Time flies. I can't believe this trip is over. I feel like I just got here. I don't know how I feel, actually. I'm excited to go back home and see family and Graham, but I'm really going to miss everyone and living in JLP. I like living in towns where you can walk anywhere you need to go. Leaving is bittersweet. Luckily there will be a few of us on the same flight back. It's late and I have to get up in a couple hours.
Today we went to Eze and Nice. Eze is beautiful. We took a bus to the top of the mountain and walked around. Jemma's dad told her that we needed to go to the Golden Goat restaurant. It was really expensive (we just got coffee/hot chocolate), but the view was fantastic. I also got some gifts. Nice was okay. There were a lot of clothing stores, and I liked Ventimiglia's rock beach more than Nice's. We tried climbing this mountain to find a waterfall, but it didn't work out. Finding the train station was an interesting experience. Not really. It was kind of stressful.
I had to write an advice paper for next year's students. I was kind of lazy with it. The advice papers don't help. You just have to experience everything on your own and you'll learn along the way.
I'll probably finish the "Trip to Venice" story when I get home. Aw. Now I'm sad again.
Fun Fact: I turn 21 on Tuesday (June 9th)!
Saturday, June 6, 2009
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
Experiential Paper
I THINK I CAN, I THINK I CAN
By Morgan Pelligrino
The train has become a neglected means of transportation in America. All of the MARTAs and Subways are convenient for inner-city travel, but they lack the adventure that the European trains easily provide. Before I arrived in France, the only information I knew about the train system was that they were never on time and the workers occasionally went on strike.
I never had a hair-pulling experience while traveling back and forth from Juan les Pins to Cannes. Sure, they were delayed a few times, but it was never terribly inconvenient. I found my inner rebel when we all decided to stop paying for tickets to Cannes. The first ticket-less ride was ten minutes of over-the-shoulder glances and anxious fidgeting. The goody-goody Morgan felt paranoid and ashamed, but I slowly buried her with a false confidence that my peers openly shared.
It took an impulsive trip to Venice for me to appreciate the TER (Train Express Regional). The TER makes its last stop in Ventimiglia, Italy…then TrenItalia takes over. Let’s put it this way: TER is to TrenItalia as Grandma’s homemade macaroni and cheese is to the bright orange slop in a school cafeteria.
Seven of us decide to take a day trip to Ventimiglia and had no problem paying the six euros and ninety cents to get there. The TER arrives at 11:45, and six out of seven of us hop on. The seventh member (let’s call him Luke) is still waiting in line to buy a ticket when our train rolls away from the Juan les Pins station. A couple of us nervously laugh while muttering sympathetic “aw”s. After realizing the next train to Ventimiglia arrives an hour later, we relax in the blue chairs of second class knowing we would eventually meet up with our friend “Luke.”
First Train: Juan les Pins to Ventimiglia 11:45 AM
Before the trip to Italy, I never took the time to examine the quality of the TER. Compared to the MARTA, with its urine-y aroma and plastic chairs complete with “I <3 Shayna” graffiti, this train was top of the line. Air conditioning flows freely from the side window panels. The seats are virtually stain-free and still have a supportive bounce. Trash is nowhere to be seen. Giant windows allow you to feast your eyes with the beautiful views of southern France. The two levels provide an abundance of seating choices. There is nothing like sinking into a blue TER chair after a long day of touring.
The one hour ride to Ventimiglia flies by. Our group discusses what we would like to do as soon as we get there. I look forward to practicing my Italian after taking a full year of classes. No one else on the trip knows any Italian, and I feel delighted knowing that I get to be a translator. There is never a moment during the short ride when I whispered a word of gratitude for the TER’s bright atmosphere. I am too busy sharing my excitement with my fellow travel-mates. We acknowledge that we couldn’t have picked a better group of people to go on a trip with. Gorgeous cliffs and luminous bodies of water catch our eyes and my heart skips with anticipation. This is going to make up for any instances of ugliness that had plagued me earlier on the trip. With our egos filled and wallets open, we step off the TER and enter a new country.
Second Train: Ventimiglia to Milano 6:50 PM
Venice! We’re going to Venice! Why the hell not?
It only took one hour in Ventimiglia for the group of us to come to the mutual decision that one Italian city is not enough. After exploring the charming markets, basking on the rocks of the Ventimiglian beach, and seeing nothing but smiles on the faces of the locals, there is no other option. We must delve deeper into the boot.
