Remember when weekends were international?

I'm impressed Blogspot didn't log me out after fourteen years of inactivity like this. So, first and foremost, thanks Blogspot! Keep rockin' it.

And now for the meat. And by meat I mean I-have-a-midterm-in-eight-hours-that-is-open-note/open-book-so-I've-tried-but-just-can't-convince-myself-studying-is-necessary-so-here-I-am-going-through-my-pictures-of-my-semester-in-rainy-but-hyperconnected-London-and-wishing-weekends-still-meant-international-travel-and-not-at-most-travel-downtown-and-even-that-is-excessive-for-a-Saturday-especially-since-even-my-much-anticipated-Sunday-morning-bagel-5-blocks-away-is-an-excursion.

And because midterms are not fun but France is, here are a few pictures:

What I'm really try to say is: Christmas is soon and Rosetta Stone doesn't teach Icelandic but they do teach French.

Life's Candy and the Sun's a Ball of Buttah

The weekend aaaggaaaaaaain?! I'll take it.

I'm in the middle of watching Funny Girl (for the first time ever!) and like most movies it will probably take me all weekend to get through it. Especially if I keep taking breaks to watch this (instant gratification has ruined my attention span). When I run through my apartment belting this, there is not a doubt in my mind that my neighbors (and the construction workers next door) love me.

WWJDD? (What Would Johnny Depp Do?)

I am beginning to slowly accept the fact that yes, it is August, and yes, that means September is that much closer and so yes, it will be fall soon. And so yes, blogs should start featuring fall trends and shoe stores should start pushing sandals to the clearance racks and bring the boots to the front line.

And so yes, eventually it will be time that I cannot wear my shorts without wearing tights underneath. And soon enough I will need to invest in some new pants and jeans to protect my barely-tanned legs from the impending chill. (The Gap is having a great sale right now, and my paycheck's not even a week old yet...)

Junya Wanatabe Spring 2011 Menswear; both pictures via style.com

BUT! Before I give in totally, there's still time. I know they say this trend is only for the mens, but let me tell you that I have been rolling my pants all summer. And as Esquire's style editor said, "it's noncommittal." I just realized I'll be able to roll down my favorite jeans into a pair of well, jeans, come the first cold snap - and I got a little thrill out of just the thought. It's like two pieces in one! (Without the cheesiness of reversible clothing).

When it comes to saying goodbye to summer, I'm looking for any and every positive to get me through what's sure to be a rough breakup come next month.

Happy Monday!

clockwise from left: Green Tea yogurt with raspberries, blueberries, and granola, by Peaches Yogurt (too good, and too close to my apartment for comfort); Labyrinths by Jorge Luis Borges; nails: Gone Fishing by Topshop

This weekend I:

- saw gorgeous clothes and incredible urban bamboo at the Met

- ate spinach fettuccine in meat sauce that was so good it put my I-never-order-spaghetti & meatballs-because-ordering-gnocchi-makes-me-sound-more-sophisticated pride in the grave

- caught up on sleep, even though that wasn't in the original plan

- hit up a thrift shop or two and left with a stack of books to be read

- reminisced on my European travels, both with random strangers at coffeeshops and you

- wondered how it is already August!

Wishing you a great week, and a great month!

xoxo

Rome, Day 3

Rest assured, my people! The rest of my European travels are not to be contained to my brain and my journals and the precarious hard drive of this not-so secretly detested computer. This is what you came here for in the beginning, and if you’re still nice enough to be here then so should the stories. Without further ado, let’s pick up where we left off.

Recall: I’ve been Spring Break-ing for a full week now, and am on my third and final day in Rome. I spent three days in Iceland (though if you’ve met me for more than 3 seconds since then, you know that probably far too well) and so far in Rome I’ve eaten lots of brioche and my blood has turned to cappuccino. I’ve been to St. Peter’s Basilica (and about fourteen million other churches around the city), in Villa Borghese for some nature-lovin’, and back into ancient Rome and all the good stuff that comes along with that.

SPRING BREAK 2010: Grand Tour

Day 7 (01 April): Rome, Day 3

Vatican Museums, Trevi Fountain, Santa Maria degli Angeli

Not wanting to waste any minute of my last day in Rome, I watched the sunrise over the walls of Vatican City. I figured I could sleep when I was dead, and the prospect of jostling thousands of others inside the Vatican Museums sounded a lot like death (and Purgatory) anyway. It paid off, especially since I took guidebook advice and decided to take the whole experience backwards – not unlike my Day 2 theory of getting the smaller sites (i.e,, Colosseum) out of the way first.

