Adiós y Venga Conmigo

So I’ve been back in the States since July 5th—means it’s about time to wrap up this whole European adventure bit, huh? I mean, it’s been long enough and I’ve had enough time to just enjoy being back that I think I can take the time to reflect on everything that’s happened since I last posted here. I apologize for my procrastination, but on the plus side checking in now gives you almost a summer’s worth of highlights in a few posts.

Read More

The sad thing about blogging while abroad, especially when you’re gone for such a short time, is that you experience so many amazing things in such a short period of time that, to fairly describe them all, you’d have to spend most of your day writing. While I love to write, I made the decision to soak in the culture and worry about reflecting on it later. So, since we just ate a huge meal and this afternoon is a textbook definition of lazy, here goes. Hang on, readers. The ride starts now.

Read More

So, as is my nature, I’ve been heavily procrastinating when it comes to blog posts. I’ve been in Spain for almost a week and haven’t even touched on that… So, here’s a quick one post summary of Rome.

We started off having to deal with the Rome airport, which was a bit f a rude awakening compared to Venice. It’s loud, there’s lots of people, and baggage takes forever (17 minutes, or 8 rotations of the belt. There was one bag that just kept going around…).

Then for the train to figure out where our host in Rome’s house was, which was pretty easy until we got to the station. We had to walk through his neighborhood a bit to find it, but eventually we tracked it down and fortunately it was very close to the train station. Turns out he is a film director (he has a Wikipedia page!), so that was pretty cool. He also let us use his kitchen, so we got to experience an Italian grocery store and the struggle to light his gas stove without singing the eyebrows/curtains.

Our place was well located though, only a 10 minute tram ride to the center of town. On day one, we got a lot of sightseeing in…

Piazza Navona


The pantheon (impossible to get a picture of, due to size)


Fontana di Trevi


Burger King (only for the disgusting, scarring bathroom)


The Spanish Steps


The giant monument to the founder of modern Italy that is so terrible (apparently) that the guidebooks skip over it.


Our first dinner (home to the best meal I’ve ever had, or at least the best pizza)








The coliseum and Roman Forum (which is expansive and, therefore, hard to get a picture of).


And the best view in Rome, which is hiding through the keyhole of this door. I won’t spoil the surprise of what it’s of, though.


And then, on our last day, the Vatican and Vatican Museums (including the Sistine Chapel), at night to cap off our trip. Overall, it was a total blast and an awesome trip with Michele. Heading off to study abroad was difficult, but Spain is shaping up to be awesome so expect more stories soon!

Subtitle: The friendship bracelet men of Paris and the bagmen of Venice.

If you’re a tourist, the world wants to sell you things. Usually, the things you really want are the ones you have to find, not those that find you.

Example #1: Paris. Everywhere we went, there was somebody who wanted to sell us something. Whether it was a round of three card monty (yes, people are still falling for that in Paris), friendship bracelets (a scam we had heard about in real life! These guys were the pushiest, blocking your way and trying to put the bracelet on your hand to force you to buy it), or the deaf mute children (sign our petition because we can’t speak, except to ourselves and when we think nobody’s watching!), their living was based off of making tourists uncomfortable and shoving things in their faces. Best solution? Walk past them, mutter no (or, even better, niet like in Russian, as that seemed to scare them?), and worst case wave your hand like you’re killing the conversation. They typically get the message.

Example #2: The bagmen of Venice (and Italy, it turns out). These guys were fascinating, purveyors of knockoff designer handbags for the ladies, pigs that, when thrown against the ground, turned momentarily into a puddle of goo then resumed their previous shape and gumby like creatures that made funny faces for the kids, and Ray-Bam sunglasses for all ages. They sold these same things everywhere. Everywhere. All throughout Rome and Venice. But they weren’t selling them legally. We were walking past them (fortunately, if you don’t look interested, they ignore you) once and, as though the bat signal had just appeared in the sky, they snatched up all of their wares, threw them into bags and sheets, and took off like gazelles being hunted. If they sold purses, they carried them over their shoulders: over 20 bags on some people. They looked scared, some on their phones yelling in different languages, others hiding behind statues and then running up alleyways. But why?

Then they appeared: the customs police. Not just your local beat cops but the heavy hitters. And they meant business, if you trust the scared looks on the vendors faces. Someone had sent up the bat signal, and now they were fleeing. But their flight left me with two big questions: how did they smuggle so much merchandise off of an island? And where did the bags come from?

Answer to question one: Garbage bags.
Answer to question two: I would have to wait for Rome for this one (they sell the bags everywhere. Everywhere). Turns out they have local sponsors (read: large, chain smoking white guys in minivans packed to the brim with contraband) that sell them things cheap in return for a share of the profits. It’s like drugs, I would imagine.

Regardless, watching the counterfeit vendors do their thing was interesting and provided a sub current throughout the trip. Even though they have to pack up at a moments notice, it’s interesting that they can even operate in public, when you don’t see them at all in the US.