Here they are:
http://new.photos.yahoo.com/bucky_159/
There are plenty more to load, but these are better than the Flickr albums.
Wednesday, January 24, 2007
Monday, January 22, 2007
Photos
I've posted some photos of my trip thus far at my Flickr website.
http://www.flickr.com/photos/74033623@N00
There are a ton more, but Flickr will only let me load a maximum of 200 on a free account (which is what I have, for the moment). My apologies, as well, for the fact that some of them are sideways. They shouldn't be, and I don't have time to correct them because I'm writing this in an Internet cafe and would prefer to remedy the problem when I'm not being charged €2,00 an hour.
I hope all is well, I'll update in a few days.
http://www.flickr.com/photos/74033623@N00
There are a ton more, but Flickr will only let me load a maximum of 200 on a free account (which is what I have, for the moment). My apologies, as well, for the fact that some of them are sideways. They shouldn't be, and I don't have time to correct them because I'm writing this in an Internet cafe and would prefer to remedy the problem when I'm not being charged €2,00 an hour.
I hope all is well, I'll update in a few days.
Friday, January 19, 2007
Settling Into Florence, Night One
After we arrived in Firenze (Florence, I will use them interchangeably), our buses dropped us off in a section of town on the West Side, and we started the process of hailing taxis for the trips to our apartments. Lorenzo, the director of the study abroad center (CAPA) I am studying at, was in charge of hailing the cabs, and the process was a long and by no means smooth process. There was a sizeable fashion show in Florence on the night of our arrival, and most of the cabs were busy catering to the throngs of people exiting from the show (we arrived late in the evening). We knew who we would be housed with, and my two roommates, Jeff and JP, and I patiently waited for a taxi, while most of the female students were shuttled off first. We eventually hailed a small Fiat cab, dumped our luggage in the back, and the luggage that didn't fit was nestled in our laps.
My first experience in Italian traffic, aside from the bus, was an enjoyable one. Cars, scooters, and bikes travel inches away from each other, and traffic generally moves very smoothly. Cab drivers in Italy are paid extremely well, and there is no need to tip them - the process of becoming a cab driver is extremely political, with the cost of a cab license being in the six figures. So, if you know somebody, you can be a cab driver and earn good wages. If you don't have connections, you find other means of employment.
We were dropped off outside our apartment, and our landlord and his wife were waiting for us. Neither spoke English well, but the wife could understand very basic phrases. Our Italian was not good enough to effectively communicate, so they showed us around our apartment, and we conversed in a mixture of Italian, Spanish, and English. They were friendly folks, and explained to us that the most important rule was to keep quiet, as the people in our building wake early and need every bit of their sleep.
Our apartment is nice. It's a two bedroom, one bath, with a nice kitchen, a balcony, and another small balcony. We have expansive windows overlooking the street below, and a rustic-looking, Tuscan-styled living room with very comfortable colors on the wall. To reach the apartment, you climb a winding staircase, key open a wrought-iron, antique door, and climb some more steps. The staircase has windows that remind me of portholes, which allow views of the outside from the stairwell. I'll post pictures of the apartment on a photo-sharing website soon.
The landlord also left us a small assortment of groceries and a nice bottle of wine for our first night in the apartment; we wanted a meal, however, so we embarked in search of a restaurant.
A significant difference between Italy and America is the availability of restaurants open late into the evening, and we had difficulty locating a suitable location for dinner. We headed into a local pizzicheria for directions. A pizzicheria is referred to as a 'bar' in Italy, but it's very little like the bars in America. The name 'bar' derives from the fact that, yes, there is a bar with a server, but he or she serves different versions of coffee. The place resembles Starbucks, except there are no seats or scenesters, it's tiny (with room for maybe 15 people packed together), and people are very quiet. You can also order a small pastry, and they provide beer and wine, but very few people drink beer at the pizzicherias. Italians in general seem to drink very little beer, a refreshing difference from America. Heineken is, hands down, the most readily available brand.
