raimondi xmas

Flourishing Frame Christmas Card

Make unique Christmas cards with Shutterfly.

View the entire collection of cards.

Boston

One thing i miss most about Europe is spontaneity in it’s rawest, and most pure form.  This passed weekend, Eric and I were supposed to go to Fire Island to film some bizarre music video.  The only sketchy details he gave me were “space party,” and “fire island freak out.”  I asked few questions and when it came time to leave, my inaugural fire island freak out ended up being canceled.  My fluffy headed friend and I found ourselves sitting on my 20 year old blue leather coach deciphering what to do.  I have about had it with Jersey so I suggested a road trip.  I was cranky and looking for an escape.  Boston was mentioned and we were on our way in my car - Stefan.  

Brief side note, my first car was named Little Steven Van Zandt.  Not too sure why, but it happened that way.  My new car, of course needed a name because I’m a giant dork like that.  Eric actually came up with the brilliant name of Stefan.  My new Jetta is almost  identical to the old, just more sleek.  It’s got some stylin’ wheels, some leather, and some other feature’s that old little Stevie just didn’t have in him.  So - we arrived at Stefan, Urkel’s cool alter ego.

I grabbed my cute new Frye heels, a romper and some necessities and we were on our way.  Since I’ve been back in America, my google quota has resumed to it’s normal capacity.  It seriously irked me not to find a hotel before we left but I rolled with it.

We had no idea where we were going but we figured it out.  Between both of our iPods, there was a vast variety of dorky throwbacks, alternative, Frank Sinatra songs to get us from here to California.  Quite frankly, my favorite cruisin’ tunes when I’m with Eric are to put on his horrible past projects.  There’s something about scream-o high school projects that always get both of us to crack a smile (I think he dies a little bit inside though).

We got to Boston.  I’ve never been - ever.  It looks exactly like Philadelphia and nothing like my beloved New York.  It’s clean, Irish, and crawling with youth.  We meandered around and finally settled on a Holiday Inn.  

My Frye heels got stuck in every cobble stone that I passed by and the night was miserable.  The following day we parused the Quincy Market and got some incredibly fresh seafood and Italian goods at the Italian street fair.

Delicious!

Roma

Roma

Kelly’s been carrying her grandfather’s Italian guidebook around for the entire month.  Neither of us have looked at it, nor gave it much credit.  As we settled into our hostel, I cracked the bad boy open.

“There are hotels scattered all over the city, but bear in mind that nowhere is going to be quiet.  The centro storico is perhaps the best for its proximity to just about everything, and has a good selection of hotels.  The only area to avoid is around the Stazione Termini train station.”

We’re two blocks from the train station.  I wish it gave us a little bit more description then “Beware, avoid this place!”  Am I going to die, get raped, or even worse - get bed bugs!?  The Alessandro Palace is hardly a palace.  It’s impressive doors great you and a pair of foreigners at the front desk.  In our mad dash for finding housing last night, we must have overlooked that it was cash only.  I literally emptied my wallet and gave them every thing I had for our stay.  They also neglected to tell us that we can’t stay in the same room for four nights, we have to move tomorrow.

At this point we were both too hot and bothered to drag our luggage up 3 flights of stairs.  One of the guys helped Kelly and I was left to schlep my adolescent child up.  The room is decent.  Pretty small, but private.  There’s a flat screen TV that we don’t know how to work and a shower.  The key to the room is like our vaporetto passes.  It’s got some sort of keyless entry.  The man also told us that in order to work the electricity, you use the key.  I stuck it in and Kelly was in the bathroom.  There is also air conditioning which is a huge luxury at this point.  25 seconds into Kelly’s pee, the lights went off on her.  We took turns swiping the card to keep the lights on.  We were beyond frustrated.  Finally, Kelly figured out you have to leave the card in the port.  Talk about grade A window lickers.

After both of our snit fits came to an end, we began to relax.  The hostel is a bit more pricy then the typical.  I guess it’s worth it.  There’s free breakfast and pizza parties at night.  Woohoo?

My shower was refreshing.  I’ve yet to meet a shower head with low pressure.  This one blasted even the most pester-some dirt off.  Off to my pizza party...

I feel like I’m six again.

I’ve never been verbally assaulted in such a plethora of languages:

• “Ciao bay-be”
• “Hola mami”
• “Hi angel”
• “Buenacera mamacita”
• “Beautiful girls”

When in Rome-

I’ve let all my inhibitions go about being a tourist.  I even put my gigantic lens on my Nikon.  We woke up around 10 and after meticulously hiding our laptops in our luggage, we set out for a day on the town.  We purchased “hop-on, hop-off” bus tickets.  There are two lines that circle the city and you can come and go as you please.  It’s valid for two days and was worth the money.  I even donned the informational head phones.  We claimed our seats on the open air, upper deck and got off at the Colosseum.  Ay-chi-wow-wa.  What a sight!  

As we were meandering aimlessly, we were approached by a friendly face.  This girl was totally American.  I knew it before she opened her trap by her sun dress and Delta Phi monogramed aviators; sorority girl.  She was extremely friendly and asked us if we were planning to go into the colosseum.  Kelly and I both turned to each other.  We literally just stepped onto the property.  She was soliciting tours.  What an ingenious marketing ploy, she almost sold a salesman!  I kindly asked her where the nearest ATM was because I was more concerned about not having a single coin on me.  Wow, talk about doing your market research.  On the way back from the alleged ATM location (she misguided me,) we were approached by an attractive Australian man.  We both almost got sucked in but we were on our way.  We ended up not going in.  I had my super powered telescope lens on so I snapped some interior pictures through a gate.

Our next adventure was to the rear of us; the Roman Forum.  I have never had any previous interest in archaeology, but this was really cool.  The cornered off area was littered with about 20-30 people doing a dig.  They were sifting, digging, watering, and brushing.  I never would want to be an archaeologist, but it certainly would be an awesome experience to go on a dig for a few weeks.  The dig sight continued up this big hill that overlooked the colosseum and gardens.

