holy moly pejoly i made it! it a miracle from heaven! is hot, sunny, spanish, wild, peaceful, and just fantastic!
made it to my hostel near la rambla and found sweet freddie awaiting my arrival. we immediately went out to the market, where we gorged on spanish delicacies andthen walked through the sunlit winding streets...
ok, is 10pm and freddie and i are about to go out to find somewhere to eat (so spanish, eh), ill write more later
e
Friday, February 27, 2009
Thursday, February 26, 2009
well so im an idiot and as a result i am still in rome. or...i am fated and guided by God to never ever leave this city and as a result i am still in rome. depends on how you look at it.
yesterday i woke up rather early for my now all too familiar "last morning in rome", and was in the kitchen having my customary "last cup of coffee and cigarette in the happy days kitchen with richard" when ryan, the boy from new orleans walked in, and asked me what my plans were. i told him i wasnt quite sure, but that i wanted to walk through campo di fiori, hit up my favorite coffee shop, say a prayer in a beautiful church, and contemplate the meaning of life on Ponte Sisto, at that spot where if you stand tilted up a bit on your right foot while facing west and leaning forward just far enough so that your fingers touch the top of the moss growing on the side of the stone you can see distinctly the shimmering of the windows of st.peters reflecting all the way down into the river. he asked if he could tag along, and i was thrilled to have such pleasant company.
we went about in the bright morning sun...rome this past week or two has been absolutely stunning weather wise. before this it was rain nonstop, which i didnt mind actually, but of late, oh my god, days bright enough to blind you if you stare too long at anything beautiful and weather worthy of a nice clean sweater and the occasional warm breath into cupped hands. we had coffe at the best shop in rome, a lardo panino at a small shop i happened to wander into the other day, making immediate friends with the butcher who sliced me paper thin pieces of lardo that seemingly melted before i was able to get them into my mouth, and stopping for a fresh apple from the campo de fiori market. we were walking along the street toward the spanish steps, when on our left we noticed a large building surounding an immaclately mishandled and bountiful garden, an orange grove and a jungle within the city walls. theere were large metal gates swinging shut to lock this garden away forever, and ryan grabbed my sleeve and said, well cmon! and we slipped in, past the shutting gate right as it clinked closed. once inside it seemed the noise from the city stopped. there was a moon of old, greening and crumbled marble statues surrounding a peagravel courtyard. fountains were about, turned off but holding mossy water like deserted catholic birdbaths, just enough for a finger dip. in the center a giant tree, branches sunk nearly to the ground with oranges, and it was fragrant and just so obvious and perfect. we went and picked our choice of fruit, and stood in the sunny grass eating the oranges and discussing what in the hell this little oasis was. we found a sign: the spanish embassy. we immediately giggled at the realisation that there were cameras all over the marbled walls, watching us and waiting to pounce. inside we found an elevator shaped like an egg, with a leather bench and stained glass windows, and we shut the metal doors and rose all the way to the top where there was a view of rome toward the villa bourghesee, the spanish steps. after sneaking past the official spaniards coming in from their lunch break (not their free lunch in the garden), we made our escape and wandered on.
in the midst of the designer shops around the spanish steps, ryan points out a store i had never seen before, entitled "eleanora". considering it was my italian namesake, we figured we should stop in and check it out. designer boutique clothes, crystal studded ipods, and in the back one of those old fashioned bars in a dressing room, where they swoon you with champagne and tiny finger sandwiches and encourage you to spend $3000 on a cardigan. i tuned to leave and ryan decided that no, we should ahve a drink, why not, and i should try on that dress id been eying. so we sat, and ate, and i pranced about in a $2000 sequined jacket (not NEARLY as cool as moms copper top!), and we pretended to be rich until the clock struck 2 amd it was time for me to catch my plane.
so i made my adiues again (again!) and made the journey to the airport. went to the check in desk, all stoic and sunglasses and "arrivederci roma" and couldnt find my damned passport. where is passport. have no idea. rip apart entire suitcase, slewing teddy bears and camisoles and stinky shoes all about in a panic. remain calm on outside. return to desk with drivers license, was told is not valid. fuck. oh god. so i call my mother. brain and life seems to come crashing down, because for some reason i am constantly on the verge of a nervous breakdown these days, its the combination of homesickness and transiency and constant rotation and passionate emotions, and instead of dealing with the reality (v. annoying, miss my plane, go to embassy, ahaha, back to hostel, campari, will go tomorrow or not, c-est la vie...) im like...its all over. i am a disaster. i should have: gone to france, stayed home, not had pizza twice in one day, studied more, not cheated on that test in 4th grade, called mimi more often, given that homeless lady the euro i had in my sweaty greedy palm instead of buying my 2nd cappucinno of the day...i am going to collapse, i have to go home, i should never have come, i will fail school, i will fail life, i am broke, death, etc.
