I'm going to Vienna!!!--it's the brainwashing (updated)

I wrote this last post night, when Leah and I were planning on going to Vienna for the weekend. We got up at the obscene hour of 5:15 this morning, and went to the bus station to get a ticket to go Vienna. We could get a ticket to leave at 8:00 am, but then we would have to come back on the 8:00 bus from Vienna tomorrow morning! We wouldn't have anywhere near a full 24 hours in Vienna! In the early morning light, we decided to cut our loses, enjoy Prague and got back on the Metro to go back to the apartment. Everything always happens for a reason; I was on less than an hour and a half of sleep, I know better what to do the next time I want to day trip, tomorrow is supposed to be the only nice day in Prague for the rest of the week. Plus when I got back and went in the kitchen, my water bottle was still sitting on the table. Clearly, I was not supposed to go to Vienna!

So I am breaking my own rule of day tripping out of town when I only have one weekend in Prague. But it's not my fault, it's the brainwashing from five years of German class.
All that said, I'm going to Vienna!!!! Oh, Wien! I know, I haven't seen much of Prague at all, being sick this week. But I still have another week! I am this close to Vienna, and after five years of being brainwashed in my German classes, I can hear the call (or the sound of music) to go Vienna. Plus I am looking forward to *almost* understand what people are saying, and being able to read the street signs, and in general not feeling like such an idiot wandering the streets, not being able to decipher any local language. I know I will stumble, I know I will make mistakes, and I know that I have not really spoken any German in over a year, but it will be amazing!
I am staying at a hostel, and I splurged on a single room. The hostel seems to be the same deal as Alma Mater, so it should be okay. Apparently there are few hostels that are close to the center. Leah and I are going in on the bus (at an obscene hour) and coming back on the bus at 5:00 pm Sunday, but she is going to visit one of her good friends, so I will probably go around by myself, which is fine with me because that way no one can laugh at me when I horribly mess up my German! This is my first time in a German-speaking country since actually seriously studying German (when I went to Germany when I was 13, I only had the introductory middle school German). So this is a really big thing for me! I am really excited! This is going to be amazing! AMAZING!
P.S.: Thanks to you guys who have been especially cheering me on this week and whose voices I can hear in my head all the time (or maybe it's just the im-ing): Sarah, for being my lovely Austrian cheerleader and urging me to go; Kellie, for knowing exactly how I can be and reminding me that I should be safe every time she talks to me; Molly for just telling me to go for it and have a blast; and Mom, for doing all of the above! Love you all!

Ahoy from the Vagabond!

No, I am not trying to extend National Talk Like a Pirate Day! "Ahoy" and "Ano" are my two favorite words in Czech. It's pretty obvious why I think the "ahoy" (ah-hoy--"hello") is so cool--who wouldn't? "Ano" is awesome because, if you are an English speaker, it kind of messes with your head! Ano (pronounced ah-no) means "yes," and the equivalent of "yeah" is "yo" or, even better, "no." I would love to be able to hold a conversation in English with someone who did know what was going on and shake my head in agreement saying "yo, yo" or "no, no." Yo I would!

But I really don't get to say "ahoy" and "ano" that much. We live right in the touristy center of Prague, so everyone in any shop or cafe I have gone into speaks English, so I don't have a chance to horribly mess up trying to use my few Czech words and phrases. Good for integrity of the Czech language, frustrating for me to expand beyond my five word vocabulary. In addition, my host family is hardly around and we don't interact that much, so I can't practice Czech at home. But I think that whenever I am able to practice Czech in my homestay, coupled with my suspicion that Czech may be easier than Polish, contribute to me actually feeling almost comfortable throwing out a prosim (please) or dekuji (thank you). Except when I am ordering food, especially pasta and gelato, because I still automatically use Italian. It wasn't great in Bologna, but it's much better than my Czech! I think part of my problem with using English on this trip and wanting to use and pick up the languages on this trip is because English is my first and only language. I have never been able to use German outside of the classroom, and I don't speak any other languages. So my language complex comes from the fact that this is my one time (at least in the foreseeable future) that I will have the opportunity to communicate in a language other than English. But I have come to understand that English is necessary for many other travelers and Czech people, who also do not speak the same language, but both parties speak English. But I am looking forward to hopefully adding a few more words to my Czech vocabulary, and then testing my German in Berlin at the end of the week!

I really feel I must update on the posting from my the beginning of my second week in Krakow, where I said I was falling apart because my foot was killing me and I thought I was catching cold. First of all, my foot is much better, and only rarely hurts or feels weird; but we are going dancing tonight, so that will be the true test! And, long story short, I have spent most of the first week in Prague sick. I started feeling better throughout the week in Krakow, so I thought it was just allergies; but when I got to Prague, I started going downhill. Again, I though it was my allergies, because everything that I could be allergic to but can usually handle individually--dogs, cigarette smoke, down pillows, dust, really old buildings--are all in the apartment. But when I still had problems in class and going out to eat, I realized that I had a cold. I have felt ten times better each day (it doesn't hurt to breath anymore!), but it has been depriving me of being able to go out and explore the city and eat gelato. I can tap into a wireless signal while laying in my big comfy bed, so that has made my days, which have been split between class and bed, so much more tolerable and fun! But I am feeling better, so expect me to go out and cause trouble and explore Prague!

About that gelato. Yes there are plenty of ice cream stands for all the tourists to flock to while milling around the astrological clock at the top of every hour. But that is ice cream, not gelato. I discriminate--against fake gelato. I just wanted to put that out there.

Now, if you will excuse me, I am going to go out and be even more of a vagabond!

My inner Disney princess--or should I say "queen"

Sunday we had a highly uneventful tour of Prague--but of course it was absolutely beautiful. We learned that the four of us live in the Jewish quarter, Josefov, and that we have the best location for the homestays because most of the tour was basically right in our neighborhood! After the tour, Iveta decided that we should go to Prague castle, which sits on a hill dominating the city. One of the sites on the tour was a church by the Charles Bridge that was founded by a Masonic order (I hope I am getting that right, because I can't remember the name of the church). This intrigued a few of us, including Iveta, who really could not stop talking about it. As we walked toward the castle, she told us that the Strahov monastery opposite the castle had underground tunnels that also had a Masonic past, and how when she and Betty tried to visit them, they were denied access. In all of this talk about secretiveness and the Masons, one of the other girls was prompted to voice her disgust with Masons because, as she said, besides being secretive, they were anti-Semitic, patriarchal, and only for wealthy white men. Saying this--not just what she said but the way she said it as well--really shocked and put another girl and I on the defensive, which we were totally unprepared for! I said that my understanding of the Masons were as a service and faith-based organization, which surprised many people in the group. My mom's family has a long history of being involved in the masons; her dad was a 32nd degree mason (the highest level of masonry), her mom in Eastern Star, her brothers in DeMolay (for boys), she and her sisters in Rainbow Girls (for girls, obviously!), and her parents led the Rainbow chapter for many years in the Elkhart area. Even though I was not raised in Rainbow or being active in masonry, I have very strong ties to it, particularly through my mom and grandmother, who tried to raise me with the supreme values of faith, hope, and charity. So when this girl (I do not want to use her name, because that would obviously disrespectful and wrong) attacked the Masons out of emotionally-driven and uninformed opinion, it did hurt me a bit, because that is a strong family tradition, a base for the values that I was brought up with, and a connection with my mom's family. I was not upset to the point of being completely crushed, but I did try to avoid the girl for the afternoon so I could get my emotions in order, because I haven't felt affronted like that in some time. As we were walking to the castle, Ashley and I started talking, and I found out that she too was trying to grapple with what had just been said. She has been active in the Rainbow and Masonic youth organizations nearly her entire life, and that is where many memories, values, and friends come from. We talked about our respective feelings and experiences; about the types of service and other activities she does in her organization, about my family's tradition, about how so many people have misconceptions of the Masons and what they do, particularly after the DaVinci Code, and how we are afraid we are seeing the decline in participation, particularly with people our age. I had never met someone my age who had been involved in Rainbow, and neither of us expected to come on the trip and meet another person who we could talk to about this. She got a kick out of the fact that my high school prom was at the former Masonic temple in Elkhart, and that my mom had as much fun (if not more) hearing me describe how it looked after the fire when I was six and after it had been turned into a dance club. In the end, the positive connections that came out of this outweighed the minor negative incident.

