Jazz Hands for Dubrovnik! And, oh, America

So my plan to finish upating my blog before the term finished in England clearly failed. Ah well. Just pretend I'm still there - that's what I'm doing.

Anyway, Croatia. It's one of those places that I never, ever imagined myself going, in large part because I had never really heard of it before I came to England. My flatmate and Travel Yoda, Laura, had visited Croatia before we started uni, however, and she absolutely loved it. Her photos were enough to convince me that it might be worth checking out. And oh, was it ever.

It has only been in the past few years that Croatia has started to become a tourist destination. This meant, in my experience at least, that there were far fewer people than we saw in Italy and that the pace of life was much more relaxed. Granted, I was in very busy, very tourist-centered areas of Italy, so I cannot generalise for the entire country. But going from Naples to Dubrovnik was akin to going from New York City to the Maine shoreline. Just much warmer. And since Croatia is relatively undiscovered as of yet, the people there are incredibly friendly, I imagine because they haven't been so inundated with tourists that they want to scream (or they could do what Londoners do, which is just walk extremely fast while looking directly ahead, attempting to ignore and/or run over tourists who have stopped to consult a map or who just aren't walking quickly enough) and because they know that they need to entice tourists to spend money in order to build up that industry. In Italy people were generally fairly grouchy (except Giovanni and Pasquale, obviously), I think because they know that you're going to spend your money anyway, so they don't have to be nice. In Croatia, however, the majority of the people we interacted with were so friendly and welcoming. Maybe it's just because they live in the most gorgeous place on the planet, so they're happy. I would be.

Why has Croatia remained an undiscovered gem? It has had an extremely turbulent history, so the region (neighbouring countries include Bosnia and Herzegovina and Serbia, to give you some idea) was not stable enough to support a tourist industry until very recently. Croatia was settled by the Croats as far back as the seventh century, and it has been part of the Austro-Hungarian Empire and, following World War II, the socialist Second Yugoslavia. Croatia only declared independence in 1991, but war with the Yugoslav National Army ensued. The Croatian War of Independence lasted until 1995, when Croatia was victorious, but the area was caught up in regional controversies over the treatment of ethnic Serbs and the actions of the armies on both sides. Thus, it is only recently that people have started to venture to Croatia on holiday. As word gets out, however, I think that this will change, because Croatia's Dalmation Coast has to be one of the most beautiful places in the entire world. I'll stop talking and just show you, shall I?


We took an overnight ferry from Bari, Italy to Dubrovnik, which is on the southern tip of Croatia. The ferry was an adventure in and of itself - I'll just say that Italy made England look like the Land of Efficiency that day. And we didn't shell out cash for proper cabins, so we slept in the bar, which was all kinds of uncomfortable, but makes for a good story. I woke up around half five in the morning to see this, the sun rising over Croatia. It was impossibly beautiful.


This is the view from the side of the highway - not even kidding. The sun literally sparkles on the Adriatic Sea, which is a gorgeous shade of teal, and the water is so clear that you can see all the say to the bottom. It's unreal.


After a gelato break, we climbed the city walls, which completely enclose Old Dubrovnik and lead to some of the most spectacular views that you can imagine. This is the view looking over the city toward the Old Port.


Travel buddies enjoying the sun and the breathtaking views. We all got sunburned up there!


The bells of St. Nicholas Church.


The Old Port - just look at the colour of the water. It's really like that, I promise.


I'm sitting on my couch now wondering, "Why on earth did I ever, ever leave this city????"


Absolutely one of the best days that I can ever remember - great friends, beautiful weather, amazing sights - does it get any better?


After a long day of gelato and taking in beautiful vista after beautiful vista, it's good to sit and dangle your feet in the Adriatic Sea while watching the sun set.

So yes, that was our first day in Croatia, and it was absolutely spectacular. We got an amazing sea food dinner in the city and then caught a free concert given by a travelling orchestra from Antwerp, Belgium. This was especially cool for me because I played in Antwerp when I was travelling with USYE, so it felt like an exchange of sorts. And they played "Lord of the Rings." I mean, come on now. This day could not have gotten any better. The next morning we bid adieu to Dubrovnik and boarded a bus to Split, which meant that we more or less drove a large part of the Dalmation Coast, and it was all breathtakingly beautiful, even from a bus window. More on that in my next post, however.

In other news, I've been back in the States for nine days now, and they have been the longest nine days of my life. Suffice to say that it has not been easy - the transition from Britain to small-town New England is not a kind one, and the Atlantic Ocean seems much bigger from this side than it did while I was in Norwich. It's going to be a "character-building" summer, I think. I'll try to write something more reflective when I've finished blogging about Croatia, and honestly I think that I'm still too upset and frustrated to do it properly at the moment, anyway. So instead of boring you with my current emotional turmoil (which was expected, but that doesn't make it easier), I will leave you with someone else's words, someone much wiser than myself. I found this poem last night when I was going through a particularly rough stretch, and it was perfect. It is a poem by Rumi, a thirteenth-century Afghan poet, who is just incredible.

