5 Planes is Never Too Many

Ciao!
So my weekend in Florence turned out to be absolutely AMA but the day of travel was pretty much the day from hell.

Series of Unfortunate Events:
I woke up in the morning and I did NOT feel like P-Diddy. It was 8:30 am and I was tired. I woke up a few minutes earlier than usual to look over the notes for my presentation that I would be giving at 10:30am in Business Ethics. I was feeling pretty confident, and hoped that my Dutch and Chinese group members felt the same way when they arrived at our one building of a school. I saved the most updated Powerpoint on a flash drive and secured it safely in a zipper pocket in my purse. My backpack for Florence was all packed, passport in wallet, and all other necessary items so I could head to the airport directly from school. I couldn’t have been more prepared.
Jaclyn and I left a few minutes earlier to make sure we arrived to class spiffy and on time. This meant leaving at 9:30am instead of 9:35am which got us to our classroom by 10:20am. My two group mates and I sat anxiously in the classroom awaiting the arrival of our teacher. My flash drive gripped in hand ready to clip right into her little computer that she brings every single day to class to present us with PowerPoint’s on the projector. Out of the ten or so groups in our class, we would be the first out of everyone to present for the month.

10:30 am on the dot she enters the classroom, calls our names, and expresses she is ready for us to go. But wait – there is no computer in her hand. Did she forget it? Is it hiding under the desk? Is it wearing an invisibility cloak? No to all of the above. Apparently if we were going to use any sort of media, we should have informed her BEFOREHAND and she would have either brought her computer with her, or suggested we bring our own. Well, you never told us that miss. Blank stares are going all around and of course the rest of our classroom is unprepared as well so no one has any sort of laptop or hookup. This leads us to frantically run downstairs to the library, which is constantly crowded with Dutch students hogging the computers to check out their new mates on Facebook and we get dizzy trying to find a free computer. Finally, we find a free computer and upload our PowerPoint so we can print it since none of us actually memorized what we were going to say. The first two attachments don’t download, and finally after we are already holding the class up about 15 minutes, we find the correct document and print out the slides. I wipe the beads of sweat dripping from my brow and boldly introduce the presentation about the Toyota Recall.

I spoke loudly, I spoke clearly, I spoke English, I made eye contact, I didn’t read straight from the (printed) slides, I made the crowd laugh, and I most importantly was informative. My Dutch teammate spoke softly and read directly off the slides and my Chinese teammate spoke in slow scattered English. At the end of the presentation, our teacher graded us out loud in front of the entire class. As a group, we received a 7/10 (which is actually a decent grade in the Netherlands). She then persisted to look at each of us and let us know our personal presentation grades. She pointed to me and said I received a 7. At times I ‘spoke too fast’ and since ‘English is my first language I should speak it being aware that not everyone’s native language in the classroom is English.’

WHAT?

You teach the class IN English. We are all supposed to present IN English.

Oliver, my Chinese teammate receives an 8 for his presentation grade because he spoke slower…
…
So pretty much I was punished for speaking perfectly good English rather than inserting a lot of ‘likes’ and ‘ums’ in order to scatter my flowing natural language. I guess I should have given the presentation in Spanish and then I would have received a 10 for using improper conjugations and misusing words.

As you can tell I am bitter. I did talk to her after class but her reaction remained the same. U G H
Well, at least I was off to Florence! Right!? Just two simple short flights and I should arrive by approx. 7 p.m. and giving my lovely Christine a hug by 8.

The one smooth part of my day was getting to the airport from school. The train to the airport came right away and I was checked in with more than enough time for my 2:50pm flight! Unfortunately, my flight was delayed until 3:15, but I figured that was still more than enough time to get to Zurich for my connecting flight. Plus – the connecting flight to Florence will probably have a small delay too so I only arrive a little later to Florence.

