Foto della Settimana di Moda

Thank you Maried Rivera for your amazing photography skills!

The Bad

Frankie Morello's tent

Timer shots in the park before Roberto Cavalli's show

Roberto Cavalli's tent

The Blonde Salad's Chiara Ferragni

Baci xx

Settimana di moda

So I just got back from the best day ever. Milan. Fashion. Week. Yes, I said day and then wrote week but that's because I just went for the day. It was better than Christmas, my birthday and Petey's birthday combined.  Well, that could be an exaggeration. But whatever.  It was amazing. Maried and I spent the day stalking out shows and celebs and fulfilling dreams that we never knew we had.  Maried got to become the paparazzi that she has always wanted to be and I got to be a diva all day.  Mission accomplished.  But lets start at the beginning. I woke up late (big surprise) and didn't get to do my hair for fashion week (tear).  Then we slept on the train and woke up in the middle of fashion week. There were tents in Piazza del Duomo and Parco Sempione.  We went to Frankie Morello's show and Roberto Cavalli's show.  By "went" I mean stood outside and stared at all the amazing fashionistas while they gazed right back at us.

gafwtrsrduyzfua7  <------ this is Enrico bothering me because he is very very very very very drunk lol (his words, including "lol")

Back to more important things. Fashion. Maried and I looked good. I mean, we knew this, but it was proven when a photographer stopped, turned around and came back to take pictures of Maried when we were sitting in a caffè.  Literally, he snapped about 15 pictures, said "grazie" and walked away.  Then Maried completely embarrassed me when we showed up to the Roberto Cavalli tent. She started taking pictures of me and 4 other paparazzi came over and started snapping pictures too, talking about my outfit right in front of me like I couldn't hear them.  Look for us on fashion blogs. We will be the main features. I mean, there should always be photographers following us all the time because we just hop right out of bed looking like we did today.  Please. However, I did get to see my fashion/blog idol, Chiara Ferragni. I immediately freaked out and was like "OMG! It's her! Maried take a picture!" while trying to not make it obvious that I was geeking out about 50 yards away from her. I never knew what my reaction would be to seeing an up-and-coming-internet-fashion-blogger but that was it. Imagine if I had seen someone really famous?  Oh wait, I did.  Kelly Roland. No big deal. I didn't have time to react to this because she was sprinting through the piazza being chased by every paparazzi there (including Maried) trying to get into the tent.  Intense. 

Besides us, there were the most amazing outfits and some not so amazing outfits walking around Milan. I don't know if it was because of fashion week or if everyone always dresses like this in Milan but I need to move there. I have been there twice before but never saw Milan like I did today.  Now I understand why my roommates always tell me that Milan is the most beautiful city in Italy.  Because of fashion week. (photos to come).

Baci xx

I am being sentimental

Things I will NOT miss in Bologna/Italy

1. People walking slow on the street doing giros (sometimes I have to pee!)
2. Grocery stores closing at 8:00pm
3. Dog poop on the street
4. One bathroom for 11 people
5. Sharing a room
6. Living in a "frat house"

Things I will miss in Bologna/Italy

1. My friends and family
2. Giros
3. Walking under portici in the rain or to get out of the sun (I am pale okay?!)
4. Osteria dell'orsa, oil, fresh veggies and fruit, pasta, appertivi, food, food, food
5. Delirio
6. Italian language
7. Being late for everything and it being okay
8. VINO!
9. Living in a "frat house"

Things I can't wait for in the good old USA!

1. Peanut butter
2. Starbucks
3. Oreos
4. Family
5. Yellow cheddar cheese
6. PETEY!!!!!!!!!

 

 

 

Baci xx

Auguri Brando!

I was invited to Brando's birthday party the other day.  It was a big one. I mean, COME ON! He was turning SEVEN!  God that makes me feel old.  He had it at the creative learning center in Bologna in Piazza Maggiore.  The room was filled with learning games for children and adults too.  But basically all the kids wanted to do was run around playing tag and could have cared less about the games they were supposed to be doing to expand their minds. I basically sat with the moms and grandmas and just chatted.  I did play a little with the kids but I can only take so much of screaming, sweating seven-year-olds. I was talking to one boy though in Italian and one of his friends walked up.  They recognized me from the International School and Brando was very proud to tell them all he had an American tutor who he got to hang out with. The friend who walked up was so adorable and firmly told his friend "She is from school.  We have to talk to her in English!"  It's a strict rule at the school and since I worked there, they thought that it still applied. Adorable. Brando's party was something that I never thought I would do while studying abroad and it the end it was a really fun afternoon. Not sure if I could handle it again though...