The second train is toasty—the bad kind of toasty. Forget ski lounge toasty and imagine being stuck in a latrine on a hot summer day…toasty. The males of our posse toss their shirts over their heads as the rest of us groan with a mix of disgust and jealousy. Small tables are situated between four chairs that face each other. A lid next to the window opens up to a trash can…or in my case…a temporary sandwich holder. The chairs are checkered blue with brown tinged headrest flaps. This is no TER.
The four hours begin with picture taking and end with delirious chanting and general silliness. Three of us make playing cards out of our unused, fake business cards. Despite the humid and dingy environment, we learn a lot about each other. As the trains get crappier, our fellowship grows tighter.
Third Train: Milano to Verona 12:15 AM
As we walk to our next train’s platform, two security workers inform us to get on the second car “for our safety.” On our way to the car we see that half of our train is pitch black. We question whether or not they meant the second car from their end or from the opposite side. The boys run toward us with McDonalds in hand, and we climb on a random lit car.
The seats are a close replication of the Ninja Rollercoaster at Six Flags. Thick, black plastic curves around the headrests. We were unsure if this was an attempt to hide oneself from the person seated next to them or if they served a higher purpose that we were never meant to learn. The armrests are fixed and destroy any hope of lying across two empty seats. Gone were the tables and sandwich holders. Our plans of sleeping are crushed, but our spirits are still high. One of the boys (we’ll go with “Bryce”) takes on the voice of an eighty-year-old woman with a delusional infatuation with Woodrow Wilson. We invest our creativity in a short film mocking The Real World. The green and blue striped seats provide a perfect backdrop to fake “confessionals.” Who needs sleep?
Fourth Train: Verona to Venice 4:50 AM
We need sleep. After a two hour layover in Verona, we decide that we will nap on the next train. The comprehension of what the next train actually consists of happens in slow motion. A hooded man hangs out the window of the only lit car. We keep walking in hopes of finding a decent car to sleep in. A station employee informs us that the last car is the only car we can stay in. Panic takes over. Is this the train that leads to our demise?
I guide the group up the train’s steps and slide a door open. A handful of people are sitting on the floor with their heads resting against the wall. There is a long row of closed rooms with numbers on them. None of the numbers match our tickets. I notice that each room has a group of sleeping passengers inside. They look so peaceful. I try to imagine what that feels like.
The lights burn my eyes and I slowly sink to the floor. This narrow hallway is going to be our place of rest for the next two hours. We shake our heads in disbelief. I lean over to the young stranger next to me and mutter, “Non mi piace questo treno.” He grins and nods in agreement. The remainder of the group awkwardly sits down and we begin to shuffle in search of comfort. Indian style is the only reasonable position. Sleep becomes a main priority, and stomachs and laps become headrests. Seven grown individuals are intertwined like a litter of newborn puppies.
As soon as we find a satisfying position, a woman approaches our cluster. An assortment of limbs blocks the path to the bathroom/exit. This is annoying. With a couple of slight movements, the woman is forced to hop through the obstacle course we have created. When two more people loom over us, we realize this isn’t going to work. “Bryce” moves outside of the door to create more room. We almost lose him when the exit door opens and he almost topples out.
I look at the mass we have generated and I have to laugh. Three weeks ago I had no idea who these people were. Now I’m using one of their butts as neck support while another one rests his head on my knee. I can’t be upset about our state of affairs. I realize I am going to remember this event for the rest of my life.
The train comes to a halt around seven A.M. I cup my hand to shade my eyes from the Venetian sunrise. The cool air wraps itself around our weary bodies. I stand on a bridge and smile. We’re in Venice.
Reflection
Some people might call this an unfortunate experience, but I refuse to see it that way. Those four trains did more than get us where we needed to go. I formed a solid connection with six other people who love adventure as much as I do. You get to know each person’s ticks and mannerisms. I am still amazed that we got along so well. I’m usually picky about friends, but each one of these individuals had something special to offer. I know. I’m getting mushy.
Instead of cursing the trains, I want to thank them. Thank you for letting me quench my thirst for exploration for little money. Thank you for inspiring gratitude for my privileged lifestyle. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to connect. Thank you for giving me a great story to tell.
Viva TrenItalia!
By Morgan Pelligrino
The train has become a neglected means of transportation in America. All of the MARTAs and Subways are convenient for inner-city travel, but they lack the adventure that the European trains easily provide. Before I arrived in France, the only information I knew about the train system was that they were never on time and the workers occasionally went on strike.