Can I say that one of my favorite things on trip thus far is Prague castle? Why did I even ask that? Prague castle is absolutely stunning. Again, Prague spreads out beneath you, and I could just sit for hours on one of the walls of the castle and take everything in! Prague castle is now the seat for the Czech government, and you can walk right under the Prime Minister's house without any snipers on the roof or gates meant to keep citizens--or non-citizens in this case--out, very opposite the White House. On the other side of the Prime Minister's house is St. Vitus Cathedral, a huge and spectacular Gothic cathedral, flying buttresses and gargoyles and all. I was a little disappointed, because I was totally expecting the gargoyles to come to life and start singing and dancing! I guess that only happens in Paris. Or in Disney movies. The castle is definitely something that I would take the good part of a day to explore. There are several museums and churches on the grounds. A must-see is Golden Lane, a very cute little street that reminds me of the Muppet Christmas Carol, and was where the castle's artisans and masons (the craft and guild kind) lived, as did Franz Kafka. The houses are the tiniest things I have ever seen! There is also a dungeon at the end of Golden Lane, and I kind of want to go in there, but I am not sure that they allow visitors, so I might just have to break in! And then the gardens--the labyrinth of gardens that winds through the castle are so magical! I found one small garden in particular that was walled in, had a line of pink rosebushes, ornate lamps, and a spiral staircase that led to a little turret, very a la "Romeo and Juliet" or "Beauty and the Beast." I am a hopeless romantic. It was the absolute most perfect place for me to get in touch with my inner Disney princess, particularly since I was wearing my pink swishy skirt, and for me to over come the many years I have spent in jealousy and rivalry with Belle from Beauty and the Beast, who lives in a castle in France that has an enormous library and in the end winds up with a cute guy who is also a fabulous dancer. Besides the fact that she started on this path as basically a sexual captive in the castle's dungeons. Now I had my own castle, my own garden with pink rosebushes, and my pink swishy shiny skirt--eat your heart out, Belle! The next step in the whole feminist princess process is to kick out the Czech government and all of the tourists from my castle! Then I would be queen, wouldn't I? I can do that!

I do not want to really go into what happened next. There were some group issues that had been boiling under the surface, and then boiled over while the group was at the castle. We had a long, emotional talk about class and privilege as the streetlights came on at the castle. I don't really want to discuss what was said, as this is not the place for specifics. I will say that it was enlightening to learn more about our group dynamics and the individual members of the group. I realized that although I can speak about "patriarchy" and "oppression" in an academic setting and apply it to other people and their situations, I have a much harder time positioning myself as being effected by these structures, although I know that I am. Everything that I have learned in the last two years in being involved with the Center for Women's Intercultural Leadership and in my outside activities and classes really helped me understand what happened.

The view only gets better as you get higher

If I had to characterize my explorations of Prague thus far, I would have to say as a general rule that the view only gets better as you get higher. And no, I am not making any references to the use of cannabis.

Saturday afternoon everyone split up; some people found their way to the Vodafone store, others went back to their apartments, and because neither one of those appealed to me, I had my first wandering through Prague. I think it is very appropriate that I live near a street named "Revolution"! I headed up Revolucni (I wish I could tell you that the stores and restaurants on the street live up to its totally cool name, but they really don't) and saw what look to be a park on the other side of the river that looked really cool. Of course I investigated. The climb up the hill from the river is very steep, and as I kept climbing higher, I would have to stop and marvel at the view--Prague is gorgeous! All of the buildings from various architectural styles make for one amazing architectural patchwork that is framed by the Vlata. Letna (the name of the park, which I found out later) is definitely a little off the tourist map, and is where families and friends come to meet and enjoy spending time with each other in the great outdoors. Since I was pretty much the only tourist taking in the views, I had to dodge dogs, couples on rollerblades, and little kids on their bikes. But it was totally worth it! Just when I thought the view could not get any better, I went further along the path and found another breathtaking vista! I made my way through Mala Praha ("Lesser Prague," which I think is my favorite part of Prague) to the Charles Bridge. Like in Krakow, the Charles Bridge had all of the great touristy music that I just can't help but love. Just off the bridge, there was a concert by a Roma family, with the most amazing, high-speed violin part I have ever heard! There was an accordion and a guitar as well, but the violin player really didn't need them and could have kept the crowd going by himself. People were dancing and clapping, and the atmosphere was electric! On the Charles Bridge itself, there were two men trying to play dixieland-style jazz, which took me away for a moment from the Charles Bridge and back to Louisiana. But then I came right back, listening to the toe-tapping rhythm, and taking in more of Prague in the yellow evening twilight. Great times!

After all of that walking, I had to drag myself back to the apartment. When I got in the door, Mahina and Joanna were leaving to go to a potluck dinner over at Stephanie and Kristin's apartment, but I knew that if I went to Steph and Kristin's, they would have to drag me back to Soukenica. So I stayed in, planning to relax for a little while and head then head over to the potluck. In the meantime, Betty came home while I was getting something to drink in the kitchen, so I helped put the groceries away; while I was putting the groceries away, Betty started making a big bowl of pasta and was chopping up garlic and scallions. Did I ever mention that I love pasta? She invited me to share the pasta with her and Mary (did I ever mention I know how to score a great pasta meal?), and for some reason it was amazing! After we were finished eating, Betty took two bowls of pasta she had set aside and told me that they were for the dogs. Motioning for me to watch, she held the two bowls up, said some type of command in Czech, and the dogs sat up on their hind legs with their paws in front of them. Betty stretched out the whole show, and when the proper comedic effect had been reached for the easy-to-please American, she put the bowls down on the ground and told me to watch the second half of the show. "It will take 60 seconds," she said, as the dogs devoured the pasta, which made me laugh uproariously. I obviously don't have dogs. As Betty, Mary, and I sat around the kitchen after dinner, I learned that Betty had trained the dogs to act like squirrels to ask for their food. I think what makes the show even better is that the dogs are nearly identical brothers, and they do this completely in synch! Yes, I know, I am easily amused! It was then that I learned how to say marijuana in Czech, because that is one of the dogs names (just because I can say it doesn't mean I can spell it!). I ended up by staying in that evening, but I am really glad that I did, because I was able to spend sometime with the my host family and learn more about them and become more comfortable living with them.

"I think you will enjoy many fun times here."

Our travel was definitely better going from Krakow to Prague than going from Bologna to Krakow. The only scary time was connecting to our second train in Katowice, Poland because it wasn't coming and wasn't showing up on arrivals board and we kind of thought we were going to be stuck in the middle-of-nowhere Poland. It was just a little late, and we made our connecting train in Ostrava to Prague without a problem.

Even though the train ride from Ostrava took three and a half hours (which for some reason was a really long time me to sit still, play sudoku, and begin to do homework), the Tatra mountains at twilight were beautiful. As we zoomed past picturesque little villages, I had the soundtrack from the Sound of Music in my head--the cheesy, musical, supposed-to-be-Austrian-but-really-Hollywood Sound of Music. I know. You don't have to say anything. I am sad and pathetic. But it is one of my favorite things!

We made it into Prague around 8:30 Friday night. Even from the trian, Prague is huge! Bologna and Krakow were both big cities, but they're not quite the sprawling metropolis that is Prague! We all were kind of plastered to the train windows looking at Prague's skyline at night. Strangely enough, when the train was entering Prague, and as we were disembarking from the train, I had this feeling of--I don't know how else to describe it--happiness. Of being almost contented. Even if I can't accurately describe it, I felt like I had in Bologna, happy to be where I was and happy to simply live in the moment. Maybe it was because I have been looking forward to seeing Prague, to be having a homestay, or whether it was just that the weather was nice Friday evening, but I got off the train with a genuine smile inside and out.

At the train our host families swept us up in a flurry of luggage and introductions in Czech. Iveta and the four of us in the big homestay were met by Betty, her partner Honsi, and Betty's sister. Picture this situation: eight people, five people's insane amount of luggage, and two compact cars. My luggage went in first. Honsi tried heave my luggage into the trunk, but I wouldn't let him do it. I have not been dragging my 32 kilo suitcase halfway around the world for nothing, and so instead of letting this tall muscular man lift the suitcase into the trunk, little me who doesn't weigh that much more than my luggage hoisted it into the trunk without a problem. Honsi was completely dumbfounded, and everyone totally cracked up laughing. I don't think I explained it very well but it was hilarious! Mahina said that she wasn't going to be that much of a feminist! The four us and Honsi piled into the taxi that only says its a taxi but is not a real taxi. Honsi speaks more English than Betty and was our translator for the evening, and wasted no time in breaking the awkward silence by asking the question; that if this women's studies major had a ten cents for each time someone had asked her the question she could pay off her student loans and work on paying for law school,

"So, you are all studying gender studies. What is this, gender studies?"