Starvation and dehydration set in and we headed back down the hill.  As we were waiting for the bus, the Indian sales man asked me in Italian if I already had a ticket.  I’ve been doing extremely well managing this new found language but his accent totally threw me off.  I’ve been doing really well initiating conversation- but it’s the response that typically kills me.  For example, I’ll ask directions to a place but then I can’t comprehend what the reply is.

We got off in the neighborhood of Piazza Navona.  I really loved the comfort and quietness of Venice but I’m so happy to be back in the bustle of a city.  My nose lead us towards some cool fountains and lunch.  Our restaurant was in the middle of the square and a complete tourist trap.  They charged a service charge AND bread charge.  Hey, I guess one’s born every minute.  We immediately sucked down a litre of water and decided to order a litre of beer.  We didn’t quite know that litre translates to entire pitcher.  Here’s something totally disappointing.  When we go out to dinner, it usually takes us awhile to drink our wine.  We sip slowly and usually get into some pretty deep conversation.  Our shitty Carlsberg, we managed to suck it down relatively quickly and neither of us felt any side affects.  This means one of two things: 1. Our tolerance level is disgustingly high, or 2. They watered it down.  Our caprese salads were small and unfilling but the “beer” did the trick.

Sitting in this square was a great spot for people watching.  My favorite guy, upon first look, looked like a pirate.  He was wearing white flowly linen and black boots.  As he got closer, he was a jew!  Complete with curls and little prayer thing-a-ma-jig!  Lot’s of nuns and priests.  I was appropriately dressed today, so I didn’t receive any stares.  

We were in the neighborhood of the Pantheon so we decided to pay it a visit.  We stopped and got some crappy gelotti.  I had a strachiatelli and chocolate pepper combo.  The chocolate pepper was a deceptive little treat!  Upon first hitting my palate, it was a rich and bold chocolate.  Within 3 more bites, my mouth was on fire.  It was an interesting new flavor but I ended up tossing it out because it was too hot out to be sweating both externally and internally.  We turned the corner and found this building, the Pantheon.  It was swarmed with tourists, free, and neither of us were impressed.

We found our way back to the bus and were ready for the extended ride back to our 

‘palace.’  Somewhere in between sweat dripping down my legs and the Vatican, I passed out from exhaustion.  I awoke somewhere in the northern part of the city.  It was tree lined and beautiful.  The guided tour then took us through Rome’s 5th Avenue.  That’s on the agenda for tomorrow...

I was ready for a great nap once we got back to the hotel but I popped in my Angels in America DVD that I’ve been carrying around this whole trip.  We were totally sucked in and watched the whole first disk.  I read the play about a year ago and was totally enthralled.  I heard that HBO series was just as good.  My mom got it for me for christmas and I haven’t had the time to sit and watch.  Let me attempt to fill you in on the basic premises.  It’s about relationships and AIDS in the mid 80‘s.  There is a gay couple where one of them contracts AIDS.  He waits to tell his partner until he gets a few lesions.  The other couple, is a married Mormon couple.  The husband struggles with his dead end legal clerk job and the wife suffers from some neurological disease.  Husband seeks guidance from a pompous, prominent, and slimy New York City lawyer and politician - he’s gay too but closeted.  Lawyer also contracts AIDS and forces his doctor to tell the world that he has liver cancer in order to protect his “clout.”  The gay partner who is unaffected battles with the decision whether or not to stay with him.   After a bloody episode, he brings him to the hospital and leaves him.  Healthy gay guy also works under Mr. Mormon who is struggling with his lifelong homosexual desires.  They get it on while the wife is hallucinating on Valium and Meryl Streep comes in somewhere to save the day.  Are you following?  Go buy it.  It’s really great, now on to disk two.  Too heavy for my Roman holiday?

I patiently waited for the 8:30 hour to arrive.  Free hostel pizza and the Italia world cup match versus Paraguay.  We headed down to the hostel bar.  Pizza was free, but served in plastic tubs.  It was cold, slightly stale, and didn’t fill me up.  We booked it to the nearest place that had a TV.  I thought it was a bit peculiar that Italy doesn’t have very many traditional sports bars.  Now I know- they don’t need them.  Every trattoria, ristorante, and “pub” parked their flat screens on the street for all to view.  We layed our eyes on a crowded little restaurant but there were no seats.  The waiter motioned for us to come over and mumbled something to the affect that there’s always room for two beautiful girls.  Holy shit, if I was a narcissist, my head would pop off with all this flattery.  It’s getting to be annoying.  We sat and sipped on our house wine.  The score was still 0-0 in the first half.  Italia was maintaining possession beautifully but could not capitalize.  By the time I got what I ordered, I had forgotten.  What I got was spaghetti some sort of delicious greasy red sauce and something to the effect of pork fat.  Not sure, but it was good.  I just had to disguise the little Babe’s within a heaping forkful of pasta.

Paraguay struck first off a retarded penalty.  Hold on, let me set the tone of the restaurant.  Imagine about 40 or so chairs and tables on a street, packed on a monday night.  There were umbrellas, and a partition which separated the street.  On lookers watched from their mopeds and scooters behind us with great care and passion.  It’s as if you were to put all the Yankee fans in the world in one concentrated area, mix them with Red Sox fans and have them rooting for the same team.  The vibrancy and sense of passion that these people omitted was incredible.  The sighs for missed balls and plays as well as the exuberance for one good pass was unlike no other.  There was not macho grunting like American football.  The athletes were acrobatic in their dramatic falls and athleticism.  Even the most in shape person was envious.  Italia’s version of Gerard Butler struck back from a corner kick from #7 Pepe.  These two were insignificant to the grace and charisma of #3.  This left center is the object of my affection.  Since I’ve accepted my new sell out self, I will be purchasing a blue Italia shirt with this heart throb’s name on it.  I feel like I’m 10 again.  I wore my Derek Jeter shirt everyday in the third grade.  I even continued to wear it once it had holes in the arm pits.  My more adult fantasies are focused to Francisco Cervilli.  My best friend Samantha just started a job at MLB network television, I hope she can make dreams come true for me and my catcher.