Anyways, Jeff asked a local where a restaurant was in English, but the man didn't understand what he meant. Jeff doesn't know Italian, so he resorted to his Spanish skills: "Donde es el restaurante?". JP and I walked away laughing; it was obvious that the locals were quite amused by his lingual abilities. Regardless, a local girl caught the gist of his statement, and gave us directions to a small pizzeria down the street. We had some delicious calzones for €5,00 apiece, headed home, and fell asleep, getting ready for our first full day in Firenze.
My first experience in Italian traffic, aside from the bus, was an enjoyable one. Cars, scooters, and bikes travel inches away from each other, and traffic generally moves very smoothly. Cab drivers in Italy are paid extremely well, and there is no need to tip them - the process of becoming a cab driver is extremely political, with the cost of a cab license being in the six figures. So, if you know somebody, you can be a cab driver and earn good wages. If you don't have connections, you find other means of employment.
We were dropped off outside our apartment, and our landlord and his wife were waiting for us. Neither spoke English well, but the wife could understand very basic phrases. Our Italian was not good enough to effectively communicate, so they showed us around our apartment, and we conversed in a mixture of Italian, Spanish, and English. They were friendly folks, and explained to us that the most important rule was to keep quiet, as the people in our building wake early and need every bit of their sleep.
Our apartment is nice. It's a two bedroom, one bath, with a nice kitchen, a balcony, and another small balcony. We have expansive windows overlooking the street below, and a rustic-looking, Tuscan-styled living room with very comfortable colors on the wall. To reach the apartment, you climb a winding staircase, key open a wrought-iron, antique door, and climb some more steps. The staircase has windows that remind me of portholes, which allow views of the outside from the stairwell. I'll post pictures of the apartment on a photo-sharing website soon.
The landlord also left us a small assortment of groceries and a nice bottle of wine for our first night in the apartment; we wanted a meal, however, so we embarked in search of a restaurant.
A significant difference between Italy and America is the availability of restaurants open late into the evening, and we had difficulty locating a suitable location for dinner. We headed into a local pizzicheria for directions. A pizzicheria is referred to as a 'bar' in Italy, but it's very little like the bars in America. The name 'bar' derives from the fact that, yes, there is a bar with a server, but he or she serves different versions of coffee. The place resembles Starbucks, except there are no seats or scenesters, it's tiny (with room for maybe 15 people packed together), and people are very quiet. You can also order a small pastry, and they provide beer and wine, but very few people drink beer at the pizzicherias. Italians in general seem to drink very little beer, a refreshing difference from America. Heineken is, hands down, the most readily available brand.
Anyways, Jeff asked a local where a restaurant was in English, but the man didn't understand what he meant. Jeff doesn't know Italian, so he resorted to his Spanish skills: "Donde es el restaurante?". JP and I walked away laughing; it was obvious that the locals were quite amused by his lingual abilities. Regardless, a local girl caught the gist of his statement, and gave us directions to a small pizzeria down the street. We had some delicious calzones for €5,00 apiece, headed home, and fell asleep, getting ready for our first full day in Firenze.
Wednesday, January 17, 2007
Amsterdam, Rome, initial entry into Firenze
My flight from Amsterdam to da Vinci airport in Rome was on a much smaller jet, which I believe they refer to as a city-hopper here. The flight flew right through the heart of the Alps, and I snapped a few pictures, here's two of them (the current header picture is another one I took):
The approach to Rome was underwhelming. Rome's an expansive city, but da Vinci is situated well outside of the major urban area, and it's very isolated by open ground. I even joked that it seemed as if we were touching down somewhere in the American heartland, and da Vinci was also significantly older than the Amsterdam international airport. Amsterdam had a much more contemporary design, whereas da Vinci resembled a quintessential airport from the 60s or 70s: lots of matte metal and a slightly confusing layout. It also was much more reserved in terms of technology, with a lack of large screen TVs, computers, and other technological items of that sort.
We met some folks from our overseas study program, and the approximately 60 students in the Florence program loaded their belongings onto two buses that basically resembled the Italian versions of Greyhounds in the States. Most of the students had a carry-on on wheels and a larger checked bag. Some of the girls had an additional checked bag. I had my laptop case.
