Final comments

So BU is already kicking my butt. Being a last-semester student isn't easy, that's for sure. Between getting photo stuff done for COM, preparing an hour-long presentation for Media Law, and keeping up with the interesting although not easy readings for LI 459: Primo Levi within Holocaust Lit, I've already felt as though I've gone under a few times.

Now that I'm back into the swing of university, I don't have as much time to dwell on Padova, although I do still miss it everyday. Maybe I think about it right before I go to sleep, or when a song, a food or a person reminds me of it. Being back in Boston, away from my friends from abroad and away from the city I am in love with, has been hard, to be honest.

I'm about to turn this blog and 12 prints over to BU's Office of International Studies to complete my scholarship program. The 12 photos I chose are woven throughout my posts, but for a quick rundown of what and why I chose them:

1. The clock. This was one of the first things I learned about upon arrival to Padova, and was one of the first of many historical/narrative explanations Annette and I got from our host dad, Agostino.

2. The lion. A symbol of Saint Mark, and thus, of Venice, this shows that Padova used to be, and still is, within the sphere of influence of the tiny, yet hugely powerful, city of canals.

3. The nuns. A striking image recorded during my first days in Padova. I still love imagining the azure-clad nuns posing for their pictures, because it makes me laugh a little, and because it brings me back to that warm, sunny September day when we all stood around watching them.

4. The window. The shutters on Italian windows came across as a big difference from American life. I don't know why the difference seemed so grand to me, but it feels like each culture chooses their respective window treatments based on their approach to life.

5. The dog. This little guy, or girl, was being really good while his/her owner, holding a Rinascente bag, looked for more stuff to buy at the daily market. Dogs and shopping: two of Padova's greatest loves.

6. The graffiti. I noticed graffiti everywhere in Padova, always hidden behind a palacial building or an old ruin. The murals decorate the empty space left over on plain walls of buildings with little importance to history. Gandhi was one of my favorites because it was well-done and clearly sent a message that we need in the current world.

7. The portico. These structures make a big impact in Padova and other cities known for them, like Bologna. Shelter from the sun, shelter from the rain, and a unique architectural mood are just a few things the portici offer.

8. The market. I was looking for something to represent the market, and these hand-made artisan ceramic hot air balloons perfectly represented how I felt in Padova: as though I was living among the clouds.

Night Series:

9. The clocktower. A symbol of the city, a symbol of Italian culture, a symbol of sciences past, this clocktower is a monument and is even more beautiful by night. Its beauty by night is also a symbol of the majesty of Italy.

10. The apartment. My home away from home, where my second family taught me all about Italian culture. Also pictured is Via N Sauro, my street, which greeted me each morning with vivacity as I joyfully made my way to school.

11. The market. By day the piazzas are full of tents, full of stuff, that attract hordes of people. By night, they are ghostly squares, illuminated by what seems to be internal lights, that haunt the piazzas below the majestic Palazzo della Ragione, another symbol of Padovan culture. The garbage shows the day's work.

12. The self-portrait. I wanted to photograph myself in Italy, to show my life, but I didn't want to do it alone, as most of my experience was possible because of the amazing friends I made. So I asked them to sit on the cobblestones with me, under the Christmas lights, just like when we used to sit on the stairs, or on the statues, or on the ground of the piazze, back in the days when we were just getting to know each other during the warm September nights. They were my foundation, and I believe friends and family are the foundation of everyone's experiences in Italy, so I had to include them in my study of Padovan life.

With that, I think it's time to conclude this blog. Maybe I'll update occassionally if I get news from Padova or something similar, but other than that, I think my work here is done.

Thanks to anyone who has read this blog, and I hope it has helped students currently studying abroad or thinking about studying abroad. Best of luck to anyone who does it. If your experience is anything like mine, you'll remember it forever.

Conclusions

With everything going on during my last few days in Italy-- finals, running around buying last minute Christmas gifts, going to Venice durante l'acqua alta (Saint Mark's at left), hanging with the host family, last parties with beloved friends, packing everything into two bags, and emotionally preparing myself for leaving what has been the best time of my life-- and with Christmas and whatnot, I haven't had much time to conclude this blog.

The last few days were really a blur of emotion. Saying goodbye to people-- first our teachers at the party (lower right) they threw for us, then some of our friends who left on other flights, then our host families and friends who were staying behind, and finally the friends we rode with to JFK-- was ridiculously draining. I cried several times, and was a bit shocked at myself, because I'm generally not a crier (at least not in front of others). Saying "ciao" for the last time (at least in a while; I like to think I'm going back to Padova) to people like Maria Pia, Luisa and Agostino, Francesco, and Sona, Alex and Alex (who are staying in Italy next semester), was heart-wrenching just because I know I won't be able to easily see them.

