Meet Jean Claude, your favorite crab EVER

I sold him to Elise a year ago last fall, but apparently a quiet life in Altadena was not to his taste, and so he found his way into Ani's luggage and tracked me down here in Italy! (here I was, thinking I was free of him.... but shhh, don't tell him anything!) And being the loving friend/CREATOR/avid ty beanie baby collector that I am, I obliged his yearning to see the world, and have since permitted him to accompany me on my EIKAVTOPTI (Exceedingly Important Kick-Ass Voyages To Obscure Places Throughout Italy). I shall be documenting these travels in the form of photos on my (blatant ad placement coming up; avert your eyes!!) Super Duper Flickr site.

So love Jean Claude with all your heart! Because he's just that cool.

Emily on the rocks

More ocean. It was everywhere!

My first ocean of the year

Just to give a visual of Cinque Terre, and its stunning views.

The countdown begins

One month from today, I fly from New York to LAX, a Saturday afternoon. And then I drive to my house in Altadena, and I see my dog and my kitty and the chickens; I hope they'll recognize me! Well, I'm not optimistic about the chickens, obviously, but Taffy and kitty I hope, I hope, I hope they'll know me! And I get to see the progress the Durans next door, who own a flower shop that's really a drug front, have made on their mountainside pool right in the middle of our vista. And then I'll walk into my room which I remember more clearly right now than I have been able to all year - in fact suddenly I can map out most of Pasadena and Altadena, and every single bit of my yard and house is crystal clear in my mind. Is that something that happens with time? I would think the opposite would happen. Che ne so. And I'll give my bookshelves a hug and put my suitcases on the floor to be unpacked over the course of the next three months, and then I will crash and sleep for 18 hours. Ah, sweet jetlag.

What am I going to do with myself?!? I'll be a mess at the airport, saying goodbye to everyone from SYA and just sobbing. I didn't cry much when I came to Italy, and I think that's because I didn't realize how long I'd be away and how much would change in my absence; also I was so eager to get away that I didn't stop to really say goodbye to everyone and everything. But now I have a better sense of what it's like to leave. Only this time I'm leaving for good. I won't ever live in Viterbo again. I might visit, I might even stay for a week or so, with my host mother or a friend; but I'll never live here again. Isn't that staggering? Every time I realize that Viterbo really is my home now I have to stop for a moment just to let it sink in again. I live here! As Emily would say, DOOD. But seriously, DUDE!

Gosh, I spent all evening getting some things in my room cleared up and starting to put stuff into boxes and my suitcase. Four more weeks, so I guess it's a little premature. But at the same time I have this unjustified fear that if I wait too long I won't have time to pack anything, or won't be able to think clearly enough, or something. Last minute mania. I'll probably repack 8 or 10 times anyway. And in three weeks I'll be freaking out something awful. Aw, jeez. Changes. Ch-ch-ch-changes... Just gonna have to be a different one. Time may change me, but I can't trace time.

Cinque Terre

Pronounced with a rolled 'r' which I still cannot do, dammit, after trying incessantly all weekend to the point that my friends would sigh and say "Holly, if you roll that r one more time I'll have to pull your tongue out." However it's completely and utterly the fault of my host mom, because when I told her that I was going to Cinque Terre she said "where's that?" I started to describe it, and at once she said "Oh yes of course, Cinque Terrrrrrrrrre," and I began to twitch in rage. How many places sound like Cinque Terre? Why must I roll the damn 'r'???? Obviously she was just tormenting me. So now I have a new goal. Be able to roll those accursed 'r's by the end of the year, better than Armida can. Better than any and all Italians can! I shall roll those 'r's till the cows come home, baby.

