freak out

So I think I just lost my titre de séjour, a document which I will need to obtain my carte de séjour to stay in the country through next semester. Thus, I am freaking out.

how to suck at blogging

a) don't post during the most interesting week you've had in months
b) don't upload pictures, even if you have them
c) spend the whole day trying to stream gossip girl instead of posting
d) make a dumb ass list about why you suck instead of writing about your awesome week

thanksgiving à la française

So, before I went on my long homesick rant last week, I had no idea Thanksgiving away from home could be so good. I realized that this is, in fact, my first Thanksgiving away from home in New York -- because we always have the holiday off from school, and it's always too short to travel anywhere, so this is actually a big milestone for me. i was a little bummed that there would be no turkey or mashed potatoes or apple pie involved, but was determined to make the most of it and ended up organizing a dinner with an American friend of mine at school. We invited a motley group of friends - a Canadian, two Japanese girls, and three French students. I went grocery shopping after class today to pick up ingredients for a cranberry-corn bread side dish and a chocolate tart dessert. While I was pretty panicky during the preparation period (especially since I couldn't figure out how to use the oven) everything turned out great in the end -- the company was good, the cider was just the right touch alcoholic, and the food was delicious. My American friend is vegetarian, so we were turkey-less, but she made a delicious pumpkin soup, stove top stuffing and mashed sweet potato. And we got to explain the holiday to our international guests which made it all the more special.

And after getting off the phone with my parents, I realized how disappointed I would have been to be home where they're eating a pre-prepared meal ordered off the internet. I've complained endlessly about how my parents do that. And it's not that I don't miss my parents or being home on this holiday of holidays, but I now know that it doesn't have to be so terrible.

But my mother nearly forgot to mention that she and my dad got tickets to watch the Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade from the ABC studios in Times Square. There's my mom for you.

Tomorrow I leave for Nice to visit my Georgetown friend Kristin, where another Thanksgiving feast will be had. But I can't be prouder of the event that I helped organize tonight and how wonderful my Thanksgiving turned out to be.

villeurbanne short film festival

Got my film festival quota in yesterday with a screening of four short films in the Francophone Competition category at the Villeurbanne Short Film Festival. Every time I've heard French people talking about Villeurbanne, it's with an air similar to that which New Yorkers might talk about the South Bronx - far away, dangerous, and not really part of the city. Turns out that it's actually about 10 minutes away from the Hôtel de Ville by Metro and home to an indie movie theater. I didn't get a chance to walk around to much because I didn't know the area, but I wonder if there are other treasures to be found in that scrummiest of suburbs (pretty sure I made that word up)...

what a beaujo-day

Wow. I'm officially a blogger now that I'm using ridiculous play-on-words for entry titles.

Yesterday at midnight was the release of the Beaujolais Nouveau, an event celebrated with a countdown, much like New Years (countdown to midnight, etc). I decided to stay here in the city instead of going out to the wine country with a group organized by the university. The crowd was absolutely crazy -- I was being pushed in on all sides and lost half of my free glass of wine as half the crowd was moving towards the tasting table and the other was trying to get out. Also didn't help that nearly everyone was drunk.

It's been a rollercoaster of a week what with my first real essay due this morning and Thanksgiving around the corner...I slept through my 8am class this morning that I really wanted to go to, and was my only reason for not going to the Beaujolais. And I finally talked to my roommate from back home and her life has changed so much and I feel kind of homesick. As a result, I'm trying to organize a weekend trip to the Côte d'Azur next weekend to visit my friend who's studying in Menton, a village that sits right up against the Franco-Italian border. And I'm going to try to keep myself busy this weekend so I don't feel too depressed and lonely...

a night at the orchestra

Just got back home from a lovely evening with two friends -- after dinner in Vieux Lyon, we went to the beautiful Auditorium to attend a free concert for students. The conductor is a woman from Estonia and she was very entertaining to watch and the music was just lovely. The first was a very modern piece (composed just last year, in fact) and the second was a classic Tchaikovsky. The Auditorium in the Part Dieu neighborhood, right next to the Centre Commercial and is a lot bigger inside than it seems. There must have been thousands of students there tonight making for a pretty amazing sight. A few weeks ago I bought a "Pass Culturel" which is only available to students and gives access to 7 theater productions for only 35 euros. Going to the concert tonight made me really want to start looking into plays to go to, so hopefully I'll be writing more very soon about the theater scene here in Lyon...