As the bus drove away and we all looked back at the group on the sidewalk, and a bunch of us were crying, Giacomo (below left) did something that instantly put a spark of life and laughter into everyone's hearts: he pulled out his violin and started playing.

At the airport was a little crazy for people who had over-packed (I miraculously didn't have to pay for overweight baggage!), the ride to Paris was easy, and DeGaulle was pretty much a pain as usual. The French security guards are definitely the least friendly in Europe, and the sheer size of the airport makes transfers a rush. Our flight to JFK was delayed, so I ended up sitting on the ground playing briscola (Italian card game) with Nicole and the two Andreas (I definitely brought Nicole down).

The flight over the Atlantic went smoothly. I was too drained, and too tired, to focus on leaving. I still felt like I was just going on another weekend trip with all my friends. I saw with Liz and Nicole, watched Wall-E and Brideshead Revisited, slept, ate, etc etc.

JFK: customs was fine. I don't think anyone had a problem. When we came out all our parents were waiting for us, mine included. Everyone who lived close enough to New York had parents embracing them and asking about their life for the last 4 months, but we of course all found time to say goodbye to everyone. I thought I was going to cry for sure, but was just too tired to do so. One thing that was really funny: Annette and I were trying to say goodbye to Michael and he kept going around to everyone else first, and Annette pointed out that he probably wanted to say goodbye to us last. :) My parents actually ended up driving him to his hotel so he didn't have to take the airtran shuttle thing, and my mom still raves about how much she liked him.

I was lucky that saying goodbye to Annette wasn't REALLY goodbye, as we were going to hang out in the city a few days later. Saying goodbye to Michael was really hard, and after leaving Sona in Italy, I don't know if I'd have been able to handle a third heartbreak.

I got back home pretty late, around 2 am probably, and was really excited to see Foxy and my sister. We all stayed up for a little bit and I think everyone went to sleep around 3-4. I woke up at 6 because I couldn't sleep, but fell asleep again at 10 for a little bit.

Readjusting to American life was much harder than adjusting to Italy. I felt more jetlagged, and I actually felt resentful for a week or so. I got angry if my parents asked about Italy when I was in a particularly sad mood, I didn't want to eat American food, and I resented aspects of American culture that I didn't have to deal with in Italy.

Luckily, Christmas was coming and provided a distraction. I didn't have time to mope around and contemplate my new sad existence; I had to wrap the gifts I bought people, I had to bake cookies, I had to decorate the tree. Those things were a lifesaver.

Looking back on the last four months, I can't possibly describe it in words. My biggest fear came true: I wouldn't be able to accurately recount the experience to people who haven't experienced it. While I can tell my parents and friends about what life was like, they can't understand because they haven't lived it, and no one can understand what it meant to me. Luckily, it's relatively easy to keep in touch with my abroad friends via Facebook, e-mail, text, whatever, so I won't ever be completely alone when I need to think back about Padova. For anyone abroad, just remember how important it is to stay in touch with the people you grow to love, because while your friends and family from home will want to hear about your experiences and will maybe try to relate, they'll never fully grasp what you lived.

Italy was the most amazing time of my life, as I've said many times already. I owe so much of the experience to BU for creating such a fantastic program in every aspect. The staff that runs the CIES is stellar (Maria Pia is probably my favorite person ever), the host families they choose are loving, helpful, kind-hearted, lively families that made us feel at home, and the excursions and information they provided us made our knowledge and understanding of Italian culture much more complete.

I know things would have been different had I stayed for more than a semester, and I'm sure it would have been more difficult had I remained behind while all my friends left. I talked about these things with Annette during our last night in Padova. We were coming back from St. John's Pub, where everyone had engaged in last-night karaoke partying, and we decided to stand on the Signori steps for one last night. We talked about how much Padova meant to us and how we knew, logically, it had to end the next day. However, the fact that it's over still rips at my heart, and I miss it every day.

I do miss Italy every day, especially now that the holidays have ended and I have to go back to Boston soon. It lives with me in my heart, in my pictures, in my comments with friends on Facebook walls or in text messages, but it is still painful that it's over.

I learned something very important, and very cliched, from my life in Padova. Regardless of how many people say it, the old "Live each day to the fullest" mantra is ridiculously true. Italy taught me to enjoy every day for something, even if it's something small, because every day is a gift, and life should be enjoyed. Americans focus too much on the future-- on work, on planning, on what they have to do tomorrow-- that they forget to enjoy the present.