But Cinque Terre was beautiful, even without the rolled 'r'. Riomaggiore, Montarola, Corniglia, Vernazza, and Monterossa make up the five coastal cities, connected by virtually vertical mountain paths and hundreds of rocky steps winding through crags and olive groves and grave vines.... Not to mention stunning ocean views around every turn. And the cities are gorgeous, too. I remember distinctly coming up to Vernazza, after a grueling hike from Monterossa (we hiked from the city we were staying in, Riomaggiore, to Corniglia the first day and took a train back, then on the second day took a train to Monterossa and hiked back to Corniglia, and took another train back, because we're lazy butts), with some 350 steps up and down a wending climb; and when finally we topped the last peak and were looking down at Vernazza, we could hear music floating up from the bay. It was the ultimate charming touristy stereotypical amazing little seaside village - old Italian buildings surrounding a piazza, which folds around a harbor with a beach covered in sunbathers; the harbor is filled with sailboats, on which people are lounging in the sun, and in the piazza the restaurant tables, shaded with colorful umbrellas, are filled with families in super good moods.... basically it was just awesome, and Vernazza probably has deep seated problems, but on the surface it sure is great.

Besides giving my legs the best workout they've gotten all year (which is LAME, because those hikes, while difficult, were certainly doable, and had I been remotely in shape I'd have been able to do it with far more ease than I did.... picture me dragging myself from step to step and rasping for water and reapplying sunblock every 10 minutes and cursing each blasted hill), WE WENT SWIMMING!!! It was freaking cold as hell, but by god I got in that water and I swam around and it felt so great. First time all year in the ocean, and I sure missed it. We weren't on the beach because CInque Terre is too cliff-invested to have beaches; instead it was a shore of giant boulders that had fallen off of the cliff above. Picture it, we're swimming in a sort of cove, with sheer cliff on both sides; on the top of one cliff (the left, as you face the rocky shore) are visible a few houses that are the top fringe of the city on the other side of the rock face, on the top of the other cliff is a train track, and every so often a train stops so you can wave up at the people on the train till they notice you and wave back. And behind you is open ocean, miles and miles and miles of it. I love oceans.

We stayed in a hostel/apartment - we had a whole building basically to ourselves. Our room was up three flights of stairs so steep that I kept hitting my shins on the next step up, and two stories above that was our kitchen, where we made meals every day - Indian food, Italian, and American. We even had pancakes. Boy, did I miss those. The kitchen window overlooked another balcony where an old man would come out to read his paper in the mornings (there was also a yowling cat at night, which sounded like a dying child half the time), and our bedroom window looked straight out onto the ocean. We were literally on the waterfront. I wouldn't have minded staying there till the end of the year; it was the best weekend I've had so far this year. We actually considered staying an extra day and missing school, because the only repercussion would be that independent travel privileges would be taken away, and it's so close to the end of the year that it doesn't matter. However three of us (we were six total) were juniors, and we'd be screwed next year on the common app if we did that - a new question that's being added is "have you ever been on Probation? explain." Bummer!

On the train home we had a connection at Attigliano-Bomarzo, officially my favorite train station ever. I checked the pole where I wrote Ani+Holly with her Sudoku crayon, and it's totally still there. And I had some hot chocolate, for the second time there this year. That's where I had hot chocolate for the first time this year, and so I figured I'd have it at the end of the year, too. And it did not disappoint, it was every bit as finger-licking delicious as it was back in October. Basically we just goofed around for the hour and a half that we were there - took loads of photos with Jean Claude, who you will meet on my Flickr account once I've uploaded photos, took a ton of photos of each other, flirted with the cute Italian shorts-guy (well, it wasn't really flirting, it was more smiling and a lot of unnecessary glances and a passing "ciao" on his part... a ciao and run!), and ate..... a chocolate cake!!! YUM. With apricot jam inside. SO GOOD... I love chocolate, and I love cakes, and I love being with those guys, because they are such awesome people, and so that hour stop at Attigliano was probably one of the best I've ever had.

On the way home I stuck my head out the window all the way, till my hair was so knotted I can't even run my fingers through the top layer. But the air was refreshing and smelled so Italian, and it was beautiful and warm and a spring night in Lazio.... And we all hugged and sniffled because this is our last trip together this year, and there are only 4 weeks left, two of which are AP weeks, one of which will just be movies in class and no homework, and the final of which will be last minute frantic packing. I don't know if I'm ready to become home, because I realized that it's so nonpermanent; that is, everything is. I remember home as this really solid place and Italy as a really temporary thing.... but I've been here for 8 months. That's not so fleeting. I've got great friends, a school here. And a family! How many people do you live with in your life? Parents, roommate, spouse.... not that many. But I just lived with someone else, another family, for an entire year. Not just shared a house, but really lived with them. How about that?