But I did sorrrrt of follow the rules (and the map they gave me) and started out in the nucleus of the complex of Vatican Museums, Cortile della Pinecone – I mean, Cortile della Pigna.

I stopped to show some of my never-ending love for mosaics, and also to check out the rippling muscles of the Belvedere Torso (hottie), which sculpture greats like Michelangelo used as a sketching model.

Enough of models he used though; I was ready for the big guns. Dun-da-dun!!!

Sike.

Don’t tell anyone I have these pictures, because they kept yelling at people for taking them (ruined the mood a little, if you ask me). Apparently there is no picture-taking or talking or even breathing in what I now deem the Shh-istine Chapel. But there is lots and lots and lots of beautiful artwork. Groundbreaking observation, I know. I strongly suggest doing as the guidebooks say and hustling over here first thing – I was thankful for the seat I managed to grab along the side of the room, when I needed time to breathe (silently, of course) and try to understand what I was surrounded by. Also, spending a lot of time with your neck bent backwards runs you the risk of toppling over if you’re not careful.

Not to mention that your legs just get plain tired as you stand there for way too long, discovering new bits in each of these magnificent works. Hours would not have been long enough to fully appreciate The Last Judgment; the muscles of the shoulders and knees of each character, and the way the light hit every one of them.

I sat there for long enough that I managed to get myself upset about the fact that Botticelli and Perugino and all the other artists who show here in this room don’t get the same stardom that Michelangelo does. But then I reminded myself that Michelangelo is here because they all are; the Sistine Chapel’s original ceiling wasn’t up to par with the artists it covered, so Pope Julius II commissioned a 33-year-old kid to fix the problem. Four years later, he did, and in doing so created the raw material for millions and millions of mass-produced posters for middle-school art teachers to hang in their classrooms.

Because I am not a salmon and this was not a stream you wanted to try to swim against anyway, I decided to not actually do the whole thing backwards but instead just do it twice and fast forward (or not) through the parts I had already seen.

New sightings included crusty old mummies, lots of body parts sculpted from marble, and tapestries (which, having seen it done right, I’ve developed a benevolent feeling towards – in fact, just ordered one for my room. Seeing the world has really changed my life, can’t you tell?). There were also more crazy ceilings…

…frescoes by Raphael…

…and, in case you thought religion wasn’t relevant, modern art.

They even tossed in some foreign references! Wait eight months and I’ll get you a retelling of my trip to the city where the original is housed.

After leaving the thick brick walls, I said goodbye to all my old haunts on a beautiful day. The lack of threatening rain clouds makes Castel Sant’Angelo even prettier.

This is one side of Bernini’s Four Rivers Fountain, in the middle of Piazza Navona, a whole section of my guidebook that I hadn’t even planned on exploring but proved a good place to put up my feet while I slurped up yet another gelato.

But you can’t really say goodbye to Rome without saying it at Trevi Fountain. I did it the cheap college-student way – that is, without actually tossing coins over my shoulder like you’re supposed to (one to return, two to return and fall in love). Sorry, but that’s a gelato I’m literally throwing away. And now that I know the approximately 3,000 euros tossed in daily subsidize a supermarket for needy Roman citizens, I feel like a jerk. A big, fat, American jerk.

So I went to a house of God to repent my sins. Not really, it was on the way back to my hostel, where I was headed to pick up my bag and my 7:30pm ticket to Naples.

Santa Maria degli Angeli used to be public baths, until that guy Michelangelo got his hands on it in 1561. Does he ever take breaks, seriously.

I guess he had these 50-foot granite sticks lying around, but he couldn’t use them until he raised the floors in the place by six feet. I thought ancients were shorter than us now, did they really need that much head-room to bathe?

Oh, and did I mention it was Good Friday? And I was in a church in Rome? Final verdict on “Rome during Easter – crazy or awesome” question: Awesome.

Related Links

Rome, Day 1

Rome, Day 2

Facebook Photo Album: Roma

Two cities down, three to go. And that’s just Spring Break! I plan to intersperse the remaining travel entries liberally, in amongst all the other pearls of wisdom you’ll find here – stay tuned!

"life is no brief candle"

"I am of the opinion that my life belongs to the whole community and as long as I live it is my privilege to do for it whatever I can.

I want to be thoroughly used up when I die. For the harder I work the more I live.

I rejoice in life for its own sake. Life is no brief candle to me, it is a sort of splendid torch which I've got to hold up for the moment and I want to make it burn as brightly as possible before handing it on to future generations."

