DAY 100: Adam's Breasticles

What better place to continue the Voyage of Blondage than on the 100th day... apologies for the extended hiatus... too much to see and do to keep the peeps in the know daily... so here we go, on the road again!

I woke up with a smile on my face, gave myself a hearty pat on the back, congratulating myself on surviving 100 days across the pond. I celebrated with ol' reliable: corn flakes, yogi and 2 large cups-o-Italian joe, which funny enough, translates to Pepe... so after a few mugs-o-Pepe we took the short bus into Perugia to tour the Academy of Art, transferring in Ellorah and grabbing a cappuccino at the awkwardly famous landmark KISSKISS bar. After checking out the photography studio, anatomy drawing room (NAKED! said in the BACON! dog food commercial voice) and interupting a printmaking class, we realized that art students in Italy don't do a whole lot different than American art students... except maybe smoke cigs IN the classroom. We then all agreed to visit the medieval gardens, joined hands and walked through the city like a train of Kindergartners... J.J. and I were not diggin' the adolescent treatment and got caught up in photographing back alleys. We both kinda' march to the beat of our own drum, so to speak, because neither of us play drums, and (shockingly) got seperated from the group... thank newborn Baby Jesus for my new and improved navigational skills because we found the gardens 20 leisurely minutes later. We met Jeff and Rosella, and once the gang showed up all freaked out and pissed off after a 45 minute scavenger hunt for BIG & little, we slapped smiles on one another and listened to Rosella give us a brief (not so brief) history of the gardens. After some splendor in the grass and outrageous views of the countryside courtesy of an ancient stone wall lookout, we nestled into the zodiac garden and zenned out with our brown bags... an apple, an orange, a banana and some ham (of course passing on the 2 white bread loaves with one slice of bolognia each... I miss my turkey, swiss and avo sandos)- doesn't get much more random than that! Sunshine and chillaxation does not motivate one to get amped for an archeological museum, but when you have no choice... you fake ampedism and go with the flow. So there we were, bored to death, sitting in front of trojan pillars, bitching about not being outside in the glorious Italian warmth... rough, rough life. (I sicken myself at times...)

After a long day of art in Perugia, I bought my train ticket for a jaunt to the Dolomites this weekend since this Icelandic volcano has been doing a real number on Euro travel... the airlines have lost millions, but the train lines are making bank as it is the only means of transportation from country to country, thus making stations SNAFU. Delightful. Can't wait. We ventured back to the villa on our token short bus that is just one more piece of transportation I've developed a love hate relationship for... this morning I hated it because I was shoved under Guiseppi's armpit with 67 other people (cattle car)... but this evening, it lent some glorious humor: TRANNY ON BOARD, Whoo Whoooo! Holy botched lip injections, someone's headlights are on!  Let me paint you a pretty little picture of "Candy"... this WO-man was bigger than me (believe it or not), Adam's apple and breasticles included, with a Cat Woman inspired facelift (scars visible in between hair plugs) that made Joan Rivers look old and wrinkly. I wanted to ask her/him: "Did you look at that tank top before you put it on this morning thinking it would fit, or did you put it on in 2007 when it fit, pre-breast enhancement?" Tig-ol'-Bittys! He/she must've been smuggling raisins because it was a sauna in the stink wagon and the clincher was when a brotha' from Uganda boarded and I saw absolute fear in his big white eyes, like two eggs sunny-side up in an iron skillet. The visual of "Candy," the girls (and boys) giving "Boitumelo" the up-down is unfortunately burned in my memory. I lost it when he/she exited the pit of arm on wheels and in a sassy Nicholas Cage whisper said, "Scusi un attimo." HIL-arious. Once my inner giggle got a grip, we bolted in Corciano to stop by the grocery for fresh strawberries (whole basket for 1 Euro!)... Jeff was in the mood to celebrate the publication of his 10 page photo-journalism spread in Hot Rod magazine, so we snagged a bottle of Prossecco as well. We sat out in the courtyard, under the setting Umbrian sun, sharing stories, strawberries and laughs. Bebe made us frittatas for dinner with the asparagus Mikele and friends "caught" yesterday and we all merrily ate and drank the evening away, letting the stress of upcoming final projects float away in the fits laughter and cool evening breeze. Why worry in Italy when you can sit outside at 11:30 at night with a glass of Montepulciano d'Abruzzo with friends, talking about upcoming weekend travel plans?  I can't think of a single reason... until tomorrow, ciao ciao ciao....

DAY 95,96,97,98 & 99: BACKWOODS BARBIE!

And we’re on in 5, 4, 3, 2 and “Hello and welcome back to Blond Voyage… apologies for the brief interruption… those damn Icelandic volcanoes are really doing a number on transportation- even via the world wide web and my fingertips.” Oy Vey! Skittish Yiddish?

Speaking of the number 5… these are days 95, 96, 97, 98 & 99…. I know! Where has the time gone AND how can I slam FIVE whole days in Europe into one blog? Simply unfathomable I tell you, but I’m gonna do it… don’t hate me (trust me, it’s not that exciting).

So there we were, at the little villa that could… Corciano, a.k.a. the town of 81 residents- all of which have traveled at least 81 planetary revolutions- corn flakes and sugar ants (contrary to Ricky Steves I'm sure)…

95: Friday. No Class. Slept in. Cornflakes. Yogi. Honey. Coffee. Mother’s Birthday. Researched Portugal. Googled sugar ants’ nutritional value. Threw up in my mouth a little. Ate salad for lunch. Spiced it up with cucumber. Whoo. Hoo. Visited KTM motorcycle store in Ellora to blow the stink off. Uneventful. Stopped at PAM grocery store on the way back. Shopped for the rest of the group for the weekend. Never doing that again. Bibi made asparagus frittatas with the wild asparagus Mikele *caught. Eat 4 saltines and try saying that 4 times fast! L.A.Z.Y.D.A.Y.

*Mikele goes out in the fields and “catches” wild asparagus… really cute the way he suggests that you actually hunt, chase and nab these stalks. Very hard to find actually, you must be a seasoned aspagunter.

96: Saturday. Cornflakes. Yogi. Orange. Banana. Coffee. New appreciation for breakfast. New concept for tall blond. Spent morning booking, negotiating, researching, requesting, surfing, budgeting (and by budgeting I mean having my people contact the IRS and Chase Mastercard’s people to see how slammed they are for the next 365 days …), my travels for the final 30 days of Blond Voyage, brought to you by Jenny Craig. Speaking of, only eating fruits and veggies, sans booze for the next 2 weeks… starting yesterday. Hilarious, I know. Ate healthy food for dinner (carrots, cucumber, tuna). Watched “Twightlight: New Moon.“ Horrifyingly horrific film. Kicked myself for admitting that I wasted 120 minutes of my life on Bloodmania. Made up for it by watching “Pride & Prejudice”- all time fav. Nighty-night.

97: Sunday-Funday! Cornflakes. Yogi. Banana. Coffee. You’re never going to eat yogurt again are you? Sorry. Convinced that I sleep on the most uncomfortable bed in all of Umbria. “La principessa ed il pisello.” You can figure that one out. Went on a 4 mile run/hike/somethingorother through the woods. Passed a frog pond. Dropped into a quarry. Yes a quarry. Trapped by barbwire and electric fences. Should’ve gotten arrested. Literally climbed (all 4’s) up a hill to a drainage ditch that led to private property. Hopped a few fences and found myself in Migiana. Grateful I grew up in Montana, which taught me how to “navigate” barbed wire and electrical fencing. Stretched it out by the castle. Bouldered the castle walls for awhile. Realized how weak my arms are. Instantly distracted by the sun setting over the valley. Realize why all the painting “greats” are from Italy- the sky is unlike any other. Mixed carrots, cucumber, plain yogurt and tuna fish together for dinner. Mmmm. Watched “Up In The Air.” Thank you and good night.

98: Monday. SURPRISE! Not. Corn flakes. Yogi. Banana. Coffee. Was asked when I knew I wanted to be an artist. Answered, “3 years old, when I mistook a jar of paint thinner for 7-Up and chugged it without any side effects such as death (sanity is debatable)- I knew I was destined.” Got me thinking what my passions in life are. Pin pointed the obvious: Art. Writing. Design. Being. Creative. Contemplated how to make millions with those talents. The words “struggling artist” whispered to me from a distance. Sounded like my father's voice. Decided my word of the day is: BEGONIA. Decided, “with everything in life, there is a balance,” and “out of nothing, comes something.” Felt inspired. Looked at my bank account. Instantly lacked inspiration. Did some tai chi after class- archer, move-the-boulder, bear-waiter, you know, the usual. Storm rolled in. FAT raindrops. Attended a FABULOUS Photo Shop clinic. Learned more in 45 minutes than I’ve ever learned in 45 minutes. Re-inspired. Drew a portrait of my cousin on her wedding day. Went to bed late.