I never had a hair-pulling experience while traveling back and forth from Juan les Pins to Cannes. Sure, they were delayed a few times, but it was never terribly inconvenient. I found my inner rebel when we all decided to stop paying for tickets to Cannes. The first ticket-less ride was ten minutes of over-the-shoulder glances and anxious fidgeting. The goody-goody Morgan felt paranoid and ashamed, but I slowly buried her with a false confidence that my peers openly shared.
It took an impulsive trip to Venice for me to appreciate the TER (Train Express Regional). The TER makes its last stop in Ventimiglia, Italy…then TrenItalia takes over. Let’s put it this way: TER is to TrenItalia as Grandma’s homemade macaroni and cheese is to the bright orange slop in a school cafeteria.
Seven of us decide to take a day trip to Ventimiglia and had no problem paying the six euros and ninety cents to get there. The TER arrives at 11:45, and six out of seven of us hop on. The seventh member (let’s call him Luke) is still waiting in line to buy a ticket when our train rolls away from the Juan les Pins station. A couple of us nervously laugh while muttering sympathetic “aw”s. After realizing the next train to Ventimiglia arrives an hour later, we relax in the blue chairs of second class knowing we would eventually meet up with our friend “Luke.”
First Train: Juan les Pins to Ventimiglia 11:45 AM
Before the trip to Italy, I never took the time to examine the quality of the TER. Compared to the MARTA, with its urine-y aroma and plastic chairs complete with “I <3 Shayna” graffiti, this train was top of the line. Air conditioning flows freely from the side window panels. The seats are virtually stain-free and still have a supportive bounce. Trash is nowhere to be seen. Giant windows allow you to feast your eyes with the beautiful views of southern France. The two levels provide an abundance of seating choices. There is nothing like sinking into a blue TER chair after a long day of touring.
The one hour ride to Ventimiglia flies by. Our group discusses what we would like to do as soon as we get there. I look forward to practicing my Italian after taking a full year of classes. No one else on the trip knows any Italian, and I feel delighted knowing that I get to be a translator. There is never a moment during the short ride when I whispered a word of gratitude for the TER’s bright atmosphere. I am too busy sharing my excitement with my fellow travel-mates. We acknowledge that we couldn’t have picked a better group of people to go on a trip with. Gorgeous cliffs and luminous bodies of water catch our eyes and my heart skips with anticipation. This is going to make up for any instances of ugliness that had plagued me earlier on the trip. With our egos filled and wallets open, we step off the TER and enter a new country.
Second Train: Ventimiglia to Milano 6:50 PM
Venice! We’re going to Venice! Why the hell not?
It only took one hour in Ventimiglia for the group of us to come to the mutual decision that one Italian city is not enough. After exploring the charming markets, basking on the rocks of the Ventimiglian beach, and seeing nothing but smiles on the faces of the locals, there is no other option. We must delve deeper into the boot.
The second train is toasty—the bad kind of toasty. Forget ski lounge toasty and imagine being stuck in a latrine on a hot summer day…toasty. The males of our posse toss their shirts over their heads as the rest of us groan with a mix of disgust and jealousy. Small tables are situated between four chairs that face each other. A lid next to the window opens up to a trash can…or in my case…a temporary sandwich holder. The chairs are checkered blue with brown tinged headrest flaps. This is no TER.
The four hours begin with picture taking and end with delirious chanting and general silliness. Three of us make playing cards out of our unused, fake business cards. Despite the humid and dingy environment, we learn a lot about each other. As the trains get crappier, our fellowship grows tighter.
Third Train: Milano to Verona 12:15 AM
As we walk to our next train’s platform, two security workers inform us to get on the second car “for our safety.” On our way to the car we see that half of our train is pitch black. We question whether or not they meant the second car from their end or from the opposite side. The boys run toward us with McDonalds in hand, and we climb on a random lit car.
The seats are a close replication of the Ninja Rollercoaster at Six Flags. Thick, black plastic curves around the headrests. We were unsure if this was an attempt to hide oneself from the person seated next to them or if they served a higher purpose that we were never meant to learn. The armrests are fixed and destroy any hope of lying across two empty seats. Gone were the tables and sandwich holders. Our plans of sleeping are crushed, but our spirits are still high. One of the boys (we’ll go with “Bryce”) takes on the voice of an eighty-year-old woman with a delusional infatuation with Woodrow Wilson. We invest our creativity in a short film mocking The Real World. The green and blue striped seats provide a perfect backdrop to fake “confessionals.” Who needs sleep?
