Farewell, Florence

How do you say goodbye to a beautiful place like Florence? A place I've come to love, a place I will look back on only fondly, yet a place of which I can only hope, desperately yet uncertainly, to return.

I left Florence this morning. I walked back to my apartment at 5:45AM. On the way back, I made a few pit stops. Being the only person on these ancient streets, it was easy to see myself at various times this semester, and, cherishing these moments, I realized the exact moments that I will remember forever.

I walked to the middle of the Ponte Vecchio and watched the sun rise.

I walked past Piazza della Repubblica one last time, and I turned behind me and watched it disappear.

As I approached the Duomo, I thought back to a crazy toga band party we played in Piazza della Signora, the Uffizi Square. I thought back on all my crazy friends running around Uffizi Square in togas and I realized that yes, Florence may look exactly the same the next time I return, but it will never be exactly the same. This was a truly unique, once in a lifetime experience.

I turned behind me and watched the Duomo, too, disappear.

I turned the corner. The leather market vendors were setting up for their long days. I thought back on all the nights I'd walk home and feel the spirits of this ancient city. I remembered one night in particular, walking alone down the middle of the Uffizi, surrounded by the statues of older Florentines - Michaelangelo, Machiavelli, Amerigo Vespucci - overwhelmed with the feeling that these people, the most brilliant people of all time - the people who the world won't ever forget - once too walked these same charming streets.

As I looked up at their wise and knowing-looking statued silhouettes it hit me that the world would surely be a much different place today had these people, from this tiny tuscan town, never been born.



I thought back to the excitement I'd feel when I'd turn a street corner and discover something small, yet new. A sign noting Mozart's house where he stayed on his visit to Florence, in particular.

I thought back on all the peaceful walks I'd had in Florence. Those sunset walks on the river, late night walks past the Duomo.

The sky looks bigger in Florence. Maybe it's because the buildings are lower. Who knows? One thing's for sure though: A sunset will never go unnoticed once back in America.

April

Finally got my trio together this past month. Been bringing the swing to Italy.

Performing at the Blue Note Jazz Club in Milan

Milan has a long history as a performing arts center; Mozart even performed there once. But at the Blue Note, I was told that I may have been the first person ever to perform in Milan - this very fashion forward city - in white socks.

Beautiful Sestri Levante in the (N.W. Italian) Panhandle

Sundown in Sestri Levante

Check out this cool video NYU put together:

Greece; Mykonos, Siros, Naxos, Santorini

I can't say why it's taken me nearly a month to write about Greece, besides that a lot happened there and, for the most part, I didn't want to write about it immediately; I wanted a chance to stand back from it all and remember it, miss it, before I sat down and wrote.

The trip to Greece was totally last minute. Before coming abroad, I knew that Greece was the one place that I'd really wanted to go to while overseas. It's an exciting feeling that I felt, one week before spring break, napping in my hotel bed in Amsterdam, knowing that one week from that moment I'd be on spring break; that I'd definitely be somewhere, but totally unsure of where that somewhere would be.

Three days later it hit me: this was my chance. Loosely coordinating with different friends also traveling in Greece, I quickly booked my flights from Rome to Athens, Athens to Mykonos, and ten days later, Athens back to Rome.

My flight to Athens was that Friday, three days after choosing and booking Greece. I spent Thursday night in Rome, getting a taste of the nightlife there, before heading to Athens early Friday morning.

I watched Woody Allen's, "Bananas" on the flight to Athens, and all the communication hardships I've felt since coming to Italy and knowing no Italian ended - at least for the hour long flight -. I was sitting next to a man who spoke no English - not sure what exactly he spoke - I was watching "Bananas" with my headphones in; the movie, however, was so funny, that, even without the words, he couldn't take his eyes off the computer screen and neither of us could stop laughing. We were both in hysterics. So loud in fact, that we woke up his wife who was sitting next to us. We couldn't stop laughing, yet we couldn't say one word to one another - and he couldn't even hear the movie!

Upon arriving in Mykonos, I found myself in a strangely beautiful, Smurf-like land.


We quickly learned that we had come to Greece in the "no season...'Not high season, not low season, but no season,'" and found the white streets, white houses, bare trees, and white sky to be eery yet charming, strange yet calming, beautiful yet scary.