So, yeah. An excellent note on which to end my travels of the year. Guys, I love you! And Jean Claude sends his love to Elise <3. Start counting down the days! 30, as of this Tuesday, guys. 30 days left.

Auguri, Italia!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY ITALY!!! Ti amo, non ti voglio lasciare! Non pensavo che sarei così triste alla fine dell'anno.... Solo 4 settimane rimaste, che schiffo!

There was totally the cutest guy at the Attigliano train station today. He was adorable, with the whole shaggy hair look going on - and he was wearing shorts, which means he wasn't totally Italian, right? I mean, real Italians, aka lascivious ones who smoke and swagger and wear bling, never wear shorts. Therefore shorts in Italy = nice guy. How could logic like that go wrong? Anyway, he lives in Viterbo and sometimes he's in the lunch line at the Mensa....

Anyway, it's Italy's independence day today, April 25th. Peregrine called out to me as I was eating my gelato (pure chocolate and brownie paste, MMMM), "Happy 4th of July!" For a split second I just felt my stomach drop; I honestly thought it was July 4th and I'd forgotten. And then reason jumped into my thought process and reminded me that, oh wait, it's April, and I'm not even going to be here when July rolls around. And you know what? I never even celebrate the 4th that much, but the simple thought of being out of the country for it was absolutely terrifying. It was tough enough having Thanksgiving here; suddenly American holidays hold so much more weight for me than they ever did. I can't wait to go down to the bridge and watch those Rose Bowl fireworks. I can't say I love everything about America (cough*THE GOVERNMENT*cough), but July 4th represents the things to me that make it such a freaking awesome country. Like free speech, and cheerios, and being able to wear shorts outside without getting harassed, and Trader Joe's, and the palm trees on Mendocino, and how diverse everything and everyone is, and how many different cities there are that make it awesome to travel within the country, and the Grand Canyon, and the Science Fiction museum in Seattle in the music building, and clam chowder in bread bowls, and by god I miss it all!

Hey guys. One month from today, I fly to New York from Italy. Thursday, May 25th. Man!

Free!

Sounds truly crazy, and sure the vision's hazy, but I swear some day there'll be.... a celebration throughout Oz that's all to do with me! And I'll stand there with the wizard, feeling things I"ve never felt; and though I'd never show it, I'd be so happy I could - melt! And so it will be for the rest of my life, and I'll want nothing else till I die, held in such high esteem, when people see me they will scream, we're half of Oz's favorite team, the wizard.... and I!

School's done, I've got two glorious weeks till I need think about work again. And I've started a new book, Watership Down, baby! The plan? Sit in my bed, read it and eat chunks of coconut from the Ipercoop. Heaven.

Unlimited, my future is unlimited, and I've just had a vision almost like a prophesy.... (loop back to the beginning of the post).

Rooves...?

They're pregnant.... but they have penes! (plural as provided by Marisa, thank you!). They're Hermaphromuffins!

So here's a problem that's been bothering me a great deal lately: is 'rooves' still a word? Because last I remember, it was! And then just recently Word told me it was misspelled, and now I can't remember if I ever knew that before. I must have. Right? I mean, English is my first language, and roof isn't exactly an uncommon word. But 'roofs' just doesn't seem right! Is that just a recent decision on the part of the people at Microsoft, or at the grand English word spelling/dictionary place? (Oxford, I suppose) Because I probably updated Word at some point this year, and that may have been when they changed it.... I just know they did! Slimy bastards.

