paul newman

my grief is deep. blake called and woke me up from a nap saturday with the news of paul newmans death, and i felt my body sink deeper into my mattress then could be physically possible. i love paul newman, he was one of my truest heros, and the thought of our world not being graced by his presence anymore is both terrifying and heartbreaking. after some thought, however, i have come to the conclusion that all is as it should be. he has died, but after what? after a life full of big smiles and twinkling eyes and a marriage that personified the idea of love, and a life that was dedicated to the persuit of helping those less fortunate find peace and strength. paul newmans gift to our world, both through his films, and his personal convictions, and his countless hours and millions of dollars of generocity that he bestowed to people, especially children, are beyond measure. i think we should use his life as a template for our own; recognize the love and happiness that comes with compassion and humanity, the fullfillment that we can find in ourselves when we let go of fear and live our lives according to our passions, and the blessings of finding people, perhaps even a specific person, that we love dearly, and holding onto them for a lifetime.
i will miss paul newman, but he is now as he always was: a hero, a mentor, and the most beautiful man that has ever walked this earth.
john steinbeck says in his novel the wayward bus, that as we go through life we come to realize more and more that there arent very many men, real men, after all. when i read this thought last summer in my copy of the book, i circled the line, and next to it i wrote, simply, "paul newman". in a world of few, where most are wannabes or little boys lost, he definitely was, in all ways, a man.

simone is an angel. his only payment for calling a dentist and making me an appointment was the cost of getting to look at the gaping hole in my molar. he was intrigued.
so now i have an appointment monday at noon. ill have to miss an hour of italian class, but i think ill be ok.
simone also told me about another food and wine festival this weekend, in goizia, which is a city about 30km from here. there is a big castle and the festival will have food from all of the border countries, including austria, slovania, and france. he said it should be wonderful, so i am going to go tomorrow.
i am starving, so i am going to go have lunch and be careful to only chew on the left side of my crippled mouth.

oh my god. as i was walking to class this morning, listening to REM and chomping on some minty gum, i felt something hard start to roll around on my tongue. turns out it was a piece of my bottom right molar (third from back). i tongued my tooth and there is now a hole big enough to put the tip of my tongue in! i have no idea how in the world this happened.
emailed the terribly unhelpful people at my school asking for the name of a doctor. no reply.
"call simone," my mom suggested, "he may know someone".
so i did. i said, "ciao, simone...i need a little help".
"oh god," he sighed, "are you in jail?"
"no, no, i just broke off a part of my tooth and now my gum is exposed"
so simone said that he would call around and get back to me. v. helpful, sweet boy.

on a lighter note...
since i have been in udine i have been stared at as though i were a freak for wearing flip flops. i think these people think that it is colder then it actually is, and there is an Absolutely No Open-Toed Shoes Allowed rule, only v expensive marc by marc jacobs flats and prada pumps and chuck taylors or similar. for two weeks i have been defiant though, and worn my flip flops because my feet are not use to being covered and i got horrid, bloody blisters on my heels when i tried to wear my tennis shoes. so, anyway, i deduced that feet are like boobs here, because they are absolutely always covered and people always stare at me when i walk by. inevitable. i just try to keep my toes nicely painted. so anyway, i had this theory about toes being exotic body parts to the boys of udine, and then yesterday, my theory was totally proven right! i was walking home and this boy on a bike rode up beside me. he started telling me something in italian and, as per usual, i stopped him mid-sentence, telling him not to bother, no parlo italiano, etc. he said "oh, im sorry. you speak english. well, i just wanted to make it aware that you have toes of beauty." i just laughed and thanked him, and he peddled off.
oh! simone just called. he said to come to his office and we would try to call a dentist. thank heavens.
bye!

exhile!

whirlwind...

john loved it here so much that he just couldnt even fathom going home on monday like planned, so he changed his flight to wednesday and we settled in.

monday night we went to this fun artsy theatre in town called Visionario, where they have a little rooftop cafe and a book shop that specializes in books about art, film, and other things hip. they also show a surprisingly vast amount of italian films (and a few american), in a really nice theatre with reclining seats and track lighting. john and i saw a movie called 'il pappa di giovanna', which was in italian, but very good. it was based in bologna in the 1930s and the scenery and waredrobes were great. also, every now and then i could understand a phrase or two of what they were saying. i think watching movies like this will help me to listen and understand the way sentences are phrased, etc...

we didnt sleep at all that night. i seriously doubt if either one of us lost consciousness at all. we had to wake up at 7am to go harvest grapes with simone and luigi, and by 6am we were looking at the clock and wishing time would hurry up. the bed i have is a twin, a tiny tiny twin, thin as a board and scratchy. we put the "matress" on the floor in order to pretend to have more room, but we woke up sore and ill and exhausted.

we went to the university experimental farm with simone and luigi. its this big, vast field out in the country where the university grows all sorts of vegetables and plants to harvest and experiment on. there were rows of apple trees, kiwi trees (yes, kiwis grown on trees, and did you know that italy is the number 1 producer of kiwis worldwide?), sunflowers, MARIJUANA, corn, etc. they also have the grape vines here. several differnt varieties of grapes are grown by the agriculture team, and currently they are trying to cross pollinate certain berries to produce strains that will be more independent in the wild. the vineyards went on for ever, and the 4 of us went around to certain vines and clipped bushels of grapes off and brought them back to the lab to do experiments on them i.e. determining their sugar content. luigi let me clip off all the the grapes, which was so much fun. simone, who lived and studied wine in california last year, quipped that "in america, they have mexicans picking grapes. in italy, there are americans". the farm is beautiful and surrounded on all sides by vies of the alps; to the left north austria, to the east slovenia...

once all the grapes were picked, we brought them to a green house and checked their sugar content. this is done by using this strange metal rectangle. you squeeze the juice from the grape onto a piece of film, shut the rectangle, then look through it to the sun. the number that comes up is its sugar content. science is v. easy.

after we were done we went to have lunch at a MENTAL ASYLUM. apparently the experimental farm is on land that the university bought from the mental home. so right next door is a pretty good cafe where university employees and out-patient crazy people can have lunch. luigi told us that just last week a girl student at the farm was attacked by a knife weilding psycopath. so awesome.

lunch was delicious, though. everyone eyed each other in a knowing, suspicious manner, trying to sum up the patients from the university students. i was so baffled by all of this that i asked simone, "who, exactly, eats here?" he replied, "oh, you know, farm people, the workers...and keelers" (killers).

john and i got back to my dorm from our hard day of harvesting and scientific experimentation and were looking forward to a long, possibly restful nap. we were sabotauged.

about 1 minute after we got to my dorm, there was a loud knock at the door, and the evil man who is in charge (the one who yelled at me the other day) burst in like there was a fire.

"you have guest!! you have one! without asking me?!"

didnt tell him that john had already been there for 5 days, just said, "um...you didnt tell me we couldnt have guests?"

he damanded that we accompany him down stairs. we walked with him in silence down to the basement, where he led us to a darm, prison like room with a table and folding chairs.

"you want a guest, you may speak here. that is all."

john and i stood in the room, kind of in shock, for about 2 minutes. what were we to do? obviously he couldnt come back upstairs with me, and i didnt want to sneak him in after hours because the last thing i need is to be kicked out of my dorm. so i told john to wait outside, i went upstairs and packed his suitcase (and mine!), and we fled to venice.

john was scheduled to fly out of venice the next morning anyway, so i figured it was sort of convenient. venice is about 1.5 hours away on the train. we caught the next departure, called a couple hotels out of my lonely planet, and arrived shortly before 8.

our hotel was WONDERFUL!!! a sweet little one-star tucked away in an alley. big bed, shower in the room, and 3 huge windows overlooking a canal!

we walked the streets and found a perfect little restaurant with actual italians in it. we dined on carpaccio, a venetian original, and yummy pizza and house wine. my mind has totally changed about venice. yes, it is filthy and stinky and full of tourists. but it might be the most positively breathtaking city on earth, and when you factor in the knowledge that it is even real, not a made up dream land, it is nothing short of amazing. the best thing to do in venice, i think, is to walk around and keep your ears perked, and spy into windows and listen to the italians and imagine what it would be like to actually live there. i know thats what you do in most cities you visit, but venice is especially intruiging to think of this way, because it just seems like an alternate universe.

anyway, we had a blast. photos are here:

www.new.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2431763&l=6a0d0&id=4913936

john has gone home, and its back to work for me...

theres another food and wine festival in a neighboring town this weekend so i think i might check it out...