We called it an early night - again.  I don’t know what’s wrong with me.  Party Kim must have died when she fell in the canal.  I have no energy to go out and experience Rome’s night life.  Hopefully tonight will be different.

Agenda today:

Vatican City and Rome’s 5th Ave.

Love my blog?

Vote for me to win this blog around the world contest!  Help me keep Party Kim alive and well, she's awful thirsty.  Since I've been back home, it just hasn't been the same.

http://www.blogyourwayaroundtheworld.com/blogs/view/1050

The Dichotomy of Tourism in Venice

Merriam-Webster Dictionary defines tourism as this:

Main Entry: tour·ism

Pronunciation: \ˈtu̇r-ˌi-zəm\

Function: noun

Date: 1811

1 : the practice of traveling for recreation
2 : the guidance or management of tourists
3 a : the promotion or encouragement of touring b : the accommodation of tourists

None of these definitions include a description of the atypical tourist, yet we all have a picture in our head of what one looks like.  My cliche tourist would be wearing velcro sandals with socks, which now I have learned have a great practicality to them.  In my short time in Europe, I destroyed about 5 beloved pairs of shoes just from normal activities.  They became worn, tattered, and covered in dirt.  If I were to throw a pair of socks on, it would be a lot cheaper then discarding a pair of shoes.  This man would also have a fanny packed stocked with essentials; laminated map, guide book, passport, local currency, chap-stick and suntan lotion with SPF, and some sort of translation book.  He would be wearing some type of loose tropical shirt to salvage him from the scorching temperatures that he’s unaccustomed to and have a gigantic camera strapped across his body, maybe even a water bottle.

Let’s call this tourist Frank.  Frank hopped on a plane from Chicago.  He lives just north in a small suburb called Lake Geneva, Wisconsin.  Lake Geneva is a small, but affluent town that is a getaway for Chicagoites.  His plane lands in Venice and he clumsily gets on the orange bus line to P.Le Roma.  It’s a bittersweet feeling for him.  He’s confused where to go, but thankful that he’s reached his final destination: La Serenissima.  Frank somehow manages to purchase a ticket and finds his hotel in the famed San Marco Square.  Wife and kids follow religiously in tow taking in the sights.  He’s approached by a gaggle of African men trying to sell nicknacks and miscellaneous junk.  Although he’s slightly curious, he resists and finally stumbles into his Best Western.  The family collapses onto the bed and nurses their exhausted bodies and recharge themselves to soak in all of the prime sightseeing locations.

My question is this, when did Frank and tourism become such a despicable thing?  I spent most of my trip trying to live incognito with the locals.  Traveling in such a large group, sometimes this was hard but I was able to assimilate into local culture by the end of the trip.  I feared wearing flashy clothing and sticking out.  When I travel, my main goal is to blend in and live the most simple and native life possible.  Where did Frank go wrong?  It’s much more than his obnoxious floral shirt and fanny pack.  His irreversible ecological damage is far worse than a fashion faux pas.  Let’s break down his journey just from the air port to San Marco and leave out air travel.   

Tourism is a bit of a catch 22.  Most places, especially underdeveloped nations rely on it, sometimes as a sole source of income.  Venice certainly benefits from it economically, but it’s hurting the fragile infrastructure in far more ways.  Now that our globe is trying to make a more valiant effort towards conservation, conscious’ are spiked with interest, but only when convenient for them.  For example, if someone gives you the choice between recycling a plastic bottle, or receiving $100 for throwing it in the trash, which would you decide?  For as green as I am, there would be no hesitation for the cash.  Venice is suffering from the same dilemma.
15 million people pass through Venice during it’s peak travel season in the summer months (Appendix 1).  Being there in the beginning of the season, it’s a sickening experience to witness.  Cruise boats and day trippers clog the streets and pollute with their litter and congestion.  During the nights it gets a bit more sparse, but none the less is still a concern.  “Unless the environment is safeguarded, tourism is in danger of being a self-destructive process, destroying the very resources upon which it is based (Environmental Contradictions in Sustainable Tourism).”  Do you think that Frank cares that his family consumed 5 litres of water at lunch?  There’s no space in their conscious for the disposal of those glass bottles that it was served in.  Ironically, Frank and his family dined on a water front dock with pollution floating beneath, they were just too ravenous to notice.

Anthropologist Amanda Stronza penned an article titled Anthropology of Tourism: Forging New Ground for Ecotourism and Other Alternatives.  In it, she makes the point that throughout history, there has been little research done that evaluates the tourist.  It’s been mainly a polarized studying between the effects of tourism and the motives for it.  Her basic analysis of why a tourist decides to travel is this:  “The act of seeing sights ‘in person’ and then sharing the experience with others through photographs, souvenirs, and stories allows tourists to reassemble the disparate pieces of their otherwise fragmented lives.  Through tourism, then, life and society can appear to be an orderly series of representations, like snapshots in a family album (Stronza 266).”  She later goes on to say that “leisure travel is indeed like a pilgrimage, one that can lift people out of the ordinary structures of their everyday lives.”

These are great basic observations, but what are the results of these pilgrimages and holidays?  Traditional conclusions about tourism are grim and pessimistic.  I would have to say that I agree with that, especially in Venice’s case.  In developing countries, tourism offers great economic opportunities for development.  Yes, the host nations always runs the risk of developing a dependence on the outside world, but aren’t we all connected anyway?  What’s one more guest at a dinner party.  Venice is hardly developing.  With such rich history dating back to 421 AD, you can hardly call Venice a developing nation.  They need to focus on preservation.  Venetian residents are being pushed out of their native home because the tourism industry has sucked up any career advancement opportunities and driven prices too high for the average person.

