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Look, it’s the Golden Gate!

….oh wait. JK.

So before we were all positive that we saw the Golden Gate Bridge, we joined together as our group of 13 and hiked down Market Street, the main hub street of San Fran, to the Ferry Building and the Ferry Building Marketplace, which lies at the foot of the bay. This is probably one of my favorite parts about San Fran– you have this bustling city, joined together with only a few blocks in between to a laid-back and salty water.

In the Ferry Building Marketplace, there are tons of little shops filled with wines, gourmet cheeses, ice cream, and obviously… seafood. Most of these humble seafood stands have lines running out the door, with people already crowding the bar and loading up on happy hour oysters and Anchor Steam beers. Most of them still have their suits out, fresh out of their 9-5 jobs, never bothering to waste their time staying late than so many of us force ourselves to over in the tri-state area. When you walk through the Marketplace and stand out on the boardwalk next to the water, the salty winds kind of getcha for a moment before you spot the Bay Bridge hidden behind the countless ferries and people that are loading up for Oakland across the water.

The Bay Bridge

The Bay Bridge looks kind of similar to the Golden Gate Bridge from afar (well, as far as I can tell as of now) and lights up at night with lights made to look like waves, lighthouses, and gulls flying across. From our sketchy Asian seafood joint on the water, this was a welcome surprise as I enjoyed my red snapper dinner.

Red Snapper

Nobody was lying to you when they said that the weather in this city literally changes at the drop of a hat. During the day, as you walk around, you’re wishing you brought flip-flops but as soon as you walk a few feet closer to the water you’re wondering why you didn’t bring your North Face jacket.

I don’t know what it is about this city that makes it so uniquely American; whether it’s the salty sea air, the happy little ferries, or the fact that it’s the birthplace of many important American moments. It’s also distinctly different from the warped land we live in back near New York City— here, it’s like time has stopped, where people still enjoy their boardwalks and their families and having a nice run down the water, where the only thing anyone is every in a rush to do to get some of that fresh seafood that floods the place. Whatever it is, it easily gives you a new appreciation for the country you live in. The East Coast doesn’t have a damn thing on this place.

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The Guy Next to Me Smells Kind of Funny.

I could sit here all day long and tell you why I think it’s cool to get involved in school activities. I could tell you about how there are lots of unexpected perks, like meeting hot boys or networking with distinguished administrators or going to shows or getting free food. But I’m going to go out on a limb here and assume that the very best way to convey how friggin sick school activities are is to tell you that right now, I am on an airplane to San Francisco, California with 12 of my best friends and the only money I’ll be fronting all weekend will be the dollar postcard I send to my mom.

Here’s the deal- the University newspaper that I work for, The Outlook, makes money through advertising within the paper, so as long as our advisor approves it, we all get to go to the Associated Collegiate Press (ACP) conference each year. Lucky for us, they always pick pretty sweet cities to go to; we have gone to Phoenix, Arizona; Los Angeles, California; Seattle, Washington; and today, we are going to San Fran. Hell. Yes.

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Family travel goes kind of like this: Mom and Dad buy the kids tickets. Mom bothers you to pack enough underwear and she makes you soggy sandwiches because airport food is pricey and then you have to share the room with these three other people whom you don’t really like very much and you usually end up having to pose for a lot of unflattering pictures, one of which will, undoubtedly, end up on your Christmas card.

However, student travel goes a little more along these lines: I sit in Business Law class till 12:45, wondering why the hell I haven’t packed yet when I have to be back at school to roll out at 3:30. I excitedly tell the girl next to me who I don’t really know very well that in a few hours, I’ll be in the City by the Bay. When I get home, I throw my stuff in a bag and I don’t have to listen to my mom telling me I really don’t need that many clothes (um, shut up mom) and then I run rampant with these 12 other nutjobs until we finally get on the plane, where my friend Nick comes up to my row and says, “Dude, the guy next to me… he smells sort of funny.”

One of the coolest parts of student travel is this—you’re not with a bunch of washed-out adults who jadedly see every super-cool city as been-there, done-that. Instead, you’re with a bunch of other kids, just like you, who seriously cannot believe they got so lucky to be here right now and with as excited as you all are, you could be going to damn Narnia. This is the joy of being young- to see everything as an adventure, because everything is.

I’ll only be here for four-and-a-half days, including travel time. But when you’re a kid with a backpack, equipped with plenty of underwear and lots of other people who are just as interested in finding the dollar oysters, taking a picture in front of the old Victorian in Full House, riding a cable car, and getting scared silly at Alcatraz (or is it Azkaban?) these 108 hours seem like the perfect amount of time to stay away for.