Fourth Train: Verona to Venice 4:50 AM
We need sleep. After a two hour layover in Verona, we decide that we will nap on the next train. The comprehension of what the next train actually consists of happens in slow motion. A hooded man hangs out the window of the only lit car. We keep walking in hopes of finding a decent car to sleep in. A station employee informs us that the last car is the only car we can stay in. Panic takes over. Is this the train that leads to our demise?
I guide the group up the train’s steps and slide a door open. A handful of people are sitting on the floor with their heads resting against the wall. There is a long row of closed rooms with numbers on them. None of the numbers match our tickets. I notice that each room has a group of sleeping passengers inside. They look so peaceful. I try to imagine what that feels like.
The lights burn my eyes and I slowly sink to the floor. This narrow hallway is going to be our place of rest for the next two hours. We shake our heads in disbelief. I lean over to the young stranger next to me and mutter, “Non mi piace questo treno.” He grins and nods in agreement. The remainder of the group awkwardly sits down and we begin to shuffle in search of comfort. Indian style is the only reasonable position. Sleep becomes a main priority, and stomachs and laps become headrests. Seven grown individuals are intertwined like a litter of newborn puppies.
As soon as we find a satisfying position, a woman approaches our cluster. An assortment of limbs blocks the path to the bathroom/exit. This is annoying. With a couple of slight movements, the woman is forced to hop through the obstacle course we have created. When two more people loom over us, we realize this isn’t going to work. “Bryce” moves outside of the door to create more room. We almost lose him when the exit door opens and he almost topples out.
I look at the mass we have generated and I have to laugh. Three weeks ago I had no idea who these people were. Now I’m using one of their butts as neck support while another one rests his head on my knee. I can’t be upset about our state of affairs. I realize I am going to remember this event for the rest of my life.
The train comes to a halt around seven A.M. I cup my hand to shade my eyes from the Venetian sunrise. The cool air wraps itself around our weary bodies. I stand on a bridge and smile. We’re in Venice.
Reflection
Some people might call this an unfortunate experience, but I refuse to see it that way. Those four trains did more than get us where we needed to go. I formed a solid connection with six other people who love adventure as much as I do. You get to know each person’s ticks and mannerisms. I am still amazed that we got along so well. I’m usually picky about friends, but each one of these individuals had something special to offer. I know. I’m getting mushy.
Instead of cursing the trains, I want to thank them. Thank you for letting me quench my thirst for exploration for little money. Thank you for inspiring gratitude for my privileged lifestyle. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to connect. Thank you for giving me a great story to tell.
Viva TrenItalia!
Monday, June 1, 2009
Was I Just in Italy?
What was going to be a weekend of day trips turned into a voyage to Venezia (Venice). Lindsey already wrote the entire time line of the trip, so I am going to copy and paste the main parts onto my blog. I'm still sick...it turned into a bacterial thing...so the less effort I have to muster the better.
MAY 29
11:00 - Meet up with everyone, plan on going to Ventimiglia, Italy (only an hour away) and come back to Monaco for a night in Monte Carlo.
11:45 - Catch the train to Ventimiglia with Lindsey, Chris, Jemma, Bryce, and Jonathon. Watch sadly as Luke is left while buying a (useless) ticket.
Lindsey mourns the loss of Luke
12:04 - Arrive in Ventimiglia! Wander our way over to an amazing, cheap, authentic Italian restaurant.
Ventimiglia is absolutely beautiful and so very Italian. I wasn’t expecting to almost hop into a different world when we came. Since the city is the very South Western border to France, I assumed it would have a little bit of French flare (read: the people would still be snobby). However, we were all pleasantly surprised by the warmth of the Ventimiglians. As we were eating, we were astounded by how nice our waitress was. She was patient with us and our broken French/my one year of Italian/sign language as we ordered a 9 Euro meal consisting of bread, pasta, a drink of choice, dessert, and coffee. What a good deal. And what a great experience - the waitress, she smiled! She found us endearing. I’m pretty sure she didn’t even spit in our food, which is a great concern of mine when going out to eat in France.
This is all important, trust me. This meal set the precedent for the following thirty-something hours.
It is at this restaurant that we decided to film a mock Real World over the course of our three day weekend.
It is also at this restaurant where we decide we love Italy so freaking much, why not just stay here for a day or so more? We made a pact to not go back to Juan-les-Pins, at least for the night, and to wind up somewhere further into the nation of Italy. This will be an adventure. None of us have anything that could be slightly helpful for backpacking (or pursing?) through Italy. This just adds to the adventure.