i love you all...

photos from the friuli festival!!!
www.new.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2430098&l=81726&id=4913936

i will blog later, i am exhausted right now from a hard day of harvesting grapes and avoiding being stabbed by inpatients at a mental asylum

love, e

friuli doc!

johnny and i are sitting at the western union office using the internet. its like 1euro an hour and its run by japanese boys who wear cute shoes and play animated video games all day.
things in udine are going fabulously. i think im in love with this town. it is old and rambling and has a big castle on a hill in the center of town, and its surrounded by beautiful mountains that look blue through the cold air.
john got here friday afternoon. i had him meet me at a little park (giardino loris fortuna) near my no.10 bus stop, and when i arrived in the park after school he was sitting there by the fountain reading bridget jones. i dont know that ive ever been happier to see anyone, and it was as though not a day had gone by since we parted ways.
this weekend has been amazing. as i said, it was the friuli reginal food and wine festival, and the town was completely (still is, actually) packed with people who came from far and wide to taste the local specialties. udine, being just recently a part of austria, is very different from the italy that i am use to. it has alot of obvious austrian influence, in the architecture, the food, and the people, physically. there are alot of blondes, and the people are more business like and soft spoken, but everyone is beautiful, extremely fashionable, and very very nice. i think i just happened to run into the only two truly mean people in the town on my first day, because since then everyone has been very kind and accomodating. they dont necessarily speak english, but if they know even a little they will use it, or they will smile sweetly and encouragingly when i speak italian to them. this weekend has been great practice for the language, for me and john both. at the festival we had to ask for our food and drinks in italian, directions around town and where to catch certain busses. my accent is pretty flawless and it was great to see people not even think twice in answering my question when i phrased my sentence correctly. sad, though, because ill ask a question but then they give me this big long answer and i feel like i should stop them and say, "no, dont bother, just point" because i have no idea what they are saying in response.
the festival was A BLAST. it was so much fun. there were thousands of people milling through the alleyways and the piazzas, , and everyone was so happy and laughing and drinking wine and eating ham. i have never seen so many pork products in my life. there were whole pigs that people were just slicing up on tables, and handing out fistfulls of the juicy meat to ravenous festival-goers. i, as im sure you know, LOVE pork, especially prosciutto and salame, so this, combined with the fantastic local wines and fresh CHEESES made this festival pretty much my dream come true. the people were all so fun and happy, and as john put it, the crowds were "refreshingly ruly", as in, there are thousands of drunk people gorging themselves on cheese and everyone is packed into picknic tables spread out through the piazzas, but theres no discontent or screaming, only laughter and singing and music. the first night we just wandered ainlessly glugging the perfect wine and sampling the food, watching bands play and eying the pretty people in the crowd. toward the end of the night i ran into a group of kids from my italian class (oh, yeah, my italian class is wonderful and much bigger now...we have kids from portugal, spain, a cute canadian boy, etc). they were all happy to see me, as we are all in this together, so we all went through the streets and hung out and talked about how HORRIBLE allessia bruno is (the mean mean woman in charge of my program). i was happy to know that it wasnt just me she was mean to, apparently everyone has horror stories. except the canadian boy, who said he made sure to go to her office directly at his appointment time and "apologize for bothering her". i told him he was a suckup.
saturday morning john and i went out for lunch at this little cafe down my street. i figured it was close and cute so we tried it. its a pizzetteria, and it is the most wonderful little cafe ever. john and i sat there reading italian vogue and eating our pizzas, which were made from scratch and just perfect (and huge and cheap!). the people who work there are wonderful; theres an old old man who is so handsom, in manner of paul newman, and hes sweet and smokes marlboros by just letting them hang from his lips and exhaling through his nose. theres also a little italian who makes the pizzas, and he explains exactly what he put on each one ("pomodori, insalate, e...oh! prosciutto crudo! bon appetito!") as though they were each a work of art. theres also a girl who works as a waitress and shes too cute for words. she loves me and john (weve been to this place 3 times now, so were regulars after this weekend...we even sit at the same table each time) and told us excitedly, "i am not italian, i speak english!" and just smiles at us and i am totally going to be her friend. the cafe is wonderful, and theres lots of locals from the neighborhood; old men drink wine there all day, and younger guys come and drink expressos and smoke cigarettes, and people walking there dogs wave inside and yell "ciao!". the tv is set loudly to mtv italian music video channel, which is oddly comforting and makes the atmosphere happy and familiar and excitable.
we went to the festval again last night, and it was great fun. we met up with my italian lab partners, the scientists who are teaching me to analyze grape tannins or whatever. they are HILARIOUS and they speak english but also encourage me to speak italian, which is great. the main guy, simone, is so cute and loves that we are from the south. he lived in california for a while and apparently the californians told him horrible stereotypical things about southerners; basically that we are backwoods rednecks and run around barefoot and tote rifles and drink stilled moonshine morning till night and speak a different language and were all scary raging republicans. the other day in the lab he was making fun of me and i was a bit miffed until i realised that he totally doesnt think that stuff is true and he was just joking.
theres another guy, luigi, from my lab, and hes funny and has huge facial features which makes his expressions particularly bogus. in the lab the other day we were freezing grapes with liquid nitrogen and they just sat in their regualr clothes and joked around and poured the liquid nitrogren onto the grapes out of a glorified paint can and we watched the little droplets roll across the table top, and i thought, surely there is a safer method to science then this, but it was alright. it was like alchemy, we made purple powder out of the grape skins!
so anyway, the scientists were all there, and there was a band and it was wild. simone pointed out the fact that one of the food stands was selling snails and i got excited because cooper for some reason is convinced that i am in france and that people here eat snails, and his one request was that i eat snails for him, so i told simone that i had to have some. they were pretty delicious actually.
the food here is so different from what we think of as italian food. lots of just cheese and meat, and polenta cakes, and sausages, and schnitzel and treats made out of apples. its wonderful.
toward the end of the night john and i were walking home, and down an alleyway we saw a big swarm of people. we went to see what the comotion was about, and it was just a little bar with a dj and a huge mass of italians standing outside. we ewnt and stood in the crowd and watched them, and the dj would play these italian songs and everyone was going crazy, everyone knew all the words, and they were singing and dancing. it was great. then, one group of people broke out in some chant-like song with the word napoli in it, and then another group of people started singing another song about friuli, and another chorus broke out in another song. i gathered they were football chants, and they seemed region specific. it was so incredible, everyone taking a side and singing a song and it was all so amiable, though, not at all like drunk frat boys from georgia shouting on one side of the room while gator fans shouted on another. it was beautiful and everyone was so wild and happy and sang so loudly. i have never loved italians more then at that moment, watching them all. john and i were just awestruck.
i have class tomorrow, and then on tuesday simone is taking to the "experimental farm" to harvest grapes!!
not sure yet when john is leaving, either tuesday or wednesday...
oh, and im about to post pictures. i love you all!

oh my gosh, i wish i had more time to blog. everything is going wonderfully now that i am finally settled.
i love it here, and the festival has begun and everyone is so excited.
i worked in my grape lab yesterday, with some italians who are so so nice and funny and adorable, so i think i am going to love working with them on a regular basis.
john is almost here!!
ill write more asap

settled?

ok...so, venice...
venice was STORMY. dark and rainy and cold...i, clearly, had just come from greece, my bright tan and slightly burned cheecks and flip flops and tank top were not counting on entering the arctic any time soon, so, at least initially, i suffered. i found my hostel, which was nice, but sort of shabby and dull, and settled in. i had no money and it was pouring down rain, so i set about to make some ramen in my dorm room. they had one of those instant kettles that boils water really fast, so i opened the packet of profurred ramen, inserted it, the flavoring packet, and water into the boiler, and began to let it cook. just then i noticed the sign, bright orange: anyone caught cooking in the boiling kettle will replace kettle, EOD. panicked, sure i was to be caught, i grabbed the kettle of boiling ramen and dumped it into the toilet. it took about 5 flushes to get the noodles all down, and the room reeked of chicken flavoring. i slunk off to the internet room in an effort to "leave the scene after commiting the crime".
about an hour later, i reemerged, and entered my dorm to find an extremely cute british boy sitting on his bunk, next to mine. we complained bitterly about the rain and how it was ruining our time in this marvelous city. he at least had a rain slicker. i had thrown away my sweater in greece.
we layed in our bunks and talked about things; he is a cambridge student which pleased and intrigued me. i got to hear all about their strict education regiment. i told him about uga...after about an hour i couldnt take it anymore...i was hungry and i was in venice and i would not be outdone. so we decided to go out.
i bought a 15euro sweater from the shop next door, and josh and i scampered through the drizzle. about the time it started to pour again, we found a nice (tourist) restaurant, and sat under the awning, watching the rain and the poor schmucks who were stuck in it, shared a bottle (or two?) of wine, and talked. he was extremely bright (not surprisingly) and easy going and i have finally taken a firm side in the oxford-campridge debate (something that, obviously, has been weighing on me)...josh, stephen hawking, hugh laurie, marc darcy...nuff said. i slept through the night better then i had in a long time, with the rain and the other peoples snoring (oddly comforting), and the next morning josh and i had croissants and coffee before i departed. it was still rainy that morning, and as we crossed the big bridge over the river, i stopped, caught stock-still by the beauty of venice, grey and choppy, the wide imperfect buildings, the boats rowing decidedly against the raging current, clouds swirling, everything awash in time and elements. it was one of the most beautiful sights that i have ever seen. i hope i can go back to venice soon and explore more, with a coat this time, and maybe even some closed-toe shoes...

