How to Live La Dolce Vita Without Spending Any Money: A Tale to Make You Cringe

WARNING: This was really stupid of me. Things could have gone terribly wrong and I was extremely lucky. I think I have learned my lesson, well I’ll at least promise not to do it again. I hope you can still enjoy this tale of my foolish adventures in the midst of your cringing. 

Roma, amor backwards, the city of romance. I only had a couple of days to see it all during my midterm break. But I was stuck. I knew there was a lot to see in Rome, but after I visited the Colosseum, I didn’t know what to do next. I was sitting in the Campo de Fiori, having a gelato, when I was approached by a man. He was average height, in his late thirties, wearing a suit. He said something to me in Italian. “Sorry, I don’t understand.” I said, eager to get back to my gelato. 

“You speak english?” He asked. He introduced himself as Claudio and began a conversation with me. He then offered to show me around the city. Hmm...I was not even remotely interested in this guy, he was kind of a creeper. But, it would be nice to have a guide to take me around the city...and it would be a great adventure! Isn’t that what is supposed to happen when a girl goes to Italy by herself? She meets some handsome Italian guy and they have a wonderful adventure. Claudio was not handsome, or young, or interesting, but perhaps I could still have an adventure. I agreed.

We walked up the hill, Gianiculo, and it was absolutely stunning. The sun filtered through the trees, dappling the cobblestoned street with light. The Ponentino breeze carried the scent of flowers and the sound of trickling water played in the distance. I was pulled out of my happy reverie when Claudio took my hand and kept trying to kiss me. Ugh. He picked a flower and put it in my hair. “Como si bella,” he said to me, “That means, how you are beautiful.” Wow, that was really cheesy. I rolled my eyes when he turned back around. If I was going to have to put up with this to see the city, maybe I was better off on my own. At the top of the hill, we could see all of Rome stretched out beneath us bathed in the light from the setting sun. He tried kissing me again. He came up behind me and I could here him breathing heavy in my ear. I pushed him away. This was really disgusting and uncomfortable, even now, I can hardly write this down. 

“I’m going to go,” I said, walking away. 

“Signorina, la mia soprano, aspeta! Maybe we could have a drink?” Oh, free stuff...maybe I could put up with this a little longer. I knew I should go, but I decided to have a drink with him. There was a restaurant at the top of the hill, we had Prosecco with olives and some other snack type things. It would have been lovely, if Claudio wasn’t there. I was eating an olive and pulled the pit out of my mouth. Next thing I knew, his mouth was around my fingers and he took the pit in his mouth.

“Gross!” I was repulsed.

“I wanted it because it was yours,” he smirked at me. What was wrong with this guy? He told me that he wanted to be an opera singer when he was younger. His favorite opera was Don Giovanni, of course it was. “La cidarem la mano...” he wheezed, taking my hand. The rape song, lovely.  

After we finished our drinks, he took me to the Vatican and then out for another drink. This time we had Brachero (I’m not sure how to spell it or any of this italian stuff for that matter...). It was a sweet white wine. “Dame la mano, give me your hand,” he kept saying to me. He kissed each of my fingers, naming them in italian. I wrinkled my nose. “Don’t you feel the fire?” He asked me, urgently. I didn’t like where this was going, so I decided to mess with him.

“Fire? What fire?” I asked frantically, looking around.

“No, no, il focco, the fire inside,”

“You mean like being warm?”

“Well, uh, yes,” he looked at me very seriously, “are you warm?”

“Actually, I’m a bit cold,” I said, pulling my jacket closer to me. Claudio looked disappointed. 

We walked to the Trevi fountain and then had dinner in the piazza outside the Pantheon. The whole day I had been carrying a shopping bag full of all my things. I had only brought a tiny bag and could not fit everything inside. Claudio noticed it, “This is no good!” he said. Ho took me to one of the street vendors and told me to pick a new bag. I  protested weakly, and then happily took my pick. We then walked to the Spanish steps and the Via Veneto. When he wasn’t looking at me, I made faces at him. I crossed my eyes and stuck out my tongue. He took me to Harry’s Bar and we had martinis that were 15 euros each. He told me he wanted to marry me.