So of course with four women's studies majors in the car you can imagine what happened next...no one said anything, just a bunch of awkward giggles. It had been the first time on the trip anyone had been asked about her major, and it can be kind of difficult to explain women's studies to someone to someone who is not very familiar with feminism, particularly a man, that we'd just met, in the Czech Republic. Eventually one of us said something about women's studies and feminism and a women's perspective (obviously she wasn't me). Then Honsi, obviously intrigued, pressured us even further. This second question definitely pays for at least the first year of law school,

"So what can you do with this gender studies?"

Here I feel I should say that Honsi was not trying to be cynical or mean or anything, he was just genuinely curious and obviously had never had a car-full of American women's studies students before. Again, all the four of us managed to do was look at each other and giggle awkwardly some more. I didn't say anything because I figured my usual canned response of "anything I damn well want to" wouldn't exactly work in the situation. Instead I think I offered something like law. One of my more acceptable responses. But then,

"But how can you have this gender studies at your schools? Don't you have men at your schools?"

Oh yeah, this question fell right into my lap. I'm the only person from a women's college on the program. This one was all mine. And in a random situation like this I couldn't go into a spiel about the importance of being educated as a woman at a college entirely for women! So I think I said something along the lines of that my college was specifically founded to be a women's-only college, and that it wasn't going to change in the near future. The dichotomies of "man-hating" feminism and the preservation of age old tradition nearly choked me as I stumbled to find the right words. But it worked for Honsi.

As we were driving to the apartment, Honsi laughed with us and said "I think you will enjoy many fun times here." I think that was an understatement. The fun had already started in the car, and didn't stop when we reached the apartment. About the apartment. When we walked in, there were a ton of people! When we got there, we must have had at least 15 people in the apartment, including some random visitors from Canada that were apparently long lost relatives of Helena's (Betty's mother). It was loud and boisterous and totally chaotic! Introductions happened, but I can't really say who was who. All that I remember from the introductions was the crazy old Canadian man that came out of Helena's apartment waving his cane at us. And the dogs didn't particularly take to us either. In the middle of the madness Iveta was going around doing introductions. I do remember that we met Betty's older daughter Vicky and Vicky's boyfriend (Iveta: "And this is Vicky's new boyfriend; she must have gotten a new one." Right in front of the boyfriend; we hoped he didn't speak English.) Iveta has such a way with words. Back to the apartment. I feel like the only way to attempt to capture the eclectic character of the apartment is to say, well...I feel like I am living in a surrealist painting! Absolutely nothing goes together, with random paintings and magazines and pieces of furniture that really aren't supposed to make any sense to unenlightened outsider. Except for the references to cannabis throughout the apartment, including the hookah in the bedroom I share with Leah, which is the designated non-smoking room. The apartment is gigantic and is like a maze, with one room leading off of another. The four of us share the daughters' rooms at the front of the apartment, which are basically the size of a small apartment in itself. Leah and I have the small bedroom, but it is big enough that we each literally can take a side of the room. The apartment is so awesome! I have already begun thinking about how I would decorate it, and I totally want an apartment like this! In the whirlwind of introductions, Mahina whispered to us "I think these people are hippies!" I think that too is a little bit of an understatement, but I think I will be enjoying "many fun times here."

On to Prague

This is the last post *from* Cracovia, but like I did for Bologna, I have a bunch of stuff that I have written for the blog but have been too busy or too lazy to post. We are leaving on a train for Prague in five minutes, or should I say three trains! We won't get there until 8:30 tonight! I made the mistake of looking at my horoscope a couple days ago said that my present travel plans would be delayed, and knowing our group's crappy luck with traveling, all the Tauruses on the trip are to blame this time (and I think I'm the only taurus). We are staying in homestays in Prague, and there are four WMSE students staying in my homestay: Leah, Joanna, Mahina, and me. Plus the coordinator Betty, plus her husband (I think), plus her two daughters, one daughter's boyfriend, and perhaps Betty's mother. In an apartment. For two weeks. Plus at least two dogs. And apparently their English and German is questionable. And my Czech is totally nonexistent. Iveta got Mahina and I excited because apparently they live right across the street from a vegetarian/vegan restaurant, but then she said "But it's kind of expensive." OK down an excitement level. And then she said "And it's really not as good as Green Way." Thanks, Iveta! I don't know what the internet access is going to be like, but I will post more on Cracovia as soon as I can. I just want clean clothes because I haven't done a load of laundry since the first week in Bologna! Did I mention ten people in one apartment? Oh yeah, it'll be amazing!

Disturbed in Cracovia

I think this whole time in Poland, I have failed to mention the fact that currently there is no Polish government. Well, parliament, at least. Apparently the president and prime minister (who are the only head of states who are also twin brothers) are so impossible to work with that the parliament voted to dissolve itself. As an American, it is so hard to believe that a parliament or any governmental body could just vote to dissolve itself, and it is further unfathomable that this could happen and the nation not be in a complete state of uproar. If it were the United States, there would be total anarchy and chaos! I can't really talk, though, because I would be one of the feminists trying to establish the Feminist States of America! But it's another story in Poland, where the Poles merely say, "we'll have elections in October." Wow! I guess I am really impressed (should I be?) that people can take an event like this in stride and not go completely crazy; I don't think I am explaining this right, but I think there is a lesson in citizenship that Americans can learn from the Poles.

Some of my favorite performers on the square are the people who bring out their guitars and play random folk and rock rhythms amid all the accordions and violins playing their baroque and classical melodies. Yesterday I was walking down Grodska on my way to cause trouble at the castle when I walked past one such guitar player sitting near the gelato place. I picked up on the beat until the guy actually started singing. John Mellancamp's "Jack and Diane"--which is one of the songs that I absolutely can't stand--in Polish! I'm from Indiana, so of course I like John Mellancamp, but I very strongly dislike "Jack and Diane." A little part of me died inside when I heard it!

Then as I was walking back to hotel from the grocery store tonight, I followed two older men, in their sixties perhaps, merrily singing and dancing their way down the Westerplatte. Or maybe it was closer to skipping and hopping rather than random dancing. They were trying to do a hop step at the same time, and maybe it was my imagination, but they might have been skipping arm and arm. They were completely harmless, just two very merry and very drunk old men! I am not sure whether to laugh hysterically or to be traumatized from the experience!

"It's cold and rainy and we're standing in the middle of the square in Krakow eating gelato."

I just talked to my mom! And my brother, and my grandmother. We call at 5/11--five their time, eleven my time. I have talked to my family six times in the last month since I have come to Europe, four times in Bologna and twice in Cracovia. I love my family and I miss them, and I am always so happy after I talk to them. It is weird to talk to my family and friends back in Indiana. I love where I am and would not trade the people and the experiences for anything, but it is strange to be separated from everyone and everything, that I am not a part of what is going on. The Cubs and Colts are still winning, Notre Dame is still losing miserably (if that's what you call the utter disaster that has ensued the last three weekends), the Monologues workshops are starting, the Certificate people went on the retreat this weekend, Feminists United and the Women's Resource Center are doing amazing things, and everyone is back at SMC, and I am not a part of it. While on one hand it can be difficult at times, being here is a great thing, because I need this time to be on my own and learn more about myself and where I am supposed to go in the world. And I am having the time of my life doing it!!!

And I still haven't posted pictures. I am ashamed. The time that other people spend taking and uploading pictures I usually spend writing. Probably because I have so much to do and I know that if I put pics up, I will waste at least two more hours (as if I don't waste enough time already). You are probably getting really bored with just me rambling on, but seriously, the pictures aren't that great. I have had an ethical problem with taking pictures, because I see all of these great photo ops with people, but I feel wrong taking pictures of them without their permission and then putting them on my blog. Plus I feel that it ruins the moment that a picture is supposed to capture. Or my procrastination inclination kicks in and I think that I'll just take it later. I could keep pondering as to why I don't take more pictures and haven't loaded the ones that I already have taken, but I'll spare you anymore details.

