Face Lift

I missed the old title picture, so I brought that back and simplified the layout of the blog, because quite frankly it's finals week and simple things are much appreciated. I'm going to be updating the blog again this January when I travel to Joshua Tree, California for some much needed climbing and sun. In the meantime, a taste of winter in Canton, thanks to my beautiful new camera;

Dulli, my wonderful supervisor at the farm 

Birdsfoot is famous for their garlic

Garlic Knots with Birdsfoot garlic

Literary Harvest Lunch

Where am I now?

I'm in Massachusetts, weekending in the Cape, riding jet skis. 

Life is good.

Photo courtesy of Josh Jackson

Had to share this...

The mis-matching socks are what got me here...happens every time.

Ciao, ciao

Well, it looks like it might just be time for me to leave.

Tomorrow is my last day in Italy. Technically I leave Friday, but days spent on airplanes do not count as days.

Exams are done-wait, is it still an exam if you're drinking wine with it? Oh right, yes, this is Italy, and I was graded on how I drank that wine. Bags are packed, passport is located and ready to go. Flight is triple-checked, gluten-free meal is reserved. Last call for cheesy souvenir requests. Wine popener anyone?

Yesterday evening as a last hurrah my Tavel Writing class adventured to the Hotel Raphael, a beautiful, vine-covered hotel just off the far corner of Piazza Novona. We toasted the view from the rooftop bar with a bottle of prosecco, and watched those glorious twenty minutes when the last daylight turns Rome gold. A perfect sendoff, thank you Andi.

I suppose this is where I'm supposed to have some big, epitomizing thought to show how my semester abroad changed my life, but all that is coming to mind is how leaving the Eternal City feels a lot less like saying 'goodbye' and a lot more like saying 'see you later'. This is Rome. I am leaving it in good hands, hands that will still be gesturing wildly over their fifth espresso before noon when I return.

So in the words of Brad Pitt, arrivederci.

Oh yeah...

I can't believe I forgot to mention my trip to space before now. It was a little over-rated, to be honest. Everything looked almost fake. 

Abruzzo

Last Friday LdM went into the wild. We were told to prepare for hiking, cheese-making, and bears. Well, we walked quite a bit, but I wouldn't exactly call it hiking. The promise of cheese was more than fulfilled. Bears...we may have seen one. We definitely found some cows (jealous, Aunt Lynda?) Something about being in the countryside reverted us all back to children for the day-we frolicked, screamed at bugs, and ate sugar like it was our last day on earth. The weather was perfect, and I have the sunburns to prove it.

Overall, it was my favorite school trip. We walked through the beautiful national park to a cabin where we made ricotta, and had a dizzyingly good lunch of ravioli, salad, sausages, wine, and coffee, and ricotta with nutella for desert. We then all promptly passed out in the sunshine.

The water was lovely.

Although I love Rome, this trip reminded me how much I miss nature. Ancient ruins are nice and all, but give me any old mountain over the coliseum any day. Especially if I continue to stumble upon such great coffee in the middle of the woods. Flower child at heart for sure.

The South

A few weekends ago Liese and I visited Naples, and then we drove through it again two weeks ago on our way to the Amalfi Coast. Before I get to the rest of the trip, I would like to turn to my good friend Ross Geller to explain Naples for me:

"You know how you throw your jacket on the chair at the end of the day… like that, only instead of a chair it’s a pile of garbage, and instead of a jacket it’s a pile of garbage, and instead of the end of the day it's the end of time and garbage is all that has survived."


Yup, that pretty much sums up Naples.

On to the coast...

Well, I was going to write a lot about the coast but I don't think I can do it justice, so instead, photos-and lots of 'em!

This was the view from our hotel room. It reminded me of Spain so much it hurt.

The foggy weather was beautiful, not even a little depressing. It set a good mood for the area; nearby is supposedly where Ulysses sailed by the sirens-very mythical.

Oh, we also toured a pasta factory. Never fear, those are not my hands holding all that gluten. Gross.

Because it's not fast food. No really, that's it. The slow food movement was founded in response to the McDonalds put in at the bottom of the Spanish Steps. They are preserving the integrity of food-and my god are they doing it right.

Fratello

Things this photo should tell you:

1. Peter's here!

2. I need a hair cut

3. Ancient ruins are cool

Also the format for blogger has changed, so excuse me while I figure these new shenanigans out before posting any more. Only eleven days left in the boot, then back to the land of the free.