The bus ride was about 4.5 hours long, and I slept for most of the trip. I had only gained 5 hours of sleep on the flight from Chicago to Amsterdam, and I knew that jet-lag would kick in when we settled down in Florence.
I woke up with about 45 minutes left in the bus trip; Italian traffic actually isn't as bad as people told me, and there seems to be many unstated rules of the road. Horns are used extensively, but I didn't observe any incidents of road rage. Generally, vehicles tend to move smoothly, and drivers are intelligent on the road.
Our entry in Florence was through the back part of the city; we entered on the south side of the Arno, the older section of town, but the exit from the highway was on the southwest corner of town, which is lower than the rest of Florence. Consequently, we were robbed of any type of breathtaking view of Firenze during our initial minutes in the city. There were a decent number of hotels most Americans are familiar with: a Holiday Inn, a Hilton, etc, an interesting observation I made before being dropped off to catch a taxi to my apartment.
The approach to Rome was underwhelming. Rome's an expansive city, but da Vinci is situated well outside of the major urban area, and it's very isolated by open ground. I even joked that it seemed as if we were touching down somewhere in the American heartland, and da Vinci was also significantly older than the Amsterdam international airport. Amsterdam had a much more contemporary design, whereas da Vinci resembled a quintessential airport from the 60s or 70s: lots of matte metal and a slightly confusing layout. It also was much more reserved in terms of technology, with a lack of large screen TVs, computers, and other technological items of that sort.We met some folks from our overseas study program, and the approximately 60 students in the Florence program loaded their belongings onto two buses that basically resembled the Italian versions of Greyhounds in the States. Most of the students had a carry-on on wheels and a larger checked bag. Some of the girls had an additional checked bag. I had my laptop case.
The bus ride was about 4.5 hours long, and I slept for most of the trip. I had only gained 5 hours of sleep on the flight from Chicago to Amsterdam, and I knew that jet-lag would kick in when we settled down in Florence.
I woke up with about 45 minutes left in the bus trip; Italian traffic actually isn't as bad as people told me, and there seems to be many unstated rules of the road. Horns are used extensively, but I didn't observe any incidents of road rage. Generally, vehicles tend to move smoothly, and drivers are intelligent on the road.
Our entry in Florence was through the back part of the city; we entered on the south side of the Arno, the older section of town, but the exit from the highway was on the southwest corner of town, which is lower than the rest of Florence. Consequently, we were robbed of any type of breathtaking view of Firenze during our initial minutes in the city. There were a decent number of hotels most Americans are familiar with: a Holiday Inn, a Hilton, etc, an interesting observation I made before being dropped off to catch a taxi to my apartment.
Chicago -> Amsterdam
Ciao! I'm behind on posting, so I'll provide a quick recap of my flight from Chicago to Amsterdam on this past Thursday evening. To keep a long story short, I was fairly busy during my last few days in the States, in between finding housing for next school year, taking care of resources (Student ID cards, luggage, Italian dictionary, haircut, etc.) I needed and/or wanted before leaving for Florence, and just trying to enjoy whatever time I had left in America. So most of my packing was put off until Wednesday night, and I finished at about 5 in the morning. On Thursday, Dad and I left Hebron and arrived at about 12:30 at the airport; my flight would leave at 4:30, and Northwest Airlines recommended I arrive three hours earlier since security for an international flight may have been a little tenuous (I tacked on an extra hour just to be safe). Anyways, Dad and I decided that we'd just pull up to the proper terminal for the flight, I'd get out, we'd say our goodbyes, and he'd head on home - there would be no need for him to remain at the airport late, just to see me through security, and then have to drive home on the interstate at night.
Our plan worked well, except that the minute Dad drove off, I realized my wallet (containing all my debit/credit cards, international student id, driver's license, and a small amount of cash) was on the floor of the Ranger! To make things worse, Dad wasn't answering his cell phone. There was no way I could miss my flight, I decided - so I would just use my passport to get through my flights (I wouldn't need ID, as long as there were no problems with my passport), and then I would have my family mail my wallet to me in Firenze.