The town warmed up that first night and into second day, as sky turned from white to blue.




We rented ATV's and drove all day. Through the mountains, the beaches, the towns, the neighborhoods. It was a beautiful ride. Riding through the mountains was a very thrilling feeling; these weren't Appalachian Hills we were messing with. These hills looked like they'd come straight out of Lord of the Rings.


Dinners in Mykonos were wonderful. Each night we went to the port, where we'd eat on the water. Lots of seafood and wine, shrimp and desert; each night was very relaxing. I really enjoyed the after-dinner shot-like drink they'd bring us, "for digestion." Not even sure if there was alcohol in it, it tasted very licorice-like, and I noticed that my stomach actually did feel great after drinking.

We spent the next day or two on ferries, traveling from Mykonos to Santoirini. The first stop from Mykonos was Siros. It was a cloudy, freezing, and rainy day there, and after a long meal in a pizza joint to pass time, some of us set out exploring the island. It was freezing cold and raining hard, but before retiring to the coffee shop, I wanted to check out the city a bit. It was creepy, I won't lie; I walked all over the city and saw maybe three people but fifty, maybe even sixty, cats. Two people I saw, a father and son playing soccer in the street, were dodging these slow moving, fat cats with their soccer ball as they kicked it.


I turned one corner down a very sketchy looking street. Something attracted me to it; maybe it was the gloomy sky. Whatever. I turned. I was greeted by a huge pack of cats. They were all so fat, I had to do a double take, because I honestly wasn't even sure that I was looking at cats. I was. They walked around slowly, eying me as I walked through. The sky got darker as I turned a corner, and the cats began minding their own business, but they creeped me out. I turned the street and went to the coffee shop.

After leaving Siros, we spent a quick night in Naxos before boarding a separate ship that took us to Santorini.


The ferry in to Santorini was stunning. The island of Santorini is uniquely beautiful; it is situated on top of a huge open rock, miles and miles long. What a sight to pull in to that port!


Santorini was the island that I felt I came to know best, as we spent the most time there. Now that it has passed, I think back fondly to the late night ATV rides from town back to the hostel, the cold wind blowing in my face, pulling into the hostel's lot, and taking a dead silent moment to glance at the millions of stars in the sky and the sea calmly sitting very closely in front of me.


We rode the ATV's all over the island during the day. One day, we came across a totally deserted town, except for a single old man - and his donkey! ("For two euro, you can sit on my donkey and take a picture," he said. Of course I did.) It was interesting to wonder where the people in this town were. It was beautiful and up-kept greatly, some buildings were in the midst of renovation - yet no one was in sight. We drove to a side of the road restaurant that treated us with some real Greek food; not just Greek salads. I discovered how tasty snails are - it's like eating mussels but with more flavor, and I also discovered how easy it is to forget what snails are when ordering them (I can't even say how many times I mistook them for rollie pollies or caterpillars, asking many times for the wrong thing to be passed down).


We watched the most beautiful sunsets all over the island.




I spent Wednesday in Rhodes (you can read about that below). I remembered, as I was boarding the ferry from Santorini to Rhodes, overhearing some American college talk, so I joined in. We talked for a few minutes before parting and going our separate ways, but you can imagine how surprised I must have been upon arriving in Athens for the final night in Greece, opening my hostel room, and learning that my roommates were those same people on my boat to Rhodes.

Athens was a wild town. At night time, the people pack the streets, drinking and partying on the lounge tables that line the streets up and down. I'd never seen anything quite like it. Our hostel had a rooftop bar that overlooked the Parthenon. What a sight!


At day time, Athens was even crazier - well, at least for me. I decided to go on a mission and eat every snack at one of the food cartons. Great idea, (I ate a doughnut, a cinnamon roll and a doughnut all within ten minutes) until I went back to my hostel, desperately in need of the bathroom, only to find my old roommate friends (all girls) all straightening their hair getting ready for the night.

I can't tell you how many times I thought to myself while there, "I can't believe I'm in Greece." I have so many great memories of being there, but most of all, I remember the peaceful nights in Santorini - the wind blowing on the ATV's; a nice, quiet, midnight cab right down the island to the deserted port; the sunsets; the beautiful day trip in Mykonos - cruising through the highways up the mountains, down the hills, and around the oceans into fairy tale land (that is, until Starbucks popped up in the middle of nowhere!)