It is so hard to believe that we only have two more days in Cracovia! I thought the time in Bologna went by quickly, but that was nothing compared to Cracovia; it seems like we got here two days ago, but it was actually something like ten days ago. I have to confess, I don't feel the same way about Cracovia that I felt/feel about Bologna. But with each passing day, I have found more things that I like about Cracovia and will always remember. Sitting by the river, hanging out at Massolit, meeting up at the end of a long day at Green Way, listening to the music in Rynek Glowny... The past few days have been absolutely gorgeous, so I have been outside as much as possible, which has helped this creature of the sun enjoy Cracovia even more. Each day I find a new place along the river, and take my little picnic lunch and become a part of the riverside culture. It was in Cracovia that I realized that I love being able to go outside and enjoy the public spaces such as the parks and squares in Europe, and being able to walk (or take public transportation) anywhere I want to go. It is a little sad to get to know a place and culture and then drop everything and leave after only two weeks, but I guess the beauty of the experience is that I will be able to do the same thing in four more places. Four more times to make these discoveries.

This evening we went to a Chinese restaurant for dinner (I went a whole day without going to Green Way), and it was amazing! I really have missed Chinese food, and especially Golden Dragon, so on the way to the restaurant Martha and I were reminiscing about how amazing Golden Dragon is and how much we love it. I had the sesame chicken that was served on a hot plate that was in the random shape of a cow. Chinese food is still my one weaknesses when it comes to eating meat, and even though I hadn't eaten meat in a month, it was delicious! I think I might just go back everyday--all of the two more days that we are in Cracovia! As we were finishing up eating, we looked at each other and simultaneously decided that we needed gelato. So like the crazy gelato-addicts we are, we went back out into the cold, rainy evening (the day started out beautiful again but turned gray and rainy again during our siesta this afternoon), and headed up Grodska to the gelato place. They had fraggola, frutto di bosco, menthe, cioccolatte, something that looked like it was similar to inferno, and even blueberry, but I don't know how to say that in Italian. I had my cioccolatto/menthe combination. This stuff was called gelato, but there was no way that it was real gelato. It's saving feature was that the cioccolatto was really chocolatey, so that kind of made the gelato world right. We walked through the square eating our gelato, when it hit us (yet again) that we only have two more days in Cracovia. That's when Ashley pointed out the total irony of the situation by saying, "It's cold and rainy and we're standing in the middle of the square in Krakow eating gelato." What could have been better? Great people, great chocolate, great place. Just then, the bell in the cathedral hit eight, and the trumpeter sounded his horn from atop one of the towers, sounding the call that the Tartars are invading (at least if this was the 13th century, and the trumpeter gets killed by an arrow to the throat after the fifth note). We looked at each other and smiled. Yes, it was cold and rainy and we were crazy fools eating gelato without any sort of jackets or umbrellas, but that was the beauty of our evening in Cracovia.

Standing in the middle of the Wisla

I wore sandals today! After we got out of our morning lecture, I discovered that I was crazy enough to wear a long-sleeve shirt and another flannel shirt, when the temperature was over 70! I headed straight back for the hotel, and changed into one of my Bologna outfits--my skirt, a my black t-shirt, my Kenyan scarf, and of course my sandals. I shed the heavy backpack and grabbed my Bologna bag and set off to bask in the sunshine. Each day seems to get sunnier and sunnier, and I just get happier and happier! There was no way that I could stay inside--can anyone say PICNIC!!!! I grabbed bread, raisins, and granola, and picked up some yogurt at the store, and while I know this sounds anticlimactic (especially compared with the lentil soup), let me tell you that it was absolutely scrumptious. I found a spot on a hill overlooking the Wisla river, with the castle behind me and a clear blue sky above me. I took my sandals and scarf off and sat in the grass trying to comprehend a Donna Haraway article. Although the setting made tacking the article much easier, I didn't exactly read the whole thing before the methodology seminar where we supposed to discuss the article. After I read most of it, I decided to join the couples and families and cyclists and walk along the river (boats and all). I had not had the chance to just simply walk along the water and soak up the sunshine since in Europe, and it reminded me of going to the beach with my family this summer. There was a sandbar on the other side of the river, and so my nature trail-loving, tree-jumping, trouble-maker self absolutely had to check it out. Don't worry, I didn't swim, I actually used the bridge (I guess that's what those sidewalks are for). Being on the sandbar was like being back on the beach--the waves gently meeting the sand, people talking in the distance, the sun beating down. I just stood in the sand, letting it come into my sandals as I tried to take the scene in--the castle, the city, the sky, the river, the hills, everything. There were even skipper-rocks, so I gathered as many as I could and skipped them across the water. I was so content and at peace, even though trying not to get all mushy (or slightly grossed out) as I stood there with all of these couples. The scene was so idyllic, and I tried to make it sink in: I am in eastern Europe, farther away from my family and friends than I ever have been before, this scene is amazing, and I am here experiencing it all!

J-Walking, Polish Style

I have concluded that you can learn quite a bit about the local culture simply by crossing the street, and that how well you can play in traffic by local rules and not become a hood ornament is one way to measure how well you've adjusted to the place. Here is an image for all of my Saint Mary's women. You want to cross 933 at the Avenue and continue down Saint Mary's Road to LaFortune to go to Starbucks. I will apply the various traffic rules and laws that I have experienced thus far to this scenario, but before I go any further, I must problematize this image. First, I know this image will only resonate with the people who are familiar with this particular intersection. The second reason why this image is problematic is because the intersection is not normally a four-way intersection, because the traffic flows mainly north-south on 933, the stoplight never changes if you are coming off the Avenue, and the light is usually only set off when the Jimmy John's person is pulling off of Saint Mary's Road. It is important to note here that there is a crosswalk across 933, with a button to push to get the signal to walk (but we all know how well that works). And this proves that I have been reading way too much feminist theory in the last several weeks because I just applied the framework of a feminist analysis to crossing the street. I just scared myself.

First I will apply Italian traffic laws and norms (because regulation and theory are not always applied) to the case of 933. In this case, of course you have to stop, because the drivers are crazily aggressive and they won't stop! Stepping out into the middle of the busy four-lane highway without a clear shot or a walking signal is nothing short of a death wish! Once you have the signal, you can cross at the crosswalk, but maybe the cars turned onto 933 will stop for you--only maybe. Crossing the street in Bologna was one adrenaline rush after another, because it was a constant power struggle for the road between drivers and pedestrians, and you could never really tell who would win.

The story is slightly different in Poland. Pedestrians nearly always have the right of way on Polish streets, except in the case of a crosswalk with a signal. Since there is a signal at the crosswalk on 933, you as the pedestrian have to yield to oncoming traffic. But for a moment, assume that you cross at the part of the intersection without the crosswalk. In this case, the cars have to stop for you, although it would be really stupid to step out into four lanes of oncoming traffic and assume that they'll stop for you. In theory, even the trains have to stop for you, but this theory doesn't usually carry over into practice and I don't really want to test that theory. But I have a slightly cruel, sadistic streak in me, and I love to play chicken with the car drivers, because I know that if I step out into the intersection without a light or crosswalk at just the right time, they have to stop for me. I love playing with Polish drivers. But on the other hand, Polish drivers are passive-aggressive, and as soon as you are two inches past their car, they will floor it (if that's possible in a stick-shift Fiat) and nip the back of your heels.

So after I have said all this, I, like all the other great feminist theorists, can't come to a clear conclusion as to whether I would rather play in Italian traffic or Polish traffic. In Italy I had an adrenaline rush every time I crossed the street because I didn't know if I was going to make it across, but in Poland I get the satisfaction of playing with the minds of the drivers as I j-walk in front of their cars. I am getting a little tired of waiting forever at the traffic light at 933, so when/if I decide to come back, I think I might change the traffic norms the first time I have a hot chocolate run to Starbucks.

The Green Way Three-Way

On the street that connects Hotel Wyspianski with the Rynek Glowny, there is a magical pace full of vegetarian wonder and enchantment. This place is called "Green Way." Even though I am sure there are many perfectly lovely restaurants in Cracovia, there is something about this place that calls me back at least once a day from wherever I am in the city. Part of it is the huge menu, the crazily inexpensive prices, huge portions, and the homey "Cheers"-like atmosphere. But is the three way combination of strawberry and whipped cream pancakes, the strawberry smoothies, and the amazing lentil soup.