so. udine...
wasnt prepared for this.
all of like, 5 people here speak english. i knew i was doomed when i arrived at my hotel the first night, and couldnt even check in! they had no idea what i was talking about, and i had to physically take the reservation book and find my name. was awful. sunday was also not a good day to be introduced to this town. everything is closed. it is deserted. it was scary and sad.
i went to bed super early sunday night, deciding to not worry, sure that all would be ok. i woke up at 6am monday morning. my class was at 9am. surely, i thought, this would be enough time to find my class room. the people who are in charge of my program, btw, are some of the most appalingly inefficient, mean, unhelpful people that i have ever encountered. they take like, 3 hour lunch breaks, and then freak out when they are too busy to get all of their work done. no instructions, directions, opr words of advice had been given to me, despite how many times i wrote emails asking for them. monday morning, i wandered all over the town, begging anyone who spoke english to help me find my way. no one knew what to say to me, and they looked at me like i had 2 heads when i asked, "parla inglese?". one man was nice enough to supply me with a map. ok, a map is good, but not if you dont even know where on the map you are. then one person pointed me down a street. ok. found a building, finally, at 8:30, where a woman LOOKED ON A COMPUTER (a novel idea) the name of my teacher, to see which building she worked in. take the bus, bus 10. where is bus stop. no idea. no one knows. finally found bus stop, but no ticket dispenser, etc. this went on for hours. at 10:30 i reached the building where i was suppose to be (way far away). no one there spoke english either. i walked around office to office, harping my professors name. received blank stares. finally, one woman was piecing together a sentence that i think was trying to tell me that i am in the wrong building (actually, the only thing she managed to say correctly was, "we dont have international students here"), and i was nearing the point of throwing my hands around her neck and SQUEEZING when a voice from behind said, "erasmus?". i wheeled around, and this sweet boy in glasses smiled and said, "erasmus student?". i could have cried because, yes! erasmus! exchange student! thats me! he spoke english! he said, "i saw your backpack, and i figured you must be here for a foreign program" (yes, i had been lugging my backpack around with me all day, because no one could tell me where my dorm was either). he was a miracle. the boy knew where my class room was, and i embraced him and thanked him fervently before finding a seat in the class.
my "absolute beginners" italian class is fun. its me, 12 russians, 8 chinese, 1 brazilian, and 2 portughese kids. my teacher is extremely nice and helpful and told me that my pronunciation was perfect (again! wish i knew just what to pronounce, though). after class this siberian woman and her daughter came up to me and basically adopted me. they were in the same program and had been here a week already and had been getting the same sort of cold-shoulder from the program directors. they had figured everything out for themselves. they walked me back to town (not nearly as far away as i had thought) and brought me to allesia bruno's office. she is suppose to be in chanrge of this program. we walked into her office, where she slammed down a book and yelled, "this office not for public! have decency! wait outside, oh my god!". yeah. she was mean. she said, "you found your dorm?" and i said, "no, i sent you emails asking for an address and you never wrote back". she stared at me. then told me the address. then shut the door, saying "your appointments not till tomorrow. bye". i reeled. the siberian lady said not to worry, she recognized the name of the dorm. we called a cab and the daughter (my age) rode with me over there (v sweet). we arrived at my dorm, and i found what i thought to be the front office: big room, couches, coffee table, receptionist desk, etc. we walked in and i unloaded my backpack, and all the sudden a booming yet nasaly voice screamed, "you have no right! no right! i am on the phone, get out! have patience! not your office, go!" i wheeled around and stared at a little man who was up on his hands leaning over the desk, pointing toward the door, his face swollen red. "get out!". i grabbed my bag and ran. the sweet siberian girl, sazhina, and i stood in the hall. and i just lost it. i tried so hard not to cry, but i was absolutely beside myself with frustration, grief, worry, exhaustion. yelled at! twice! absolutely lost and bewildered and led around on a wild goose chase and treated like a pariah. i just sat down in the hallway and cried. finally the man came out. he seemed sorry, i guess, and apoligized, but i wouldnt even look at his face. he gave me my room key and i composed myself long enough to get to my prison cell of a room, arrange to meet sazhina for dinner, and shut my door. then i laid in the fetal position and cried until i fell asleep...
i woke up a little later when sazhina knocked on my door. i looked out my window and saw the sun setting over the alps. i felt a little better. sazhina, who speaks very little english, walked me down the street. she showed me where the grocery store is, and how to buy fruit (you must put on plastic gloves, weigh the fruit out on a scale, type in a code, receive a sticker, etc). i bought groceries and bandaids for my crippled feet and some camembert because i hadnt eaten all day and i figured i deserved some good cheese if i came all the way over here for this. we walked to town later and she showed me a short cut and we met her mom at this wonderful italian movie theatre\art gallery where they serve tea and you can watch american movies on comfortable couches. i will probobly be going there alot. we ate pizza and took a stroll and they walked me home. was wonderful being with them, as they are so kind and sweet. they are buddhist, and are so peaceful and helpful. at one point, sazhina was reading an email that her swedish friend sent her. it was in english. sazhina said, "she says, her mom, had...cyst removed? what that?". i took my hand to my neck and tried to mime a cyst (weird) and both sazhina and her mother gasped. sazhina grabbed my hand and blew on my fingers, and pushed my hand down quickly, as though she were knocking something out of my hand. she said, "dont put that on your body, throw it away". i loved it.
since then, things have gotten better, slowly but surely. after hours of trying (seriously, hours) i managed to find both internet access and the guy who is incharge of my farming experience (much, much nicer!). i am going to be working on a vineyard with two students, scientists, while i am here in udine. they say that there is a problem with keeping fungus out of the red wine, and it is our job to save the grapes before the wine goes bad! how fun! class is still going great, i am remembering alot. my dorm isnt actually that bad. i decorated a bit and it is homey and though i have to wash my clothes in the sink and hang them to dry in the shower, i dont really mind. the view of the alps is lovely. and my bed is comfortable.
udine, as a city, is actually extremely beautiful. it is old and rambling, cobblestone streets and big piazzas, fancy shops and gelaterias. pretty typical, but more alpine and definitely under austrian influence. the town is very well off, very rich in alot of ways. everyone dresses right out of vogue, in smart outfits and fancy shoes. the people are very good looking and fit and they laugh alot. there are gardens and busy city streets but also small alleyways to wander through. it seems that there is alot of culture here: a jazz festival just came through, and there are art galleries, and this weekend there is going to be the friuli regional food and wine festival!!! so i will get to taste all of the local specialties that i will be a part of. it is cold, though. we are definitely in the alps. i had to buy a coat, and i need better shoes and some warmer clothes for sure. despite the evil people in my program, and the rediculously crippling language barrier, the people seem very nice. different, for sure, from western and southern italians...more standoffish and serious, not as eager or bold. its a colder climate, though.
i think, all in all, i will really like it here. i just need to learn my italian very fast. in the mean time i will just be an observer, taking in the city life from the outside, hoping that someone will be my friend...

oooh, and johnnys coming this weekend!!!!!!!!!! i cannot wait!!!!!!! hoorah hoorah!!!!

oh, thank fortuna, god, and all the angels in heaven...i have found internet...

holy. schlamoly. i feel like i have just ended my quest for the holy f-ing grail. the final clue, it seems, was hidden in an office on the 3rd floor (2nd piano) of a maze of a building in the mind of someone named Mazzriano, who was kind enough to debunk the lies of the woman who is in charge of my program, and hand me a slip of paper with my actual internet password on it (no, i was not suppose to "create up" my own, i was definitely assigned one, like i thought). now i am here, in a computer lounge, in the school which i attend. italy...is weird...

