How to not eat Italian food in Italy

I know the title and general content of this post maybe be highly offensive to some of you. I apologize. But if you know me well, it shouldn't actually surprise you.

A number of people who care about my general well being were concerned about what I would eat during my time in Italy because I don't like Italian food.

That's right. I said it.

I've recently come to realize that this stems from more than a "I don't like the way it tastes" reason. Although that is a big part of it.

I think (I haven't paid money to confirm this, but everything indicates that it is true) I am allergic to garlic. Not in a "I get hives way" but in a "my stomach is really really upset way." This is sad for me because I really like garlic in foods, but the way it smells when someone cooks with it instantly gives me a headache and makes me feel so sick. After eating it my stomach is really acidic. I've also noticed a similar, but less drastic, thing happens when I eat tomatoes. This doesn't mean I don't eat these two things; I just try not to eat them often.

Before I came, I marked on my application to live here that I was allergic to garlic, so I hoped my family would be slightly prepared. I was worried that I wouldn't like any of the food anyone cooked and would both really offend my family and be really hungry.

That, however, is not the case. When I was first talking to my family about what I eat, the dad told me he didn't like garlic, so they never cook with it. Hallelujah.

We also eat a very moderate amount of pasta. I have eaten noodle dishes only a few times so far. A few times with olive oil, salt and tuna. Easy and good. Once was with a buttery, cheesy sauce with ham. Once was pesto (didn't like it) and once was with just tomatoes and salt.

We don't eat much Americanized Italian food. We do eat actual Italian food.

So you see what a typical diet is like, I'll provide you an outline of a normal day. This could be very different from other Italian families, but this is what's normal with mine.

Breakfast (Colazione):

Tea and Breakfast Cookies and/or crackers with jam.

There is a little silver tin that has chocolate chip and shortbread breakfast cookies. I call them breakfast cookies to make myself feel better when I eat them. Like somehow the word "breakfast" adds nutritional value.

They also have cracker things with jam and Nutella. Yum!

It just sits there. Right at eye level. Taunting me. 

Mid cookie binge. Yuuummm

Italians manage to eat this way for breakfast every day and not get fat. It's impressive. But they really only have a few every day. This is probably healthier than my cookie benders. (I don't eat the cookies for several days because, sugar and carbs and what not. But then, I have a break down and eat more than several in a day. Don't judge me.)

Lunch (Pranzo):

For lunch I eat whatever meats and cheeses are around. Maybe throw in a salad, omelet, fruit or whatever I can find.

The two kids come home around two and eat lunch then (because in high school, YOU DON'T GET A LUNCH BREAK. I cannot imagine teaching students who hadn't eaten lunch nor teaching without eating lunch!!)

They usually make some simple pasta dish.


Tea:

I drink tea with breakfast and then usually when the kids get home from school and then at night before bed with the family. Basically I am English.

The tea/mug cabinet. This isn't even all the tea they have!

Dinner (Cena):

Dinner, much to my stomach's chagrin, starts at the earliest 7:30 but usually around 8 or 8:30. And for someone who usually eats dinner at 5, it's a long stretch.

My Italian mom Vanda does almost all the cooking. She also works a full time job, so her life is full. She keeps cooking simple but very good. She can usually put together a great dinner in 30 minutes. It's pretty impressive.

Bread. Lots of bread. Regardless of what else is being served, slices of bread get thrown on the table along with rice crackers. I try not to eat the bread because I eat enough carbs during the rest of dinner. But it's hard when the bread just stares at you, with it's delicious looking..... bread eyes?? Okay that personification got weird. But the point is, it's difficult to resist.


Some sort of meat: This is pretty "normal" fish, chicken or beef. Cooked with a few basic seasonings or lightly fried or whatever.

Veggies: I have noticed a lot more artichokes used in Italy. I like them, but I only really ever ate them in spinach and artichoke dip, so it's a bit of a new flavor for me. Sometimes the veggies are green beans, olives, or zucchini, often there's a salad (always with balsamic vinegar and oil).

Leftovers: Leftovers from previous meals are almost always on the table and usually pawned onto Nico. 19 year old boys in every country seem to have bottomless stomachs.

They have fruit in a giant bowl in the kitchen that's up for grabs whenever.

Meats and Cheese: Usually at some point after the main meats and veggies have been eaten, meats and/or cheeses are brought out.
They always have a healthy stock of different types of ham and Italian sausage on hand. Not the spicy sausage you can get on pizza, but it's more akin to summer sausage. It's delicious, and it takes all my self control not to eat all of it in a day.

They also have quite a bit of different types of cheese. I've found I like nearly all the cheese they have, including blue cheese in limited quantities, but brie is my favorite. I also like goat cheese quite a bit.

The meats and cheeses are use to polish off what's left of the bread or crackers on the table.

This is an illustration of the top 3/4 of the fridge, so you can see what it looks like.

The asterisk marks the spot where the sausage would be if I didn't eat the rest of it yesterday...
At any given time I would guess we have at least 5 to 6 types of cheeses.