I really should have bought that pipe

Still recovering from a busy, but AMAZING, weekend in London. After flying in on Thursday night, Asako and I went out for Indian food and then stayed at the Oxford Street TopShop (the first thing on our to-do list) until closing -- aka long enough for me to find the most perfect dress in the world for 18 pounds! And so the love affair began...

The last time I went to London, I must have been 10 or 11 years old, and I honestly don't remember it all that well. I do remember buying the first two Harry Potter books at Harrod's and the lovely tea and scones at our bed and breakfast near Paddington Station, but aside from that, it's all a blur. This trip really made me fall in love with London - so much, in fact, should the day come that I have enough money to move there, I probably will.

It was great walking through the city and recognizing a bunch of places from my favorite mini-series 'State of Play' - I freaked out when I saw the media barricades outside of Parliament! Even more great was being able to see two of my friends - an Aquilana buddy who's now studying in England and a close Georgetown friend. Three days was really not enough...we spent literally 15 minutes in the Tate Modern before rushing into a cab to Victoria Station (also featured in 'State of Play'), and our cabbie was the sweetest person ever, only charging us 13 pounds for the ride when it should have been more because he saw we were panicking about being late. As if I needed anything else to convince me that London is the best city ever! If I can manage it, I would love to go back again next semester...

Halloween, à la française.

Halloween has never been one of my favorite holidays, but I must admit that I do miss the economy size bags of trick or treat candy and The Rocky Horror Picture show. Being in a country where Halloween really doesn't exist at all in the American sense made me feel the need to fête this day of fright and fun in any way possible. Yesterday my friend and I happened upon a pretty neat video store near the Hôtel de Ville and purchased a copy of Alfred Hitchcock's The Birds for 4 euros. We had dinner and a chocolate pumpkin at her residence and watched the movie. All in all a pleasant evening on All Hallows Eve.

communal toilet paper, and other tales from french public restrooms

This is probably the "bloggiest" thing I've ever done -- writing an entry in between classes. Just thought I'd finally write about the most stressful parts of my day at the fac: finding a bathroom. Turns out that restrooms here at the university are unisex (which was certainly a shock the first time I walked in). They also seem to be cleaned about once a year, which makes the situation especially bad on rainy days like today. We're talking muddy floors and no hooks on the doors to hang your coat or bag. Oh, and there's also that odor that I can't even compare to anything you might recognize because it's worse than anything else I can think of. And did I mention that there are no toilet seats? Well, there are no toilet seats! But luckily for the guys, that isn't a problem (I can tell because there's no door separating the urinals from the toilet stalls.

So my daily quest is to find a bathroom where the word "sanitaire" (the word on the doors of bathrooms here, ironically) actually means something. Thanks to an exchange student from New Zealand, I've discovered the wonders of the library restrooms, where you can get toilet paper in your own individual stall rather than from the one dispenser outside (which begs the question, what if you need more than you anticipated before going to the stall? what then, I ask, what then?), but the floors still have a wetness problem. My favorite one so far is all the way on the top floor of the southernmost building, because it seems like I might be the only one who knows about it -- which means cleanliness and no odor. But also no mirrors. Well, you've got to take what you can get.

I knew libraries were cool, but this is something else!

Am pretty proud of myself today because I actually got a good amount of work done by getting off my butt and going to la Bibliothéque de la Part Dieu -- the biggest municipal library in Lyon. Turns out you've got to have all sorts of paperwork to get a library card, so I just hung out there and read up on Courbet, who I have to write a paper on in my Art History class.

While the architecture of the whole Part Dieu complex is pretty horrid, the inside of the library is cool. They have a gallery/exhibition space that's really open and bright and a nifty little café right in the lobby where I had a delicious lyonnais salad. Also picked up a ton of brochures about stuff going on in Lyon, which should come in handy.