Soon enough, it’s 3:10 and we still haven’t boarded. Only then do I realize our flight is actually delayed another HOUR until 4:15. Oy vey. For some reason, I still think everything will be fine and I’ll hop right on my plane in Zurich. Finally we take off and the flight lasts a short 40 minutes. We landed in Zurich only 15 minutes before my flight was originally supposed to take off, and I still assumed it would be delayed. After speed walking to the transfer desk in Zurich, I am unfortunately informed that I will not be able to make my flight as the original time stayed the same. Also, there are no more direct flights to Florence – AWESOME!!! As I am breathing deeply and trying not to scream at the rude lady who tells me this, I ask her in the nicest way possible: ‘well what the hell am I supposed to do?’

“Well, we can put you on a flight to Frankfurt and then from Frankfurt you can fly to Florence. “
I tell you, zig-zagging across Europe on budget planes is going to be my new hobby. I only let one measly tear get right beneath my right eye and pinched myself to grow up. I guess I was just lonely and wanted to see my friends! Luckily, the lady who actually printed out my tickets was a bit nicer and got me on an earlier flight to Frankfurt so I had more time in between my flights to have a cocktail. I sprinted down those cool moving sidewalks and was sufficiently sweating when I finally got my seat on the second plane of the night. I drank my free wine and then enjoyed a nice cocktail when I was jotting around in Frankfurt airport. Finally at 9:00, I boarded my plane to Florence. By this point I could hardly hear anything because my ears wouldn’t stop popping from the constant take-off and landing. Finally around 10:30 pm, the wheels on the plane made contact with the runway in good ol’ fashion Firenze. My Italian blood pumped a little harder and I knew I was home.

TG for a BB. (Thank God for a Black Berry) I hopped in a taxi and bbmed a few Loyola peeps to see where everyone was. The taxi dropped me off in front of a lonely door that apparently housed the hostel I was staying in. Luckily, the duomo was in clear eyesight. I threw my stuff on an empty bed, changed my travel outfit, spruced up my face, and ventured to meet a bar full of Loyola students.

Eureka!


Christine and I embraced in a long squishy hug…. I continued to catch up in some hugs and kisses with some other Loyola pals including the lovely miss Kaela Keyes! Christine was a little tired from too much hugging so went back to her home stay before the rest of us ventured on the club. Kaela and I danced the night away with the Saxophonist on the stage. As the night was winding down, I found Brendan so we could walk back to our hostel with the Jacuzzi since everyone else was staying in ‘Hotel California’ – a really classy establishment. I saw a large dome in the night sky and assumed it was the main duomo so I led Brendan in that direction insisting it was the right way to our hostel. Well, let’s just say we took a little detour. We enjoyed some early morning shopping on the ponte vecchio, did some touring of the palazzo de vecchio, and watched the fake David being moved at 5:30 am in front of the duomo.
Still a little shaky on Saturday morning from all the redbull the night before, we thought it was a great idea to climb the duomo! Success – we all made it without getting sick and got a lovely view of the city. The rest of the day consisted with a lot of walking and some more sight seeing. Saturday night was great again!

Christine, Brendan, JD, Chris and myself enjoyed some quality time at a lovely restaurant called Mamma Mia. My Gnocchi was absolutely delicious and my stomach just grumbled thinking about it. After a few glasses of vino, we moved on to the next bar to reunite with the rest of the Loyola crowd. We all enjoyed our three drinks for ten euro at Bigallo and next went to the Red Garter. Margaret is so used to taking shopping carts to the clubs in Paris so she was extra excited when she saw one on the streets of Florence! Needless to say, she arrived quickest to the bar as we all walked slowly behind the speeding four-wheeled crate.