99: Tuesday. Corn flakes. Yogi. Banana. Coffee. Duh. Drawing Critique. Went on a tour of the neighbor’s house (castle). Kinda’ messy. Lots of pigeon sh!t. Had salad for lunch. Pigeon shit and salad don’t sound appetizing together do they? No. They don’t. Spent the afternoon writing and snipping loose ends on end-of-April-showers-bringing-May-travel-plans. Went on a longgggggg run. Blew off steam. Started to research for my final paper. Lasted 2 minutes before I started editing photos. Have no idea what time I went to bed.

Tomorrow is DAY 100!!! Sh!t-the-bed, Fred! What a trip… 40 more to go… W.O.W… Ciao for now!

DAY 93: GunsN'Glasses

"If you're going to San Marino

Be sure to wear some clean underwear

If you're going to San Marino

You're gonna eat some caciatello there

For those who come to San Marino

Semi-automatics are 20% off there

In the streets of San Marino

Ray Ban wearing Italians sit and stare

All across the station such a strange little nation

Don’t cause a commotion

There's enough ammunition to create an explosion

Up all the stairways are people in motion

For those who come to San Marino

Be sure to handle merchandise with care

If you come to San Marino

You don’t want to spend your final days there

If you come to San Marino

Springtime is neither here nor there"

Abraham Lincoln once said, “Despite being so small, your state is one of the most honored countries of the whole history.” San Marino is considered one of the smallest countries in the world. It is located on the western coast of Italy, on top of Mount Titano. It’s constitution is the worlds oldest constitution still in effect, making it one of the wealthiest countries in the world, with the lowest unemployment rate in Europe and no national debt…. Which makes sense when 29,000 of its 30,000 inhabitants sell handguns, sunglasses, watches and jewelry sans tax with an extra 20% off. Need a pistol and olive oil? Take a drive to San Marino and ride the gondola to the top of the hill. Which is what we did, on a short bus, at 6am this morning…

Cornflakes and strawberries for breaky before a nauseous 2 hour ride to the “land of shopping.” We had the whole day to photograph and explore, so I took off solo and checked out the 3 towers, dating back to the 11^th century! There were more stairs to climb than there are short men in Italy, and I was ridiculously sore from doing P90X… no sudden movements. After climbing to the top of the first tower at a glacial pace, I made my way across the little valley, through town to the next… checking out leather, jewelry and gun shops. Didn’t really check out the gun shops, but they maintained the majority of storefronts… it was like shopping at Cartier and Cabelas on the same block. I wasn’t aware there were Italian rednecks, but now I know… after a few hours of meandering, I was in dire need of a salad, since out packed lunch consisted of bread, crackers, bread and cake wrapped in plastic… good bye paper sack, hello Ristorante Titano. I went with a chef salad, which was enormous had a fabulous arrangement of fennel, tomatoes, carrots, radishes, olives, peppers, tuna, mozzarella and cucumbers. I was in fresh produce heaven… I sat and wrote with a cup of Earl Grey for 2 hours before meeting up with the group. I was lacking creative motivation and energy and it started to rain and I just wasn’t feelin’ it.

Back to the villa in time for dinner… some cabbage salad and fish before I started editing photos for the evening. My time is winding down here at Villa Pieve- I only have 2 weeks left in Italy! Stay tuned for an exciting week in Corciano… ciao for now!

DAY 90, 91, 92: "Just keep swimming..."

90: The last day of Spring Break… Sunday at the villa. Couldn’t sleep in so I got up and grabbed some breaky. I believe they left the coffee sitting out all week, because it tasted like paint thinner…. I spiced up some corn flakes with a sprinkling of muesli, and as I was taking my last few bites, I looked down to see my cereal moving. [insert Jaws theme song… now] Attack of the sugar ANTS! Those little mother truckers had snuck into ALL of my food during the week and were having a Spring Break of their own in Fiber Heaven, except for the ones swimming laps in my warm cereal milk. I got my protein in for the day- better than maggots or something disgustingly awful like that. Needless to say, I had a terrific start to my day that comprised of researching and planning the last month of Blond Voyage while watching the rain pour down outside. I ate tuna fish and crackers for lunch and an apple with ant free muesli for dinner. Excitement was bursting out of Sunday-Funday’s seams… no it wasn’t. And because it wasn’t, I’m going to include a few more days worth of uneventful events to compile this blog…

91: Monday Monday… yogi, corn flakes and a banana- a new staple and necessity in my diet. Took a mug-o-(fresh) coffee to class and edited photos all morning. Lunch comprised of salad and salad. I threw in a load of laundry before an afternoon of more photo editing. (You know your day is dull when you talk about doing laundry…) After class I let Tony Horton turn me into a noodle during a P90X Legs & Back workout- I probably won’t be able to get out of bed tomorrow. I worked on some projects for clients at home and joined the group for dinner to have a stare-off with my pasta…

92: Tuesday… ding ding ding! You guessed it- corn flakes with yogi and an apple! We drew portraits in class all morning, focusing on the eyes… I haven’t drawn people's faces in a longgggg time, but it’s like riding a bike… kind of. Salad for lunch followed by another portrait session (drew each other this time vs. magazines) in the afternoon… I went on a 5 mile run up through Corciano to the edge of Ellora and back. I’ve absolutely fallen in love with the scenery here… my runs are my favorite part of my day- everything is starting to bloom, including one of my fav’s: lilacs. Olive trees are growing upward and outward, and vineyard buds are slowly poking their heads out… “Summer? Is that really you?” I’ve learned the “Oldies of Corciano” outing schedules, and pass them with a familiar smile and “Buona Sera.” I’ve also mastered the “sneak-by” past the house on the hill with FOUR German Shepherds that I fear will chew through chain link any day now… I’ve successful slipped by the front yard without waking the beasts. Returning just in time for dinner… pass on the pasta, thanks for the fish. I am still baffled how Italians eat 3 solid courses at dinner… pasta, potatoes and bread, one of which is usually fried, EVERYDAY. Nightmare-ish really… I’m getting ready for a shift in cultural cuisine… tomorrow we are headed to San Marino- the smallest country in the world! Stay tuned… ciao!

DAY 89: L7-Dsquared

Apologies for this every other day business… blogging + 15 page paper on Florentine Art = One Busy Blond!

My last morning in Ibiza went a little something like this:

Up at 8 am. Breakfast downstairs involved great coffee, orange juice and an apple. Walked to town for a Big Gulps latte. Scanned mags at a nearby newsstand to kill time. Grabbed Roo, checked out and walked to the bus stop across town.  Took the #10 bus to the airport…

While munching on muesli around 1pm in the airport, “Psycho Dave” decided to chat me up… he AND his stunna’ shades, hunter cargos tucked into his high top kicks and his pot belly that poked out under his Dsquared t-shirt. This dude was tripping balls- he kept asking me questions to which I barely responded in my best-disinterested tone. His feet were tap-tap-tappin’ to the song in his head and his twitches made the whole row of seats jerk, after I told him my name was “Sarah” for the 12^th time, he grabbed his Louis Vuitton carry-on and ran- literally ran to the gate… even though they had just announced that our flight was delayed an hour. He skipped back to the area we’d taken over to inform us the flight was delayed (thanks, Dave) and chatted up the other girls when I closed my eyes. If I can’t see him, he can’t see me, right? After sitting around for 2 hours, I started to wish I could take a unicorn ride in Dave’s superlative state of mind. We finally boarded, but only after Dave pissed off the stewardess enough that she took her anger out on all the other passengers, specifically me, requiring Roo to eat my purse since I was only allowed one bag. There were 30 people on a 737… I think there’ll be enough room.

Back in Rome, we took a 4 Euro bus at 5:15pm to Roma Termini through horrible traffic- I was convinced we would crush every Smart Car we stopped behind- you couldn’t slide a credit card between bumpers… Four Non Blondes was the only thing that made the stop and go bearable. Made it to the train station… ran into a grocery store for some dinner items (salad, cheese and salami) when Jessie told us a woman in the ticket office told her we could catch a faster train if we ran… so run we did, barely making it onto the fart coffin FULL of people.