I'm in this weird place where I don't know exactly what to do with myself at the moment -- I didn't get invited to go out tonight by anyone, so I'm just kind of lounging around at home. Hopefully someone will organize something for tomorrow because I'm not sure I like this feeling of having nothing to do.

my new favorite food

RACLETTE. It's what's for dinner.

It's kind of like fondue, but more delicious. You need a special little machine that melts the cheese in individual pans which you then slather onto your choice of cured meats (saucisson, prosciutto, etc) and boiled potatoes. According to my host mom, it's a specialty of the Haute-Savoie region, where I also had the ridiculous pleasure of eating tartiflette, a mix of cream, potatoes, and bacon (basically raclette but already melted and all mixed together). I feel like I weigh 1000 pounds, but it is SO worth it.

la vita è bella

Still recovering from a busy weekend in Torino. The city was a lot bigger than I expected it to be (probably bigger even than Lyon) and it seems like we chose the right weekend to go: there was a huge festival that featured stalls with regional farmers selling their wares, which meant a Sunday lunch feast like you wouldn't believe. Torino's also jam packed with museums, of which I only got to three: below you've got some pictures of the inside of the Palazzo Madama, once the seat of the royal family of Savoia. I'm thinking about sticking around Lyon for the next few weekends since it's literally been a month since I've done so! I'm all traveled out for the time being...

broken.

Tonight was one of my most awkward here at the Pellet home. Neither my oldest host sister nor my host brother were at home for dinner, so there were only 5 of us at the table. My two youngest host sisters (aged 8 and 10) were pulling what seemed like the normal antics, but the parents were especially on edge - even going so far as to hit the two of them on the back of the head. Both my host parents hit them each once, at the table, but it didn't really change anything about the way they were acting.

My host mother is an aggressive character - earlier, I scuttled into the kitchen to get a cup of tea since I've been feeling under the weather today. She told me off for not dressing appropriately, calling it idiote that I wasn't wearing a scarf inside the house. I was a bit taken aback that she would talk to me that way, but perhaps that language isn't quite as strong in French as it is in English?

At any rate, I'm pretty excited about my weekend trip to Turin tomorrow. I'm going with a group of American girls, only one of which I actually know. But it doesn't matter - I'll be thrilled to be at Italy again.

I must say that I feel quite guilty for spending as much money as I am on traveling when the only news you ever hear these days is that the economy is a mess. Am I being a good global citizen by not witholding my spending, or should I be more prudent about where my money is going?

3 countries in 3 weeks? systems are go

Turns out blogging is hard when you travel. And when you watch lots of TV shows online.

I made my first big solo trip two weekends ago to San Sebastian, Spain for their annual film festival. The city is absolutely gorgeous; once the beach getaway for the royal family, it remains a ritzy vacation spot, but also a hangout for Basque surf bums.


While I certainly had some butterflies in my stomach about traveling alone, everything went fine. The weirdest thing about going solo is eating -- although luckily, I was saved by tapas and bounced from one café to another and only eating one tapa at each.

Last weekend, I finally met up with my friends who's studying in Menton for a weekend in Avignon. While the weather was gorgeous, it was colder than we thought!

And now I'm planning a weekend away in Torino, Italy. I miss Italy so much and now that I'm surrounded by French people 24/7, I zone in on Italians the way I used to with French people back home in the States. I've met some lovely students from Bologna at the university, so hopefully I'll be able to continue practicing my italian with them.