ok, recap though:
i left naxos friday morning on a ginormous and not so glamorous barge sailing toward the mainland. 8 hours later we arrived in pireaus (city of death), one hour later i found the train station (was right next to the dock...dont know how i could have missed it), 2 hours later i got off at my correct subway stop in athens (missed my stop, twice. ended up riding the damned subway all over the place till the subway director said, "where is it, exactly, that you are trying to go?"), one hour after that i finally found my hostel (was directly outside of subway stop...walked right past it...roamed the dangerous streets and finally went up to a cutie policeman who saw me trudging toward him, teary eyed. he opened his arms, palms up, and said with deepest sympathy, "tell me!"...turns out my hostel was directly behind me...he pointed over my shoulder, patted me on my hand, and told me to have a good night).
have not stayed in a hostel since i was 17. at that time it was great fun because a) you had friends with you and b) everyone is drunk and wild and ready to party so it is exciting and you can forget about that fact that you are sharing a room with 10 other smelly, mangey travelers. now that i am a bit older, im not into the hostel scene so much. i opened the door to my room, and directly in front of me was an oldish man, clad in only tighty whiteys, climbing up into the top bunk, completely bent over. i thought, "oh dear god...", changed into a very fancy outfit, and left.
in the lobby the other, not-so-old-going-to-bed-at-11pm-in-tightywhitey hosterlers were preparing to go on some sort of ritualistic mating procession, known as a "pub crawl"...also something i enjoyed more when i was 17. i decided to go with them, because i couldnt go back in that room quite yet, and the neighborhood seemd dark and i just wanted some friends. most of these kids (i say kids...they were about 18-24 years old) were already a bit drunk; it was some scottish girls 21st birthday. as we walked down the street, a pack of foreigners, i cringed and slunk toward the back, as all of the kids were loud, boisterous, shouting into the night, sloshing their to-go cups of whatever miscarriage of a long island ice tea they were devouring onto the shoes of the athenians sitting comfortably but appalled at their dinner tables. as i scouted out my "crawl" mates, i found that they were all english speakers: british, scottish, canadian, australian. for some reason this put me off. we got to the club, and as we were waiting to pay our entrance fee, this kid says, "hello, where are you from?", and when i said "u.s.", the kid snorted and said "oh, shit. well, its ok, just tell everyone youre canadian" (this, i gathered, is where he was from)...i looked at him and (oh my god, it was so mean and foul, i cant believe i said this) replied, "i would rather be impaled through the spine by the member of a particularly large stallion then ever. be. canadian". the kid didnt talk to me after that.
the club was idiotic, at best. the drunk girls were dancing like hookers with some scandinavian boys whose blond hair glowed blue in the black light. i couldnt take it. i left.
i began walking back the way we came, which was actually through a part of town that was called the "old city". it circled the acropolis, and the streets were heavy cobble stone and there were restaurants and flags and beautiful buildings. i was walking past this wine bar and some old man said, "hello! girl! come drink here!"...for some reason, i did. i actually stopped walking, looked at the man, sized up the bar, and said "well alright, what the hell". the bar was one of the prettiest bars that i have ever seen! the walls were lined floor to ceiling with shelves full of colorful jars of syrups, illuminated by track lighting that made the place glow multi-colored and euphoric. there were large barrels of wine that lined another wall, and a beautiful woman on a ladder would glide about, tipping the nozzels to dispense which ever wine or beer the lucky customers requested. the old man seemed surprised, but please, that i had actually come in, and he sat me down and said, "ok, describe your best wine". so i told him that currently, i liked white, very dry, not fruity, almost herbal, chilled without actually having to be cold temperature wise. he nodded like he understood and translated to the beautiful bar tender, and she brought me a fantatsic glass of wine from crete (i am learning to LOVE greek wines, they are so underrated). the old man was wonderful and smart and spoke great english. he wasnt creppy or anything, just a man who had lived in athens all of his life, but who had traveled extensively. we talked of other cities and times in history and he had me describe georgia to him. he knew the song, of course, and sang it to me, which was fun. he LOVED that i lived in athens, ga, and we went through and made a compare and contrast list between the two (ex: similarities: excellent sense of fashion, wild party scene, good food, columns, greeks (ha!). differences: bars stay open all night, thousands of years of history, the acropolis, etc).
after a while a group of guys came in and made their way to the bar beside us. i asked the one closest to me for the time, and he showed me his (swiss!) watch and laughed at me cause i said that i couldnt read it. he translated the time to me, and we got to talking, and it turns out he was from switzerland. he pointed to the group of boys that he was with and said, "we are all on a track and field team". i almost fell off my stool, it thought this was too cute. if you want, you can picture them all in red jumpsuits with headbands, white crosses stitched across their chests. this is pretty much accurate. they were all so so nice and cute and they LOVED that i was going to work on a farm. they, of course, all had farmers in their family, and one in particular (who was the captain of the team!) was the "son of a farmer", which they thought was a funny thing to say. i told them about how i was excited to work with pigs and they told me that in switzerland, they play music to the pigs to make them relax, and then they fill their room with laughing gas, and then they quickly shoot them in the temple. clean and pleasant. they said, however, that they bet in italy they just use "big knives".
after a while they decided to go to a club and i tagged along. they were all so jubilant and athletic and we ran down the streets hooting and laughing. turns out we went to the exact same club i had been at before. luckily the people from my hostel had gone. the club was pretty much empty, it was just me, the swiss track and field team, and a newlywed couple from canada (they were AMAZING!!!). the girl started talking to me (she looked like mia wallace from Pulp Fiction), and laughing cause she was like, "oh, my god, are you here with all of them?" and i, of course, thrilled, was like, "well, i guess so!". we all danced, and one of them swung danced with me to abba (he was a fabulous dancer, obviously very lithe, and when we were done he said "you like abba?" and i said, "yes, abba is my dogs favorite band!"), and we sang aerosmith songs and "sweet home alabama" which they liked and they said, "isnt that near you? are the skies really so so blue?".
after a while we went to a cafe across the streets and sat and talked till about 6:30am. i used quinn as a bargaining chip, saying, "if you let me come visit and teach me to ski, ill bring my little sister! shes beautiful!" (on of them, patrik, said, "but youre beautiful"), and they all told me that i must come visit (this guy simon, after telling him that i liked cold climates said, "you can stay in my fridge; theres enough room for you and your cheese"). it was just the funnest, cutest night ever, and i made it back to my hostel by 7am, woke up at 9am, and went to catch my flight to venice...
athens, over all, is absolutely some place i would like to spend more then 12 hours in. it was fun, vibrant i think is the word...artsy and fashionable and urban. gritty, too, though, and in no way fancy. the acropolis shined over me all night and the people were sweet...
oh dear, i have to go to class now, ill be back in a bit...

gahh!

011-39-331-8969651
that is my phone number. use it. because i am back in italia and my phone is working, hoorah!!!
oh dear god, so much to type about, but because finding internet access in this insane town is like pulling teeth or worse, i dont think i have time to properly blog...
once i figure out this system, ill write it all out.
my nights in athens, greece and venice, italy, were both wonderful, just perfect
my nights in udine since have been...interesting. also incrdibly frustrating and sad. but i think i like it here anyway.
call if you can, ill write asap
love, ele

ahahahahaha

oh my god, here's that clip from the office about afghanistinanis...too funny

www.youtube.com/watch?v=oGW3-ni9M8I

ok, photos are up.

here's the rest of berlin:
www.new.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2423833&l=02b44&id=4913936

here's greece:
www.new.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2426707&l=a560b&id=4913936

alright, im about to hop a ferry back to the mainland then head for athens, then venice, and then on to UDINE...school starts monday!