Moreover, your life can change at any minute, in a drastic way that will rearrange your priorities, your environment, your social circle, everything. Whether you see it coming (like we did), or not, it will happen. So you should enjoy the most of every experience while you have it. Love the people you love, enjoy yourself, have fun, and laugh, because in the end, these are the only things that will matter.

Studying abroad changed my life. I wouldn't change one minute detail about my experience, and I hope anyone reading this blog feels, or will feel (after studying abroad!) the same way. My advice for any students who are on the fence about going abroad: do it. Never again will you have the option to explore another life with the help and guidance of people who understand what you're going through. Go out into the world, into the unknown, and live. You might not know anyone when you get there, you might not know the city-- you'll have to find out where the grocery store is, where the mailbox is, and the best route to get to school/work-- and you might not know the culture, but you'll get to know, and get to love, all of them. And that's the best part.

L'autoritratto

For one of my last pictures, I wanted to do a self portrait (that's me in the pink coat). However, I didn't want to do a solo self portrait, as much of my life here would not have been possible, or would have been much worse, without the friends I made, the family I made, at BU. I rarely led a solitary life in Italy; the culture's importance on friends and family definitely affected my life. Without my host family, my teachers, and most importantly, my friends, I don't know what I would have done.

Sitting on the cobblestones, under the Christmas lights, while the camera shot a long exposure, I wished I could freeze my life in time just as I knew the camera would freeze our moment.

I do not want to leave Italy at all! This has been the best time of my life, and it's ending in a few days. I feel like a part of me is dying in a way, no matter how dramatic that sounds. I know this experience would have been different had it lasted for more than a semester, and I know it will always live in my memory, but I can't help but feel immensely sad at the thought of it ending.

La notte di Padova

It's Christmas time and the whole city is decorated. In fact, it seems like all of Europe is decorated. From Paris to Prague to Padova, lights illuminate the dark winter nights. Padova looks ever more gorgeous with the addition of its lights, and their addition makes the night so alluring I just had to take my tripod out and do some night photography.

The first photo is the clocktower in Signori that I photographed before. The majesty of Italy and the beauty and culture of Padova are all displayed right here.

The second is my house. In fact, the window right above the street lamp and that to the right of it are my two windows. This building means so much to me, and just looking at the photograph makes me think of the wonderful people I've grown to love and the wonderful experiences I've lived inside it. Looking down Via N. Sauro, with little lights stretched over it like a brilliant canopy, I fear the time when I will not be able to walk down its curving cobblestones to what lies beyond.

The third is a market, abandoned during the night. Although a pile of garbage sits outside the simple white tent, the way the light comes through is quite beautiful and rivals the bulbs on the Palazzo della Ragione, its much more elegant neighbor. The Piazza is no longer an empty space, but a camp of ghostly tents that remind us of the liveliness they enjoy during the day.

While it is exciting to see Italy transformed for Christmas, it's bittersweet also, because with Christmas, comes my return to the US, a day I know I will be sad to greet.

Al mercato

As I was saying in my last post, nothing better epitomizes Italy than market culture. Padova is transformed almost daily into a bustling center of commerce. Its piazzas, usually full of tiny cafe tables for customers leisurely snacking, transform into colorful, crowded, somewhat chaotic centers of trade. Whether you want fruit, veggies, meat, cheese, flowers, a new jacket, a cheap dress, handbags, scarves, or even underwear, it's on some table in the Padovan market.

This photo shows three little hot air balloons, made of ceramic, featured at a stall where an artist was displaying handmade crafts during the Christmas season. The way they were hanging was what drew me to them, and I thought they were the perfect symbol to choose to represent what Padova means to me.

My experience in Padova has really taken me high into the clouds. I've been taken higher in terms of my intellectual experience, my social experience, my emotional experience, my life experience. This experience, ending in less than a month, has been the experience of a lifetime, and I dread thinking about the day when I will be forced to call it only a memory instead of life.

Il cane: il migliore amico del padovano

Dogs own Padova. In the streets, in my apartment building, under the tables in cafes, walking loosely in shops, they're everywhere, and more importantly, they are accepted everywhere.

What else in Padova can compete with the presence of its beloved canines? Shopping, anyone?

Shopping, whether in Via Santa Lucia's international stores, or in Via Roma's small boutiques, or in the magnificent La Rinascente department store. A staple of Italian culture, Rinascente, and shopping in general, is more than a way to fulfill a consumerism drive in people with too much money. Shopping, whether in the store or outside its windows, is a social activity for Italians. Even when they're not spending, but just peering through glass to see the latest and greatest work by Valentino or Versace, Italians are usually found with a friend or spouse, commenting on what shoes they like, what color jacket they'd choose, and so on.