Let me tell you about the lentil soup. The strawberry pancakes and smoothies bring me ephemeral pleasure, but my heart truly belongs to lentil soup alone--at least while I am in Cracovia. When the Cracovian evenings are dark, cold, and windy, a bowl of lentil soup is always waiting for me--ever the hot and cheap way to cap off an evening. When I look at the lentil soup, I don't see the individual lentils, carrots, onions, potatoes, celery, turnips, red peppers, black pepper, paprika, and too many other yummy ingredients to name. Rather I just see the bowl of lentil soup sitting before me, waiting to tickle my tastebuds. I don't taste all of the different vegetables and other things in the soup--things I might normally pick out or not eat at all--but they all come together in one harmonious song in my mouth. It's not broth or peppers or carrots I am tasting, it is lentil soup. I can't imagine my life in Cracovia without lentil soup, or my life after Cracovia without lentil soup. Lentil soup has filled a hole in my life after I had to leave gelato behind in Bologna, and there will be a hole once again when I must go onto Prague and the lentil soup must stay behind at Green Way in Cracovia.

Becki is falling apart!

I would just like everyone to know that I am falling apart. And I don't know why I referred to myself in the third person in the title. No, I am not falling apart in the emotional break down sense--yet. Although Leah said it really well the other day; we are traveling for three months and going to a different country every two weeks, so of course breakdowns will happen a few times. But this isn't going to be about any emotional negativity, and although I have had my share of that in the past few weeks, only my journal, Baby Jesus, and my mom really get it (thanks Mom). If you want to read on, fine, but this is basically going to be me kind of complaining (and admitting that I am complaining).

It all started on Wednesday or Thursday when I noticed that my foot was killing me. I don't know whether I aggravated an old injury or what, but it hurts whenever I move or put pressure on a certain place on my foot--in short, whenever I move my foot at all. So just realize that I am putting myself through a great deal of pain to roam around the city to bring you tales of my (mis)adventures; but who am I kidding--most of you who are reading this know that is a bunch of crap and that I would do this anyway. But it really cramped my style when we went dancing Saturday night, because I couldn't really lift my foot off the floor or put any pressure on it, so I looked even more like an idiot dancing Saturday night than I usually do. The Peanuts kids dance so much better than I did the other night. The past few days I have been able to handle it pretty well, but this evening I wasn't sure whether or not I would make it back from Green Way. When I got back, my foot was really swollen and I have used it as an excuse to lay in bed and write posts for my blog. I don't see why it won't start to feel better in a few days, but I can't imagine doing another 4+ countries on it. And no, I am not coming back because my foot hurts a little.

Then Saturday I started having a scratchy throat, which I didn't really think anything about because the air is so dry in the hotel. I thought it would be better when I got back to the hotel room after Saturday night after getting ready in another room (most of the other students on the program are at least social smokers which normally I don't have a problem with) and then dancing in smoky clubs. But two days later it still hurts to swallow, and I started coughing both times I was sitting by the river today. Last night I didn't even want gelato (I think I might have found a decent gelato place!) and just went to my Fazoli's-like pasta place at the mall before I grabbed some orange juice and dark chocolate. I am going to the apteke tomorrow to get some homeopathic cure-all that Iveta swears by and has helped cure three people on the trip so far.

So if you have gotten this far, I am really sorry that you just read all of that. I don't usually do this very often. I don't feel as awful as what I made it sound like and it hasn't really stopped me from wreaking havoc on Cracovia. But now you know that my foot really hurts and that I have a sore throat. I haven't been sick since Christmas and I don't intend to get sick now. But what I wouldn't give for an icepack right now--how do you say "icepack" in Polish?

Auschwitz

We went to Auschwitz on Friday, and I did take some pictures and a video. I have not decided whether or not I want to put any more than this on the blog. I have not been able to watch the video. Words, pictures, video--they can't capture what it is like. You have to actually go there to know. That is one of the reasons why I haven't posted on the blog for several days. I am not sure that I can attempt to articulate what I saw without going through it all over again, and I am not sure that I have come to terms with it yet, if that is possible. And I am especially not going to do it at eleven at night. I feel like this is too much. If you think I should put more, I can, but not now.

I can't say chocolate in Polish!

Certain things about Cracovia grow on me each day. To begin with, the sun broke through the clouds for a few glorious minutes. The best part about walking through the Rynek Glowny ("main square") and the city center is the music. The three dueling accordions were back today, and there was a unique duet with a trumpet and an accordion on another corner near the cathedral. A violin played somewhere on the Rynek, but I never saw where. While I was trying to figure out if the piece the dueling accordions were playing was baroque or classical (I'm leaning toward baroque), I came across a guy with his electric guitar and amplifier at the base of the tower. Tuesday night and again tonight I listened to the organist practice in the one church, and last night as I was walking back to the hotel, a guy was playing the didjeridoo and the bongos in the center of the Rynek. While I was reading, I sat in the sociology corner of the English-language bookstore Massolit while they played Billie Holliday. After class, three men were (trying) to play New Orleans-style jazz on a banjo, guitar, and clarinet. I so wished I could have had someone there who would swing dance with me, because I looked pretty stupid trying to swing with no one to swing me!

I went back to the mall this evening in search of a warm scarfs, gloves, and a hat before we tour Auschwitz tomorrow. The Galleria Krakowska is three stories and a few football fields long. Walking around the mall it was hard to believe that something like this didn't exist here when I was born, but now here is this huge mall that is a cathedral for the gods of consumerism. Paradoxically, I don't mind this outlandish display of excess (I think that was redundant) but yet it makes me a little sick. It is a very nice, slightly upscale mall, with every clothing retailer imaginable and then some. It has everything: the garish window displays, corny decorations, food court, but not enough sale signs! Then again, I can only guess what saldi would look like in Polish. In the last few days I have realized that I am completely addicted to chocolate gelato, because I had it nearly everyday in Bologna. I found a place that looked like it had semi-palatable ice cream. I figured out which one was the chocolate, but then asking for it was another matter. No "due gusti cioccolatto e menthe, per favore." I couldn't even pronounce "chocolate" in Polish! I just stood there and pointed and tried hopelessly to make the combination of consonants come out, but it didn't work! I got three choices again, so of course I had fraggola and frutti di bosco. But it was ice cream. It wasn't gelato. Or custard. Or anything minutely close to any of the delicious scoops of heaven I'd savored in Bologna. It was plain, boring, artificially flavored ice cream. So very sad. Then on another floor I found what was supposed to be an Italian restaurant, which had many flavors of what appeared to be real gelato, but because I had filled up on ice cream I didn't have room for the gelato. But this cioccolatto gelato was really dark (the only way I like it) and the place had menthe, plus a blue concoction called "smurfy." I am really curious about that last one--for a minute I thought blue moon had made it to Poland! So there will be another trip to the mall for some gelato. What really made me sick was the food court, not just that the mall had one, but that it had a KFC, a Subway, and McDonalds. I thought I was going to lose it. I think it is just because I am American (and that I don't really like the big corporations in the U.S. either) that I reacted this way when I was confronted with them halfway across the world. I guess it's not surprising, because I knew they were here. Why shouldn't the people of Cracovia like Kentucky Fried Chicken or be deprived of the chance to loose weight by eating Subway sandwiches? I think that I make a bigger deal out of these companies being here than the Polish customers. Harkening back to my own consumerist tendencies, I am not sure I found the perfect scarf, so I am going to set off early in the morning and hopefully find the perfect warm scarf and gloves before Auschwitz.

"Roam"

And while I am at it, I feel like I need to explain why my blog has such a random name. Yes, it is from the B-52s song "Roam." What can I say, I love awesomely bad music like that! I think the lyrics totally sum up my attitude and goals for this trip. Plus, when I was on the phone to Aer Lingus before I left (see the first post about that), I fought off their annoying Irish ballad by watching this video on YouTube:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tBaKlrbW7u0

Oh Mr. Sun, Sun, Mr. Golden Sun...