It was such a wonderful trip. I miss the nights in Greece and really hope I get to relive them one day again. Oh yeah, and those tomatoes. So fresh, you can chomp 'em like an apple, for real.

Isle of Rhodes

I split from the group last night to do a solo day trip to the Isle of Rhodes. I've always held Rhodes in some sort of mystical, almost fairy-tale like quality.

Part of my Dad's side of the family is from Rhodes, and I remember his uncle, in his old-age, speaking very fondly about his boyhood days there.

As I got older, I learned that some of my closest friends turned out to have ancestry tracing back to Rhodes.

The place has always intrigued me, and, as I found myself in the Greek Isles this week, I couldn't resist going there.

The boat trip there itself was great. The group I have been traveling with was staying in Fiora, a city at the top of the mountain on which the island of Santorini sits. I took a cab down to port a few hours early and, after a quick meal, laid on the dock of the port, the only person on the it, for an hour or so. It was a dead silent, star-filled night. All I could see besides the white tips of the waves were the shadows of the mountains that towered behind me.

The overnight trip was not bad at all. I woke up at 7 on a couch on the boat, went outside to one of the boat's balconies and watched the sea as we pulled in to port.


I arrived in Rhodes this morning around 8:30.

I bought a map and wandered around the old city, trying to make my way to the Jewish section. I didn't realize that I was holding the map upside down, and somehow ended up at a huge palace.

Sensing I was lost, a man asked if he could help me out. Yes, I said. I pulled out my map. He turned it right side up.

He pointed out some key locations and marked them with his pen. His deep and humorous sounding British accent intrigued me and we began to talk. Now technically retired, he had been a Royal Air Force officer who had specifically worked on designing and building nuclear weapons. In his words: "I worked all of my life to destroy Eastern Europe, but in the end, I ended up falling in love with it."

What he fell in love with was the palace that I had run into; it's stones, it's history, and most of all, it's underground tunnels. His name is Graeme Jones, and he now goes by the occupation title: "explorer."

The palace, which had been at different times the headquarters for both the Knight's Templar and the Crusades, holds a series of underground tunnels beneath it that nearly cover the length of the entire city. Having realized that there is no definitive map of these tunnels, Jones decided to do just that. He has spent the last 5 years mapping, measuring, and getting to know the tunnels, moats, walls, bricks, and stone that surround and are beneath the palace. At this rate, he says, he'll be finished in 40 years. Now 60, he admits that he probably won't get the chance to see his project completed, but he says he really enjoys doing what he's doing one day at a time.

We talked for a while, and before long, a few other people joined in. Jones asked us all if we'd like to go on a stroll. He took us on an in-depth and exciting tour of the palace's moats, leading us into pitch black tunnels when he could, showing us where draw bridges used to stand, and telling us exactly how battles were fought, with what, and exactly where.

He showed us the wall of the moat, telling us what layers were added when, which bricks protected which empire, and which stones destroyed others.


Jones loved to talk and, not wanting to spend the whole day learning about this moat, I left the tour after about one hour and a half.

I found the Jewish section of town and quickly found what remains the only intact synagogue on the island; the old Jewish section of town was bombed and destroyed during WWII. Luckily, this one synagogue remains. It was the synagogue in which my uncle's family used to belong, as well as my friend's families - before they all came to the United States.


I quickly found a plaque that listed the family names of the once lively synagogue.


I quickly found my family connection on the list (Franco), as well as the families of many of my closest friends.

Wandering around the synagogue, I found many documents either commemorating or memorializing many of these families. One such document:


Walking around the synagogue and it's accompanying museum, it became obvious that this now nearly non-existent Jewish community used to be a very active one and was a central part of the lives of those Jews who lived there. I learned that the Jewish community of Rhodes used to be large - around 1600 people prior to WWII. However, on July 23, 1944, all of the Jews in Rhodes were rounded up and sent to Auschwitz. Only 10 percent of those survived the war and returned to Rhodes. Then, for various economic reasons - not to mention the creation of the State of Israel -, people began to move away. I spoke with an employee at the Synagogue today who said that only 7 Jewish families remain on the Isle of Rhodes today, less than 30 people.

