and certain ways at certain times of the day. People dress to show their class, and therefore dress well. But it's a classy place, and if I spoke Italian I would probably find this a nice place to be. I'm very ready, though, to get on this damned plane to Spain.
Monday, April 2, 2007
Ciao, bella!
In London, everyone speaks English. Much to my surprise, however, everyone in Florence does as well. No, not because they learn it in school, not because they want to sell things, but because they are American. Florence was overrun with tourists, and at times it appeared as though no one in sight was actually Italian.
There's good reason for this, as Florence is an interesting city. Basically the only location in which the entire Renaissance took place, the art here is quite something. I spent the weekend getting to know the small city, where streets are roughly wide enough for two Smart Cars, and the whole city is only a 30-minute walk. Mallory was nice enough to show me around, and I got to see everything with the benefit of a seasoned Florentine.
The David, by Michelangelo, does not disappoint. It is situated in what is essentially its own museum (the Academia) that costs as much as the other art museum containing everything else, but is very impressive. They have a 3-d visualization of the statue done by Stanford, so we spurt of pride 5,000 miles from our alma mater.
I met two guys in my hostel from BU who ended up knowing Jonah from camp. We ended up hanging out a bit, and went out together to some bars on Saturday night.
Sunday was more walking, including the gardens of the Medici family. If you didn't know, the Medici family essentially owned Florence (and most of Italy and the Vatican) from about 1400-1700. They became Popes, commissioned tons of art (including a lot of the Renaissance), and were, understandably, bankers. For that reason, they also had a (mostly) favorable relationship with the Jews, who naturally had a Jewish quarter and seemed to function for the most part well in Florence. We checked out the synagogue, as well, which was quite beautiful. There, of course, I ran into a middle-aged Jewish couple from Westchester who were just thrilled that I was bringing my shiksa friend to the Jewish museum.
Overall, I felt like Florence was a pretty manageable and easily navigable city where basically anyone you interact with with speak English. After dinner, it was off to the train station for the late night train to Bologna.
There's good reason for this, as Florence is an interesting city. Basically the only location in which the entire Renaissance took place, the art here is quite something. I spent the weekend getting to know the small city, where streets are roughly wide enough for two Smart Cars, and the whole city is only a 30-minute walk. Mallory was nice enough to show me around, and I got to see everything with the benefit of a seasoned Florentine.
The David, by Michelangelo, does not disappoint. It is situated in what is essentially its own museum (the Academia) that costs as much as the other art museum containing everything else, but is very impressive. They have a 3-d visualization of the statue done by Stanford, so we spurt of pride 5,000 miles from our alma mater.
I met two guys in my hostel from BU who ended up knowing Jonah from camp. We ended up hanging out a bit, and went out together to some bars on Saturday night.
Sunday was more walking, including the gardens of the Medici family. If you didn't know, the Medici family essentially owned Florence (and most of Italy and the Vatican) from about 1400-1700. They became Popes, commissioned tons of art (including a lot of the Renaissance), and were, understandably, bankers. For that reason, they also had a (mostly) favorable relationship with the Jews, who naturally had a Jewish quarter and seemed to function for the most part well in Florence. We checked out the synagogue, as well, which was quite beautiful. There, of course, I ran into a middle-aged Jewish couple from Westchester who were just thrilled that I was bringing my shiksa friend to the Jewish museum.
Overall, I felt like Florence was a pretty manageable and easily navigable city where basically anyone you interact with with speak English. After dinner, it was off to the train station for the late night train to Bologna.
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