"yes we can!"

oh my god, on september 11, 2008, i, an american girl, was bitten, on the cheek, by a boy from afghanistan. seriously. how ironic could it get?
i went to kareoke night at that bar, on the rocks, last night, looking quite fabulous if i do say so...my tiger pumps made their debut appearance in greece and my newly-bronzed skin and beach-mane-hair went perfect with my all-black pleated highrise armani shorts and stitched top ensemble, topped off with my mama's pearls. kareoke was bizarre. as i explained before, this bar is totally confusing in its clash of cultures, and last night was even more extreme then the night before. no matter what country the people were from, though, they all sang english songs, and it seemed like not only did most people not know what the words were saying, they didnt even really know how the song went, so it all came out very disorienting and ill-timed and like hearing familiar songs sung to you underwater. i was with those boys again, the greek stavros and the italian tony (i guess they're like my friends now) and also another of their friends whose name i didnt really catch, and i think he was swedish or something but tony, who is not the brightest, insisted that he was from russia. anyway, we were all just sort of dancing and trying to sing along encouragingly, and across the room i noticed this sweet, sweet cute looking boy watching me. he looked so adorable and kind of scared and he was very handsom and he seemed sort of quiet and out of place but like he was trying to figure out how to fit in. i smiled at him and he blushed. one of his friends came up to me later and said, "my friend wants to talk to you", and i was like, ok, thats fine, thinking he was one of the poor albanian boys, and that i could just say hi. so he comes over and he speaks like, no english, but i ask where hes from and he said Afghanistan. i sort of reeled back because, i dont know, i guess i havent ever actually met someone from afghanistan, its just like this scary place america is involved with for dirty reasons, and it was weird to not only meet an afghani in person but to have thought he was cute and sweet. so i told him i was from america and he nodded and smiled and i was like, oh, what fun! we can be friends and bridge the gap and make peace and it will all be very diplomatic and poignant! so i got really excited and said how happy i was to meet him, etc. eventually i started talking to stavros again (who is really very sweet and smart) and the afghani walked away. i went to the bathroom though, a little later, and when i came into the sink room, the afghani was standing there. i thought, you know, its a coincidence, hello, goodbye, but no. the guy like, lunged at my mouth and i squealed and hopped back and turned my cheek. and when he didnt get my lips he bit my cheek! like just...bit it. i screamed and backhanded him on his mouth and ran scampering out of the bathroom. it wasnt scary really, or anything, just kind of wasnt expecting it. i went to tony and the "russian" and was like, "dude, that afghani boy just bit my cheek!". they totally didnt understand, they were like "kissed you? your cheek?" and i was like, "no no, bit, like this" and i grabbed tonys face and chomped down on his cheek. he screamed and his friend started laughing and then got really serious and was like, "wait, he did that, to you?" when i said yes the "russian" went over and started going off on the guy and eventually he left.
i was absolutely flabbergasted and pensive and kind of amused about the whole incident. the reality and depth and poignancy of what had just happened started to sink in, and i got very philosophical about it and was trying to wrap my head around all of the meaning behind it. i tried to explain to stavros how serious and important it could have been for me and the afghani to be friends, and how obvious and foresighted the actual outcome of such an encounter was, how it was totally metaphorical and, as john put it, an "apt microcosm of us-mideast relations". the funniest thing, though, is that, while trying to explain this, i was totally confused and pint-ridden, and i wasnt calling the guy "afghani", i was calling him "afghanistinani", like in The Office:

michael: my charity will be, "Afghanistanis with Aids".
jim: you mean, the 'aids of afghanistan'?
michael: nooo, 'afghanistanis with aids'
phillis: Afghani
michael: what?
phillis: afghani
michael: thats a dog.
pam: that's afghan.
michael: thats a shawl
creed: who has aids?
jim: guys, please. its the afghanistinanis.
michael: oh, shut up.

so anyway, i kept saying afghanistinanis, and when i would catch myself doing this i would start cracking up, and stavros, who probobly has no idea what the difference would be between that and the correct way in english, was totally confounded as to what in the world i was even talking about, going on and on both serious and pounding my fist on the table and then laughing histerically. it was all just rediculous.

anyway

today was one of the best days of my whole life. as i said, i rented a 4wheeler yesterday. its big and bulky but very fast and safe and i look so adorable in a helmet. i rode out to the beach, all along the edge of the ocean, through little towns and resorts trying to find the perfect sunbathing spot. i stopped at this perfect beach and lounged in the sun and watched more windsurfers, took a break to dine on swordfish souvlaki and was given free ouzo and a flower by the restaurant owner. when i felt sufficiently sunned, i decided to take my 4wheeler on an adventure, up in the mountains of naxos. the ride was incredible and exhilerating. once out of the beachy areas it become very sparse and desolate and only every now and then do you see people, but there are lots of cows and stark white churches and other beautiful things, and when you reach a highpoint you can see the ocean. i rode for hours, up mountains, through small settlements, through dense corn fields and tiny pathways. i took loads of pictures and i dont know that ive ever felt more beautiful in my life. i went all the way up to the very tip top of a mountain and stopped at the most beautiful, tiny church i have ever seen. i sat on the wall of the church for a good 2 hours, all the way until the sunset. therer was no one else around, no houses or anything, but down below i could see aman hearding sheep, and the view of the port of naxos was amazing, i was so far away. i just sat and thought and did some yoga stretches, and when the sun had finished setting i walked into the little church and put my hand on the alter and prayed for the first time in a long time. i felt totally clear and at peace and so so thankful and i told god all about it. i rode my
4wheeler home in the dying light, and at every turn you could see the sun setting over the ocean and the town. i am absolutely in love with greece.
tomorrow i catch a ferry back to the mainland, where ill stay in athens. time is short here, so im gonna go eat some olives and see the castle and soak it up.
love to you all!

oh, btw, maybe marion can help with this:
what in the world is so bad about the albanians that everyone is freaking out about them? in rome that crazy french guy, when he heard that the reason i was at the cafe was to see tony the greek, got really weird and i guess jealous and was like, "no, i heard him talk, he's not greek, he's albanian" and i was like, thats weird, why would anyone lie about that (he was definitely greek though). and then the old crazy british guy here was all histerical about them and tried to accuse tony from milan of being albanian (he even tried to ask for his passport! it was insane), so again, accusing someone of lying...anyway, its weird.

community of lost souls

so, i know the whole point of going to the greek isles is to "hop", so to speak, between them. i, however, do not have quite enough time to do that and still be content in my visit. i really like naxos, and its huge, and there are beaches like i have never laid eyes on before and i love my hotel and the people in the town...so i think im just going to stay here. i have to leave for athens friday morning, so that really only gives me one more day, and id rather spend it snorkling and riding my 4-wheeler then traveling, finding a new hotel, etc. also, ive made a little network of friends here...