After some popcorn wars and some good laughs, I found Brendan sitting in his reflection at Santa Croce. We missed the ponte vecchio so much that we decided to walk back and meet some of his friends. Brendan’s friends thought I was the bomb – just because I studied in Amsterdam. They persisted to claim that they were coming to visit me this weekend because they loved it so much. They haven’t contacted me yet though – maybe they’re just last minute kind of guys.
Back to sleep in the hostel by 6 am, Sunday was enjoyed by some more touring of Florence. Although most of the Loyola crowd departed the Italian city, I was there to stay for one more day! On Sunday night, Christine’s host nona Silva invited me over for a home cooked Italian meal. If you read my blog post below, you can imagine that the meal was VERY similar to those I experienced in Italy in August. I was stuffed but fully satisfied by the end of my meal. Since my hostel was now emptied out for the weekend, Christine was kind enough to stay with my on Sunday night so I wasn’t completely alone. We enjoyed an American breakfast on Monday morning before I was headed back to the Dam. After we scarfed down our bacon, egg, and cheese’s, we met Kaela and Margaret for a quick goodbye hug then sent me on my way to the airport.


This time, I actually had no delays. I made it safe and sound to Amsterdam by 7 p.m. Carpe Diem!

This weekend will be just as fun – the small apartment I live in here in Amsterdam will be crowded with 8 people. Look forward to some stories to come!

Italian Indulgences

For my online Travel Reporting class I decided to submit an article about Food and Travel. Some of you might know that I spent some time in Italy before I arrived in Amsterdam, so if anyone is interested in my experiences with food, here is my story!


Italian Indulgences

As the plane accelerated down the runway on its way to take-off for Genoa, Italy, the only thing stuck in my mind was the results I ‘Googled’ about the city before traveling. The culinary specialty of the city of Genoa, known is Genova to Italians, is pesto. Pesto, which is a mixture of basil, garlic, and olive oil, is one of my all time favorite additions to any pasta, sandwich, or salad. My trip to Italy would in no way, shape, or form be the beginning of my ‘diet’ and ‘eating healthy’ phase. I knew that most Italian cities are revolved around food, but the amount of bread, cheese, and pasta that I was about to consume during this 10-day expedition was incomprehensible. As a pure bred Italian, I knew that staying with my friend Jaclyn’s Italian family meant not only getting in touch with my roots, but getting in touch with endless courses of food.

As we exited the plane and collected our baggage, we entered the small one terminal airport in Genoa to wait for Jaclyn’s cousins to pick us up from the airport. It had been almost 10 years since Jaclyn last saw them so she was worried she might not recognize them and vice versa. I assured her not to worry because it is kind of hard to forget her bright red banana curly hair. Sure enough, moments later a short Italian man with glasses – Paulo – and a slightly taller one with aviators tucked in his button down – Maximiliano – approaches us and yelled out “JACLYN” in a cheerful Italian accent. After some cheek kisses and introductions, the next five questions were: Have you eaten? Are you hungry? When was the last meal you had? Did they feed you on the plane? Do you want to have some dinner? Truthfully, we were both very hungry and accepted their offer for dinner.

Although Paolo and Maximiliano were fluent in their English expressions regarding food, the car ride to the restaurant at the beach club was a little more painful because some of their English was scattered and hard to understand. Once we arrived to the restaurant at around midnight, everyone was greeted with a glass of white wine and a large basket of bread.

“What do you like eat? Meat? Seafood? Pasta? What you like?”

Personally, my taste buds are quite extensive and I enjoy most foods, but since we were dining on the sea with the sound of crashing waves in the background, Jaclyn and I agreed on seafood. When we expressed our decision for the meal, we figured we’d each be given one dish of whatever the catch of the day was and call it a night. This, however, was not the case. The amount of different seafood dishes that were delivered to the table that night was too high to keep count of. The waitress first brought several dishes to the table that I recognized. These dishes included Seafood Paella, Mussels, Clams, Calamari, and Salmon. To say I was full after these dishes was an understatement. Even though each dish was served family style, if I didn’t put a significant amount on my dish, it was almost seen as an insult.

“Try this! It’s good! Eat this! Try that one!”