With the Venetians being forced out, this leaves the fate of Venetian culture in the hands of very few.  Another anthropologist, Urry, coined the term “the tourist gaze.”  It’s basic principal is that the tourists travel to a place with a preconceived notion of what to expect and how the locals should act, dress, and behave.  Going hand and hand with this, the locals play into it and solicit stereotypical goods and souvenirs.  While sometimes this is a good thing, I look at it as being a negative one.  

Traveling with such a large group of unexperienced world travelers (I include myself as well,) some were sucked into this trap.  They purchased endless amounts of goods that were to me, clearly made in China.  If someone were to travel to New Jersey to visit, I would show them the real New Jersey; the shore, great and fresh produce - not Newark airport’s souvenir shop.  Things that are authentically native to New Jersey.  I wouldn’t take them to a bodega and feed them packaged chips.  It is this sort of thing that I wish tourists had a more keen eye or.  With the 15 million tourists each July, Venice is loosing it’s authenticity.  I had to nearly go on a wild goose chase to find what I think is the only leather-smith left in Venice.  Trades are being outsourced for cheaper qualities.  This was a problem in the United States with modernization but what happens when the Chinese decide to inflate labor costs?  It’s a scary chain of events that we’re in for.

With the fate of Venice looming in the tourist’s grimy and infected hands, I hope that they will soon realize what they’re doing.  They need to recognize that the fastest dollar is not always the most beneficial.  Although that may be an unfortunate truth that only myself and a few others realize, everyone will soon enough.

Playing into the “growth” and expansion of Venice, I recall having a conversation while I was in Venice with Marina that it was a proposed idea to dig an underground tunnel that connects Marco Polo to Venice and Lido.  Amsterdam is looking to alleviate their traffic clogged streets by creating a series of underground tunnels for cars and shops that correspond to their lagoon system above.  Their lagoons are controlled by locks and it would be easy for them to dig and put the tunnels in place beneath their marshy and similar terrain.  Although this may be a great engineering feat, I think that it is despicable.  Has our world grown so large that there’s no more space to grow upwards?  Our only option left is to plunge into the depths of hell.

I was not able to find any documents about the underground Venetian tunnel but dredging is a large concern.  On a visit to Torcello, I was able to see a close example of what Venice was like years ago.  It was marshy, natural, and what the Adriatic ecosystem should look like.  Even Torcello was being over run by silt.  You can only mechanically intervene so far until mother nature takes back control (Appendix 2).  Dredging is one of the main attributing factors for the rising sea level.  The city is sinking and if more dredging is planned for the expansion of the port, that will surely be a nail in the coffin.

As to any argument, there are two sides.  In Venice’s situation, they have to seriously sit down and weigh out the pro’s and con’s to their predicament.  They are in grave danger for what’s in store.  This was most evident to me on our final night in Venice.  The same holes that are responsible for discarding rain water were flooding the city.  It makes a great photo but the actuality and reality of what really is happening is nothing short of horrific.  Weather conditions and floods are worsening in the winter, but in the dead of summer, tides are increasing as well.

In conclusion, there are plenty of things to love and cherish about Venezia.  It’s a beautiful, historic, and powerful city that has been in existence with all it’s might for ages.  However, this new millennium has put it onto the endangered species list.  Many changes need to take place in order to preserve and salvage the damage that has been done otherwise, it will become extinct. 

Works Cited

"BBC NEWS | Europe | Venice Is Hit by Serious Flooding." BBC NEWS | News Front Page. 1 Dec. 2008. Web. 29 June 2010. <http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/7758204.stm>.

Duff, Mark. "BBC NEWS | Europe | Venice Launches Tourist Website." BBC NEWS | News Front Page. Web. 30 June 2010. <http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/europe/7863349.stm>.

"Environmental Contradictions in Sustainable Tourism." Environmental Contradictions in Sustainable Tourism (1994). J Store. Web. 29 June 2010. <http://www.jstor.org.library.ramapo.edu:2048/stable/3059924?&Search=yes&term=tourism&list=hide&searchUri=%2Faction%2FdoBasicSearch%3FQuery%3Dtourism%26wc%3Don%26dc%3DAll%2BDisciplines&item=2&ttl=27997&returnArticleService=showArticle>.

"Environmental Groups Fears Venice Dredging." Dredging News Online. 09 Sept. 2009. Web. 30 June 2010. <http://www.sandandgravel.com/news/article.asp?v1=12072>.

Stronza, Amanda. "Antrhopology of Tourism: Forging New Ground for Ecotourism and Other Alternatives." Annual Reviews (2001). J Store. Web. 30 June 2010. <http://www.jstor.org.library.ramapo.edu:2048/stable/3069217?seq=1&Search=yes&term=tourism&list=hide&searchUri=%2Faction%2FdoBasicSearch%3FQuery%3Dtourism%26wc%3Don%26dc%3DAll%2BDisciplines&item=7&ttl=27997&returnArticleService=showArticle&resultsServiceName=doBasicResultsFromArticle>.

"Tourism - Bar Chart." Direzione Sistema Statistico Regionale - HomePage. Web. 30 June 2010. <http://statistica.regione.veneto.it/ENG/jsp/barre.jsp>.

Waterfield, Bruno. "New Underground City Planned for Amsterdam - Telegraph." Telegraph.co.uk: News, Business, Sport, the Daily Telegraph Newspaper, Sunday Telegraph - Telegraph. 9 Feb. 2008. Web. 30 June 2010. <http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/worldnews/1578139/New-underground-city-planned-for-Amsterdam.html>.

Willey, David. "BBC NEWS | Europe | Venice Tourism Squeezes out Residents." BBC NEWS | News Front Page. Web. 30 June 2010. <http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/europe/6297727.stm>.

A Baby United Nations - All the Memorable People That I Met

Argentina!


