6/8/12: A Glimpse of Heaven

I woke with a burst of adrenaline. My first adventure beyond Florence was set to begin within the hour. Brittney, Allie, and I were headed to Chianti, a small town in Tuscany, for a day filled with horseback riding and wine tasting. We had booked the excursion through a student travel agency called Florence for Fun, an organization that we would utilize frequently during our stay in Florence. I could hardly wait to see with my own eyes a glimpse of the Italian countryside. 

We met our tour leader near the train station. The first group had already departed, leaving our trio with two Australian students, a young couple, and another woman. We boarded the van and headed out into the unknown. Our guide was extremely friendly and one of the most outgoing people I have ever met. He was funny, spontaneous, an erratic driver, and in love with American pop music. Having her IPOD handy, he deemed my roommate DJ Allie, "one nation one station," placing her officially in charge of tunes for the trip. Speeding and weaving down the Tuscan highways, he decided that we were going to stop at San Giminiano just for fun. After seeing the view from the hilltop city, we were grateful for the suggestion.

San Giminiano 

The town was surrounded by a thick stone wall, reminding me of Medieval fortress cities. The interior, also covered in stone from ceiling to floor, was beautifully decorated with flags and flowers at each turn. The group wandered throughout the town, exploring small family owned shops. Many sold wine, others promoting pasta or handmade goods. Our guide, sensing our love for food, brought us to the Pluripremiata Gelataria, winner of the world's best gelato in 2006 and 2008. My mouth watered; my first taste of gelato would literally be famous. For a few euros, we tasted a scoop of heaven. While we walked around, our guide borrowed our cameras to capture some eating action shots. On our way out, he showed us the structure that had been the original inspiration for the Twin Towers in NYC. It was a little sad seeing those towers still erected while the buildings in New York had been destroyed over a decade ago.

Ready for horseback riding!

Our next stop was the horseback riding farm in the countryside. With one look at Allie's Chuck Taylor's and my flats, the owner, a worldly Italian man, shook his head. We were going to be forced to change shoes. He lead us to a room filled with helmets, boots, etc. where he selected short boots for us to put on instead. He fitted us with helmets, next, completing our stylish looks to mount the horses. Particular in every way, the owner matched us each with certain horses, then revealing that the each horse held a certain spot in the line. Mine would be directly behind the owner's, with Allie behind me. Brittney would be further back in the line, but we would all be riding the same path together. 
After a short dose of rain, it was time to mount the horses, my least favorite part of the general horseback riding experience. My biggest fear of life is falling, making getting on a horse a bit of an insecurity. When it was my turn, I noticed that the saddle was missing the horn in the center. How was I going to hoist myself up or hold on during the ride? Somehow I managed to get on the horse, clutching the edge of the saddle as much as possible. In order to stay there, however, I was forced to cling tightly for the entire journey. 
We began trotting along a path through the farm, viewing the rolling pastures and the unending views of fields. I was a bit disappointed at first, wanting to see the spectacular views that I had only heard about or seen in films. Finally, after riding up a hill and around a bend, the skyline opened to the perfect vision of Tuscany that I had always hoped to see. Miles and miles of perfect flower rows grounded the scene to reality. Blue skies, rolling hills, and stone homes spread before me as far as the eye could see. It was unbelievable. Heaven has to look like Tuscany.
On the journey back to the stables, we descended the steep hill. I felt my horse struggle a bit to keep balance. All of a sudden, my horse stumbled. I caught myself precariously, a bit startled. Within seconds I heard Allie's horse trip in the same spot. I whipped around to see her tumble head first over the head of the horse. For a moment I could not breathe, not knowing what to do. I watched her sit up, a little shaken, but okay. The owner dismounted and came over to her, helping her up. He then inspected the horse, paying her much more attention than he had Allie. He finally turned to her again and gestured for her to get back on the horse. I was a little surprised that he would not just allow her to walk the rest of the way after falling. Nonetheless, she bravely got back on the horse and finished the ride. 

Wine Tasting

When we returned to the stables, 
it was easier for me to see that Allie was truly not injured. With that snag behind us, we were taken to Monteriggioni for lunch and wine tasting. We entered a larger restaurant, spacious for Italian standards, and sat down with the group. Lunch was included within the price of the day, so we were a bit unsure what to expect. After a while, the waiters brought out many small dishes, containing bread and meats. Ravenous, we demolished the plates within minutes, hoping that we would be served a second course. At last, we were each given a plate containing two types of pasta. The sauce was immensely flavorful and unique, satisfying my hungry stomach. Upon the end of our luncheon, we migrated to the basement of the winery next door. The woman who administered the wine tasting knew quite a bit about the origins of each wine, telling us precisely where each had been created. Unfortunately, all of them were much to dry and bitter for my taste, leaving Brittney to swallow most of my glasses. However, the experience was rather enjoyable, nonetheless. 