Beverages: The parents and I usually have a glass of wine with dinner and then move to water. They all drink "acqua frizzante" (sparkling water) while I drink tap water. They have a delivery service that brings them crates of sparkling water and "milk" (I use the quotes because this milk doesn't have to be refrigerated and I think has a lot of sugar added because it's very sweet. The lack of normal milk is my greatest lamentation.)

The thing on the right is full of wine. The orange-topped white bottles are "milk," and the boxes next to them are the boxed wine use for cooking.

They get this much water delivered every week. The two stacks on the far left are full and the two on the right are empty. 

Another typically main course is rice. Each region in Italy is apparently known for their specific rice dish. Though they usually appear varying shades of unappealing gray and brown, they are quite good.

What I've noticed most about eating is that it's very balanced. All the main food groups are presented in reasonable moderation. Maybe once or twice a week pudding or a pie appears. It seems to be very much about "a bit of everything in moderation."

Here is a sample dinner: Last night we had Polenta with some kind of beef. Polenta is basically what tortilla chips are before it's dried. If you've ever been to Jose Peppers, it's exactly what Masa is without the sugar.

Polenta was eaten a lot by poor people because it fills you up. We ate it the same way my family might eat mashed potatoes. There was stewed beef on top and broth.

Polenta

I should have been an art major.

You have paint to thank for my masterpieces. 

So you can see that I do eat. I even eat Italian food. It's just not probably what you think of when you think of Italian food.

My Heart Belongs to Venice

I am in love. Head over heels (this expression has never made sense to me. Isn't my head always over my feet??) with my new favorite city (except, of course, Manhattan. But my love for them is in every way different)

Venice.

It was love at first site. Like a girl always dreams about... well okay. Girls usually imagine the object of their love being person... that's just a small detail. Even as I was making my way to the hostel (with only my small suitcase), I knew a love affair was brewing. This post probably reads like a person utterly captivated with its subject. I know there is no way I can properly describe everything that I love about this city, but bear with me as I try. I am no expert on Venice; I was only there for a few days. But this has been my honest experience there.

I went to Venice with no expectations. I read a lot about exploring Venice "off the beaten path," which is definitely something you need to do, but I'll get to that in a minute. What I read about Venice seemed to scorn the tourist area from the train station through San Marco and Rialto, but this area, to me, was just as splendid and beautiful as anything off the main tourist track.

The touristy main throughfare is Venice performing, and she performs as well as the best and biggest of cities. To fully experience a city you have to see her perform and see behind the scenes. The "big" streets have spent centuries becoming the attractions they are today, refining their crafts and enticements specifically for you. Venice is waiting to court you. All you have to do is let her; wander the streets to take in the beautifully choreographed display of sights, sounds, smells and tastes.

Walking through the main track is an onslaught to the sense in the most spectacular way. Many city exist to, and have their appeal due to what is inside the buildings. Venice is wholly enticing inside and out. The buildings are a stunning mix of weather-beaten, crumbing stucco revealing the brick beneath and newly, brightly painted façades. All the while, the glitz and glitter reflecting off the millions of carnival masks, key chains and shiny nick-knacks give the streets sides a glowing, carousing ambiance. The sticky, sweet gelato and dessert beg unceasingly until you give in or it fades to the subtle leather wafting off the hand bags or best of all, transforms into the smell of the salty sea that permeates most of the streets while the gentle lapping of the water soothes you amid the hustle of the city.  Until the gondola driver interrupts, calling to you, "Gondola, gondola, gondola" or, if you're lucky enough, singing as they pass through the canal underneath the bridge.

Even the most touristy of areas have a way of making you feel that you have discovered something special. The cramped, quaint streets, especially the covered, dimly lit ones, make everything feel intensely personal. I felt, from the moment I stepped onto the pavement, that I was not merely a visitor, but an integral part of a dazzling community. A show isn't complete without its audience. You are, at all times, in the heart of Venice.

If you don't walk through Venice during the middle of the day in the busiest areas, you are doing her a disservice. You must allow her to flash her colors and show off fully for you, so you can appreciate the performance and contrast it with the times when she isn't performing.

The true Venice, underneath the mask is equally incredible. I have never been to a city where I could take two turns off the main road and be faced with the unparalleled  beauty of complete and utter silence. There are no cars in Venice, so one or two rows of tightly packed building are enough to block out any other sound. It's exquisite. It is Venice laid bare before you. Open and unreserved.

It's this part of the city that will show you a dad and his son in Elmo boots walking to school beneath some strangers' underwear and socks dangling from the line above and window boxes decorated with flowers, Murano glass and broken bottles. This part of the city shows you that there's more here than a carnival. It has its functionality; its soccer moms and business men racing through their busy days. In its streets, children race on their scooters and mark their growth on the fragmented bricks and stucco. It also has an abundance of old Italian women who will not hesitate to shove you out of their way with impressive strength.

What struck me most about Venice was that the part of the city that wasn't showing off for tourists was just as pretty. Or perhaps it was alluring. It left me hungry for more. I wanted to see what was just around the corner, or where that alley lead. In Chicago or even Paris, I saw a shady alley and hopped I would never have the misfortune of going down it. Venice sparked my curiosity to explore every nook and cranny. Too see everything the city had to offer.