“Ok, where’s the ring?” I asked, tartly. 

“Well, it would be weird if I already had it,” he said sheepishly. Not much weirder than anything that had already happened, I thought. 

It was getting late, and I wanted to get away from him. I made up some story about having to meet a friend somewhere and he agreed to get me a taxi. My hostel was about an hour outside the city center, and Claudio came with me so he probably paid close to one hundred Euros round trip. I don’t know why this guy was spending so much on me. But I made it back to my room, safe and relieved. 

The next day, I agreed to see him for dinner. Julia and Namesake warned me that I shouldn’t, I knew I shouldn’t as well. But for some reason, I couldn’t resist. Maybe i just wanted free dinner, maybe I liked the attention, or maybe I just liked the sense of danger. I told him I would meet him at the Spanish Steps. While I waited, I visited the church at the top of the stairs. I got down on my knees and prayed, “Jesus, I know I shouldn’t go, but I can’t say no. Please help me to resist, help me just run away.” But I failed to say no. I met him, and we went to dinner. I had spaghetti carbonara, it was really good. He took me to a bar afterwards and he told me about his family. His sister, Louisa, is a big name ballet choreographer, and his mother owns an art gallery. I told him about my family. As I spoke about them, I realized more and more that this was not what I wanted. This was not who I am. 

Somehow, I lost track of the time and when I realized how late it was, the trains had stopped running. I didn’t have a way to get back home. Claudio offered to let me stay at his mom’s house. I refused. I hailed a taxi, I would pay for it myself. I shook his hand and walked away. 

When I returned to London, I turned on the TV and Roman Holiday was on. It was strange to see all of the places I had just been, in black and white. Audrey Hepburn’s character wanted an adventure just like me. She left behind the confines of her everyday life to learn something about herself. I learned a lot about myself and the adult world in Rome. Let’s just hope I put it to use and avoid situations like this in the future...Ok, that’s enough, back to whatever I was doing before this!

Royal Wedding Madness!

Hi...I'm back...it's been awhile...don't be angry with me!