So when I saw this beautiful German Shepherd (or Alsatian) sitting so demurely while its owner, carrying a Rinascente bag, looks through market stalls (probably THE most beloved shopping forum, at least in Padova), I knew it was the perfect combination for una foto.

Adventures in Eastern Europe

Prague: Where time doesn't pass.

Sona and I did Prague solo. A bunch of the other girls were doing Vienna, but both of us really wanted to get to the Czech Republic so we figured we'd just do it on our own.

We got there Friday afternoon, checked into our hostel, wandered around the Staromestka Namesti (Old Town Square) Christmas market, and basically walked around Prague for hours. That first night, time would not pass, and we found ourself doing almost a complete tour of Prague's old city, with time to spare for a market dinner and shop-browsing. We even killed an hour or so warming up to some coffee in none other than...Starbucks.

The next day we did an American style breakfast (potatoes, bagels, you name it!) at Bohemian Bagel, which was literally around the corner from our hostel, and saw the Astronomical Clock, the Mucha Museum (very exciting for me, Mucha has been a favorite artist since high school), more Christmas markets, Jewish ghetto, some shopping on St. Wenceslas Street, and more random wandering. We tried to do a free walking tour of Prague, but after the legacy instilled in our minds by Cal in Berlin, the Prague tour just didn't compare, so we just hopped off and did our own thing. Later, we had dinner at a Thai restuarant (again, 2 min walk from hostel) and saw a Czech rock band cover English hits in an underground jazz club (30 second walk?).

The next day, we took on Prague Castle, the largest castle complex in the world. An outstanding experience was seeing the stained glass windows in Saint Vitus' cathedral (one by Mucha). Later that night we ate dinner at Red Hot N' Blues, a New Orleans-style restaurant serving Cajun and Mexican food. We had been craving Mexican food for so long and hadn't been able to find it in Italy, so that was a much-awaited treat. In addition, an excellet musical duo was playing. Jonathan Goudet, a guitarist and singer, and a Czech harmonica player whose name I did not get, played blues and jazz while we ate, making the atmosphere completely perfect.

Prague, a city that seems to be ripped from a fairy tale, is enchanting and charming, its people warm and kind, and its history deep. I'm so glad I chose to go there instead of Vienna; nothing against Vienna, but Prague has been on the top of my travel list for awhile. Having a friend like Sona, who is content wandering and finding new, not necessarily talked-about things to see, with me was what made the whole trip complete.

Hostel: Hostel Tyn.
Excellent, fabulous location; located behind the noticeable Cathedral Tyn, it's literally 1 minute from the main square in Prague's Old Town. The staff was helpful and friendly (the guy even let us leave a deposit in Euros instead of Crowns so we wouldn't be stuck with 200 crowns at the end of our trip). You can get private rooms but have to share a bathroom, though it's okay because you see people cleaning them each morning.

The rooms reminded me of what I think a summer camp room would look like, and I made it a point to make camp jokes throughout the weekend (mostly about my 4th grade boyfriend Billy, who never existed and was instead restrospectively imagine by my 21-year-old self). Unfortunately, the beds felt like what I expect camp beds to feel like: wooden planks. I woke up with a sore back the first morning we were there and after a nap, and on the second and third nights had to sleep with half of the very large pillow under by back. If you can deal with the planks, it was a good value, and the location can't be beat.

Paris: une cité en fait très belle

Paris: que magnifique.

I thought Paris was going to end up being really overrated. We see it in movies, we hear about it in romances, we see the Eiffel Tower replicated in Las Vegas and Tokyo. The city couldn't possibly live up to what its depictions in all forms of media have laid out.

I was wrong. A beautiful, charming, magnicifent city was waiting for me when I made my way from Charles de Gualle to my hotel in La Marais. Annette and I were traveling alone, and we got into Paris around 3 p.m. on Thursday, Thanksgiving Day. Our hotel was in Marais, an up-and-coming hip area with equal parts ridiculously small grocery stores and trendy boutiques, and was a decent bargain for what we paid. We had a queen bed, our own bathroom, towels, a chair and table, and a window with a tiny tiny balcony looking onto a very French-looking street.
We spent Thanksgiving eating soup in Les Soupes (GO THERE), a place run by a flamboyantly awesome guy who served us some pumpkin, cheese and broccoli, and lentil and coconut soup, with great bread and free water (the latter being not always available in European restaurants). After eating, we made our way to see Paris from new heights, that is, from the top of the Tour Eiffel. I conquered my fear of heights and was able to glance the majesty of this beautiful city from the top of its most famous symbol.

