A taste of the Italy pictures....

on the edge of Pompeii

all the markets in Naples are outside. here's the fishies and the eels. ew. 

this is an urn in the St. Peter's basilica...creepy vatican city...

vespas, cobblestones, shoddy parking jobs. thees eez italy.

tight ruins, rome. 

Colosseum! 

mad tourists in Piazza di Spagna

sexy. 

Motorized tricycle in Ischia...haha. 

"Mom, guess what we did today?...ate gelato!! oh, and saw the Pope!"

"The World is Changing..." Wow. I'm digging the graffiti question-mark. 

My favorite sculpture, Michaelangelo's Pieta in St. Peter's basilica

Outside our Roman bungalow with a couple of boxes of cheap vino di tavolo!

The Spanish-built castle outside of our hotel in Naples! Looks fake, huh. 
 

Pompeii--so perfectly preserved...

A view of the Mediterranean from the island of Ischia

Chris was really excited about the party box being on sale after New Years was over...sweet 'stache, by the way...

chillin with an anonymous pompous figure in Villa Borghese

Oh yeah, hey America, what's up?

Two things happened today that brought my head out of the international cloud and back home. 

1. The inauguration of Barack Obama. 

In spite of the fact that this day has been all over the news, internet, and mouths of CU students, I almost forgot today was the day until I walked in the UMC on campus and saw the enormous screens set up for the viewing pleasure of those not in class. I entered just in time to blush at Barack stumbling over the chief justice's words as he was sworn in. I watched his whole speech with tears welling in my eyes. I was uplifted by his words. For the first time in a long time, I actually felt hopeful. Obviously hope has been at the crux of his campaign, but in all honesty, it felt pretty empty until today. Lately, I've been pretty concerned about the rise and fall of empires, and America certainly appears to be on its way downhill. But Barack truly helped me find some faith in the perseverance and strength of America. When I saw a woman in the crowd, who was not an American citizen say as she looked out into the audience of all colors, creeds, and classes coming together, "I'm jealous of America. No other country in the world would be able to do this." One thing that really struck a chord with me was one simple word Barack used: "imagination." 

When it comes to all the trouble we are currently facing, I now I just can't wait to see what we all come up with. 

2. Laura and Brent were accepted into Teach for America. 

The two teammates I work with on recruitment for Teach for America were just accepted into the corps. Being a Campus Campaign Coordinator (our job title) does not give you much of an edge over the other amazing candidates that apply for TFA. Laura and Brent are both such amazing human beings, that the thought of the highly selective organization overlooking them was heartbreaking. But I'm so pleased to find out that my fears were in vain. By next year, I will have four friends working in the Corps: Jessa (English in Memphis), Darren (physics in Atlanta), Laura (art in the Delta) and Brent (special ed in Louisiana). I am so touched by their service and again, so hopeful for change to the inequity in our national public education system. With folks like this fighting in the "trenches," I do know reform can and will happen. I am just so EXCITED for these guys to be a part of it. Here is a clip from Oprah that shows the problem in public schools that I am talking about, and committed to fighting. 

A part of me feels like I'm abandoning some heavy issues at home that I could be fighting (especially by throwing all my dollars at another nation's economy...), but I know that I will gain a valuable perspective abroad that will help me to be a strong citizen of the US. 

ciao bella italia.

So. 

I've made it back from Italy--alive and kickin'!

Chris and I had an amazing time riding the A -line metro through Rome, visiting downtown restaurants, upscale boutiques (from a distance), and getting pudgy from street pizza and spaghetti carbonara. It was dreamy. We were also lucky that Europeans all have a fondness for public displays of affection, so Chris and I could meander around shamelessly locked to each other--especially in the famously romantic villa Borghese, where we wandered through amazing art museums, outdoor monuments, and watched the ducks splash about in the big fancy pond. 

I had envisioned a very touristy jaunt through the city, but it's amazing how much you can learn about a culture simply by opting for public transportation. We had to take a bus from our hostel to the metro stop in order to get to the city center, and that's where we saw "real" italy. That, and in Napoli--Craziest city of all time (and not in an entirely good way...but we certainly enjoyed our stay). Here is a link to Chris' spot on description of our Neapolitan experience. We still enjoyed a great deal of touristy spots (Spanish steps, Colosseum, Pompeii, Pantheon, Vatican City, etc), but it still felt very cultural to me, seeing as how most of the tourists were European and I don't know much about ANY European peoples!