13:04 - Luke arrives in Ventimiglia. We inform him of our plan to stay in Italy. We also give him his character assignment for our Real World: Italia.
Now, we wander around Ventimiglia, which is known for its outdoor markets. It’s beautiful, the people are refreshingly nice – even when they hit on you, it’s all in a jesting, laid back, perfectly Italian manner… as opposed to the greasy, scumbag way of blowing air kisses from creepy old Frenchmen. Everyone buys a new shirt/dress (depending on gender) since we’ll be staying somewhere overnight. This was a very good decision.
14:45 - We reach the end of the market, which just so happens to overlook the breathtaking view of a rock beach. After exploring the beach, we all decide to get in the ocean. Jemma and Lindsey run back to the market to purchase a bathing suit (well, to purchase the closest, cheapest equivalent - spandex sports bras and underwear for ten euro). We swim around and lay out on the rocky beaches like iguanas for hours.
These hours are the happiest of my entire study abroad. We write on the rocks, reenact Baywatch scenes, come to the conclusion that Baywatch was very smart not to film on rocky beaches, lay out with the ocean lapping at our feet.
17:00 - We decide to pack up our things and head to the train station in order to plan (note that I use the term “plan” very loosely) our adventure. On the way, we grab essentials to our journey: chocolate, contact solution, deodorant. We are ready to go.
17:30 - The people at the train station are still very friendly, despite our constant questions of “and when does this train leave? and how much will that cost? and what about a train going here?”. This makes me love Italy even more, as anyone in France would have kicked us out of the information office by this point (you might argue, but it’s an information office. their job is to provide you with information. to this I will respond, but we’re in France. their jobs don’t really count).
After a good half hour of this intense research, we decide to go to Venice, via train, stopping in Milan and Verona. We are ecstatic.
19:30 - We get on our train to Milan. We have the entire cabin to ourselves. It’s very hot, and we wonder if it will be this hot in each of the trains. I wish that some future-seeing prophet would have told us that the temperature of the trains would be the least of our worries. But, like I said, we were the only ones on the train - no future-seeing prophets.
The guys stripped due to the heat
21:30 - After resting we begin to grow antsy. We’re halfway to Milan. Jemma, Jonathon, and myself have made playing cards out of business cards. I don’t know where Bryce and Luke are during this time. Chris and Lindsey discuss mutual acquaintances in his fraternity.
22:30 - We are mere minutes away from Milan. We have all gone crazy. We are making short films and singing about others. We are singing the theme song from Nickelodeon’s “Gulla Gulla Island”. It’s around this time that Bryce creates his alter-ego, Grandma. This will be essential to our happiness/the bane of our existence over the next eight hours.
23:00 - We arrive in Mulan. Yeah, Mulan. Like the Disney princess.
23:30 - We buy tickets to our connecting trains. Jonathon and Luke run off to McDonald’s and barely make it to the train on time. This stresses me out. Our train is not nearly as nice as the first one. We complain about its sketchiness and how the chairs are similar to the seats on the Ninja rollercoaster. This is concerning, but if the future-seeing prophet had been here he would have told us to shut up and enjoy seats while we still had them. Foreshadowing? Yes.
MAY 30
0:00 - It’s midnight.
0:45 - It’s now past midnight and we are filming our rendition of The Real World. Grandma Bryce shows up. So does British football fan Jonathon. I have not laughed this hard in a really long time. My words and retelling of the stories don’t even begin to capture the hilarity. So, we’ll have to wait until the videos are edited and uploaded.
2:20 - Verona! We have a two hour layover here, but we’ve already figured out how to kill time before even arriving. Verona is known as the setting for Romeo and Juliet, so there has to be some kind of awesome attractions, even at 2 in the morning. Also, Verona is a college town, so there has to be something open right now. We have already planned to find a place to sit down and enjoy the Shakespearean city.
2:23 - Mission failed. Verona is completely asleep. There are a few groups of teenagers walking around (every single one wearing a leather jacket. I kid you not), but other than that, this college town is severely deprived of a thriving nightlife… even on a Friday. It makes me miss Athens. It also makes me miss twenty-four hour restaurants, like Waffle House. I’m so hungry at this point that I would kill for a chocolate chip waffle. Or even just a chocolate chip.
Our choices are as follows: continue walking through Verona, or go back to the train station to join the sleeping homeless people. We choose the former.