The Flamini Brothers, heartthrobs, I think one had a child- We met them one of the first nights.  They led us to Santa Margarhita so we are forever grateful.  They then led us to the mysterious night club we deemed "Narnia-" it was never to be found again.  All in all, a great time.

The Brits

There were a gaggle of them.  One group was a group of diverse students - French, Asian, and British.  Then there were the British chaps.  My favorite one was immaculately dressed in 

something to the affect of a 3 piece Ralph Lauren 
suit.  What a trip!  I discussed some pretty heavy hitting topics with these guys.  The ridiculous one in the suit told me that he was "old money" but his family was on the decline.  The burden was on his shoulders to regain their status so he was joining the royal navy upon his return.  What a prick!  Other topics discussed were American politics, parliamentary government, Italian politics, and the importance of serving in the armed forces when pursuing a political career.  These guys were probably my favorite because I could actually have an intellectually stimulating conversation with them.



Albania
Tony, Gomy, and Eddie-
They just wanted sex.  Thanks, but no thanks.  Eddie was a really sweet guy.

Padovians
Manuel, the break dancer, and Guilio, the unattractive translator and ACTV worker.  We met these two on the way back from Lido.  We were uncomfortably crammed into an area with them.  Manuel was a real cutie but Guilio was the lingual link.  A bunch of us obliged to go out with them one night.  We met up and got pizza.  We shared a few pitchers of birra and spritz.  Pass me the beer - spritz is nauseating.  I couldn't even begin to describe the taste.  It's bitter and I think has some prosecco in it - a local favorite, but not for me.  Kelly and I shared a prosciutto pizza.  They all ordered pizza with french fries on top - ew.  One slightly hilarious observation from the meal was that out of the 5 girls that were with us, we all housed our meal in 1/2 the time that they were eating.  Gluttonous Americans!  When it came to paying, Guilio insisted he take care of all of us; "I'm in the mafia."  WTF - but he did have some sort of card that must have taken care of it.  They all invited us to their parent's houses; "My mom with cook for you!"  No thanks, but thanks for perpetuating the stereotype.  We went out to the bars afterwards with them.  Giulio sucked down 3 flaming absynths and got out of control - we ran.  Manuel sent an apology note the next day on Facebook which was nice.  Moral of the story - Italians blatantly state when they want to fuck.


America!
New Yorkers (upstate) - Extremely sweet and courteous, backpacking through Europe.
South Jersey - I ran from them.  I can meet a Jersey kid any day of the week.  They reminded me too much of home.
Vanderbilt Law Students - Studying in Venice.  Definitely baby lawyers, pompous, outspoken and perpetually difficult to get the point across.  I told one girl that her Free People dress was cute and she told me to go fuck myself and New York was the epitome of scum.  Your welcome?  I nearly decked her, but, I walked away.

Meeting such a diverse amount of people made the trip.  Just visiting the sites was only half of the experience.

Venice Final Thoughts

Venice is certainly a city that I will continue to return to.

People who I spoke with prior to the trip said something similar to that effect.  Those who stayed less time have less of an allegiance and connection.  Our final night, the whole group dined out at a friendly restaurant.  There was a three course price fixe that Kathy and Marina arranged for us.  Prosecco and water were also amply provided. 

BREAD: Bread is almost always served but never any olive oil.  I think the group as a whole missed butter.  Later on when Kelly and I were on the plane back home, they served butter to us.  What a strange concept!?  Butter on bread, butter itself?  Some people eagerly surveyed the area for olive oil but were stopped by Marina.  "We just don't to that here."  She was very defensive of the her proper culture, and I respect and commend that.  I don't blame here, that's how culture is preserved.

Course One:  A perfectly served al dente bowtie tossed in a light olive oil and finely diced vegetables.  Yum!  We had a few finicky eaters.  This was a rather plain dish but I watched on as some used the entire parmesan provided to completely mask the taste of the pasta.  To me, that's a shame.  I also watched another pick out each vegetable.  I'm not one to mix food on my plate but if it's pre-blended and served that way, there must be a reason for it.  In this case, the pairings were exquisite.

Course Two: Tender veal in a lemon reduction paired with caramelized carrots (covered in sesame seeds) and gently baked potatoes.  Geena spotted the demon seeds before I was served and I was able to get my plate without them.  I was very lucky with my allergy for the entirety of the trip.  The only close call I had was in Lido when I ferociously snarfed down some crackers that had trace amounts of sesame in them.  Luckily, I was able to shake it off.  The main course was good but a bit too tart for my taste buds.

Dessert: Tiramisu.  I'm still not a fan, but I was stuffed anyway.  

After we were all a little bit silly from the wine and chubby with our full stomachs, we headed to San Marc's square for a farewell photo.  It was flooded.  The same holes that discard rain water are responsible for flooding.  It makes a great photo but the actuality and reality of what is really happening is nothing short of grim.  The city sinking and with the constant alterations and tourism, it's heading towards it's death.  Each year the flooding worsens.  Marinia even mentioned the possibility of constructing a tunnel from the airport, Venice, and Lido.  The ecosystem is fragile enough.  They shouldn't alter it anymore.  

Cruise Ships- I have been on about 5 or 6 cruises.  It's a great way to cover a lot of the ground and in a short period of time, that's about it.  I was rather young when I traveled this way.  From what I can remember, they did a good job "advertising" on board that they were eco friendly.  There were bull shit signs everywhere that said something to the effect of "save the waves, don't litter."  That's all well and fine that the passengers don't litter but what about all the ecological harm that was caused so that the ship can fit into the port?  In Venice's case, irreversible dredging damage has been done to the ports in order to accommodate the ships.  It's a scary scary world out there.  But hey, litter away - the gulf spill is the end of it all anyway.

