Non Parla Italiano, Lo Canto

"No good stories start with 'We got to the airport 2 hours early and everything was fine.'"

- Coleen Halloran

March 4 - 8

Where to begin? I guess at the beginning.

Thursday was a rough day for me. I was still recovering from being sick and we had stayed up late the night before doing... something. Oh, Accountancy in the UK group project stuff and checking into flights online. See how glamorous studying in London is?

So, anyways, Thursday I was up bright and early. I didn't have class, but I needed to go buy some better walking shoes and pack the spring break bag. Because I'm me, I was naturally running late and we didn't hop on the bus to the coach station until 15 minutes-ish after we had planned. Of course, we got turned around and didn't get to the coach station until 30 minutes after we had planned, so we missed the bus to the airport we had wanted to take.

No big deal, right? Wrong. Apparently, transportation/travel companies think it's okay to blatantly lie on their websites (more about this later) and the bus to the airport takes 2 hours, not 45 minutes.

Solution? Cab.

£100 later we made it to the airport at 430. The gate closes at 430. We were completely those people in the airport. I mean, I've never seen them in real life, only in movies, but you know those people. The ones cutting lines with the girl about to cry because they're going to miss their flight. But the people of London reaffirmed my faith in the goodness of humanity and we made it from the cab to the gate in 7 MINUTES!

Yeah, that's right. 7 minutes. Credit goes to Lizzie Schwegman, the master of airport security and conqueror of check-in desk lines.

But wait, I forgot to mention a crucial detail. Contrary to everything I have ever learned from watching Scooby Doo, we split up. Fred and Daphne (Charlie and Coleen) managed to get to the coach station on time and hopped on the bus. The bus that takes 2 hours, not 45 mins.

So Lizzie, Peter and I are sitting on the plane, literally praying (hey, we go to ND) and who are the last 2 people through the door? Fred and Daphne. It was amazing. That entire first afternoon was like something out of a bad movie, but I think we made it through it just fine. If anything, it set the tone for the rest of break: bad things might happen, but we are a team.

And there was much rejoicing.

Our flight got into Pisa fine (everyone cheered when we landed?) and we hopped a bus to our hostel. Which happened to be RIGHT NEXT TO THE TOWER. Literally 100 yards from the base of the frickin' Leaning Tower of Pisa. And I know it sounds ridiculous to say it, but yeah, it really does lean. It was amazing at night. The piazza was empty except for us and some policemen and it was just beautiful. The first of many experiences that I can't begin to describe with words or pictures. So we checked into our hostel, which was really more of a B&B, and hit the town. Ten minutes later, we'd seen everything there is to see in Pisa. So we had some celebratory nothing-else-can-happen-that's-as-bad-as-today's-trip-to-the-airport (ha!) drinks with Robbie, the random Australian guy at our hostel that the boys picked up, and headed back home.

Now, silly me, I was tired after the long day and ready for bed. But the boys? Oh no. They needed bonding time. I wasn't there so I can't really say what they did, but the story they tell involves cheap "hobo" booze that was allegedly free (if it doesn't have a price on it then its free, right? right?) and being chased by the police at the tower. I guess I'll never understand male bonding.

I think the girls made the better choice by going to bed.

The next day we went back to the airport and picked up our car, a Fiat hatchback we named Figgy. Peter was the driver and Charlie navigated (because he's a man) and the girls all sat in the back and yelled at our lovely copilot to switch the radio station every 3 or 4 minutes. Coleen, who is a saint, sat in the middle most of the time because she rocks that way. The ride out to the house was unreal. Completely and absolutely ridiculous. We got lost a few times I guess (that didn't really concern us silly women in the backseat) but the views were amazing. I can't even begin to describe it.

We finally got to the house around lunch time, so after getting keys/a tour from Enrica, the lady who watches the house for the owner, we wandered down to a little market/deli thing by the house. I definitely did not climb a tree by the house and get stuck. And the boys totally didn't need to rescue me. It just didn't happen.

Let me set this up: we aren't in a city. We aren't really even in a town. We are out in the countryside, the "real" Italy. Five Americans stroll in. If there had been music playing when we walked in, it would have screeched to a stop and everyone would have turned and stared. In reality, there was a girl who looked around our age. We all stared at each other for a solid 30 seconds of awkward silence and the she was like, "... Panini?"

We finally managed to communicate that we wanted to just look around (a foreign concept to her, I think) and wandered back into the store. I guess the girl went and found the only English speaker around, because a few minutes later an older gentleman walked in and asked us if we needed help. Apparently he lived in New York City in the 70s.

About this time, Peter got super excited about some salami, so we ended up getting some super delicious sandwiches for lunch. I suppose, in retrospect, that the coppa was worth all the excitement, but I had my doubts at first.

Remember Enrica from before? She's a super cool lady, very nice and she speaks English very well. She also is MARRIED TO A BEEKEEPER! Awesome, right? Okay, maybe that doesn't sound that exciting, but it was super cool. She took us on a tour and showed us how they make honey and pollen and then let us taste all the different honeys and pollen they make. It's all organic and delicious. We all bought some and she gave us some more, so I've been eating a lot of honey lately. Maybe it's because everything tastes better in Italy or maybe it's because they are the best producers of honey in Italy (no really, he's invented cool machines and stuff), but the honey was unlike anything I've ever tasted.