Yesterday I went to Villa Lante in Bagnaia with three friends instead of going hiking. We lay on the grass and got freckled and sunburnt and walked through the grounds of the garden. Upon arriving at one of many of the fountains (this one a large, murky pool with a four-headed fountain at the center), two of our number went off into a meadow to make out, leaving me and Pat to entertain ourselves at the pool. The cement wall around it came up to about our waists, and we couldn't see the bottom for the murky quality of the water, so we were curious as to how deep it was - we really wanted to wade out to the fountain. So Pat, sitting on the edge, lowered himself in up to his shorts. No bottom. I lowered myself in up to my butt (I was wearing capris past my knees.... they got a tad damp). No bottom. So we ran into the nearby meadow, got two monster branches, and returned to the fountain, confident that these branches, each easily 6 feet, would reach the bottom. Nope. Even with our arms in up to our shoulders and the branches extended straight down so that we were reaching 7 or 8 feet deep, there was no bottom. Defeated, we sat on the side, dangling our feet in and watching some pretty creepy fish leaping one after the other, dozens of them, all in the same spot out to the left of the fountain. Personally, I think that the Loch Ness Monster's younger cousin is in there at the bottom. Anyway, after a while a man came by with his girlfriend, and apparently wishing to impress her he was telling her everything he knew about the pool. We listened disinterestedly until we heard two chilling words that changed everything. "venti metri," he told her as she feigned interest at his textbook knowledge. "20 deep dark meters."

So.

The water was marvelously refreshing, though. And my pants dried out after an hour or two.

And sunlight, it cures everything. Sole, ti amo! Already these past few days of sunshine and warm breezes and summer-like drowsiness have been enough to erase even the cruelest winter.

As for the date, well, he was quite the Italian. I could say anything I like here, as he'll probably never take the initiative to stumble across my blog, nor would he be able to understand it. Ah, the power! But I shan't divulge much. It was terribly romantic. However, as does every single other Italian from the age of 14 and up, he smokes. And so ends potential for romance, unless I won him over so completely that he realizes he'd give up even smoking to return with me to Pasadena and live a happy healthy life for which he'll always have me to thank.

You know, if you're reading this and you smoke, for the sake of the people around you just smetterla! It's gross, it smells bad, and it's killing you! And (I'm now referring to some of my classmates, as opposed to my date - he was a perfect gentleman, relatively speaking, by smoking downwind of me and by not once pressuring me to join him) when you offer someone a cigarette, just think about what an awkward situation you're putting him or her in! Inconsiderate, of others and of yourself. So don't!

That being my pep talk of the day, I shall now retire to bed, and dream about marshmallows and hot dogs and peanut butter, and popsicles, which I didn't even remember existed until today when I was lying on the grass of Valle Faul prendendo il sole, and suddenly had a need for Trader Joe's delicious fruit ones.

Tomorrow lurks... Latin test, Math test, English in-class writing assignment. And at the end of the day, La Vita è Bella con il brillante Roberto Benigni, che io amo tanto tanto. And at last.... spring break. I've earned it.

'In bocca al lupo,' si dice. Poi, 'crepi il lupo!'

Hectic week

Well, anyone who's been receiving my e-mails about this week knows that it's had some ups and downs. The major down is that two boys got suspended from the program and sent home for drinking. It was a difficult decision; the director needed to be severe in his punishment, since this is the first time anyone has been caught, yet it's also so frustrating because so many other students drink or do drugs that it's unfair that these are the boys who ended up getting caught. I could name names, and a lot of my classmates could name names, but no one wants to get anyone else in trouble after this. It was pretty rough.

And hey, did you guess it? I got sick again! That makes four times not since I've been here, guys, but since January. Four times in three months. I don't even know what the hell this one was - I think it was a bug that got a lot worse when placed in the stressful context of this week. It only lasted Wednesday through Friday, but it basically meant that I couldn't hold down anything I ate, so when suddenly Friday afternoon I had an appetite again, I was ravenous. I'm still starving, and I've been stuffing myself with food for the last 18 hours (minus the 8 I was asleep, of course, but I actually had a dream about food, which I think counts for something). I'm sort of glad I got sick, because it has made me appreciate food all over again. And in the land of food, that's always a blessing.

Of course, those are the lower points of the week. The higher?....... I have a date! I haven't even tried to be humble about this. I've been in Italy 7 months (as of yesterday!!), and I think it's about time I have myself an Italian. So there.