3:15 - After walking around the silent town, we finally see the lights of a bar… called Bar Bra. Is this an oasis? By the name, is this a strip club? Are our sleepless minds playing tricks on us? When we walk into the bar and find that they serve food (“it IS possible!”) and not lapdances, I’m convinced it must be a dream, since it’s exactly what we were looking for.
4:00 - Bar Bra starts shutting down. That’s alright, we’ve got to get back to the train station, anyway. We take our time, as we have a few minutes to kill. We realize we look like idiots and Bryce looks like a homeless man, as he is carrying around an open beer bottle and wearing a tux jacket over his polo. We take pictures. Jonathon’s alter-ego comes out to play.
Favorite quote from this city:
“It’s so freaking boring here, no wonder Romeo and Juliet killed themselves… too soon?” - Morgan Pelligrino
4:35 - We are now staring at the train. We have not gotten on yet. We are shaking our heads in disbelief.
The train is overbooked, all of the rooms are full, people are hanging their heads out of the windows. There is a hallway approximately one and a half feet wide that we are expected to sit in during the next two hours.
Certainly this is not our train.
4:40 - This is our train.
Oh, crap. This is our train.
Bryce has adopted his homeless persona and is now sitting in the area that connects the two trains. For the next two hours, we will occasionally see his head pop up behind the glass door, bottle in hand, goofy smile on face (this is why I love Bryce). At some point, Morgan, Luke, and I (the only ones awake for the majority of the ride) come to the conclusion that he is no longer Bryce. Somewhere along the train ride he has turned into Kramer from Seinfield. I’m alright with this.
5:20 - Everyone has passed out like dominoes on top of one another. I have never felt this close to six human beings in my entire life. I cannot tell how it is physically possible that Chris is laying in my lap while Jemma and Jonathon are both in his lap. It just doesn’t make sense. Despite the foot traffic of passersby looking for the bathroom, everyone is dead asleep.
Except for Luke, Morgan and I, who find our delirious mindsets and the situation so hilarious that we cannot sleep. Also, Bryce could or could not be awake. I have moments where I wonder if he is even on the train anymore, as he could have easily rolled out of the door and into some random Italian city.
5:27 - Some man has B.O. so intense that when he walks by, his stench lingers in our hallway for at least twenty minutes. It is so bad that those of us awake (still only me, Luke, and Morgan) get out my Icy Hot and rub it on our noses.
5:29 - My nose is simultaneously icy and hot.
6:20 - On a stop shortly before Venice, people leave a train room open. Four of us hop into the room and share it with a mother and her two daughters.
For the next fifteen minutes, I get the closest thing to sleep that I’ve had all night. It’s a groggy state of slumber. I don’t know what language the family in the room with us is speaking, but I wish they’d shut up.
6:50 - The train comes to a stop. We sleepwalk into the train station in Venice. We get a little lost before even making it out of the station, despite the fact that it was a straight shot to the outside world.
6:55 - I am looking at a Venetian sunrise. It is spectacular.
More later...
And we're back. Everything above is from Lindsey's blog. Now I'm going to take over for the Venice part of the excursion.
The water is literally sparkling. I try to take everything in but I'm so sleep deprived that nothing matters. My main priority is finding a place to sleep. Jemma and I decide to search for a hotel while everyone else explores the city. But first things first...food.
7:30- Jemma and I go to a small bakery/caffe and order croissants and cappuccinos. The man asks us if we would like to sit and we nod eagerly. He then informs us that we would have to pay almost three euros extra to sit down. I have never heard of a place that requires you to pay extra to sit.
So we stand. It was awkward. I'm feeling like death at this point. I woke up with a sore throat on Friday morning and it has progressed into the painful swallowing point. The pharmacies open around 9, so we have an hour and a half to kill.
8:00- We continue our search for a place to stay. All of the hotels are expensive and won't let us check in till 11. We keep searching. After talking to the other group on the phone, we decide to meet at the Piazza San Marco.
8:30- Still no luck with the hotels.
9:00- I find an open pharmacy and try telling the man that my throat hurts. "Mi fa male la gola," I whisper. My voice is shot. He hands me some chewable tablets called "Gola Action." They don't help.
9:30- I'm falling asleep on a step next to the gondolas in the Piazza. The rest of the gang shows up on a water taxi. Jemma and I tell them about the one bedroom available in a hotel nearby. It would cost 20 euros each, but the room is tiny. At this point we are desperate. We go for it.
10:00- Jemma and I purchase the 140 euro room. The next challenge is to sneak five more people up to the room. I go outside and Lindsey and Chris follow me into the lobby. The man at the front desk stops me and says they can't go up there--only two people allowed in the room at a time. Crap.