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Time is of the Essence

Throughout my life, I have been giving my time up like charity. You need me to come in and work an extra shift? Not a problem. You need someone to put the project together for class? I’m in. You need help with your article? I’m on it.

Doing this gave me some great opportunities. I met a lot of cool people, had a lot of great experiences, did a lot of neat stuff. But the thing is… I never enjoyed it. I never took it in, appreciated it, breathed it. I never had the time to.

In Italy, you don’t do this. If you’re going to dinner, you’re not going to be on your iPhone doing work when you’re supposed to be chatting- and not catching up, either, because you don’t need to catch up if you had the time to be already caught up in the first place. Everything you do, you do it because you enjoy it, because time is of the essence, but in a slightly different way.

In America, we do use our time wisely, always; if we at stopped at a traffic light, we’re emailing. If we’re waiting in a restaurant, we’re making a phone call. If we’re at our shitty part-time jobs, we’re doing homework.

In Italy, the Italians also use their time wisely; in the fact that if they’re going to do something, they’re going to do it. If someone is cooking your meal, it’s not going to half-assed and rushed, it’s going to be beautiful and perfect. If someone is going to talk with you, they’re gonna talk with you, not shove you out of the room because they have another meeting like right now. 

Now it may just be senioritis, but this year, I use my time… for myself. Instead of blindly giving it away, I think about what else I could be doing that will make me happy. I don’t want to rush anymore. I don’t want to look at my days and think Yeah, I made it through. I want to look back on my days and say it was a great day not just because it was productive, but because it was fun. 

In America, we are looked at as the worker-bee nation, which has made us into a superpower… but has also made us super worked. For the first time, I’m wondering how great of a thing this actually is.

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Don’t Forget Me!

So now that, even though I hate to admit it, I’m pretty settled back home in New Jersey, I guess I should start blogging about something other than how much I wish I was in Italy…

I’ve seen a lot of pretty extensive packing lists that are supposed to “help” us on our journeys across the pond, but in reality, I’m not going to forget to bring socks and who’s who to tell me how many pairs of underwear I need to bring?! Which is why I am putting together this short packing list that will hopefully help you out no matter who you are or where you’re going. DON’T FORGET THESE THINGS!

1. Guidebook and map. Can you buy a guidebook and a map in basically any place that you are going? Yes, yes you can. Will it be a quality guidebook? Yes, it probably will. Will it be cheap? No, no it will not. Which is why I’m telling you now that you should probably order your guidebook online (I like Amazon.com) because you’ll get it for like five bucks versus like twenty and you’ll get your pick of the litter. You can read some reviews, sample the pages, the works. Personally, Frommer’s are usually a solid pick. Also, if 2013 is $20 cheapest and 2012 is $5, just friggin get 2012. How much do you really think Florence-or anywhere else-has really changed in the past year.

2. Ear plugs and eye mask. When traveling, sometimes you don’t know where you’ll be staying, what it will be like, (or who you will be sleeping with). It’s always wise to pack an eye mask for those window-facing beds and ear plugs for those baby-ridden planes. And you also never know who of your supposed “best friends” snores. Seriously you’ll be glad you did.

3. Travel pillow. And I don’t mean one of those stupid neck pillows- what if you have an extra seat and you wanna lay on your side? What if you’re in a hostel and the bed feels like your best friend’s futon? Save yourself (another) $20 and steal the surprisingly soft plane pillow.

4. Refillable water bottle. I absolutely LOVE my Water Bobble, a plastic water bottle with a built-in filter you change every two months (the 34.5 ounce is a good choice). These bottles will save you money and possibly your life on one of the many unbearably hot summer travel days. With these, you can fill up your water from any sink and feel safe knowing you’re not going to contract some rare disease. You can get these from any department store really and they go for like $20 but are worth it. I know Brita makes them too but they kind of have a weird taste to them.

5. Flip flops. Your shoes break. The shower is nasty. Somebody finds a pool with an unlocked gate. The possibilities are endless for why you need a grimy pair of flip flops.

6. Hand sanitizer, lotion, and a chapstick. These are all tiny things that fit into your purse but come in handy when you get sunburned unexpectedly (whoops fell asleep on the beach again) or the airport is making you feel especially nasty.

7. A book. Even though I hate buying books (because I know I’m only going to read them once and that’s what the library is for) having them while traveling tight is not a bad idea because you never know how long it’s gonna take to stand in that line or how boring the tour is gonna be. It’s always kinda nice to leave your book behind for the next curious traveler that comes your way. Plus this way, you have less stuff coming home than you did leaving! Now how cool is that!