The number one thing you need to have in Venice is patience. If you spend your time rushing to and fro, making sure you're following the right course on your map (which you won't be any way, just accept it) you will miss so much of the city. Walking from place to place is what most of Venice is about. It's the fulfillment of the adage "its about the journey, not the destination." Walk through the city slowly, absorb every detail. Stop often and drink wine, eat ice cream and eat dessert (calories don't count on vacation. especially in desserts and never ever in liquids). If you don't meander slowly down the alleys, getting lost while eating or drinking something, you're doing Venice wrong.

I was almost equally enthralled by the islands to the north of Venice, particularly Murano and Burano. Murano has the exact same feel as Venice with beautiful hand-made glass taking the place of the carnival masks. Murano so effectively capture my interest that I bought a ring and more than a few bracelets and gifts. And also some earrings. All of the glass work is stunning; the colors and glitter melted together form exception jewelry, plates, silverware, sculptures.

Burano has a different feel. While Venice and Murano feel more like cities that happen to be inundated with water, Burano feels like an island and a tropical one at that. The buildings are all freshly painted with fantastic colors like lime green, pink, lavender, yellow. Burano is historically famous for its lace making, and though I really wanted one, the impracticality of a lace umbrella stopped me from buying anything.

I could go on and on forever if I tried. Venice has been such an incredible four days. In some ways, the time has gone slowly, but in many ways it has flown by. My heart is aching at the prospect of leaving, but my bank account can't leave quickly enough. I have a feeling this will be far from my last trip to this incredible place.

 The rest of my pictures are already uploaded photos to two separate site, Facebook and Google +. If you are on Facebook, look there. If you are not, click here to Google +.

Ciao!

It's Not My Fault All 3 Maps Are Wrong

Buon Giorno (Just learned that was two words, not one)

I was planning on including the following list in another blog post that was somehow going to materialize but didn't. Now it's getting a little long to work into something else so I will just post this along with a quick update of what I'm doing.

I set off Thursday for Venice by myself. It actually only takes two hours to reach Venice from Milan by train.
The only hiccup I had traveling was that the father in my family kindly drove me to the outskirts of Milan so it would be easier for me to get to the train station. He dropped me off at a metro, and I knew I could read the map and figure it out. The only problem was I had no idea where I was on the map to know where I started. This is how helpful my map apps were:

Google said I was in the spot where the blue dot was. It ended up being mostly right.

Apple, however, felt I was over here... Go home, Apple Maps. You're drunk. 

I sat across from an English-speaking couple on the train. I realized after I got off the train and said goodbye that I didn't ask for their names, but they were really interesting. The girl was from Montreal and the guy was from Romania, and they both worked on a uber nice cruise ship. We traded stories, they had some pretty crazy ones and then went on our way.
Finding anything specific in Venice is a nightmare. My hostel was particularly difficult. I got myself to the intersection where it was supposed to be, but I didn't see anything and the streets weren't labeled so I couldn't figure out what was going on. I went into a bar to ask if thy knew where it was. They said they'd never heard of it, so I showed them the address. It was literally 20 feet from their door. That's how vast, tiny, confusing, and jam-packed Venice is.
It didn't help that this was the only sign for the hostel:

 

And when I actually rang the bell, nothing happened for about 5 minutes. I thought maybe the place didn't really exist. Turns out the lady just wasn't at the desk.

Thus far I have spent most of my time walking around Venice, seeing various sites and taking pictures. Last night I roomed with a girl from Oregon and we went to dinner and chatted with this old (and slightly racists... or perhaps xenophobic) English couple. It was an interesting experience to say the least. The girl from Oregon left and now I'm rooming with a girl from Korea and tomorrow we might go explore some island slightly north of Venice known for glass blowing and lace making.

I've already started my next post, and I swear it's filled with more interesting descriptions.

And here's a really random list of observations

Things I've learned:

• Sometimes three maps can all say something different and can all be wrong. This has happened to me once in Milano and like ever other minute in Venice. Google will tell me I'm in one location, with a set of streets in front of me. Apple Maps will tell me I am someplace else and that there are different streets. And the hard-copy map will give me a third set of details. I usually default to assume some combination of Google and the hard-copy map is correct. 
• Sometimes in Venice your map will say a street is called something like "Tratturri" but the street is labeled "Tretture" and I assume that they're different versions of the same thing. Sometimes this is true, sometimes it's not.
• When you take your dog for a walk and it poops in the grass and you don't pick it up, it's moderately rude and a gross. When you take your dog for a walk in the city and it poops on the sidewalk and you don't pick it up, it's disgusting and you shouldn't be allowed to have a dog. 
• When you would pay someone almost any sum of money for a dry pair of socks, no one has them. When your feet are snug and warm, there are like 4 guys selling them on street. 
• Beige in Johnson County= White in Paris= Yellow in Milano. (Everyone says Johnson County is paint all tan--this is true. they literally make you paint your house an approved shade of brown--Everything is Paris is painted white with black wrought iron. Everything in Milano that isn't make of stone is some shade of yellow or maybe peachy orange)
• I cannot consider any country that does not have Netflix true civilization. Sorry Italy, I love you, but up your game. And don't even get me started on Hulu.
• I am again thankful I speak English because watching dubbed movies drives me insane. And Harry Potter has a weird, high-pitched voice in Italian. 
• There are about 10 Taco Bells in all of Europe and they're only in England and Spain. This is simultaneously the best and worst thing. If you've ever eaten Taco Bell, you know why. If you've never eaten Taco Bell... your stomach is a happy place, but your taste buds are not. 
• If you don't have to refrigerate it, I cannot, in good faith consider it actual milk.
• Paris is a lot bigger than you would guess from the maps. What seems like "a few blocks" might actually be a 30 min walk. Venice is a lot smaller than it seems on the map. I would walk 5 minutes in the wrong direction and be halfway across the map.  
• The "words most impressive collection of the works of Leonardo Da Vinci" isn't that impressive. It's not bad, but it's only got about 20 pieces and one of them is literally an ink stain.