You'd think honey is honey is honey, right? Wrong. They had several different kinds with very distinct flavors. There was one that was even a little bitter. It went great in our vanilla flavored tea.

THEN we went to Lucca. But wait, you say, aren't you staying in Lucca?

Nope. Lucca was a solid 10 minute drive away (or would have been if we didn't get lost every time). And we went to see the old walled city, which was great. We definitely drove around the same traffic triangle (the Italians like to be different) at least 5 times though. And then ended up in some really narrow alleys that were NOT intended for cars. Luckily, Pietro is an excellent driver and he managed to find a parking garage without hitting any walls or taking off a mirror. The picture is him standing in a street he drove through.

Lucca was awesome. There were beautiful little piazzas everywhere and cute little shops and delicious gelaterias, and and and...

I love Italy. I'm sorry, Mommy, I'm never coming home. I'm going to go back to Italy after the London program ends. A girl by herself with a 3/4 finished accountancy degree who knows about 5 words in Italian will be able to get a job, right?

Anyways, Lucca was amazing. We walked the city walls and took ridiculous jumping pictures. Then (this is where it gets good) we went home ate fresh ravioli, drank chianti annnnd

PLAYED SCRABBLE!

Dad, I wish you had been there to dominate. You know I'm terrible at it, but it helped that we allowed ND proper nouns (like Ara) and Italian words. I still lost, but I don't think I embarrassed myself too badly.

I guess it must sound pretty lame that we stayed in and played board games, but it was a great night. I really got to know everyone really well. Charlie and Peter are both such nice guys. The way they were happy to carry bags full of our stuff and looked out for us ladies when things got sketchy really did convince me that chivalry isn't dead after all. Coleen, one of my roomies, is an amazing, sweet girl. Having said that, she has an amazing sense of humor. She always sneaks those little jokes in and it's like... wait, what did you just say?! Lizzie is awesome. I teased her, but without her planning and research my spring break wouldn't have been half as awesome as it was. I probably would have just wandered around wondering if there was anything to do in Paris. And she plays a mean game of Scrabble, but she showed mercy when I had 5 vowels and no idea what to do.

The next morning we headed up to Cinque Terre, which was fabulous and amazing and breathtaking and perfect and a bunch of other adjectives that I can't think of right now. We had to drive about an hour to get there, but it was through some of the most beautiful country I’ve ever seen.

Some things can't be captured in pictures or words and that day is one of those things. It may have been the best day of my life so far.

Favorite part of the day? We were hiking between the first two towns on La Vie d'Amore, when we found a ridiculously steep staircase (Emily, you would have hated it) down to the water. There wasn't a beach to speak of because it was cliffs and rocky so we spread out on the flattest rock we could find, took off our shoes and rolled up our jeans and ate a picnic lunch. The sun was out and we had good friends and good food and good times.

I was in the second town, Manarola, when you called me, Dad. It might have been my favorite town. It's the one in the picture and it was adorable. All pastel houses built into the sides of hills and beautiful views of the Mediterranean. We rode trains to the next two towns. We took a break in the third, Corniglia, and drank local wine and admired the views and in the fourth town, Vernazza, we continued our gelato crawl and learned the Italian word for jellyfish, meduzza.

We had to hop a train back to the first town then to rescue Figgy from the parking garage that closed at 6pm. Since we didn’t need to worry about silly things like driving and navigating, all of us ladies in the passed out in the backseat. Too much fresh air and exercise, I guess. The boys stopped at the market and bought supplies, which we slept through, and then made us dinner when we got home. The carbonara was delicious, but I guess the boys couldn’t resist snacking on the pancetta while they were cooking, so we only got a piece or two each.
After dinner, Claudia and Luca, Enrica’s daughter and her boyfriend, came over to hang out. They spoke about as much English as we did Italian, but we managed to talk and hang out for a solid few hours over some delicious local wine and honey, cheese and fruit. At one point Claudia and Luca asked everyone about their significant others (everyone but me is dating) and when they got to me I was just like… Uh, I’m single. But I have cats? So the crazy cat lady-ness begins. Sometimes, it was hard being the only single one on the trip,

but then I remember that I still get to have hot hate sex with random strangers and I feel SO much better.

Relax, Mom and Dad, that’s a quote from 27 Dresses.

Anyways, back to Spring Break:

The next day was our last in Italy, so we decided on a day trip to Florence. Papa Landis woke us up early with his patented turn-on-the-lights method. It’s an old Indian trick, passed down generation to generation for thousands of years in the Landis family. Very effective. So we stumbled out to Figgy and mad our way to the train station in Lucca. Everyone but me passed out on the train almost immediately.