The Guest House
This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they're a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing,
and invite them in.

Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.

The Adventure Continues

Hello, dear readers,

How are things? Good? Excellent. I'm still here, in case you were wondering. I just finished my exams yesterday, so massive sigh of relief on that front. I never have to worry about my Victorian Britain module again! That class is a great example of the differences in higher education between Britain and the United States. At home, we meet for class several times a week and discuss weekly readings that are (usually) linked into a cohesive whole that covers several aspects and/or perspectives of the topic that the class concerns. In Britain, the system is much more independent. Classes meet once or twice a week - for my history class we had one hour of lecture and one hour of seminar each week, and I found that there was no sense of continuity from week to week and no attempt to connect topics. Instead of assigning particular articles or what have you for our seminars, our instructor gave us a massive bibliography that it was our responsibility to go through and teach ourselves the topics. Consequently, I didn't learn anything about Victorian Britain until about three weeks ago when I started revising for our exam. Fun times. I'm not a huge fan of this system, just because I don't think that it's as effective for learning purposes, but it certainly teaches a measure of responsibility and independence that can be absent from the American system. Typical British inefficiency for you, though (I stopped being annoyed a long time ago; now I just find it amusing): the exam period lasts for six weeks. At home, I'm used to having about six days, including reading days. I don't know why it's so spread out here, but it seems like a colossal waste of time and resources, as faculty have to be paid, student residences have to be lit, housekeeping staff have to be paid... I don't know. Mind you, I'm not complaining, as it has given me more time to enjoy being in England, but staying on for five weeks to take my one exam does seem a bit ridiculous.

Anyway, onto the more exciting bits of life, basically those parts that don't involve taking tests. If I recall correctly, I was in the middle of detailing my Easter holiday adventures (referring to it as "spring break" will get you strange looks here). Well, after Pasquale sent us off with what I'm sure were lovely and eloquent wishes for good travels expressed beautifully and incomprehensibly in Italian, we got our train from Rome to Naples, which was a complete change of pace.


Naples is absolutely crazy - it's loud, gritty, colourful, teeming with humanity - people don't stop for tourists here. It's not a tourist city - people live here and have their everyday lives here, which means that it doesn't necessarily have the touristy façade that cities such as Rome or Venice have. Just compare the views of Renaissance churches in Florence or Venice to this one in Naples - there is a marked difference. In its own way, though, Naples is beautiful. Although you literally take your life in your hands every time that you cross the street. I don't know if I could stay here for any length of time, but I actually liked Naples. I know, shocking - me, the girl who nearly had a panic attack in Times Square because of the masses of people and who couldn't wait to leave London for the same reason. Just for the record, I love London more and more the longer I'm here, and I think that I could possibly live there someday. What has this year done to me?


Our main reason for going to Naples was to hit Pompeii, which is about a thirty-minute train ride from Naples. So I visited Pompeii with two archeology majors... So. Much. Archeology. So everyone knows the story - Pompeii was a rather swanky city in the Roman Empire, and then WHOOM! Mount Vesuvius erupted in 79 A.D., burying Pompeii under several metres of ash and effectively preserving it intact for hundreds of years until it was discovered in 1749, apparently by accident. Can you imagine just stumbling across something like that? "Oh hey guys, I just went for a swim and I think that I found Atlantis..." Geez.


The Temple of Apollo.


This is a collection of some of the artifacts that archeologists have unearthed in Pompeii, which has still not been fully excavated, not by a long shot. You can see one of the plaster castes of a body lying on the table there. It was a bit unsettling to see that.


For some reason I never considered that Pompeii is a city, which means that it's big, that you need a map to navigate it, and that it will take you all day to see it, although after a few hours all of the houses kind of start to blend together. It was broken up slightly by a group of Obnoxious American Tourists complaining, "This doesn't look like the Doctor Who episode..." Oh boy.


Here I am giving a dramatic poetry reading in the smaller theatre - the tourists in the background were obviously enraptured. Pompeii was quite big on entertainment - there was this theatre, a much larger theatre right next door, gladiator games, an amphitheatre, and don't even get me started on the brothels. Sarah and Caitlin didn't believe me that Pompeii was famous for being a fairly free and easy place until we got to the National Museum the next day and saw the "Cabinet of Secrets" that holds all of the pornographic artifacts from Pompeii. Fun fact: penises were considered symbols of good fortune in Pompeii, ergo they appear in lots and lots of decorations. Sorry, digression.


The House of the Faun, one of the most iconic spots in Pompeii. This house belonged to a very wealthy family and contains the famous Alexander Mosaic. I was quite bothered by the fact that the faun in question is not actually half goat. I believe that this negates his faun status.


The Alexander Mosaic, hanging in the National Museum, which we visited the next day (this was an incredibly educational trip, if I do say so myself). It's assumed that the main figure is Alexander the Great, hence the name. Clever, right?


There's Mount Vesuvius just lurking in the background, looking all innocent...