The employee I spoke with was a young man probably around my age. He is a member of one of those seven families and, throughout our conversation, I couldn't help but wonder how the people connected to me were once connected to the people that are connected to him.

I spent the rest of the day wandering around the charming city. I climbed to the top of the pillar on which the Colossus of Rhodes - one of the 7 wonders of the World - used to stand, and I enjoyed a few beers and a good meal in the hot, beach sun...

It's a surreal feeling being the only person standing on the stone-lined street that the Crusades used to line down. It's a creepy feeling standing on a spot inside a palace's moat in which thousands of people fought and died. It's a strange feeling to imagine a centuries-old Saturday morning service in the same synagogue that I stood in today, thinking about the then-children, now all grandparents, great-grandparents or great-great grandparents of many of my friends and family, now passed on and sitting way up high on that family tree.


I used to think of Rhodes as a mystical and fairy-tale like place. I still do.

Amsterdam

Arriving in Amsterdam last Thursday afternoon and quickly making my way through the airport to the bus station seemed a little too good to be true. It was a very swift maneuver; maybe ten minutes tops - and this includes the Starbucks pit stop. And especially, coming after my Paris airport/metro experience - where a good hour and a half found me, among other things, three ticket machines that don't accept Visa, a change station that doesn't give change, a pack of gum that finally got me that change, the correct train track, the actual train, the actual train going in the right direction - I was shocked that this time, in Amsterdam, it wasn't too good to be true.

At the bus station I asked some guy which train to take in to the city. He was headed that direction too, so he showed me the way.

An interesting guy, he's a Dutch college student studying Industrial Design. He lives in Amsterdam with his family but travels three hours daily getting from his home in Amsterdam to his college, and back.

I asked him about Industrial Design. He was fascinated with my Starbucks coffee cup. "Do you know why there's that indention right there?", he asked, pointing to the indention on the top of the cup. "No," I said. "Do you?"

"No, but there's a reason for it." And after a short pause he laughed, admitting, "I'm only a freshman. One day..."

He told me that Holland is a very smart country in terms of industrial design. For example, he told me, it is a law that each classroom in Holland must have windows on the left side of every room. This is because most students are right handed and, having windows on the left side allows sun to flow into the room, shining light on the student's paper, leaving no shadow on the page for the (right handed) student.

He got off at his stop, I transferred buses, and made my way into the city.

The bus ride was nice. It's very relaxing looking out the window and seeing the suburbs of a town at dusk - the kids playing outside, everyone biking or walking home-, while all the while feeling the excitement of an approaching big city.

Everyone talks about how crazy Amsterdam is, but no one really talks about how beautiful it is...which it is.


I got into the city itself around 6PM, right as the sun was setting, and walked around for a couple of hours before getting in touch with my other friends in town.

I love going to cities on water (I think the arrival-walk-around-the-water walk is my favorite thing to do upon arriving somewhere), and I really enjoyed this walk up and down the various canal-ed streets. It was a nice cold night; as I walked down the quiet canals, the sun was setting, windows were open and I could see families eating dinners, boats were slowly making their way down stream. I was the only person walking down many of these streets, and the colors of the sky mixed with the brushes of trees, wind, and water made the walk extremely charming.


The following day we visited the Van Gogh Museum. I loved it. Since coming to Europe, I've seen a lot of art. Much of it is very church related or grandiose, a little (or way too much) overdone. The works of Van Gogh, and especially Monet, really caught my eyes. Their paintings of nature and portraits of regular people was a real breath of fresh air. More than anything though, I really gained a sense of appreciation for pointillism. I never really understood it until I found myself standing an inch away from one of Van Gogh's forest paintings; all I could see were brushed dots and it was just fascinating to move back and watch the dots turn into depth and shadows and trees and ground.


We also visited the Heineken Museum, which sounds much cooler than it actually is. We went excited - on the lookback, not really sure why? -, but found ourselves in a serious exhibit about the history of Heineken. Throughout the hour long exhibit, I couldn't help but think: Who gives a shit?

The Anne Frank House was a very powerful exhibit. It's somewhere I've wanted to go my entire life, and it was an extremely eery and creepy place.