MAKE IT COUNT - R.M.S.

Torn Surprises

I slept in the next day, trying to recover from my journey across the Atlantic. I woke up feeling refreshed, but I still felt a bit sluggish at points during the day. After an egg and cheese omelet, Brittney, Allie, and I headed out of the apartment to begin the day. Our first stop was Florence for Fun, a sort of student travel agency that offers discounted trips across Europe. I signed up for the first excursion that would occur the following day: horseback riding and wine tasting in Chianti, an area in Tuscany. I had not been horseback riding in ages, making me anxious to get on a horse again. I could not believe that I would actually be able to go on an adventure just a mere few days after my arrival!

THE OUTDOOR INTERIOR
IN THE FLORENTINE TRAIN STATION

Brittney and Allie had been planning a trip to Cinque Terre, a group of five coastal towns, for the upcoming Saturday. With no official trips offered through Florence for Fun, we decided to venture out on our own. We headed across the city to the train station in order to purchase tickets. Chaotic and crowded, the Florentine train station was half inside and out. The areas with waiting passengers were covered by the structure, leaving the trains exposed to the Italian sun. It was a beautiful building, reminding me of how natural light can greatly impact an interior. 

We waited in line, nervous to speak with the teller. Would we be able to effectively communicate and buy our tickets? When we reached the window, we found that the representative did speak a small amount of English. Relieved, we informed him of our plans and he proceeded to look up trains. Unfortunately, he got up from his position repeatedly without any explanation. We were often left alone at the window, wondering if we would ever get our tickets. Finally, the teller seemed satisfied enough to remain speaking with us. After a strained twenty minutes, we were able to purchase tickets that allowed us to leave early in the morning and return to Florence before midnight. After the most important issues had been resolved, the three of us browsed the shops near the station together. Many of the items were rather expensive and those that were affordable were not unique to Italy. Several of the items we admired could be found in America, making a purchase here a waste of money at an escalated price. When we had neared the end of the row of shops, Brittney received a phone call. "It's Accademia!" she exclaimed. "Your suitcase came!"

Ecstatic, we made our way to the university. Unfortunately, when I finally saw my bag, I found it in a deteriorated condition. Many scrapes slashed the filthy front to complement the decently sized rip in the side. I was a little shocked, praying that nothing had fallen out in the process. Nevertheless, it was whole enough to transport, so we carried the bag down the spiral stairs to the outdoors.

Now remember that the walk from my apartment to Accademia is about twenty minutes on cobblestone streets. I would be forced to drag my suitcase along the entire path in order to retrieve my things. The bag was heavy, testing my strength as I guided the bag behind me on the narrow sidewalks. Despite the physical stress, I was able to make it to the apartment without stopping. My roommates were kind enough to help me carry the bag up the stairs.

After such an exhausting journey, I retired to the apartment for the night. We had to rise fairly early the next day to meet our guide for Chianti, and I hoped to start my first adventure with a full night's sleep.

Keep it Clean

When I stepped out of the cab onto the cobblestone street, I looked around, absorbing everything I could from the buildings around me. I was so caught up in the scenery that I almost bumped into an older woman who was heading in the direction of my apartment. I followed her, hoping she was a resident of the same building so that I would not be forced to wait outside in the street. As she unlocked the door of my apartment building, she turned around to face me. Excitement caught her eyes as she began to speak enthusiastically. . . in fluent Italian. She hugged me eagerly and I heard one word that I recognized completely: Rachele, my name in Italian. This had to be my landlady, Norma. It was a miracle she knew who I was when she had never even seen a picture of me. Nonetheless, she ushered me inside. We climbed the stairs together as she continued to speak in Italian, confusing me entirely. I could not understand a word she was saying.

We came to a door a few levels up, but it was unlike any residential door I had ever seen. It was identical to its rectangular form, but the paneling was true wood, not a typical composite of plywood as in the United States. The centralized handle was large. Norma pulled forth a beautiful antique key and opened the door. One panel swung inward, allowing one to remain in place. I felt like it was a secret passage at J.K. Rowling's Hogwarts.
When we entered, I was told the door to my immediate left was my bedroom. I was not to have a roommate, but a space to myself. I entered, taking note of a desk, wardrobe, dresser, and a gorgeous window that hinted at Juliet's balcony. However, instead of a bed, there was a tall ladder stretching up to the beamed ceiling. As I climbed, I realized that my bed was a loft. I could not believe my luck; I had always wanted to live in a space like that.
I returned to the kitchen, where I met my first two roommates. Brittney and Allie had been there for at least a week and knew Florence well. They had planned several trips around Italy already and graciously invited me to come along. I was thankful that I had sweet roommates who were also interested in traveling. I had been worried that I would not have anyone to travel around with. As we chatted, Norma continued to speak in Italian, but I discovered that neither Brittney or Allie could understand her either. I felt a tad less guilty that I had not learned the language beforehand.
Norma's son Paolo arrived to translate for her and I received the generic welcome to the apartment, including do's and don't's, keep things clean, do not make too much noise, clean up after yourself, keep things clean, take care of the apartment, KEEP THINGS CLEAN. I realized that Norma was an Italian from the elder generation, where family and home cleanliness are of the upmost importance.