Two hours later we arrived in Foligno where we were to catch the next train to Perugia… but unfortunately, the woman in the ticket office didn’t inform Jessie that the trains to Perugia don’t run on Saturdays… if I had a dollar for every time I’ve received news such as this in the last 3 months, I’d have this trip paid off. SO, after finding/asking a EuroStar employee what our options were- a bus at 10:40pm… it was 8pm. Fan-cake-tastic… let’s see what Foligno’s all about, it shouldn’t take more than 2 hours! We parked around a table in a resto and ordered 2 liters of red wine. And Kate ordered French fries. Unenthusiastic were we! The act of killing time offers zero pride nor a sense of accomplishment… Dislike button for the feeling of, wanting to get home, but can’t. And it’s not even “real home!”

10:45pm: Bus departs Foligno train station.

11:13pm: Twelve eighth graders, all hording Heinekens, board the bus.

11:14pm: Italian yelling and drunken singing ensues.

11:56pm: Adolescent sobriety is no where to be found

12:17am: Whit’s patience and temper are tested.

12:19am: Whit about looses it just as the bus arrives in Perugia.

12:25am: We realize our only way home now is a taxi. We say fruitcake and cough up 25 Euros to get to the villa.

Long duck-dong day. Just when you think a simple flight and train ride will be a snooze, 12 hours of delay and dismay later. you throw your exhausted body into bed, with your shoes on. Home semi-sweet home! More from Corciano later, ciao!

DAY 86, 87, 88: Silver Badgers

Ibitha, Thpain PART II:

Ibiza is the 3^rd largest of the Balearic Islands, off the southern coast of Spain, known for summer club parties. Umbrellas in drinks being drunk under umbrellas by tanned topless touristas flirting with fellow foxy foreigners… sounds like a blast to me! Too bad it’s April 7^th…

86: Jumped out of bed at 9:30am, ready to conquer the day… blasted 4 miles on the beach and came back to cut up an apple and a banana, throw it in a bowl with some yogurt and call it breakfast. The gang walked up to Ibitha Town, while I stayed to hang by the pool and listen to my own thoughts… until “Horus & Borus,” the British silver-badgers (not foxy) pranced out with their matching striped beach towels and semi-mullets. They assessed the “scene” with hands-on-hips before nestling in side-by-side in their beach chairs, hand-in-hand. Precious moments… soon interrupted by a young girl walking into the (freezing) pool, popping a squat and peeing! Right in front of her mother (who probably told her to do it)… definitely the Mexi-Reno of Spain. Clouds started to roll in, and the entertainment died down, so I walked into town to check out some stores and grab a latte. A few hours later I walked back to make some dinner- lentils with zucchini, garlic, ham and eggs... not bad considering my ingredients… I would dominate Iron Chef Espana. We played Presidents & Assholes (drinking card game) late into the evening…

87: Slept in and walked to town for a fatty coffee- possibly the best part of Ibitha! Walked in and out of shops all morning- a lot of cute little places… very touristy of course, but I found some gemstones and met some cool storeowners. At 2pm I realized I hadn’t eaten yet (God forbid!) and stopped at a posh resto called Central Park 53. I sat alone, in the empty dining room for 1 of 4 reasons: 1-it’s siesta, so everyone is taking their mid-day nap. 2-I'm a loser. 3- the place just opened so maybe people didn’t know they were open. 4- because Toni Braxton music videos were being played on repeat on the  TV’s lining the walls. Call me crazy, but I’m going with numero tres… “You Mean The World To Me” was barely tolerable in 1993.  I was convinced “Todd” the owner, who also waited on me, had heterosexual affections for Toni, and this was something new and different for him. FABULOUS! What was even more fabulous was the gazpacho served in a champagne flute followed by shrimp and veggie wok… great chef, but I’m sure he wanted to blow his brains out when “Todd” hit repeat on the DVD player. I hung out and wrote for another hour before walking back to lay by the pool. We watched “Taken” and “The Dark Knight” before hitting the hay. Another rough day on the island…

88: Up at 9:30 to put in my last 6 mile run on the beach… apple and yogurt for breaky before walking into town with the crew for coffee. Pursued a bit before heading back to the pool… just as I was falling asleep in 70 degrees, Jessie came down to inform me “We need you.” Apparently the hotel only had us booked through Friday instead of Saturday, and the “helpful” woman at the front desk was demanding/wondering why we weren’t out of our rooms.  Because I handle confrontation so lightly and willingly, the girls voted I should figure this "situation" out. Short story long, when the initial reservation was changed from 5 to 6 people, they subtracted a day in the 2nd reservation, which we never caught/checked, since naturally, we assumed they would keep the same dates. Well, they didn’t and we had 5 minutes to pack our sh!t and boogie… I walked down the street from hotel to hotel asking if they had availability and got a whole lot of “We booked full through Abril.” Finally, behind a pizzeria was a hostel that had rooms- which can be a total gamble, but I figured what the hell, it’s this or the bus station. Turns out, this place was WAY better than ghetto fabulous palace down the street that smelled like urine, refused to give us soap and had lumpy pillows. P.S. “Lumpy” and “pillow“ should never be in the same sentence together, ever.  We rated it a third of a star out of 5… after checking out, checking in and dropping our junk off, cold brewskies were what needed to happen next- no questions asked. We came across a cheap little grocery store, made our adult beverage purchases and headed to the beach.  A few hours in the sun and sand with drink in hand worked up an appetite, so we found a great bistro close by with the best meal we’ve all had in weeks, served by Johnny Depp and Colin Farell. I ordered Dolmas- grape leaves stuffed with Ratatouille over Mediterranean couscous and fresh tzatziki sauce- Ta'Die. Instead of dessert, we celebrated our last night in Ibitha with martinis and shots of homemade Absinthe, courtesy of Johnny and Colin. Back to our nice little hostel with a great last day behind us. Returning to Rome and on to Corciano tomorrow, ciao!

DAY 82, 83, 84, 85: Baked Blubber

Ibiza, Spain: PART I

Unfortunately the most “exciting” days, are travel days i.e. things go wrong… so I’ll be doing Spring Break in Ibiza in two parts. So there we were…

82: In Rome. Up at 8:30 to check out and grab “American” breakfast across the street… I can’t seem to pull myself away from yogurt, granola and fresh fruit. I’d say it will be the death of me, but that doesn’t really make sense since actually vitalizes you… we left the boys (who were struggling with their up-chuck reflexes) and walked to Roma Termini, best-known station for pickpockets. We just barely made the train to the Ciampano airport- or so we thought… turns out it drops you on the outskirts, and you have to wait for a shuttle to take you to your gate, and of course we just missed the last shuttle. Our only choice was a taxi, which was fine with me because little “Giorgio” said the tall blond doesn’t have to pay. An hour later we were checked in, through security and ready to board our full RyanAir flight to Ibitha, Thpain! One thing I’ve noticed about Italians (besides their “entitlement”) is that they never wear shorts, nor would they be caught dead in them. It was a nice day, and we were in skirts and shorts and they sneered at us like we kicked their miniature toy poodle. Weird.

An hour and a half later we arrived in Ibitha, waited for a 3 Euro bus for 30 minutes that looped us through ramshackled neighborhoods and ethnic food stands. I felt like I was on a bus in Mexico again, except this one had air conditioning and no visible weaponry. After 20 minutes of dreadful B.O. and babies screaming in Spanish, we got off and walked another 15 minutes to our hotel. Relieved and ready to relax, we checked in… wait, no we didn’t, because they didn’t have a RESERVATION for us! Kate immediately got online to show this extremely unhelpful woman our proof of purchase… she, in a rather peevish manner, found a couple vacant rooms (this place was desolate mind you) and finally handed over room keys.

After settling in, 3 to a room, we sat by the pool for a bit before embarking on a grocery mission. Easter weekend in Spain is similar to Italy- NOTHING is open… we found a super random grocery where I purchased ham, eggs, Gouda, salsa, tuna, pickles, instant chicky-noodle soup, salsa, green beans and yogurt. I know, yum right? On our way back we found a Kabob resto and decided to see if it compared to Florence’s “Istanbul.” Not quite, but it hit the spot nonetheless over a couple beers and people watching. Back to the apartment to snuggle in, watch “Whip-It” and play cards.

83: Slept in until 9:30am. Got up to brush teeth. Went back to bed until 11am. Made a ham and cheese omelet with salsa. Laid by the pool. Had ZERO motivation to do anything. Around 5pm we mustered up enough energy to walk to a pizzeria/bar for a few beers. Sat outside, in the wind. Not tropical weather. Not happy about it. 2 shots of tequila warmed us right up. Stopped in an Indian market- dot, not feather. Reminisced about all the fabulous food I ate in France. Bought some cereal, Pringles and an avocado. Walked to hotel. Made chicky soup. Dropped an egg in the soup, making it chicky-egg-drop soup. Watched “The Blind Side.” Shed many a tear (such a sap). Went to bed.