I am totally making up for lost time with my posts, but maybe by posting so much this is my subconscious way of posting so much that you won't read too many posts. There is one ethernet outlet that works in the entire hotel, so when I have it I guard it with my life, because I can't check my SMC email while connected to a wireless network. Or because one of my roommates has the flu, so I am avoiding the room. Or maybe I am posting so much because I am procrastinating again on homework. You pick which one it is.
Today was probably the best day since coming to Cracovia for two reasons. First of all, the sun finally came out! Yesterday I sang the song "Oh Mr. Sun, Sun, Mr. Golden Sun" as we were walking down the street to the mall. I guess if you ask the sun to come out and play with you he will! Maybe if I ask Santa Claus for an iPod at Christmas that will work too! And why does the sun have to be male? I won't go into that! So yes, the sun came out today, more than it had in the past three days! It wasn't like the Bolognese sun, but it'll have to work. I soaked up the sun like a sun sponge! And yes, I twirled in circles again. Today was one of those days that lets you know that fall is in the air and the leaves will be changing soon, which I absolutely love. Will I be able to experience European fall fireworks? While I was getting some rays, I realized that I have not had pasta since Saturday (at 8:30 p.m.) and pizza since last Thursday. I was in total withdrawal! So as usual we went back to our vegetarian restaurant (which is one of the best things about Cracovia) and they had pasta for lunch! And it was good! And I felt so much better! Then to top it all off, I learned how to order a cocktail (basically a strawberry yogurt smoothie). It was amazing, absolutely amazing!
We had our feminist methodology seminar at an American bookstore this afternoon. It has a ton of great new and used books in English, with a cafe and lots of cozy reading corners! My dream! The cafe had brownies, and Stephanie, you're right, the brownies aren't the same in Europe. I guess my brownies and I will just make it our mission to conquer European brownies! But it was an OK brownie all the same.
After school I set off by myself again, and found myself in another church with an impossible name to pronounce. It was a much smaller neighborhood church, and had obviously been recently restored. Again, I got in on the rosary, but because it was in Polish it was a whole different ball game. I could do OK in Italian in the prayers and services, but I was totally lost with Polish. The "universal" structure of mass didn't help much! I decided that I need to learn more Polish, because I still answer people in Italian (though I am trying to speak English more because more people speak English in Cracovia). I only know three words in Polish, and while I know I will use two of them, they're not exactly along the lines of "please" and "thank you," and the other one should not be in the same paragraph as going to church. Maybe that's why I brought the Polish phrasebook! But at least I still haven't gotten totally lost yet!
I decided to make myself people-sick this afternoon, and buy the "Go Cubs Go" song online (which is also on several videos on YouTube). It is one of my favorite songs. Despite the fact that they lost yesterday and are now back in second place in the NL central. There are two students from St. Louis, one of whom is my roommate, and I am not sure how much longer I will be able to talk to them. Pretty soon it will come down to a knock down, drag out fight, and I know that I can take them! I also bought the song "Roam" by the B-52s, which currently is my favorite song. Yes, I am roaming, because I want to, all around the world.

Is there a "right" way to do a blog?

OK, so maybe I just get really really reflective, which is my own brand of "philosophy," which I am afraid will scare people. But then again you all know me and how I get. Like I said, I don't like dead white men (and yes, my philosophy professor may be reading this and knows that I don't enjoy them). Should I have a different name for them? Or should I warn you at all? (Mwahaha!)
Plus, would it be wrong for me to go back and edit posts I put in earlier, like add things that I had forgotten or rephrase things? Or would that mess up the whole reminiscing and reflecting process?
P.S. to Molly because AIM isn't working now: I just need another excuse to post! I love it when I get comments on my posts! You made me laugh again!!! And I promise, I am working on the red post! And I love exclamation marks!!!!!

Gingerbread Hearts and My Huge Fluffy Pillow

Gingerbread hearts and my huge fluffy are the two best things about Cracovia. Monday night we went to a 24-hour grocery store , where I found a package of brown heart-shaped bread-like stuff that smelled like ginger. Guess what! It was heart-shaped gingerbread! And I just ate one as I was laying on the biggest, fluffiest pillow ever-it is twice the size of a regular pillow and I will steal it when we leave.
So I still haven't really warmed up--to Cracovia or gotten any body heat back! Each day seems to be a little nicer than the one before. But the other really awesome thing that I discovered on the first day was the pocket inside my jacket! I am in love with this pocket! My wallet fits in there perfectly, so I can put it there and not have to worry about it. I put my can of pepper spray in my right outside pocket, so my false sense of security is back!
Monday night a WMSE program alum who lives in Cracovia took us on a walking tour of the city. It was rainy, cold, and windy. Yucky. For me Cracovia is more confusing than Bologna (again, I am the only one who thinks this). Now I know I was raised in Elkhart, which is supposedly really confusing because of the two rivers, but Cracovia has both a river that zig zags through the city and a castle (which looks totally awesome, maybe I would like Elkhart better if it had a castle). One of the places Julie took us was the former Jewish ghetto. It is on the other side of the Wisla, and the bridge that you have to cross to get to the area is the bridge that the Nazis forced the 60,000 Jews from Kaczimerz (the Jewish quarter) to use when the Nazis relocated to Jews to the ghetto. As I stepped on the bridge, I had the weirdest sensation, that my feet and legs were not my own, that they were being forced to walk. As I walked across the bridge, I felt like I was being pushed and bumped and jostled like there was a crowd of people crossing the bridge at the same time instead of just the twelve of us. Right after the bridge is a square that has a monument to the Jews of Cracovia, dozens of chairs spread out over a piazza (that's the only word I really know for it), some big, some small, some alone, some in groups. There used to be railroad tracks on the far end, which was where the two transports of people were deported. I found this out after something had told me to go over to that area. Stephanie and I were talking about living in the same area where such horrible things happened. I think that is a question that I will be asking a lot in the next few days, particularly with visiting Auschwitz on Friday. On the way back across the bridge, I realized that the people who crossed the bridge didn't go back across.
On a little bit lighter note, I stopped into my first church in Poland! Please don't ask me to pronounce or spell the name of the church, all I can tell you is that it is the one with the white facade and brick back with a gate out front that has all of the apostles on it. I realized that one of the reasons I loved Bologna so much was because I went into town so much and absorbed as much as I could; so if I want to try and get over my Bologna-sickness in Cracovia, I had better start to do the same thing here. So far it has been my experience that each church that I have been in has a different character uniquely its own, and makes you worship and reflect in a slightly different way. When I sat down in the church, I had this feeling that I had to pray and meditate. Some of the other churches that I have been in have made me simply stand in awe and praise, but the spirit of this one gave me the feeling that I had to confront everything that I had on my mind. Get things off of my chest. I don't know if that made sense or not. As I was sitting there, the organist started practicing. That made the experience truly amazing, because everything is better with the right music! Then I walked around the chapels on the perimeter of the nave, and the one that was closest to me was the chapel of Our Lady of Loretto. When I saw this, I literally broke down and cried. No, I don't cry at random pictures of saints. For those of you who aren't as familiar with Saint Mary's campus, our church on campus is the Church of Loretto, and in the chapel in the back is a statue of Our Lady of Loretto that (long story short) miraculously made it from LeMans, France to Saint Mary's. So Our Lady of Loretto is kind of special for this Saint Mary's Belle, and that is why I cried. I will definitely come back to it throughout the next few days.

You can't speak Italian in Poland?!