Anne Frank has always been someone who has fascinated me since I was a child; after reading her diary when I was 9 or 10, the book and her picture scared me, and I often kept it hidden at night. I remembered a certain picture from the photo section of her diary especially standing out to me when I was younger. It was a photo of everyone in the house posing for the camera. As I saw that picture last Saturday at the museum, for the first time in many years, I immediately recognized it. Remembering the creepy feeling it used to give me, I was shocked at the label below it's frame: "Taken in this room."

It was creepy standing in her dark bedroom, with the blinds still shut, wondering where in this room she would sit in the dark.


It was creepy as I approached the bookcase, knowing that many people, including the Nazis that had captured her and all those inside had gone through this bookcase...They probably ran a lot faster than I did though...Or did they? Did they sneak up quietly or did they break in loudly?...The mind can't help wandering once you're inside.


It was creepy sitting in Anne's parent's bedroom wondering where they all were when the Nazi's captured them that morning.

It was creepy looking out the window, the window Anne mentions in her diary for peaking out sometimes, and wondering if I am seeing the same things she saw.


One of the creepiest things about the museum took place before I even went inside. It was a foreshadowing of what was to come. Just before leaving the brightly lit up ticket office and entering the dark house, a quote from Anne's diary is posted on the wall.


Amsterdam was a wonderful trip. There are some things I think I'll keep to myself. For example, I'm not going to tell y'all about the sex show that we went to.

Oh yeah, but look what did make a pop up:

Look closely, it's Hotel Atlanta!

Via Trieste

This charming street, a block or so from NYU in Florence's campus, has a little-known, possibly well hidden history behind it. Not one to often blurt out facts, theories or did-ya-know's, this one caught me off guard a bit, and I definitely think it's worth a share.

I usually walk home after class. At night, it's especially nice. With a little music on the ears, a nice breeze a'flowin', and a beautiful sunset, the walk home is quite delightful. Via Trieste is an especially nice walk down; it houses beautiful yet modern looking apartment buildings, bringing a modern and very refreshing suburban type feel to one street in this mostly ancient looking town.

Anyway, I found out why Via Trieste is so modern, and it isn't charming at all. Via Trieste was re-built after World War Two. After it's main building was torn down (and replaced with these new apartments), the street was renamed (Via Trieste, meaning "Sad Street"). The main building that was torn down was a Nazi headquarter building; it was the Nazi's main center for interrogation in Florence during the war.

Knowing what I've learned about the horrors of Nazi interrogation, this charming walk becomes a bit creepy. And now, as the beautiful sunset turns quickly into black night, I walk just a little faster down Via Trieste.

Amelia/Terni

Yesterday, I had a gig in Amelia, a small town in Italy's Umbria region. A three and a half hour train ride away from Florence, I am grateful to NYU for hooking this gig up, as I'm sure my life would have passed without me seeing this beautiful and seriously impressionable town had they not.

Our train took us to a small town called Narni. A modern town, we sat around drinking coffee and eating figs (something the town is known for) at a local cafe until about 3:45PM, when we were told that we needed to hurry; Amelia is an ancient, walled-in city. The walls close at 4PM, not letting anyone in after that time.

The venue was some sort of ancient palace or concert venue. A huge old building, it's ceilings were covered with beautiful paintings, it's walls were filled with mosaics (mostly maps of the town), and the windows on all sides showed gorgeous views of the entire region.

The gig was a reception for a book that had just been written about the town, and the audience was a hip crowd of artsy, in-the-know people from in and around Amelia.

I was warming up on the piano as the crowd began walking in. Just as I was walking backstage, my teacher told me to keep playing; that the crowd was enjoying the music. It was a joy playing for this crowd of 60 or so. The people were actually listening to the music; it was sort of like I was giving a 20 or 25 minute piano recital. I played mostly ballads: "The Nearness of You," "I Cover The Waterfront," "As Time Goes By," "Polka Dots and Moonbeams," and of course, "Georgia On My Mind."

Check out the view from the piano:

After the gig, we hung around with the locals at a food and wine tasting that took place at the venue. Everyone was dressed up, laughing and talking. An important member of the community (I'm guessing) gave a toast to everyone, and welcomed us. As everyone raised their glasses in joy, I had one of those moments, realizing that for some reason I would remember this night and place forever. Knowing that I will probably never visit this ancient town again, I will always wonder what is now there, if it remains as still as it felt then.