- George Bernard Shaw

At the end of every yoga class, they read a quote and play Tibetan singing bowls (as the tinny reverberations fill the studio space, I like to act like my spaceship is about to take off) - this was the quote from a class earlier this week and it left me with a huge smile on my face.

I'm in that sweet spot of time where I'm still interested in doing some sort of physical activity today - so I better pounce on it before it disappates as it is wont to do. But before I head out for my run (read: walk), I wanted to leave you with something for your weekend. I'm running, pampering myself, visiting the Met for the first time in far too long, and that's just today's plans!

xoxo

If only I had a kitchen with counters.

I'd like to take this opportunity to let a skeleton out: I have an addiction. I have to do it a few times a week, and doing it that frequently has caused me to build up a tolerance. The worst part? I have no desire to quit, no 12-step programs I'm entering or diaries I'm setting up to monitor myself.

I'm addicted to walking. I'm addicted to walking distances no sane person walks voluntarily, especially not in the middle of what could go down as the hottest month in New York City in recorded history. Walking home from friends' apartments 40 blocks away has turned into me walking home from yoga on a regular basis. For anyone who's counting, that's 88 blocks, or just shy of 4.5 miles. But though I sometimes give myself blisters or even draw a little blood, you won't find me powerwalking; in fact, I have been known to pop into stores here and there whenever something catches my eye.

The other day, I found myself in Fish's Eddy, a kitchenware/restaurant supply store in Union Square. I simply perused (probably unconsciously avoiding beginning my trek) and left emptyhanded, but for the rest of the week I couldn't get this beauty out of my mind:

Entirely unnecessary, maybe, but let me tell you - glasses of chilled water have never poured so beautifully or deliciously as they did after tonight's crazy yoga class.

When I went back in to satisfy my week-long longing, I also carried this mug around the store the whole time, but left without it; I may have to go back for it (on sale, so really I'm practically making money) and also I probably need the bowl, for the big salads that are the only things I want to eat during this hottest-month-ever. (Or, if my roommate gets his hands on it, "cereal bowl". For reference, it's 56oz. We don't play around.)

Keep me away! Or, just visit yourself and pick me something up while you're at it. Don't even get me started on the coasters...

Too Long, But Here Now!

Boo, I was hoping to have this NOT be "something I just did while I was in London to remember all the stuff I did there" because while I certainly want to do that (not that you'd know it by my failure to post the second half of Spring Break, or my trip to Paris, or anything else I ever did) I also like to think I do interesting things here in humble little New York City as well. So - if I haven't lost you all by now - better late than never!

Since I've been back stateside, I've been keeping myself busy as a new renter, a busy little intern bee back at Cooper Union, and as a surprisingly (to myself) devoted yogi. I've abandoned Bikram and its steamy studios (and hefty price tags) for NYC's Yoga to the People. I've made their power vinyasa classes on St. Marks Place my second home, but they also offer two other studios with hot power vinyasa and even Bikram... but we'll see if I ever make it there. I've actually started to embrace my time spent in downward dog, which is huge. Best of all, the St. Marks classes are donation-based (in college-speak: "free", except when the teacher is cute and then I toss a few bucks in).

I'm loving my routine, even though (/because) it's keeping me super busy; my next goal is to carve out some time to spend here (and at the blog linked above as well). I was inspired to come back when I saw this commercial; it's so good (my favorite song, and not just because it's from Iceland) and I wanted to share it with y'all!

*My computer isn't doing so hot these days, and I can't tell if it's making the video skip near the beginning or if it's actually like that, but either way I think it's perfect.

Talk to you all soon! xoxo

Home Sweet Home

I'd like to take a moment to apologize for the expletives, virtual and otherwise, uttered a few days ago. In the span of time between my last post and this very moment, I have added yet another city to my list of travels, but most importantly have been duly humbled. "Humbled" might be too passive a term - try "getting put very much in my place". Whether it's tripping me on my way up the stairs in the London Underground, to bring me off my high, I-am-way-too-cool-for-you horse and the strut that accompanies it, or sending me on a wild goose chase across the Atlantic (and beyond) in order to just beat another ash cloud, the Universe has a way of showing me who's boss.