Thankfully, Dad called me a short while later on his phone to see how things were going. I frantically explained to him to turn around and drop off my wallet. It took him a while to locate the proper terminal, and for me to make my way back through security, but we were able to transfer the precious item with about thirty minutes to spare before my departure. Disaster averted!
The flight itself was a breeze - it was a 6 hour, 45 minute trip, which was actually about 1 hour, 45 minutes shorter than predicted due to a strong westerly tailwind. There wasn't really much to see; about twenty minutes after we lifted off, the sun set and heavy cloud cover resulted in city lights being completely masked. The plane traveled over Newfoundland, the Atlantic, and the middle portion of the UK - the UK was very, very dark, and we were only able to see a small city that was very dimly lit. Our approach into Amsterdam was interesting; the city looks very, very spread out from above, and very flat. The lights on the streets are much more distant from each other than, say, the streets would be in Chicago or Denver, or most modern American cities. Our landing was surprisingly smooth.
We landed in Amsterdam very early, somewhere near 5:00 AM or 6:00 AM local time. The airport had a very eerie feeling about it; the people seemed tired very tired due to the early hour, and the airport was fairly deserted. There was also a very palpable feeling of being in a foreign land, even though it was an international airport. The few people that were up spoke no English; they also had an inclination to speak very quietly. We Americans are surprisingly loud, something that is very evident abroad. I purchased a citrus drink at the airport grocery for €2,35, since the plane cabin had left my mouth dry. For the next two or three hours Britt and I relaxed at a vacant tropical-themed bar, watching the locals filter in for early morning flights until it was time for our flight to depart for the da Vinci airport in Rome.
Here's an example of some local art in Amsterdam:
See my next post for my recap of my arrival in Italy.
Our plan worked well, except that the minute Dad drove off, I realized my wallet (containing all my debit/credit cards, international student id, driver's license, and a small amount of cash) was on the floor of the Ranger! To make things worse, Dad wasn't answering his cell phone. There was no way I could miss my flight, I decided - so I would just use my passport to get through my flights (I wouldn't need ID, as long as there were no problems with my passport), and then I would have my family mail my wallet to me in Firenze.
Thankfully, Dad called me a short while later on his phone to see how things were going. I frantically explained to him to turn around and drop off my wallet. It took him a while to locate the proper terminal, and for me to make my way back through security, but we were able to transfer the precious item with about thirty minutes to spare before my departure. Disaster averted!
The flight itself was a breeze - it was a 6 hour, 45 minute trip, which was actually about 1 hour, 45 minutes shorter than predicted due to a strong westerly tailwind. There wasn't really much to see; about twenty minutes after we lifted off, the sun set and heavy cloud cover resulted in city lights being completely masked. The plane traveled over Newfoundland, the Atlantic, and the middle portion of the UK - the UK was very, very dark, and we were only able to see a small city that was very dimly lit. Our approach into Amsterdam was interesting; the city looks very, very spread out from above, and very flat. The lights on the streets are much more distant from each other than, say, the streets would be in Chicago or Denver, or most modern American cities. Our landing was surprisingly smooth.
We landed in Amsterdam very early, somewhere near 5:00 AM or 6:00 AM local time. The airport had a very eerie feeling about it; the people seemed tired very tired due to the early hour, and the airport was fairly deserted. There was also a very palpable feeling of being in a foreign land, even though it was an international airport. The few people that were up spoke no English; they also had an inclination to speak very quietly. We Americans are surprisingly loud, something that is very evident abroad. I purchased a citrus drink at the airport grocery for €2,35, since the plane cabin had left my mouth dry. For the next two or three hours Britt and I relaxed at a vacant tropical-themed bar, watching the locals filter in for early morning flights until it was time for our flight to depart for the da Vinci airport in Rome.
Here's an example of some local art in Amsterdam:
See my next post for my recap of my arrival in Italy.
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