i was walking about the town last night when i bumped into Stavros, a greek guy who is friends with that cute milano boy, antonio, at the restaurant where he works. i went up to say hello, and we chatted for a minute, and then antonio (tony, now) came out and said hi, and we all agreed to meet back at the club 'on the rocks' later that evening. i met them there about 10pm, and the bar was once again full of tourists, people from all over. some old british man started to talk to me, and about the time i realized he was crazy, another british guy (much younger) started talking to me (save!), and tony and stavros were hollering and passing me drinks, and the germans in the corner were laughing loudly about something and pounding their fists on the table and the swedish dj was spinning tracks and the albanians were dancing like fools and fixing their hair into fine points on the tops of their heads, and some sweet chilean girl was mooning over the benicio-del-torres-look-alike bar tender and whispering love words in spanish, and it was all just chaos. i was the only american there. as the night progressed, the younger british guy, graham, was "engaging" me in conversation about all things british and proper, i.e. manchester united, the queen mum, high tea, etc, and i was telling him all about my insights into british culture i.e. bridget jones, 'you are what you eat', colin firth vs hugh grant, and so on. the whole time we were trying to talk though, tony and stavros, who by this point were in full-on-party mode, were practically dancing on the bar, throwing shots around and shouting in italian, hugging on me and botching up english phrases and then laughing histerically. the other older british man was sitting near us talking mad shit about the albanians ("you watch yourself, lass, those albanians are only after two things; one of thems your billfold, and the other..." etc), the albanians were doing some sort of tribal club dance that involved spinning and hopping and whirling their arms, and the germans continued to bang on the table, deep in discussion. it was positively dizzying, and i was for the first time thrilled that i was from america so that i didnt have to take sides in this bizarre clash between northern and southern europeans. the differences in their behaviors were so striking, and it was obvious that everyone was weary and confused by the other. tony kept grabbing grahams shoulders and pointing to me, saying things like, "she so funny, love blondie, good legs" and graham would go all straight and rigid and say "well, i don't think thats a very complimentary thing to say to a lady. eleanor, do you need an escort home this evening?" and i would just laugh and put my head in my hands and shake my head and explain that, no, tony is fine, hes sweet, and i can take care of myself, and then tony would come up on the other side and say "he's boring you? want to save you?" and i would say no, no, grahams nice, we're fine. it was like, i could have gone either way. i could make good with the british and converse and be quite well behaved and discuss politics and current events and sip pints, or i could have begun throwing myself around the bar waving my arms madly and being wild and crazy like the italians, greeks, and albanians. it was all just so shockingly stereotypical, everyones nationalities beyond obvious, like they had neon signs on their heads.
the night was great fun, though, and i agreed to meet graham to go to the beach today. the insane Englishman wanted to meet at 10am, so i dragged myself up to our meeting point this morning and we set out. we went to a beach about 30 minutes away, by bus, and it was spectacular. there were rocky passes and cliffs floating in the water, which was bright blue and iridescent, and i swam way out and could see all the way down to the bottom. we layed in the sun and watched these guys windsurf (they were quite good, doing flips and all sorts of fun stuff), and had fresh fish at a little beach shack restaurant in the afternoon. eventually i decided to head home, and when i got back to town i decided to pop in on stavros for some souvlaki (his restaurant is written up in lonely planet as having the best souvlaki in the cyclades). the meat (lamb) was so so delicious. while i was eating though, i heard long, low wails coming from down the road, and when i looked i saw what was similar to a parade: a long line of people walking slowly, the front people carrying banners of crepe paper and flowers, and the people in the middle carrying some sort of float. oh, how fun, i thought. but then i noticed that everyone was in black shrouds, with cloth over their heads, and that the women in the front were all crying and holding onto each other for support. then realized that the float was not a float but a casket. it was a real greek funeral procession! everyone on the streets stopping moving and watched intently and stoically as the people passed. crosses were made over chests and prayers were uttered in the direction of the casket and all the people in the line were crying and rolling their heads on their necks. it was positively spooky and dense and so, so sad, like you could feel how deeply these people were mourning. stavros was behind me and he said, "it was an old woman, she lived in the mountains. they are carrying her to the church". it was one of the most beautiful scenes that i have ever witnessed.
after my souvlaki, i decided that i wanted to rent a moped. i went to the moped shop and the guy said, "are you experienced?". when i said no, he said "when people drive, and they know not how, and they fall, and i get a call from the hospital, and they say, 'man, one of your riders, they are hurt. BAD'. my heart. turns black...black. so i think, for me, you ride a 4wheeler." could not argue. so now i have a cute cute bright yellow 4wheeler to ride about town, and tomorrow i will take it to another beach, one that is suppose to be the most beautiful on the island.
i am brown as a nut and my hair is turning blond from the sun and this place is just perfect. tonight is kareoke night at 'on the rocks', so i think ill pop in...
ill try and post pictures soon, so be patient.

some italian girl tried to fight me!

greece. is. fantastic.
i am in heaven.
it was crazy for me to even come down here in the first place, but its working out well. marion and karl heinz were talking it up so much, and then there was that lost jude law lover boy in rome, and i figured that if i couldnt have him i might as well come to the country that produced such a creature and try my hand there.
i flew into athens from berlin, giggling, as i said, about strangling someone and feeling a bit queasy from da club the night (morning) before. i had no plans, no hotel, no reservations, no map, no concept of the language, no idea where to go...nothing. in my head i was hysterical, cursing myself for not planning ahead a little better, but outwardly i was cool as a cucumber...i got off the plane, boarded a bus to piraeus (the port city), found a pension by the boats, and snuggled in for the night, ready to hop a ferry to the islands in the morning.
i woke up at 8am, and found a ferry ticket office. the only problem was, the earliest ferry had already left, and the next one wasnt departing till 5:30! piraeus is not a very nice town, even in the wealthy sections...it is dirty and buisy and there are no sit down restaurants and its hot...i had to kill time all day and managed to get myself royally lost wandering around the city with my stupid, huge backpack on. at one point i just snapped: my backpack and all of my belonging were just too much, i had brought too much stuff. i sat down and took inventory, dividing piles of 'want', 'need', and 'can do without' (this is all taking place on a busy sidewalk...im sure people thought i was some hobo who had robbed a traveler). the pile of "can do without" included my marc jacobs perfume (i'm ok, i'm ok, i'm ok), my sparkly high heels (garh!!), my thick anthropologie sweater (probobly will need that...), 2 pairs of old shorts (have newer nicer CK ones), 3 tshirts and one nicer but older shirt, my hairdryer, 4 books, a 5star notebook, my hair brush (??), an old pair of headphones (not the nice ones), and a slew of makeup, batteries, and other heavy trinkets from the bottom of my purse. all of these things that mere minutes before i had held dear, i arranged neatly along the street, a grab bag for some lucky girl (extremely fucking lucky...damn i loved that perfume and those heels). i said a little prayer, and walked away, my pack a good 10lbs lighter. made all the difference.
the ferry to naxos was amazing. the mainland drifted away from us like a light grey cloud fading into the mist, and the sun set casting a red hue over the shimmery blue water. we sailed forever (i thought it was like a 2 hour boat ride? no, like 5 hours), and it got dark, and all around us was absolute blackness, nothing but the moon and venus there to guide our way. we docked in naxos and, once again, i had no idea where to go. i gathered my stuff and walked through the town, bustling and bright and calm, music spilling into the streets and people dancing and children running about. i walked into the first hotel i came to and asked for a room. the guy said that he didnt have one, but his friend did, and 3 miutes later this man came in, grabbed my bag, threw it into his renault, and drove me 1 minute down the road to another guest house. the area was even quieter and i could hear the ocean. it was too dark to get a good look at the area, but he pointed left to the town and right to the beach, and i said that that would be fine. the hotel is by no means nice, but it is quaint and charming, with a bright pink bathroom, my own balcony, a big bed that takes up pretty much the whole room and AIR CONDITIONING. its a 2 minute walk to town and 2 minutes to the beach. all of this for just 25euro a night!!!! is to amazing, thats like, a semi-decent dinner in rome.
the town is so cute and the people are all extremely kind and funny and talkative. i went to a little bar last night, just to have a beer before bed, and while i was reading my book studiously ignoring the loud americans singing bryan adams kareoke, this cute cute little guy comes up, and sits down. he told me his name is antonio (another one...) from milano, and he speaks like, zero english. he can speak german and spanish and obviously italian, though, so we managed to piece together a conversation and it was good for me to practice my italian. he said that my accent is perfect, and i think i scared him cause i would be like, "hm, no i dont understand, i cant speak italian" and then id bust out with some flawless yet scripted sentence like, "mi piace vado al disco con mia amica sabato sera" (e.g. "i like to go to the disco with my [girl]friend on saturday night"). he'd wheel around wide eyed and say, "so wait...you do speak italian? are you just joking?" he turned out to be some sort of breakdancer or something which i found hilarious, and at every lull in the conversation hed start like, disco dancing and bopping his head. was weird. anyway, later, this other girl next to us who was very loud and obviously a lesbian started talking to him, and he told me that she was italian too, from firenze. she had been giving me evil looks all night, i have no idea why, and then she said "ok, well, its obvious that you're american, but where in america are you from?" and when i said georgia she snorted and said "ok, thats all i needed to know", which i thought was rude. i responded something snippy and she freaked! started yelling at me kinda and going on and on in italian to her friends (who were german, im sure they thought she was crazy) about, as antonio put it, how "difficult" i was. he seemed concerned and eventually wouldnt translate what it was she was saying anymore. was v akward, and i eventually decided to go home. scared though, now, cause this town is small and im sure ill see her again...
anyway, the beach here is beautiful and relaxing and the food is FANTASTIC and everything is wonderful