There were some amazingly well-preserved frescoes and floor mosaics in Pompeii. This is the Dionysus fresco from the House of Mysteries, which I may have referred to as the Department of Mysteries all day. Don't worry, dear readers, that has not changed this year - if there is a Harry Potter reference to be made, I will find it and make it. I was also extremely archeology-ed out by the time that we got here, so that may have been a contributing factor.

That more or less finishes our jaunt through Italy! The day after we did Pompeii we somehow managed to navigate the cramped, terrifyingly busy streets of Naples to find the National Museum using only the horrible, horrible map in my Europe guide. I'm pretty sure that whoever created that map invented some streets, because we certainly couldn't find them. It was an adventure. But we made it back to the train station and got on our way to Bari, on the other side of the country. There we met my faithful travel buddy Sarah (I know, another one), who had just flown in from her own adventures in Amsterdam, and we embarked on a ferry for Dubrovnik, Croatia! That will certainly get its own blog, as it has to be the most beautiful, incredible place that I have ever seen in my entire life. Oh my.

All that's left for me to do now is wrap things up in Norwich - I head back to the States in four days. I cannot believe that this year has come to an end. It has been the most incredible experience of my life, and I think that I'm still in denial that it's coming to a close. Now is not the time to be sad, however - there will be plenty of time for that when I'm at home being unemployed. Right now I am going to wring every drop of enjoyment from these next four days that I possibly can - carpe diem!

Little Sirs of Roma

Hello, dear readers,
I hope that you all survived the Rapture alright, but if you no longer read this blog because you've been taken up to heaven, well, I'll understand. If you've stuck around with the rest of us however, and would like to hear about my time in Rome, you've found the right place.

Our adventures in Rome began more or less as soon as we disembarked from the train. It turns out that our hotel reservation had been cancelled and no one had told us - surprise! That was pleasant. So we're in Rome, it's 10:30 on a Saturday night, and we have no place to stay. Rome is full on a Saturday night at 10:30, as we found out when we began canvassing the hotels in the area. And by canvassing I mean begging someone to give us a room. It got a little bit tense - I think that we were all envisioning sleeping in the train station and being kidnapped and sold into an international prostitution ring, and I have to say, that was not on the top of my list of things to do on holiday. So these were the thoughts that were dancing in our heads as we stumbled into yet another hotel, only to be told that they were full for the night. The concierge took pity on us, though, and called around to see if he could find a room for us. After a few disappointments he found what I believe was the only free room in all of Rome that night, and it was just down the street. He gave us directions and sent us off with the words, "The man's name is Giovanni - he's a little weird, but he's a personal friend, so you'll be okay." With this promising start, we troopd down the street to find the hotel.

Giovanni had obviously been warned that three American women were going to be heading in his direction, because he was waiting for us outside his trattoria. Giovanni is probably 5 foot 5 inches on a tall day, he's ginger, and he took Sarah's hand and started kissing it after she said, "Are you Giovanni? I am so glad to see you!" I don't make these people up. He handed us over to his buddy Pasquale, who is probably 5 foot 6 inches on a tall day and speaks no English whatsoever, but is the most delightful person in the entire city of Rome. Pasquale brought us upstairs to our room, and with the help of Sarah's Italian proceeded to show us how everything in our room worked - we're talking light switches, shower, bathroom fan, the lock on the door - the whole nine yards. Turns out that he has a daughter our age, so he took a fancy to us. He even walked us to the cashpoint so that we could get money to pay for the room, and he didn't even overcharge us outrageously, as he could have done. The next morning, he gave us free cappuccinos and lemon cake for breakfast and circled all of the attractions that we needed to see on our map, and he moved our bags to a new room that had enough beds for all of us. We shared a queen-sized bed between the three of us the first night, but we were so relieved to have a room that it didn't matter in the slightest.


Heaving HUGE sighs of relief in our teeny hotel room in Rome - thanks to Giovanni and Pasquale, what could have been an absolutely terrible situation was turned into a rather pleasant experience, and we could sleep well before a busy day of exploring as much of Rome as possible. We're also doing a nice job of representing the red, white, and blue.


Not quite what we expected to see - thankfully, we didn't try to find a room here, as we wouldn't have been able to leave!


Our day of sightseeing began properly with a trip to the Colosseum! It was SO COOL. We were just walking down the street, and then, bam! Colosseum! There were a lot of buskers here, including a gentleman dressed as a Native American who was playing "The Sound of Silence" on his panpipes all day long.


The Arch of Constantine, who was crowned emperor in York - fun fact connection to England!


Looking across the Colosseum to where the important people, such as the emperor, would have sat. The entire thing used to be covered in marble, and the seats were numbered. The games here would have lasted for three months.


When in Rome, go ahead and embarrass yourself. You only live once.


Stadium Palatinum on Palatine Hill, where the emperor used to live. He would hold private gladiator games here if he didn't feel like mixing with mere mortals at the Colosseum. It's good to be in charge.


Palatine Hill, the most important of Rome's seven hills. This is the ruins of the Domus Flavia, where there used to be a fountain. According to our guide, this was the dining room, and meals here could last up to six hours. People would just keep throwing up after each course and then they'd start again because being able to supply your guests with enough food to feed an entire continent was a sign of wealth and prestige. Today that's called a tactical chunder, I believe, to give it its technical term.