Finding the Gaul within

Patrimoine. Loosely translated, it means "cultural inheritance" or "heritage". But here in France, and in Europe more broadly, patrimoine holds a significant weight that is difficult to describe. Evidence of this are the annual "Journées de Patrimoine", held this weekend, which open the doors of every site that could possibly be linked to the development of culture to the public, free of charge (for the most part). Thus, the last 48 hours have been chock full of historical and cultural enrichment, and thanks to all the walking I've done, I really feel like I know Lyon a lot better. To give you an idea, here's a quick recap of how I spent my weekend:

• Standing on the stage of a 19th century theater considered to be one of the most beautiful in France
• Hiking up the ruins of a 2000 year old Roman amphitheater - where productions are still staged to this day
• Getting a private guided tour of the Basilica that graces every postcard of the city
• Listening to a cello concert in the cloister of nearly 400-year-old hospital
• Riding an escalator past the orchestra pit at the Opera House
• Wandering through the hallways of a former military storehouse - now turned into the uber-modern School of Fine Arts
• Learning about the architecture of a wheat reserve built in 1728
• Walking along the top of a sixteenth century fort built under the orders of Louis XII
• Climbing the gorgeous staircase of the City Hall annex, which housed a middle school in the 1600s

And to think I only explored 2 arrondissements!

Mi ha rotto il cazzo, and other stories from the first week of class

When they tell you that French universities are disorganized, they are not exaggerating. It's three days into the first week of classes, and schedules, room numbers, and even course descriptions are changing left and right. I finally received my carte d'étudiant on Tuesday, bringing to an end the week-long quest that was gathering all the necessary documentation. And I thought the hard part was over.

As French students really don't have a choice when it comes to the courses they take (they pick a major and a minor, and every class for every semester is already pre-determined), it's pretty tough for foreign students to 1) find out the schedule of classes since French students don't need to work out their schedule and have to go to whatever classes are given to them - no matter when they find out when they take place 2) know what the subject matter of a course will be - they're pretty much all titled modern or contemporary Literature/History/Geography/Philosophy since, once again, it doesn't really matter to French students what the class is about, since they have to take it regardless 3) know how many credits each class is worth, because to french students, as long as they complete the required courses for their major, they will have the right number of credits.

That said, it is unsurprising that my adventures this week included: skipping a class in order to finally get my carte d'étudiant - only to discover that my student ID number (indicated on the card) wasn't working to give me internet access, sitting through a class about the theory of genre without understanding a word the professor said through her thick accent - and later realizing it was worth only a pointless 2 credits, and walking in on a Translation "Cours Magistraux" (lecture) -- only to realize it was being conducted in German.

This evening, my spirits got picked up by two lovely Italian girls, Veronica and Valentina, whom I met while unsuccessfully trying to decipher the schedules outside the Sécretariat. Valentina invited me to her birthday dinner this evening, where we had a delicious (albeit expensive) meal of lyonnais specialties in a typical "bouchon" - a brasserie à la lyonnaise. The two are heading back to the University of Bologna to take their exams, so I hope we still hang out after they come back. 

Annecy, and the craziest parade the world has ever seen

Orientation ended last Thursday night with a "soirée pub" organized by the OIP equivalent of Lyon 3. It was spectacularly awkward, especially with a history professor shuffling his way into our dancing circle after a few beers. With the day off on Friday, I decided to visit the Musée des Beaux Arts (free with a student ID card) which is housed in a gorgeous 17th century abbey. On Saturday, it was raining non-stop, but that didn't stop me and two of my friends from taking a day trip to the lovely little city of Annecy. It is the capital of the Haute-Savoie department (Savoy was once an independent entity and included parts of Switzerland and Italy) and rests on the banks of a beautiful lake. As a result, the old town has two canals running through it, leading some to dub it the "Venice of France". Annecy is a short 2 hour train ride from Lyon, and only 20 miles away from Geneva.

Luckily, the weather cleared up today just in time for the Grand Défilé of the Biennale de la Danse, Lyon's twice annual dance festival. The parade is the centerpiece of the festival, which continues until the end of the month. Each act was as breathtaking as the last, featuring innovative modern dance unlike anything I've seen before. According to the festival's website, it is the largest choreographed parade in Europe, and featured over 4,500 dancers. The costumes were absolutely incredible. Here are a couple shots from the day. As always, you can find more on my Photobucket site.

                
                

My poor feet.