So the royal wedding was awhile ago, but I'm going to tell you about it anyways! We were planning a get together where we would have snacks and watch the ceremony on TV. But I got to thinking, I could do the same thing back in the states. Since I'm in England, why not try to see the actual thing?? So I decided, kind of last minute, to camp out in front of Westminster the night before. Carolyn was kind enough to accompany me, so we set out with our comforters in hand to find a place to camp.
When we got to Westminster it was packed full of people. Tents and sleeping bags were crammed against police barriers and there was hardly space to move. We walked along the sidewalk near the camping area that was directly in front of the church doors. Right behind the barrier, in front of all the tents that were set up, was a small area just big enough for two people to fit. Perfect for us! We climbed over the barrier, set our stuff down, and that was when the shouting started. "Oy, you need to get out of here!" A voice behind us called. I turned around to see the speaker, a middle aged woman in a pink tweed skirt and blazer, a cheap looking hat on her head. I guess she was dressed up for the occasion, it was kind of sad really. She was poking her head out of a nearby tent, and she did not look friendly. Other shouts started coming from different directions,
"We don't want you here!"
"We've been waiting here four days!"
"You girls better get out!" People all around us began harassing us, even though we weren't anywhere near their campsites. I put my hands on my hips,
"Well why should we go? We're going to stay right here!" I was met with a roar of protest.
"Listen girls, you need to get out," a man with a beer can advised us. "We've been waiting here for days, and there is not space for you here." I was unconvinced.
"I'm not going anywhere," I replied. The woman in the ugly, pink tweed was leaning further out of her tent and continuing to shout insults, she looked as though she would attempt violence if she got any closer. Snappy responses did not seem to be helping my case, so I tried another tactic. I pouted my lips, and batted my eyes a little at the woman in pink. "Do we reeeally have to go?" I pleaded.
"Don't you play sweet with me! Get out of here!" She yelled. Darn, That usually works! A woman in a police hat came over and tried to convince to go. If the police were going to get involved, I figured I should surrender. I didn't realize until later that she wasn't actually a police officer. We defeatedly climbed back to the other side of the barrier and began looking for another spot. As we left, everyone cheered and clapped. I have never felt so hated in my entire life! This was human nature at its worst. These people were animals, reduced to their most crude and primitive forms. None of these people were young either, so they had no excuse for their behavior. It is shameful to see adults behaving so badly.
We found another spot with an ok view. We were next to a drunk old man and an older couple. Camera crews with bright lights and smiling hosts were interspersed throughout the crowd. The old man began a conversation with us. His speech was slurred and his eyes were red and watering, but he seemed harmless enough. The woman from the couple next to us was at least in her forties and completely smashed. Whenever a camera approached our area, she would pull these four, ratty teddy bears from a dirty, plastic bag and thrust them in front of the camera. "My doogles!" She'd shout. A group of people singing and dancing were being filmed. The woman jumped in front of them with her four "doogles". "Maybe it's because I'm a Londoner!" She sang, waving the bears in front of the camera.
Carolyn wanted to go back to the house for a little bit to charge her camera. So I was left with the company of the old man. He was kind enough to offer me his blanket, since he wasn't staying the whole night. When he left, I tried to get some sleep. I woke up when Carolyn returned. We heard that the police were going to move the barriers, so we might have to find a new spot. We tried to sleep, but I ended up staying awake, in case the barriers were moved sooner than expected. Around 4 in the morning, people around us started stirring. We got up and moved to the street corner to see what was going on. The police had begun to move people around. The street corner was quite crowed, but we decided to stay and hopefully we wouldn't get moved. An officer stood nearby, trying to keep a foot path clear. "Officer! These girls just got here! They can't stay!" A woman was pointing at us.
"Here we go again," I thought to myself.
"Sorry ma'am, that's not my problem," The officer replied. Victory! But not for long. The police ended up moving us since we were actually on a traffic island, not a street corner. We found a new spot across the street, where we could only see a little, but at least we wouldn't be moved again. Finally settled, we fell asleep against the barrier.
I was awakened from some confused dream by a hand on my knee. I groggily opened my eyes to see a giant, black camera in my face. "Good morning sunshine!" A newscaster chirped sweetly.
"Oh dear. This is awkward," I thought. After spending the night outdoors and getting only a half hour of sleep or so, this was not my best moment to be on camera.
"Did you dream about Prince William?" The newscaster asked in a sugary voice. No, I had not. I dreamed something, but it definitely was not about Prince William. As much of a romantic as I am, I could not bring myself to tell her yes, which is was what she obviously wanted to hear.
"Uhh..." I said, stalling.
"I did," Carolyn jumped in, saving me. "I dreamed that he married me instead!" The newscaster was delighted to get the response she was looking for and I was delighted to be off the hook. When they finished filming, she introduced herself.
"Hello, I'm Sylvia. Sorry I couldn't explain before, we were filming for live Swiss National News." So lucky Switzerland was graced with my tired visage on their televisions. Wonderful.
After hours of waiting, things finally started to happen. Fancy cars with tinted windows began pulling up to the church. Guests in their in their suits, dresses, and hats began to make their way inside. "I wonder if Elton John is here yet," Carolyn sighed. People began to buzz that Prince William was going to arrive soon. A silver minivan drove by us, and there was Prince William in the back seat! It was so cool! As he arrived people cheered and the church bells began to ring. They didn't stop until Kate arrived. We couldn't see her, unfortunately, but we knew when she arrived by the cheer the crowd let out. Once she was in the church people hushed and we listened to the ceremony over the loud speakers.
When it was over, we made our way back home. It was amazing to be part of such an important event and at least informative, if not pleasant, to see the way group thinking can turn people into monsters. Now I will stop writing, because this is long, and I want to go eat dinner. See ya!

To Paris and back again!

I am torn. I would love to be more consistent about this blog thing, but I hate being tied to my computer!! So please deal with my sporadic posts.