View onto the Roman Forum from Palatine Hill - no big deal.


The Temple of Romulus, one of the legendary founders of Rome. Supposedly he and his twin brother, Remus, founded the city, but Romulus killed Remus and took all of the power for himself. Nice guy. Fun fact - the doors on this temple are two thousand years old, and they still lock. Amazing.


We were wandering down the street after leaving the Forum and just happened across Trajan's Column! Alright, so we followed the map, but still, these things are just there. It's insane.


The Pantheon! It's hard to get an idea of what it looks like from this photo, though.


Inside the Pantheon - architects still don't know how the Romans constructed this ceiling, which is pretty cool. While we were there, someone let a balloon go and everyone clapped when it floated through the hole in the ceiling.


Ara Pacis, the Altar of Augustinian Peace, consecrated in 9 B.C.


Making my wish at Trevi Fountain.


The Vatican Museum, 7 a.m. We hauled ourselves out of bed at 6 in order to beat the queues here after our tour guide told us that we shouldn't even bother. Determined to prove him wrong, we beat the crowds and made it into the museum in good time. When we left, the queue stretched around almost three sides of Vatican City. Good decision, us.


Raphael's famous "School of Athens" in the Stanze di Rafaele, built for Pope Julius II in the 1510s. My tour through my art history textbook was continuing nicely.


The famous Swiss Guards at St. Peter's Basilica. I felt horribly guilty taking this picture, but it had to be done.


The altar in St. Peter's Basilica, which is absolutely gorgeous. I have to say, though, that every time I visit a famous church or cathedral like this, I am blown away by how much money the Church has.


Art History 102 continues with Bernini's plan for St. Peter's Square, which was being set up for Easter mass while we were there.


Pasquale, our favourite Roman sir.

So there it is, Rome in under 48 hours. We saw so many amazing things, and we didn't even want to kill each other by the end of it! After doing Vatican City, we stopped for a much needed gelato break (have I mentioned the gelato in Italy? So amazing) and then got our train to Napoli, where the whirlwind continued! That's for another post, though. Right now I'm struggling to a) revise for my exam on Victorian Britain and b) wrap my mind around the fact that in exactly three weeks I'll be somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean on my way back to the United States. It's a terrifying thought. I'm about to leave everything that has defined my life for the past year. I don't know exactly how much this year has changed me, but I know that it's been quite a lot, and it's very difficult to not think of Norwich as home. When I consider being back in the States, I feel as though it will be like going to a foreign country again - I'm going to have to get used to the American way of living again. Part of me is getting more and more excited, but the majority of me just wants to stay here.

Florence in a Day? Allons-y!

Dear Reader,

I married him. (Just kidding. But gold star for you if you got the Jane Eyre reference!) Our day in Florence did not involve me getting married, but it did involve lots of beautiful art and architecture - it was very much like taking the first few weeks of art history again, except I was seeing everything in real life. Anyway, we woke up to a beautiful, sunny morning in Florence and began our day's adventures at a market, where we got bread and apples for almost no money. We ate on the steps of the Basilica San Lorenzo, watching the tour groups and the astonishing number of couples who stopped to make out in the middle of the street. Discretion didn't appear to be a major concern in Italy. Following our breakfast of champions, we set off to take in all of Florence that we possibly could before our train that evening.


We began at the Basilica di Santa Maria del Fiore, which was completed in 1436 when Filippo Brunelleschi worked out how to build the beautiful dome, which was an engineering marvel at the time. It was the highest dome built at that time, and used no external buttresses for support, ergo Brunelleschi = wizard.


Across the square is the Florence Baptistry, with Lorenzo Ghiberti's famous Gates of Paradise. He won the contract to carve the door panels with biblical scenes after his panel depicting the sacrifice of Isaac beat Brunelleschi's in a competition.


Close-up of the Gates of Paradise - most of the panels depict scenes of Christ's life.


Ta da! Michelangelo's "David." This is only a replica, but it stands where the original used to be in Piazza della Signoria. It is very impressive in real life, and it is enormous!

This is actually more or less where my photos of Florence run out, because we spent the rest of the day queuing to get into the Uffizi, the massive art museum. We queued for at least two hours, but it was worth it - it was a beautiful day, we still had lots to catch up on, the area around the Uffizi was gorgeous, and there were lots and lots of buskers there to take advantage of tourists who were not travelling on student budgets. We found out that it was actually the tail end of Culture Week, which meant free admission to the museum, so that was especially awesome. We spent the afternoon admiring works by Giotto, Botticelli, Raphael, da Vinci, Michelangelo - basically any famous Italian Renaissance artist. I am so glad that I decided to take art history last year, because I would have had no appreciation for what I was seeing otherwise. I was surprised at how many families with very young children were in the museum, as well. I admire the parents for travelling with such young children, but part of me wonders what the point was - they're travelling through these incredible places, but the kids aren't going to remember much, if anything at all, and something tells me that most of the kids that we saw didn't have a keen appreciation for Renaissance art. Sarah, Caitlin, and I decided that this was probably the most opportune time to take a trip like this - we have the time, we have the energy, but we also have the educational background to appeciate what we are seeing in these beautiful places. Please don't read that last sentence as me being pretentious - I don't mean to. But this year has made me realize how little appeciation I had for the amazing places that I visited when I was in Europe four years ago because I didn't bother to educate myself, and I really regret that. Hence my obsession with historical information and walking tours.