Back to cruising -  The amount of food was a joke but looking back, it never reflected the local cuisine at all.  Did I even go to those specific ports?  Was I even traveling at all?  Most likely not.  Thousands of tri-state area gluttons flop themselves onto these traveling cities and pollute with their masses.  Hardly a vacation when you never really leave what you're comfortable.  

Take a deep breath Kim.

Back to our final night as a group-

For awhile, we just stood and soaked everything up.  We took a few pictures and I asked Ray if he would dance with me.  He was looking damn good in his sport jacket and khakis.  On our way out, we tangoed - neither of knew how, but we had a ball.  We tore that square up.  I think people even enjoyed watching us.  Looking back on it, we should have had a rose in one of our mouths.  I love living out the most tacky cliches, it's great fun!

It's hard to conceptualize the bond that has been forged with Venice.  One of my friends spent a considerable amount of time in Venice.  Before my trip, we went out to grab a bite to eat.  He was gleaming with excitement and envy for me.  We communicated almost daily and he was always eager to hear about my journey.  It wasn't until I left Venice that I realized why he had so much envy.  All the pieces fell into place.  

My favorite part about Venice is that it's based on reciprocity.  If you care about her and put in the time, she'll show you just as much love.  Obviously this works both ways too.  Kelly and I stayed an extra day.  On our final stroll, we passed our first friend that we made - Salvatore.  He was saddened to hear that we were leaving and wished us the best on our journey.  The friendly wine boy said the same.  Eddie, our beloved Albanian bartender, gave us all giant hugs as we parted ways.  (Hell, I would too If I had 10 students empty their pockets in to my hands!)

A reflection on traveling with 9 essentially strangers-

Ramapo College of New Jersey is hardly a mecca for diversity.  Out of the 10 of us, 6 were from Bergen County, one was from the shore, one from Passaic County, and one from Sussex.  Despite our close proximity, we varied greatly.  Some people commuted, some transfered, and some lived on campus.  My college experience hasn't been your typical one.  After not going to my first and only choice school (hockey recruiting mishap,) I settled for the close and comfortable Ramapo.  I've tried to like it, I really have.  In fact I hated it until this trip.  My first year I lived in a triple dorm.  I liked one of the girls a lot and the other one stunk, literally.  My second year I lived in an on campus apartment and since I was so familiar with the area, there was no distinction from work, school, or family.  My 3rd year I lived with my then boyfriend.  I thought at the time it was the right thing to do for my independence but it in fact  threw me backwards on the spectrum.  Living back at home has perpetuated my independence.  I was previously concerned with which direction my career would take me in.  I'm not worried now.  I think I have enough wit and the ability to think on my toes to work in a variety of situations.  I was fed up with school prior to this trip, that's partly why I wanted to graduate early.  I changed my mind, my liberal arts education has given me enough material to excel in multiple fields.  Now I want to figure out how to finance an international grad school or fieldwork via my employers.  The quest will commence once I am not charged 5 euro an hour for internet.

People on the trip-

Everyone had their quirks.  I've known 2 girls since age 5.  It was a real treat to see what they've grown into - completely different from what I had expected.  It's a beautiful thing to be an observer and watch people grow.  This trip served that purpose for a few people.  They really came into themselves.  Having coached for a few years now, it's really cool to watch people mature.  I don't want to sound like an old bag hypocrite, I am only 20 - but I've always had an older soul despite my young age.  I was always a bit cocky and out spoken, but also reserved.  A few months ago, I snapped out of that.  I lost my identity for a few years and let others dictate my path.  After coming to that actualization, I was a much happier person.  Some people on the trip were extremely vocal.  I let everything slide.  Since I rediscovered who I am, others have the right to be themselves as well.  I'm much less judgmental.  I still am fixated when it comes to designer authenticity, but little stuff doesn't matter to me anymore.  Oh no- I'm getting a little too Buddhist.    

One of my favorite Zen sayings is "leap and the net will appear."

I'm not afraid to skin my knees or get a bug bite.  Battle wounds are more interesting than perfection and botox anyway.

With 4 nights left in Italy, I'm not ready to go back yet.  Of course I miss my family and friends, even some comforts - but there's way too much to explore.

My next trip:

- I'm taking one singular backpack

- Destination: either South America or Europe, can't decide.  This travel bug is a real thing after all, and it's bitten me hard.

About a year ago, a Canadian friend of mine sent me the name of a program in Spain where you live at a five star hotel and help business execs from all over Europe learn and speak English.  That's well and great, but how do I become one of those execs?  Spanish isn't so scary anymore to me.  Just plunk yourself down in the native country and you'll learn.  It's sink or swim.  I'd love to pursue an academic future but I've developed a taste for fine food and quality goods.  How the hell do I finance those tastes?!

Some final Venice stuff:

-ACTV workers (the Vaporetto) are the sexiest men in Venice.  Their tanned skin goes beautifully with their designer glasses.

- Venice is absolutely safe and secure, much more so then the rest of the places that I traveled in Italy.

Things that I won't miss

• Algae!

This was the sight of the crime

• African purse salesmen - if a NY street vendor followed me, I'd deck him.
• Rose solicitors
• Pizza, I'd be OK if I never had another slice for as long as I love
• Squid, anchovies, and spritz
• The lack of gyms.  On the last day I found one in the tiniest ally!

Miss Carolina's take on my swim...

At this point it was three in the morning, and we decided we all needed food in order to continue trekking. Nothing was open, but we smelled something… delicious. (Think Nabisco factory while driving through Fair Lawn) In our foggy states we followed the scent to a bakery where we peeped in to find tray after tray of freshly baked bread.   Never ones to hold back, we yelled into the mysterious breadtopia. A savior emerged. We asked him to spare a roll. He seemed happy to help us. He disappeared and came back with a huge white bag of every kind/size roll you could possibly want. Thank you, kind stranger. We promised that we would go to town on our food when we got home to our olive oil, salt, and pepper.