 I loved watching the styles. I'm sure Chris got annoyed of me talking about clothes. Especially complaining about how little I fit in with my behind-the-times brown wool peacoat when EVERYONE was wearing black down jackets with furry hoods (and I mean everyone...it was almost frightening). There was no color in Europe. Only black and dark colors that look black. But, people are definitely flashier in Italy. All the jeans were gaudy as hell, and everyone's hair, and shoes, and sunglasses were just so shiny and bold. Designer wear was everywhere, but with the amount of black-market knockoffs being sold on the street, chances are most are fake. It turned out that one of the most fun places to style-watch was the McDonald's by the Spanish Steps. First off, did you guys know how unfair McDonald's is being to us? They have shrimp, parmesan spinach balls, gelato, and a full espresso bar at the Italian McDonald's. Royal treatment overseas! What is this?? That Mickey D's (which we did not eat at, thank you very much, only used the facilities) was the largest restaurant I've seen in my entire life. It was packed full of expensively dressed European families chowing down on those oh so exquisite french fries. There was mock classical statues and silver emblazoned logos. They don't mess around in Europe. Damn. 

Italian people are goofy. Boisterous, loud, kind of aggressive, but very good natured. I noticed also that Italians know exactly what they want. If you go to a cafe, you do not look at all the choices and linger on the menus. You come in knowing exactly what it is you are looking for and promptly bounce. The baristas and waiters would get so irritated with Chris and I dilly-dallying over pizza choices. Most restaurants have the entire menus and prices displayed grandly outside the door to avoid such silliness and even clothing stores have enormous price tags on all the clothes sitting in the display window. Shopping can be more of a surgical strike that way, I suppose. I didn't fit in because I'm indecisive. That personality trait was almost deadly when it came to traffic. I don't even like jay-walking in Boulder--the pedestrian capital of the world. But, if I couldn't get over that and just blindly walk into traffic as if there weren't hundreds of speeding Fiats ignoring lane lines and pedestrian crossings, I would not have been able to get anywhere! Italian traffic is disgusting and hilarious. All those tiny smart cars zipping around like a derby race and old ladies and women with strollers dodging them to get to the grocery store...what a sight. 

Two of my favorite things to pay attention to in other countries: the people and the architectural subtleties. I'm no expert, but Rome is quite stunning because of the spectrum of ages of all the architecture. Ancient buildings like the Pantheon to flashy new airports: they call it a time machine. But I enjoy the smaller elements of buildings and architecture. You can definitely tell what pictures I took because I couldn't stop getting excited about little things, like shutters, doors, alleyways, and the laundry hanging from balconies. When you live somewhere, those special little nuances are easy to forget on a day-to-day basis, but I have a deep appreciation for them.

One thing I certainly found interesting about Italy was how wonderful a warm-up the travel experience is for Argentina. Not only do I have a better grasp of the sing-song romance accent, but I've gotten some important experience for big city maneuvering. Also, because Chris left early and I had a few days to myself, I was able to come to terms with the skills I seriously lack as a traveler. Who knew paying attention was so important?

I got into some jams (expensive ones at that) because I was not as observant as I needed to be in order to successfully get from place to place. Turns out my intelligence when it comes to space and direction is pretty below par! That's something I need to practice, and not be so dependent on others for figuring out maps, train routes, bus systems, neighborhoods, and the path back home. 

I also experienced some overwhelming loneliness when I had a big hotel room all to myself and no means of connecting with any of my loved ones. I felt pretty pathetic, knowing how lucky I was to have such a sweet set-up (thanks, Mom) and such a short stay, but still have mad anxiety. It was something I'd never experienced. That tendency of mine is something important that I need to face in order to adequately prepare myself for Buenos Aires. Upon my return the states, I promptly facebooked all the kids going from CU on my program, hoping that somebody will be going to BA early like me, so that I can explore the possibility of having a travel partner. Being the inexperienced traveler I am, I have no problem being reliant on a team effort (at least for the time being). I hope to connect myself with my one young contact down there, Natalia, a girl who studied abroad in Boulder last semester. 

We've got lots of pictures that will make there way onto the blog and facebook, so be on the lookout! 

Love Letters to Morocco

I'm a about to turn a corner.

I am an international affairs major, attempting to become culturally competent in a globalized world, 

yet I've never left the

United States. 

(save a quick stop on the Canadian side of Niagra Falls, when I was ten.) 

I've been trying to fly alongside Chris in his North African adventure. I love listening to him speak French to the cafe employees, I am fascinated by the jarring Rabat traffic noise I can sometimes hear outside during Skype calls, I like to imagine the atmosphere during Muslim holidays, and I love seeing the photos of sunsets, deserts, and and mountains. But, there's only so much I can experience through second hand stories and glimpses of Rabat's internet cafes. Someday I will make it to Morocco, myself. For now, a couple other destinations are on my path. Chris has finally finished the semester and is now skipping through the streets of Marseilles. Soon we will be reuniting in Italy. My first foreign country with by boo. wow! 