I go upstairs and inform Jemma of the situation. We start to freak out. She goes downstairs and outside to meet the rest of the group as I try to relax for a few minutes on the bed. I feel miserable.
Alright, forget what time it was.
Luke and Bryce come up to the room (somehow) and tell us we need to cancel the room. This makes me feel a little awkward. We all go downstairs and the guys tell the front desk man that they are part of our group and they decided to leave today instead of tomorrow. The man doesn't give us a refund. They argue. I am embarrassed. We leave.
So that was a lot of money down the drain. Close to $200 US dollars.
I eat an amazing mushroom pizza.
We sit next to the water. Bryce wants to go to Henry's for a bellini (the place that originated the drink). I go inside with him and try some. It tastes like grapefruit juice. 15 euro grapefruit juice.
Lindsey and Chris decide to head to the trainstation. We say we'll meet up with them.
Somehow we get lost and end up walking around the entire city until we find the station.
The rides back were not as pleasant. Lindsey and Chris were nowhere to be found, so it's just five of us. I am sick as a dog. I have no voice. I have never been so happy to be back in JLP.
But what an adventure.
Thursday, May 28, 2009
Top 12 Films to See from Cannes
(According to indieWIRE)
(Not in any particular order)
The ones in bold are the ones I've seen. I know I talked about how awful Antichrist was, but the more I think about it...the more I realize how much it really affected audiences. Everyone was talking about it for days. Maybe it's just one of those films you have to see to really understand what everyone has been saying about it. The White Ribbon won the Palme d'Or this year. Only two people out of our huge group saw it and one of them fell asleep. I loved Dogtooth. I hope it comes to some of the art houses in the U.S.
We have to write an experiential paper for Kohn's class which basically means we pick one experience that we've had while staying in France and expand on it. I'm still unsure about what I would like to write about. I don't want to do anything cliche like the red carpet experience. I'm not even sure I want to write about the festival. I was thinking about the way this random group of students have been able to form great connections with no silly drama involved. Everyone gets along with everyone. I am always fascinated with how humans interact with one another. I've learned more about people on this trip than the movie business...and sometimes they overlapped.
Tonight we are doing a potluck dinner. Everyone is contributing. I bought ice cream toppings because I don't have a kitchen and I can't cook.
Here's a picture of my weird shower:
Pink Toilet Paper:
Talking Disemboweled Fox from Antichrist:
(Not in any particular order)
- Antichrist
- I Killed My Mother
- Enter the Void
- The White Ribbon
- Go Get Me Some Rosemary
- Dogtooth
- A Prophet
- Mother
- The Time That Remains
- Police, Adjective
- Vincere
- Like You Know It All
The ones in bold are the ones I've seen. I know I talked about how awful Antichrist was, but the more I think about it...the more I realize how much it really affected audiences. Everyone was talking about it for days. Maybe it's just one of those films you have to see to really understand what everyone has been saying about it. The White Ribbon won the Palme d'Or this year. Only two people out of our huge group saw it and one of them fell asleep. I loved Dogtooth. I hope it comes to some of the art houses in the U.S.
We have to write an experiential paper for Kohn's class which basically means we pick one experience that we've had while staying in France and expand on it. I'm still unsure about what I would like to write about. I don't want to do anything cliche like the red carpet experience. I'm not even sure I want to write about the festival. I was thinking about the way this random group of students have been able to form great connections with no silly drama involved. Everyone gets along with everyone. I am always fascinated with how humans interact with one another. I've learned more about people on this trip than the movie business...and sometimes they overlapped.
Tonight we are doing a potluck dinner. Everyone is contributing. I bought ice cream toppings because I don't have a kitchen and I can't cook.
Here's a picture of my weird shower:
Pink Toilet Paper:
Talking Disemboweled Fox from Antichrist:
Update
Without the festival going on I keep forgetting to update my blog. But I'm alive. I promise. Classes take up my whole day. I kind of miss the freedom of the festival. It's hard to believe that this trip is almost over. I had a dream I was back home last night and I felt sad. I missed the city life. I'm looking forward to seeing family and friends, but I hate the suburbs.
Tomorrow we get to do our own traveling for the weekend. I think a few of us are going to take day trips around the south of France. That way we don't have to deal with getting a hostel and paying hundreds of dollars for plane or train tickets.
It's so beautiful outside and I'm sitting in the classroom. I'm looking forward to exploring for the next few days.
