A Stupendous Saturday

            Today I felt like I had a seriously Dublin day. I woke up to the sun shining in an almost cloudless blue sky, which of course thrilled me beyond belief. (I guess that’s not really typical Dublin, but it was still awesome.) Some friends and I had discussed going to some museums around town, but decided instead to find a place to do work outside so we could enjoy the glorious weather. St Stephens Green at the head of Grafton Street was filled with all sorts of people enjoying the sunny Saturday. We walked around, then sat on a bench and did “work” for a while (Janet Evanovich anyone?). It was still kind of chilly, so after a bit we walked into the mall to get lunch and warm up. After a delicious, relaxing lunch, we headed home down Grafton. Street performers are a staple of Grafton, and often you’ll see a crowd of people surrounding a particularly good act. I don’t know what it was about today, but it just kept getting better. We stopped in a large group of people to listen to this folk/reggae/rock Irish band. We ended up buying their CD, and are probably going to a show dowtown this Thursday. White people love Indie music, so how could we not go?! You may be wondering why this qualifies as a “seriously Dublin day”, and maybe you just had to be here. There was just something about wandering around and enjoying the fantastic Saturday. As we walked home in the fading light through Front Square and past the Campanile, I just fell in love with being here all over again, and I can’t imagine spending this term anywhere else.

PS  For anyone who’s interested, the band is Mutefish.

http://www.myspace.com/nonstopmutefishdance

Italy Part II: The Best Laid Plans

            So I guess I didn’t quite get this post up as promised later in the week. What can I say, I’m in Dublin and things come up. I have a ton of homework I need to get done now though, which makes it a perfect time to update my blog.

Emma’s Italian Adventure

            I met Emily at the train station in Genova, and then we took a train to Varazze where her cousin picked us up. It was pretty late by this point, so we ate dinner and then headed home to sleep. The plan was to wake up early the next morning (Saturday) and head to the mountains in time to go snowboarding the next day (white people love snowboarding), followed by an event/party that night. The next day we’d drive back to Varazze where I’d catch a train back to Milan to be ready for my flight early Monday morning. You’re probably admiring the brilliant plan at this point. What can I say, Emily and I are awesome planners. And, in our typical perfect fashion, we executed this plan flawlessly. Guess I’m done writing about Italy.

            Oh wait…

            That whole “early start” thing was the first little glitch. Get us up and dressed and fed, pack everything together, gather our other travel companions and it was close to noon by the time we got to the resort. No problem though, it would just be shorter day.

We arrived at the resort and were greeted by falling snow and minimal visibility. In short, it was close to a white out. After some debate, we decided to abandon our adventure plans and opt for lunch instead. Hey, at least we still had that night to look forward too.

            Emily and I were staying about a half an hour away from the resort, so we took a bus down the hill to take a quick nap and then change for that night. We had everything we needed for the party: our shuttle passes to get back up the hill, tickets into the event, and even a pass for our first drinks. Life was looking good.

            We were in the hotel lobby that night rested and ready to go. Some other people were there as well, also waiting for the shuttle. We were told it had just left, but would be back before too long. No big, it was early and we didn’t mind waiting. We even found a couple of Italians who spoke English pretty well, so I was set. We sat down with our new friends to wait for the shuttle.

            And then we waited.

            And then we waited some more.

            And then we called the shuttle driver to check when he would be back, and he hung up on us.

            Okay…

            I won’t bore you with the details, but no one from our hotel made it up to the party that night. The snowstorm kept us all grounded. So Emily and I went sulking back to our room where we remained angry and bitter all night for having our plans ruined. The end.

           

            That also would be false. Who cares if things didn’t go according to plans? I was with my best friend in Italy! We were in a gorgeous mountain town in the middle of a snowstorm with new friends! And we were going to enjoy that night!!!

We had dinner at a pizza place next door, and then hung around chatting with our new friends and sharing our vast knowledge of English idioms. I had no idea how fantastic a phrase “Keep an eye on it” is, but apparently it’s awesome.

The next day was similar conditions, but Emily and I decided to brave the weather and snowboard anyway. The shuttle once again wasn’t running, so we hitched a ride with a man and his 5-year-old son. We could barely see and were forced to stay on the same run, but we had a blast. Honestly, how could I not being in Italy, snowboarding in fresh powder with my best friend?