84: Slept in ‘til 10am. Looked like the Elephant Man from crying during the movie last night. Ran 6 miles along the beach. Thoroughly enjoyed breathing easier at sea level, the smell of salt water and sand beneath me. Did not enjoy dodging the Baked Blubber Babes turning their ta-ta’s into leather. Ate yogurt with cereal for breaky. Laid by the pool and caught up with Mr. Dawcy and Lizzy in P&P. Walked into Ibiza Town (10 min.). Not much going on since it’s STILL Easter weekend. Happy Easter by the way. Grabbed lunch at a great resto in the main square. Fabulous tuna salad. Walked around. Walked back to hotel, right in front of left. Made some tasty cocktails. Watched The Hangover. Laughed my ass off. Watched Chicago. Contemplated trying out for American Idol. Had a harsh reality check. Decided to walk to “Cube,” an Indonesian resto for a beer. Ate a hard-boiled Easter egg the owner gave us as we left. Danced my way back to the hotel. No, I’m not kidding.

85: Slept in until 11am. Experienced a lack of motivation, once again. Yogi, muesli and a banana for breaky. Watched ski videos from the Olympics. Wished I was skiing. Realized I was in Ibiza, Spain. Slapped myself. Watched “Sex & the City: The Movie” for the 800^th time. Found an ounce of energy in my big toe. Walked to town. Found a Canadian coffee shop that had BIG coffees.  Jumped for friggin’ joy when “Selena” handed me a caramel latte. Savored this heaven in my mouth for a few uninterrupted moments. Found a bookstore. Purchased the March issue of In Style. Turned into the happiest girl in the world. Decided to eat Chinese for dinner. Ordered chop suey veggies and almond chicken. Walked back to the hotel. Curled up in bed. Read my bible for a good 2 hours. Fell asleep with visions of Sam Edelman sandals dancing in my head.

Part II of Spring Break ’10 will continue tomorrow… ciao!

DAY 81: Jesus+Dale=BFF

Good Friday, I suppose. No class, bluebird 65 degrees and nothing to do but pack for Ibiza and catch a train to Rome… no prob Bob. In Italy? Yeah-right… muesli e banana to start the day off right… breakfast used to be my least favorite meal, now it is #1. Perhaps it is the consistency of subject matter, or the fact that it reveals my caffeine addiction, and sits, longing and waiting to please me every morning. Dilly-dally, dilly-bar... I did a little writing, a little daydreaming and a little solving of the world’s problems before I got bored and joined some peeps up on the roof for some sunny lounge action. There is a fab terrace on the roof of the classroom- potential for a serious (and perhaps dangerous) dance party one night before we leave the villa… but for now, those who smoke the hookah, smoked the hookah and those who don’t, enjoyed the sunshine and ironically the smell of apple flavored tobacco smoke- gross and delicious at once, it was an oxi-moron for my nostrils. I decided that Roo has been the most well behaved of all my bags, so he gets to come wid me tada i’land mon. He can only eat about 6 articles of clothing, 2 of which are a swimsuit top and bottom… good thing I’ll be living in it for the next week.

Lunch was salad…BTW, when I say salad, it is torn lettuce tossed in olive oil. If they are feeling saucy, they’ll throw in shredded carrots and a tom or two… and pasta with peas- peas please! I went on a quick 3.5 mile run before showering and joining my Ibiza crew (Jesine, Jessie, Katy, Kate & Becca- you don’t know any of these people) and two guys (Taylor & Devon) who were going to Rome as well to catch a plane to Prague. We walked down to the bus stop to go to Ellora to get the bus to Perugia where we catch a train to Rome… the transportation involved getting you to the transportation you need is a Mother Francis. Oh, and remember it’s Easter “month,” so there is a holiday bus schedule… after 15 minutes of nearly getting dismembered by dump trucks whizzing by, we walked back up to the villa to divide and conquer our present dilemma. Little Bibi to the rescue! Four of us crammed into her tiny little sardine can of a car and booked it to the Ellora bus stop, to sit and wait for her to shuttle the rest of the crew. 45 minutes later we got on the G1 to Perugia where we had a good 1.5 hours until our train left… in the spirit of Spring Break, our mission was this: BEER. We saw a COOP grocery sign across the street, which took a good 20 minutes for 4 of us to find… good thing too! Not. This ghetto, basement processed food hell was a real treat- Come one pedophile, come all! I was scared for my first-born and “its” just a figment of futurism. I opted out of standing in line with potentials for “Wal-Mart’s Best” and found myself with a few Heinekens in the station café- the brave souls found some treasures in the underworld including Jagermeister, Jack Daniels, Prosecco and Red Bull. Shall I hurl now, or later? I don’t know what it is about trains and booze… it just spells fun.

Nearly 4 hours later we found ourselves (or our alter egos) in Rome. Being in Rome Easter weekend rivals Larry the Cable Guy showing up at the Mahone Creek Mobile Home Park in Notasulga, Alabama… it was an absolute dog and pony show. Roman’s consider Jesus their savior, Redneck’s consider Dale Earnhardt Jr. theirs… thou shalt not turn right. (Don’t hate me, those two are totally partyin’ together up there.) Thank God (or GM Goodwrench) Jessie found a hotel close to the train station- Hotel Roma, 2 rooms with 4 peeps each, big comfy bed with my name on it with an “American” breakfast included. Speaking of food, it was already 9:30 p.m. and we needed a little substance besides liquid… Voile! A resto on the corner had food (shocking), which was good enough for us… I got a tuna salad while others opted for pancakes, pizzas and pork. Interesting fare, but it did the trick and revealed my exhaustion. Back to the comfy bed I head, while others walked around the Eternal (Annoyance) City. Up early tomorrow to enjoy Italy’s transportation options once again!

DAY 78, 79, 80: Vehicular Porn

Un altro tre-combo di blogo... that was a combo de Italiano e Espanol y Blondo, translating to: another 3-day combo of bloggage... including the Tuesday, Wednesday & Thursday leading up to Easter weekend and Spring Break... Party on Wayne!

78: Totally Tubular Tuesday Brah! Yogi, granola and coffee… whoo hoo for a change up on my cereal mixer. Early morning grain choices can strongly influence the outcome of one’s day, I’m certain there are studies that prove this… while I was away playing with my besties in Roma, Firenze e Cinque Terre, there was a “cross-hatch drawing of a cup” assigned, and since everyone gave an elementary effort (piss poor) the first go ‘round, we were re-assigned upon my return. As fascinating as my “Good Morning” coffee mug is, I chose to rebel and draw a hairy-tusked boar, claiming it an exercise in interpretive art. After a mind-numbing critique of cups! we got some much needed fresh air and walked up to Corciano for another drawing assignment: arches! I held my ground against the wind on a bench parked in front of a window, with an arch of course…

Back down the hill before a storm-tease, I gained a gallery-worthy sketch and a hungry belly…. Drum roll please…. PENNE! Surprise! I opted for seconds on salad. You’re killin’ me Smalls… after lunch we had a hot date with some hot rides- Ferraris that is. Long time friends of the Vasta family own the Ferrari dealership in Ellora (short 10 minute short bus ride). Let me preface/prepare you by explaining how/why on Earth we are at a car dealership… “Conga’” is this quintessential “Motor head”… some prefer Martha Stewart, some liken to Playboy, few fancy Martha Stewart in Playboy, but Mr. Jeffrey Conger is OBSESSED with Hot Rod magazines- that might be an understatement. Besides acting as head of the Graphic Design department at MSU, he is a motorsport photographer and journalist for American Rodder, Rod & Custom, Street Truck and Hot Rod Magazine to name a few (he was selected by I. D. Magazine as one of the top creative individuals in America- A.K.A. a B.F.D.- you can figure that one out, starts with Big, ends with Deal…) in the art world (I feel like I should present him with an award now). So, no more need to explain why he drug our asses to a car dealership. Ferraris and Maseratis and Beema’s, Oh My! Basically it was a motor head’s wet dream… there’s the glossy paper car porn, but when those glass doors slide open up into the glossy rooms cradling tin, plastic and paint, it’s like a stripper taking the stage.

