Italians Have Small Feet

In Pisa, I had the pleasure of meeting two fellow travelers, Jose, from the Dominican Republic, and Marie from Montreal, both of whom were studying in Valencia. The three of us shared the two- bedroom, one bathroom apartment known as the Pisa Towers Hotel. Our first night together, having decided that we were not tired, we wandered around quiet and surprisingly easy-to-navigate city, eventually stumbling upon the infamous tower in all of its leaning splendor.

The next morning, we traveled back to the tower, this time, to take in its awesome views by day. However, when we arrived, there was a steady downpour of rain. Yet, coming from London, I refused to let a little rain stop me so I urged the three of us to buy the 15-euro ticket to ascend the tower. Upon climbing the winding staircase and inching our way through an even smaller one to get to the top of the tower, I heard a loud, thunderous “boom.” Suddenly, the sky opened and within minutes I was soaking wet with my shoes and jeans drenched as a thunder-storm passed overhead.  Since we were already wet, we decided to continue to stay on the tower. It was a good decision since, once we had made our way inside, we had to wait within the tower for the guards to let us out of the building. It was surreal to lean against the walls of the leaning tower of Pisa for 15 to 20 minutes. I would never have imagined that anything like that would happen in my life.

Eventually, after a nice lunch at a restaurant in which we, covered in water, became the center of attention, and a lovely tour of the magnificent duomo of Pisa, I said “good-bye” to Jose and Marie. I made my way to the train station, purchased a one-way ticket to Florence and ran in my squishy shoes to catch the soon- departing train.

On the train, I received some weird looks from my fellow passengers when I removed my socks and shoes. Anyway, upon arriving in Florence, I was pleasantly surprised to learn that shoes stores lined practically every block in the city, which would enable me to replace my wet shoes with sleek Italian shoes. Or so I thought! Unfortunately, I had to travel for the better part of an hour in 4 different stores before I could find anything size 46. That is when I discovered that Italians have small feet.

Read more of my adventures at staffordtravels.blogspot.com

My first day back

London was not the same city that I had left behind three weeks ago. For starters, I was amazed to see the shining sun and the blue skies as the plane descended onto the runway, a complete change from the gray, damp city that I had left behind. It was the first sign that this semester would be a lot different from this past Fall. Instead of feeling overwhelmed and out of place like a fish out of water, I arrived to hugs and greeting of “welcome back” from my flatmates– not suitemates, but flatmates. The first to welcome me was another exchange student, Samuel, who, coincidentally, was also the first person to greet me when I moved in last September. But it wasn’t until I saw Charlotte, my flatmate from Worcestershire (pronounced Woo/ster/sheer) in the Midlands, that I felt back at home, giving her a big hug. It felt so nice to be back in our kitchen, the main lounge in the flat where the seven of us come from our separate rooms to join together, often cooking side by side and sitting down for dinner. With that sense of familiarity in the kitchen, with the usual pots and pans drying around the sink to the smell of someone else’s cooking, I felt right at home. Charlotte and I chatted a bit as she “did her washing up,” discussing how much schoolwork we have already, before I retired to my room, weary of jetlag.

Later that evening, I caught up with the rest of my flatmates in the kitchen: the diminutive Jane, a freshman studying Traditional Chinese; my neighbor from across the Hall, Emily, a Turkish major who came to college after growing up in the forests of the south of England; and William, a post-grad student studying development. Also, later in the week, the kitchen was the same place where I ran into Hikaru, an exchange student from Tokyo, who, after describing her whirlwind travels across Europe during her Christmas break, retired to her room to finish a paper due the next day.

Overall, it felt good to be back, comforted by a sense of familiarity, as well a feeling that this semester would be different.

It’s Winter Break…Waiting to go back abroad

Hello, I am Dominique. After 3 months of studying abroad at the School of Oriental and African Studies this past Fall, I am returning to London town this Winter for another semester of gray skies, rainy weather and bad food. At least those are the images of London that come to mind when I tell all of my friends that I’m returning to London. They don’t really understand and I can tell by the look on their faces that they are wondering why I would return.

There are several reasons. First, London is just so vast that I need more time to explore all of the hidden gems. From Notting Hill in West London to the clubs in South London to the East Enders, to the street markets in North London and, finally, Central London, my home, there is so much to see and so little time (now that the sun sets at 3pm). London is delightfully cosmopolitan and diverse with much to see and lots to do. Second, I don’t want to say good-bye to all of my friends that I’ve made at school. They are a great bunch and you will be hearing more about them in the upcoming weeks. Third, London has a historic feel, hard to describe, tangible when walking around the city. For example, my favorite moment was walking along Westminster Bridge, the site of William Wordsworth’s Composed Upon Westminster Bridge, and seeing the very places that inspired the poem—the dome of St. Paul’s Cathedral, the National Theater and the Thames River. It was grand to witness the splendid beauty of the city.

Anyway, writing this entry from my tiny room in Baltimore makes me nostalgic for London. I can’t wait to return and update you about my adventures.

Until later,

Cheerio!

Hello from Australia!

Americans have quite the conception of Australia, this lonely land mass quite literally on the opposite side of the Earth. For one, we call it the land “down under,” which you’ll only hear from tour operators here. Australia also probably conjures images of the outback, kangaroo-riding cowboys, blonde surfers, and constant sunshine. Well, I can assure you, that is not the case– at least in Melbourne.

In fact, Melbourne is a lot like New York in certain ways. Although greater Australia is pretty warm most of the time, Melbourne is the southernmost city and does in fact have a winter. Upon arriving in July (the dead of their winter), I was unpleasantly surprised by rather cold temperatures and the most erratic weather I’ve ever experienced– they call it “four seasons in one day.” It of course doesn’t compare to a New York winter, but I arrived to 40 degree weather with a suitcase full of summer clothes. My mistake.

And though Melbourne’s central business district is just a speck on the map in comparison to New York, you really couldn’t tell the difference if you took a walk around. Starbucks, McDonald’s (which they comically call Macka’s… they shorten everything), KFC, and even Subway are all over the city, as are Target and K-Mart. There is the tram system, a very obtrusive metal monster interrupting traffic and pedestrians every which way (never have I appreciated the merits of an underground subway so much), but other than that, Melbourne looks like any other city.

Yet there are hints that you are, indeed, on the opposite side of the Earth. Melbourne is incredibly international; there’s more than one China Town, an Italian district, a Greek precinct, and pretty much every ethnic food you can think of… but everybody is either Caucasian or Asian. Black people are extremely rare, and Hispanic people simply do not exist here. It’s bizarre. And though they obviously speak English here, it might as well be another language. The accent is so thick and the phrasology so unique that for the first few weeks I just smiled and nodded at people. Instead of saying “how are you,” they ask “how are you going,” or more commonly, “how ya going.” I had absolutely no idea how to answer this when I first got here, and constantly told people where I was going or the mode of transport I was taking, only to get weird looks. It was awkward. But I’m learning…

(By the way, I’m Courtney Chin, a member of the Columbia College class of 2010 studying abroad at the University of Melbourne for the Fall 2009 semester. I promise I’ll introduce myself properly in the next post!)