8. EXTRA Converter/ Charger. No, NOT one. Seriously just don’t. Especially when abroad, these babies burn out like it’s nobody’s business and then you are up the creek without a paddle. Just bring an extra they go for like $5 on eBay! SERIOUSLY HOW CHEAP ARE YOU 

I wanted to get to ten but this is all I got for now. CIAO!

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Il Dolce Far Niente

I remember my final days in Florence. I remember how as the weeks added up, how I missed more and more having responsibilities, jobs, basically just being accountable for more than just getting on a plane on time. I missed being important to someone, to something.

Well now, here I am. It’s 4:45 on a Tuesday and I have been up since 7:30 am, and after this too-short hour I have off, I will work until 9:00 pm (then I’ll probably go to the bar, which is besides the point).

I miss the days when if I felt like it, I could linger in a cafe for an hour. I miss when I could walk into a museum, just because. I miss when I could meet a stranger and just chat with them for a little, not trying to occupy my mind with what else I had to do that day. At the time, I missed serving a purpose. Now here I am, trying to fit in when the hell I can possibly eat breakfast (which usually ends up being a piece of fruit I eat while I’m sitting at the traffic light on Ocean Ave).

What the hell was I thinking? Yes, having things to do is great. I’m not saying I want to be unemployed, or the worst sin of them all, bored. But with more longing than I have ever felt for any person, I miss being able to be. I miss thinking about the taste of the food that I am eating and thinking about the conversation I am having. I miss the sweetness of doing nothing. Il dolce far niente. 

In America, we hustle, hustle, hustle. We work three jobs and we try to get the kids to soccer, lacrosse, and track and we get to the gym at 6:30 am and we eat lunch at the drive-thru and we take long hours because we really need the money but what is it for, really? What are we working for, honestly? When is the payoff going to come?

You let me know when you find out. In the meantime, I’ll be looking up one-way flights back to Italy.

Nothing.

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Time Commitments

When one (unfortunately) arrives home once again and is greeted by armful by armful of happy friend, one is bound to come across many people who will say, “Yes, I did that too, during my summer session abroad!”

Wait… your summer session? Now, I totally understand if you have time commitments for the semester, financial problems (although from what I have heard, most people spend almost the same amount during their summer session as they would during a semester abroad, but that’s another odd issue entirely), or familial issues, but honestly, it seems to me that a summer session just means this – you got jipped.

If you’re not aware, a summer session tends to run about three to four weeks, sometimes going for as long as six, while study abroad sessions usually range from thirteen to sixteen weeks. Sounds like a big difference? That’s because it is. A summer session is a vacation. A long vacation, but a vacation at that. A semester abroad is an attempt at life.

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I remember when four weeks passed during my time in Florence (I happened to be at Oktoberfest at the time, if I remember correctly) and I looked around and said to myself, What if I had to leave right now? What if at this moment, I was packing my bags and being shipped back off to the Jerz?

At four weeks, one is barely adapted to life in another country, another world. One is still a stranger (and probably is still one at the three-and-a-half month mark, too). Many people subconsciously see this as a good thing- they don’t really want to totally assimilate. They don’t want their own habits to have to change, they don’t want to step too far outside their comfort zone, they just want to see a little bit just in time for them to get homesick and get back on the plane to be greeted by a tearful Mom.

When my own friends left for their summer sessions, a few weeks before I left for my semester in Florence, I was a little jealous. I was scared to go away for so long. Petrified, actually. It was like taking a too-big bite of cake when I should have only had a spoonful and now it was falling embarrassingly out of my mouth and everyone was staring. Even when I first got there, in between the moments of extreme excitement, I thought to myself, What have I gotten myself into? What planet do I live on? 

But just like anything else, we all get used to our new surroundings and we learn to adapt. We create our new selves and new homes, and when it’s time to leave, we will reach for our armfuls of our new friends too.

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La Famiglia e Tutto

Today I had a meeting to go to (shocker). And as with most of my meetings, I didn’t really feel like going, mostly because I would just rather be in my room pinning things on Pinterest. However, also with most of my meetings, I still showed up.

However this one was a little bit different- a study abroad luncheon for my Italy group, in the exact same room that we all sat in about six months ago, when we were complete strangers. I remember trying to be a brave and sitting at a table with the girls, none of whom I had ever seen before or even knew what to say to them. I sat there and quietly ate my free sandwich (I did show up, didn’t I?) and got out as soon as I could. Thinking of my upcoming semester in Italy, I never felt so scared and unsure in my life. Looking back now, I’ve never been so confident and proud of any other decision I have ever made.