Okay, this part’s important: A few minutes into the train ride, a woman wandered by and dropped pieces of paper onto our laps and bags. Apparently, if you touch the paper or make eye contact she will expect you to give her money. So when she came back by we all stared in different directions and pretended to not notice her. She muttered under her breath and we joked that she cursed us. Little did we know…

Not long after this, the ticket-checker guy came by. And of course, we had forgotten to validate our ticket. Apparently, this is supposed to be a €50 fine, but I guess the guy felt bad for us for being cursed or something because he only charged us €5. Once again, the Italians showed themselves to be a friendly people.

We made it to Florence in plenty of time to get to get to 10:30 mass at Il Duomo. I was pretty excited because I could remember learning about the artwork under the dome in my art history class freshman year. I was surprised at how few people were there, but we got front row seats so that was sweet. But because we go to ND and we're amazing we ran into a group of ND girls. The dome was amazingly beautiful, of course. Not as good as THE dome, but still good. Seeing it in real life was about a million times more impressive than seeing it on a projector in a dark room in O'Shag (building abbrevs make me miss campus).

After mass we found a little touristy pizzeria for lunch. It was overpriced, but it was the first time we'd eaten out. After, we walked down to L'Academia to check out David. Because it was the "Day of Women" in Italy, us ladies got in free and the boys had to pay. Suck it, boys! Go girls, go!

David was amazing, almost overwhelming. But then most 15 ft tall naked men are, I guess. I'd give his body a 10, but he kinda has a butt chin. Seriously though, the David is a phenomenal work of art. I could have stayed for hours.

Michelangelo's unfinished sculptures were almost more impressive. Actually, I'll just admit they were more impressive. I love sculpture. It has always amazed me that someone can take a chunk of rock and turn it into something beautiful, but I have never understood how it happens. The unfinished works would be rough blocks of marble, but a shoulder and arm or part of a torso would be partially finished. You could just imagine the rest of the sculpture trapped in there. It was very impressive.

After, we walked to the Ponte Vecchio (Old Bridge). Unfortunately, Peter made the mistake of touching Coleen or something, so Charlie had to fight him. I guess you don't touch Charlie's woman. Don't worry, they hugged it out later.

Peter touched Coleen, so...

Charlie reached back like a pimp and slapped the ho.

In fact, since I'm on the topic of Peter and Charlie, I'm going to take this opportunity to comment on their friendship. Peter and Charlie are roommates and both nice boys, so they were already pretty good friends before we left. I went into this trip with the expectation of witnessing a blossoming romance, but I expected to see Coleen and Charlie being sickeningly sweet, not Peter and Charlie. Seriously, the bromance was ridic. I guess they had to stick together since the ladies outnumbered them, but from play fighting in front of the Duomo to the inside jokes to taking over the kitchen it was hilariously awesome to watch the men bond. Plus, now we get to make bromance jokes.


Anyways, on the way to Ponte Vecchio we stopped at a market. I got a sweet mask, Peter got some scarves, Charles got a silk tie and Coleen got a wallet. It was a pretty successful stop. Ponte Vecchio was cool; there were sweet views of the city.

Okay, I have to start this next part with an apology to Lizzie. I was a huge you-know-what at this point because I was tired and my feetsies hurt. And Lizzie really wanted to climb some big hill to the Piazzale di Michelangelo that had great views of the city at the top. And we went along, slowly and unhappily, but we went. And I was so glad that Lizzie pushed us to go because not only did she reward us with gelato at the top but the views were AMAZING. And we ran into a SMC girl. And we saw a guy wearing an ND jacket. It's a small world after all...

After that, we called it a day. Peter got a McItaly from McDonald's (wish I was joking) and we caught the train home.

The general feeling in the group was that since it was our last night in Italy, we needed to go get a really good dinner out. So we drove around and around and around and finally found a place that looked promising: Il Gattino Bianco. And it was AMAZING. It was a solid meal. I wasn't really sure what I wanted, so I just asked the waiter what he recommended from the seafood menu and went with that. I got a mixed seafood sampler for antipasto, I-can't-remember-what for my primo piato and stuffed calamari for my main course. Coleen got some delicious red meat for her main course, but it was done medium rare (warm and red), which was too rare for her. So I agreed to switch. I think I won, because it was delicious.

Actually, Peter got truffle oil filet, ftw (ftw stands for "for the win")

Back at the house, we had a significant amount of wine left to drink, so we got started on that and threw a load of laundry in the wash.

Now, this is when things start to get crazy. The washer was located in the bathroom. I was taking a shower. I stepped out of the shower into 2 inches of freezing water. I'm still not sure what happened, but it can't have been good. I stopped the washer and reached in to check the clothes and the washer shocked me a little. That's when I realized I was standing in water with obviously malfunctioning heavy machinery still plugged in. Oops. So I unplugged and started yelling for the boys. Everyone kinda looked at it for a while, which was fun because I was still in my towel, and then we just decided we would have to finish washing them by hand. By we, I mean, the women, of course. So the boys brought us glasses of wine and we pulled out our pioneer skills.

Unfortunately, the clothing was still damp until we got to Paris.

The next day we got up early, headed up to the airport, returned the car and hopped the plane to Barcelona. Our Italian leg of the trip drew to a close and with it went all the plans we had made. But that's a whole different story...

Mom, you'd better not be talking to strangers on that cruise.