The moral of this story? When life gives you lemons, make lemonade.

And when the going gets tough, the tough makes lemonade!

And for all of you who didn’t get that last reference, buy some jerkin orange clothes and go watch Josie and the Pussycats.

Getting to Italy: The Longest Day

January 28, 2011

This entry was written longhand while I was on the train from Milan to Genova during my weekend in Italy. More will come later about the trip following this introductory travel, but it deserves a post on its own.

            Today will be, as of yet, my longest day. If I count my flight to Dublin, then I guess today may only be second place, but it’s my life and I choose this as #1 since it was more continuous and (dare I say) epic than getting to Dublin.

            Today I’m traveling to Italy to see Emily V. My day began at 2:55 am after a refreshing 2 hours (or less) of sleep. It began with me wandering around Dublin, trying to find the Aircoach bus stop. (Thank you Aircoach website for being completely useless.) Along the course of my walk I wandered down to Grafton Street where I not only saw a bunch of drunken people climbing up to pose for a picture on/with Molly Malone, but also heard two Irish guys singing the Molly Malone song as they weaved by. The song transported me back to freshman year English with Huth and couldn’t help but laugh.

            I eventually found the bus stop and was relieved to learn that I hadn’t missed the bus that hour. I got to Dublin Airport and made it to London with no trouble. After a long (make that L-O-N-G) layover in London-Stansted, I queued up for my flight to Milan-Bergamo.

            A quick side note about the flight to London. I was early enough to get a window seat on my Ryanair flight and was asleep before the plane even took off. When I awoke, the sun was just beginning to rise in the blue sky over a fluffy frosting of clouds. The guy sitting in the aisle seat leaned over to take pictures of clouds. I can confidently say I have never seen (and don’t think I could ever again see) anyone get so excited about clouds. He repeatedly informed me that he loved clouds. Over and over and over again.

            “Look at these clouds.” (iPhone picture)

“I just love clouds.” (picture picture)

“Those are just great clouds, can you believe it?” (picture picture picture)

            Now, back to the London airport.

            As we’re standing in the queue I start talking with the woman in front of me. She’s headed to Milan for the weekend to visit her parents. I tell her about meeting a friend in Genoa and the different modes of transportation I have to take to get there. I think it was about this moment that she transformed into my Hero of the Day. She too had to go to the train station. I half-jokingly said I would just have to stay near her to get to the right place, and that’s just what I did.

            We sat next to each other on the plane (I had the window seat again; yay more naps!) where I was immediately struck by a horrible coughing fit. I could barely breath I was trying so hard not to cough (unsuccessfully I might add). If I had been sitting next to me, I probably would’ve glared at myself and resented the jerk spreading germs. Luckily for me, she only seemed concerned, rather than attempting to run away from the crazy infected girl.

            I fell asleep again. When I opened my eyes this time I was greeted by the sight of jagged peaks dusted with pristine white snow: my first glimpse of the Alps.

            It quite literally took my breath away, and I could only stare in awe for the final 15 minutes of the flight. Meanwhile, my seatmate told me about her trip taking a train through the peaks, and the history of a certain peak that had claimed so many lives before the current road was completed.

            We landed and deplaned, and I followed her to a shuttle bus, chatting about travel and such. She asked around to find the correct bus (in Italian of course) and even lowered my ticket price by combining it with hers. I think I owed her more than I paid, but she insisted it was fine.

            The ride between the airport and the train station was spent discussing education, comparing the health care systems of Italy, the UK and America (Italy wins, in case you were wondering) and talking more about travel. When we got to the train station, she led me to the ticket counter. The night before, Emily had taught me a key phrase to use when attempting to buy my train ticket. Instead, I had a personal guide to purchase the ticket, and I had to just pass over my card.

            I had about 25 minutes before my train left, so she took me to see the front of the train station. It was built during Italy’s Fascist period, and the emphases on masculinity and power are evident in the architecture. She then led me inside the train station and to my platform. It was only then that I learned her name: Valentina.

            I doubt I will ever see her again, but Valentina, who comes from outside Milan and has lived in London for the past 13 years and has an Australian boyfriend, was my hero today. I’m now on the train to Genova and will meet Emily at the station. Let my Italian adventure begin.

Stay tuned for the next installment of Emma’s Italian Adventure, coming to a computer near you later this week!