So that was Florence - we managed to see most of the sites on our list in under 24 hours, which I think is pretty impressive. It seemed like a beautiful city, and I would have liked to see more, but Rome was calling. We grabbed sandwiches and caught our train to the Eternal City, but our adventures for the day were certainly not over. More on that in my next post.

The Whirlwind Begins: Venice

Dear Grandpa (and anyone else who happens to stumble across this),

I know that I have been most remiss in updating about my travel adventures lately, of which there have been many, so I am going to try to remedy that by beginning the narrative of my spring break adventures. I had the fantastic opportunity to take a once in a lifetime trip through Italy and Croatia with Sarah and Caitlin, two of my housemates from Dickinson, and it was incredible. We hit eight cities in two countries over ten days, so we were just on the move all of the time. We got to see so many amazing things and just had a blast the entire time.

Sarah and Caitlin had been travelling for almost four weeks already, so I was meeting them in Florence on Friday evening, after having a day in Venice. I booked a flight from London bright and early - 6:30 a.m.! My odyssey therefore began very late on Thursday night, when I caught the midnight thirty coach from Norwich to Stansted Airport in London. This was the first time that I had ever done any significant travelling by myself, and I was really nervous about it, actually - it's one thing to go with friends, but when you're flying from one country where you don't really live to another country where you definitely don't live and don't even speak the language, then spending the entire day by yourself in that country before figuring out the train schedule in order to meet your friends in a different city entirely, it's a little bit daunting. And have I mentioned that I'm a terrible flyer? So it was with some anxiety that I got on the coach, which turned out to be the loneliest ride of my life. But I made it to Stansted around 4 a.m., when the airport was just opening, and eventually made it onto my flight. If you've never waited in a queu for Ryanair at 4:00 in the morning, surrounded by grumpy travellers who are complaining about luggage restrictions and the fact that there is only one person checking passports for the massive queu of people trying to catch planes, you should - it builds character. My plan to deprive myself of sleep so that I would be too tired to be anxious on the flight worked - I fell asleep about half way through and woke up just as we were passing over the Italian Alps, which were absolutely beautiful. I think that's when I knew I would be okay: I could do this. After that I started feeling rather pleased with myself.

The feeling continued when we landed and it was sunny and warm, even at 9:30 in the morning. All thoughts of sleep vanished in an instant as excitement overtook anxiety. I struck up an acquaintance on the bus from the airport into Venice, basically because I kept asking the guy sitting next to me all sorts of deep and meaningful questions, such as, "Is this seat taken?" and "This is going to Venice, right?" It didn't take long for me to notice his decided lack of accent, so I asked him where he was from, and the ensuing conversation went something like this:
me: "Where are you from?"
Lorenzo: "California. What about you?" (Strange but true: every American you meet abroad is from either California or Connecticut.)
me: "Connecticut (see?). So are you here on holiday, then?"
L: "Well, I'm meeting my parents here tomorrow to travel with them, but I study abroad in England."
me: "Oh, me too! Where do you study?"
L: It's this kind of random city called Norwich."
me: *stares*

Travel Buddy Lorenzo, as he shall henceforward be known, and I wound up spending most of the day together, as neither of us had a real plan of attack for the day, and it was much nicer than spending the day alone. We decided to just wander the streets in the general direction of the Piazza San Marco and see what we could find. This turned out to be a great plan, because Venice's streets are absolutely impossible to navigate. They are narrow, twisting, and not marked on any maps. Some end abruptly in canals, some narrow down into nothingness, some go in a square, so it's easier to not even try to follow any kind of course. The brilliant thing that Venice has done, however, realizing that this poses something of a problem for tourists and anyone who has not lived in the city for at least five years, is to put up yellow signs every few hundred feet that point you in the direction of the major attractions, such as the Piazza San Marco, Ponte de Rialto, the train station, etc. It's a great system - as long as you generally follow these signs, you'll get where you want to go, but you'll get to explore the maze of Venetian side streets as you go. And Venice's streets are worth exploring. Everywhere you turn looks like a postcard, and there are gorgeous buildings just hidden away.


This was our first proper view of Venice as we crossed the Ponte Scalzi from the train station, which is in the westernmost bit of the city. The views kept getting better, believe it or not. Everything that I remembered about how beautiful Venice is from four years ago has definitely held true.


Obligatory tourist photo, courtesy of Travel Buddy Lorenzo.


Scuola Grande San Giovanni Evangelista, one of the gorgeous buildings that we literally stumbled upon after wandering in circles for about ten minutes trying to figure out how to keep walking without having to go for a swim in one of the canals.