Afterward, we drove to a town called Terni, to see a concert and to hold a jam session at a local cafe.

Terni is a modern city, known as one of Italy's industrial capitols; however, it didn't feel that way as we walked around it. Standing on and looking down the main drag, it looked just like Madison, Wisconsin's State Street; yet, the palm trees that surrounded all the houses reminded me of Charleston, as did the houses, which were very similar-looking to the mansions I've seen there. The streets were some sort of modern cobblestone and, on this peaceful night, all we could hear were the faint tap taps of people walking.

The concert was a different story. We went to hear the American jazz pianist, Joey Calderazzo, and his trio. I've heard his name before, but never checked him out, and, after last night's experience, I've realized that there's good reason for this.

The show had already started once we walked in.

The pianist was playing a solo piece when, all of the sudden, he stopped, turned around to the sound guy and started yelling at him: "The piano does not need to be anywhere near this loud! Gosh!" He started playing again, and the rest of the trio joined in. In the middle of the song, a camera flashed. Calderazzo turned to the audience and yelled, in response, "You've got to be kidding me. Jesus Christ."

Once the song ended, Calderazzo approached the microphone. He began his rant. "Are you kidding me?...I'm not Keith Jarrett, but come on!" He then paused and said, embarrassing every American in the crowd, "We have a word in America called, "use discretion!"
An audience member yelled back: "But you are in Italy!"
To which Calderazzo actually responded, "Well fuck that. Then I won't come back to Italy."
After a long awkward pause, Calderazzo yelled out: "Who said that?"
A man raised his hand and yelled, "I did."
Calderazzo said to him, "Come up here! You want to have this conversation? Seriously, come up here!"
The man said, "We can have this talk after the show, but you are here to play and we are here to listen to you."
Calderazzo, noting defeat, said fine, went back to the piano and continued what was certainly the most awkward and uncomfortable show I've ever attended.

After the show, we went to a cafe and held a jam session. A lot of fun; it didn't end until about 3AM. At 3 we all decided that instead of paying the 20 euro for the hotel, we should just take the first train back to Florence. We got to the train station at 3:30, bought our tickets, and, after an unsuccessful hunt for food, boarded the train a little early, fell asleep, and woke up in Florence, at 8:30 this morning.

Soccer, Football, Soccer, Football, etc.

I went to my first soccer game the other night. Well, I went to my first European soccer game the other night. Lots of confusion at the game when asked if I'd been to a soccer game before. I wasn't sure whether or not to answer yes or no; do my little brother's YMCA games count?

Lots more confusion over the super-cool, apparently Italian (?), (definitely) American girls who, upon discovering that this game was approaching, would text message me asking if I wanted to go to the "football" game.

Florence was playing Milan, the best team in Italy, with certainly Italy's most internationally-acclaimed players, including Ronaldino and David Beckham. Anyway, with Milan being Florence's biggest rival, every year this is Florence's biggest game; the crazy and sometimes hostile fans are especially crazy and sometimes even super duper hostile at this game. Last year, the police had to tear gas many fans who stormed the field and started fighting.

The stadium was huge, and packed. So crowded in fact, that the only plausible explanation for this is that everyone who lives in Florence must have been at that game. The stadium made use of the "high-school football" lighting, which gave out that "high-school football" game vibe, which was cool.



The fans were nuts. Screaming and yelling and even whistling cheers for the entire duration of the game, storming the field when Florence scored (only one point was scored tho, I should note.), I've never heard such a consistently loud group of people anywhere, ever. Well...that is, until Florence lost and all the Florence fans turned against their team, booing them, flicking them off, and screaming curse words at the players as they walked off the field.

The players responded, yelling back, shrugging their shoulders.

The game is fun to watch and it moves fast. The next day, when we told one of our American born professors that we went to the game the night before, he told us that, when compared with European soccer, baseball is almost an intellectual activity. He said that he has tried many times to show baseball to his Italian friends, but that they all become extremely bored very quickly. He said that besides being a very slow game, baseball is also very confusing to those who don't know the game, and almost impossible to explain. He said that his friends are often confused about bat throwing etiquette; in other words, they often ask him what the rules are for throwing down the bat after hitting the ball, insisting that, in order to be a legal bat throw, it must be thrown down in only one certain way.