Before we got to the dealership, the group acted similar to 2^nd graders on a field trip to a nuclear energy plant (uber enthused…), but once we rubbed elbows with a garage full of 800,000 Euro paint jobs, the tune went up a few octaves. We had a two-hour drawing assignment after a tour of the joint… the combination of my headache, A.D.D. and taking direction with a spoonful of cement led me wandering around snapping photos instead. What did I learn today you ask? Well, I learned that any car owner caught dead with a dust particle, chipped windshield or grocery cart scrape on their Ferrari, will have it reclaimed by the dealer, until they can afford to or simply buck up and fix it. I also calculated how much 800,000 Euros is in USD and daydreamed about how many OTHER, lower maintenance things I could purchase… All in all, it was a cool experience… we hit up a grocery for those interested on the walk to the bus station and trooped back to the villa for dinner. Spaghetti, potatoes and fish… fish please. If this is your first time reading Blond Voyage, you’ll soon learn that I don’t do pasta… once a month MAYBE, but twice a day? No thanks. Plus my boss told me he was starting Friday Staff Weigh-Ins when I get home, and to “put the fork down”… haha, shout out to Plonk, yeah! 6'2" at a buck twenty? Hello eating disorder...(He’s kidding. I think…)

79: Hump day. Took an early morning run before my muesli, yogi e banana. We were supposed to take another field trip to the Art Academy in Perugia, but because the bus system was on the “Easter Holiday Schedule” (it’s Wednesday mind you. Easter is Sunday… typical Italians), we had no transportation to the Emerald City (so not) which resulted in a studio-of-your-choice morning… I wrote and made “The Harv” an arrivederci card. Sadly, our fearless leader is heading back to Montucky (he probably can’t wait), so tonight was his Going Away Party. We had dinner with a guest violinist who treated us to some post dinner melodies… porksteakpotatoespastapoo, that’s what’s for dinner. *SIDENOTE: Richard Helzer and his wife Kathy arrived today for a month-long vacation… Rich was my advisor, Metalsmithing professor and Director of the Art Department at MSU for… well, he taught my mother- through all of which, he’s become a great mentor and friend, so I’m excited to have them here for awhile. * After the concert and a poetry reading by our lovely cook Paola, we booked it upstairs to the poolroom for some Motown dancin’ and vino drinkin’… Bibi kicked us out at 11 pm, but “The Harv” was ready to rally… we moved to a room in the country house, threw on the jams (music, not pj’s) and boogied down. In between Jackson 5 and The Supremes, Harv told us about seeing the Beatles in ’64 (couldn’t hear anything but shrills from girls) and his dancing days on American Bandstand. After some great fun, bedtime is anyone’s guess- definitely slept like a dead person.

80: Thirsty Thursday was not so… more like Hung-over Thursday, for all. But, we needed pep in our step and a cute Easter outfit for the infamous “Painting of the Egg.” Because Rich just arrived, Harvey was leaving and Spring Break was beginning, we celebrated Easter today with an egg painting contest and a late lunch of lasagna and a lamb stew. After I shed a tear upon “The Harv’s” departure, I took a much needed snooze for a few hours- Motown really takes it outa’ ya! The dogs put in 4.5 miles on the country roads, before they walked me to dinner, which I didn’t eat because I had leftover turkey and Swiss that needed to me eaten before I leave… spent the evening writing and dawdling, an activity I’ve become far too comfortable with lately… Off to Rome tomorrow to begin the Breakage of the Spring- Ciao!

DAY 75, 76, 77: Sausage Smuggler

This is the weekend of March 27th & 28th and Monday the 29th... playing catch-up from a vacation from my extended vacation. Fair? No. Fabulous? Hell yeah...

75: Saturday was a sunny day that started with the usual cup-a-joe, corn flakes and yogurt... don't think I will ever get sick of yogi, but stale corn flakes are starting to rain on my breakfast parade- this coming from the girl who didn't start eating "the most important meal of the day" until she was 23... no joke, ask my mother. I'd mix it up by adding milk, but the fact that it is A. whole milk, B. it's warm, which really makes me want to vom... nothing is better on cereal than refrigerated soy milk. The lives of dairy products in Europe is slightly disconcerting... cheese sits in old, musty barns for years, ultra-pasteurized milk sits on shelves at the corner grocery, at room temperature for weeks... I'm surprised I haven't grown a green tail yet.

Most everyone stuck around the villa this weekend and a few of us hitched a ride into Ellora to loiter through the Saturday market- Read: avoid pickpockets while dodging yippy Chiwawa mixes and strollers. It had a Mexi-ghetto flavor with aisles upon aisles of cheap clothes made of even cheaper fabrics, salted pork stands, troughs full of kitchen utensils and may favorite, vans with fold-out tables covered in underwear. It really was quite handy- not only can you splurge on knock-off Armani whitie-tighties, but you can have a wienerschnietzel and eat it too… no pun intended there. The only extenuating quality was the vast fruit and flower stands which helped cover the smell of rayon, artificial alligator skin and anchovies, all baking in the sun providing a smorgasbord for pesky flies.

I rode the mini metro into Perugia to snag a Capri sando and peruse the flea market that filled a central park area… old art books, antique jewels and vintage sunnies (sunglasses) amidst Eastern European furniture. I kicked myself for not bringing my camera- potential portraits of booth owners half asleep with cigarettes helplessly holding on for dear life between orange sherbet lips… and the cat eye spectacles with missing lenses to give those clumpy lashes room to bat give “Helga” a splash of character, as if she needs it. “Giovani” across the way pretends to read an autobiography on Picasso, even though its in French and upside down… really he looks beyond the nose of his tobacco pipe, through the smoke haze that saturates into his curly silver locks across the way to beautiful “Helga,” whom I imagine he’s had eyes for for years… spring-time twitterpation is in full bloom. After observing the cycles of flirtation and snooze sessions, in between sales of course, I collected some groceries at a DeSpar and caught the G1 bus back to Ellora where I ran into “Conga’.” We boarded the X bus, and when I say bus, I’m being generous as it is usually a large van. Back at the villa I worked on some wedding invitations I’m designing for a friend and snacked on rice cakes… really exciting day…

76: Sunday was a lazy day that began with granola and coffee… I worked on a few design projects and decided that I had to go blow the stink off, so I walked up to Migiana to take pictures of roof tiles (assignment) among other wonderments that surround me in this beautiful little valley… we had a group dinner that involved French fries and pasta- none of which I participated in… the day, which is day light savings, ended with me writing and drawing… Imagine how boring this would be if I dedicated an entire blog just to this day… no one would read it!

77: Monday means class again, after yogi, granola and a banana of course. This morning was a Photoshop tutorial and editing… lunch was salad and carbanara pasta which, you guessed it! I didn’t eat… the afternoon was a free day to take pictures, draw or continue editing… I dabbled in all of the above and rewarded myself with a snooze before I wrangled a 5-mile run. This is the last week before Spring Break, which makes me laugh that I have a “Spring Break”… I might as well enjoy it while I can! Those of you reading this at your desk are nodding “yes.” More from Italia later, ciao!

DAY 72, 73, 74: Do you… Bidet?

What I would give for Febreeze:

-pick of the litter from my ant farm

-the wig my 12’ of golden locks made

-a Baby Ruth with Italian nutrition facts

-my double chin (bargain, I know)

-keys to my old house on Oliver Street

-signed photo of Wolf Blitzer at Burning Man

Febreeze is the lazy man’s Tide and I would love to spritz my life into a lilac euphoria right now… I am so picky about separating my colors, but unfortunately, that got flushed down the bidet along with my sparkling whites… everything is a dull, wrinkled mess. **Please excuse this program interruption for a brief Did You Know? moment, brought to you by Charmin: Bidet, translating to  “pony” in French, is a low-mounted plumbing fixture or type of sink intended for washing the genitalia, inner buttocks and anus. Thank you.** Does it count if I wash my underwear in the bidet? I’ll stick with the P-T thanks. As I was saying,  neutral would be a generous description for my shirts tonal evolution and disgusting as this is, I have washed my jeans ONCE. Yeah, if I saw me 3 months ago NOW, I wouldn’t know me. Not sure that made sense but my point is, my exterior life is taking place in that dirty dry cleaners without ironing boards, a place I never thought I’d see. Funny thing is, I don’t really mind… I figure if I don’t care, why should anyone else? Yes I'm still single...

