Monday, August 31, 2009

Call me Martha

I had a brief experience with house arrest last night, so that's one thing I guess I can check off my life's to-do list.

I'm going to keep this blog post really brief because I am sleep deprived out of my MIND. But tomorrow, I promise to recount everything that has happened this eventful week. It is 12:22 AM and I don't think I've received more than 5 hours of sleep on any of the past nights. And I have to wake up at 7 tomorrow. FML. Although considering the fact that my two biggest problems in life right now are that 1) I've been having too good a time (save yesterday) calling late nights and 2) a zit has left a mark in between my eyebrows so I feel like I have a tattooed bindi on, I guess I can't complain too much.

So before I go to bed, I leave you with this story. Last night, after Skyping with Mama and Papa Patel and enjoying me un bicchiere di vino bianco at the wine place literally across the street from me, I was ready to blog and call it a night around 1. My roommate Sophie gets a call from her friend who is outside at the Irish pub also across from us and goes down to meet her. After 10 minutes or so, I get a call from Sophie asking me to open the door because her key doesn't work. Thinking that's kind of weird, but no problem , I get up to answer the door. No go. After 35 minutes of futile attempts at turning our keys, we had to call the emergency NYU number.

Being NYU, they were of course extremely helpful...yeah fucking right. No, NYU sends over a PA (an Indian girl I know) which is basically an RA, aka a junior student just like us. After another 45 minutes of the same shit, they send over an RHM, an older staff member who is just as useless. We waste 2 hours trying to open the door. The RHM continues to think that I'm withholding crucial information about the door or that I'm some sort of neanderthal that doesn't know how to operate a fucking lock. Look lady, I know how to turn a key, alright? And even though it is so fun to sit here and waste my time, I swear, I'm not lying to you about what's on the other side of the door just so we can hang out like this.

Keep in mind, the door is unopenable from either side--that means Sophie can't get in, but me, Jenny and Shelly (my suitemates) also can't get out. And it's the Sunday before the first day of school. Was I inspired to write an R&B saga about it? Perhaps.

We're told that there is nothing that can be done, that "this is Italy and no one will come help right now." Fuck. That. So Sophie is whisked away to campus, which is so out of the way, and we are told that someone from maintenance will come at 7 am. Shelly has to be out of the apartment by 8 am for class--things are not looking promising. Anyway, the results? Maintenance man Marco comes at like 830, somehow opens the door but tells us that yes, it is messed and needs to be fixed, but who knows when that will happen. Shelly and Jenny both miss their first classes, but are excused because of the circumstances. Then Sophie returns to our apartment in the morning and is forced to pay for her own cab ride back from campus even though she has no wallet. Had we been able to just call Marco at 1 am last night when this all happened, this fiasco could have been just a fiascino. I hate NYU sometimes.

Anyway, here are some pictures from Saturday. Firenze is still amazing, even if NYU is stupid sometimes.

La mia cona con gelato di crema


At a cafe in La Piazza di Santa Croce


On of my favorite buildings on my street with a once completely painted facade


Wandering around my neighborhood


A domani!
Nami

Link

Wednesday, August 26, 2009

C'è internet!

I finally have internet in this apartment, oh glory of all glories. I had no idea I was such an internet whore, but it seems whenever I leave the country, the internet becomes my umbilical cord to my life-as-I-know-it. Which consists of, obviously, all you people that I love. And even those I don't (that means you Mary).

Yesterday I moved in to my new apartment around 3 o' clock. My other roommates did not arrive until 6, and for a while during my wait, I feared that I was going to be living here all alone. No worries, they showed up. My apartment is in the very heart of Firenze, a 5 minute walk from il Duomo and a 10 minute walk from the frenata dell'autobus where I catch the bus to campus (also unbelievable). I am living in an NYU-leased apartment, meaning it is NOT off-campus housing but rather, an NYU sublet. There is AC in my room, though not in the other (I'm living with 3 other girls--2 of us per room), beautiful exposed brick walls, a cute kitchen, a washing machine, clothing lines outside the window for drying laundry, and plenty of sunlight. Our building is super old and we are on the third and topmost floor--there are only 3 rooms in this entire building--of a walk-up.

Walking from my apartment, Borgo degli Albizi 3, to the Duomo


Outside Villa Ullivi at La Pietra, NYU's campus

Our neighborhood is great too, very young and lively, with an absolutely amazing restaurant called Natalino right below us and an Irish pub that I don't plan on frequenting across the street. The old Italian man who dropped me off yesterday also told me there are many heroin addicts nearby. Great. Haven't seen any yet though.

Pear-filled pasta with gorgonzola cream sauce at Natalino, as amazing as it sounds

Orientation was today, continuing tomorrow and Friday. Then classes start on the 31st. Since this is a leased apartment, we didn't have internet so we spent a good 4 hours researching different companies this afternoon and FINALLY purchased internet for 39 euro a month, plus a 38 euro installation fee and a 30 euro refundable deposit. I bought my cell phone from the same man, who I thought until today was scamming us, but have decided he is alright. I think I've made it clear that if he fucks with me, I will come at him ATL style. Y'all know what that means, suckas.

On another note, I find myself already becoming comfortable with my Italian, asking questions (at the risk of making an ass out of myself) freely and without feeling self-conscious. I also am drinking lots of delicious vino--all types, I don't discriminate. Mm mm boy. Che cosa bella!

Yesterday I also got to meet up with Alex, and it was a breath of fresh air to see a familiar face. For a brief moment, I found myself frustrated with having to revert back to the freshman-esque unfamiliarity with everyone, annoyed knowing that I already had friends I loved back home and didn't want to bother making new ones. Thankfully, I came to my senses. My roommates are nice and we've been hanging out some, and I'm excited for classes to start--to both jumpstart my social life and give me some sort of structure to my days.

