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!

DAY 63: Baby Mice

Luigi woke me up at 7:30 a.m. to be fed... I love getting up in the morning and hacking up baby mice. Rabbit just got over pneumonia and I have residuals left over from the last time I was in Rome, so baby mice were being coughed up left and right (Gross yes. True no.)... Ann had to leave the room. We grabbed some corn flakes and coffee before bidding our new favorite trio (Huey, Dewy & Looey) farewell and metroed it over to Roma Termini. We boarded the 10:15 Eurostar to Florence and arrived an hour and a half later… on the ride, Annie told us about “Betty” from Wisconsin, who sat next to her on the flight over and was overly enthusiastic about fields. “Deed yaw see that Hank? Eet’s a veenyurd! Those theere are veenyurds!” (Spoken in Chris Farley’s “Ravioli? Holy Canoli!” voice). Midwesterners are easy to pick out of a crowd… make-up-less faces framed by un-plucked eyebrows and blunt hair cuts set off by elastic wasted Mom-Jeans with strands of plastic rosaries dangling around their Palm Springs Invitational ’86 sweatshirts with attached polo collars… don’t forget the fanny pack that they won at the same Invitational 24 years ago, with a Rick Steve’s guide sticking out… and of course the white Velcro geriatric sneakers with flesh colored socks that don’t stay up.

Upon arrival we witnessed, what might be the funniest skeptical of the day: a girl “running” through the station to catch a train (hopefully, otherwise she just looked a’ fool)… we concurred that this was her first attempt at athleticism in her life- she has definitely never moved this fast- EVER. Her empty backpack flopped behind her as her platypus feet slapped the platform… we thought she was going down like a sack of Idaho spuds with every step. It was like witnessing a train wreck, we just couldn’t look away. (Yes, I am a horrible person- well aware. We all need to be able to laugh at each other and ourselves… humanity as a whole is a real kick in the pants!) After being enthralled by the “welcome wagon,” we hit the trail towards the American Consulate… no, we aren’t in trouble… yet. I connected with a friend of a friend of a friend, “Riccardo,” who invited us to stay with him for a few days and works for the A.C. FYI: This guy is a brotha’ from anotha’ motha’… I feel like we may have been pals in a past life… he is LEGIT. And funny to boot… we collected our envelope marked “CONFIDENTIAL” with our map and house keys and made our way down the Arno to the center of the city… couldn’t have asked for a better location. Could’ve asked for an elevator because 88 steps later, I contemplated giving Luigi up for adoption. After a “swass” session (ass sweat), we found Ricky’s rooftop terrace and decided to celebrate our victory over the staircase with a bottle of Prosecco… the thermometer hit around 65 degrees when we decided to quit dilly-dallyin’ and see the sights. And eat, of course.

I took the girls to 2 Brothers sando shop where I consumed a fresh goat cheese, Tuscan salami and rocket sando with a micro glass of Chianti for 2.50 Euro… might be my favorite place in Florence… since the portions are smaller, I introduced my favorite gelato shop, on the corner of Chanel and Yum, to my besties… unfortunately, “Helga” the scooper who had hands that rivaled Goliaths (certain she chopped lumber on the weekends), gave me a toilet bowl full of almond and woodland berry gelato… for 8-stinkin’-Euros! I pawned half of it off on the way to the leather market where we took in the swindlers of lamb and scent of boiled cow… sniff sniff, mmmmm….

After taking in the sights and sounds, we headed to the Bargello, errr, our “hotel” to enjoy some vino with Ricky before he took us out on the town… he took us to a local place, “Giovanni’s” where Giovanni himself waited on us (apparently they take all the U.S. Big Rigs here- if only you knew their stipend… glad my tax dollars are treating Pelosi to a 5 course Italian meal). We started with an anti-pasta platter of warm goat cheese, prosciutto, artichokes, mozzarella and fried bread balls (?) with a bottle of Chianti. I went with the special of the evening: Wild Boar with mashed potatoes… great flavor and hearty… not what I expected, but D-Lish nonetheless. Annie got Ta’Die4 pear tortellini and Rab got mushrooms with black truffle ravioli… hello yum? They gave us Grappa, a raisin biscotti loaf and a glass of sweet wine for dipping…after a fabulous dinner, conversation and service, we returned to the apartment with our new friend, Beatles Rock Band… I have never played before and I am officially, from this day forward, hooked. So fun… but the rooftop terrace was calling our names… we schlepped our box-o-wine upstairs and took in the phenomenal view of the city… How lucky are we?! We had a yearbook review which took precedence over Ricky’s beauty sleep… he’ll LOVE us in the morning… FAB day in Firenze… We heart Italia- busy day tomorrow! Ciao!!!

DAY 62: Slip Sack Gypsy Wack

We recited the entire script of The Hangover this morning, strictly from memory (it was that bad, sad). When you go to bed at 5 a.m., the probability of getting an "early start" is as slim as Lindsay Lohan's dogwood sapling frame. Speaking of trees... once we got our "wits" about us (including the hottest shower I've taken in weeks... and I shaved for the first time. In WEEKS. Call me at nine nine fo-fo fo nine nine, pronounced in your raspiest Chamiqua voice), we sauntered downstairs to be sleepily greeted by Looey... "Bahahaha, you going out again?!?!" 

"F no," we exclaimed disgruntledy, in unison.

Pointing to Ann: "You straight head, no drunk... you (pointing to Rabbit) repeat self 12 times- Mi Dispiace (I'm sorry, over and over again), and you (pointing to yours truly), "Sway like tree in wind" (insert jazz-hand motion). #17 on Whit's Top 25 Finer Moments In Life! (yes, there are AT LEAST 25)... after bidding "MOLTO DISPIACIUTA" (very sorry), we Hi-5ed each other out the door for another epic night and grabbed a sando and a cappuccino 4 times too small, unsatisfying and uneffective.