With our sack of bread in tow, we dropped off our pilot friend at the Realto. We tried to explain to him how to manage his way from there, but we all knew chances were, he had quite the journey ahead of him considering it was his first night. (We later learned he got so lost, he waited until a kiosk opened so he could buy a map. He walked in a few hours after the sun was up. Poor kid.)

We were getting very tired and decided to seriously focus on getting back to the apartment. It had been raining on and off all night, so puddles were forming everywhere leaving our feet wet and muddy.

It was then Kim decided she needed to wash her feet.

Looking like the female Father Christmas, she slung our precious bread bag over her shoulder and approached the steps leading into the canal. It was wet. It was covered in lagoon growth. It was slippery. One step. Two step. Three step-

PLOP.

Ladies and gentlemen, she took the plunge.

Our loaves went flying, and she was sucked into the canal. I’m talking head just above the water, doing the doggy paddle trying to keep her face above the sewage water. Now, Kim is New York City savvy, never loses her cool kind of chick. So her expression was truly priceless. Her face went from pure shock, to the realization- holy shit, I’m submerged in poop. She tried to pull herself up, but she couldn’t get a grip on the edge because of the algae. I ran over to lend her a hand. I tried my best to be careful. However, staying dry wasn’t in the cards for me either. I ate it. My bottom half was totally in. We were Lucy & Etheling it. Christa came over, grabbed both of our hands, and pulled us out. Tell me that didn’t just happen.

As if it were a crime scene, our twenty loaves of bread floated where our dignity was murdered.

Sopping wet from the toilet water, we ran home whimpering like little girls. 

We suspect that we will start growing webbed feet and dorsal fins within the next 24 hours.

Stay tuned.

Our stomping grounds, Eddie’s

The man who started it all, Eddie (am I right about Tom Cruise/Josh Hartnett or what?)

Revisiting the grave. It drops off right after that last visible step.

Rome

Since intertron time is limited to 30 minutes a day, i'm sorry my posts are sparse and don't incorporate pictures.

My flight home is Thursday so I plan to have everything squared away upon arrival back in New York City.

Ciao.

Beach

Amazingly relaxing day, and well needed. 

The most stressful thing that occurred today was the maid barging into our room around 9 o’clock.  Kelly fell back asleep and I parked myself out on the terrace to write a bit.  Around 12, we made our way down to get some lunch and head to the beach.  The restaurant swiped my debit card four times and told me it didn’t work.  That makes me nervous.  I want to check my statement and see if they stole anything.  

My TD Bank card is the new laser printer kind.  It’s completely flat.  When I first got it, it almost looked like a novelty.  I guess they can’t imprint your card - I don’t know.

We arrived at the beach, about a 3 minute walk.  There were colorful umbrellas and chairs.  The left side, separated by a plank, was the lowly public beach.  A small sliver designated for the less fortunate and frugal.  We scoped out some real estate and plunked down.  The black, sort of pebbly sand burnt our hooves.  I woke up from my nap nearly about to pass out from dehydration.  I found a gelateria and that cooled me down.  The water was a bit cooler then Capri and the sand was great.  

I took a relaxing bath in the afternoon.  For dinner, we ate in the the smaller square.  It was OK.  Towards the end of our meal, USA vs. England was on.  We couldn’t quite see from our angle so when English scored, I accidently cheered.  We headed back to the hotel bar which was dead but had a large flat screen to watch the game.  Unfortunately - i fell asleep while watching.  We went back to our room before the conclusion.  Italia’s game tomorrow should be more livlely

Roma tomorrow !

The girl with the hat

My fedora strikes up a lot of interesting conversation: “I like your hat, Ciao.”

After returning to our hotel and showering, we decided to share our remaining litre of cabernet from our beloved Venice.  We marched down the hill in search of futbol!  There were tv’s all over the little squares.  They were wheeled out and perched for all to view.  We decided to keep going down the hill to see if we could mesh both FIFA madness and waterfront romance.  Fail.  We found a quaint, fairly inexpensive place on the beach and split a bottle of pinot grigio.  This was the first restaurant that the waiter sampled the wine for me.  I obliged and tasted it.  Am I really supposed to return a bottle in Italy?  Come on, I’ve yet to taste a bad one.  Well there was that red one that we got from the Alla Botte store in Venice, but we left it out for a few too many days.

NCIS was playing on the widescreen behind me.  Kelly was sucked in, telling me plot details of the specific episode.  We both ordered insalate Caprese.  It was absolutely divine.  The mozzarella here is smaller then I have been typically seeing, about 2 inches big.  The tomatoes are the absolute freshest.  Just about a year ago I didn’t eat tomatoes.  I think I was the only Italian in the world who didn’t.  My first was a juicy beefsteak in the heat of summer, slathered in Peter Luger’s steak sauce at Brandon’s beautiful mountain house.  That did it, I was hooked.  We split a ham and mushroom pizza but could have done with out it.  

As we casually drank our wine and laughed, it started to drizzle.  The wait staff panicked and starting moving tables around.  They had a retractable roof that came down and provided shelter.  The friendly English speaking waiter came over and exchanged conversation.  There are four types of winds that hit Amalfi.  This one was the African wind which brings the rains and humidity.  He also was complaining of a fever-  strange.  The northern winds bring cold and I can’t remember the other two.  After I paid, he brought out two perfectly chilled lemoncello shots and the best lemon sorbet I’ve ever had.  There were bits of lemon ground up in it and it melted as it hit your tongue.  Happy camper.

Friendly and courteous American boys!

We never got our soccer.  As we were walking back up, I spotted a MLB hat.  At first I thought it was a yankee hat, but then there was a red brim.  We exchanged conversation with our new found Emory graduates, exploring just like us.  We shared a few beers and discussed a wide range of topics.  They were staying somewhere up the mountain and had rented a car.  Yesterday they rented a boat and had a self guided tour of Capri.  That would have been cool, too.