PONTE ALLE GRAZIE! -
ON THE WAY TO ACCADEMIA ITALIANA

Once I had settled in, Brittney, Allie, and I headed over to Accademia Italiana to figure out our schedules and speak with them about my lost luggage. The twenty minute walk was breathtakingly beautiful. We passed several shops and restaurants, ending at a beautiful array of bridges over the river that reminded me of Pittsburgh (though much more beautiful). We crossed Ponte Vecchio and arrived at the university. Down a red carpet and up a spiral staircase, we met our correspondences for the past few months. Denise and Francesca were even more beautiful in person and could not have been more helpful. We received our class schedules. I learned I had a product design studio on Mondays and Wednesdays from 9:30 a.m. until 1:30 p.m., while on Tuesdays and Thursdays I had an architectural history course from 9:30 a.m. until 12:30 p.m. I was thrilled not to have classes on Fridays, granting me an extra day of travel. We spoke about my luggage situation, as well. Denise called the airline and spoke with them on my behalf. Unfortunately, my luggage had not yet been located. Denise arranged for my bag to be delivered to the school, taking Brittney's phone number for a means of immediate contact. I felt almost desperate to receive my bag. How was I supposed to adjust when all my things were missing?
After grabbing a slice of piping hot pizza, we returned to the apartment, giving me time for a much needed nap. When I awoke, I decided that I would venture myself to a local grocery store. Billa was only about two blocks away. I struggled a bit to read the food labels, but I settled on a few basic items and was shocked to see that my bill had only amounted to about 23 euros ($28). I had anticipated a much higher bill for groceries each week, so I was pleasantly surprised. 
After my first experience on my own, Brittney accompanied me to H&M, a cheaper store that we recognized from America, in order for me to pick up a few inexpensive items to hold me over until my luggage arrived. Unfortunately, we found the store ten minutes before it was due to close. Everything I needed was on the bottom or above floors, leaving me to make due with the first. I had five minutes to grab a few things and get in the check-out line. Luckily, everything I selected fit me well. 

HOMEMADE RAVIOLI! :)

When we finally got home, I made my first home-cooked meal: ravioli. I was rather impressed with myself for doing so well with a gas stove. It was, in fact, delicious, but I wished I had thought to buy spices in order to make the dish more flavorful. The sauce I had selected was just okay, but I did not do too bad for my first try.
Overall, my first day in Florence was quite the whirlwind, but I absolutely love it. Once my luggage comes, I am sure that I will be truly having the time of my life.


MAKE IT COUNT - R.M.S.

De Gaulle & Friends

My flight schedule seemed even more ominous the morning I was due to begin my travels. I was to leave from Pittsburgh at 12:00 p.m. in order to catch a connecting flight in Atlanta at 3:20 p.m. My flight across the Atlantic lead me to Charles de Gaulle in Paris by 5:45 a.m. , followed by my arrival in Florence at about 9:30 a.m. Traveling usually seems rather ordinary to me, filled with dull moments and sleeping with your eyes open, but this trip was unique. Perhaps one feels a little different when she realizes her life is about to change.

FROM THE
PLANE WINDOW

                                                                My flight from Pittsburgh to Atlanta would be a typical journey with little turbulence or issue. As the plane rolled towards the runway, I found myself smiling as my eyes glistened with tears. The smile, I realized, had been one of the most genuine feelings of happiness that I had ever felt. I vowed to myself then and there that this trip would be a trip of honesty, with no exaggeration or stretching the truth to make my experience sound perfect. I was on a journey to rediscover myself, learn as much as I could, and return to the States as a better person. 

I was thankful to have the window seat, brimming with sunlight and a window to lean on. I slept on and off during the flight, thinking about what would be in store for me within a mere few hours. It's funny to actually begin an abroad experience when you have been planning and waiting for it for nine months. 