Our flight finally got into Krakow around 11:30, and the first thing I realized as I stepped onto the Krakow tarmac in the cold rain and wind was that they don't speak Italian in Poland! Using my vocabulary of thirty Italian words has become second nature for me, and I am so conditioned to speak in this weird Italglish. I don't have to say how beautiful it was to fly over northern Italy, with cities and roads lit all lit up and me kind of crying on the inside because I was leaving Italy and going to Poland. Yeah, I had Bologna-sickness before I even left. It's not like that I did want to go to Poland entirely, it was just that I loved Italy, and that I didn't really want to give up the last two weeks. Or the really nice weather. I swear as soon as we left Italy it started raining and we hit turbulence, which I took as further signs that I should've stayed in Italy.
But back to the Italian part. I said goodbye to the flight attendant in Italian, shoved my way onto the bus in Italian, and tried to talk to the immigration man and taxi driver in Italian. And they all looked at me like I was crazy! Even today I still want to throw out a few "grazies" and "scuzzas."
The weather here absolutely sucks! Or rather, it reminds me of South Bend during November and December. Raining, cold, and gray. It's not like I'm not used to this type of weather, but it was sunny and 85 degrees yesterday in Bologna! Just a huge letdown. I really have to stop comparing to Bologna. Actually when we touched down in Krakow (which henceforth shall be known as its Italian name "Cracovia") I felt kind of good about being in Poland, like it would be a totally new adventure with amazing surprises and that I wouldn't miss Bologna as much. It's kind of true.
On the way into town last night we passed by church after church, monastery after monastery, which were all pretty breathtaking. Today Iveta showed us the way into town. We are staying at the most centrally located hotel in the city, especially compared with Alma Mater in relation to everything else in Bologna. We are less than a five minute walk from the church where Pope John Paul II was a priest--be jealous, be very jealous. Cracovia seems to be a bit more pedestrian friendly, and it scared me when I lost my nerve and didn't j-walk across the street! We walked around the main square, down a few streets, and found the castle (which is the first time I have been up close to a real castle before and it was really pretty awesome). There is a great walking path along the Wisla river, which is currently overflowing. As we were walking along the Wisla the sun managed to peek through the clouds, at which time I stopped, threw my hands in the air and twirled like a maniac in the sun's glorious rays. Yeah, I got a few looks.
There is a great vegetarian restaurant just a few blocks away from the hotel, so I had an enchilada (yes, I know, I am in Poland) and the most amazing lentil soup ever! The enchilada was actually pretty good, except for the fact that it had mushrooms and I HATE MUSHROOMS! But we will definitely be going back a few times. But I couldn't help but notice the sign in English that said "beware of pickpockets." I don't think that I will have the same security to go out alone, particularly at night, in Cracovia that I had in Bologna. It is totally going to cramp my style! So far I feel sort of out of place, because I don't fit in with the dark hair/dark eyes thing of Bologna.
Cracovia is also a lot quieter than Bologna, which could be because it is colder and more people are inside, but it is kind of a weird shock not to hear kids screaming, horns honking, and dogs barking. But Cracovia has a type of noise that Bologna doesn't--street performers. In the main square, there are many musicians that provided a different type of soundtrack. Outside of the Pope's church there was a woman in a purple dress playing the violin in the rain, her case open on the ground. At first it made me wish that I could play my violin like that, but then I was sickened by the very thought. How could I selfishly want to play my violin just for myself when this woman is standing in the rain as perhaps her only means of subsistence? Iveta said that she has seen the woman at the same place each time she has been in Cracovia. There were also three dueling accordions playing "The Flight of the Bumblebee" and a heartbreaking boy who appeared to be younger than my brother sat on a stool playing random chords on his accordion, alone with his puppy (everything positioned just to have the heartbreaking effect). I felt somewhat guilty that I was enjoying these performers music.

La Dolce Vita, otherwise titled I MISS BOLOGNA!!!

Over the last week I have been torturing myself in making mental notes of what I love so much about being in Bologna that I will really really miss once I leave. Not too deep, just a lot of really happy memories.

• Being able to say "Bologna" in every other sentence! It is such a beautiful and fun word to say, especially compared with Krakow (but "Utrecht" is also really fun to say too!)
• Cioccolatte gelato. E fraggola, frutto de bosco, inferno, e menthe. Enough said. (P.S.: my spelling sucks no matter which language it's in!)
  
• Being able to communicate--kind of. I could finally use all the basic words in most of the right places. I have become so accustomed to hearing and using the language that I can understand and read Italian in specific contexts, until I have to respond and resort to "no para italiano" and smile and nod like a crazy person. But at least I can order gelato perfectly using two or three word incomplete sentences!
• The Italian keyboard, because once I got used to the punctuation marks I am having a hard time typing on my American laptop! The apostrophe on an Italian keyboard is where the hyphen is on my keyboard, so I always type every contraction with a hyphen. I don-t even want to imagine what a Polish keyboard will be like!
• Pasta and pizza! Heaven for me is a place where I can eat my weight in pasta and pizza. So I guess Bologna must be heaven!
  
• The amazing Italian weather! Never to hot, never to cool, and never as humid as Indiana! My body temperature was above that of a dead person's for sixteen straight days--amazing!
• Being able to fit in walking down the street. I feel I must preface this by saying that throughout my life people have felt compelled to tell me that I don't "look American," whatever that's supposed to mean. I guess "Americans" don't have dark brown hair, dark brown eyes, and weird albino-olive skin. Weird. I supposedly "look Italian." I knew I ate like an Italian but didn't know that if you ate enough pasta you ended up by looking Italian. And to think that none of my ancestors came from Italy!
• J-walking! Saying to heck with the traffic that is barreling down via Irnerio and at the Porto Mascarella where I most felt that I was taking my life into my own hands just crossing the street. Why should I be scared of motorbikes and Fiats?!
• The really laid back pace of life. I will miss leisurely sipping my cioccolate in tazza at breakfast, meandering through the streets in no particular hurry, not paying for buses, and more or less living in the moment, which is something I admittedly forget to do most of the time.
• Being lulled to sleep by the noise of Bologna every night, and wanting to just stand at my window and listen to the symphony of the streets.

Actually, I will miss everything!!!!! (except the vicious mosquitoes)

Leaving Against My Will!!!

Sixteen days ago, I flew into the Marconi airport in Bologna; tonight I am leaving. When I disembarked the plane, I had an inexplicable sense of familiarity, of adventure. As I look back at the neon yellow "Aeroporto G. Marconi Bologna" sign, I realize that those slightly vague feelings about the unknown became were replaced by warmth, excitement, and feeling at home. I also realize that I have spent sixteen days in Bologna and still have no idea who this Marconi guy is!

What did I love the most about Bologna? In Bologna I found community: the neighborhoods around Alma Mater and via Sacco, where neighbors congregate on park benches and around cafe tables at all hours. With all of the NOISE students, who came together to form an amazing energy and one of the most supportive and open atmospheres I have ever experienced. The big city that comes together under its porticos and on the piazzas, and then doesn't feel quite feel so big. In a few minutes our plane will leave the ground of Bologna, of Italy, and I will say goodbye to the place that welcomed me with open arms to find out more about other people, another culture, and myself.

Will I ever go back to Bologna? Of course! at least, I pray that in the relatively near future I will be back in Bologna. I have come to believe that you leave part of yourself with the people you meet and in places you go. When this happens you can't take that part back, which is why you have family and friends and places that you just keep coming back to.

The Omen: I Shouldn't Be Leaving Bologna

3:10 p.m.: I am sitting on the cold hard floor of the Bologna airport. Sad but true, our time in Bologna has come to an end. With going into Bologna every night of the week after school, I failed to mention that we were leaving today for Krakow, Poland! Well, at least we think we're leaving--our flight to Krakow was supposed to be at 11:25 this morning, but when we got to the airport we found out that our flight had been delayed until 5:00.

3:45 p.m.: It just came over the intercom that our flight has been delayed until 8:00! We won't be in Krakow until after 10:00! For me, it's totally a sign that I shouldn't leave Bologna! It's actually been kind of a blessing in disguise because our group would not have made it on the plane in time and we have been able to meet a few of the NOISE people who were flying to Amsterdam, Warsaw, and London. Even though we've made it and seen people, this is getting ridiculous! (I think that was an Iveta-ism right there). I am on two hours of sleep and a few minutes of unconsciousness on the floor of Marconi, but I feel fantastic! I decided that I don't care if I look like the dreaded American college student and tourist, so I am bumming around the aeroporto in my pink Glenmary sweatshirt, my Belles sweatpants, and blue Converses. Finally I get to wear my Belles sweatpants in Europe!

6:30 p.m.: Here is the beginning of the conversation between my mom and I:
Me: "Hey Mom, what's going on!"
My Mom: "Hi sweetie, where are you, Krakow?"
Me: "The airport in Bologna. I'm bored."
Yes, our flight was pushed back again! Now we're supposed to be leaving at 9:45, but I am really trying to figure out how I want to spend another Saturday night in Bologna because it doesn't look like we're going to be getting on a plane anytime soon! But until then my mom and the little Polish girls screaming "Mommy I have to go pee-pee" will keep me entertained. Apparently all four year olds speak the international language of "pee-pee."

10:15 p.m.: I have claimed my window seat on the airplane and you will have to pry my cold, tired body from my window! Third straight window seat on this trip--I am so amazing!