Another grouper- I ordered a combo meal of Wednesday, Thursday and Friday, with a side of carbohydrates. The weekdays are a little grim… my pseudo routine here at the villa has begun, uber boring, but I’ll share regardless…

72-Weds: Early to rise for yogurt, banana and coffee… drew a set of drums for 3 hours, spheres and cylinders SUCK btw… lunch was more pasta with tom sauce and little parsley and onion quiches… walked up to Corciano after lunch to sketch for another few hours… went for a 4 mile run before dinner with a bunch of Italian students (dinner, not the run) from the art academy in Perugia, none of which spoke English, so you can imagine how much fun we had… early to bed.

73-Thurs: Slept in (class started later because of the party last night, that I left early from)… breakfast of champions included berry yogurt mixed with corn flakes… edited photos for 2 hours… lunch was salad with artichoke pesto over fettuccini and 2 blood oranges… walked up to Corciano again to sketch a landscape… came back to find clothes sopping wet in the dryer, read: super stoked… went on a 5.5 mile run before dinner… have become accustomed to stretching in the neighbors front yard (castle that over looks the valley)- really loving watching the sun set in downward dog… dinner was mushroom & sausage penne in broth with breaded pork and jojo fries… I’ve gotten really good at picking out the veggies, cutting things up and moving it around my plate so it looks like I ate more- can’t handle anymore pasta…

74-Fri: Slept in again- no class on Fridays (rigorous schedule, I know)… peach yogurt with corn flakes today, and as always, a bucket of coffee… screwed around all morning- wrote, cleaned my room, changed a light bulb, didn’t need help doing it… lunch was salad and pasta, yet again- my nickname changed from ‘The Big Typewriter” to the “Salad Whore”… went on a 4 mile run through Corciano this afternoon and stopped at the grocery on my way back down for some bananas and apples… screwed around some more before dinner- clipped my toenails, plucked my eyebrows, put on some lotion, yawned, wondered why I yawned because I’ve accomplished nil today, wondered if there are bidets in Italian prisons, or in ambulances- could a bidet save a life?… dinner was angel hair with pasta and bread crumbs and fish with salad (Friday- no meat)… wrote  and did a little more of nothing before bed… I won’t lie, it was nice to not have to go anywhere this weekend- I chose to save some dough and chill out.

So, more exciting stuff from Umbria valley tomorrow, I know you can hardly wait. Trips elsewhere are upon us, so Blond Voyage will kick it up a notch… Ciao!

DAY 71: Quit MONKeyin' around

Blond Voyage is HALF OVER! Holy Hallucinogens did that fly by? Where'd it go? What have I done these last 2.5 months? Haha, A LOT. Let us recap:
-Gale-force winds on Cliffs of Mohr- Ennis and Connolly drive-by's- Pint-O-Guinness castle parties with cops in Dublin, Ireland.
-Lost & Found in Ashford- Training Day in Oxford-"Wicked" time in SoHo-London, England
-Macarooning and Swooning to jazz and Manet, the Parisian way- Frog legs, hold the mustard in Dijon- Family time in Marseille- Chickpea pancakes and sailin' with Cap't Jack Sparrow in Nice, France.
-Cocktails with Dolce & Gabanna in Milan- Hot chocolate in Torino- Running through the Alps and pizza parties in Graglia, Italy.
-Class excursions in Venice, Ravenna, Florence, Rome, Corciano, Assisi, Perugia, Cinque Terre, Arezzo and Cortona involving fabulous gelato, dance parties to the max, best pasta of my life... oh yeah, and some art... what am I forgetting???  PHEW! What a wonderfully witty, worldly wack-job I've become!

Today we took a day trip from the villa in Corciano  (in case you were confused as to where I presently reside...) to Arezzo and Cortona... first off, Arezzo: about an hour away, via the short bus... our main chore was to admire Piero della Francesca's frescos from the 1450's (roughly) in a ministry. Of upmost importance were the Flatulation of Christ, errr, the Flagellation of Christ (he may be holy, but everyone has gas)... P. Fran was known (in my book) for painting emotionless blank stares with zero depth, horse hooves that were too tiny, even for Bryer figurines, and people who shaved their foreheads (sign of beauty back then!)... suffice to say, I was overwhelmed with a peculiarly familiar feeling of... yawn. Not much can compare to Florence and Rome, and since our history portion has basically ended, I've pretty much checked out. After "The Harv" almost got kicked out of the church for the 23rd time this trip, we walked to another church where "Stevey" was tuning the pipe organ, and just as "The Harv" began to talk about the altar piece, Phantom of the Opera blared through the old Romanesque church. Spiders raced up my spine as we all turned to see "Stevey" having a little fun with his audience. "The Harv" yelled either "Bach Concerto!" or "Rock from the Quattrocento (14th c.)!" in his "Name That Tune" episode. I stood and watched the little man crawl all over the huge organ, creating pure magic- absolutely made my day... I doubt I'll forget that moment, standing in a big, empty, candle-lit church with natural acoustics, listening to one of the greatest pieces of music ever written. Unfortunately we only had a short time in the cute little town, full of unique shops and restos before we had to continue with the agenda...

Back on the bus to Cortona (where Under the Tuscan Sun was filmed with Diane Lane- hearts) where "Conga'" gave us an architectural photo assignment (mine was roof tiles). We arrived, took photos for an hour- I performed some Cirque Du Soleil worthy acrobatics to crawl up walls and fences to capture my subject matter... we all met up for lunch, which is always a terrible idea to cram 18 people into a tiny cafe for a meal... we got ripped off on anti pasta platters that we were to share, with barely enough food to keep a bird alive... "The Harv" was especially ticked off, so he led us to Snoopy's gelatoria to make up for lack of substance... and the schnoz berries tasted like schnoz berries! We hung out in the sunshine for a while longer and the group started to lose focus... the only difference between a group of college kids and Kindergarteners is that college kids are taller. They don't grow up, they just get taller... attention spans had diminished even though we had one more stop: a Monastery (with real monks!)... it was a beautiful and peaceful place with a small river flowing through the center... I could have fallen asleep on the bridge, listening to the water flow and birds sing... apparently it was a big Spring Break destination for St. Anthony the Great.

Nap time was challenged on the bumpy bus ride back to Corciano... we arrived in time for dinner- Tuscan Bean soup with noodles and pork chops with soupy mashers. I dream about my Jack La Lanne juicer at home... I don't even know what raw food taste like anymore! Except for my daily vitamin C brought to me by blood orange trees... have I mentioned my obsession with this phenomenon? A-mazing... more from Camp Italia tomorrow- ciao!

DAY 68, 69, 70: RECOVERY

I combined Saturday, Sunday and Monday because 67% of these days involved watching the back of my eyelids and allowing my body to forgive me, and unless you want to hear about the wild dreams I had, it ain't interesting...

SATURDAY: Slept in until 10 a.m. Walked up to Corciano to get some fresh air and groceries for the weekend since we don't get meals on Sat/Sun... apples, turkey, swiss and rice crackers is as gourmet as it gets.  An hour later I entered the quiet villa (most of the group went away for the weekend) and decided to take advantage of the rare silence, so I took a nap. 4 hours later I woke up, wrote, made turkey and swiss pizzas on rice crackers and researched "Spring Break" destinations. I fell asleep at 10 p.m.

SUNDAY: Slept in until 10 a.m. again (I cannot sleep past 7:30... obviously I had some catching up to do). I  spiced up stale corn flakes with a banana for breaky... *SIDE NOTE* The milk here is not refrigerated... they keep it on pantry shelves and let it sit out, even after it's been opened! And it's always whole... I don't think they've even heard of soy milk... gross.  I spent the majority of the day researching, writing, photo editing and catching up on some school work. I needed to get outside, so I hiked up to Corciano again and took some pictures... tried to take a short cut down a hill on the back side of town which got me stuck in a briar patch. Possible the most interesting thing that happened to me all weekend. After hours of looking up flights and ferries to Eastern and Western Europe and North Africa, I improved my geographic knowledge tremendously and finally settled on Ibiza, Spain. I was hesitant as it is the BIGGEST party island in the world, and although I am technically in college, I've had more than my fair share of liver and dignity destroying during March Madness. But, because it is still the off-season, the island will be fairly quiet and hopefully Becca, Jessie, Katie, Kate, Jesine and I will be the ONLY thing going on... I want sun, sand and solitude- that's it. Plus it was cheap, and I'm all about euro-bargains. I fell asleep at 9 p.m... it's fascinating what rest does for those pesky under-eye circles...

MONDAY: Back to class! Edited photos from 9-1, had salad and more pasta for lunch... I am starting to not feel as bad about sending back nearly full bowls of pasta when they clear the table. Back to the drawing board at 2... backed my entire computer up.  Went on a run after class, before "The Harv's" lecture... got to take a freezing cold shower because the hot water heater is broken... its baffling what I've become tolerant of... that or I've just become a total hippy. I have no idea what we had for dinner, but I'll guarantee it involved starch!