Anyhoo...where did we leave off? Ah yes, I was telling you about my classes. Well, I'm just going to skip to the interesting part and tell you about Paris.
I decided I would go to Paris by myself for two and a half days. The haterz told me I couldn't do it, that I would wind up raped or dead. Well haterz gon' hate, so you just gotta do yo' thang anyways (alright, I'll stop writing like that, it's a little embarrassing). I left the house at 6:45 in the morning, took the tube, and then walked to the bus station. I did not realize until I was on my way that I would be taking a bus and not a train to Paris, it didn't occur to me that a bus could make it over the channel. Obviously, there are methods. I was in line to check in and then I realized I didn't have my passport. So, I grabbed a taxi and went all the way back to Manson Place and then back to the station. Thank God, I made it just in time.
The bus ride was rather uneventful. I met a girl named Bara from the Czech Republic, and she was pretty cool. We were going to try to meet up in Paris, but it didn't work out. To cross the channel, the bus drove onto a train, and the train went through the Channel Tunnel. It was a very strange experience.
We arrived in Paris around 4:30. I took the metro to my hostel and got there without a hitch. But when I got off the train, I was met with an unpleasant surprise. I was in a really sketchy area of town. Ticket scalpers were harassing metro passengers. Men were selling bootleg copies of "Rango" on street corners. There was a girl begging on all fours, her legs were backwards and so she crawled on her hands and feet, pushing a jangling cup of coins ahead of her. In the midst of all this was my hostel, called "Friends". I dropped my stuff off in my room and got out of there as fast as I could. If this was Paris, I did not like it. I hated myself for not loving it at first sight. I had dreamed about going to Paris for years, and this was no dream land.
I ended up wandering around Montmatre, which was pretty close by. I saw Sacre Coeur at sunset, and I explored the twisting cobbled streets. Maybe I would like Paris after all.

I got back to the room at 10:30 or so. I brushed my teeth, put my pjs on, and was about to crawl into bed, when the girls I was going to be sharing the room with came back. They had messed up their booking and wanted to know if I would switch with their friend so that they could all be together. They were the kind of nasty party girls I thought only existed in high school, perhaps reminiscent of Mean Girls.

I didn't think switching would be a problem, and I didn't really want to stay with them, so I said yes. I sorely regretted my decision when I saw the people I would be sharing with. There were these two shady guys, smoking cigarettes and clouding the small room with smoke. One of them began rolling a joint and proceeded to smoke it. I could not breathe and was hiding beneath my covers freaking out like any fussy singer would. Another guy came back completely smashed and a couple followed soon after. They all wanted to smoke, and I wanted to get out of there. I gathered my things and went to ask at the desk if there were any other rooms. There weren't, so I sadly retreated back to the room. It was one of the most unpleasant nights of my life.
I woke up really early after three hours of sleep. I was in Saint Michel looking for a cafe to eat breakfast, when three men approached me. They insisted I looked just like their friend from Germany. They asked me if I was a singer, I said yes, feeling confused. "What a coincidence!" they said, "We're producers!"This was getting sketchier by the minute. They wanted to have coffee with me, to "talk business". I wanted free breakfast, so I said yes. We were in a public place, so I figured I was safe enough. It was a good opportunity to work on my french. They produced house music. They wanted me to come back to Paris so that I could sing for them and they could turn it into a song or something weird. It was sketchy, but my espresso and pain au chocolat were good. I weaseled my way out and proceeded to Notre Dame.
Notre Dame was gorgeous. It was so huge, it's incredible to think that people built that.

Next, I walked to the Luxembourg gardens! Being the Les Mis nerd I am, I was geeking out! The gardens were absolutely beautiful, just like I imagined them. I wandered through the entire garden looking for "the spot". I narrowed it down to one of two places. Here they are:

After Luxembourg, I went to the catacombs. While I was waiting in line, some kid puked and it splashed all over. Gross. But I felt bad for him. The catacombs were super freaky. The ceiling dripped, and dim lights illuminated the narrow passageways. Skulls, femurs, and tibias lined the walls in decorative patterns. There were a lot of dead people down there man, creepy.

I saw Victor Hugo's house. More cause for Les Mis geek-outage!