The leader trying to get the kids to learn.

Valentino, Brando and a friend

Rocco, Brando's little brother, and his girlfriend

Tanti Auguri a te! Alessia, Brando's mom, and Brando.

Rocco opening Brando's presents.

A very happy seven-year-old!

Baci xx

Italy 1 - Ellen 0

It's official. I am no longer a vegetarian.  Some of my friends have been trying for years to get me to eat meat.  After I caught onto this, I avoided any food that they offered me at all costs. "Here Ellen, I made you a lettuce wrap..." Which, in reality, was actually just a piece of lettuce wrapped around a slice of turkey or roast beef.  I don't know which one (Remember? I used to be a vegetarian).  While it is nearly impossible not to eat meat in Italy, especially Bologna where its most famous dish is ragù, I have managed just fine. Until last night. Romina, Maried and I decided to order Spaccanapoli, our favorite pizza place that delivers (yes, delievery exists here).  I obviously ordered 4 formaggi to make up for the fact that Maried doesn't eat cheese.  Well Spaccanapoli ha sbagliato (they messed up) and secretly put meat on my 4 formaggi, the LAST place I would expect to find meat.  While eating the second to last piece I bit into meat.  After freaking out and crying calmly asking my roommates what it was, Mallory and Augusto confirmed my worst nightmare: meat. Could my friends from home have possibly known that I ordered a pizza and called Italy and changed my order just to mess with me? I wouldn't put it pass them.  As I began to hyperventilate, my roommate Rodolfo yelled from the kitchen "A little meat is good for you Ellen!" Yeah, sure, whatever. I am going back to being a vegetarian.  You won this time Italy, but I have my eye on you...

Baci xx

Italy has got America beat on this one....

Italy wins! I cannot tell you how many of my friends have tried to walk-through a drive-through window at a fast food restaurant and were told that they had to go inside to order. DENIED! It is even on a list of things that Baby Kelly has to do before she graduates: walk-through a drive-through. (How is that going?) Well here you go. Italy has completely removed that problem by installing a walk-though window directly on the sidewalk.  No need to walk 30ft around the corner and go inside!  That would be too hard! Just order on the sidewalk!  And plus, making people go inside would eliminate the masses you have to walk through if you are simply trying to walk by McDonalds without ordering. Too easy.  Instead, like everything Italian, they want to clog the sidewalks with lines, people giro-ing, and stopping in the middle of the street to just stand. Do you want fries with that?

Just some of my roommates stopping for a midnight snack.

Win!

Note: those glasses have no lenses.

Baci xx

Famiglia

The most important thing in life is your family.  There are days you love them, and others you don't, but in the end, they are the people you always come home to.  Sometimes it's the family you are born into and sometimes its the one you make for yourself.

Someone really important once said this to me.  Okay, important is a relative term. Carrie Bradshaw said this once in Sex & the City.  But she had a point. Family one of the most important things in life, if not the most.  I miss mine more than I ever thought I could but I have managed to get by by creating one of my own here. This past weekend, I was in need of family so I went to Carassai to spend the weekend with my roommate Enrico and the family I have created there.  It felt like I was "going home" for the weekend from college.  Nothing really amazing happened this weekend but it was one of the best weekends I have had in Italy. Basically, we hung out, went out and relaxed.  I played with Dodo (Enrico's dog), helped Enrico's little brother Rocco with his homework, had family dinners, watched some TV and read some of my book.  I also made chocolate chip cookies with Cinzia, Enrico's mom.  I love being in Carassai.  Its a small town and I feel like I know everyone there and they all know me.  When I walked into the bar, the bartender greeted me by name and a kiss, all of my roommates friends were happy to see me there and I even bumped into a few people on my way to pick up Rocco from school who were just as happy to see! I feel like I have created a family here to fill the void of leaving mine at home.  In Bologna I have another family that I made that includes my roommates, my directors, the family I tutor for and my closest friends.  Its nice running into people on the street and stopping to say hi or being recognized by the owners of the stores I shop at.  While this might sound like a fairytale, its real.  I mean, don't get me wrong, I still have my moments just like at home when I want to strangle one of my roommates or just need a break from a friend but that's expected with family.  But overall, I wouldn't change a thing about any of the families that I am a part of.  Each is just perfect the way it is.