I must treat my feet really nicely over the next 24 hours - because they've been incredibly good to me today. After trekking (tramway-riding) for about 30 minutes to the Lyon 2 campus in the suburb of Bron, I found out that they've never had a Lyon 3 exchange student take cinema courses with them. It made me upset because, had I known that Lyon 2 had a film program, I would certainly have decided to do my exchange there. Anyhow, Lyon 3 people seem cooler somehow than Lyon 2. Lyon 2 has an air of superiority about it that I'm not too keen on. But their campus on the quais (banks) of the Rhône are, admittedly, more glamorous than the converted tobacco factory that houses Lyon 3.

Unfortunately for me, one ride on the TCL (Lyon's public transportation system) costs 1.60 euros. This was unfortunate because I only had .60 at the time. I was smack dab in the middle of nowheres-ville suburbia without tram fare nor any forseeable way of getting some. I decided to walk along the tram tracks until reaching some sort of commercial establishment, which turned out to be a Chinese buffet restaurant. After learning that there was, in fact, no cash register at said Chinese restaurant, I was directed to a large store just beyond it, which turned out to be the French version of Costco. And only after waiting in line for 30 minutes did I finally get enough change to get on the tram.

Tonight, the International Relations office at Lyon 3 organized a "soirée pub" for us in Vieux Lyon. There were no actual French people there - which, for me, defeated the purpose of going out - but at least drinks were free. Something to keep in mind for the future: European clubs don't start playing the good music until about 1am.

But after over 2 hours of dancing, my feet are definitely killing me, and they are well deserving of a rest.

J'ai trop mangé hier...

...but today's a new day. After a veritable luncheon feast for a classmate's birthday, and an eating out celebration on the Rue Marroniers for dinner, cutting back today would have been an option. But not having a real meal for the whole day - not an option. I've been sitting in my room for over three hours now, wandering downstairs only once at around 8pm to see if dinner preparations were under way -- only to find the kitchen door slightly closed (which has never happened before). Unsure about whether this meant I could enter or not, I decided to work my way back to my bedroom, hoping desperately that I would run into one of the kids. I did hear their voices coming from the television room, which made me think that the parents were preparing something that they didn't want the kids mucking up. Well, about an hour and a half later, I believe I have been mistaken. They either a) forgot about me b) thought I was eating out for dinner again tonight c) had a casual refrigerator-grab free-for-all like they did at lunch at a point in time I was not aware of. None of this, however, solves my hunger problem. Merde.

"T'es une française maintenant..."

Well, according to my host father, Antoine. It was basically his way of congratulating me for getting over my jet lag. There was a very French moment during our repas this evening wherein my host brother, Ferréol, and Antoine were having an intense discussion about something I couldn't catch on to. Then, all of a sudden, Antoine turned to me and asked "Et Catherine, quelle est ta opinion?/What's your opinion?" Despite knowing that the French highly value strong opinions and furious debate, I could come up with nothing and stumbled over the sentence I've probably used most often during my stay here in Lyon: "I didn't understand very well...."

Turns out they were talking about Ramadan, since one of Ferréol's classmates is observing it, and Ferréol attends a Catholic school. This led to an elaborate discussion about how a complete understanding of France is impossible without the concept of laicité...

I also made the discovery on the way home today that I live perpendicular to the street where Antoine de Saint-Éxupery was born. The street is now named after the famed aviator/writer. At the risk of exposing how cliché my francophilie is, I must admit that Le Petit Prince is one of my favorite books of all time. That I'm living around the corner from the man who gave us this little guy:

must be a sign of good things to come.

in high company

So I definitely got a great deal living with the Pellets - apparently Anne (my host mother) is running for the presidency of MoDem of the region of Lyon. And here I was, unsure of the status of this "famille normale" was, and my host mom is off becoming the next Ségolène Royal. 