Jumping Off Bridges

Thanks to Kristina and Joerg, easily my favorite German couple ever, I can now show off how AWESOME jumping off bridges is. Dad, don't watch:

Click here to watch Kelly scream like a little girl!

Amici

The highlight of my week was definitely having my friend Hannah visit. She had been back-packing around for her break and finished her trip in Rome, and I can't express how glad I am that she did. Sometimes when it's early in the morning and I've just fought my way onto a metro packed tighter than a clown car only to realize I've gotten on it going in the wrong direction, it's easy to become a little disillusioned with Rome. But then an old friend like Hannah shows up, and you can't help but feed off their energy as they see the Coliseum for the first time, or experience a picnic in Borghese, or have their first glass of red wine-a moment I'm proud to say I was there for. My point is, nothing makes the eternal city seem brand new better than good company.

Also I went into the Coliseum and explored the forum for the first time-a little overdue, but worth the wait.

and that's Molly, another fantastic explorer (and totally a blonde).

Amsterdamsterdamsterdam

(All wonderful photo credit to Sage)

Last weekend was spent camping in Amsterdam. Amsterdam is a beautiful city, and with it's canals and beautiful houses it reminded me of a well-thought-out Venice. It was equally as easy to get lost in, however, mostly due to the fact that Dutch street names seem to shun vowels. It's hard to find your way when you're looking for Ghrrflnzmrt Street and find yourself on Grfhlmmtz instead.

Amsterdam was also the cleanest city I have yet to visit so far. Even the camping was cushy; we had wifi in our tent. Everyone was extremely pleasant, so long as we stayed out of the bike lanes. They do NOT kid around with their bikes in Amsterdam; there were easily more bicycles than cars on the street at any given moment. It's an environmentalists dream, and a great retreat from the vespas of Rome.

Overall a wonderful weekend get away in the sun, and here's the best part: I flew there and back, made every single flight, and didn't even throw up once! Excuse me, I have to go pat myself on the back.

When Life Gives You Lemons, Make Gelato

Last week four of us got a tour of Gelateria del Teatro, that great place we stumbled upon our first week here and have since made many visits to. The owner, Stefano, taught us everything we would ever want to know about artesian gelato. He uses only the best ingredients, all natural, and mostly from Italy. He experiments with flavors like white chocolate & basil, and succeeds to the highest degree. They make all their gelato daily, and get from 500-1,000 customers daily in their little shop tucked in an alley behind Piazza Navona. If you ever come to Rome, put this place on your list.

In the photo above we are holding lemons that later went into the lemon gelato-Stefano made us smell them to legitimatize their authenticity and quality. Stefano drilled into our heads the rules of natural gelato: banana gelato is brownish, lemon is white (as is mint), pistachio is brown-green (not bright green), and it shouldn't be puffy. Also it should taste so good it reminds you of springtime in your childhood. Just me?

Can't Sleep

I can't sleep tonight. Could be that I have a lot on my mind, could be the last month of my stay in Rome looming over my head, could be the little Italian woman yelling obscenities outside my window...either way, here's a bed time story:

Last Friday I got to visit another vineyard, in Lazio just an hour outside Rome, with my Wine & Culture class. It's still early spring here so the vines look more like dead branches clinging to posts than the future parents of some great wine, but the rest of the countryside is in full bloom. Wisteria grows all over the place here, giving both the city and the countryside a nice purple tint. The vineyard's wine cellar also houses the remains of an ancient aqueduct, and bottles of wine are stored in every nook and cranny the cellar has to offer. Aqua fa male, vino fa bene!

After our tour and a tasting the rest of the group went off in search of sandwiches. I hung back to take in some sun and ended up wandering into the main house of the vineyard in search of the bathroom. I had taken about two and a half steps into the house before a door at the end of the hall flung open and the enologist who had given our tour earlier beckoned me hastily into the dining room. I hesitantly followed him, until I saw the giant cake on the table and giddily waltzed in. It was a special easter cake, very traditional, and fifteen various Italians were all standing around in anticipation.

"Where are you from?" one asked me quizzically.

"New York," I answered. It must have been the right answer, because they immediately insisted that a New Yorker required champagne and began popping several bottles open, which they apologized for being French and not Italian. I can not explain the depth of my love for these people.