I'm adding a new section called: Things Krayton Cannot Operate in Europe. It's embarrassing.

• Doors (in public places): Okay. There are two contributing factors here: 1) There are so many tourists, places want you to either buy something or pay to go to the bathroom. Sometimes they give you a little key or a coin to use if you've bought something. 2) About half the doors here slide because the small restaurants don't have room for a swinging door. These two things mean I occasionally am caught pushing and pulling at a door that actually slides or is locked until either I figure it out or some native opens the door for me. When someone has to open a door for me I feel unending shame. It's worse because no even give me that "you stupid tourist" look they give me a really concerned "who let this intellectually disabled girl out all alone?" look
• Locks: I've figure out most of the locks in this house... except the front door. I can open all the doors and windows (not a huge feat, but they are all slightly different from each other so it took me a few tries to get them all down.) However this stupid front door has two locking parts. One is a normal "turn til in unlocks" type. The other appears to be some sort of sliding mechanism. I've tried every combination to get it open, and I just can't. The only time I ever try to use the front door is to let the dog out. So I always end up letting her out through the side window/door. But she is terrified of if for whatever reason, so it's a struggle. She looks at me like a mad man. "You want me to go out of THAT door??? No way." So I shove her out. Nicely of course. 
• The TV: Instead of just turning on the TV and cable box like normal, there is all kinds of voodoo magic involved in making this TV function. I can get the TV itself to turn on and the cable box to turn on (not an easy feat) but I cannot get the cable box to show up on the TV. What kind of self-respecting American can't get the TV to work? It's like our job. Whatever. 

To redeem myself in your eyes I will tell you that I can successfully operate anything that's not on that list (as far as I know) including the weirdly complicated toilets that are different everywhere. I am also in the middle of successfully navigating Venice. This city actually makes no sense and Google is often times wrong. (<< I never thought I would say that ever.)

Ciao

I am the Family Dog

I am the family dog.

After a period of reflection at dinnertime, while the family was chatting, I came to the conclusion that I basically am the family dog. Except, they already have a dog. So… I’m like the back up one. Or something.

This is Gypsy. Yes, she's licking my face. Yes, it's gross.
But she just kind jumps on you before you know what's happening

The following is how I have come to this conclusion. I’m not upset by it, but once you examine the facts you will see how I reached it.

When I showed up on Sunday, I understood about 0% of the conversation at the table. This wasn't surprising because I only know very few words. Now, nearly a week later, I’m up to maybe 5-10% of the conversation. Especially if the conversation revolves around food because I’ve been brushing up on my food words.

So I was sitting there, watching them eat cow intestines, (I didn’t have the stomach for that one…) while I ate soup and sausage when it occurred to me, I’m actually picking up on some of the stuff they are saying. I can recognize a few key words in the conversation, combine that with their tone and I can make a guess about what they’re talking about.

I was feeling pretty good about myself. I am learning words steadily and reading tone… just like…

just like.....

...Just like a dog does.

This is almost exactly what happens when you get a puppy. They do not understand what you are saying. But they learn.

In general, dogs know a few key words that pertain to their life: Their name, walk, leash, go, treat, etc… and the rest of the time they guess what’s happening based on how you’re talking.

I know a few key words: My name, wine, sweets, dinner, to eat, fork, “how do you say…?” and the rest I pick up from cognates and tone.

I had an English professor say that, if dogs were able to read, they would be the best readers of tone ever and would never miss when an author was being sarcastic/ironic.

When I can’t read the tone or someone’s speaking too quickly for me to distinguish many words (like when the Italian lady who lives next door yells at me from her window), I even do the human version of the dog’s confused look.

Dog:

This dog does not know what you are saying.

Krayton:

This girl does not know what you are saying. 

Anyway. I am working on the learning Italian part of living in Italy. I’m getting better and I’ve gotten some apps and things to help me learn. Also the point of this experience is for the family to talk to me in English and learn so they are definitely getting a lot of practice doing that!

And I’m not suggesting the family doesn’t speak to me or only speak in Italian. They do a decent amount of translating, but there are times when the conversation is moving rapidly or not relevant to me, and they don’t bother.