Also, I felt badly for being unable to communicate to my host dad, Antoine, that it wasn't a problem that his kids were arguing at the table tonight. My favorite (and only) host brother, Ferréol, was causing trouble with the youngest sister, Appolline. It really doesn't bother me at all, but I guess my silent reaction made Antoine feel like he should apologize, but that's just the way kids are. Anyway, the little one is pretty annoying. 

this is where i live

Just added some photos from my walk around the hood with my host bro Ferréol (he's 14 and is awesome). Click on the Photobucket link to find these and my shots from Ireland. We live in one of those buildings - he tried to point out my room, but I just smiled and nodded, not knowing what he meant...which seems to be happening more often than it should!

oh mon dieu, what have i done

After the fairytale that was my arrival yesterday, things have become hectic very quickly. We (incoming international students) had an organizational meeting at the Manufacture du Tabac building this morning and I was overwhelmingly adept at not talking to anyone. I have yet to submit my paperwork for my student ID card, my carte de séjour, to open my bank account, buy a new SIM card for my phone, ask my host parents for some documentation that I am living with them, talk to my parents...

in love with lucca

to my loyal reader(s)

i apologize for being out of touch for far too long - turns out that internet cafes can get quite expensive in tourist areas (imagine that), and when it comes to a choice between a cone of gelato and a half hour online, my sweet tooth cannot be denied.

right now i am in tuscany, and absolutely beautiful change from the southern coast. while the beaches were lovely, the countryside here is even more so. i'm resting my feet at an internet point before heading out for a full day of shopping, and the continuation of my quest for the perfect invicta backpack.

keep an eye out for a series of entries i'll start upon my return back to the states with the very original title 'what i learned on my trip to europe'.

also, i'll be leaving italy after 6 full weeks here this friday, and i'm sad to see it go -- but i'm sure that some of that delicious dublin guinness will be more than willing to raise my spirits!

a bientot

off the beaten sentiero

Just got back from an incredible weekend at the Cinque Terre. The weekend was filled with soccer-watching, mountain-scaling, and much consumption of delicious gelato. On our first day, we had the most amazing (unexpected) hike all the way up to two tiny villages called Groppo and Volastra which each had only one restaurant. But after scaling the mountain, any meal someone set in front of me would have been absolutely scrumptious. Another highlight was the Hogwarts Express-esque train we took back to Rome yesterday. It wasn't magenta, but we did have one of those compartments all to ourselves, complete with luggage racks up above and seats facing one another. I was very excited, to say the least.

Also, I can't forget about the other magical train ride we took on our last night at the Cinque Terre heading back to our hotel in La Spezia. All of us had had a little to drink, and the train was delayed by at least 15 minutes. While waiting on the platform, 2 cargo trains sped by, recalling the journey to Narnia in Prince Caspian. I don't need to tell you how awesome that was. Then, when we finally got on the train, the smell of marijuana and the sound of bongo drums wafted toward us, and lots of drunken people singing 'Volare' guided us back to the albergo.

I can't believe there are only 2 weeks left of the L'Aquila program -- time seriously does fly.

Thinking about taking a short trip to Rome this weekend with a couple other kids from the program. Don't forget to check out the new photos!

when life gives you lemons

We just got back from the most amazing weekend on the Amalfi Coast. On our last morning, I had a perfect moment on the beach. There were only a few other people there because I had woken up so early. I was listening to "Anyone But You" and looking out on the most beautiful place I have ever seen in my whole life. I was so overwhelmed that I had trouble breathing. I can only wish other people the opportunity to experience something so wonderful.

The title of this post is inspired by the lemon production native to the Coast -- we visited a lemon farm nestled into the side of a mountain and it was absolutely glorious.

Check out my photo site for more pictures!

Un giorno a Pescara

The group of us took a day trip to the seaside town of Pescara on Sunday. Most spent the day baking in the 90 degree heat and talking about the Dolce and Gabbanna speedos that reigned on the beach. While everyone was tanning, I sat under an umbrella that I didn't pay for and did some hard core people watching. I was really enamored with this couple sitting near me, and wrote this while relaxing on my beach chair:

I can't continue writing my homework until I get out what I think about this couple sitting under the umbrella in front of me here on the beach in Pescara. They are picture perfect. They have a small child who is no more than 8-10 months old. The husband looks possibly French with sleek, frameless glasses, a navy blue polo shirt, and a slender body. His wife is beautiful and freckled, wearing a pink flowered bikini with a matching headband. They hold their little daughter so tenderly. At one point, the mother was stretched out on a beach chair looking into her baby's face. She was stroking the child's hair, tucking it behind its ear, cooing. Her father held her later, walking around the tables and umbrellas while his daughter sucked her thumb. They are perfect in a perfectly unpretentious way, beautifully content and sun-splashed, oozing a European attitude I envy.

un giorno mistico

Today was a pretty cool day -- we met this author from L'Aquila this morning who took us on a tour of one of the city's largest and most important churches. There are pictures on my photo site if you're interested in seeing them. He wrote a novel inspired this fresco he discovered behind the altar of the church. It was pretty Indiana Jones of him, if you ask...him.