Funny how this time when I walked into the room, I was greeted by smiling faces of all ages and from all different backgrounds, all of whom I had only ever known within my ancient city of Florence. Odd how things change. To see all of us out of our elements, struggling to fit into what feels like this new culture, was scary yet comforting, knowing that once again, we weren’t alone.

And just like now, we weren’t alone the first time we set off to meet a new culture in a new country, either– we had each other. To think we will always be as close as we once were is pretty ridiculous, but I don’t think that really matters. No matter how much time goes by and how long we stay best friends with our childhood neighbors, our kindergarten playmates, our college roommates, our high school boyfriends– they will never have what we all had together. Strangers who, in relying on one another as family, friends, and comrades, became a little globe-trotting family.

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How To Live

So right now I am in my NEW BED! Well, not really new. Actually it’s borrowed from our realtor but whatever it’s new to me. The point is that I have moved once again, but this time it’s back to school for my LAST SEMESTER! Great now I’m depressed.

Anyway, as I was moving in, I looked at the piles of junk that my mother and I deposited on my bed. Bags and bags of clothes, printers, fans, jewelry boxes, backpacks… and two lone suitcases. The two suitcases that I was allowed to bring for my semester in Italy. That’s it. Two suitcases.

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And you know what’s funny? As I looked at this giant pile that was ever-growing on my bed, I wondered how much of that stuff I actually really needed. I went to Italy with two suitcases, and never missed a thing. These new perfectly content suitcases that had the chance to see the world. I visited seven other countries during my semester abroad and 15 Italian cities and had plenty to prepare me for the cold, the heat, and the ugly. So did I really need all of this stuff? No. I didn’t.

Am I going to send it back? Uhh, no. As I explained to my mother I had already spent a semester wearing the same shirt basically every day and that was just fine but I like having my closet back. But looking at that pile and sorting through my junk, it became clear that although travel teaches you how to deal with new people, new cultures, and new habits, it also teaches you how to live.

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Home is Where… You Are.

Okay, don’t laugh, but throughout my entire life, I have been telling myself that I will probably live in New Jersey. Most likely, I would live in the tri-state area, work in New York City, all the meanwhile staying near my family and friends and college. Doesn’t sound too shabby, right?

WRONG. Well, maybe for me. Studying abroad does a funny thing to you (among many others)- it teaches you that you don’t have to be anywhere. The world does not crumble away to nothing when you leave, and even your mother will get along just fine without you. All of a sudden, the world feels much more accessible.

And this leads to the prospect of being able to live anywhere. Spend a few years hanging out in Dublin? Why not. Working out of Madrid for awhile? Bring it on. Chill in Portugal for a little bit? Can’t think of a reason not to.

On the one hand, this is a scary thought. Suddenly, there are an obscene amount of options and things to do and you are no longer limited by something as mundane as a country boundary. From now until forever, the world will be yours, not only a place to visit, but a place to  live.

Home

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Let’s Always Be Friends.

Since winter break kicked in and Italy booted me out back in December, my world traveling has unfortunately hit a standstill. For quite some time, there will be no European cities to conquer, no wild beasts to tame, and no languages to grasp. This is kind of depressing. But at the same time, I have realized that sometimes, here in the Middle of Nowhere, New Jersey, you can still have… fun?

The other night, I went bowling with my friends from high school, having connived my dear friend Paul to drive me the thirty minutes in exchange for a box of Christmas chocolate. We drove throughout the tiny back roads before we got to the bowling alley, where we drank White Russians (The Big Lebowsky), made fun of Dan’s dilapidated bowling stance, mercilessly harassed the other team, and scored less than 70s.

Is this hiking the towns of Cinque Terre, hovering on the edge of cliffs? No. Is this exploring the dark ruins of Pompeii? No. Is this running around Paris as it snows with a beret on your head? No.

But you know what? It’s not half bad, either. Can you have fun traveling alone? Yes, of course you can. But doing ordinary things with extraordinary people makes you remember that you don’t need a plane ticket to have an adventure. Go to trivia night. Go to the lame bowling alley. Show up for half price apps, even if all you order is a water because you’re still just as cheap as you were in high school. You don’t need a suitcase or a ridiculous budget or really anything else, for that matter. You just need a couple of friends. And this is what makes you richer than any world traveler.

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