Carassai, Italia

Some boys from my Italian family.

The view from Enrico's bedroom.

Judgement Day

About a month ago our world was turned upside down: the "semester" kids arrived in Bologna.  We knew the day would come when we would have to give up some of our precious office space and have to share the streets of Bologna and Piazza Maggiore with the newbies, as we like to call them.  Let me explain something to you.  There is a huge difference between "year-long" study abroad students and "semester" study abroad students.  The "year-long" students are here in Bologna to learn the language and become part of the culture.  "Semester" students are here to travel, drink and live up to every American stereotype that has ever been made, believing that their semester abroad is a six month extended vacation.  So far, the newbies are not disappointing us. 

Our directors organized a welcome dinner at the same restaurant where we had our welcome dinner when we first arrived.  They also warned us that every year there is a huge divide between the "year-long" and "semester" students.  There was a lot of protest when this comment was made, "Oh no, we wan to meet them!", "I bet it won't be like that this year!", "But I am friends with some of the people coming." I immediately decided not to be their friend.  I also decided that I needed to look as Italian as possible for this dinner, so naturally I bought a new pair of boots.

The days leading up to the dinner were torture. Rumors floated around that these newbies were cool and that there was a possibility of assigned seating.  Obviously, my friends and I got together before the dinner for a little drink to take the edge off. We made predictions of what the new kids were going to be like, look like and talk like.  We also made a pact to not be their friends. (We are really accepting of change and new things).  We arrived fashionably late for dinner and were faced with the reality of assigned seating.  Someone must have known that Maried and I could not have survived this dinner without the support of each other, because we were seated across from each other.  The only good thing about this dinner was the food.  We had built up this dinner so much that it flew by.  After enduring 3 hours of fake conversation, a bathroom pow-wow and a broken wine glass, we made it out alive. 

Since then, I haven't seen a newbie.  I have avoided the office where I used to sit and check my Facebook and email between classes.  No longer is it a safe place.  The newbies have adopted it as their own.  Apparently, they have been tearing through Bologna, leaving drama and destruction in their wake.  But who knows? Maybe they will settle down and really dive head first into Italian culture.  Or maybe they will just take trips every weekend and leave us be in our precious little city. We can dream can't we?

Note: I fully acknowledge that I was once a "semester" study abroad student.  But now, I am much older and mature and saw the error in my ways. I only hope that I can be forgiven one day. Nah, I had a blast!!!!

Baci xx

L'esame orale

Today I took my final final exam for the first semester.  Yes, I know, its February.  Most of you have been finished since December or years for that matter.  The Italian system is a little different, all majors take finals at different times, you have 3 times to get it right, and you have 1-3 months to study for them after the semester classes end.  Strano!  Anyways, I took my exam for Letteratura Italiana.  I sat through 60 hours of Italian babble, wrote a 12-page paper in Italian on Dante's Inferno, and read 4 other books by Italian authors including Svevo, D'Annunzio, and Machiavelli.  I still managed pulled an all-nighter studying, even though I had over a month to prepare.  Its just what we Americans do for exams, right?  I was a little frazzled this morning to say the least.  Mallory and I walked to where we were going to take our exam, 45 minutes early, and when we got there the door to the building was locked shut.  Immediately, due to lack of sleep and sanity, we started laughing uncontrollably. We started shouting "NO EXAM! NO EXAM!" No, we still had an exam, we are just idiots. We went to the wrong door.  I wondered if this was a precursor to what my exam was going to be. Then we waited outside my professor's closed office door until he ushered us inside.  He went over our papers with us, pointing out errors and asking us questions.  He then drilled us on specifics of the books we had read: characters, locations, time periods, similarities between them and the main themes.  He really made sure we had read the books.  After about an hour of this, I ran out of his office with a huge smile on my face and a 27 marked on my Italian transcript.  No, not out of 100, but a 30.  I know, again, the Italians do things very strangely. Mallory and I celebrated by treating ourselves to breakfast at a little outdoor caffè. Afterward, we met up with Maried who had also just rocked her final exam and took a relaxing giro around Bologna because WE DIDN'T HAVE TO STUDY ANYMORE!!! Bring on the second semester!