It's going to be a very new experience. I don't know how to plan a trip, I don't really know how to travel. (Chris will keep my ignorance-induced anxiety at a minimum though.) We've obtained a Lonely Planet guide and I told Visa not to restrict my card, and soon I'll have my passport stamped for the very first time and join Mr. Well-Travelled in Italy!!! 

I owe a lot of thanks to my parents for helping me support this trip (especially for all those hotel points and free United miles, thanks mom!). I also am so thankful for Chris for getting me out of my domestic comfort zone, so that we can have an incredible Roman, Neopolitan, and Tuscan experience. I will also be so thankful for being exposed to the Italian accent before I hop to Buenos Aires this spring. The Argentine people wish they were Italian, apparently. I don't know too much about Italy now, but hopefully after a shameless tourist stint, I'll be able to flaunt my expertise. ;) 

Pictures and reflections to follow....

the sophomore.

 a look at the beginning of fall...

I wake up to the radio alarm of a tired 90s rock song. My eyes are half open and I have the typical early morning confusion. I slide reluctantly out of bed to turn off the blasting music. I stand for a moment, debating with myself how bad it could possibly be if I slipped back into bed for oh, maybe 15 more minutes. For a college student at 7am, the most rational thing to do is always going back to sleep. When I finally get myself downstairs, I open the fridge disappointingly. Hungry, lazy, health-conscious, and broke is a tough combination.  I somehow manage to scrounge something together from our myriad choices of condiments. I choose maté to appease my caffeine addiction. 

I repeatedly check my planner, making sure I am carrying with me everything I need for the busy day in my burnt orange Prada knockoff. I don't want to have to walk up 9th street more times than necessary. When I get out the door, I am absolutely enamored with the early morning breeze of a day late in August. It smells like trees and asphalt. There is still shade covering most of the sidewalk. Shaggy-haired boys longboard down College Avenue and sorority girls in Nike shorts run with their ipods. When I get close to Broadway, I smile at the eager artsy types exiting Espresso Roma and nod to the "transients" lounging on benches outside the tattoo parlor. 

I am an hour early to campus in order to make my three minute Teach for America presentation for a class that may or may not give a shit about what I have to say. I try not to sound cliché when I make a call to action. I want to sound relatable and engaging, while maintaining a sense of passion that will excite my classmates. They stare at me. I cannot tell what they are thinking. That's what it must be like to teach at CU. You pour your heart out to blank faces, hoping something you say will resonate with somebody. But, odds are, most are thinking about the shenanigans to come this weekend, or how shitty they feel from last night's shenanigans, or how they wish they could be participating in shenanigans instead of sitting bored in this stupid class. How sad. 

For the most part, I find my classes interesting. I'm taking an innovative multi-media rhetoric class, a number of international courses that focus on political and economic behavior, an Afro-Cuban dance class, and a Spanish conversation class. The day is full of taking one hat off and putting another on as I balance my school schedule with my Cultural Events Board, Teach for America, City Manager's Advisory Committee, and social commitments. 

I remind myself that I thrive in a full schedule. I keep my chin up, and embrace my day. There is a lot of walking back and forth between buildings. A class here, a meeting there, and TFA presentations in between. I have a lot of energy and am enjoying the lovely weather. 

But by the late afternoon, as I trudge back up 9th street. My mind is in a different place. As my blood sugar dwindles and my to-do list stacks, I throw myself into one of the plush seats in my kitchen and groan. The thought I have been trying to keep out of my head all day bursts out, "I'm crazy..." I tell my mom.  

A cat-nap, a cup of tea, or a snack usually gets me back to normal. I get excited thinking about my upcoming Skype conversation with Chris. I situate myself on my bed with pillows,a fluffy comforter, and my MacBook, and log into the system. Chris looks good. Although he seems to have given up on shaving and he still wears a band-aid on his forehead from that mishap at Aric's pool, he is an extremely welcome escape from Boulder. We exchange stories, worries, excitements, and sweet nothings for about an hour before he departs for another adventure. We miss each other a lot, but technology does wonders for long-distance relationships.  

The rest of the night, I knock out out some studying, prepare myself for the tasks of the next day, and then do something fun. My mom and I chat over white wine until I decide to mosey. There are more conversations (and, uh, shenanigans) to be had and I decide to go find them. Hooray for fall. 

The Morning Marigold by Caroline Clark

The marigold retreats into itself at dusk. 

It protects itself from the night. 

A passerby, ignorant to this phenomenon, 

would never know its beauty. 

But when a ray of light emerges from the west,

the marigold awakens.

It stretches its petals, its posture restored. 

Radiant and loud, it displays its innermost seeds with pride. 

Why is the marigold afraid of the dark? 

Why can't the moon be privy to its splendor? 

What sights does it miss, hidden in itself?

We celebrate the Morning flower. 

Wake up, flower. 

Don't forget about the world beyond yourself.