We also have taken a couple of really nice walks around the city in the last few days. I took this picture yesterday when we were walking around with Anna Lucia, one of the professors who teach some of the other girls in the level above me. The petals fell from a window box above them, and I thought they looked really beautiful.

Best experience of the trip so far: meeting a class of middle schoolers yesterday. They invited us to their class dinner that night, and we shared tons (and I mean tons) of delicious pizza. One of them had this shaved mushroom stuff on it called "tartuffo" and some kind of prosciutto. I

I got along really well with this one girl who told me she loves Avril Lavigne. She dressed exactly like her back in the "Complicated" days - long blond hair, cargo-y pants, and lots of plastic bracelets. She was super cute and I hope I run into her again sometime.

Some of the girls in her class brought us to Magoo, the most popular dance club in L'Aquila. We were there too early and there weren't too many people around, but they played pretty fantastic techno the whole time, just as I hoped.

Sì, capisco...not.

This is the view from my window in L'Aquila. It couldn't be more beautiful.

As a city, L'Aquila is pretty small -- Professoressa Benedetti took us on a little giro della città yesterday and showed us the main piazzas, some of her favorite bars (where you drink coffee, not alcohol...most of the time), and the internet café from which I post at this very moment.

This morning, we made our first excursion to Conad (strangely close to another word describing a part of the male human anatomy that you probably wouldn't want to name a supermarket, in my humble opinion), the local supermercato.

I made the stupid mistake of hanging out in the store after paying for my groceries (prosciutto, pane, and a nice jar of Nutella were the highlights), and after leaving, was stopped by the manager who thought I stole something. He told me (in Italian) about the fact that they have security cameras and that they could watch me, and I tried to show him my receipt to prove I had paid for the bottle of water I was holding. Sure, I might have seemed suspicious(ly American and touristy), but I can't help but think this might have been the first instance of overt racism I've encountered. 

But maybe I'm also jumping to conclusions. After all, I'm here to adapt to the euro quo...which apparently disapproves of loitering in the supermarket after you've made your purchase. 

Nevertheless, a low point for the day. The high point was having the woman at the cell phone store where I bought my new SIM card compliment me on my italian. At least I'm doing something right!

countdown to liftoff

Behold my first proud purchase for my trip to Europe.




Less than 48 hours from now, I'll be on a plane to Rome, launching my long-awaited, highly anticipated European adventure. I've been planning this trip since my sophomore year of high school, and it has finally arrived -- so I thought I'd go all out on the backpack. Admire it's pink-and-plaidness, ladies and gentlemen.

After much deliberation, I have decided to name my blog THE EURO QUO. If you're interested in finding out how I chose the name (it took me literally four months), read on -- if not, just continue being amazed at my glorious knapsack.

My thought process stemmed from quotidien -- most probably from a recent lunch I had with my father at le pain quotidien, my personal belgian bakery/café chain of choice. The word "quotidian" may have some banal undertones, but I think it pretty well wraps up what I'm going for with this year in Europe. I want to become absorbed in the essence of the everyday, to appreciate the minute, yet essential, details that distinguish them from one another and from Americans. I want to be immersed so deeply that these distinctions become quotidian.

But quotidian is a mouthful, not to mention painfully pretentious sounding, so I went with an abbreviated version that calls to mind the status quo, translation: things as they are. Even though sticking to the status quo may conjure up images of succumbing to the man (or High School Musical, depending on your taste in made-for-TV movies), but I as a stranger in a foreign culture, learning, adapting, and adopting the status quo is part of the learning experience.

And thus the journey begins -- alla prossima, amici.