After receiving the email below, I quickly hopped onto the phone to American and was not-so-quickly assisted (four minute estimated wait time, yeah right). I was literally one click away from a ticket for an 8:30 flight for the next day (that is, 16 May the first day of another set of UK airport closures due to volcanic ash) before an impulse decision led to me furious last-minute packing in order to catch a 1pm flight to O'Hare. Yes, it was Chicago, but it was not England; we were on the right track and details could come later. I bolted downstairs like a hot mess, expressed enough frantic psychosis that they waived my lost key fee and even called me a cab to Heathrow - who I am pretty sure charged me significantly less than what that fare should be - and made it through security with time to spare. Long story short, I found myself landed in New York City by 9:30pm EST on May 15th. At LaGuardia (I don't think American realizes that just because they are in the same city, JFK and LGA are actually not identical, interchangeable destinations - see my January 12th fiasco to LHR), but this was the first time I've feasted my eyes upon the skyline view that comes from a LaGuardia landing. It was so much more beautiful than I could ever have imagined it could be, so SO much more beautiful than I remembered. I am home.

Not Funny

Pardon my French, but ABSO-F@#$ING-LUTELY NOT.

An Open Letter to LDN, and Two

12 May 2010, behind St. Paul's Cathedral, London, England

London, I am sorry for doubting you. I am sorry for not giving you the chance you deserved. It's been a great four months, and I should have treated you better during that time. You didn't have to introduce me to delicious things like Innocent smoothies, flapjacks, and Ploughman's sandwiches (especially Pret's take on the delicious lunchable). You didn't have to put a pretty park right next to the buildings I studied in. You didn't have to make it so easy for me to reach European countries to and fro, but that one especially, you delivered well on. I'm sorry for thinking that one of the best parts of London is how easy it is to leave London. I'm not saying I don't still believe that, but it's kind of a jerk thing to say so I guess I'm mostly just sorry for being a jerk. In my defense though, you've not been totally accomodating. I won't dwell, since that would be counterproductive, but you could have done a little better on the weather front. I mean, coldest winter in 20 years, that was a bit much. And the fact that it is still winter today, May 13; also a problem. I've become entirely too close of friends with my umbrella, but in your defense my umbrellas have somehow managed to last much longer than they do in New York. So, great work on that, I guess.

Long story short, though you don't hold a candle to the city I'm about to return home to in two short days, you don't suck. I'm sorry for saying you did. Thanks again for having me, it's been great fun and hopefully I'll see you around again soon. I'm so glad I met you this semester; it's been so fun getting to know you. Let's hang out this summer; HAGS, KIT and LYLAS! (Not really, on any part of that last bit. Maybe HAGS.)

Rome, Day 2

SPRING BREAK 2010: Grand Tour

Day 6 (31 March): Rome, Day 2

Ancient Rome: Colosseum, Palatine Hill, Roman Forum; Pantheon; Column of Marcus Aurelius

The second day in Rome, I stepped back in time and visited the ancient city. I got the party started at the Colosseum; you know, start out small with the minor sites so that it’s not all downhill from the start. Call me an expert tourist; I’ll be modest and deny such a compliment but secretly, I’m well aware that I am a step ahead of the game. (In the left of this picture, photobombin’ the big guy’s shot, is the Arch of Constantine).

(emphasis my own)

I read lots about all the cool stuff I saw in the outer part of the Colosseum, and oh haiii we are back to the classical orders we were first introduced to at Greenwich. Except, not the Inigo-Jones-I’m-English-and-obsessed-with-Andrea-Palladio versions; no, these are the originals. Because this is Rome and things are very old here and the Roman Empire was a big deal and so people wanted to copy it left and right so they would be big deals also. It’s a big deal.

Walking around, I didn’t just read but I also looked. But I didn’t look a lot because, well, there wasn’t a lot to look at. I am disappointed in the Romans’ ability to hold themselves together (literally), but I guess thousands and thousands of years is a long time to keep track of your head or your whole body from the ankles up. Heck, I’ve only had to worry about my bod for 19 years, and I can’t honestly tell you I’ve been aware of my head’s whereabouts for all of that time.

Heads! Found ‘em. Now if we could only get a hold of some of those pesky torsos…

Eyeballs, too, are often very helpful. But we are getting there. Rome wasn’t built in a day.

I left the old guys to get themselves sorted out while I explored one of the Big Seven.

If I’m going to be real with y’all (which I strive always to be), I will tell you that I think “getting” this one will require another viewing of Gladiator. (Believe it or not, I am not being facetious here; but if you have other Colosseum movies to suggest, hit me up). I mean, I understand that this is old, and it’s cool, and some really incredible things happened here (filling it with water to stage naval battles? Ridiculous), but to this day I’m still coming to terms with the millions and millions of people who watched epic performances from the same steps I sat on, or patronized the market that it once held or, when things got real bad, called the Colosseum home. That’s big. Too big for my tiny self.