mother, of course, is totally calm. we laugh a bit. guess ill go back to the hostel. heh. ahaha. hm. is ok. is God. there is a point damnit.
sit and wait for the bus for an hour, trying to talk myself out of anger and doing to math to compensate for the lost money on the plane ticket and wondering where the hell i left my passport. got back to the hostel and they opened the door before i even rang the bell. it was josef, my angel, the manager whom i have become better than bosom comrades with, the best friend of the evil spaniard who held my hand and giggled with me and talked me out of tricking myself into being sad, who dances with me constantly and makes me pasta. he was here! he had been away, the entire past time at the hostel, on vacation, making this return less magical than the others. i see him and i squeal and i throw my arms around his neck and i dont even care about the stupid flight anymore, good things abound!
the night is great, and this mornign i woke up bright an early with a mission: US embassy. i feel very cool, infact, marching ymself in there. is a big long line outside and i walk right up to the front and declare (in my most american accent) "yes, hello. i am an american citizen (i am!) and i have lost my passport!" Prego, the say, and wave me past security, all opened doors and nodding heads and smiles as though we grew up together, know a secret. the guy at the desk is amazing, totally adorable, nothing but american, probobly raised in boise or some place solid with lots of cows, and the whole process, the whole danged process, takes 45 min. they even give me a cup of coffee. in a mug. i am in heaven. by 9:30am i am back on the streets and back in action for real! i rebook another flight to barcelona, call good old freddie and give him the good news, and lord permitting i will meet him on Las Ramblas by noon tomorrow. Spain indeed! hoorah!
ok, have to go now, theres a line for the computer. i love you all!
yesterday i woke up rather early for my now all too familiar "last morning in rome", and was in the kitchen having my customary "last cup of coffee and cigarette in the happy days kitchen with richard" when ryan, the boy from new orleans walked in, and asked me what my plans were. i told him i wasnt quite sure, but that i wanted to walk through campo di fiori, hit up my favorite coffee shop, say a prayer in a beautiful church, and contemplate the meaning of life on Ponte Sisto, at that spot where if you stand tilted up a bit on your right foot while facing west and leaning forward just far enough so that your fingers touch the top of the moss growing on the side of the stone you can see distinctly the shimmering of the windows of st.peters reflecting all the way down into the river. he asked if he could tag along, and i was thrilled to have such pleasant company.
we went about in the bright morning sun...rome this past week or two has been absolutely stunning weather wise. before this it was rain nonstop, which i didnt mind actually, but of late, oh my god, days bright enough to blind you if you stare too long at anything beautiful and weather worthy of a nice clean sweater and the occasional warm breath into cupped hands. we had coffe at the best shop in rome, a lardo panino at a small shop i happened to wander into the other day, making immediate friends with the butcher who sliced me paper thin pieces of lardo that seemingly melted before i was able to get them into my mouth, and stopping for a fresh apple from the campo de fiori market. we were walking along the street toward the spanish steps, when on our left we noticed a large building surounding an immaclately mishandled and bountiful garden, an orange grove and a jungle within the city walls. theere were large metal gates swinging shut to lock this garden away forever, and ryan grabbed my sleeve and said, well cmon! and we slipped in, past the shutting gate right as it clinked closed. once inside it seemed the noise from the city stopped. there was a moon of old, greening and crumbled marble statues surrounding a peagravel courtyard. fountains were about, turned off but holding mossy water like deserted catholic birdbaths, just enough for a finger dip. in the center a giant tree, branches sunk nearly to the ground with oranges, and it was fragrant and just so obvious and perfect. we went and picked our choice of fruit, and stood in the sunny grass eating the oranges and discussing what in the hell this little oasis was. we found a sign: the spanish embassy. we immediately giggled at the realisation that there were cameras all over the marbled walls, watching us and waiting to pounce. inside we found an elevator shaped like an egg, with a leather bench and stained glass windows, and we shut the metal doors and rose all the way to the top where there was a view of rome toward the villa bourghesee, the spanish steps. after sneaking past the official spaniards coming in from their lunch break (not their free lunch in the garden), we made our escape and wandered on.