I saw the Louvre and the Tuileries, then I walked along the Seine. I was minding my own business, but some creep started following me and insisting that I "go drink something" with him. Throughly freaked out, I ran away and explored the Champs d'Elysees. I had dinner in this little restaurant that took me ages to find. Here's what I ate:

After dinner, I saw l'Arc de Triumph and the Eiffel Tower.

I made it back to the room (my actual room!) around midnight. I had been on my feet since around 8 in the morning, so I was beat! (sorry this is getting listy, I want to get it over with!)
The next day, I went back to the Tuileries, and then I had the BEST cup of hot chocolate I have ever had. It was at this tea shop called Angelina. It was like drinking a Hershey bar, in other words, AMAZING! (and I am not even a chocolate person!)

When I got back to London, it felt like coming home! Paris was great but it was tiring! The trip had a rough start, but I was completely won over in the end. I learned a lot about myself, since I was stuck with only myself for those days. I was able to make plans, find a place to stay, navigate, and speak French in a foreign country. I am capable! I'm feeling a little more adult, and not in the stuffy anti Peter Pan way. Maybe growing up is a good thing!

of art, shakespeare, and crossing the street

So crossing the street here is really hard, and I am not joking. I will turn my head to the opposite way I need to be looking and so I am met with honking horns and swerving cars. Hopefully I will get it down soon so that I make it back to the states alive...

We saw "Children's Hour" with all of these famous people in it (I don't feel like listing them). It was an awesome production. But it was kind of funny because their American accents were not very good, especially Keira Knightley's. She would slip in and out of it and it messed with her acting. But when you're Keira Knightley, I guess those things don't matter as much. Even though there were all these famous people in the cast, the best part of the show was the woman who played Mary. Supposedly she is 26, but she was totally convincing as little girl. We waited at the stage door to get autographs and stuff. Keira Knightley ended up writing half her autograph on my King Lear book, whoops...

We did some sight seeing, and I am not going to talk about that, because everyone has been a tourist and knows how those things go. I've been trying to cook, and it is hard living on your own and buying all your own food. So far I have cooked chicken, pasta, and frittatas. Things have gone well so far, I guess. Here are some pics!

 chicken with rice and beans in garlic

veggie and cheese frittata!

this is a really terrible pic of Keira Knightley, but it's the best I've got!

We've just started classes this week. My art history class is great! We go to museums and sit down in front of paintings and discuss them, fabulous! Shakespeare is Shakespeare and so therefore it is awesome. My voice teacher is really cool and I think she really knows her stuff. That's all I feel like writing and I don't feel like making it fancy because I am tired and want to go to bed. So, goodnight!

Chapter 1: Welcome to Europe, Loser

I could feel real adventure at the tips of my fingers. Finally, I would be free from my very predictable life. Finally, maybe I could have adventures like the ones I had read about in so many novels. I watched the sun rise from the plane window over England, and call me a cheese ball, but I had tears in my eyes. Here was the place where so many of my favorite characters had lived and adventured: Elizabeth Bennet, the Pevensie children, Ransom, and of course Harry Potter himself:)