The next few days were a blaze of beautiful art, delicious food, lovely scenery, Christmas lights, steps steps and steps, and, one of my favorite things about Paris-- beautiful men. Annette and I did so many things in just a few days that we were both saying how proud of ourselves we were after we got back to Padova. If anyone is considering going to Paris for seeing all the major sights, please, please please get the Paris pass! It covers just about everything you could want to see except the Eiffel Tower. For a quick idea of how much we did: Day 1-- Saint Chappelle, Notre Dame, including towers, the Louvre (greatest hits tour), Champs-Elysees and Arc de Triomph, dinner in a small, authentic French restaurant. Day 2-- Pere Lachaise Cemetery (do not go without a map and a lot of patience), Montmarte, Sacre Couer, the Rodin Museum, the Musee d'Orsay, Orangerie, dinner on the Champs Elysees, and a half-night of sleep before catching a plane out of De Gualle at 8 a.m. the next morning.

It's no surprising, after having visited Paris, to see why it played foster home to so many ex-patriots, especially artists and writers. You can feel the inspiration around you when you visit the French capital, whether found in the Louvre's endless galleries, the way all the buildings are illuminated at night, or the way the French enjoy relaxing with their bread, their wine, and their friends.

Graffiti: il nuovo modo di decorazione urbana

I have seen this graffiti mural several times while walking through Piazza del Capitiano, but never stopped to photograph it. I finally did, because graffiti is a big part of what makes Padova Padova. Among ancient buildings, ornate pieces of art and fabulous clothes, shoes and handbags in store windows, graffiti lends life to the plain walls that just can't compete.

This Gandhi mural particularly struck me because of its subject matter. The smiling face of the well-known pacifist seemed unexpected to me when I first saw it. Why was Gandhi in Italy? But if America could have Gandhi integrated into its popular culture, why couldn't Italy? Seeing his smile was just another reminder of the fact that we are all connected-- Italy, India, the U.S.-- and the fact that a message concerning peace is, or should be, a universal desire.

Finestre di un diverso mondo

I found this window a while ago, down by the Santo, and something about it just spoke to me about Italy. The color of the building, the color of the shutters, the plants and the bird just all embodied what Italian life looks like in the mind's eye: quaint, colorful, warm and full of life.

I have shutters like these on my windows in my bedroom. They were one of the first things that made me feel as though I was finally and truly in Italy, and each time I spread them open to let in sunlight, cool air, and the sounds of Piazza dei Signori, something feels magical. These shutters, made from what was once something organic, have such a different feel from the type of windows I have at home: plastic and glass sterile things that move up and down with barely a sound. These shutters creak when they move, and their metal latches clank down when I lock them. They make noise, they have color, and they don't have screens attached. When they're open, they let everything in. This is not too far from the way I've felt about the Italians I've grown to know.

Taking on the Emerald Isle

Dublin: One whirlwind of a weekend. Scratch that. One whirwind of less than two days.

We weren't even in ireland for 48 hours. I don't even know how that happened, as I ended up jumping on board after the trip was planned. Anyway, we six arrived in Dublin on Friday afternoon, walked around a bit to see the quays (pronounced "key," I think, in Ireland), took a nap in our hostel, ate some last minute kebab in Temple Bar, and then ended up in this sorta tacky touristy place that advertised "5 BARS, 2 DANCEFLOORS, 1 PARTY." Something ridiculous like that...

After evading persistent Finns and 40 year old Indian men, we went back to our hostel, located at Merchant's Quay on the River Liffey, to get some shuteye. The next day we figured our best bet of getting to know Dublin in such a short amount of time was doing a bus tour. We got to see all the sights and basically figure out where we wanted to spend more time. In the end, about five places made the final cut. We grabbed some Irish coffee at a traditional-style pub-restaurant on O'Connell Street, headed off to the Dublin Wrtiers' Museum, visited Trinity College, tried to get into St. Stephen's Green but found closed gates, marveled at the Grafton Street Christmas Lights, and ended up watching Quantum of Solace back on O'Connell Street for a needed break. Had dinner in Temple Bar and hung out at a pub until about 2 a.m. Grabbed our stored bags at the hostel and got a cab to the airport, where we slept folded across tables until our 6 a.m. flight.