Dancing like a Peanuts character

Friday I was absolutely determined to try and relive everything I had done in Bologna in the last two weeks during the space of a few hours. I woke up early and went into town before school, taking pictures of everything that I had walked by in the last two weeks. I walked down the via Zamboni and found a really awesome-looking bakery. When I went in the baker and the clerk started joking with me, and we all started laughing, even though neither party knew what the other was saying. It all lead to another "no para italiano," questions about Americans big appetites, and a more joking and laughing. He let me try any type of bread that I wanted, and even after I had settled on the one I wanted and paid, he proceeded to fill up another bag of coffee biscuits and cookies. I wandered around snapping pictures of Piazza Maggiore and the due Torri, finally not caring whether people saw me as a tourist or not. I retraced my steps along the via S. Stefano, and finally went into the church on the piazza. It was so small and so dark, and even though I had ten minutes to get to Santa Cristina, this was one of those churches where you have to stop and pray. Five minutes later, I am back out on the streets, getting lost trying to get back to Santa Cristina.
At school the groups had to present their final project for the week, and so after missing the vegetarian restaurant and vino the night before, our group celebrated the end of the summer school at the vegetarian restaurant with good vino. Thank God three people in our group spoke Italian! It felt amazing to just relax with the group over salads and talk about things other than feminist theory! Inside my heart was breaking because this was the end of the summer school and probably the last time we would be around the same table, but I realized that I had so many awesome memories of the last two weeks that there was no way that I could get all sappy and mushy.
After we got of school, I headed back into town. I was going through the clothes that I brought and realized that I didn't have anything really nice to wear to the NOISE party that evening. So there was only one thing to do--go shopping! I went back and got a great pink dangly necklace at a little boutique that I had found on Wednesday. I was trying it on, and I was so proud of myself when I understood the owner telling me in Italian that I couldn't try the necklaces on!
I found the same street on which I had my first pasta meal in Italy, but I was sidetracked by a church that I had passed by more than once. Even though it looks unpretentious from the street, Santa Maria della Vita was the most awe-inspiring church I have ever been to! It is one of those places of worship where you must stop to worship and reflect. The sculptures and paintings are set against white walls, which draw your eyes up to the dome. That church is one of those many things in life that prove that true beauty is within.
Then I thought I still needed clothes for the party, so I utilized the first word I learned in coming to Bologna, saldi (sale), and hit up every store on the via Independenzia that had a saldi sign in the window. Now I am a very picky shopper, and while I saw a lot of clothes that I liked, nothing seemed to be working for the party. In one store I made the mistake of asking a clerk for help when she asked me what I needed. Bad, bad idea. After establishing that I did not speak Italian, that my Spanish was worse than my Italian, she didn't speak German, and that English wouldn't work either, I nearly ran out of the store, resolving to wear dress up some jeans with a black shirt and a pink necklace.
The party was fantastic! While I will spare sharing everything on the blog, the party was the perfect way to cap off NOISE. Around eleven they started the dancing, which was what I had been waiting for all night! I had so much fun dancing to the so-bad-that-it's-good dance music! At one point I tried to dance like Astrid, but obviously that didn't work because no one dances like Astrid! As I danced, I realized that I am not homesick. Homesick for me implies that I have a connection primarily to a place and everything that goes with it. But I don't necessarily have that. For me it is the relationships that I have with my friends and family and the people that I meet that mean the most, regardless of wherever they may be. So I guess what I am trying to say is that I am not homesick, I am people-sick. Sorry family, I love being in Europe and don't want to come back to Indiana. Instead I find myself wishing that I could share certain experiences with my family and friends. Like going into every pasta shop I see with my mom, and coming out with a bag full of all different kinds that we can play with. I want to walk across the via Stalingrado bridge that goes over the railroad tracks with my train-obsessed little brother. And even though I was having the time of my life dancing with the amazing NOISE people, I found myself longing for my awesome SMC friends who would be going as crazy as I was. When I needed some fresh air I would check the clock on the Piazza Maggiore and subtract six hours, timing what my friends would be doing on their Friday night. I wanted them with me so we could dance like maniacs, and they could tell me if I was dancing too much like a Peanuts character, because that is what friends are for, to tell you that you're dancing like Charlie or Lucy or Linus. And even though the party was where we had to say a lot of goodbyes and give a lot of hugs, I can't imagine doing it in a better place and saying goodbye (or see you in Utrecht!) to more amazing people!

Fruitfly massacres and random acts of camera terrorism

While other groups spent their last evening together going out to drink and the vegetarian restaurant, the Artemis group decided that they were going to bond while huddled over computers eating pizza and putting together a powerpoint presentation. Honestly, I probably had the most fun I had on the trip to that point. First of all, I finally got back into my groove of being myself--my "goofy," quirky, adrenaline-charged self. My group mates were so shocked, because they had only seen me during the day, and I don't start functioning until at least eight in the evening. Second, our group dealt with what should have been a really stressful situation with lots and lots of laughter. There were eight people in our group: the tutors Eveline from Belgium and Katarina from Serbia, Katharina from Germany, Stephanie from the United States and Holland, Serena and Daniela from Italy, and Teddy from Antioch. We ordered take-out pizza, and then murdered the dozens of fruitflies that were attracted to the pizza. I think I killed one in Katharina's hair, but over all the massacre was a really cathartic affair. Then I decided that I need to get pictures, so I helped the group out by committing random acts of "camera terrorism" (thanks for that one Katarina!). All this while putting together a totally awesome slide show!

Walking and eating gelato

Wednesday night I made up my mind that I was going to go into town and find the gelaterria Eveline had suggested at Piazza Santo Stefano--without a map! I walked down via San Vitale, finally free to wander in and out of stores at my own pace and get as lost as I wanted. I wandered around the piazzas and back alleys, discovering awesome little stores and getting completely lost. Since it was going to be the last time that I had any bit of free time, I treated myself to a great pasta meal and sat on one of the side streets and watched the world pass by. But I still hadn't found the Piazza S. Stefano, so I asked for directions, and found out that I had turned down every street but via S. Stefano and that the gelaterria was really easy to find. I can't walk and chew gum, but I can walk and eat gelato at the same time! While I was savoring what had to be by twelfth gelato in Italy, I remembered that Eveline had said that she hadn't had any gelato yet, which I thought was so terrible. So the next day I had gelato for the thirteenth time and we made sure that she didn't leave Italy without having her gelato!

Firenze

(This is taken from what I wrote in my journal about our daytrip to Florence two Saturdays ago, which puts it at the E.T. alert of orange; and this was before the vino!)
As my friends and family are tailgating half a world away, my hair is blowing in the breeze as I stand at the Piazza Michelangelo overlooking the city of Florence. Everything is so surreal--the sea of red-tiled roofs, the massive Duomo, the surrounding Tuscan hills. I hear the tourists and traffic and somehow I am a part of it but more so I am on another existential plane, the living and breathing eternal spirit that is Firenze. It is not a city that must be on traveler's map to see the historic sites, but rather a spiritual experience of being a traveler and communing with all that ever has been and all that ever will be Firenze. This is not an experience to be rushed, or one in pursuit of the things one can only get in Florence. Rather you must simply allow it to show you what it wants to show you and absorb everything it has to offer.

(This last part is nowhere near existential--I can't handle too much existentialism.)
Obviously my favorite part of Florence was the Piazza Michelangelo, which has a great view of the city. We did some shopping, and capped off the day with a delicious Italian meal and the requisite vino. In all of our wandering through shops, the only thing besides postcards that I came away with was some chapstick so I could get a couple of neat bookmarks about an Italian domestic violence campaign; totally something that I only I would do!

And I'm going to...

After much debate and consideration, I decided what I am doing this, my *tear* last weekend in Italy. And anyone who has ever seen me try and make a decision like this on my own, you know how long it took me to come to any conclusion. So while everyone is tailgating before the game, I will be in FLORENCE!!!! I really wanted to do Rome, which I would be crazy enough to try in a couple of days, but for a bunch of logistical reasons I decided against it. Same for Siena and the Cinque Terre. Most of the group is going to Venice, but realized that because of my love-hate relationship with boats and water, that I would not enjoy Venice tomorrow and its gondolas and canals without enough time to psych myself up for it. Plus, I will not get back to Bologna at an ungodly hour with enough time to spend Sunday exploring Bologna, because I found out last Sunday that I really like Sundays in Bologna. Good night and Go Irish!!!