in the midst of the designer shops around the spanish steps, ryan points out a store i had never seen before, entitled "eleanora". considering it was my italian namesake, we figured we should stop in and check it out. designer boutique clothes, crystal studded ipods, and in the back one of those old fashioned bars in a dressing room, where they swoon you with champagne and tiny finger sandwiches and encourage you to spend $3000 on a cardigan. i tuned to leave and ryan decided that no, we should ahve a drink, why not, and i should try on that dress id been eying. so we sat, and ate, and i pranced about in a $2000 sequined jacket (not NEARLY as cool as moms copper top!), and we pretended to be rich until the clock struck 2 amd it was time for me to catch my plane.
so i made my adiues again (again!) and made the journey to the airport. went to the check in desk, all stoic and sunglasses and "arrivederci roma" and couldnt find my damned passport. where is passport. have no idea. rip apart entire suitcase, slewing teddy bears and camisoles and stinky shoes all about in a panic. remain calm on outside. return to desk with drivers license, was told is not valid. fuck. oh god. so i call my mother. brain and life seems to come crashing down, because for some reason i am constantly on the verge of a nervous breakdown these days, its the combination of homesickness and transiency and constant rotation and passionate emotions, and instead of dealing with the reality (v. annoying, miss my plane, go to embassy, ahaha, back to hostel, campari, will go tomorrow or not, c-est la vie...) im like...its all over. i am a disaster. i should have: gone to france, stayed home, not had pizza twice in one day, studied more, not cheated on that test in 4th grade, called mimi more often, given that homeless lady the euro i had in my sweaty greedy palm instead of buying my 2nd cappucinno of the day...i am going to collapse, i have to go home, i should never have come, i will fail school, i will fail life, i am broke, death, etc.
mother, of course, is totally calm. we laugh a bit. guess ill go back to the hostel. heh. ahaha. hm. is ok. is God. there is a point damnit.
sit and wait for the bus for an hour, trying to talk myself out of anger and doing to math to compensate for the lost money on the plane ticket and wondering where the hell i left my passport. got back to the hostel and they opened the door before i even rang the bell. it was josef, my angel, the manager whom i have become better than bosom comrades with, the best friend of the evil spaniard who held my hand and giggled with me and talked me out of tricking myself into being sad, who dances with me constantly and makes me pasta. he was here! he had been away, the entire past time at the hostel, on vacation, making this return less magical than the others. i see him and i squeal and i throw my arms around his neck and i dont even care about the stupid flight anymore, good things abound!
the night is great, and this mornign i woke up bright an early with a mission: US embassy. i feel very cool, infact, marching ymself in there. is a big long line outside and i walk right up to the front and declare (in my most american accent) "yes, hello. i am an american citizen (i am!) and i have lost my passport!" Prego, the say, and wave me past security, all opened doors and nodding heads and smiles as though we grew up together, know a secret. the guy at the desk is amazing, totally adorable, nothing but american, probobly raised in boise or some place solid with lots of cows, and the whole process, the whole danged process, takes 45 min. they even give me a cup of coffee. in a mug. i am in heaven. by 9:30am i am back on the streets and back in action for real! i rebook another flight to barcelona, call good old freddie and give him the good news, and lord permitting i will meet him on Las Ramblas by noon tomorrow. Spain indeed! hoorah!
ok, have to go now, theres a line for the computer. i love you all!
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
oof. head hurts quite a bit actually. went to a party that a friend of mine from rome was having, sort of a house warming type event. brought along a new friend, a boy named ryan from New Orleans. i was in the kitchen yesterday around noon, making my morning coffee (school starts soon) and chatting with vinny, a brazilian who works at the hostel who is getting his italian citizenship and has offered to marry me so we can make a trade (american passport for italian, that sort of thing), and this kid comes in and about 3 sentences in to our "hello who are you where you from" thing declares that he would absolutely kill for some fried chicken. my response: well darling, you have met your girl. vinny, ryan and i took a walk through this fantastic neighborhood in the bright early spring sunshine, and stopped in the market on the way back for ingredients for our southern feast. fried gizzards, legs and thighs, green beans, rice and gravy, corn bread...