The beautiful Ponte de Rialto over the Grand Canal.


The beautiful view down the Grand Canal from the beautiful Ponte de Rialto - so much beautiful.


Piazza San Marco - you can see the Basilica di San Marco in the centre of the shot, and then the campanille (bell tower) on the right.


Some of the amazing ceiling mosaics in the Basilica - the entire building looked like this, but no photographs were allowed inside.


The courtyard of the Palazzo Ducale, or the Doge's Palace, home to the Doge and all of the governing bodies of Venice during the Venetian Empire. Incidentally, it is also home to the largest oil painting in the world, and to the famous Bridge of Sighs, which was unfortunately being renovated while I was there, so it was surrounded by bright blue tarp.


Gondola ride, anyone?

Travel Buddy Lorenzo and I hung around the Piazza San Marco for a while - we got gelato for lunch and sat in the sun, talking, watching the other tourists, and generally just enjoying the fact that we were in Venice. He went on to continue exploring after lunch while I stayed in the Piazza to knock off some touristy things before I had to leave. A friend had recommended the Doge's Palace, so I wandered through all of the various chambers of the complicated Venetian government. It was absolutely beautiful, and by the time that I was finished there it was high time to meander my way back to the train station. So, following the amazingly helpful yellow signs (you know, England, you should really take note here, given your own issues with clear signage), I trotted my way back across the city, enjoying the gorgeous views all the way. I've only explored Venice on the very surface - my total time there over two visits probably amounts to about twelve hours - but as far as first impressions go, it is one of my favourite cities. It's just so beautiful and has so much character. So, so worth a visit, and a return visit. I'm really glad that I didn't cut that part of my trip out in order to meet Sarah and Caitlin earlier, because it was the perfect start to my trip. And I proved to myself that I can travel on my own - I can get myself from A to B without any major catastrophes, I can make friends with fellow travellers, and I can have one of the best days in my recent memory.

I made it to the station in plenty of time to catch my train to Firenze (Florence - I was confused, too). I wish that I could tell you about the beautiful Italian countryside that we passed through, but I fell asleep as soon as the train started moving, and woke up just as we were coming into Florence. Sarah and Caitlin met me at the train station, and we spent the rest of the evening catching up on life and on sleep, which was much needed as we were going to explore Florence the next day!

One Hell of a Week

A close reading of the title will reveal at least two possible interpretations: 1) that the week has been hell because I have been doing nothing except writing three large and important papers (true), and 2) that it has been an astonishing week in terms of world events (also true). I had to do a triple-take on Monday morning when I was perusing the BBC headlines online and saw that Osama bin Laden had been killed. Even after I had read the news article properly, it didn't sink in. Ten years brought to a conclusion in a single night - it's unreal.

As good liberal arts students engaging the world, Travel Buddy Jesse (just arrived to Norwich from a semester in India) and I discussed our feelings concerning bin Laden's death over pancakes and tea (I'm a converted tea-drinker now). I was still working on absorbing the news, but I was not feeling any of the wild enthusiasm that seemed to be buzzing around Facebook. My news feed had exploded with people celebrating bin Laden's death - Dickinson seems to have gone absolutely mad, and judging from the YouTube videos and the campus-wide emails following Sunday night, things got out of hand. I understand that the actions of a few students who acted out inappropriately have reflected negatively on a much larger number of students who maintained their self-control and had more thoughtful reactions. But the drunken revelries and swinging from lamp posts that have popped up on YouTube, and especially the slandering of the ROTC program, are extremely disappointing. We are so much better than that Dickinson, as we proved earlier this semester when we succeeded in forcing the administration to review the school's sexual assault policy. After being removed from campus for a year, hearing about behaviour like this is upsetting.

And it's not just Dickinson - that's just close to home. The fact that people were gathered in the streets chanting, "USA! USA!" seems really disturbing to me. This is not the Olympics - it is the death of a person. Again, I understand that there is an entire spectrum of reactions, and the actions of people on the news do not represent most of the nation. I also understand that this person was the most wanted man in the world, that he masterminded attacks that killed thousands of people and broke apart thousands of families, for no other reason than his hatred of America. But to celebrate his death in such a loud, enthusiastic fashion strikes me as inappropriate.

First of all, bin Laden's death does not mean that our problems with terrorist groups are going to come to an end. I am not trying to diminish the military's accomplishment in any way, but I don't know how much this is going to change the War on Terror. The primary figurehead is dead, yes, but just a few days before bin Laden was killed the Taliban announced their spring offensive, and now the entire world is on alert for retaliatory attacks. The issues that bin Laden stood for still exitst. Secondly, I see the death of Osama bin Laden not so much as a victory but as a signal of a failure to reach any kind of cross-cultural understanding. It was a failure on the parts of both groups to step out of a narrow mindset in order to understand the persepective of the other side, and both sides resorted to violence. The past ten years have perpetuated dangerous stereotypes both about Americans and about Muslims. We saw this when we visited a mosque in London at the beginning of our time here - the man who was supposed to be talking with us assumed our complete ignorance of Islam, and we were unable to enter into any kind of fruitful dialogue. There is still so much work to do, and I am worried that the rowdy celebrations that have graced the news in the past few days are going to reflect badly on American culture. After all, what does it say about us that we meet the news of a death with chants and confetti?