When the plane landed, the first thing that I noticed was the silence. As we got off the plane, a hush settled over all the passengers. As we waited in line for customs, there was no music playing, there were no ads playing on TV screens, no announcements on loudspeakers, no shouting or calling out. If this was the European way, my distinctive giggle and I were not going to fit in...
Ally and I made our way to the tube station and got on the Piccadilly line. The train quickly filled with passengers, mostly people on their way to work. People crammed into every possible available space on the train. Ally and I could no longer stand next to each other as they continued to file in. As we neared our stop, Ally mouthed to me, "Next stop". I thought she meant South Kensington, which was a stop after Gloucester, which we were approaching. When we reached Gloucester, she began to get off and I realized that sadly, she did not mean South Kensington. But it was too late. 
"Excuse me!" I shouted, but no one was moving out of the way. 
"Sorry, the doors are closing," someone replied, half heartedly. But the doors were totally not closing! Even though, by the time he had finished saying that they were, of course, closing. As I watched the doors slide close, I thought to myself, "Welcome to Europe..."
So there I was, in a foreign country for the first time, alone, and without a cell phone. I stayed on the train for one more stop, and then tried to go back to see if Ally was waiting for me. As I reached the other side of the platform, I saw a man with a purple bag try to squeeze into the train at the last minute. Unfortunately, he was a little too late and the train was a little too full. His arm was caught in the door, the purple bag dangling from his wrist. Also caught in the door, was his nose. The man winced, and I tried to look away to save him from further embarrassment, but I was riveted. He managed to squeeze his nose from out of the door, and tried to act as if it were perfectly normal to have your arm wedged between two doors, your purple briefcase gently swinging side to side on your wrist. I gave him a knowing look and continued my search for Ally, who I did not find. I even had her name announced on the loud speakers, but she did not show up. I decided to continue to the hotel and hope she was there.
The first thing I saw when I stepped out of the train station was a KFC and a Starbucks, not exactly what I expected on my first visit out of the U.S. I tried to cross the street and quickly jumped back to the side walk as a cab swerved right in front of me. The cars were driving on the wrong side of the road, the stoplights did not make sense, and there were no street signs where they were supposed to be. I eventually figured out how to make it across and continued on with my suitcases and backpack toward the hotel. I did not realize that the street signs were placed on the sides of buildings, rather than on poles, so I ended up missing my street. I walked all the way to Harrods and back (which is quite away!) before I finally found my street. I dragged my bags up the stairs and inside, panting and sweating, just as Ally was coming down to look for me. Finally, I made it!

We took a nap and then began exploring the city. We ended up walking quite a way and I was completely exhausted. On our way back, we were stopped by a volunteer for the red cross. His name was Anthony. When he realized that Ally and I were only visitors, he still continued to talk to us. He told me I reminded him of Solange, which seems a little far fetched to me..."See you later, Solange!" He called out as we left. Weird, but Ally and I both agreed that we had never been hit on in a more pleasant way.
That night, we both woke up in the night around 2am, hello jet lag! We ended up eating nectarines and listening to David Sedaris before we finally fell asleep again.
The next day, we continued sightseeing. We had a traditional english breakfast at a pub which was pretty good. You pretty much take a bunch of stuff and put it on toast. 

 We saw Marble Arch, Piccadilly Circus, and Buckingham Palace. For lunch, we stopped in Shepherds Market. We had a delicious three course meal for only ten pounds. We began with a soup, I'm not sure what exactly was in it (shame on me:( ) but it was good!

Then we had a lamb hot pie, which was pretty much just shepherds pie. It was amazing! You know that part in Julie and Julia, where Julie says, "Is there anything better than butter? Think it over, any time you taste something that's delicious beyond imagining and you say 'what's in this?' the answer is always going to be butter." There was this extra something in the pie, something that just made it that much more delicious, and that something was butter.

We finished with a blackberry and apple crumble. That special butter element was in this too, and it was to die for! Even though I burned my mouth a few times trying to scarf it down too quickly, ouch!

While we enjoyed the food, we also enjoyed the view as well. There were so many well dressed guys there! We were both stunned. We had never seen so many good looking, well dressed, people of the male persuasion at one time!
The next day, we moved into our quad. It's beautiful--large windows, high ceilings, new furniture, and our very own bathroom! or I guess WC as the Brits say...definitely don't want to come back to LU after all this;) 
Later, we were doing some shopping on High Street. There is the best store ever called Argos. You pick the items you wish to purchase out of a catalog and then you tell the clerk and then the items just appear on this conveyor belt and you take them. The best part is that everything is unbelievably cheap! We got a hair dryer for 3.97, my kind of place:) As we were walking back, who should we see but our mate from the red cross Anthony! "It's Solange!" he said to me, and he shook both our hands. He introduced us to his friends. One of them tried to do an American accent for us. It was pretty good, if he was gay and from the deep south...I tried out my British accent on him, and apparently it would not pass! This was a most distressing realization as I always thought my British accent was halfway decent. I have since vowed to perfect my accent before my stay in London is over. 
Gosh this is really long! Good for you if you read it all the way! My next one will be shorter promise! I have internet now so I can write a little each day. Yup...so that's it...for now...:)