We mastered the metro self-help ticket machine and jumped into a crowded stinky can... I reminded my nurse and lawyer compadres to mind the gap and their purses since pick-pocketers were ubiquitously scanning and slyly pouncing on "touristas," though I've yet to encounter any problems. If they are unable to tactfully reach inside, out comes a razor blade, to slit the bottom of your satchel, forcing your loose articles to trickle out the bottom into their filthy hands. We were "theftily" pushed onto the metro and I gave my famous "Don't mess with me" glare to an adolescent brat shoving me in the back... after posting up on the opposite side of the train, I realized a woman sitting behind me resembled a slit sack gypsy wack, so I pulled "Trixie" in front of me. I watched (insert choice words here) "the young girl" jump off the train just before the doors slammed shut... I suddenly looked down at my beloved Trixie and realized she'd been fondled and taken advantage of! And it is "tricky" to get this hussy unzipped (hence the reason I picked her up off the corner- she's tough)... luckily (I'd like to think) my death glare made my potential crook think twice about stealing from a 6'2" blond into a confined space and mess with a B.V. member... this "supposedly” innocent 7th grader was really a con-artist trying to rob my darlin'... enclosed was my ITouch, credit, debit, deck-o-54 cards and a fresh pack of fruit Mentos... they are cunning little boogers, but my Trixie was taught by the Master Trickster... don't mess with tall b!tches. Period, end of story. Rabbit lightened my mood by telling me about a 400 pound patient that came in (to give birth to a baby seal) and her fellow male colleague, "Nurse Focker," told her he'd get the IV while she "kept her wet..." Later informing her that he stuck the needle in and "straight sausage gravy came out!" I threw up in my mouth, but was instantly uplifted for some sickening reason...

We eventually reached the Colosseum, Yeah! Since I've been, I stationed myself outside the station in the grass to sketch... After an hour and a half of tourists walking by grinning and skeptically approaching me, looking for permission to catch a glance of my masterpiece and making conversation about how they were "in the Peace Corps with this guy from Cincinnati who liked to draw and I used to take pictures of his stuff and you remind me of him, because you're drawing... and he used to draw... R.I.P. Paul..." Good God! That is either the most bassackwards way of hitting on someone, or you're simply a creepy Japanese bi-linguist. I couldn't wait for the "animals" to escape from the slaughtering portion of their tour so we could continue on through the Forum... it was about 3:30 and the light was positively enchanting. Calm breezes added a pinch of life to our hung over mugs during our gladiator portrait montage... shadows came to life from behind stoic pillars that watched over the sacred grounds... Constantine and his men may rest easy, understanding that their victories are not only acknowledged, but silently admired and still respected to this day. 

For leaving only an afternoon to "see" Rome, we metroed across the city to see "The City," the Vatican City that is... I was bound and determined to smuggle my pets to the top of Saint Pete's Basilica for a fantastic view of the "other" city... unfortunately the roof closes at 5 p.m. on Sundays and we hustled in at 5:45... shucks. Pete's front doors close at 6 p.m., so instead of rushing through the largest Christian church in the world, we opted for crepes and gelato. Yes, both crepes, and gelato. WHEN IN ROME! A big, fresh, warm crepe smothered in Nutella kept the ravenous Animal and I content while we waited in line for "Old Bridge" gelato (outside the Vatican walls)... Rabbit phoned her fiancé as we licked dripping Nutella from our fingertips, informing the darling elderly women behind us "Si, we are getting gelato, AS WELL." She died laughing and told us all her grandchildren's names and their favorite flavors... Blood orange and strawberry made my life worth living- AMAZING. We wandered through streets, in silence, until we licked our last lick and decided shopping was in order. After poaching a potential dinner spot, we did some damage in Diesel, Italian shoes stores and the next best thing to French lingerie, Italian lingerie... I don't know what is programmed in a credit card to trigger your appetite, but it is uncanny! We returned to Zigaetana Ristorante where we found ourselves in a gluttonous ecstasy... warm rosemary focaccia, a bucket-o-mussels in tomato broth, fried saffron rice, polenta, mozzarella and anchovies. And that was just the beginning! I went with the pumpkin tortellini with mussels, clams, prawns and tomatoes... so filling, flavorful and heavenly... we began with a bottle of chilly vino bianco and finished with a pistachio tiramisu (good, but not mind blowing). We basically worked off at least half of our calories laughing our guts out, embarrassing our waiter "Jimbo" and the model couple behind us... we agreed that we are allowed to be lesbians in Italia because the women are so gorgeous, it just doesn't make sense! Maybe they've never TASTED homemade pasta and gelato! (Look, but don't touch...)

We slooooowly made our way back to our home metro, Barbarini and grabbed some Big Gulps of H2O from a happenin' little grocery/cafe'... where some PRIZE WINNING tunes i.e. Simply Red's "You Make Me Feel Brand New” blared out of Italian speakers... don't mind the fact that they were being BELTED by "Abhayankari" our Asian cashier... sing with me now:

"God bless you... TAT'LL BE 8 AND 56 EUROS, PER FAVORE...


You make me feel bLand new...


For God blessed me wiT you...


You make me feel bLand new...

I sing Tis song because you...

 GRAZIE, CIAO...
Make me feel bLand new."

Worst lyrics in Billboards Hot 100 circa 1974, yet brought back by popular demand, by (drum roll please....) "ABHAYANKARI!!!" Great time in Roma... off to Florence tomorrow... CIAO!

DAY 61: "What's that smell like?"

Waking up with a hangover and blurred vision only inspires movies quotations, specifically from The Hangover…

Ann: “There’s a tiger in the bathroom!”

Whit: “Close the curtains Ann, its just Rabbit…”

Ann: “What do tigers dream of when they take their little tiger snooze?”

Whit: “They chase Rabbits…”

Rabbit, exiting the loo: “Rrrrooooaarrrrr.”

Ok maybe not direct quotes, but you get the jest… we were NOT functioning on all 8 cylinders… or 12… EXACTLY. Anyhoo… After some Big Gulps of Italianized American style coffee and cornflakes, we gussied up and ventured to the Bourgese Gardens… I took them to “swan lake” while we bended our ignorant eyes (and tummies) around hotdog and gelato wagons posting up on every corner along the way. After bountiful breathes of fresh air and sunshine, we walked along a “fancy” street above the Spanish Steps, moseyed down through the hordes of adolescents playing hooky to feed their significant other McDonalds French fries, orally mind you, and conveniently found the resto L’Enotec Antica (second offender). We shared a bottle of Aglianico while I enjoyed a chicken Caesar and my present company… we later joined the weekend crowds along Via Del Corso (main shopping street) in a revolt or revolution for some pardon or passing… sounds like a bunch of bowel movements to me…

“Cause we're the 3 best friends that anyone can have and we'll never ever ever ever ever leave each other”… Onto the PANTHEON! Mass was in session… had to kill some time to get inside with 700 other people, so a-samplin’ we went to a great little shop that gave us Lemoncello, Meloncello, Almondcello, Orangecello (of course they aren’t spelled or pronounced like that in Italian…) and globs of tapenade and pesto slathered on toast. With another 30 to spare, I took the animals to the church of St. Francis to see some Caravaggio’s… I proclaimed with a sigh, “I love Caravaggio.” Rabbit asked me, nose in the air, “What’s that smell like?” Laughter ensues as I explain, “Caravaggio is an artist, not a naughty church stench.” We took in 2,000 years of blood, sweat, cement and those 700 cameras (people walk in holding their Cyber Shots in the air, without looking to see where they’re going… they just click away. “How was your trip?” “I don’t know, I haven’t looked at my pictures yet.”) We devoured some gelato (banana & coconut) in Campo di Mairzo while watching a woman beat the snot out of a man at a table in the square… he literally walked away carrying his bloody blazer, plugging his snout trying to stop the pain/embarrassment that he just got whooped by a woman.

I picked up some “highlighting tools” to mend the reverse skunk stripe located down the middle of my scalp… Euro-trash has taken on a whole new persona- I’ve become lower than low maintenance, but this has gone too far. On the way back to the hotel, we stopped (accidentally) at the Trevi Fountain and picked up some wine at a nearby Ma & Pa shop- Ma was crocheting and singing her lungs out to Broadway Hits while Pa reminded us to never travel without a corkscrew. We found ourselves in the lobby of Hotel King, cordially welcomed by Huey, Dewy and Looey and up four flights to our humble abode with Sicilian rosso and laughter so genuine and pure you could eat it with a spoon… recounting a myriad of hilarious, serious, but mostly ridiculous memories over that past 8 years. 2 hours later we agreed that getting our poop in a group was in order, so we slapped some skirts and lipstick on and trotted across town to Campo de Fiori to a fab little resto you are all familiar with (if you’ve stayed up to date with B.V. that is) Cul Da Sac… again with the yummy Australia Shiraz, and triple pate' platter comprised of (again) sweet & sour boar, hare with truffle oil and liver with cognac… For le entrée, I went with wheat pasta with potatoes, spinach, broccoli and of course, cheese. What is Cul da Sac without dessert? Almond tart and a mini chocolate board (I love being back on the “Cuisine Tour-o-Europa”). After forcing down our last sweet morsel and drop of vino from down unda’ we “found” ourselves at the very place I thought I’d NEVER return to… yep, that ramshack that does everything BUT put you in the MOOD. Luckily “Roberto,” the owner, remembered me (and hearts me apparently…) and bought us and our new friend from Anchorage, AK who went to school at U of MT a round- small world… we took turns dancing on tables (in the classiest way possible of course), literally elbowing creepers out of the way so we could have dance-offs with each other and impossing hooker-heel stompin’ bitches… Around 4 a.m. we agreed it was a good idea to see ourselves out, after “Roberto” (who resembles Rosanne Barr with a ‘stache) gave us the sloppy Euro, double air kiss.

Now comes the tricky part… last time I stayed in Rome, I was a trip, slip and stumble away from my hotel. This time, we were clear across town, and although we agreed one of us would stay coherent enough to distinguish our ass from our elbow, no designation materialized, so instead we found a tent with THE BEST veggie sando I’ve ever hovered (‘Chokes, sun dried toms, spinach, mushrooms and gouda. Grilled. I know, right? It was probably tripe...), with the entertainment of Italian young guns, whom Animal stole a beer from after labeling them “D-bags.” We picked a direction while licking our fingers and after 10 minutes decided it would be smarter, safer and saner to grab a taxi ride from “Herman,” whom I am now BFF’s with. We happened to wake “Looey” around 4:50 a.m. and he happily unlocked the door while rubbing his eyes like a baby… speaking of, the 3 of us babes slept like babes… after swaying up the stairs in fits of laughter. More from Roma tomorra, ciao!

DAY 60: Wolfpack "Rome-ing" the Desert...

Today I am going to the zoo. And by zoo I mean I am going to meet "Animal" and "Rabbit," two of my best girlfriends from college (the 1st go-round)... and when the 3 of us get together, we ought to be locked away in a monkey cage. Here's a little introduction to these two hooligans:

Ann "Animal" Annie Vincent, now Davey:

I met Annie sophomore year, circa 2003, during a session of "Power Hour" at Rabbit's casa... after 60 shots of Pabst Blue Ribbon (shot-o-beer each minute for an hour, cued by a tasty montage of Whitesnake & Bon Jovi) without "breaking the seal" (peeing), we knew then and there that we were destined to be friends. In '04 Annie and I moved into 510 W. Hayes followed by 2607 Rose Street the next year where we had absolutely NO fun at all... It's a miracle we even graduated. Unforgettable (or forgettable) memories of throwing the best Homecoming parties in Bozeman, getting robbed, cooking feasts followed by food fights, countless eggs & kegs stand contests... somehow managing to never get arrested... I take full responsibility for setting she and her husband up (you only say that when they end up together...) and was a completely responsible bridesmaid in their wedding 2 summers ago. Little Annie-Are-You-OK will graduate with a Law degree from Laramie, Wyoming in May, after which she and "Silly Philly" will reside in Jackson Hole.

Jennifer "Rabbit" Joy Jourdonnais, soon to be Dunning:

To this day, Rab and I cannot recall the 1st time we met freshman year, but we tangled our webs tightly and never seemed to let go. She is quite possibly, THE funniest person I know... My "Tiny Dancer" who cheered me on during my MSU Basketball games, usually sticking her pom-pom up my ass while I took the ball out of bounds, telling me my fly was down. Numerous outings involved floating the Madison River, stock car races, hiking the M bright and early after a football game celebration and of course, dance parties GALORE. I'll bear witness to her "I-Do's" in August to Kyle, whom she met in "Kill Adelphia" whilst plugging knife wounds and attending to LaFonda's anal leakage (she should write a book JUST on her two years in the Philly ER). Now residing in Kansas City, I am forced to phone her for a fix of Oscar worthy Tracy Lawrence impressions.

So with that, you can imagine how the reunion of the "Brainiac Brunette," "5'2" Comedian" and 6'2" Blond with a hollow leg" will play out... In Italy of all places...

"The Harv" is taking his spring break this week in Brussels, so we rode the train together to Rome, after Rosella kindly dropped us ("The Harv," Luigi, Trixie & myself) off in Perugia. After 3 hours of lovely laughter and conversation, we arrived in Rome Termini just in time for a rain storm and a strike... we went our separate ways (I told him not to do anything I wouldn't do) and I waited for the train employees to put their pants back on and get to work... I had places to go and people to see. Unfortunately 5,000 other people did too, so we all packed into the metal fart coffin like bodies in the catacombs, though I imagine dead people smell better than the pulses surrounding me. It took all the strength I had to squeeze through the metro doors- I felt like I was passing through a time warp and Luigi was getting suctioned back into 1997 while I swam through a mist of skin cells in the underworld of 2010. Finally, the Michael J. Fox in me jumped onto the platform with Team Blond Voyage in tow, gave a head nod to "Doc" and found the Uscita (exit).

I met Annie at Hotel King, right around the corner from the Barberinni Metro stop... we settled in a bit and decided to wait for Rabbit at a little patio outside the Metro stop, with a glass of red. There was no sign of Rabbit, so back to King we skipped to wait in the hotel bar. 2 glasses of wine and a bowl of peanuts (with the skin) later, still no Rabbit. She was supposed to arrive at 2pm. It is now 6:30 pm and we are getting hungry... we left a note with "Huey" (of Huey, Dewy and Looey) and went to find some pizza at Olympio Pizzeria a few blocks away. We started with marinated artichokes and Ann got an anchovy pie (say that 3 times fast) while I got my typical veggie. We picked up Perugina chocolate and Prosecco to celebrate Rab's arrival, but still no word from the little turd... another note left and out on the town we cruised, down the Spanish Steps and by Numb where "Freddie" persuaded us to sit outside while he treated us to champagne and strawberries. Later we walked to the Trevi Fountain and found some almond and coconut gelato before hitting up an Irish Pub and giggling our way back to the hotel around midnight where there was still NO Rabbit!

Visions of seahorses and Turkish delight danced in my head when... KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK.... hopefully it wasn't "Dewy" because I answered the door in my underwear.... RABBITO! I gave her an ass-out hug and invited her into the brothel. Annie was prancing in Vinoland and mumbled greetings to Rab after asking her why she didn't bring more eye shadow options... the tripod is back in action! We fell into comas at a hair past a stretch mark (that's 2:30 a.m. for those of you that don't speak fat...). Big day ahead of us tomorrow- Rome won't know what hit 'em! Ciao ciao ciao!

DAY 59: Mangina?

As I have previously mentioned, sleeping in sweats, waking up, walking across the courtyard to class, in sweats, lookin’ like a homeless person really makes my world twirl… reminds me of my first go ‘round in college, when I was somewhat athletic, playing basketball, and I would go from my house, to practice, to class, back to practice, to class and finally home in sweat pants… all day. The only difference is, I shaved my legs back then. (I’m not here to impress ANYONE. Obviously.) Yogurt and corn flakes ONCE again for breaky… and of course 3 large mugs-o-coffee. I vibrated into class this morning, which consisted of me, dead trees, graphite and an 18th century leather chair… I practiced chiaroscuro to my hearts content and “Conga’s” consent… 3 hours later we huddled in the slop room like swine for more tasty grub… they might as well put buckets on the tables and give each of us a ladle. Lentil soup with pasta and green salad and ol’ reliable, the blood orange…

After doing laundry (for the SECOND time in two months, barf), I continued with my schooling for the day… yes I'm 26 and still in school... more drawing, this time instead of allowing mistakes corrected only by gum eraser, we used pen and created furniture out of letters of the alphabet, chosen by “J.C.,” who allowed only a few minutes for creation… fun exercise to see how different people’s minds work… structural, functional, whimsical, nonsensical… I consider myself the later, in more ways than one. After a few more hours of drawing, I took myself on what I thought would be a quick run before a lecture... 30 minutes turned into 90... I decided to go up through Corciano and instead of looping down on the highway, I went straight across which I thought would lead me around to the next hilltop town, Migiana (all within view from each other), which I cannot help but pronounce "Mangina" and throw "The Harv" into hysterics.  Have you ever SEEN a mangina? Get back to me... so after a steep 30 minutes up a winding road, I realize I don't know where the hell I am, although I can see where I need to go, so I keep trucking, hoping I'll end up there eventually. I come to a curve in the road leading to Belvedere (Vodka? Is that you?) and a private, locked gate that I'm assuming said No Trespassing in Italian. I had 45 minutes to get back to "The Harv's" Botticelli lecture... so of course I choose trespassing over disappointing "The Harv." "Over the River and Through The Woods..." I was in a forest without trails or roads... so I spun myself in a circle, picked a direction and toyed with fate a bit... Oh and p.s. it was starting to get dark. I figure lack-o-lighting makes movies spooky and interesting, why not make my adventure Into The Wild worthy? 30 minutes of hiking down over rocks and through mud, I found a trail running along side a seven-foot tall wall with barbwire looping over the top. I didn't know there was a prison out here? I prayed that I was on the RIGHT side of this property so I didn't have to backtrack up the mountain. Around the corner I spot a Corvette and a huge house. What I didn't spot were two mammoth German Shepherds lunging at me through a wrought iron gate... pretty sure I left a little excrement of myself on private property... I finally found a road that led to a highway and realized I had not only looped around one town, but two, including "Mangina." Five and a half miles later, I arrived at the villa, ran into lecture, realized it was for the other art history class I'm NOT taking (F$%^) and showered instead. What would Blond Voyage be without a dumb blond?

Dinner consisted of mushroom risotto, turkey and French fries (rando)... tomorrow I am ditching school for a week (grateful to "Conga'" and "The Harv") to meet two girlfriends from college... I'll play tour guide through Rome, Florence and Cinque Terre. Good times and even better stories are soon to come! Stay tuned... Ciao!

DAY 58: Whata’ Rebel

Apologies for slacking on Blond Voyage… we were on strike for a few days… bloggers will be rollin’ in one after the other and you will soon learn why the gang has been MIA… you won’t wanna miss it. These Marfan syndrome (abnormally long digits… opposite of cloven hooves i.e. “Nightmare Before Christmas” appendages- Google it) fingers are click’clackin’ as fast as possible!

Digital Italy has official commenced… it’s nice to carry around a 17 inch darkroom everywhere I go. Though it is somewhat unfortunate that the art of photo developing has dwindled because it truly is a magical process- the element of surprise that awaits on photo paper and water is like finding out if you got that scholarship or job… little caterpillars rolled up in cocoons itching to become bootiful buttaflies. (That took on a sick Survivor cuisine twist.. just go with it.) Even though I love the creative process, I have more of an instant gratification personality, so being able to download 500 shitty photos and Photoshop the life out of them to become Ansel Adams-worthy is great… just kidding, every picture I take is A.A.-worthy- I’m THAT good.

“Conga’” gave us a morning full of tutorials on our Mac-Daddies and de-stupefied those of us who are technologically handicapped. Being a part of the “Slash Generation” has some serious advantages… I am a designer/skier/metalsmith/writer/photographer/sister/climber/bitch. Nowadays you have to wear several different hats to make it in this industry… Lord knows I love my hats. 4 hours of photo editing and computer skillz, we broke for lunch… yummy salad full of peppers, tommies, fennel and carrots, spaghetti carbonara (tastes like breakfast pasta- eggs and bacon with noodles) and of course my 87^th blood orange. Our afternoon class was SLR 101… I am IN love with my Canon Rebel. The difference in picture taking I’ve experienced is night and day… literally, because you can actually tell if it is night or day.  There is a plethora of information to absorb concerning photography, and “Conga’” is a great mentor since he professionally photographs and writes for several car magazines. You just squeeze him and information pours out… lucky to have him on the this trip.

After sitting in front of my Mac for 7 hours today, my eyes were ready to pop out of my head and my pancake ass needed some activity (get your mind out of the gutter), so I ran up to Corciano, through town and back in the dark. It got pretty interesting running through a quiet, foreign little town, down and around hills, using my IPod as a flashlight, praying potholes would get outa’ my way. I managed to keep my ankles un-rolled and up until a bunny rabbit jumped out from behind a bush, startling the snot outa’ me, just as I reached the villa gardens, forcing me to jump and slip on wet rocks. Not only am I a designer/skier/metalsmith/writer/photographer/sister/climber/bitch, but I’m graceful as a rhino in a baby crib to boot. Dinner consisted of  penne with pesto and an antipasta plate with caprese salad, proschuetto and cheese. I’ve had more starch in the last week than a Korean Dry Cleaner goes through in a year. 2 blood oranges for dessert, passing on some cakey-moussey-chocolatey-Little Debby looking bunt… Not only am I a designer/skier/metalsmith/writer/photographer/sister/climber/bitch/ungracefulKlutz, I’m an active pursuant of Professional Orange Peelers of Umbria. More Tomorry! Chika-chika-chow-chow…

DAY 57: Mystical magic

If I could send a fruit basket to the inventor of sweatpants, I would... unfortunately, there is no one person to thank for this anomaly. The chief characteristic distinguishing cotton sweatpants from other athletic pants is the elastic band located around the cankles (An aesthetically unfortunate physiological condition which leaves its victims with no discernible narrowing of the ankle between the calf and the foot- don't hide those pretty little thangs...). They are usually quite "baggy" and loose which makes them easy to slip into (and out of) and allows a great deal of flexibility and comfort, especially key for stomach expansion due to exorbitant amounts of consumption. In addition, this design traps less heat than most conventional trousers, which may be a disadvantage in some contexts (when you're visiting Antarctica) and an advantage in others (such as body heat caused by aerobic activities or thinking too hard). If I wasn't obsessed with my wardrobe and the art of fashion, I would live in sweatpants. I have slept in, eaten in, gone to class in and gotten down with the funky bunch in my mystic blue sweatpants for the last THREE days. (Dating sign-ups will be available at the end of this lecture... midgets save your pencil lead. Unless you invented sweatpants...)


After an early run looping up to and through Corciano and down along the highway, day 1 of "actual" class started today at the villa.... Advanced Drawing with Mr. Jeffery Conger. Yes I was wearing my mystic blue sweatpants.... maybe they need a name too... He critiqued our travel journals thus far ("Great on the writing part... need to see more drawings"- knew that was coming) We started with cups... still life's ain't my gig, but I trucked through and drew 3 horribly deformed cups. Once again, I was waiting for Celine to float into the room, singing "It's  all comin' back, it's all comin' back to me now..." after about 3 hours of cuppage, we put our graphite down and headed to lunch... Salad! Yessss... With cheesy pasta casserole! Nooooo... and of course an orange. *SIDENOTE* If there was a timed event for orange peeling, I'd take the silver... style points would be lacking, as I need to work on the "initial break-through"... I've mastered the "single peel" (removing the peel in one clean spiral) and the "equal halves" (removing the peel in two equal pieces). I have 3 more months to prepare for a gold-worthy performance. *END OF SIDENOTE* Back to the drawing board this afternoon where Rosella surprised us with one of her "special" cakes... layered yellow and red cake with chocolate pudding on top, all in a big bowl (?). One bite was enough for me! An art history discussion followed an afternoon of etch-a-sketch... the rise of Rome, the fall of Rome, Humanism, Religion, Iconography, Reformation, Counter Reformation, Winkin, Blinkin and Nod-off... JESUS! All very interesting to those interested, therefore much too political and dull for all of you (dumbies). Dinner was served in our family style dining room with a barrel vaulted ceiling... veggie soup (yes with pasta), baby snausages and mashers. SO much food... just look at all the food included in one paragraph, Ugh! So good, yet so much...


It snowed all day today... complete white out for a few hours. Luckily it doesn't stick... if I am surrounded by this much snow, I want to be strapped to my Salomons scoping my next line... I'm in Italy! I want to frolic barefoot through olive trees in a sundress with nymphs while satyrs serenade us with music pipes... C'mon! (I joke, I joke) More from Pieve della Vescovo tomorrow, ciao my dear friends...

DAY 56: You'll shoot yer eye out!

The 8th of March marks International Women's Day- celebrating political, economic and social achievements of women all of the world... as if Mother's Day and Valentine's Day aren't enough. I suppose if National Ferris Wheel Day exists, why not have one dedicated strictly to chicks? Primarily in Italia, men give yellow mimosa flowers and chocolates to the important women in their lives... I received a socialist propaganda bouquet from "Stefano" the lobbyist. Deeply touched... Aleolus, the God of wind decided to grace us with his presence today when we "learned how to ride the bus!" (I swear I feel like I'm in 4th grade sometimes...) The sad part is that some people really wouldn't know what to do or where to go... Lord knows I was a public transportation wizard in Dublin, but we are out in the boondocks here. So, after 2 hours of waiting in the wind and rain for a ride, the wolf pack arrived in Perugia, a University town of 36,000 students and the National Gallery of Umbria that is FULL of GUESS WHO!!  I like to think of Jesus wearin' a Tuxedo T-shirt because it says "I want to be formal, but I like to party."  You all know how I feel about Mar-Mar and JC right now... I was kicking and screaming like Ralphie when he wouldn't go down the slide because he had to tell Santa he REALLY wanted the Official Red Ryder Carbine-Action Two-Hundred-Shot Range Model Air Rifle... "I REALLY want Venti Soy Caramel Latte and the last 3 backissues of InStyle!" as my nails grip around a column like a scratching post.  Mar, JC... I love you guys, but I think we need a break. Rosella and "The Harv" talked about a lot of art (that all looked the same... don't tell him I said that) as I contemplated the "affair of sorts" between Mags and JC... no one ever touches on the soapy drama of the "holy heros"... they were humans too... I want the dirt! 


After we toured the museum, Rosella made reservations at Ristorante Ferrari, a great pizzeria that sat all 20 of us at a long table... I really wanted a fatty salad, but they made a deal with us that for 10 Euros, we could get a drink and a pizza... and since I'm the oldest, I need not be difficult (!@#$%^&*), so Prima Vera pie for me- as close to veggies I could get. I sat at the end of the table with Rosella and discussed how art is our medium in expressing ourselves and the ability we as artists have to communicate visually with the world. Speaking without words... what a concept. We also discussed interpreting our dreams... specifically a dream where you see rooms inside of yourself... exploring what you hold inside each room, determining if you need to close certain doors and open others... concluding that your body is a house, a temple and the importance of taking care in what you let in and out. A wonderful metaphor and inspiration for new artwork! After lunch we were assigned to trudge back into the gallery and sketch for an hour... time flies when your drawing- seriously. It felt like 5 minutes... I know when I've taken time away from a medium when I want to throw my sketchbook through a display case... Holy rusty, no pun intended. Through the bummer weather, we made our way to a little art store for supplies and loaded the bus back to Corciano. Rosella had homemade hot chocolate waiting for us in the "yellow room," upstairs in the villa" upon return... I warmed up and caught up on some writing (what I find myself doing any free chance I get) until dinner time. 


There were a few extra guests that joined us for dinner tonight, including a journalist friend of Rosella's that teaches in New York, Felipo Vasta- Rosella's brother and Roberto- Rosella's assistant. Bebe (Rosella's mother) has been cooking us some fine Italian cuisine these last few days, but her Tuscan Bean Soup took the cake tonight. Marinated chicken drummies and potatoes baked with onions left everyone beyond full, pants unzipped. In a few conversations Rosella has mentioned that of all the Universities the Pieve School hosts (about 5 others), Montana State kids are her favorite. She exclaimed that she loves how we laugh and our respect for open spaces... city kids don't always know how to handle themselves or others in rural settings, so she loves it when we arrive because we all feel and act like we're home. And with that, I'll leave you with a quote I stumbled across the other day...

"I am in love with Montana... for other states I have admiration, respect, 

recognition, even some affection; but with Montana it is love and it's 

difficult to analyze love when you are in it."  

-John Steinbeck

I think that sums it up right there... well said Johnny, well said. More tomorrow, Ciao ciao!

DAY 55: STOP YELLING!

Breakfast options include corn flakes, plain yogurt, toast in a plastic wrapper, croissants in a plastic wrapper, Nutella, biscotti and occasionally scrambled eggs... Everyday. (I'm not complaining, I'm just allowing you to experience this with me... so you can base your glee for breakfast choices based on your own personal preferences...) Coffee and cornflakes mixed with yogurt sufficed... different strokes for different folks. Took another run today up to Migiani, a little different route that involved hurdling, failing miserably and slipping on my landing over a gargantuan mud puddle- new white running kicks are no longer white. Good times were had by all.

"Ahhhh, si si!" I reckon a revelation is responsible for the naming of the town "Assisi." Another hilltop town 12 miles east of Perugia, birthplace of St. Francis (patron saint of Italy) and home to 3,000 peeps is where we spent our day. We boarded a short bus and Rosella, cordially gave us a history lesson on the drive, but did so at an octave that a deaf person could hear. She was YELLING into a microphone that transfered from the blaring speakers above our seats to our bleeding ears. I couldn't hear what she was saying, as I was practicing self-restraint and trying to find my happy place... no one but "Bill da' Bus Driver" had the heart to tell her to "STOP YELLING!" We stopped in a small town on the way, to see a church... on a Sunday... in the middle of mass. I refuse to enter churches as a tourist on, Sundays especially, during other people's time for thoughts and prayers- regardless of the religion. As I was standing outside the church in a small square, I looked around and realized that all of the people standing around me were men. "The Harv" agreed that disrupting church is disrespectful and joined me outside to explain that families walk to church together, but only the women and children go in while the men huddle, with leashed pooches, drinking cappuccinos, undoubtedly discussing current events... Riiiight. I decided the "Good Ol' Boys Club" light each others cigarettes, replay the weekend's big soccer match and comment on how tall the blond American is that just walked by... I joined Professors #1 & #2 for a cappuccino on a bench outside, to sit and contemplate the meaning of life.

After the rest of the group joined our leisure, we piled back on the bus to chug up the hill... first stop: Basilica of St. Francis. Although the artist is unknown, art historians are convinced that the 13th century frescos are by Giotti (remember when I was in Padua, and we only got 15 minutes in the Scrovegni Chapel? "The greatest painter to ever live"- according to "The Harv," is believed to have painted Frank's Basilica too!)... I was not nearly as impressed, but I want a divorce from Jesus and will pay for Mary to visit a tailor- meaning I NEED A BREAK from those two! One more dove beaming down from a spaceship cloud to Mar-Mar's unfortunate pear-shaped figure and I will get out my 22. We were released for "recess" after instructions for a photo assignment were explained, so Kate, Jesine and I found a cafe with a buffet... I loaded up on grilled veggies- green beans (my fav!), brussels sprouts, zucchini, cauliflower, eggplant and carrots, and some delicious grilled fish. I heart vegetables more than I heart Seinfeld. After some vitamin D and Omega 3, we walked to a castle on top of the city that lent extraordinary views and torrential winds... a checker board carpet of grass and soil laid below us, littered with dancing cyprus Pawns, castle Kings and chapel Arch Bishops... Mother Natures version of chess. The weather started to change for the worse, dropping in temperature which dropped my enthusiasm for the outdoors. Unless I am on my skis, in powder, on a mountain, I see no reason to tolerate cold weather... but that's just me. We rolled down the hill towards the bus, snapping photos and partaking in a quickie Tai-Chi session led by Conga'... even "Harvetron" performed waking bear. The villa was nice and warm with bowls of piping tortellini and broth waiting for us. Nights now consist of writing and drawing... much preferred after 2 months of non-stop action. Day trip to Perugia tomorrow! CHOW!

DAY 54: You are what you eat?

I am a blog behind. 

Although I do not mind, 

I will be sure to find, 

my fans wondering where I have dined,

 and if it involved an orange rind; 

or if the people were kind.

Nonstop travel makes it hard to rewind

the days that I have left behind.

Thankfully I have scribed & designed,

the adventures that have defined,

how Whit & Europe became entwined.

My oath to you here is signed,

I invite you to read on, if you feel so inclined.

 I am living in one of "the most beautiful villages in all of Italy"... Corciano sits high on a hill, systematically designed in medieval times for security and to always see who was "at the front door." Although there wasn't a cloud in the blue bird sky, it was brisk. At the bottom of the hill, I was in a sweatshirt and down jacket. 20 minutes later at the top of the hill I was reminded what elevation felt like after being at sea level for a month, sucking air and fanning myself, in a t-shirt- buns of steel here I come! Rosella, fellow blondie and complete crack up, showed us around the town, introduced us to the priest and the Gelatoria owner and gabbed on about history intermittently between answering her cell phone and dying laughing at herself. We stopped by the market for snacks since we don't usually receive meals on the weekends... Ritz, carrots, bananas, raisins and almonds. Upon return to the villa at the bottom of the hill, we were informed that we were in fact, provided lunch, being it the first weekend of our stay... green salad followed by pesto gnocchi and a blood orange. You will hear rejoicing from the hilltops the day we don't receive pasta at a meal... I wouldn't hold your breath. 

After settling in for a bit, I went on my first run in my new region... I am surrounded by hills and valleys, though roads are very narrow, lacking shoulders, so running will be similar to an arcade game- Inky, Blinky, Pinky and Clyde are the smart cars speeding around corners, trying to catch me, Pac Woman. I stayed on rural roads and wound my way up to the neighboring hill town, Migiana. It must be mandatory for Italians to own German Shepherds because through every steel gate were black noses and snarled teeth releasing fierce, blood thirsty barks. Here kitty, kitty, kitty... I found a dirt road/trail through the woods that took me as far as a large, impassable mud bog. It was getting dark, so I headed back just in time to enjoy the last sliver of sun slip behind the hills. I "stretched it out" next to the castle... yes, the castle. I know, I pinched myself as I leaned on the stone wall to stretch the calves. The skies were pale pink and misty orange... it was pretty magical. I grabbed a shower and joined everyone for penne with tomato sauce, salad, fried artichokes (pass) and mystery meat with gravy (pass)... so much food. One course is a full meal for me, but they keep coming... I don't want them to think I dislike their food, but I physically cannot consume this much! Michele came in to share some of his homemade "Fragolacella"- strawberry version of Lemoncello. Took advantage of some much needed R&R today... off to Assisi tomorrow! Ciao!

DAY 53: Bloody Hell. Bloody orange.

Whelp, 2 hours of worrisome non-sleep wasn't enough... as you can imagine, I was in a fantastic mood this morning. Exhaustion isn't even a worthy description. Feeding Luigi was similar to feeding a 1 year old... sloppy mess- just shoved things in the hole and called 'er good. Because I did such a successful job packing, I managed to fill my reusable grocery bag, "Oscar" (holds garbage and crap). With Luigi on back, Roo on front, Trixie over the shoulder, Hoebag (small purple) smashed in "Oscar," who was switching from my left hand to right, Team BlondVoyage bid Rome adeu, thanked God for still remaining upright and threw my self into the Tiber. Just kidding... the bus. Threw myself onto the bus. Which quickly took on a basement pub, mortuary stench... it was all I could do to not vomit, let alone come to terms with the fact that it was seeping out of my peers pores. DETOX TIME!

2 hours later we arrived in Corciano... also known as the halfway point between Heaven and Earth. Only the people that are ALMOST perfect get to come here... maybe they stole an orange when they were little or cheated on an Algebra exam in Middle School. Lord only knows how I got so lucky- and I'm not even dead yet!  I'm not sure how to describe my home for the next two months because words do it no justice. But I'll try: imagine winding through tree-covered hills on a narrow road, rising in elevation with each mile behind the tires. Rain lightly sprinkles from the overcast sky that is bigger and brighter than anywhere I've been (ok, besides my second favorite place in the world, Big Sky, Montana)... powder grey acts as a backdrop while ribbons of lavender and plum dash between chubby rain clouds. Almond colored medieval towns stacked on top of one another settle into hillsides everywhere you look... castles rise up out of no where like sleeping giants. We take a sharp right up a dirt road to one of these magnificent sleeping giants, which happens to be our next door neighbor... the villa is situated right beneath the town of Corciano, a steep 20 minute walk away. The wolf pack tirelessly files off the bus, into our "hotel," which sits adjacent to the villa and classrooms. Keep in mind that this hotel and classrooms are nothing like you might imagine... all very old buildings that have been converted, so they have remaining charm  and character. Rosella Vasta is our host- her mother Bebe and father Michele bought the villa 20 years ago and turned it into a business retreat/wedding/vacation destination. Ten years ago Rosella decided to start an International program that hosts university groups studying abroad, including Montana State (we are the 10th group). Rosella is not your typical Italian... she has bright blond hair and is an absolute firecracker. Her paintings cover every wall, as she is a very well known artist in Italy.

After introductions, orientation and "moving in"(rooming with Jesine) were accomplished, we joined Rosella and her assistant in the dining room for lunch... croquettes (small, fried roll filled with mashed potatoes), lasagna, turkey with a mushroom gravy and brownies for dessert. It was all I could do to keep my eyes open, so after an hour of small talk and physically holding my eyelids up, I could not curl up in my bed fast enough... only to lay there, wide awake. Is it possible to be TOO tired to sleep? How can I be in Hell when I'm supposed to be in euphoria? My brain would not shut off, so I laid on my cot/bed, staring at the wood panels on the ceiling. My mood increased exponentially when I had to meet the group for more orientation in a meat locker... err, classroom; followed by dinner... I feel like I have done nothing but sit, lay down and eat today... I win the gold medal in the "Lazy Sack" finals. So MORE food... vegetable soup with pasta (very tasty) followed by salad and a slice of potato/egg pie. For dessert I enjoyed my third blood orange of the day... they've become my latest obsession. So deliciously juicy, I can hardly stand it. I made a special request for salads and vegetables as often as possible at meals... I have a feeling pasta will be served at every meal, so for someone that rarely ever ate pasta before coming to Italy...

After taking a shower and giving Luigi the heimlich, I feel at home. I'm ready to relax, get back in a routine and dust off my drawing skills (it's been awhile since I sat down to sketch for 5 hours at a time). Breath in, breath out... I love fresh mountain air. Ciao ciao ciao...

DAY 52: 'Til the wee hours of the morn

For our last day in Rome, we were to take bus to the Catacombs- mazes of underground tunnels that were used to bury thousands of bodies (burials were forbidden inside the walls of Rome). BUT, because it was raining, and a lot of walking was involved, "The Harv" gave us some options: Catacombs, Avant Garde exhibit at the Museum of Modern Art, or a special Edward Hopper exhibit (my recommendation). A few took a bus out to the Catacombs, everyone else followed "The Harv" to the Avant Garde while "Conga'" (prof. #2)  and I chose the Edward Hopper (perfect since I wasn't in the mood for "group" activities). They set up an exhibit hall right on Via del Corso (shopping street, 10 minute walk from hotel) for Mr. Hopper's famous works containing sketches, etchings and paintings... I've become numb to religious interpretation paintings, so it was a breath of fresh air to walk in and look at America, through the left hand of a 6'5" American. Hopper is best known for capturing intimate moments in people's lives, whether it is someone sitting in a window, or someone crossing the street at night- he brings stark, lonely moments to life. I really enjoyed his sketchbook- he used an accounting notebook, very organized and filled with beautiful drawings. His etchings were breath taking (yes, after I inhaled some fresh, American air, it was quickly taken away)... from a distance, they looked like black and white photographs. I have taken several printmaking classes and know the skill it takes... made me appreciate his even more. The gallery was set up chronologically with his life... he lived in an apartment in New York for over 50 years, and after marrying his wife Jo, she remained his only model, with much of his work sweetly dedicated to her. During his younger years, he traveled and lived in Paris and Italy... it was fun to see/recognize his landscapes (Seine, Arno, Tiber rivers).
Wonderful quote: "If you could say it in words, there would be no reason to paint." Such a romantic and talented individual... when he died at the age of 84 in 1967, his sweetheart donated much of his work to the Whitney Museum of Modern Art in NYC. It is very rare to experience exhibitions of an artists work, together in one location. I am so lucky to have seen this show, along with Caravaggio's days earlier.

After a few humbling hours with Hopper, "Conga'" and I walked to a little resto for lunch. I drank a cappuccino and ate a salami sando I'd packed, while Jeff tried the famous potato pizza we've been seeing everywhere (thinly sliced potatoes with rosemary and mozzarella). We had a great conversation about the impact traveling has on a person and how it molds one's character and outlook upon return. There was a Grace Kelly exhibit I really wanted to see, so we sat on the Spanish steps while we waited for it to open... I got a little camera 101 while we took pictures of rose venders, tourists and high school kids playing hooky. Once in front of Grace Kelly's pretty face, we realized that the exhibit ended last weekend- Rats! I was on a hunt for running shoes, so Jeff joined me in the wonderful world of Adidas... SCORE! I  am the happiest girl on Earth, with comfortable tootsies! We parted ways and I walked around more (I heart alone time)...

In celebration of Becca's birthday and our last night in Rome, "The Harv" made us reservations at a resto... that he couldn't find after we all walked around for 30 minutes, so he picked a random place and all 17 of us shlepped inside. *WARNING* This is where the night turns into an absolute dog and pony show...
7:41pm: Dinner is great... I order a salad and seafood linguini and slip away to order a dessert for the birthday girl. "Marcello the Grouch" brings me INTO  the kitchen, to pick out a cake... "One piece of chocolate cake please!" He agrees, confirming I wanted "just one" piece....
9:28pm: "Marcello" slyly brings the cake out... "Happy Birthday" ensues, along with 16 more pieces of cake. Whit is pissed but rides it out since it's Becca's big day.
9:46pm: Bill arrives. 17 pieces of cake at 4.50 Euros a pop= a 77 Euro cake (107 USD). Whit is irate. Whit removes herself hastily from the table, huddles "Marcello," "Marcello's" interpreter/busboy and "Old Man Diner" the owner together. After an upheaval of papers, throwing of pencils, spitting and several profane arm gestures later, "Old Man Diner" knocked off 10 Euros, ONLY because he was sick of looking up at me.
9:58: Devin goes to the bathroom, bumps a table to get by a waiter, knocks over an entire bottle of wine, turns to grab it, knocks two glasses over, breaking one that fell to its death on the tile floor.
9:59pm: "Marcello" enters room. "Marcello" turns bright red, temple veins strained, teeth on the grind.
9:59:32pm: "Conga'" jumps up, offers to pay for the bottle, smoothes things over, etc. etc.
10:01: Embarrassed members of the group disperse like field mice back to the hotel.
10:17pm: Pre-gaming commences.
10:23pm: Whit straightens Kate's head of brunette ringlets.
11:44pm: People start making their way to MOOD (dance club).
12:04am: Whit enters MOOD. Whit realizes there is an open bar. Whit finds majority of the group at bar.
12:41am: 4 minutes left of open bar. Wolfpack moves in.
12:42am: 3 minutes left of open bar. Wolfpack consumes copious amounts of choice bevies.
12:43am: 2 minutes left of open bar. Wolfpack decides to see how much they can drink in 2 minutes.
12:44am: 1 minute left of open bar. Whit realizes she is having deja vu, and decides to pass on binge drinking. Whit watches a full moon rise over the wolfpack... debauchery begins.
1:17am: Devin gets jumped by 2 Spanish guys. Devin has a swollen face. Becca Jessie and Whit take care of Devin and decide to gather the rest of the wolf pack.
1:20am: Whit and Jessie realize none of the wolfpack is left in the club. Whit and Jessie are really happy about this.
1:21am: Whit walks up stairs to see if anyone is outside. The bouncer informs Whit that we cannot leave, because the Spaniards are waiting outside for us and will follow us home. Whit is stoked.
1:47am: Whit goes back upstairs after sitting, icing Devin's mug to ask the bouncer if we can leave yet. He informs Whit that they have a taxi coming to pick us up. Whit sees the Spaniards in a 10 man brawl in the street. Whit is really looking forward to the next 10 minutes.
2:03am: Bouncer, club owner and security guards create a human barricade for us to pile into the taxi and speed away. Whit is sympathetic for Cameron Diaz and understands why she decked a paparazzi.
2:16am: Arrive back at hotel to realize 3 people are still missing. Whit's motherly instinct kicks in immediately. Whit and Jessie put on tennis shoes and go back out to search for the missing.
3:30am- Whit and Jessie return, out of luck to the hotel, to find 2 of the 3 missing persons. Whit swallows a lump the size of an Easter egg. Whit and Jessie go back out to search for the missing.
4:42am: Whit and Jessie scour the city of Rome. Whit and Jessie walk EVERYWHERE. Whit and Jessie return to the club 3 times throughout the night, search every open bar and resort to yelling as if in a forest. Whit and Jessie are discouraged, worried and exhausted.
5:09am: Whit and Jessie return. Still no missing person.
5:30am: Whit is unable to give anymore details, for safety, embarrassment and other respect issues. Needless to say the missing person returned safely, only to be pummeled to death by yours truly. Just kidding. I'm grateful everyone got home safe and sound.
5:39am: Whit finally goes to bed. Whit promises that if I publish this blog someday, I will include all (most) of the details of what this ridiculous night entailed. If you thought that was good, just wait.

When in (M-Fing) Rome! What a day/night/morning... off to the villa in Perugia tomorrow, where I will get some much needed R&R. CIAO.