This question comes partly from the fact that I've spent the past nine months living in a country that, although it tolerates Americans, seems to think that we're all crass, loud, and either like former President George Bush or the cast of Jersey Shore. One of my friends derives great joy from posting videos of stupid Americans on my Facebook wall (think Jay Walking, then multiply it). During the first few weeks of my time here, one of my flatmates (who is now a wonderful friend) said to me, "Wow, so not all Americans are stupid, then." I was both a little bit flattered and a lot a bit disturbed, and it made me reconsider the image that America projects to the rest of the world: we are the biggest, baddest kid on the playground when it comes to international politics, and then we broadcast trashy shows such as Jersey Shore or The Real Housewives of No One Actually Cares Where . No wonder the rest of the world has such a warped view of us.

The rest of the inspiration comes from my recent musings on various codes of conduct. I've been working on a paper arguing that Sir Thomas Malory's canonical text Le Morte d'Arthur is actually a critique of King Arthur for failing to establish a successful code of behaviour for the Round Table, eventually leading to its ruin. (Yes, I reference King Arthur when I discuss current affairs. He's a legendary hero - part of his role is to act as a vehicle for modern ideals and anxieties. And yes, that is the thesis of another one of the papers that I'm working on, although that one is about Robin Hood.) Arthur in Malory's text resorts to violence, as well - "Might over Right," as it is sometimes referred to. Other medieval texts, especially romances, also criticize this approach and advocate instead the code of "Right over Might." I think that this breakdown applies equally well to America - we seem to be a nation of Might over Right, and historically that is not sustainable.

I do not want to sound un-American, and I really do hope that Osama bin Laden's death can bring some peace to those families who lost loved ones in the September 11 attacks. But being removed from the country for so long has made me think a lot about America's global image, and I do not necessarily like what I have found. In Britain, there was no rioting or crazy celebrating at the news of bin Laden's death (at least, not that made the national news). Even this country's latest day of celebration, the Royal Wedding, was met with a proper measure of dignified excitement. It was a big deal. A really Big Deal. But nothing got out of hand, and everyone conducted themselves well - as the commentators on the BBC live coverage said, it was a great day to be British. Part of this was the famous British reserve that is definitely still present in the Royal Family even if it is decreasing elsewhere - Kate Middleton was actually praised for her reserve throughout her relationship with Prince William - but part of it is common sense, I believe, and the realization that just because people are celebrating does not mean that they have to make complete idiots of themselves. After all, the entire world was watching. While I think that the pomp, circumstance, and solemnity that surrounded the Royal Wedding was a bit much, I think that there is a valuable lesson to be learned about public conduct and public image.

I'm sorry if I'm sounding like an ex-patriot. There are a number of things that I value about America - our Constitution, our education system, our efficiency, our ability to deal with snow quickly and effectively, our diversity as a nation - but part of the whole study abroad experience is supposed to be gaining a better awareness of your own country and how it has affected you. I am undeniably an American - my accent says so, my passport says so, my world view says so. I grew up as an American, and it is where I come from both physically and philosophically. It influences the way that I see the world and the preconceptions that I have, but I have realized this year that it does not have to define me. This really dawned on me when I arrived at London Stansted Airport from Croatia. The customs officer asked me what I was doing in England, stamped my visa, and said, "Welcome back" as he handed me my passport emblazoned with the gold eagle on the front, declaring me "American! American!" He acknowledged that this was not my only defining characteristic, however - he saw that I was a student, a traveller, someone out to see the world, and he was welcoming me back to the place that I have called home for the past nine months. I can change the way that I think about the world, I can change where I am going from here. America is my past and it influences my present and will continue to influence my future, but it does not dominate that future. I can disagree with my country, and I do not always have to be proud of it.

Alright, I'm done for now, promise. My next update will follow soon - my papers are due in on Monday. I just gave myself a break today because I finished all of my drafts (huzzah!!!!). But I'll post about happier things next time, like Venice!

'You Give Me Fever'