Not the most ideal of weekends, but a fun one nonetheless. I would have loved to spend more time in Ireland and to have had the chance to leave the city, but what could I do when we only have weekends to travel. :/ Dublin was a fun, lively, young place, but unexpectedly expensive.

Hostel: Four Courts
Good place. Rooms are pretty average for hostels, but can get your own bathroom and the location is great for young people (close to Temple Bar and other cool stuff). The people were really cool and helpful and breakfast was included (buffet style, and wash-your-own-plates-style). Not to expensive and overall, a good value. I think the building is an old house, so you get a traditional feel to the building.

Una foto della foto delle suore...

So I forgot to put this up way back when I took it in still-hot September, when I was new to Padova and Padova was new to me. On our first day of orientation, we made our way toward Il Santo, or La Basilica di Sant'Antonio, or, the Basilica of Saint Anthony, to see the landmark cathedral and start our tour of this wonderful city.

One of the first things I remember noticing was this mass of nuns that were dressed in a most vibrant of blues. First off, I've never seen nuns wear habits like this in the States. Second, they were posing together for a photo. This act seemed strange to me, because where I come from, nuns come in one of two types: the austere mother superior type who chastised our parents with wooden rulers, or the friendly, skirt-wearing Catholic school teachers who were kind but still "tough." Taking a photo together, like a group of teenage girls posing at the prom for a photo they will put on their MySpaces, just didn't seem like something that nuns do.

Having lived in Italy for a few months now, I think the difference has begun to reveal itself to me. Religion in Italy isn't the same as religion in the States. It's not as austere, or as solemn, at least not in the same ways. Religion, at least Catholicism, seems more easily blended into Italian life; it is something Italians grow up exposed to as a part of daily life. Beautiful basilicas and relics of long-gone saints populate cities like Padova and remind the citizens of their presence because of their all-important role as community figureheads. What is Padova without il Santo? It would be hard to tell. Anyway, because religion is so integrated into daily life, it's not strange for nuns to take a photo. They're nuns, but they are plain old Italians too. They do grocery shopping, they put their bags in the baskets of their bikes to ride home (I've seen this first-hand), and they take photographs together.

Milano!

Verona, che bella! Sona and I teamed up with Desi, a friend of Roxana. Roxana, who would meet us in Milan, had to get to the city earlier to work out some Visa business, but Desi really wanted to see Verona, so we told her she could come with us.

We toured the churches and the piazzas and even saw (the outside of) Juliet's house, even though we whined about how fake it was. Verona is an absolutely beautiful, charming city. It seemed rather upscale, with fancy boutiques and restaurants, but there were some nice cheap markets in the main piazza.

After one day in Verona we got on a train to continue onward to Milan. We got in much later than we expected, ate some pizza Roxana had picked up for us, and slept. The next day, Sona and I did a lot of work making sure we got to see as much as possible. Highlights for me were the Duomo (one of my favorite churches in Europe), the Galleria, and just walking around looking at unique shops in the fashion district.

Saturday night was the real reason we went in the first place: we saw Fleet Foxes, an American band, at an Italian venue. The band was awesome and we felt-- pardon the really silly cliche-- proud to be Americans while we saw Americans on stage and while we knew Obama had just won a few weeks earlier. Anyway, afterward, we ended up hanging out with some Italian guys at what turned out to be a gay man's paradise of a club, complete with dancers and Madonna music. It was some of the best fun I've had in Europe.

Sunday was a scary and exhilirating day. We were on our way to San Siro to see AC Milan play when Sona's wallet was stolen out of her bag on the metro. Two kids grabbed it, and turns out they only snatched the cash and left the credit cards. We were on a train going away from the station where she was robbed, so we had to turn around and go back, and luckily found it at the transit police office. I had to try to speak to the police, who spoke no English, about the process for returning the wallet, which involved Sona signing paperwork. Since only the cash had been stolen and because she just wanted to get out of there, she signed, and we continued on to San Siro. So be warned: don't leave bags unzipped and watch where you put yourself and your stuff when getting on subways. Also, watch out for people who try to stop the doors from closing, as this is what the kids did to create confusion and an opportunity to snatch the wallet.

I think it ended up costing 27 euro for both of us, and although we were supposed to be high up in the center of the field, and old guy working the stadium showed us to two seats in the lower level behind one of the goals. Sometimes I love how lackadaisical Italians are about things like that, because we got super good seats for really, really cheap.

AC won, and we got to see Ronaldinho kick corners right in front of us. Saw Kaka and a few of my other favorite players, so it was a trip well worth it.