I let out a sigh, sat back in my chair, and rested my hands on my stomach thinking the food had stopped coming. I was wrong. Seconds later the waitress returned with about 8 more steaming dishes. This time I didn’t recognize all of the dishes. Some were served in clamshells, others I was informed were octopus or maybe even fish eggs. Needless to say, my willingness to try things really came in handy. Each dish ended up being tastier than the one before it, even if it was in fact some unknown seafood that I don’t regularly consume. After a few bites of dessert, it was finally acceptable to be stuffed.

Welcome to Italy, I thought.

How my stomach would handle 10 days of overeating, I was unsure of. The test would come two days later for our next extravagant meal. Since our first Italian dinner experience was enjoyed at a restaurant, it was time for a real cultural encounter by dining in an Italian home. Christina, Jaclyn’s older cousin, was kind enough to have us over for dinner. My stereotype of typical home cooked Italian meals was confirmed after this meal.

After a little attempted small talk in forced English with Christina’s husband, daughter, and Jaclyn’s cousin Paulo, it was time to sit for dinner. After the dinner a few nights earlier, my stomach was a little more prepared to stretch out and I felt completely ready to conquer the food that was about to be placed in front of me.

We sat down at the table, decorated with a plastic tablecloth, and pushed our wooden chairs closer to initiate that we were ready to dig in. A variety of drinks were out on the table, including red wine, Fanta, water, and Coca Cola. Settling with water, I took a large gulp to clear my taste buds and prepare for the flavors that were about to come. First came the bread. This was no ordinary bread, however, it was a delicious loaf of fresh baked oily Focaccia. Unfortunately, growing up I have never been able to resist the bread at dinner. My impulses always overcome me and I devoured two pieces of the bread quickly, leaving oily stains on my fingers and napkin. I pinched myself for letting my hunger get to me because I knew in about 20 minutes, I’d have wished I left that room in my stomach for something I would be nearly forced to eat.

Next course: Salad. In the center of the table was a simple mixed green salad with onions and tomatoes. In addition to this salad, each person was served their own personal plate of Mozzarella, Tomato, and Basil salad with oil and vinegar drizzled over the fresh ingredients. I’ve tasted fresh Caprese salads at home, but the moist mozzarella and ripe tomatoes that I was indulging in were so delicious that my plate was wiped clean in a matter of two minutes. Within the same time period, everyone else’s dishes were clean as well. As the woman of the house, Christina was constantly up out of her seat clearing dishes and cleaning in preparation for the next course. When Jaclyn and I offered to help her, she immediately denied our request and enjoyed the role she most likely took on every day of her life.

A minute later, bowls of steaming pasta were all placed in front of us. I couldn’t help but notice the pasta maker on the kitchen counter that I later learned was in fact used to make all of the pasta they consume at home. The homemade pasta we were about to enjoy is exactly what I had been waiting for – Pesto Pasta! The colorful green and yellow cheese tortellini pasta was drizzled in delicious olive color pesto that smelled just as good as it tasted. The pasta was cooked just right and the flavor of the pasta went together perfectly with Genoa’s own pesto sauce.

Just starting to feel full, I knew I had to keep trucking. Drum roll for the next course that is truly everything that an Italian meal stands for: Prosciutto and Melon. The melon was cut in perfect crescent moon shaped slices projecting a crisp orange color of ripeness. A plate of thin slices of prosciutto was passed around, followed by the plate of melon. I have never actually attempted to eat this traditional course, so I was a little nervous and observed the others on how exactly they cut the melon and meat and put them together on the fork. The prosciutto was a little difficult to cut but once I got a decent sized piece, I forked it with a nice square of melon. My tongue was a little confused when experiencing the mixture of savory and fruity flavors. The textures of the meat and fruit are also quite different so it was an interesting chew. Although this wasn’t my favorite part of the meal, per se, I did my best to consume an acceptable amount. Making up the excuse that I was a vegetarian would not have helped either because how could you be a true Italian and not eat meat?