Hopefully, I can soon report my language levels have progressed passed the level of the dog Gypsy. Until then, we’re in it together. And at least I'm not the cat. (The cat lives outside.)

Ciao! 

"Scam Artists, Creepers and Lovers, Oh My"

I have conquered two days in Italy. I wasn’t sure I was going to survive my first trips to or in Milano, but somehow I managed. The following recounts my misadventures on Sunday and Monday. Fortunately I can laugh about all of it. Except for the man with red teeth. That will never be funny. But I’ll get to that.

Turate. A cute little town North of Milan. 

I arrived in Milan bright and early (6 am) Sunday morning after taking a train from Paris. The train was an interesting experience, not ideal but it was better than flying (and so much cheaper.) Getting to the station was the worst part. I have two suitcases, one is carry-on sized and the other is massive. I believe I mentioned in my other post that the wheel broke on it. And this time I didn’t have someone else to pawn my luggage on. I thought I was prepared. I am physically capable of moving and lifting the suitcase even though it’s difficult.

I was only a few steps out when someone didn’t get out of my way (sorry, I can only move this giant suitcase on a tiny sidewalk so far), and I ran over her toes. I wasn’t prepared for was how sore my forearms would be from rock climbing the day before. It was hard to grip my suitcase, let alone move it anywhere. What was already going to be a difficult task was turning impossible.

Toes run over: 2

            I stood at the top of the menacing stairs down to the subway and some nice guy offered to carry my heavy bag down the steps. I let him do so because I knew it would be almost physically impossible for him to run off with it. After getting through the turnstyle, I set off down two more flights of stairs. Then, I had to switch stations which meant I had to walk down even more stairs. And the only thing I could think was that I might never get back up all these steps. This just isn’t going to happen. But I got on the next train and prayed for the best.

Toes run over: 4

On the  next subway one boy looked geniunely frightened of how big my bag was. It could have been because he was standing next to it and was afraid it would topple and  crush him any moment.  It was heavier than him. I got off at the train station and almost cried. Escalators. The greatest gift straight from Jesus himself. (That’s probably blastphemous, so if it’s not the very best, it’s definitely up there.) If I wasn’t already so tired I might have done a celebratory dance.

I managed to get on the train and the guys I shared a compartment with were pros at packing luggage into the room. I settled into my bed and ate my yogurt. (I had asked for an apple at the store and even repeatedly said “pomme” but they still gave me pinapple yogurt.) I was exhausted from lugging that bag around for about 2 hours and fell straight asleep.

Final toe count: +6

The train was nicer than an airplane because I actually could lay down and fall asleep, but it was at least 85 degrees and we couldn’t get the heater to turn off. I also kept waking myself up because I wasn’t sure if anyone would wake me up in Milan or not. Not to mention the fact that I was concerned the security guard took my passport on the train. He took everyone’s and they didn’t seem too worried. So I figured I would get it back.  (I did, but he didn’t stamp it :( )

I met the father of the family I am living with at the station, and he took me home to Turate and showed me the house. This house rocks. I was going to consider myself lucky if I had a room to myself with a dresser. I most certainly do.

I also have a living room, kitchen and bathroom all to myself. It is awesome.

The family I live with is very very nice. From what they’ve said, they are a typically middle-class, northern Italian family. And they all speak English to some degree. The dad and the son, who is 19, are fluent. The mom and the daughter, who is 16, speak and understand the basics. They spend their days at work or at school, so I have the days to entertain myself.

Palazzo

Monday, I ventured into Milan, and it was a wholly an interesting, weird experience. Turate is a small town. There is a train station here, but my family told me taking the one in Saronno was better and that one leaves every 30 minutes. So in the morning, I was dropped off at the train station and they told me once my SIM card started working in my cell phone, I could call Nico for a ride home, as long as it was after school. I had all their numbers written down on a post-it note.

I went into the station, bought a ticket for Milan and back. Just as I bought my ticket, I saw a train pull up. I didn’t know where this train was going, but I knew another wasn’t coming for 30 minutes. I made the split second choice to get on and figure the rest out later. So I got on and found that the map was only a local one of Milan, and not at all helpful. At this point I figured I’d just see where I ended up. We made three stops that didn’t look very Milan-y. So I kept riding. We got to a fourth and everyone was getting out, so I did too.

They were doing a lot of construction on
the Palazzo. A lot of it need a facelift.
But it added to the character!

I started walking around the square outside the train station, looking for a place that sold maps or really gave any indication that I was in fact in Milan. I assumed I was, because it was a big city. But I wasn’t 100% sure. It took me a surprisingly long time to find a map, ( I was in Milan) but I did and found my first planned stop, Plazzo Sforzesco. After exploring there, I had been told to walk down Via Dante and make my way toward the Duomo and then the Galleria for some (window) shopping.

I managed to navigate without too much difficulty, but I did notice that scam artists and creepy people were a lot pushier to me now than they were in Paris. I don’t know if it’s because I’m alone now or if they act that way toward everyone, but I had to tell the guys at the Palazzo that “I DO NOT want your bracelet  I know it’s not free. Seriously GO AWAY.” Eventually I got away from them.