A PERFECT INFLIGHT MEAL

At the Atlanta airport, I had little trouble finding my connecting flight. I boarded the plane before many of the passengers in my section, giving me time to get situated in my window seat. I felt proud to be so prepared this time, since the last trip had been a little hectic to find room for my carry-on in the overhead. Within a few minutes, however, my seating companion arrived. He asked me kindly to switch seats with another woman so that he could sit next to his wife. I hesitantly agreed, and, as fortune would have it, it was one of the best decisions I could have made. My new traveling partner was a beautiful woman from India, traveling from Atlanta to visit her husband in the south of France. We struck up a nice conversation, and I realized that her beauty extended to her heart within. She seemed just as excited as I was for me to study abroad, encouraging me to experience every bit that I could (safely of course). It was like I was having a conversation with a worldly mother, and I greatly appreciated her advice and support. Thanks to her calm composure and attitude, my first nine hour flight held no anxiety. The flight time passed rather quickly, filled with a decent meal, much needed sleep, and talking with my new friend. At our arrival in Paris, the woman hugged me and wished me luck. She made the first interaction on my trip such a wonderful moment. 

Once I was on my own at Charles de Gaulle, I realized I was out of my element. The airport was HUGE, absolutely the biggest I have ever been to. It took me nearly forty five minutes to find my terminal, which was a fifteen minute bus ride away! It seems that the airport is not one building, but several, one for each terminal, in fact. I wish I had been more prepared, but I made it to my flight in time. One bonus about being at the French airport was being able to hone my French skills a bit from my high school days. I realized that I had learned much more than I had thought.

The flight to Florence passed by quickly. Before I knew it I had arrived in my new home, excited and afraid. It was no issue finding baggage claim since the airport was so small. Unfortunately, my bag was not with the other luggage from the plane. I had had a feeling in the pit of my stomach that this tragic event would occur since I was traveling on so many flights. I marched up to the Lost and Found desk and spoke with the receptionist (luckily an English speaker). She said that the bag would be there by 3:30 p.m. (currently 9:30 a.m.), meaning that I would have to take a cab back to the airport in the afternoon in order to pick it up, which is rather expensive. My face lit up when she said it could be delivered to my apartment. However, when she realized I did not have a phone at the apartment, she changed her mind, saying that she needed the number to deliver my bag. No matter how much I pleaded, she would not budge. I was going to lose 75 euros on cabs just in my first day. I was not off to a good start.

I caught a taxi at the airport to my apartment. The drive into downtown was through a worser area, worrying me at first that Florence may not be as safe as I had previously thought. Nevertheless, when we crossed the bridge into downtown, everything changed. The beautiful structures and architecture that I had always envisioned lined the streets as far as the eye could see. Gardens, sunshine, rivers, everything and anything you might find in heaven glittered the "vias". I was dropped off at my apartment. My new home stood before me like a hidden gem on the cobblestone streets.


MAKE IT COUNT - R.M.S.

Farewells and Peanut Butter

Well, after months of anticipation, the day of my flight has finally arrived. Realizing that in a matter of hours I will begin my journey seems surreal. I have never been more excited in my life. For the first time, I will have an experience all my own. A new language, fresh tastes, and beautiful surroundings set the stage for a wonderful chance of personal development and growth. With an apartment in the heart of Florence, I will have the opportunity of a lifetime to study interior and product design in the mother country of architecture. Let the adventures begin!

Having never been outside of the United States, I am compelled to bid everything that I have ever known farewell. My suburban home, my school, my job, my close-knit family, and my friends. The parting is bittersweet for me, filled with anticipation for my upcoming adventure but also sadness that those I love and admire will not be by my side. My parents arranged a Going Away Party for me this past weekend in order to illustrate goodbyes, but instead of sad I found myself happier than I had ever been. Though many tears were shed, I felt blessed, honored to be in the company of such wonderful people. It further lifted my spirits when I remembered the countless others within my campus community. They have all had an impact on molding the person I am today, whether through inspiration, encouragement, or unconditional love. As I go abroad this afternoon, I will wear that love as a ribbon across my heart, taking each and every one of them with me.

ITALY - CAN YOU SEE IT? :)

MY IAR GIRLS :)

STEELER FAMILY :)

Although I am ultimately  looking forward to an entire new culture, there is one thing that I may struggle with. I may be forced to give up my absolute favorite food - PEANUT BUTTER. I eat peanut butter several times a day, whether put on toast for breakfast, on a piece of fruit, or just out of the jar. According to others who have traveled abroad, peanut butter is almost a delicacy in Europe, making it nearly impossible to find or priced incredibly high. I hope to find that this assumption is false, but only time will tell. Perhaps I will find a new favorite "spread." Somehow I see Nutella in my future!


MAKE IT COUNT - R.M.S.