It was a very chill weekend- MUCH needed after the roller coaster ride I've been on the last few months... appreciating somewhat of a routine and being in a "home" environment for more than a week is fabulous... looking forward to a relaxing week with no place to be or go for awhile... the next few weeks will take place here at the villa, with a few day and weekend trips scattered in between. I'll be corralling days together for the sake of utter boredom... spring is in the air, days are getting warmer and grass is greener! More from Corciano tomorrow! Ciao...

DAY 67: Pillow Talk

You know that feeling in the morning when you open one eye… and the other slowly follows for a split second before both squint shut as anticipation rushes from your toes up to your brain, and back down again? The angst that feels like cinder blocks are stacked on your chest? When you know that today is the day that something wonderful has to come to an end? When you are pushed out of your comfort zone, understand good things lie before you, but don’t want to walk away from “right now?” There’s a place “under the covers” that lends a reassurance, and it’s as comforting now as it was 20 years ago when it protected me from the Boogie Monster. As long as you are tucked under those 900 count Egyptian cotton sheets, a goose down sleeping bag or a mosquito net, everything’s going to be ok. Today felt like that. I didn’t want to get outa’ bed. Not because it was exceptionally comfortable, but because I had to leave a sense of familiarity and rely on myself again…the ebb tide is on its way back out.  You know you have good friends when you don’t even have to think around them- everything happens naturally and easily. Until you say good-bye to them in a soup can filled with horrendous body odor in Pisa, Italy.

We slowly and sadly fed the glutinous nylon wolf pack, checked out of the hostel and took the train from Manarola to La Spezia where we had to wait 2 hours for the next train to Pisa… we set up camp in McDonalds snacking on dried fruit and oranges. The clock was ticking and the Trio’s Italian Safari was on it’s last legs as we boarded the train for the last time together… the depression was broken when Rabbit ordered a bottle of H2O from the passing Trans-Fat cart and when “Hugo” leaned across me to hand it off, I don’t know what kept me from passing out and/or vomiting. His underarm stench smelled like a cat pissed on a bloated sea lion carcass that had been rotting inside an abandoned aquarium for weeks… Ann was convinced we would wake up with one eye crossed. He made gypsies smell like a green house in the Royal Gardens… although he just missed the time trials for “Hottest Italian Stallion,” he took home the glimmering “Stankiest Pits in Italy” trophy.

Campbell’s Clam Chowder was slowly approaching Pisa and those cinder blocks started to get heavy… A man helped me talk Luigi off the ledge… he gave me a hand getting him down and yelped “Mama Mia!” which resonated in unison with the air that passed through the other end. I put on a happy face, squeezed my two darling girlfriends tight and bid them good luck in Rome and sang my most convincing “until next time”…  Boys II Men weren’t kidding: It’s SO hard to say good-bye! I stepped onto the platform, swallowed what felt like a sharp tortilla chip that went down the wrong way, and waved my lovelies away. Back to the original cast members- Trixie, Luigi and I were at it again, specifically to Florence where I had another 2 hours to kill. Team Blond Voyage grabbed a veggie pizza at a nearby resto… I really wasn’t hungry, but Luigi was KILLING my back and I had to order food if I wanted to whip my computer out at a table for a few. Once in Perugia, I still had to take a bus to Ellora (which took a good 45 minutes to remember and locate the correct stop) and catch a different bus to Corciano (which I missed by 3 minutes)… so the lone soldiers sat in the dark, in silence for another hour to catch the last bus of the evening to Corciano, where I still had a nice little hill to conquer via my hooves if I wanted to sleep in my bed. Beginning at 10 a.m. I finally arrived in room #8 at the villa at 10 p.m., releasing the only relieving breath I could find all day. It wasn’t “home” but it was the next best thing, and I couldn’t wait to get under the covers.  Ciao…

DAY 66: Whistle while you work

Things in Cinque Terre move a little bit slower than the rest of the world, including the animals. Surprisingly today, these animals were up early ready to take on the steep trails that zigzag along cliffs, through backyard gardens and vineyards. We hiked up old variations of nature-made and man-made steps to the small village Volastra where the fragrance of fresh flowers and olives intensified with elevation. Locals were enjoying the peacefulness of the shoulder season before their streets turn into a Mardi Gras of tourists. Men whistled while they mended stick fences and slapped grout onto their home’s foundation cracks, a chore that surely occurs every spring. The women dug in their gardens barehanded, talking to the neighbors that have probably shared a hot water heater for over 30 years… all of which were completely aloof to the 3 American girls tromping in between their houses. Our questionable fitness levels were quickly answered with heavy breaths and cramping hamstrings… let’s just say this particular trail is not for the faint hearted… or those who worry about chipping their nail polish.

Approximately 3 hours and 2.5 miles later (don’t do the math), we made our way down to Corneglia for some cappuccinos and lunch… after exploring the little town and asking a Minnesotan wearing a Red Lodge, Montana sweatshirt to take our photo, we found Il Pirun and took a load off in a booth upstairs. “Folco Orselli,” the Italian Louie Armstrong, serenaded us while we enjoyed caprese salads and lots of aqua. We decided to celebrate our last day of carbs with pasta dishes… I went with a salmon and tomato fettuccini- very good. We contently sat, taking in the the quaint little resto and its Italian patrons that slowly filtered in for siesta… fortunately we had another few miles to work off our hefty lunches before we reached Vernazza. Arguably the most “happenin’” town of the five, many stores were open for business, probably because the owners thrive on lethargic afternoons to socialize… gathering halfway between one another’s stores to smoke multiple cigarettes and comment on passerby’s. Forlornly, I am drawn to gelato shops like a moth to a flame and of course we had to counterbalance our output with input… fresh banana and coconut for this girl… perhaps the best yet. Oh happy day…

The path from Vernazza to Monterosso was closed due to landslidage, so we took the train to check out the final stretch of C-T… this larger and equally “bustling” town provided great homemade spreads, spirits and famous foccacia. We walked along the beach to check out the local hens that sit on benches in their mangy fur coats, whispering amongst themselves and scowl at non-locals. We picked up some anchovy tapenade and pesto gift items before hitting up the grocery store for dinner items including: speck, gorgonzola, pecorino, apples, biscotti, foccacia and vino. Back on the train to Ostello Cinque Terre to shower and chillax with a fresh buffet spread, red wine and immeasurably fabulous company. To keep things interesting, we finished two bottles of wine and decided to play beauty parlor… Rabbit highlighted the reverse skunk stripe down my noggin… my hair cut (or lack there of) is currently inspired by both Harry and Lloyd from Dumb & Dumber.  Animal looked on with snide eyes and blurred comments- oh so helpful. Suffice to say if the whole “saving lives” gig doesn’t work out, Rab has a profitable hairdressing future ahead of her! Today was dreamy and rich… thrilled to share it with two special gals! Back on the road tomorrow (sniffle), ciao ciao ciao…

DAY 65: Pink Elephants

In the spirit of Saint Patrick’s Day, I’ve realized my luck is based on the fact that, a best friend is like a four leaf clover: hard to find and lucky to have… and here I am with two! No time for green eggs and ham this morning, we had an apartment to tidy and train to catch… cappuccinos, sandos and M&M’s sufficed for a meal before we boarded the wagon to Pisa to change connections to La Spezia which finally dropped us in Manarola, Cinque Terre. After spending the end of the ride in dark tunnels, light broke through the window and literally took our breath away when we looked out over the Mediterranean… we were like 5 years old seeing Mickey’s ears in the distance on the drive to Disneyland. I felt like I was having an epiphany… until we were sucked back into a graffiti filled dungeon. The deafening brakes squealed to a stop in our magical little home for the rest of the week… we had to walk through a neon green tunnel that was straight out of that nightmare when you are swimming through “Slimer The Ghost’s” birth canal: trippy.

Once we finally reached the town, a mighty steep hill to climb lay before us… onward and upward with our nylon pets who were hitching piggyback rides. 10 sweaty minutes later we arrived at our hostel to learn its “hours of operation”… it was now 1:45 and they didn’t open until 4 p.m. Good thing Billy’s down the street was open! We walked in and Billy himself told us to come in…

“May we sit on the deck?” we asked...

“Are you from Canada?” he answered…

“Haha, close enough!” we said as we carefully stepped down the steep stairs to a lovely little terrace with a view you’d have to see to believe.