Monday, May 25, 2009
First Day of Official Class
So Cannes is over. Classes have begun. I'm still sick. La dee da.
A few of us were chosen to read our reviews in front of the class, and I had to read my Misfortunates one. That was sort of neat, but I think that was probably my best review. I don't expect to read my others.
I did laundry at the confusing laundry place. The instructions were not very clear and the options on the machines didn't make much sense.
I also managed to make it to the grocery store and got a few things like Nutella and bread. I have paid for crappy meals the past two nights, so I'm probably going to eat in for the next couple of days. I thought my pizza was supposed to have artichokes on it, but instead it had anchovies. Not so good. I made a work of art, though:
Last night, a few of us shared some escargot, which I enjoyed:
Red Carpet Premiere of Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus:
George and I in front of the Palme d'Or inside the Grand Lumiere
Tonight is another night of review writing. This upcoming weekend is a three day one and we get to travel. I'm still unsure where I want to go. Some people are going to Florance and some are taking a couple day trips arond the South of France. Either way, it's going to be pricey. I would like to see Italy and practice my Italian, though. We'll see.
A few of us were chosen to read our reviews in front of the class, and I had to read my Misfortunates one. That was sort of neat, but I think that was probably my best review. I don't expect to read my others.
I did laundry at the confusing laundry place. The instructions were not very clear and the options on the machines didn't make much sense.
I also managed to make it to the grocery store and got a few things like Nutella and bread. I have paid for crappy meals the past two nights, so I'm probably going to eat in for the next couple of days. I thought my pizza was supposed to have artichokes on it, but instead it had anchovies. Not so good. I made a work of art, though:
Last night, a few of us shared some escargot, which I enjoyed:
Red Carpet Premiere of Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus:
The crowd at the premiere from inside the Grand Lumiere
George and I in front of the Palme d'Or inside the Grand Lumiere
Tonight is another night of review writing. This upcoming weekend is a three day one and we get to travel. I'm still unsure where I want to go. Some people are going to Florance and some are taking a couple day trips arond the South of France. Either way, it's going to be pricey. I would like to see Italy and practice my Italian, though. We'll see.
Sunday, May 24, 2009
Feeling the Heat
Greetings. It is 88 degrees.
I have been busy the past few days with a cough. Friday we met with Michael Phillips of the Chicago Tribune and he gave us some tips on how to write reviews. He also told our teacher to make our reviews shorter. Right on, Mr. Phillips!
That night I got into the premiere of Terry Gilliam's The Imaginarium of Dr. Parnassus. It was Heath Ledger's last film. It was so-so. I had mixed feelings. Overall, I thought it was a weak movie. Nothing special. I'm about to write my next review on it.
Afterward, everyone went to the pub to sing karaoke, but I was feeling too sick to stick around.
I was forced to move out of my room b/c of a complication with reservations, but I get to move back in today (I think...I hope). Yesterday, I went to the beach for a while and hung around JLP trying to rest.
And today is the last day of the festival. Tonight they are showing Coco Chanel and then the closing ceremonies. We're going to head over there early to eat dinner for Lindsey's birthday. I'm at the Best Western trying to get started on my next film review, but I'm still feeling a little ill. It's really hot in here.
It's weird that the festival is almost over. I'm not sure how I feel about it. In a way I'm glad because it's been stressful and draining, but I think I'll miss it.
That's all for now.
I have been busy the past few days with a cough. Friday we met with Michael Phillips of the Chicago Tribune and he gave us some tips on how to write reviews. He also told our teacher to make our reviews shorter. Right on, Mr. Phillips!
That night I got into the premiere of Terry Gilliam's The Imaginarium of Dr. Parnassus. It was Heath Ledger's last film. It was so-so. I had mixed feelings. Overall, I thought it was a weak movie. Nothing special. I'm about to write my next review on it.
Afterward, everyone went to the pub to sing karaoke, but I was feeling too sick to stick around.
I was forced to move out of my room b/c of a complication with reservations, but I get to move back in today (I think...I hope). Yesterday, I went to the beach for a while and hung around JLP trying to rest.
And today is the last day of the festival. Tonight they are showing Coco Chanel and then the closing ceremonies. We're going to head over there early to eat dinner for Lindsey's birthday. I'm at the Best Western trying to get started on my next film review, but I'm still feeling a little ill. It's really hot in here.
It's weird that the festival is almost over. I'm not sure how I feel about it. In a way I'm glad because it's been stressful and draining, but I think I'll miss it.
That's all for now.
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