Paris

The Paris trip was wonderful. Absolutely s'wonderful, to quote a favorite song.

As soon as I found my way out of the airport and on to the train, I felt myself waking up from something. Maybe I was waking up from the "Jewish geography" talks that have plagued and taken over many of my conversations since coming to Florence. I found myself eavesdropping like crazy, on interesting conversations, on interesting people - in English! Often, in Florence, I feel like I am surrounded by really interesting conversations; in Italian tho, I can't understand!

As soon as I found my way out of the metro station - this took about 10 minutes; I couldn't find any exits - I was really in awe of what was in front of me. It was loud, cars were speeding by, people were packing the streets; in front on me there were lights and tall buildings and cafes (with people inside and out) and, in the distance, I saw a bridge. I was shocked at how old the buildings looked (not really sure why this surprised me), how grand and palace-like they were, how wide the sidewalks were.

I walked to the bridge, to the river, the Seine. It was a beautiful night. I finally saw the Eiffel Tower, which was blinking on and off. I walked up and down the sidewalk next to the bridge, passing what I think was Notre Dame and plenty of other beautiful buildings, cafes, and people. People crowding coffee shops, and cafes, people crowding and waiting to enter theatres. It was loud and noisy and crazy and wild. I loved it.

I went to Paris to visit my great friend Lindsay, and we had quite the weekend. Each day was a big day and I really got a good look at Paris.

A highlight was, after a Schwarma stuffing at a phenomenal Falafel restaurant -that looked like it was set in an 80's porno film (...not that I've seen any, of course...) in Paris' Jewish section, we visted Pere-Lachaise Cemetary. Easily one of the coolest places I've ever been, the eery and creepy vibe of the cemetary (the deteriorating graves, the cobblestone streets, the skinny trees with no leaves) combined with the dark and gloomy weather of the day combined to create, somehow, an extremely charming vibe and fresh feel.



We did the musicians tour that day, wandering around the cemetary to visit, among others, Chopin, Edith Piaf, and Jim Morrison.

Along the way, we stopped often to look at intriguing grave stones. One particularly interesting standout was a grave whose words were only, "Enfin suel," which means, "Finally alone."



There was something really charming about the cemetery, and, on a return to Paris, it is definitely a place I'd want to revisit and spend more time.

Next we to an exhibit at the Grand Palais. It was exhibition of work by an apparently very well-known artist of today, Christian Boltanski. An exhibit that Lindsay has since labeled "the laundry that Joe left in Paris," it was a wide spread of clothes throughout the floor of the Palais. In the center of the Palais stood a huge pile of clothes; each minute or so, a crane would come down, pick up a pile of clothes, bring them up in the air, and then drop them back on top of the pile.



Although I really didn't understand the exhibit, it was a very interesting thing to see, and while it didn't connect with me emotionally as it obviously had with many others, there was something about it that made it hard to look away. And while I also couldn't tell you what I enjoyed about it or why I liked it, I did, and am very glad I went.

We went to the Louvre next. We only had an hour or so to have our go at it, but we made the most of it, wandering through the underground caves, Napoleon's apartment, and even made our way to the famous Mona Lisa (although I must admit I enjoyed the painting directly across from it more).

While I didn't find the Holy Grail per se, I did find pancakes at the Louvre's Starbucks, which were delicious.

On Saturday we went to Versailles. A really jaw dropping place, I don't even know how I could possibly go about describing it; I've got a pretty good vocabulary, but you wouldn't be interested in my description or my talkin' 'bout. A place I've always wanted to visit - I've google-imaged it quite a few times over the years - I'm glad I got to see it in person.



A highlight for me was, walking to dinner that night, we passed a coffee shop. Everyone inside was dancing. They weren't grinding or hip-hoppin'; they were dipping one another, spinning eachother, dancing and laughing to the romantic, accordion-laced french music playing inside the cafe. The whole scene was very charming and exciting to me. I felt like, in some way, after seeing that, I could say I saw Paris.