The door to the wrong building.

Where judgment awaited us...

WE PASSED!

Apparently we went to Mexico to get breakfast?

My future vespa.

A pharmacy by my house.

 

Baci xx

I got picked up by a polizotto.

I am not lying.  I got picked up by a police officer yesterday.  Not picked up in the sense that he asked for my number but picked up as in got a ride from him.  I was on my way to tutor and I got a call from the women I tutor for saying that she was sick and that her friend would be picking me up where we usually meet.  She explained that the friend knew me and would be there when I got there. I had met a few of her friends before so I wasn't that worried.  After I hopped of the bus, I rounded the corner where I usually meet the family.  There was only a police car there.  Great, I thought,  now I get to stand on the corner waiting for the friend, looking and feeling like a stripper working the corner while a police officer watches me do it.  I also remembered that I hadn't brought any ID or my passport that day.  As I was trying to figure out how to explain to the police officer that I was legally allowed to be in Italy, I heard my name.  The police officer had gotten out of the car and as I turned to see who called me, I realized it was him.  "Ellen! Lets go!" he yelled as he got back into his squad car.  I was so confused, but I started over anyways and jumped into the car.  This should be interesting......

Turns out that I had met him before, just in street clothes.  Did I mention that he is hot?  Police officers in Italy aren't like the police officers roaming around the streets of Hinsdale.  I poliziotti are the same as any other Italian men, fashionable.  My poliziotto had thoughtfully accessorized his uniform with a matching scarf and a pair of Rayban aviator sunglasses. Police officers like him can be seen giro-ing through Piazza Maggiore and Via Independenza all the time.  Its not just a job for them, its a fashion statement. I totally support their decisions.

Anyways, he had a few minutes free and offered to pick me up so Alessia, the mom, wouldn't have to leave her house while she was sick.  Alessia had told him that I played soccer and we chatted about that.  He was born and raised in Bologna so he was "tifoso" per Bologna (a fan of Bologna's soccer team).  I told him that I had been to a game in Torino and that Italian fans were crazy and he immediately agreed.  He said that his friends and him go to all the games here in Bologna but have to hide their faces in their scarves during the games because if people recognized their faces at the games and saw what they did at the games, they would get fired.  Doesn't that make you feel safe?  I guess its a little conforting knowing that the people who are screaming at the refs, blowing fog horns and setting off flare guns at the game know what they are doing.  I felt especially safe in his squad car when he switched gears and kept hitting his gun in its holster with the stick. Don't worry though, I made it to tutoring!

See what I mean?

My ride!

 

This is what a Bologna soccer game looks like.

Baci xx

Voui un SAMMIE!?

So I have been stuck in a routine of eating pasta and pizza for lunch and dinner almost everyday.  I know, big suprise, I am in Italy, where most of you would die to try a real slice of pizza or authentic ragu.  Well, I am over it! For today. Tomorrow I will be craving pizza, no worries.  Anyways, there is this place that we always go to and get sandwiches (Osteria dell'Orsa) and Maried and I tried to create them on our own.  Here are the ingredients:

Muchrooms sauteed in balsamic vinaigrette and wine

Ham, brie, bread and some sauce Maried picked up.

 Here are the final products:

We drank the wine we didn't use, don't worry, we are poor, we don't let things go to waste.

Perfection.  That's all I can say.  The sammies were amazing, maybe even better then Osteria? Okay, now I am just letting this get to my head.  Nothing is better than Osteria.  My roommates were so curious about what we were eating that we explained to them that Americans eat "sammies" all the time. Sidenote: The name "sammie" originated in Champaign, Illinois at 405 E. Stoughton Apt#32.  This apartment was were all sandwich dreams came true. They were so good (think guacamole, swiss cheeses, and dijon mustard) that they deserved their own name.  Thus, "sammies" were born. End sidenote. While we were savoring our amazing sammies, Rodolfo managed to eat an entire plate of yellow rice that looked like paella and Enrico ate a plate of some meat, my favorite.

5 minutes after this picture was taken, the rice was all gone. He informed us
that he could have done better if he hadn't been talking the entire time. Buona Rodolfo!

I don't even know what kind of meat this is.

Complete satisfaction.

 Baci xx