After the Galleria, I sat down to decide where I should go next, but some man thought I was lost. I wasn’t. But he was pointing out things on the map that I should see. It didn’t really bother me until he started holding my hand. He asked how old I was, and I said I’m 21. He told me he was 59 and said “Oh… I am too old for you. Unless... you think I’m not?” I told him he most definitely way was too old for me. Then he said he loved me and we could get married. I declined as politely as I could and walked away very quickly. I really can’t emphasize enough the near dead sprint I was in.

Duomo del Milano. They were doing construction on the top so didn't get one straight on.

The Galleria

Shopping Malls in America aren't this fancy.

Oh you didn't know Mercedes Benz also made clothing and luggage?
Peasant.

After that, I’d had enough of the city, and I decided to head back. I knew it might be a little early for anyone to be able to get me but I knew I would feel better going home. That’s when my cell phone, with 50% battery, decided it was actually dead and refused to turn on. Panic.

But there’s nothing I can do about it and I figured I deal with getting to Sarrono then worry about getting home. I got on the train and after many more stops than there were in the morning, I made it to Saronno and hopped off. I took one look around and realized this was not right. I then see the sign actually says:

Saronno

Sud

Sud. That dang tiny word meant I was at the south station, not the main one. (Okay, it might not have been that small, but still.) I ponder my choices, wait 30 min for the next train to come or walk to the other station I can vaguely see down the tracks (no, I’m not about to tell you I walked on train tracks, don’t worry mom.) I decide I need to find a bathroom anyway and that, since I know the tracks move in a straight line, I could find the next station. So I began my epic odyssey through this foreign city where almost no one speaks English without a functional cell phone to figure out how to get to the station. And the best part is  I still don’t have a way home from the station.

I do eventually get there after about 30 minutes of walking (Saronno is a very cute town.) I felt very empowered because I’d never actually had to do anything like that alone before.

So I started looking for people who would let me use their cell phone. I asked the legit looking people, but none of them spoke enough English to understand what I was asking. As per my luck, the creepiest guy so far (his teeth were circles with red fillings (??) in the middle. I’m dead serious. It was terrifying) offered to let me use his phone. But no one answered. Mr. Creepster then asked, “What’s your name” Me: “Kathleen” (I either tell who people I don’t want to know my name I’m Kathleen or Shelby. Don’t ask, I just like the name. My name is entirely too easy to trace.)

Creepy: “So you have a phone number?” (Me *in my head: “Obviously not, otherwise I wouldn’t have to use yours.  DUH*) Me: No. Creepy: So how am I going to call you? Me: You’re not. Creepy: Where are you going? Me: Turate. Creepy: I’ll give you a ride there. Me: Absolutely not.

At this point, I’m getting pretty good at spriting away from creepy people.

After maybe 20 minutes of wandering and asking random shop vendors, I found a nice guy who let me use his phone and made it home. All told, my adventure home took at least 2 hours.

Anyways, that’s been my life. I’m heading into Milan again tomorrow and Monday I am going to check out a climbing gym in Milan. If you stuck with this long post, thank you. One day I will channel my inner Hemmingway, but it might take me a while. Ciao!  

J'adore Paris

As my Paris traveling partner Kevin might say, "Paris doesn't suck"

Well my time in Paris is up. Or almost up. I am spending my last remaining hours sitting at a café writing and people watching. Doesn’t that sound romantic?

Okay that's a lie.

It’s not a café; it’s the lobby of my hotel. Okay and so across the street is a McDonalds.  So it’s not as romantic.

But let's imagine it the first way.

This post may get long, so I am going to break it into sections so you can read what interests you. The categories are as follows:

·      Things I have learned

·      First impressions/experiences

·      The food

·      The sites

Things I’ve learned:

One of my goals while traveling is to learn about different people and cultures. I want to see what makes us different and what makes us the same. I am trying to keep track of what I learn. These aren’t going to be deep life philosophies as much as general observations about the world. Here’s what I’ve learned/seen so far.

• ·     The “OH MY GOSH” noise you make when you almost drop your iPhone but miraculously catch it is the same in any language.
• ·      Crepes are better than pancakes.
• ·      A 80 or 90 year old woman can have a beer and cigarette for breakfast and you can’t judge her for it.
• ·      French people aren’t rude. Nearly everyone was friendly, willing to translate and accommodate the fact we can’t speak French.
• ·      I am really grateful I can speak English for several reasons: It’s so hard to learn but it’s so useful. Most people here could speak “just a little bit” of English.
• ·      There aren’t fat people here. At least not by American standards. (I’ll explain this more in the “food” section.
• ·      If you rock climb in France, they take your word for it that you know how to not injure yourself instead of making you pass tests and sign waivers.
• ·      When you aren’t looking for a baguette or crepes, they are everywhere. When you want either, the closest store is a mile away.

First Impressions:

As I was flying into France over the country side I was struck by just how much it looked like Kansas. It was patchwork-quilt-like farms peppered with barns, and towns of varying sizes. As we got lower to the ground I could see more differences but farms are farms no matter where you go.