Sotto i portici

Portici, or porticos, or arcades, or coverings, or "portals" as my friend Sona called them, or whatever you'd like to call them, are a big part of Padova. Just as in neighboring Bologna, the portici line most of the main streets throughout the city. They gave me shade from the hot September sun and now they're giving me shelter from the early winter rain.

The portici also lend a special aesthetic element to the city. They seem to defy the normal rules of architecture by giving buildings an open feeling on the bottom and a closed-off feeling higher up.

Sometimes, like seen at right, they are like little tunnels, leading people from one place to another. I can't explain it in words, but the portici add an ancient, almost otherwordly aspect to the city. Sometimes it feels as though walking through them will transport me to another time period or another world. When Sona misheard me during a walk in the rain and accidentally called the portici "portals," maybe she wasn't that far off. Maybe they are portals in a sense, at least for the imagination.

Next up: Verona, then onto Milan!

Berlin

In other news: BERLIN! was AMAZING!

This city is a must for all young people visiting Europe. Hip, with it, forward-thinking, fun, energetic...I can't think of enough adjectives to describe it. It felt the most like New York to me out of any European city I've visited, and certain things about it are just absolutely amazing.

Public transportation is great. The airport is easily accessible by train and tram, and the metro, while costly, stays open around the clock. Add trams and buses to that and you'll never really be stranded. The city is clean and orderly, and pedestrians are so composed they don't even think about jaywalking. I now know from first-hand experience that jaywalking in Germany will get you some stares.

Berlin has so much history, and a lot of it is really sad, destructive history, but it's also a total Renaissance city. Everything-- from the government to night clubs-- seems to be aimed at the future. The parliament is glass to provide a literal transparency to the relatively new democracy, and artists and masters of various cultures rule the nights.

The fact that so much of the city's history was dominated by the desires of the Americans and Russians is fascinating. Heads up, I learned a ton by taking a Free Walking Tour of Berlin with a North Irish ex-pat named Cal. He dresses like a dandy and has a ponytail. If you're in Berlin on a Saturday, look for him near Brandenburg Gate at around 1. He took us on a four hour trek through Berlin and I could never have covered so much ground or learned so much without his help. The best part about it was he was animated, excited and had excellent story-telling methods, so he kept me interested the whole time.

Berlin was amazing. Please please go! And read below to hear about the best hostel in Europe.

Hostel: City Hostel Berlin.
This place was basically a palace. We had a four-person room that was huge, with two sets of bunk beds, each of which came with its own huge fluffy pillow and warm fluffy blanket. We had our own private bathroom, a large window overlooking the street, a table and chairs. Having a table and chairs in your hostel room is a big deal, let me point out.

The other best part? The hostel was located literally right across the street from a metro stop. And with the 24-hour metro at a few steps away, you're able to do whatever you want whenever you want wherever you want in Berlin and not have to worry about getting home. Another plus was that the staff was really helpful and nice and pointed us in the right direction for great Asian restaurants, great German food, and of course, hot spots for nightlife.

Il potere di San Marco

Saint Mark obviously has a big hold on Venice, as he is the city's patron saint. They love him so much they constructed a magnificent basilica and named their principal piazza after him.

Apparently, according to what we learned in art history, the Venetian powers-at-be actually sent two guys to "kidnap" the body of Saint Mark because the city had no patron. They succeeded, brought his body back, and I guess everything went from there.


We also learned about the lion of Saint Mark. Each of the four great Evangelists have their own symbol (let's see if I can do it...Mark-lion, Luke-eagle, Matthew-angel, John-a ram or a sheep or something similar?), and Mark's is the lion. Prof. Fantelli told us there are two ways to depict the lion, and each has a different meaning. A standing lion signifies war, while a sitting or prone lion means peace.

Now, because Venice had power over its region for a significant period of time, it shouldn't be surprising that there are direct traces of Venetian culture found in Padova. And likewise, with Venice came Saint Mark, and with him, his lion. In Piazza dei Signori I noticed the lion statue seen at left. He's standing, so he's a lion of war, but he was a book, which I presume means knowledge. Fighting for knowledge? Blending of cultures (Venice plus the renowned Uni. degli Studi di Padova)? Now I don't know what the pigeon sitting on his head represents, but who really ever understands why pigeons do what they do.

I should ask Agostino who built the lion, what it means, if there are any hidden details. Regardless of its history, I thought it was a good example of how regional ties in Italy are so strong, and of the power and scope of Venice over the surrounding area.

Firenze, e vittoria!