ryan and i went searching for corn meal and found it at this beautiful store across the street from the hostel where they import international goods, everything from oreos and quinoa to spanish cheeses and coconut milk. they had an american food section with fruit by the foot and various other blasts from the pasts. was wonderful being in there with ryan, who picked up a pack of Worthers Originals and asked, "do you remember this commercial? with the old man at the table in the tweed sweater?" and i laughed and said yes, i watched that weird commercial every morning while i did my Zoro (if i was up really early)-Lassie-Flipper-Munsters-Saved by the Bell run through.
the cornbread turned out a bit weird but delicious still, and the chicken was great, and while i cooked ryan told me stories about New Orleans during katrina. hes from the city and though his house and family was spared, instead of fleeing to memphis he spent the week in the city helping to reunite families and bring medical supplies to the sick and was in charge of a make-shift orphanage for little kids who couldnt find their families. was incredible hearing the first hand account, such a heartbreaking situation, and it was great to hear stories of bravery and selflessness and the little and big things that people did to help others. after dinner i asked if he would like to accompany me to a party, and i put on a dress and we were off. the party was nice, a small gathering of friendly, jovial italians who have taken a liking to me. the best part was late in the evening, when the italians were speaking in romano and ryan and i joked that we didnt have a dialect to fall abck on, and he was like, you know i bet if we spoke in ebonics they couldnt understand...and we were off, our ATL and NO exposure pouring out, and he was right, they had no idea what we were saying. was fantastic.
so im leaving this precious city tomorrow, heading in to barcelona. dear freddie from france is going to come meet me and i plan on eating alot of cheese and dancing into the wee morning hours. not so keen on the spanish men anymore but well see...
love, ele
ryan and i went searching for corn meal and found it at this beautiful store across the street from the hostel where they import international goods, everything from oreos and quinoa to spanish cheeses and coconut milk. they had an american food section with fruit by the foot and various other blasts from the pasts. was wonderful being in there with ryan, who picked up a pack of Worthers Originals and asked, "do you remember this commercial? with the old man at the table in the tweed sweater?" and i laughed and said yes, i watched that weird commercial every morning while i did my Zoro (if i was up really early)-Lassie-Flipper-Munsters-Saved by the Bell run through.
the cornbread turned out a bit weird but delicious still, and the chicken was great, and while i cooked ryan told me stories about New Orleans during katrina. hes from the city and though his house and family was spared, instead of fleeing to memphis he spent the week in the city helping to reunite families and bring medical supplies to the sick and was in charge of a make-shift orphanage for little kids who couldnt find their families. was incredible hearing the first hand account, such a heartbreaking situation, and it was great to hear stories of bravery and selflessness and the little and big things that people did to help others. after dinner i asked if he would like to accompany me to a party, and i put on a dress and we were off. the party was nice, a small gathering of friendly, jovial italians who have taken a liking to me. the best part was late in the evening, when the italians were speaking in romano and ryan and i joked that we didnt have a dialect to fall abck on, and he was like, you know i bet if we spoke in ebonics they couldnt understand...and we were off, our ATL and NO exposure pouring out, and he was right, they had no idea what we were saying. was fantastic.
so im leaving this precious city tomorrow, heading in to barcelona. dear freddie from france is going to come meet me and i plan on eating alot of cheese and dancing into the wee morning hours. not so keen on the spanish men anymore but well see...
love, ele
Thursday, February 19, 2009
hmph. stupid boys. to hell with them.
anyway, will not dwell. am marvelous and brilliant and the coolest girl primarily because i am working wonders in the world by having foreign english speakers adopt the term YALL. is wonderful.
so, brilliant fortuna has granted a little coincidence in my life. when i arrived back at the hostel the other day i was wandering down the hallway toward my room and out of another room walks this beautiful red head girl. i recognize her instantly as a girl who both went to high school with me, and UGA. her name is erika pinner and shes the younger sister of a boy from my class. shes also friends with grantboy and his roommates. i have known of her for years because she is strikingly beautiful and glamorous and always very fashionable, but weve never really talked. so we recognize each other and theres not much to say except "well i'll be a monkeys uncle" or something because of course shes here, i was expecting to see another marietta kid any minute really.