After getting out of the airport and into the city, I was mesmerized by city. It was awesome. I spent the entire walk to the hotel looking up at the buildings. I actually spent most of the trip doing this. Thus, I tripped, a lot. I am actually surprised I didn’t get hurt.

Almost immediately one of the wheels on my 50 lbs suitcase more or less gave up. This meant I was basically dragging my suitcase until I got too tired and Kevin kindly stepped in.

After getting settled we walked around Montmartre, where we were staying. Some of it was full of tourist trap shops selling almost anything you could dream of buying. Some of it was so quaint and beautifully Parisian, I felt like I was in a part of Epcot.

The food:

Finding different places to eat was always a fun experience. Holding to Kevin and my favorite food group, we ate a lot of Chinese food. French Chinese food is pretty similar to American Chinese food but less fried and probably less MSG-y. It was a good stand by if we couldn’t find anything else to eat.

For breakfast we tended to stop a different restaurants where we got the classic French breakfast: a big piece of bread with butter or jam, a croissant, orange juice and a “hot drink.” Normal adults order coffee; I always got hot chocolate.

We also almost always ended up in the McDonalds across the street so Kevin could get coffee and no matter how busy it was, I noticed that everyone in there was relatively skinny. The mostly overweight people I saw the entire time I was here I would describe as “portly.” I’m sure there are cultural reasons why this is the case (smaller serving sizes, more activity, etc…) but it was interesting to see.

Lunch tended to be our big meal of the day, since prices were better. Some of my favorite meals include the croque-monsieur, duck, chocolate/Nutella crepes, mulled wine, a picnic by the Eiffel Tower and our fancy meal on the last night. The escargot was quite good as well.

Croque-monsiuer is a French staple. Typically, it’s a fancy grilled cheese with ham. At one restaurant (where we ate OUTSIDE while it was actively SNOWING!! brrr) it actually came with Salmon and berries. It was fantastic. Maybe my favorite meal of the entire trip. At the same restaurant, we ate escargot. It was tasty. It reminded me of muscles mainly.

I was in the middle of chewing at that exact moment. 

Snails 

Croque-Monsieur and salad.  

Kevin and I often stopped in little cafes for a break during the day and ordered mulled wine. I’d never had it before and it was fabulous.

Mulled Wine. Kevin's Pic

On one of the few sunny, warmish days we walked by the Eiffel tower and had a cheese, bread and fruit picnic. That was quite wonderful.

Our last night, we had a fancy steak dinner complete with drinks and cheese plate appetizers. Even though we didn’t get home until midnight because of it, it was still enjoyable. 

The Sights:

Since we spent about 8 days in Paris, we were able to see nearly all the touristy things we wanted without killing ourselves every day.

We ended up doing several things that Nomadic Matt recommended.

We followed his first day walking from The l'Arc de Triomphe. to Notre Dame, stopping everywhere in between like the Pantheon, the Latin Quarter and many other places.

We saw almost everything and since you probably know about almost all of these sites, I won’t bother to explain them to you; I just have a few reactions to them: 

Sacre Coeur: Beautiful church in Montmatre with an awesome view of the whole city. Definitely worth a visit. Be ware of scam artists.  I went to Ash Wednesday Mass here in French. I spent the whole time wondering if it really counted as church since I didn’t understand almost anything.

Sacre Coeur 

Louvre: Awesome art. Duh.  The building is a work of art in and of itself. The Mona Lisa is underwhelming but still worth seeing. Parts of it smelled like a huge fart. Seriously. It smelled really bad in some parts.

Lover’s Lock Bridge: A newer attraction where couples write their name on a lock, lock it to the bridge and throw the key into the Seine. It’s cute and funny to see people who used bike locks and gigantic master locks tongue-in-cheek.

Musee D’Orsay: I really enjoyed seeing Monet’s impressionism. No picture or replica can properly convey just how thick and textured his paintings are. I just wanted to touch them!
They don't let you take pictures there, so they don't want you to have your camera on you. But they make you check your bags and don't want you to leave your camera in your bag. It's an impossible situation

Versailles: Definitely my favorite attraction. But it was more for what Versailles had been than what it is today. We bought the passport that let you go to the Palace, Gardens (which are free during the week anyway), the Grand Trianon, le Petite Trianon and Marie Antoinette’s cottage.

Under chandeliers 

In reality, the gardens of Versailles were a tad gloomy. It’s February and they’re doing construction, so it was understandable but still somewhat disappointing. I had fun imagining the conversations of scandal, treason, war, love and lust that had once take place in those very gardens.

Inside the Palace was breathtaking. There were so many rooms I didn’t bother taking pictures of because the pictures couldn’t do them justice. I could spend days and days there and still be unable to take it all in.

Again, you have to kind of imagine it in all its grandeur. Because in reality it was packed with maybe 1,000 Asian tourists.**

** This is not an exaggeration. Seriously.  

If you ever need a “go to Versailles” buddy, I’m your girl. I already know I have to go back and see it in the summer. Even though it will be busier, it will be worth it.

Eiffel Tower: We went 3 separate times: Once for the picnic, once to go up and once to see it at night. If you can only go once, GO AT NIGHT. It was a least X100 better at night. It’s great during the day, but it’s stunning at night.