Dear readers,
I am writing to you from a land once again paralyzed (this seems to happen to England quite a bit, actually, which is concerning), this time not by any natural phenomenon, but by a much happier occasion - the Royal Wedding. Yes, Prince William and Kate Middleton are finally tying the knot tomorrow morning at Westminster Abbey, and the country is caught up in wedding fever. Case in point: when I walked into the Learning Department at Norwich Castle this morning, there were William and Kate paper dolls on the table, along with a commemorative mug and postcard. Granted, these had been purchased as gag gifts, but the frightening part is that they are manufactured at all. All of the storefronts in Norwich are displaying an unusally high number of Union Jacks, as well as various wedding paraphernalia, and the newspapers seem to be ignoring actual news stories in favour of publishing the seating plan for the wedding. This is highly unusual for England, as such displays of enthusiasm and patriotism are generally not done here. It's funny - the English are infamous for not exhibiting a great deal of emotion (which I have found to be largely untrue on an individual level, at least among the younger generation) except when it comes to the Royal Family. Princess Diana inspired massive public affection even before her death, and many analysts of popular culture point to her funeral as the watershed moment for the breakdown of the traditional stiff upper lip. Check out the BBC's take on the issue here: . Now people are getting uncharacteristically excited for the wedding between William and Kate, to the point where there are people camping out on the Royal Mall in London in order to catch a glimpse of the royal couple on their way to Westminster Abbey tomorrow morning. You'll be happy to know, I'm sure, that Prince William has just paid them an impromptu visit.
The wedding has actually done some good in giving people something positive to focus on, rather than the fact that the rest of the world seems to be going to hell through natural disasters or political upheavals, and according to my supervisors at the Castle (except for the one who is boycotting the wedding), it has brought the nation together. I'm just amazed by the media circus surrounding the event. Maybe amazed isn't the right word - coming from such a huge celebrity culture, I'm not surprised by the amount of attention that the wedding has received, and I'm glad that it's focused on the Royal Family instead of say, a reality television star who has no claim to fame, but whom the American media seem to love anyway (Jersey Shore cast, I'm looking at you). It's just astounding how invested people can become in someone else's life - it's as if the obsessive tendencies of middle school girls have enveloped the nation. If I was Kate Middleton, I would be absolutely terrified. For the record, though, she seems to be bearing everything extremely well, and there is a very high public opinion of her. So I wish William and Kate all of the happiness in the world, as well as some well-earned moments of privacy together to celebrate their marriage.
I have not been spending my entire holiday following the Royal Wedding, however. In fact, today is the first day that I've really thought very much about it. I have been busy travelling and working on papers. Yes, while the rest of the country is caught up in wedding fever, I am caught up in paper-writing fever, which is slightly less enjoyable. I'm sure that you don't want to hear about the papers (and I don't want to think about them, frankly), but I don't have time to do a proper update on my travels (which were amazing), so I will give you a teaser for now. It might be my latest column for The Dickinsonian, but hey, that's the best that I've got right now. More to follow after my papers are finished in about a week and a half!
Twenty-four hours before writing this column, I was in an airport in Zadar, Croatia waiting for my flight back to London after an amazing ten-day trip through Italy and Croatia. It was one of those trips that I never, ever saw myself taking – sure, it would be nice to see Rome and maybe soak up some sun by the Adriatic Sea, but things that cool and exciting are not supposed to happen to people like me. They are for glamourous people who are not constrained by a student budget and who do not have pasty white skin that burns to a crisp the instant they step into the sun. When the opportunity for such a spring break trip presented itself, however, I grabbed it immediately, hoping that reality would not catch up with me until much later. My travel buddies, three fellow Dickinsonians, and I had an amazing time and we got to see and do so many incredible things. We also learned quite a bit, and I am going to share some of the most important points that we picked up.
1. It is possible to eat well in Italy on a student budget. Markets are especially good in the heroic quest to spend as little money on food as possible – we would buy a loaf of bread and apples for breakfast, which cost us about two euro in total. Asking tour guides or hostel-owners for recommendations is also a good plan, as they can point you in the direction of restaurants that serve good food at reasonable prices.
2. Ask for student discounts. Many places do not advertise these discounts as they want take both your wallet and your soul from you, but flashing a university ID can work wonders. At the Vatican Museum we got student tickets for half of the listed price, leaving us with plenty of gelato money for that afternoon.
3. Speaking of gelato, it is perfectly acceptable to have gelato for lunch six out of ten days when you are travelling.
4. Those language classes that you had to take to fill a distribution requirement might someday save you from having to spend the night on the streets of Rome and being kidnapped to work in an international prostitution ring (yes, I saw Taken). After our hotel reservation was cancelled without prior notice in Rome, my friend used her Dickinson language skills to explain our plight to a delightful little Italian hotel-owner named Pasquale who spoke no English whatsoever. He took pity on us, found us a room for two nights, pointed out all of the sites to see on our map, and gave us free breakfast and cappuccinos in the morning. At the end of our stay, he told us that he felt like he was saying goodbye to his babies (at least, that’s what Sarah told me he said.) In such a situation, it is appropriate to email your language professor and thank her profusely.
5. British people drink very weak coffee – our first Italian cappuccinos came as a great surprise.
6. Sometimes it pays to look like a tourist and follow the tips in a travel book. After queuing (that’s British for standing in line) for two hours at the Uffizi in Florence, we decided to heed the warnings in Let’s Go Europe! and wake up early to beat the lines at the Vatican Museum. After waking up at 6 a.m. we arrived before the masses of tourists and got right into the museum – by noon the lines were stretched half way around Vatican City.
7. Waking up early in general, although painful, is worth it. Apart from thwarting queues, you might just get to watch the sun rise over Croatia while taking a ferry to an island with white pebble beaches surrounded by blue mountains and turquoise waters. It is in the realm of possibilities.
8. Go to Croatia. Seriously.