i want to recount all the things that occured last week in veneto, but im not sure where to start. i know...will go buy a new notebook because my other one is full, will go find a nice place to sit in the sunshine, and i will write write write...
anyway, will not dwell. am marvelous and brilliant and the coolest girl primarily because i am working wonders in the world by having foreign english speakers adopt the term YALL. is wonderful.
so, brilliant fortuna has granted a little coincidence in my life. when i arrived back at the hostel the other day i was wandering down the hallway toward my room and out of another room walks this beautiful red head girl. i recognize her instantly as a girl who both went to high school with me, and UGA. her name is erika pinner and shes the younger sister of a boy from my class. shes also friends with grantboy and his roommates. i have known of her for years because she is strikingly beautiful and glamorous and always very fashionable, but weve never really talked. so we recognize each other and theres not much to say except "well i'll be a monkeys uncle" or something because of course shes here, i was expecting to see another marietta kid any minute really.
i want to recount all the things that occured last week in veneto, but im not sure where to start. i know...will go buy a new notebook because my other one is full, will go find a nice place to sit in the sunshine, and i will write write write...
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
where in the world...
i'm freaking obsessed with this song. it has become my anthem. ive made a fool of myself several times at the hostel where i "reside" in rome, because they have great satelite TV with music chanels and when this video comes on (once an hour at least, thank the lord!) i let out a squeal and come running from wherever it is i was nibbling my finger nails or preaching the brilliance of contemporary american literature and force the poor unsespecting bolivian/swedish/korean kid who innocently made the mistake of choosing the MTV hiphop chanel to turn it up full blast, so that i can spin around with my arms wide, rapping along with my boyfriend T.I. yes, thats right. T.I. and i are an item. best relationship ive ever had. bottle-popping, jet setting, fried chicken.
i miss america.
god, ok. so where have i been, right? lets start with the present. currently i am in my hostel in rome, a place i have come to love like a home in this trecherous city of mine. i found this place the day laura caramadre dropped me at the metro station. i had never stayed in the "vatican area" before, but the reviews of this place on hostels.com looked promising, so i booked, and i reckon the rest is history. i have left this hostel 5 different times, all with genuine farewells, sometimes with tears, sometimes with laughter, sometimes with dread. i have returned just as many times, and at this point its come to be something of a joke to the staff. i bid them adieu, and their response is, see you later this afternoon.
i arrived at 8 am this morning after a positively HORRIBLE overnight train ride in from venice. i was not aware until 5 hours into the ride that there was a train car with heat, so i spent the journey shivering and holding my knees to my chest trying to talk myself out of just freezing to death to end the suffering. finally made it in to the hostel, was greeting by dear richard who works the day shift, was shown to my room, and i commenced to sleep off the trauma of the previous night.
theres no way to recount these past 5 weeks in rome, too much has happened, too much has changed, too much has become of me. ive become a catholic, or im pretty close. i go to mass and pray and was given a prayer blessed by the pope which i keep on my person at all times. ive taken to drinking cappucinnos twice a day and smoking cigarettes. ive learned roman slang and romano curse words. ive made a friend who drives me through the city on his motorino, showing me the small, delicate side of rome, places ive never known, secret key holes and amazing views, views allowing rome to look small and manageable. what a farce. ive taught people how to make sushi and learned phillipino and dutch dishes from people i never knew existed. i ate mouth-numbing ethiopian food and ran through the streets holding hands with a friend aftwerward, swearing to each other our eternal bond. i walked through the rain with a boy from north carolina, a boy i knew was from north carolina before he even told me so, simply because he wore basketball shorts and walked in that way, that way southern boys walk when they attend UNC chapel hill and their parents own lake houses and they are perpetually in motion, loping strides and insatiable appetites. i spent too much money on a dress in an effort to make someone jealous and someone else happy and it worked damnit. i looked great. i have been given gifts and salutations from strangers, fruit and books and flowers and tiny trinkets, and with each gesture i become more gracious, more floored, more in love. i have been kissed at 3 am in front of the trevi fountain, the only two people there, me and him, moonlight and rushing water and i noticed for the first time that the fountain says "magnifico". ive known peace and ive lost my mind and i have been positively devouring books. and this is just rome. and this is just so far.
how was the farm, you ask? the actual work? the actual thing that i did and was suppose to do? oh my god, it was incredible. give me a minute to collect my thoughts...
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