germans do it better, berliners do it best

greetings from the isle of naxos, greece...
i made it here safe and sound after about 24 hours of pointless, absurd, daunting, and beautiful traveling.
but first...berlin...
i rode the train into the station in berlin, a 4 hour ride from duisburg, where marion and annika dropped me off at the gate with kisses and coffee. i was sitting in my seat, minding my own business, listening to music and not paying attention, when i realized the train had both stopped at my station, and was preparing to depart again. i scrambled up, lugged my enormous backpack off of an upper rack, whacking an old lady with a black bouffant in the face with a loose shoulder strap, and threw myself out the door and onto the platform right as the doors snapped shut. struggling to get my backpack on my shoulders, i began looking around for billy. the thing is, i hadnt even seen billy, not hide nor hair in photograph or in person, for like, 5 years, so i wasnt quite sure what i was looking for. like german engineering, though, he was standing there, staring at me, totally on time, and totally in the right spot. the first words out of his mouth were, "jesus christ, flip flops. and of course you had to come at 11 in the morning. you parkers are crazy. ive just come from a party, do i smell? hm, your bag looks heavy, you'd better hang on to it."
was billy, just the same as always! however, if i do say so, the boy has lost his baby cheeks and grown about a foot and is looking quite dashing (i.e. more and more like stephan) in his older years...i was pleasantly surprised, a little flustered, and thrilled with the comfortable, nagging rapport that we had going. the history on this, as im sure yall know, is that when billy lived with my family, i couldnt stand him. it wasnt anything that he did; infact, ive come to acknowledge the fact that he was probably just as hilarious and crazy and brilliant then as he is now (relatively, im sure age helps)...but at the time, when i was 15, i was just not into some german kid getting all the attention and hogging shotgun and being friends with rob leake when boys like that wouldnt even look at me. so i gave him hell.
anyway, now we are as good as gold. billy is positively hillarious. its hard being able to make witty remarks and cutting accusations and have intelligent conversations in a language foreign to your own, but his english is near perfect, aside from some rather adorable slips, and the boy is absolutely brilliant.
on the way to his apartment billy led me through a maze of trains and trams, all the while munching on gum and rubbing his temples, clearly the victim of a long, hard night out. on the train to his neighborhood, he attempted to get me a ticket but, seeing the long, daunting line, his reddened eyes narrowed and he said, "no, no, no tickets, just come on". 2 minuted into the ride, of course, the ticket guy comes over, asking to punch our passes. i dont have one, and the penalty is 40euro cash. i said, "billy, my god, im going to fucking kill you". billy tilted his head, laughed a bit, and said, "you know what your dad would say if this happened to him? he'd say 'well ill be a monkeys uncle', and then use this as a great story that he could tell over 2 millions times, always keep it up his sleeve, the time he got fucked over in berlin. you should consider doing the same." my god, i had to laugh. and i did, i laughed hysterically, because he was totally right, and i would have never thought of that, as a means for dealing with something stupid or as an anecdote for how well, in alot of ways, my father dealt with inconvenient things. after that, billy was, as far as im concerned, amazing.
we had a great first day. instead of dumping me at his apartment while he slept off the previous night (he'd been up 29 hours at this point), billy raged full force into the streets, taking me on sightseeing tours of stuff like the parliament, some courthouse (billy was like, "i have no idea what that building is, ive never even seen it, lets go in..."), the berlin wall (!), and the absolutely wonderful, hip neighborhood that he lives in. we had a full day, and even stopped for currywurst, the disgusting treat that berliners consider their local specialty.
that night we went "bar tending" with his big brother andy, whom i had met when i was like...10. andy was positively brilliant and funny too, though not as mean and base as billy, much more calm and wise (billy said, "just cause he agrees with what you say doesnt make him wise, sheesh"). we talked for a long, long time over camparis about organic vs local vs genetically modified foods, each of us taking a different stance in the argument. we also talked politics, both the kunzler boys recounted amazing stories of how severe and ridiculous my family was in their right-wing republican beliefs (billy recalled: "i'll never forget...it was al gore vs george bush, and the parker children were made to wake up at 6am and come to the yard and stand in front of a flag and pray to george bush. i refused, of course, and bryan threatened to send me home. then one time, quinn asked, 'daddy, if im a republican and claudia is a democrat, can we still be friends?', and bryan said, 'hm...i dont think so".) was too too funny, and they were thrilled to hear that we've all switched to the side of angels (D). also, they were asking what grant was doing, and somehow the loud music and camparis and language barrier mixed everything up, and when i tried to explain that grant was "directing plays" and "working to become a coroner", andy thought that i had said that grant was directing planes and using dead people as props in pornographic theater, to which billy exclaimed, "who the hell would let grant parker direct a plane?" and andy was like,"they use dead people?". it was too much.
billy and i stayed out till 6 am or so, hanging around with cute berlin boys and eating turkish food and playing foosball. we got home and slept will 4pm the next evening.
saturday night got off to a slow start. we were obviously sluggish, so we dragged ourselves up, got some coffee, ate some vietnamese food, and then commenced to lay about till it was time to go out again. berliners party extremely hard. billy's friend florian came to stay with him, and when i met him he was standing in the kitchen, shirtless, fresh and filthy from a 3 week trip around spain with his girlfriend, about 6'4, dark (mixed italian and greek, raised german...may be the best combo yet), extremely shockingly attractive, and grinning from ear to ear. he was so so sweet and funny, all of billys friends were. 2 others came over as well and they were all so engaging and cute and they talked to me and asked me questions and were clever and spoke amazing english and were kind of assholes in a refreshing way (i.e. they werent just nice and polite, but kind of brutal and honest and witty) and it was so much fun. they were all totally enamoured and confused and pleasantly surprised to hear what exactly it was i was in europe for, farming and all. the boys dubbed me "not a typical american girl", which ive been getting alot of, actually.
it was pouring rain outside, so we scampered to a bar and hang out for a bit. at one point i told florian that he looked not like a 22 year old political science guy, but like a 26 year old greek shipping company heir, a greek billionaire was how i put it, and he loved that. billys other friend toby started talking to me about what a horrible time he had around american girls when he was in australia, how they were all just like in the movies and how europeans known that most american girls just come to europe for the boys (i didnt deny this, defended it actually), but then said, "well, you know, im really just here for the cheese." toby was like, shocked, and said "wow, thats like...the greatest sentence ive ever heard, especially coming from the mouth of an american. 'im just here for the cheese'...im gonna make that my facebook quote". later, billy, florian, and i scampered to the "dirty" club in the pouring rain, billy and i huddled under a tiny umbrella that i was horrible at holding so the rain poured onto billys takeaway pizza, or me cowering under the corner of florians jacket while we splashed through puddles.
the club was a blast, so so wild and fun and the djs were great and i think it was even better that it was so rainy because there was room to dance. we danced and ran amuck for hours, the boys saying hilarious things that made me laugh that loud, blunt laugh of mine that i reserve for late nights and particularly funny situations. when we emerged it was bright daylight. we skipped home through the streets, the only people up and about, and even stopped into a morning bakery for fresh pastries. at home we crashed into bed at 8am and slept well into the afternoon...
after a nice brunch at a sidewalk cafe, billy took me to the airport. he was such an angel, carrying my backpack not just to the train station, but literally riding with me all the way out to the airport and walking me to my gate. on the way in i told him that i was worried, because i hate so much to fly, and am always convinced that my plane will crash. billy exclaimed, "but a plane crash would be the best way to go! you'd know it was going to be the end, so you'd have a free 5 minutes, the most free 5 minutes of your whole life! you could bang a stewardess, or shoot heroin, or spit on someones face or kill a guy with your bare hands, whatever, cause there'd be no way to get in trouble, it'd all be over. you could literally do, whatever you wanted." this made me die laughing, and i was like "oh my god, could you imagine being in a plane and it was crashing and while you're sitting there with your life flashing before your eyes some guy turns around and strangles you? it would be amazing, you would never ever expect that". anyway, this got me through my flight, and i kept bursting into giggles thinking about it, the turkish lady next to me looking at me wearily, as though she knew exactly what was going through my head.
berlin, in a nutshell, was fantastic. its hip and fun and wild and free and so so youthful and sprightly. i loved it.
however, now i am in greece...
ill blog when i get a feel for this place...it seems amazing already!!!