“You are first customers to sit outside this year!” he told us.

It was a sunny 55-60 degrees, so we ordered a bottle of wine, some bread and cheese and put our feet up to enjoy the serenity surrounding us, especially the lack of car and Vespa noises and more importantly, NO TOURISTS. Charming place for its lack of “modern” development… only paths, trains and boats connecting the towns. It was 3 girlfriends, the locals and the vineyards that stair stepped out of the aquamarine water straight up into the bluebird sky… bright orange and pink houses dotted the hillsides. It looked like the Easter Bunny threw up in Lego Land…  being on the water turns my frown upside down- the smell of lemon trees, fresh rosemary and salt water teasing my nostrils makes my world go ‘round.

Ann entertained us with a story about pink elephants… seeing pink elephants is a euphemism for drunk hallucinations. Jack London was the first to use this term in his writings: “"the man whom we all know, stupid, unimaginative, whose brain is bitten numbly by numb maggots; who walks generously with wide-spread, tentative legs, falls frequently in the gutter, and who sees, in the extremity of his ecstasy, blue mice and pink elephants. He is the type that gives rise to the jokes in the funny papers." Anyone who has seen “Fantasia” remembers the dancing elephants that drink champagne and turn pink… better known as DT- Delirium Tremens. Well Annie knew of a lawyer, a banker and an engineer that got loaded at some conference and decided it would be a good idea to drive home. On the way, each of them saw elephants, yet the car remained silent as they well knew what they were experiencing. The next day, the front page of the paper read “Three Elephants Escape Traveling Circus- Wyoming.” Haha, the funny thing is, pink elephants actually DO exist because albino elephants can be pink!

Standing up makes you an honest woman and after 2 bottles of wine in 2 hours, we were honestly buzzed at Bill’s. We walked over to our lovely little hostel behind the church and settled in to our very clean room with a big window looking out over the patio and town. I threw on some jams and we had a dance/try-on-everything-we-brought (which took me 2 seconds) party before heading to Vernazza, the third of five towns that make up the Cinque Terre (1-Riomaggiore, 2-Manarola, 3-Corneglia, 4-Vernazza, 5-Monterosso al Mar). We took good ol’ Rick Steve’s advice and grabbed a cocktail at The Blue Marlin where we met a dude that worked there from California (UC San Jose) who got swept up by one of the Italian beauties and moved to Italy! He and his colleague (may have taken the gold and silver for the day) made us delight in a glass- a concoction I will be introducing upon my return behind the bar in June. Wasn’t overly impressed with the place- looked like something you’d find in South Florida. We walked through the center of town to the quay and found a great resto called Gambero Rosso where a fluffy white dog greeted us as we walked in. We started with their signature antipasto anchovy assortment and some vini bianchi… Rab got pesto trofie, a pasta that looks like the Play Dough worms kids roll their boogers into at daycare. Ann and I split a seafood risotto dish with mussels, clams, shrimp and squid. Everything was fabulous and we ended up sharing, including a panna cotta with chocolate and oranges. The only downside to the evening was being surrounded by fellow Americans- who wants to hear loud, know-it-all New Yorkers in Italy?

We got on the wrong train back to Manarola, which seems impossible considering how close these towns are, but we all know how astounding my sense of direction is! 45 minutes later we made it to our room, curled up under fluffy down comforters and drifted off to sleep with a tantalizing, cool sea breeze coming through the open window. Heaven, oh heaven, is this right here… more from Dreamland tomorrow! Ciao…

DAY 64: No carb left behind

Up & at 'em early for a gorgeous day in Florence… the 3 of us grabbed cappuccinos and split a hammy sammy for breaky before we took on the food and leather market. I introduced Animal and Rabbit to “Henry”- my quiche Lorraine expert who provided scrumptious samples… I grabbed my usual dried fruit snack bag from the friendly little Asians (I’ve come to know several of the booth/counter renters here…). There’s a new game we like to play called “Hottest Italian Stallion of the Day”… after searching for the renowned little resto called “Mario’s,” I threw the towel in and asked some policemen. It was unfortunate for “Harry & Larry,” that they didn’t speak English… it was fortunate for us that Bradley Cooper, errr, the blue ribbon winner in the front seat of the police car did. “’Scuse me occifer? Can you tell me where I can find more of you, I mean, Mario’s?” He stepped out of the vehicle, his twinkling blue eyes locked with my poop brown eyes as his tan, Davidesque hand pointed us in the right direction… just as I thanked him for making my day and turned to walk away, he grabbed me, pulled me in close and softly whispered, “Keep dreaming blondie.” Ah shucks, a girl can only wish, right? We found Mario’s, but they didn’t open until one… everything in Italy is about 3 hours later than "Emurica," especially meals. And I have found that their customer service, primarily in retail, sucks. They don’t have to show up until 10 a.m., they get a 2-hour siesta for lunch and close up shop at 7 p.m… life can’t be THAT bad?

We made our way toward the Arno River and gawked at the gorgeous jewels along the Ponto Vecchio. I hadn’t explored the “other side” of the river much, so we perused and found some wonderful artists selling their work along a street… one woman in particular caught our fancy- she composed scenes of Florence in pen and watercolor. We each purchased one of a kind pieces and asked for a lunch recommendation… “Four Lions is right around the corner…” she informed us. “4 Leoni is open for lunch?!” I exclaimed in my highest soprano voice. I thought I’d have to save this little treasure for dinner, but alas we found ourselves content in a cozy booth in the back enjoying cheese, pears, walnuts, pate’ and salami. I forced Ann to order the famous pear and asparagus tortellini convincing her that it is life changing… Rabbit got pesto gnocchi and went with a bowl of the famous Tuscan “Ribolitta” soup, which translates to “re-boiled”. Back in the day, poor country people didn’t waste anything and this was a great way of using up leftovers… it was reheated day after day, which increased the flavor each time. There are different versions of the recipe, but the main ingredients are: stale bread, white cannellini beans and green leafy vegetables. (P.S. The typical bread in Florence is unsalted white… yack.) Of course we licked our plates clean chanting “NO CARB LEFT BEHIND, NO CARB LEFT BEHIND!”

I parted ways with the animals to walk around some of my favorite shops while they experienced the Uffizi Museum… I nestled myself on a stoop in the sun at the museum’s exit to wait for them before hiked up to Michelangelo’s Garden- 2^nd best view of the city, first being Ricky’s roof. We picked up a small cone of pistachio gelato for the stairs- we were walking oxymorons... or just straight up morons. We kanoodled with fellow foreigners and local artists pawning paintings… one man yelled “Special price for the tall girl!” I was intrigued so I approached him and asked why I was so “special”… he answered “Because you no Japanese!” Haha, laughter proceeded from my comrades and they continued to tease the “circus freak that can’t find long enough pants!” After watching the light slip away from the Duomo and settle into the hills, we made our way back down, picking up some vino and fruit for breaky tomorrow. The fruit is for breaky, not the vino… Ricky met us back at his pad for some wine and convo while we looked through old pictures on my computer from our glory days at MSU. It was around Fall 2005 when we realized enough is enough and that we’d sit and point and laugh all night if we didn’t pry ourselves away then and there… Ricky had a fab resto in mind and 88 steps later we were out the front door and walking past the Duomo to a hole in the wall where there was an hour and a half waiting list- no go. Little bunny rabbit turns into the Mad Hatter when she’s hungry, so he took us to another place that was Ta’DIE… we waited 10 minutes before we were sat in a bustling dining room with tiny tables surrounded by business men, 1st dates and 400^th dates. “Lydia” was our only waitress, and it’s a good thing she’s a pipsqueak, because she was a mouse in a maze squeezing in between tables and chairs. We started with an octopus bruschetta with spicy tomatoes and garlic- holy heavenly… the girls each got a pizza pie while Ricky and I shared a seafood platter that covered the entire table… it took a good 56 minutes for it to come out, but it was well worth the wait… “Lydia” clunked down a huge pan overflowing with a big fish, mussels, prawns, clams, octopus, calamari, cuttlefish… all sautéed in a wine wine sauce and fresh herbs… all 4 of us were leaning back in our chairs, bellies protruding, picking our teeth with fish bones like Sylvester the Cat. There was a big soccer match on, so the owner invited us into the bar for Lemoncello digestifs and free hugs from the local drunks. Ricky surprised us by picking up the tab (totally unnecessary) and we walked back to the his place to watch the movie “500 Day of Summer.” I passed out halfway through… another wonderful day with wonderful friends in wonderful Florence ( I LOVE this city…) Ciao ciao!