Once the champagne was open the room erupted into full Italian celebration mode. No cup, plate, or mouth is ever allowed to remain empty in such a scenario. I tried to explain that I can't eat cake because gluten and I tend not to get along but my enologist friend insisted that because it was Easter I would probably be fine. Logical enough for me, I happily accepted napkin-fulls of cake to munch on between sips of champagne. If Christ can resurrect from the dead, I can manage a little gluten.

Whoever these people were, and to be honest I did not catch many names, they were the nicest, friendliest, most wonderful people I have met so far in Italy. Only when one of my classmates was sent to look for me because everyone else was waiting on the bus would they allow me to be torn away from their celebrations.

Allora, bed time. I'm off to dream of cake and champagne, buonanotte!

Buona Pasqua!

If your Easter celebrations didn't involve champagne and sunshine, I'm truly sorry.

Put a dollop of nutella in my coffee this morning before my tour of a vineyard. Good morning, Italy.

Toscana

This past weekend we took a school trip into the Val d'Orcia in Tuscany to see the spring come in. Everything in Tuscany is currently that color between yellow and green, only interrupted by red poppies that grow everywhere around the small towns we visited. The Val d'Orcia is a UNESCO World Heritage site, essentially due to it's beauty and history of popping up in famous paintings.

Our first stop was the Tana Gatta vineyard in Montepulciano. The valley has become famous for it's sheep's cheese, among other fresh delicacies. We had a light lunch of the pecorino cheese and sausages made on the farm, followed by a pasta dish (yes, gluten free for me) and lots of their own wine. After lunch they showed us the giant barrels where the wines are aging, and the owner poured me a glass straight from the barrel.

We stayed the night in Pienza, a small commune famous as the birthplace of Pope Pius II, who transformed the small town into an experiment in renaissance architecture. The Duomo di Pienze, an imposing cathedral, was built right on the edge of the cliff that supports the town. It has ever since been slowly sliding down the cliff, and we walked inside to see the deep cracks forming in the floor and walls where bit by bit the choir is falling off from the rest of the church. It's funny how much of Italy is slowly falling down, sinking, or leaning over.

Sunday we traveled through Montepulciano and to the Bagno Vignoni, or hot baths. The baths are walled up inside private (and pricey) resorts now, but there is a small ditch that runs through the town and carries warm water over the cliff into the valley where anyone can dip their feet in. The water was dusty from chalk, and just luke-warm, but enjoyable.

Our last meal in Tuscany was at the Pulcino Winery. The owner, a man nicknamed Pulcino which translates roughly to 'little chicken' or 'chick', made his fortune selling fossils he found on his farm to wealthy Germans. He now owns a beautiful vineyard where they make amazing wine, and he hoards a collection of fossils (including mammoth teeth!) among his wines in the cellar. So if you'll excuse me, I'm off to dig around frantically for things that look old and important so I can start my own Tuscan vineyard.

Oh, Italy.

I Saw Nessie

First picture here is from inside the bathroom of The Elephant House, where J. K. Rowling wrote some of the Harry Potter Books. The rest of the walls inside the bathroom are covered with more Harry Potter graffiti, including a lot of thank you messages to Rowling. Bathroom art at its finest.

The next is Hannah with her spirit animal, the Highland Cow. Third and fourth are pictures from Loch Ness, a very mysterious place. I'm not saying I definitely saw Nessie, but there was an odd ripple in the middle of the lake at one point that didn't have a discernible origin...

Finally, a picture from the Highlands, one of the most beautiful places I have ever been. Hannah and I took a bus tour through the mountains up to Loch Ness, and received the bloodiest account of Scotland's history possible from our guide. I thought I was going to be sick from his account of William Wallace. It was awesome.

Venetian Justice

This is the Gobbo di Rialto. Not a looker, but my favorite statue in Venice for its history. Running up his hunchback is a staircase, and the top forms a platform from which Venetian officials used to announce the names of criminals in the 16th century. Petty offenders were stripped in San Marco, made to run through the streets naked over the Ponte Rialto and finally to the Gobbo. If they made it and kissed the Gobbo, they were pardoned for their crimes.

I'd like to know why this system was ever stopped.

Little Kelly, Grand Canal

Yes, Venezia, La Serenissima! I went with Holly, my partner in petty crime, and we spent the vast majority of our time getting lost, which was fine by us. This was my most anticipated trip, and I was not disappointed. Between bottles of wine canal-side, fish so fresh some of them were still jumping, and days spent alternatively falling asleep on docks and exploring the islands, I could not have asked for a better Spring Break. It would be impossible to recount everything, so instead here are some pictures: