Wednesday, December 5, 2012

General Apology...

This was an undertaking that I was clearly unprepared for. I have since realized that I am a slacker who knows no bounds... As much as I enjoy writing these posts (truly, I do... I crack myself up) I find that not exerting any effort at all is just so much easier.
Spark Notes:
Europe is super fun.
Baguettes in Paris, beers in Munich, the inexpensive glory that is Prague, fake British accent and those red phonebooth things in London, salsa dancing and exhaustion in Madrid, truffles in Bologna... maybe I'll post more detailed stories when I get back to America.
But probably not.
DON'T LOSE FAITH IN ME
(but it's probably best if you do...)

Sunday, September 30, 2012

Sigh of Relief

Dear Precious Reader,

I can practically hear you squeal in excitement wherever you are because yes, I am back, and boy do I have some stories for you.
I must apologize for my lack of posting... It has been a month since my last post, on my honor, or may I be chopped up and turned into soup. 
Let's start from the top:
My last post told the story of the adventurous adventure park and that, my dear friends, was my final day in Cortina.
I spent the weekend in Venice at the Biennale- an art exhibition held every year which featured both a film festival and an architecture feature this year. This event marked the beginning of my temporary job.
Carlotta and Nicola produce an architecture magazine called The Plan, and they decided to launch their new social platform at the Biennale this year. I went with them and functioned as an intern- handing out invitations to randos, putting up signs, giving out free goodies, and getting people to subscribe to the magazine.
Even though I was there to work, Carlotta and I did take a night off to visit the film festival... Zac Efron's new movie was premiering and we decided to get tickets. Unfortunately, the premier Zac was going to was already sold out, so we were forced to watch in the theater next door with the general public... how humiliating. So much for my plan to casually rub elbows with Zac, have him realize that I have "it" and then have him make me famous... Maybe next time.
I didn't even get his autograph! Ughh.
My Venetian weekend also included some museums, and a touch of sightseeing (Piazza San Marco at night... wow). We also left just moments before the entire Grand Canal was shut down for the Historical Regatta. The event has been held annually for thousands of years, so they're clearly still trying to get it to catch on...
Once back in Bologna, I immediately began working for The Plan. I created a twitter account, helped update the official Facebook page, and edited the English translations. Shameless plug. 
I worked for two weeks, taking a day trip to Verona in the process (that day requires it's own separate entry), and finally, it was time for my semester to start.
On September 16, I headed to Florence.

Thursday, August 30, 2012

The Aptly Named "Adventure Park"


August 27
I spent the day at the local ropes course (literally called “Parco Avventure”) and needless to say, it was aptly named. The park itself is a sort of obstacle course, but built into tall larch trees. There are many different courses, each varying in their degree of difficulty, but whether it’s the smallest course designed for 8 year olds, or the most difficult course available only to adults, each ends in a glorious zip line, making up for such discomforts as shaky knees and emasculating squeals.  
However, the afternoon’s story has nothing to do with the park itself, it simply provided the unsavory characters and unstable terrain upon which the story unfolded…
As we were going to spend the entire afternoon outside, Anna decided that rather than leave her dog, Spike, home alone, it would be prudent to bring him with us. What started as a reasonable decision turned out to be the “if only we hadn’t…” part of this anecdote.
Anna, being the most responsible/only Italian-English translator in our party, headed into the main office to negotiate ticket payment and the signing of the waivers, so it fell to me to hold Spike. Surveying our surroundings, Spike and I spotted an adorably friendly-looking black lab, so naturally we went over to make his acquaintance. However, much to our surprise, this dog was in no mood for friendly butt sniffing, and decided that Spike would make a better chew toy than a sidekick. I found myself caught in the middle of this tussle, tangled up in two leashes, and desperately kicking at Spike’s assailant. Carlo, seeing my distress, ran up and threw a sweatshirt over our foe’s face, momentarily disorienting the dog while he pulled Spike away from the scrap. However in his haste, Carlo failed to see the steps behind him, and fell backwards, breaking his fall on his arm. He eventually righted himself and appeared fine, but we later discovered that he had slightly fractured his right wrist, but Carlo is a tough grandpa and sports his new cast proudly (though he waited until we were done climbing before he deemed it necessary to visit the emergency room).

Wednesday, August 29, 2012

America vs. Italy Musings


Aside from being offered cheese in place of dessert, there are a few other things that are rather different over here in Italia. I have been making special mental notes about them in the hopes of collecting enough to make an entry out of them… It’s a work in progress.
1.     Cheese: no matter how many times it’s offered to me, and clearly no matter how many times I mention it here, I still won’t get used to it. Coming from a country that specializes in junk food, it’s quite strange to be offered a hunk of bleu cheese instead of an Oreo and a glass of milk. I absolutely love it, but it’s still a strange concept.
2.     Clothes: this one requires a bit more explanation… In Cortina, the traditional clothing is similar to that of Germany (lederhosen and whatnot). However, I was unaware that it is still considered acceptable to dress children in such clothing on days other than October 31… What I thought was an attempt at irony, turned out to be a widely occurring thing. I will post a picture of one such child as soon as I can get one.
3.     Those 6 Glorious Inches: you know the ones I’m talking about. That small swatch of cloth that covers that critical area of man-thigh just above the knee. That tiny region which American males so desperately cover with long, baggy shorts, are paraded about by Europeans without any regard for common decency. It has been quite a culture shock.
4.     Food: it’s amazing. My afternoon snack looked like something I would serve as an appetizer for an esteemed guest. I think I’ll be okay here. 
5.     Snacks: there are none. I have taken to hoarding a personal stash of nectarines in my room, which I find I have to replenish every couple of days. It’s like these Italians have never heard of secondbreakfast, elevensies, or even afternoon tea.
6.     Humor: I hang out with a 13 year old whose second language is English. Don’t get me wrong: she’s amazing. Very mature for her age, and hysterical, but through an unfortunate combination of the language barrier and our age difference, I find my jokes are often lost on her. This pains me. Without constant access to twitter to vent my constant random musings, or texting to share my latest mishap, I find myself unable to share my more amusing thoughts, my most recent one being this morning’s realization: The house/ski cabin I currently reside in is constructed out of wood (duh), but the floors aren’t the finished wooden floors I’m used to from my own home, they have a more natural feel to them. This is great. It lends the house a very authentic atmosphere, which makes me feel like I should be yodeling with my pet goats. However, because the wood is unfinished, it leaves feet vulnerable to splinters. Unaware of this hidden danger, on the first night I was running around barefoot like some savage. Giovanna nearly had a heart attack, found a pair of slippers for me, and insisted that I always wear them when in the house. It wasn’t until I put them on this morning that I realized how ridiculous I looked: while Guido and Anna donned their adorable blue and red slippers lined with wool and embroidered with snowflakes, I was schlepping around in old, albeit comfortable red grandpa slippers. Without even realizing it, I would put on a skirt or a dress for the day, and then complement my outfits with my slippers, sometimes going so far as to rock my always-patterned socks with them... I cringe even now as I type. Though my father would commend me for my choice of comfort over fashion, my mother would be torn between fits of hysterical laughter, and outright shame. Thank goodness my only witnesses are people who already love me for my wit and sparkling personality.

Here, Where Dessert is Cheese


An Account of 3 Days in Cortina

August 24
A combination of breakfast, lunch, and dinner, interspersed with a walk into town with Anna and her dog Spike, and telling jokes (the same ones as the day before) with Fabio, his wife, and his little son Federico. (Fabio joined Carlotta and Isabella in America for a few summers as children)

August 25
A little bit of seasonal confusion after I went skating and drank the most delicious hot chocolate pretty much ever made. Then came a pizza dinner with Anna’s American friends who recently moved to Bologna.

August 26
Wait a second… it rains in Narnia??
Typical rainy day spent inside: more hot chocolate, and Anna and I made pancakes. Carlo and Giovanna had their friends over for dinner, and Giovanna made me try grappa… Apparently it’s an acquired taste (one I haven’t quite acquired yet). 

Side Note: I’m terribly sorry if my daily reports bore you, but this blog is not so much for you as it is for me. I plan to show this to my children one day, and I work with the material I’m given so calm down and go read Calvin and Hobbes if you need entertainment.

Tuesday, August 28, 2012

For Those of You Feeling a Bit Lost...

For those of you still with us: I’ve thrown a lot of information at you over the past few entries. Here’s some quick notes that I think will help clear up any confusion.
When my mom was a kid, he parents found an Italian family that wanted to expose their children to America/the English language. Naturally, neither couple having actually met the other, they both decided to do a sort of exchange: every summer there would be an exchange of children. This created a lasting friendship among the two families which is still alive today.
My mother became bestiezzz with the eldest daughter Carlotta, and we try to see them at least once a year. Carlotta and Nicola have two children: Anna, 12 (my little sister Olivia’s age) and Guido, 8. This is the family we went to Croatia with.
Carlo and Giovanna, Carlotta’s parents are still intent on keeping the child exchange alive, so when I decided to stay in Italy for the three weeks between when the family vacation ended and my program began, they were more than excited. I am currently living in their ski cabin, just chillin with the two of them plus Anna and Guido. Now, back to your regularly scheduled programming.

My Life as Julie Andrews (with English subtitles)

August 23
My short-lived stay in Bologna was over. I packed for Cortina and Venice, and went into the city with Nicola and Anna.
While Nicola tied up some lose ends at work, Anna took me shopping in the city. Little known fact: in Italy, all the sales happen AT THE SAME TIME. Guess what time it was when I got there? Yep. You guessed it. Sale time. The two of us shopped for a bit before heading to her grandparents’ (on Nicola’s side) apartment. Once there, I met Anna’s great-grandparents, who taught me how to play a card game called Machiavelli, which is so super fun.  
Then came the 3 ½ hour drive into the Alps, to a little town called Cortina (home of a smattering of the Olympic events when they were held in Torino).
Anna and I then took her dog Spike for a walk. We ended up on this gorgeous hill covered with wildflowers, so naturally I started twirling and singing in a way that I hoped would be even slightly reminiscent of this, but probably ended up being more like this.
Then came the real work. Though both the children I am living with (Anna and Guido) speak English fluently (as do their parents, Carlotta and Nicola), their grandparents (Carlo and Giovanna, whose house I am living in) do not. Neither Carlotta nor Nicola could join us on this mountainous getaway, so I have found myself stranded in Italy, being forcefully taught Italian. (yes, this was the plan, I did intend for this to happen, but that DOES NOT make it any easier, and half the time I find myself standing there, utterly lost.). HALP.

Abandonment Issues


August 22
My family left me, I left for Bologna (lol, not bologna), and I was adopted by my new Italian family. The end.

All the Strangest Humans are Tour Guides


August 21
I’ll be the first to admit that I would not be picked as a human representative if we ever have the need for intergalactic ambassadors. I say this because, in case it isn’t already glaringly obvious, I do not fit the definition of “normal”. I have embraced my strangeness because I believe I have more fun that way, but as a direct result of this, I have a special place in my heart for humans who are odd, strange, or abnormal because we weirdos have to stick together.
That said, Claudia, our Coliseum tour guide was in a category all by herself. Between her tortoise pace, old man hat, and her lack of any knowledge of Roman history, the five of us (mom + my 3 siblings) were torn between hysterical laughter, and the need to smack her across the face. Rather than teach us anything of value, she was insistent upon repeating obvious and well-known facts, laughing at comments that couldn’t be considered jokes no matter what language she said them in, and pointing out the presence of policemen to those of us who were blind as well as hopelessly incompetent. Needless to say, we bailed before she could force us to walk around the slave pit one more time.
Though our escape was 100% necessary to maintain our mental stability, we still felt a twinge of regret when we realized we would be missing out on some important historical sights. This brought us to the decision to visit both the Pantheon and the Trevi Fountain. (Insert stereotypical tourist photo-ops here)
Next came naps back at the hotel, more shopping, and then our last dinner in Rome, so naturally, we find ourselves at a French restaurant. Typical.

Monday, August 27, 2012

Sore Feet and Empty Wallets


August 20
My dad left early for work, bailing on the most glorious segment of our trip: sight seeing and shopping.
While he was busy flying back to America, we spent the morning in the Vatican. I still haven’t quite sorted out how I truly feel about that tour… My cynical feelings towards the Catholic church aside, emotionally, I was torn between amazement, with regards to the truly awe-inspiring works of art and architecture, and discomfort, a direct result of sore legs/feet (shakes fist at Rome’s hilly landscape, special emphasis on the Spanish Steps) and the presence of the massive amounts of humans pressing in on all sides (apparently, Rome is one of those “deodorant optional” cities).
We finally left St. Peter’s Basilica as exhaustion and hunger washed over us only to discover that we were still two hours shy of our next meal. The pure devastation felt by our entire group was palpable, however it was quickly remedied by the decision to walk endlessly without a proper destination! The sigh of relief was like a gale force wind, as I’m sure you can imagine. Though this arrangement was made under the pretext of killing time in the name of materialism, only those in the group over the age of 13 and lacking in male genitalia were truly happy with it.
Being one of the lucky few belonging to that very specific class of humans, I can honestly say that I was very supportive of the plan, and my closet definitely benefited.
Between the shopping, lunch, and more shopping, our good friends the Leonardis left us for Bologna.
Following a quick siesta in the hotel, our diminished crew headed out for dinner where our wonderfully adorable waiter shamelessly flirted with each one of us (save for my poor, left out brother).
But seriously. Italy and Croatia both LOVE their stairs. 

Dubrovnik: The Final Days


August 17
Relatively uneventful. We spent the afternoon swimming in the pool and reading. For dinner we went into Dubrovnik.
August 18
Maria and Aiden came by the house for lunch, and afterwards we went to a nearby village where Maria’s cousins live. That afternoon/evening definitely falls under the heading of “perks that come with knowing a native”… The village was a small one, but Maria took us to her family’s usual swimming spot, which happened to be THE MOST gorgeous place evaar. We swam and sunbathed on the rocks for a few hours before heading to dinner. 
Though the place we ate at fit the general description of a restaurant. Like most restaurants, we had to make a reservation, but in this particular case, it was so that they could prepare enough food for us because it took several hours to slow cook on their grill. For this reason it had a fixed menu; the only real decision we had to make was whether we wanted to drink the wine they made themselves, or some Croatian beer.
August 19
Due to sleep deprivation, this day is more of a blur… An early wake up call brought us to the airport around 7, and we landed in Rome around 9. To kill time and prevent unintentional napping, we had a delicious lunch, and then went to Via Borghese, a beautiful park with a panoramic view of the city. After a hellish run courtesy of my father and brother, we met up with our Italian friends again for an authentic Roman dinner.

**IMPORTANT NOTICE**


Due to a dangerous combination of laziness and lack of WiFi, all the entries from the past 9 or so days will be entered at once. Please ignore the date in the heading, and look only at the date I have written… I’m trying desperately to keep this jumble of events organized chronologically.

Friday, August 17, 2012

Dad, Disney, Dehydration.

Today was my dad's 50th birthday, so to celebrate, we rented a boat. We visited three of the major islands that are off the coast of Dubrovnik, whether it was to swim or to eat. This amazing day was brought to you by the organizational powers of my mother, and our dear captain Matto. I ended up getting amazing pictures of the Croatian coastline, our entire group, and the breathtaking landscape of the island Å ipan, so all together, the day was a pretty big check in the "win" column.
There was but one distraction: throughout the day, for periods of 10-15 minutes, I would get a random Disney song stuck in my head. Out of nowhere, Gaston's song from Beauty and the Beast pops into my head, or I catch a few bars of Nicki Minaj's Starships and all of a sudden, I'm humming Colors of the effing Wind (interesting side note: the only sign language I know is based on that song). Though this was a hurdle I struggled to overcome today, it was only a small bump in the road compared to the valley of perpetual sorrows we trekked through on Å ipan.
If you'll recall my mom's friend Maria... As the only native Croatian we were in contact with at the time, we turned to her for advice on daily activities. She immediately recommended that we go to Å ipan, have the boat drop us off at the first port, walk across the island, and leave from the second port. Full disclosure: the walk was beautiful and I'm so happy we did it. That said, it took us an hour, it was like a million degrees Celsius, and the sun was frying us like ants through a magnifying glass. Needless to say, a beer has never tasted as good as the jumbo one I ordered for lunch.
All in all, the day was a huge success. I'm too lazy to post pictures right now, but I'm working on a way to post a massive amount in one place... people keep recommending this website called Face Book? I'll check it out, but in the meantime, find me on MySpace

Wednesday, August 15, 2012

Cool Story Bro


In case you didn't already know, both my parents went to Boston College. While at school, they became very close friends with a Croatian woman. (Her life story is a fascinating one, but not quite relevant to today's post. Perhaps I'll come back to that later) Anyways, as a native to Dubrovnik, she knew all the best places for us to visit, so when we spent the day in the city, she joined us and acted as our tour guide.
We spent the day walking around the city. This included a pit stop at a crepe stand, beers by the sea, a visit to the oldest pharmacy in the world, a walk around the city’s walls, and dinner looking out on the harbor. These were all amazing experiences, yet there was one that topped all the rest. Between the crepe stand and the beers by the sea, we went swimming. Dubrovnik doesn’t have any sandy beaches; instead, it has cliffs.
As the native, Maria knew of a bar built into the cliff face that served beer, while also offering steps that reach a safe place to swim. We had to walk down narrow, twisting stairs that had been carved into the cliff face. This brought us to a small, flat area on a giant rock where we could leave our towels and bags while we swam. However, getting into the ocean itself was a feat: the waves were pretty strong, and there were no stairs. In order to get into the ocean, you had to climb down the cliff, already slippery from the waves and seaweed, jump in (there was no casual wading), and pray you didn’t hit a rock hiding just under the surface. HOWEVER, my brother found an alternate route: halfway up the path that led down the cliff, there was an area with a railing where you could look out at the ocean. Grant discovered that if you climbed over this railing, there was a rock that was perfect for jumping, though it required some white-knuckled climbing. 


Grant jumped first while I snapped his picture, then I scrambled up behind him, so excited that I actually forgot that I’m terrified of heights. I get to the rock, heart beating just a bit quicker after my climb, and situate myself at the edge. Here is where it hit me: that’s a far jump. That’s like WICKED FAH. As much as I genuinely wanted to jump, I couldn’t get my legs to move… I shouted for a countdown and after shutting out Emily’s obnoxious 3-2-1-GO, I could hear Maria calmly counting down from five. Hesitating because I didn’t know if I should jump on 1, or “GO”, I finally threw myself off the cliff. Let me just tell you, falling for 35ish feet takes a LONG TIME, but it was such a liberating experience that I ended up doing it a second time.




Things I Have Learned Whilst in Croatia…


1.     If you don't have jellies for the slippery rocks in the ocean, you're going to have a bad time: My dad slipped while entering the ocean and cut his toe. Naturally, his injury grew into a discussion on how long tetanus shots last on average.

2.      There is such thing as a traveling watermelon salesman. He travels by boat. Why do we not have this in America?
3.     If you are a waitress, your absolute worst nightmare is taking the lunch/dinner order of my current entourage: 10 people with 2 different native languages (neither of which is the Croatian).
4.     Dubrovnik was under the sovereignty of Venice for a little while there…
5.     There are people in Dubrovnik who make a living by placing exotic birds on the shoulders of passersby.
6.     Croatia has really good wine
7.     Prunes are delicious when they’re not dehydrated or used in juices designed to aid in old person digestion.
8.     Banana boats, tubing, and jet skiing are all much more fun in the Adriatic. Don’t ask me why just accept it as fact.


Monday, August 13, 2012

Days 1 through 3


I have completely lost track of time. The calendar says it’s been three days but I’m a little cloudy on the details… Here’s what I remember:

Friday: A Traveler’s Worst Nightmare
Boy, were we on it on Friday. Sandwiches were packed, we were only eight minutes late getting on the road (a big step for us) and we were at the airport with plenty of time to spare. We only hit one minor glitch: every single “carry-on” had to be checked. Whatever, we walked it off.
Liv and I won the airport security race.
Plane was delayed due to "technical reasons" ten minutes before we were supposed to board. These technical issues apparently blossomed in the following three hours until it was finally determined that the plane was not fit for travel.
Frustration and emotional anguish ensued. Every single passenger was then put on a flight scheduled to depart 20 hours later. My mother found herself an arch nemesis. (I am desperately jealous as is to be expected).

Saturday: Plane, Sleep, Run, Plane…
We arrive at the airport and board plane number two without incident.
I take a melatonin pill, thinking it was Ambien… needless to say I was not only disappointed, but my sleepiness at 3pm was not positively affected in any way. However, this is not to say that my sleep wasn’t affected negatively!  I had the pleasure of being seated in front of two girls under the ages of 6 whose father not only dismissed their need to sleep (we would be landing at 4am local time), but he was encouraging their laughter and seat-kicking with his equally inhuman, piercing voice. The man all but had them on a constant IV of sugar, it was a painful 8 hours to say the least.

Saturday: Wait, how is it already Saturday??
We landed at approximately 4:15, an inhuman hour even if you haven’t been travelling for 16 hours. However, due to the aforementioned 20 hour delay, we lost our first day of vacation. This was intentional because it was intended to be a buffer: we do nothing all day, become acclimated to the time zone, etc. Instead, we had to book it to our flight to Dubrovnik. This included baggage claim, customs and a whole new round of baggage checking and airport security.
MINOR PROBLEM: the tiny plane couldn’t fit my giant suitcase, it was scheduled to board at 6:15am, and the baggage storage facility didn’t open until 6:30. Thank goodness for this series of events or else I would have lost valuable father/daughter bonding time brought on by SPRINTING airport hallways for 20 minutes getting to the airport’s hotel (for storage) and then back to our terminal. (Important side note: thankfully, we had anticipated this complication and I had packed everything I would need for Croatia in my smaller bag while my big bag was packed with what I would need in Parma).
Spark Notes Time: we caught out plane, landed safely in Dubrovnik, and drove to our rental house. As it was only 10am by the time we got there, we decided to spend the day in the neighboring town of Cavtat where we swam and ate lunch. More details and pictures to come :)

Wednesday, August 8, 2012

B.L.O.G.

Busted
Ludicrous
Online
Gournal
I needed something to call it, and due to my utter lack of creativity, I’m sticking with BLOG except now, it’s capitalized which makes it different and much less mainstream.
As you can see I’m really shying away from this being one of those super boring blogs that acquire a sort of cult following because it only appeals to .03% of the human population. I’m doing big things here… I strive to hit at least .05% so I’m going the mainstream-hipster route (it’s a blog: mainstream, but it’s actually an acronym: obnoxious, against-the-grain, hipster-type stuff). Also, journal is spelt with a “g”. COME AT ME SNIGDHA NANDIPATI.   
Since I'm in an explain myself kind of mood, I might as well make sure all of y'all caught on to my super clever title that I'm probably going to decide I hate in about a week. It's a clever play on that stupid Mother Goose poem, except I'm a young woman, and Italy is shaped like a boot not a shoe. See what I did there?  
That's pretty much it for this update. Good talk. Kbai. 

p.s. in case you missed it, I discovered how to post appropriate links inside my witty comments. Deal with it.

**edit: my title used to be "the young woman who lived in a boot" ... hence the mother goose reference, but as I clearly predicted above, I quickly became bored and annoyed with my sad attempt at wit, so I chose to show off my multi-lingual skillz by giving it an Italian title. I'm not going to translate it though... you're clearly on the internet. You can figure it out all by yourself... but don't trust those stupid translator sites because they're computers and they make it sound like I don't speak a word of Italian. I actually speak at least 32 words so... I've got that going for me...   

Tuesday, August 7, 2012

Your Super Chic, Jet Setting, Zero-Responsibilities Pen Pal.

Hello, and welcome to my… well… thing. “blog” sounds way too, what’s the word I’m looking for… super lame. This isn’t 2004. Basically, I’m going abroad to Italy for approximately 5 months, and, along with the rest of my generation, I feel the need to publish everything about my life. Rather than write about my adventures in a diary, like some sort of archaic Laura Ingles Wilder, I’ve decided that the world needs to be kept in the loop with all my adventures. So here we are… thank you internet.
Let’s back up a second… when I said world, I was speaking metaphorically. I’ve posted the link to this “blog” (note to self: come up with a better name for that) on Facebook, tweeted it, and sent it along to friends, family friends, and, of course, my entire extended family. Optimistically, I’m looking at maybe two people who will regularly (using the word loosely here) keep up with this thing: mom and dad (shout out to Nora and Tim, best parents ever. They’re better than yours.) I’m not trying to get pity here, just trying to be honest. If my friend/family member/etc sent me a link to their blog I’d be all “that’s rad! A blog?? Wow. I’ll totally read it every day because Europe sounds like it will be so interesting!” In reality, I’d forget about said link, and even if I clicked on it, as soon as I saw more than a couple sentences, I’d bail. But, if you are one of the brave souls who plans to keep up with me, or even intermittently tune in, there are some things you should know:
1.     I love grammar. It’s the best WHEN USED PROPERLY. I am a linguistics minor (google it, I won’t explain it again). That said, I am a flawed human… (gasp) I have been known to misspell things, write in run-on or fragmented sentences, misuse punctuation, and even use improper grammar. A lot of times this is for effect, but sometimes it’s just because I’m tired, lazy, or just plain dumb. Bear with me people.
2.     I typically get creative at odd hours. This will typically mean between the hours of 11pm and 3am which actually shouldn’t matter because you guys are probably all in America and I definitely heard something about a time difference… hopefully that means we won’t have an issue.
3.     I think I’m funny. The operative word here is “I”. I crack myself up. However, you might not feel the same way, and if you don’t, then there is something seriously wrong with you and you should be blocked from this blog thing pretty much right now. That said, I’ll admit that sometimes I’m off my game. On those rare occasions, I deeply apologize for wasting your time.
4.     I have been known to occasionally repeat myself.
5.     I am often redundant.
6.     I see this blog (temporary term) as a diary of sorts… I plan to chronicle my super cool European adventures here so when I’m old and depressed zonked out on medication rotting away in the nursing home my good-for-nothing kids dumped me in, I’ll have something to look back on. However, I do understand that there are others who are not 86-year-old me who will be tuning in. It is because of you guys that I will be trying to include content that will be educational, or at the very least, entertaining.
Itinerary:
August 10, 2012: Departure for Rome, Italy
August 11, 2012: Departure from Rome to Dubrovnik, Croatia.
August 19, 2012: Return to Rome, Italy
August 22, 2012: Family ditches me for America.
August 22-September 15, 2012: Tentative Italian activities
September 16, 2012: Arrival in Florence
September 17-December 20, 2012: I’ll let you know as soon as I figure it out.