"i hadnt packed for that..." -tobias funke

oh my goodness, i seriously have not had time to blog in days...
i left rome monday morning after a very very long night out at the cookbook cafe, etc...antonio had slept over at the apartment (i.e. he had come home sunday night because he had work monday morning, and he slept on the couch while i took the futon) and the sweet boy woke me up at 7am, about 2 hours after i went to bed. i ran about the apartment like a maniac, chugging fizzy water and spritzing myself with perfume and scanning the floors and bookshelves to make sure that i had collected all of my belongings, and then antonio and i walked (he in running shorts looking fresh-faced, me a mess, vile-headed, trying not to puke) to the taxi station, where we kissed (cheeks) goodbye, and i set out for the airport.
the flight to duisburg was fine, a bit bumpy. we landed on time, and marion was waiting there by her audi stationwagon, blond and beautiful as always. as soon as i got into her car i realized what a mess i was: my legs and feet were coated in weeks worth of soot, my finger nails were scraggly and chipped, my hair all a dirty poof. it was like i was some drink-sodden street-urchin refugee in from rome, city of filth, and i had landed in a country where there was only soft grass and warm showers and rain. it wasnt my fault necessarily; i showered every day in rome and took careful watch over my grooming habits...its just that rome is absolutely filthy, hot and sooty and raging, and no matter how hard you try you sink into the elements and become a part of that. as soon as i got to marions i took a long, hot bath, washing away all of rome that was left on my skin, emerging bright and pink cheeked like the germans.
marion's house is lovely!! it is so wonderfully cozy and modern and full of personality. i reread grants blog about when he described the house, and i laughed at his observation that all the rooms were rectangles, while in america our rooms are square. the kitchen was brilliant, with a stove that doesnt get hot to the touch but boils water in a minute, some sort of magnetism, and a built in steemer for vegetables and drawers that seems to close on their own accord. marion took me to the grocery store and let me pick out whatever i wanted for dinner. my choice, as i had been eating nothing but pizza and panini for 2 weeks, was VEGETABLES and a ROAST CHICKEN!!! marion didnt think the grocery store even sold whole chickens, but they did, and that night i taught her how to stuff lemon slices under the skin, and put parsley and thyme in the cavity and glaze it with melted butter both after and before salt and peppering it. dinner was a miracle, and all the sickness and exhaustion and dirt that had followed me from my beautiful rome was washed away by the food, kindness, and cool weather.
that was another thing: duisburg was cold!! so cold. as tobias funke said in arrested development, "i hadnt packed for that". i brought no closed toe shoes but tennis shoes (tigers!), and only one sweater, which was dirty of course. the air felt so good and revitalizing, though. the town looked and smelled like autumn, and reminded me, oddly, of the movie 'hocus pocus'.
the days all went by so fast, due in part to marion, annika, and karl heinz' dedication to not letting me "be bored". i went all over the place with them, including the wonderful swimming club where karl heinz plays water polo, the thyssenkrupp factory, where Kalla and his class and i saw a demonstration on making steel, annika's school's "sport" festival, the school where marion and kalla work, and a nice dinner in dusseldorf, where i had my first schnitzel.
the last evening i was there i went with annika to her job, where she is a swim instructor for little kids. we went in the water with them and i helped while annika guided them around the pool, helping them learn to doggie paddle and splash and generally stay afloat. the children were so sweet, and one little girl kept talking to me, constantly, even though annika told her i didnt speak german. she even knew my name, and when we were leaving the little girl shouted, "tschus, ele-na!!!". was too adorable.
karl heinz is absolutely the sweetest man ever. hes like a big bratwurst made of sugar, and he was so kind to me and talked to me all the time and was full of interesting insights, and he spoke wonderful english. was so cute, cause he always used the word "possible", as a replacement for "can" or "available" or anything else. something was either "possible" or "not possible". i loved it, was so simple. he taught me how to play lots of great games, and gave me a tour of the school, and showed me photo albums of his and marions trips, which are numerous and all very exotic.
marion is possibly the most wonderful woman ever. she reminds me so much of sheryl baggett, just constantly kind and funny and insightful and great to sit with and talk politics or current events or anything. she told me all sorts of funny stories about my family, gave me outlines of all of their personalities, and filled me in on life in cornelia far before i was born. we went through old photos of everyone, and i was so so proud to be a grant i could have cried. marion has been absolutely wonderful to me, and i have no idea how to repay her and karl heinz and annika for all of their kindness.
oh, duisburg was wonderful, but it went by so fast!!!
i am in berlin now, at billy kunzler's (billy!!!). all is safe and well, and ill write all about berlin tomorrow, after ive had time to soak up some of this city.
i miss roma...

i just had a dinner of pork tenderloin cutlets, cherry yougrt, and bizarre chocolate sandwich cookies...feeling quite replete...

ok, so, lets see where we left off...
ah yes, i was eating a salad and waiting for the greek to come ring my bell...
but, of course, he didnt show.
for about 45 min i contemplated suicide, stared at my pores in the mirror (convinced that they were the culprit!), whimpered and mumbled, and , yes, drank campari straight from the bottle. but, at 9:15, i turned my sorrow off like a light and went out. i figured, there's already been so much fate and coincidences and strange happenings in the past 24 hours, something has to come from all of this, so i had better go see what it is.
i put on a pretty dress and my lucky tiger pumps, nana's pink ring and my mama's bracelet, and hit the town. i wandered down into trastevere, the crazy locals neighborhood across the river, and waded through the throngs of people, trying to keep my spirits up. it must have been a good half hour of walking arond and around, through alleys and piazzas, all the while watching the italians go mad for a saturday night in rome. just when i was starting to get mopey again, and had decided that i had better just go home and watch clips from moulin rouge on youtube because no one loves me and there is nothing special about this night, my phone rang. thinking it was john or someone, i answered "buona sera!?!", in a sharp, relieved, overexcited voice. the voice on the other end of the phone said, "uh...haha, buona sera! um, eleanor?". turns out it was this absolute angel alessandro, a guy from siscily, who i had met, ironically, at the greek's cafe. i guess i had been so worked up over spilled (chocolate) milk that i forgot entirely that i had had a date planned for saturday night. alessandro was sitting at the cafe earlier in the week (the day, i believe, that tony had told me he was from greece and i freaked and locked my keys in), and he had started talking to me about 'a confederacy of dunces' , which i was reading, because he said that he had read it once before, too. turns out alessandro makes olive oil on his family's farm in siscily, and is a chemist who works with wine and olive oil, and had even been to the university of udine to aid in some research (univ. of udine, btw, is a food science college...i havent just been making this whole thing up). anyway, he was very sweet and had eyes the color of olives, but i guess i had been so distracted that i forgot i had given him my number and he said we'd have dinner saturday, "roman time".
so alessandro and i decided to meet in the big piazza at the foot of the bridge to trastevere. he took me to this sweet little trattoria that served mussels in white wine and we had tiramisu and a beer i was so glad that i was already dressed up and ready for a night out instead of sitting in my nightgown frowning at the wall. we talked about food and he told me all about olive oil and i told him all about the Slow Food Movement's immersion into american life (which is pocketed, but promising), and he gave me the run down on all the different areas of italy and the ways of life and how they differ and i told him about the differences between yankees and southerners. afterward we walked the streets and watched the people, and i had no idea where i was, it is all such a maze, but then i turned a corner...and there was the cookbook bar!!! i looked in the doorway and alessio, the sweet owner, saw me and smiled and waved. i said i wanted to go in, and alessandro said that he needed to go on home cause he was going to the roma-napoli football match in the morning, so we embraced and promised to keep in touch.
the rest of the night was a wonderful blur...the people at the cookbook bar all remembered me, of course, because i had acted like a maniac the other night, but they were so sweet and funny about it and everyone remembered my name and told me that they were so glad to see me again. we made toasts and one sweet boy named paolo made the toast "to udine!", because they think its hilarious that im going there ("its like going to study in connecticut!"). i talked to alessio, the owner, who is too cute for words, about REM, and hung out with my most favorite italian ever, the chilean boy, estevan, and we blew bubbles in the street and went to get gyro wraps and discussed japan. it was just so wonderful and nice to have friends and feel like i knew people after being alone for so long. also, its strange in those situations when you realize that, for the first time in a long time, you can mke friends and have conversations with stangers, like in kindergarten when like, anyone was a potential friend and cliques and social consciousness and judgements had not been formed, and only common interests and immediate events factored in. feel like in alot of ways i am the same but theres different sides of myself that i never realized existed. im actually quite charming and witty, who knew?
so, anyway, despite the loss of the greek boy, rome ended on more of a high note then i ever thought it would. the whole trip was incredible, but i feel like it will take some time before i can really understand what it all meant or how i feel or what that city means to me. ill reflect on it all and get back to you.
now, however, i am in GERMANY!!! oh my god, its been 2 days and i have so so much to say...
not now though...now i have to go to sleep, because i am going to get up early and go to the harbour with carl heinz...something to do with steel...
love!

disclaimer

oh, opps, haha, it seems that i didnt tell most people a valuable bit of information: john and i are broken up. we split, amicably and mutually, before i left for europe. it just seemed like we needed different things, at least for a while, and so we are no longer bf&gf and will not live together in athens anymore and are both, currently, single. we are, of course, still the very best of friends, as john is my favorite, most dear love, and maybe sometime in the future when we realize that everyone else in the world is not even to be bothered with we´ll go on a date. i am not, therefore, running amuck in europe cheating on him and then blogging about it, so dont worry, im not that simple. john is supportive of me, and i of him (until he actually starts to date someone else, then i will have a meltdown and murder them both...), and i tell him everything so no one is getting wounded here. there is only the upmost love, respect, and friendship between us. i hope that never changes.