Firenze era veramente bella! What a charming city that is packed full of amazing culture. The artistic legacy of the Medici family is unrivaled (except maybe by that of the Popes), and I was able to see all the highlights. My favorite was the Botticelli room, and I especially adored the Madonna of the Pomegranate.

Uncle Tony and I had to take a first class EuroStar as the earlier train AND the regular class seats in the later one were sold out. We got to Florence and were happy to see bright and cheery weather, which was the total opposite to the rain and gloom back in the Veneto.

We walked into the city, saw the Duomo and visited David, and then we headed over to the Uffizzi to make a reservation for later in the afternoon. We had some lunch, walked around the backstreets a bit and then did the Uffizzi for a few hours. Crossed the Ponte Vecchio at night, checked out Santa Croce, had some dinner and headed home. A super-packed and very rewarding daytrip.

The day before that, most of us went to Trento on a class trip organized by Prof. Fantelli that originally started for Kaitlyn, Sona and me (art history seminar represent!) and eventually grew to include anyone who wanted to go. We had a private bus, which was awesome, but the weather was really bad. I was happy it was raining though, because the drive through the mountains, masked by opaque puffs of mist, was a truly unique and beautiful sight.

Inoltre, vittoria! Obama! I couldn't make it all night for the results, so I just woke up at 8 or so and checked the New York Times online. I rejoiced and then after about 15 minutes, went back to sleep. Everyone was really excited that day in school and Maria Pia hung up a picture of Obama that she had printed from the Internet. All the teachers were happy, as were I think all the students. It was an amazing moment, and while I wish I could have seen it happen in America, experiencing it from an international perspective was a priceless experience.

On the horizon...

Some exciting things coming up:

1. Election Day draws nearer and nearer, and I cannot wait to see who wins. I've been a big Obama supporter since before he even announced his bid for presidency (thanks in part to seeing him speak at Agannis and BU), and Europeans seem to agree with me.

2. Uncle Tony is coming to visit in a few days. We're going to go to Florence this weekend for a day. I'm sort of dreading the weight of feeling like I have to see everything in Florence in a day, but it will definitely be fun.

3. BERLIN! Next weekend with five other kids from the program. I've heard so much about the city from Europeans, and I'm super hyped to see if all the good things are true.

L'orologio

One of the first things I learned about in Padova was the clock in Piazza dei Signori.

On my first day in Padova, after an exhausting flight, a much-needed shower and a quick nap, my host mother, Luisa, took my housemate, Annette, and I for a stroll through Padova. She showed us around the three major piazzas (Signori, Erbe, Frutta), walked us down Via Roma and showed us a stone bust of her grandfather, a former mathematics professor, inside the gates of the Uni. di Padova.

One of the things to which she directed our attention was the clock tower above the passage from Piazza dei Signori to the tree-lined Piazza dei Capitiani. A pretty clock made of blue-painted stone adorned with golden figures of the zodiac, I thought it just another beautiful piece of the country I'd be living in for the next four months.

Later, at dinner, my host father, Agostino, asked us what we saw on our short tour. He specifically asked us about the clock, a question to which we nodded in affirmation. What came next would be a constant part of our education in Italy and a favorite part of our experience in Padova: Agostino's history lessons over dinner. He took us back a few centures to the days when the clock was made. The same clock face stands in Piazza di San Marco in Venice, but the Padovan clock, he said, was made first. In addition, he asked us if we noticed that "bilancio" (Libra) was left off the clock face in Padova. We hadn't noticed, but he went on with his story: The artist who designed the clock was not paid for his work, and so, he left off Libra, a symbol of justice.

We smiled and nodded in comprehension, as that was about all we could do through our exhaustion on the first night. Then he smiles and tells us, "Ma non e' vero." ("But it's not true.")

Annette and I still receive history lessons and talk about all sorts of topics with our family, ranging from the Roman streets under Padova to Madonna. And we love it.

Homesickness...?

I've realized that I've felt homesick for the United States for about a total of 10 seconds since I came to Europe. I remember exactly where I was, how I was feeling and what I was thinking about. The entire group was in Ferrara, a nearby city, for a field trip. We were sitting in a restaurant waiting to eat lunch, I was exhausted. For a split second, I had the desire to be in my bed in New Jersey. After mentally putting myself back in the States, I realized I didn't want to go back at all.

Now that we're getting more toward the end of our program, I realize just how much I don't want to return to the United States. Of course I miss my family and friends and of course I have to return to my previous life at some point, but I do seriously wish my time in Italy could be extended. A few of my friends are staying the year, and if I weren't a senior, I would seriously consider doing the same. This has been the most amazing time of my life, and I know I will be heartbroken to leave.