Catacombs: A really neat experience seeing thousands of bones. I definitely recommend going unless you are claustrophobic, don’t like walking 83 steps underground or don’t like human remains.  

All in all, going to Paris in February has its pros and cons. Everything is cheaper and less crowded but it’s not as pretty. It was rainy and overcast the entire time we were there. It’s definitely manageable; we just had to use our few hours of sunlight well. (For the record, weather.com was never accurate about what the weather was going to be like.)

I'll be sure to post more pictures on Facebook in the coming days!

Job Hunting

The following is an account of my entire weekend at the University of Northern Iowa international career fair. And a preview of where I will be moving in June.

I wrote this post in "real time" so these are my (slightly edited) thoughts about the entire experience as it is happening to me. 

The Night Before:

This is a BAD IDEA. This process is so stressful. I don't know if I should accept a likely offer from a school in Taiwan or interview and see what happens. (I could get a job in an awesome place or I could end up without a job.) The prospect of finding a job is a lot more intimidating than thinking about actually leaving the country. That doesn't bother me right now. But I just have several prospects  that are very up in the air. Right now I am waffleing between a boarding school in Taiwan and a school in Thailand. They both sound great for complete different reasons. I don't know what I'm going to do.

What was I thinking?

I'm going to take a very long bath and curl my hair.

If I don't make it and you find this unfinished blog, post it as a chronical of my final moments of sanity.

How I feel:

After Interview Sign Ups. PreInterviews:

I remember what it's like to breathe (kinda). I had forgotten for a few hours.

Here is the first universal truth I have noticed at this fair. Whether you are 21 or 51 your mom (or dad/aunt/brother/grandma, but mostly your mom)  is going to be worried about where you are going.

During the panel of people who had been teaching abroad, even the season administrators told stories about calling their moms telling they were moving to this country to the other. Everyone I met and talked to had a "oh my mom told me I couldn't go there" or "oh my mom told me I had to be by the beach!" story.

I just finished signing up for interviews: The experience is about 600 candidates in an exhibition hall, milling around tables, signing up for interviews. A few of the schools I went to looked at me with sad puppy eyes: "Oh, you don't have any prior teaching experience? And no masters degree? Well, we'll hold on to your resume."

Translation:

"HAHAHAHAHA. Go away."

Most schools were more receptive. In the end, I signed up for three interviews. It doesn't seem like very many, but unless I blow my interview with the school in Taiwan, they've said they're going to offer me a job. And that is very reassuring. They even bribed me with chocolate. I didn't hate that.

I signed up for a second interview (having already done one over Skype) with the school in Thailand, and I set up one for a school in Indonesia.

Almost all of the interviewers here are very jet lagged. It makes for some very interesting conversations with them.

Interviewer: "Okay, I will see you in room 1300 for the interview... or is it 1030? Grumble Grumble Grumble. Just show up on the 1000s, and I will find you."

Me: "Okay! Is that in this building or the Ramada"

Interviewer: "Yes, see you then"

Me: walks away confused*.

**don't worry, I asked someone else and figured it out.

I'm not certain where I will work, but at the very least, I will end up some place warm. Fun Fact: It was -30 degrees here this morning with wind chill. Without the wind it was -11. I am surviving this winter by repeating my mantra: "Last Winter. Last Winter. Last Winter." It doens't make me warmer, but it makes me feel a tiny bit better.

Post Interviews:

I got JOB OFFERS. I AM NOT A FAILURE!

The job offer I got was for a school in Indonesia. They have several campuses on Java. I would be teaching 7th, 8th and/or 9th grade. I turned down Taiwan because it didn't seem like it was the best fit for me. 

Post-Conference: 

My thoughts: 

"YAY, JOB. YAY, JOB. YAY, JOB. 

Oh HOLY CRAP."  repeat

Wow, what an experience. The conference was great and overwhelming. But I am so glad I went. I made a few friends at the conference, including a couple who also accepted a job in Indonesia, so I know 2 people on the whole island!

 I ended up accepting the job at the Bina Bangsa school in Indonesia. They have four campuses all across Java, and I don't know which city I will be in yet. But the biggest school is in Jakarta. The school is expanding rapidly, so there are a ton of job openings.

I only know the basics of the school right now. I will detail more information about the school once I know where I am going to be a what I am going to teach. And if you are the worrying sort, I have done research; it is just as safe as anywhere in the world is. No where is perfect. 

Right now I am just content with being really excited. So so excited. 

And thank you (yes you, reading this) for being supportive and wonderful. I certainly couldn't do it without you. 

Fun Fact: There is no word in Indonesian for "privacy." The entire concept does not exist there. That will certainly keep my life interesting.  

My next post will finally be from Europe. I leave Thursday to spend 9 days in Paris before heading to Italy. 

I told my friend Alex, who I talked about in a previous post, I would share his blog. He's teaching at the school where I student taught and is doing a bunch of cool teaching related stuff online. I am shamelessly promoting his work: http://alexreinecke.blogspot.com/ Check it out for cool stuff on Social Studies for high school!

Until then, here are some pictures of Indonesia: 

I think I can deal with this.

Jakarta Skyline