Carousel and street performers in la Piazza de la Republica

Speaking of new friends, yesterday as Alex and I were walking around at night, trying to find a place to sit down over a drink and talk, I spotted none other than banana-pants Magoo! WEARING THE SAME BANANA PANTS! I hope he is like Doug and has a closet full of those pants. Anyway, though I do think he's a good guy, I didn't feel like being dragged out to the bar he was going to so Al and I spent some time alone at a cafe next to my apartment where I think the waitress hates me.

Okay, it has taken me 2 hours to upload pictures on this damn connection and the rowdy bar downstairs is dead silent, apart from the noise of departing Vespas. Before I go, a few things:
1) My Skype name is naminyu. Add me motherfuckers!
2) I also have a cell number you can call, so let me know if you miss my melodious voice and I'll give it to you.
3) Comment on this blog! I am not feeling the love.
4) Apartment pictures to come.

Buonanotte,
Nami

Monday, August 24, 2009

La Vita è Buona

So I’m sitting in the hotel bar, drinking prosecco…I hope that came off as pretentious as I was going for. Anyways, the first entry is often the longest because I have way too much time on my hands right now.

4 cities, 3 planes, and almost 17 hours later, I arrived in Florence yesterday afternoon around 3. Some quick highlights:
1) I got virtually no sleep on the trans-Atlantic flight from Chicago to Zurich because of the endearing, yet baffling non-English speaking babushka sitting next to me who found it necessary to poke me every so often and non-verbally ask frantic questions about various things on the plane. Yes babushka, this is the remote. Yes babushka, I do have my seatbelt on. Yes babushka, I will open your packet of cheese for you since your weird old hands can’t.
2) Ran into Hayden Panettiere at baggage claim. No big deal. Went up to her and asked, “Are you Hayden Panettiere?”, quickly realized I had nothing more to say, and so once she confirmed I smoothly ended our conversation with a “Cool” and decided she was a bitch. Good to know my awkwardness isn’t specific to one country.

Il Duomo

Anyway, I got to the hotel, took a much-needed shower, dicked around the room re-organizing my things and whatnot, and then passed-the-fuck-out for like 9 hours. So today marked my first full day in Florence, or I guess should appropriately say Firenze, and it did not let me down. I took the bus from my hotel to downtown Firenze, a 15-minute drive. With no real plan in mind, I decided I’d head for the obvious and eventually found myself within il Duomo, engulfed in a sea of fannypacks and shutterflashes. It was absolutely gorgeous but I tired of the crowd and realized I’d undoubtedly return soon, so I headed out with no sense of direction and began wandering the cobblestone streets in the almost unbearable heat. I decided to try and find where my apartment will be, but inevitably got lost and thought it better to get some gelato. I attempted to place my order in Italian, and didn’t fail too horribly, but once asked further questions I had nothing to offer but a dumbstruck face.

So off I go again, eating my gelato, dripping it on my pants, the usual. By this point, I’m heading in what I’m pretty sure is the right direction towards my future apartment, so I’ve got a swing in my step and am feeling good. I slow down my New York pace and enjoy watching the people the pass me by, tourists and Florentines alike. I silently laugh at the man in front of me, dressed in a tailored white button-down shirt, white belt, white shoes, and tight, bright yellow pants. I continue walking until I hear a question directed at me in Italian. Why, it’s banana-pants Magoo! I’m again dumbstruck and tell him I don’t speak Italian, so he begins talking to me in English. Those of you who know me well know that I am easily skeeved out by guys, so though I was polite, I continued walking hoping he’d soon go his own separate way. But no, and turns out he is pretty normal and sane.

Sitting on Ponte Santa Trinita, overlooking the Fiume Arno

Audience, meet Stefano Sabini. Real estate lawyer specializing in re-finished wine estates. Works independently, consults a large Tuscan contracting company. I spent nearly 3 hours of my day with Stefano. He first took me to a delicious little hole-in-the wall restaurant where we drank red wine, ate fig tarts, pecorino cheese with honey, and—HOLY SHIT GUYS—melon and figs with prosciutto, salty Italian ham. That’s right, I ate pig. And it wasn’t all bad. But I don’t know if I’d order it for myself anytime soon, but how great to try new things. We spoke about the EU, the economy, our respective cultures and specifically, romance in each culture. After insisting on paying for said meal, Stefano acted as my own personal tour guide and took me around Florence to appreciate the beauty off the beaten track. Around 4, he had to get back to work and I, though glad to have met him, was ready for some alone time. I crossed the Fiume Arno and sat in a piazza writing and reading. Stefano and I exchanged e-mail addresses and I do hope that we hang out again. I am not interested in him romantically but I do think he is an alright guy who’d make a great (and valuable) friend in this foreign city. During our next encounter, though, I’ll probably bring along an extra body just to get a second opinion. But seriously guys, he is normal. I know a few of you are worried. STOP.

View from my hotel room

On Ponte Vecchio, photo courtesy of the Spanish couple

Anyway, my day ended with a long and lovely walk across Ponte Vecchio (where I got to use my Spanish and ask a gay couple from Bar-the-lona to take my picture—huzzah!) and then a dinner of prosecco, artichokes (mmmm), and ravioli with walnut cream sauce at an outdoor restaurant on the Piazza del Mercato Centrale. Back to the hotel, take a bath, soon find out I don’t really like baths, and now here I am. Tomorrow I leave for La Pietra, NYU’s flamboyant Florentine campus. La vita è buona—life is good.

Ciao,
Nami