I hopped across the street and flashed my super-deluxe ticket that also got me into Palatine Hill, legendary home of Rome’s founders, Remus and Romulus. Remember how in Iceland, Geysir = “geyser”? Weeeeeeell, Palatine = “palace”. So basically, toss out that Rosetta Stone: English DVD you just bought off the TV at 4am, and just retrace my steps across the world; you will learn at least two words and I don’t know about you but these are two I use on a very regular basis.

The Stadium – it was either a racetrack or maybe just a biiiig garden, but “they” know for sure that it was part of Domitian’s home in the first century.

Traipsin’ around

Don’t quote me on it but I do believe Romulus’ hut is somewhere in that mess of flora and scaffolding. Nawbig.

Palatine Hill overlooks the Roman Forum, which began as a cemetery then took it up a notch and became a marketplace before later becoming a Roman shanty town in the 8^th century BC. I feel like if this was not a tourist attraction and you did not have to pay €9 to get to it, hipsters would take this over as their own, exploiting its illustrious history as further ammo in their arsenal of trendy irony.

Temple of Antonius and Faustina. Not tiny.

Temple of Castor and Pollux

Daily dose of modern art analysis: the one left standing rises victorious, above the somewhat-discombobulated ruins. The height differential enables this sucka (technical term) to align himself with the powerful, resilient Antonius/Faustina.

Temple of Saturn

Trajan’s Markets and the Imperial Fora, which I think was a little bit under construction/a little bit on the pricey side; and to be honest, I was quickly approaching my old-stuff quota so maybe it was better that way.

I did manage to pass Trajan’s Column, which is this tall glass of water. (Except that it is actually made of stone, not water or glass). They were filming what I gathered to be Italian CSI right under it, so let’s make sweeping assumptions and venture to guess that I sighted a celeb. Does it still count if you don’t know who the heck they are?

Monumento Nazionale a Vittorio Emanuele II, in honor of the first king of unified Italy. For some reason, I was out-of-control excited to finally come upon this - I had seen it during my numerous aerial views the day before and it felt a little like reaching Mecca once I made it up the steps... Why? Have I seen this in some movie or something and been like "Awesome... Italy."? Anyone? Can anyone figure me out, since I clearly cannot?

Even Italian litter is cooler.

Next stop: Pantheon! (But not before two rapid-fire gelato sessions; I got one because why wouldn’t I - it had to have been at least 45 minutes since I had eaten last, God forbid – and then while poppin’ a squat to get my bearings before entering the Pantheon (and to finish my gelato, because that’s trashy to eat gelato in the Pantheon), I discovered a tidbit in my guidebook that one of the best gelaterias in Rome was right around the corner. Hey, you only live once, so I ate gelato twice.)

Props Marcus Agrippa for the cool dome (Michelangelo even copied you, how’s that for celebrity endorsement) but you sort of forgot something…

Or maybe you knew all along that leaving the big gaping hole up top would actually be really awesome. Well, you were right.

Sunrays, we are still BFF 24 hours later. Keep up the good work.

And on to the next one: Santa Maria sopra Minerva

Here is the point in the trip where Michelangelos just become the norm. Like, “toss one here, there, wherever they fit really; we just have so many of them in this country it’s honestly just a chore”. Risen Christ, but Mike was my kind of guy and the gold panties weren’t his idea (not that I am not into gold panties but sometimes nude is just better, ya know what I mean?)

Column of Marcus Aurelius, where I sat for a while and took it all in and watched adorable Italian children chase birds and watched gorgeous Italian men and women meet up to share their wonderful lives with one another. I love the way Italians congregate: it begins with the iconic double-kiss, and then they sit casually and exchange what I can only presume are profound, enchanting thoughts – the language just seems too beautiful for idle chit-chat to be the same idle chit-chat that we have in English.

On my way back to my hostel, I passed by Termini, Rome’s slightly-sketchier version of Grand Central; a guy was carving beautiful flowers and birds out of carrots, beets, and potatoes! So cool.

Italy, in a nutshell: Tuscan buildings, Christianity, and motorbikes. Day 2 recap – miles walked: >6; gelato eaten: 2; unknown celebrity sightings: 1; tavola calda pizza stops: 2*; appreciation: priceless

*I swear, I could give Elizabeth Gilbert a run for her money; 1 year, in Eat Pray Love, and you left with only an additional 20 pounds? Girlfriend, I can do that in a weekend.

Related Links

Rome, Day 1

Rome, Day 3

Facebook Photo Album: Roma