The meal was finally winding down and it was time for something… or some things sweet. The first dessert course was a bowl of cut up peaches drenched in sugar and sweet liquor. The crunchiness of the sugar and smoothness of the peaches was exactly what I needed to sweeten my stomach. Once the big bowl of fruit was devoured, it was clearly time for gelato. How could you not enjoy the creamy ice after a long Italian meal? Presented with four flavors, my palate decided on the two chocolaty flavors rather than the fruity flavors. Of course Christina tried to serve me the fruity flavors after the chocolaty ones, insisting I needed to try them all, but I politely refused and told her my stomach couldn’t handle any more.

After coffee, which in Italy is actually equivalent to a thimble full of espresso, I could hardly move. We sat around for a while at the table and my brain hurt from trying to comprehend all of the Italian phrases that were going back and forth. The night was aging and eventually Jaclyn and I said goodnight and headed back to where we were staying. On the car ride back, I was suffering a few stomach pains but all I could think about was how deliciously cultural our meal was.

Over the next week or so of our time in Italy, there were several other meals just as fully loaded. The wine, pasta, bread, and pizza may have made my pants and shirts a little tighter than usual for a while, but the experience of true Italian food is a weight that will stay.

Beef Stew for Breakfast?

A wise man once said: “Snap back to reality, oh there goes gravity.” Unfortunately today when I boarded my 6:10 AM flight from Cork to Amsterdam, Eminem’s poetic words popped into my head. After traveling for 18 straight days, returning to Amsterdam for a quick lunch break and recess time, then heading to Cork for a long weekend, my weary eyes almost shed tears when I looked at my to do list. I zombied through Schipol Airport and made my way back to my apartment only to realize I could only go back to bed for 20 minutes until I had to make the 50 minute commute to school to meet for a group project which would be followed by an hour and a half of Dutch nonsense. I’ve been sitting in Dutch class for almost three months now and still can only say ‘Hallo, war ja me drinken?’ (Hello, are you coming drinking?)

Turning behind the clock a little (which we all recently had to do), I’ll go back to a few of my trips for a quick overview.

Barcelona! I couldn’t have had a better weekend with three of my best friends from home. Taylor and Kacie who have the luck and joy of studying in Barcelona, were great hosts to Christine and I who crashed in their residencia for the weekend. We had our touristy fun and went to the bar Chupitos where you can enjoy 2 euro shots of all shapes and sizes. In a previous blog post I expressed that shots on fire weren’t exactly my thing, but after drinking multiple Harry Potter shots which were steaming hot, I might have changed my mind a little. As these shots were lit on fire, I couldn’t help but think of my favorite scene from the movie Cast Away. “LOOK WHAT I HAVE CREATED! I HAVE MADE FIRE!”

We enjoyed the club scene at Opium and Raz Ma Taz – some of my dance moves were stellar and it must have been all the smoke in the air. Well, I thought they were stellar until the friends of my friends made a comment along the lines of “your friends are crazy.” My Lady GaGa robot moves apparently just didn’t cut it. Oh well, I had fun and GaGa would approve. Christine only took two quick cat naps – one standing up in the street, and one in the cab on the way to the club. A real trooper. Things I learned in Barcelona: Gaudi is a true mastermind, not 1, not 2, but 3 showers might take the smell of smoke out of your hair, and I’m swift because I didn’t get pick pocketed.

Budapest and Vienna! We were off to a great start when Kristina showed up just on time for our flight and Mara full out MISSED it. Nice. Stayed in a cold hostel the first night, woke up shivering and Kristina and I went out for a little touring. After a nice trip to the indoor market and a climb up to the Citadel, we headed back on time to meet a phoneless Mara at the metro station. SHE MADE IT! We lugged our suitcases to the next hostel of choice, which turned out to be cozier than the first. Mara thought it was cute to wear matching gloves and a matching dress – she failed to realize, however, that she looked like a huge tool. I had my fun. I also made fun of Mara and Kristina for ordering the most touristy thing on the menu at a Hungarian restaurant: Mozzerella and Tomato Salad. However, the fun was poked back at me when we realized I woke up… and had beef stew. That night, we trained to Vienna and were relieved and tired when we found our 3^rd hostel of the trip. This time, I woke up and had weiner schnitzel. I am really trying to get the full taste of all of the cities I visit. You’re all probably thinking I should start switching to salads after those hefty meals.