With the prospect of a potentially fun night, I went inside and finagled some cheap lemoncello shots.  While we were sitting there I was watching this young blonde English speaking (most likely American) girl surrounded by 4 or 5 preying old men.  They were moving in for the kill and I felt awful witnessing this.

The boys picked up our tab which was lovely and we parted ways.  Overall, the night was mellow and fun, perfect for our little holiday.

Capri

I feel tan!  YAY and no burn.

I miss my partners in crime, however this is not a place for that sort of debauchery.  The Amalfi Coast is the epitome of grandeur and romance.  It’s an absolute necessity to have a partner in company to experience this.  I’m glad I have Kelly.  I know she’ll always be around to reminisce.

Boat ride to Capri

There was a mad rush to get on to the boat.  Rooftop seating was already taken so I let everyone go in front of me.  I’ve officially lost my edge.  Wobbly tourists meandered about the boat with an intoxicated stager to shoot the perfect scenery.  No one (including myself) has their sea legs.  I haven’t had my old balance since my surgery.  I had the urge to water ski off the back of this boat.  It was a pretty decent size but the wake that it put out was perfect to weave in and out of.  I can’t wait to try it again -

Playlist: A selection of Radiohead, new and old.  Radiohead isn’t a frequent choice of mine but it came on during shuffle.  The eerie and whimsical chords matched the emotional context of the mountains.  Unspoiled splendor dotted with ancient civilizations turned modern, graced the cliffs.  It really puts things into perspective for me.  One human is nothing in this universe.

The weather was super hazy and hot.  It was still gorgeous and didn’t matter.  However, it did prevent the water from gleaming to it’s full potential.  As we headed west to Capri, there were multiple controlled burns that billowed into the landscape.  If I had to describe the landscape, it’s a mix of Ireland’s greenery (which I’ve never seen), the Palisade cliff’s ruggedness, the Oregon coastline, and St. Lucian blue green water.  

MORE PHALLIC SYMBOLS.

A nice elderly gentleman with a huge Nikon D300 asked me to snap a photo of him and his wife.  I took 3 and all were great.  I assumed he could reciprocate and handle my dinky D40 but he totally blew it.  No creative eye at all.  HA

We ended making friends with the couple.  They were on holiday from Canada and extremely pleasant to talk to.

When we reached Capri, we got a brief tour of the green and white grotto.  Our boat was way too large to explore the blue grotto.  I was OK with it.  The water was incredible and pictures can’t do this sight justice.  My camera conveniently decided to stop working just when we reached the more impressive green grotto.  What the heck!  I asked Mr. Canada to see if he could lend a helping hand and he admitted he knew nothing about photography...It worked shortly after.

Our next stop was this place:

We went under.  Faraglione di Mezzo.  As a kid, I always stared at it’s picture at my grandma’s house.  Gram, I made it!!  Wish you were here with me :(

On arrival, we “docked.”  This involved nosing into a cemented area and briskly walking down a moving plank.  The young handled it well, but it proved to be quite a challenge for the elderly.  There were a few restaurants and a rocky beach but we went for a hike up the mountain.  The flowers were beautiful; succulents, the weird ones I don’t know the names of, lemon trees.

We explored an awesome winding pathway that over looked the coast.  We were in beach mode considering we were both dripping with sweat.  This was no simple hike!  I like to think both of us are in pretty good shape despite all the delicious food we’ve been consuming.  We found a beach that was down about 150 steps.  It was private and cost about 10 euros for a beach chair.  We both decided that was ridiculous and were forced to trek back up.  Shit.  We were exhausted. 

After going back and forth what to do, it was recommended to us that we explore Annacapri, the other side of the island.  I hailed a cab in the middle of the street.  Finally a familiarity!  This taxi was well worth the money. 

It looked like a convertible hearse with a linen sun cover.  Our driver was considerate of tourism and stopped and showed us a few panoramic sites.  Breathtaking, but nothing compared to what was next.  When we got to Annacapri, we found this personal tram that takes you - to somewhere.  Neither of knew, but there was a round trip ticket and a one way...

The security on this thing was a single bar, hardly to the standards of Six Flags.  The views were breathtaking.  A whole overview of the island.  We still didn’t know where it was going until we reached the summit of the island.  This place is single handedly the most beautiful place that I’ve ever been.  It was a 360 degree view of life itself.  There was a trail that went down and if I wasn’t wearing my JCrew strappy sandals that were prone to skidding, I would have hiked a bit.                                       




    


After determining that this was our favorite place, we tore ourselves away and headed back down the mountain. 

We found the most amazing hand crafted sandal store.  We were both ecstatic about this find.  The shop keeper was ... friendly and gave us some good prices.  I told him I’d make him famous in New York.  Haha, sucker.  However there was one time that I was at Henry Bendell’s on 5th and their was a custom shoe maker there.  Maybe one day.  Career: Importer of shoe craftsmen?    

website: sandaloocaprese.it 

We found our way to a tucked away trattoria with a garden.  GREAT atmosphere and food.  We were pretty much the only people in there and the staff was extremely friendly.  I’m so impressed with my pronunciations and ordering abilities.  Kelly ordered pasta with clams and I got some sea creature meal with pasta.  Both looked like they were prepared in the same sauce.  Here’s a before and after picture:

Before 

and 

After 

We waited a very long time for the bus that never came so we took a cab back to Marina Piccola.  We parked ourselves on the rocky beached filled with Americans and tourists.  SHUT UP.  Stop living the stereotype.  They were loud, obnoxious, self conscious, and uneasy walking on the stones.  I napped, played, found some great sea glass, and jumped off a rock.  Hurray for fun!

The water was great, but salty.  It wasn’t unbearable to hang on the rocks.  They just left imprints on your body that subsided quickly.

When waiting for the boat, there was another mad rush.  I cracked a few jokes and the people were unhumoured.  They must have all been French.  Bastards.  The return trip home was great.  We had a litre of pinot grigio from the wine store in Venice.  We shared it and joked. 

Ciao Capri!