After our quick trip to Vienna we ventured back to Budapest 2 nights later to stay in our 4^th hostel. This one was the coziest. The best part of our last few days in Budapest: The Baths. Kristina, Mara and I all enjoyed a nice hot thermal bath at one of the most popular bath houses in Budapest. It was outdoors, so you’re feet froze on the walk to the water, but once you slid in the massive hot tub, it was like heaven. The worst part of our trip: sitting in a coffee shop realizing that Loyola did not register me for classes when they should have. I was furious and proceeded to send a nasty email to our abroad coordinator only to receive a ‘You Got PWNED’ email back with the attachment of the wrong waiver I filled out. Oops. I made Mara and Kristina speed walk back to the hostel with me and I frantically registered myself for classes. In the end, I was able to register for 4/5 of my originals! Hip Hip Hooray!

Ireland! On Friday night I was greeted in lovely cork by my friends Madeleine, Brendan, Colleen, and Bridgid! Mad made the trip all the way from Firenze just to be in Ireland for a short trip, but well worth it. Since the night was upon us, we went to the girl’s room for a fun pregame including lots a Bulmers. We walked to the pub under the Irish sky and cool Cork breeze. Madeleine ordered a Guinness and I think she actually agreed with Brendan’s description of it tasting like “chocolate mElk”. After Colleen and Brendan danced with themselves in the mirror for a while, we proceeded to a club down the street. After a successful night of dancing, we headed on home to merely take a nap because the rooster (aka Mad) woke B and I up around 9 am. “WAKE UP TOE! WE GOTTA GO MAKE OUT WITH THAT STONE!” Ambitious. After we hit snooze for an hour, we made our way to the bus to venture to the Blarney Castle. We hiked our way to the top and leaned back to give the Blarney Stone a nice peck. The ladies in front of us wanted to give it a little more than a peck… but either way we all received our eloquence.

The three of us explored the castles ground and discovered some interesting caves and witches kitchens. Mad and B attempted to climb a rock we thought resembled Pride Rock but unfortunately Brendan’s Sperry’s were run down of their grip. Later on, a group of us ventured to Kinsale, a lovely port town where we enjoyed a delicious meal. This time I avoided the beef stew or schnitzel and enjoyed some fresh white fish. YUM. After an attempt at a cat nap on the bus on the way back to Cork, we began the festivities for another night out. I had the fortunate opportunity to meet Mr. Patty G’s parents and we shared a Banana tasting beer together. After parting ways with the Ginley’s, Mad, Pat, B and I met up with everyone else. Pat enjoyed a nice seat on the stage for the night while Mad and I danced away. I tried to teach Kara how to get low, but B and I are apparently the masters. After some Burritos on the walk back, it was time for bed. Mad woke up bright and early to head out on her 24-hour adventure back to Florence while the rest of us enjoyed a nice sleep. Sunday was movie night! We all laughed our asses off as we attended Jackass 3D. Some good craic (fun, as I learned from Brendan). By Monday, I was almost a part of the Cork family. I checked out the UCC campus and even did a little work in the library! Impressive! Later on, I was invited to have dinner with Father Linane, the President of Loyola, and the other 20 somewhat students studying at Cork. Although I felt like an intruder, it was quite luxurious to enjoy a gourmet meal at a fancy hotel restaurant on the tab of Loyola, especially since the Amsterdam program doesn’t do anything for us. I’m now running off… zero hours of sleep so that’s all for now, Folks.