FALL BREAK!! A world beyond Tuscany.

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PISA!
DUBLIN!
AIRPORTS!
RAIN!
ADVENTURE!
MUSIC!
LOIS!

Just thought I'd try a slam approach to the blog entry. Not working? Okay fine, back to the boring way...

November 1st, Sometime Reasonably Early in the Morning
The train has arrived! I'm here! I'm here in Pisa and I'm finally going to see the Tower and--!!!....
Rain. So very, very much rain.
That's okay! I'm still excited and happy and barely able to contain my smile because honestly when was I ever able to force a straight face anyways, and hey look I know where I'm going, it should be about a 10 minute walk and then I'm there, and --whoops, I think that guy thought I was smiling at him, haha oh well, anyways just 10 minutes till I get to the piazza and then -- hold on, is that him again? Did he just turn around and start walking by me again? Wait, no, wait he's-- he's stopping, he did the dramatic turn-around, oh god, why did I have to be smiling when he passed me, now he's coming toward me and--
"Hi. What's your name?" I am suddenly staring at his big, unbrushed, Italian teeth. What have you gotten yourself into [b[again, Alyssa...
"I'm Alyssa." I smile politely.
"My name's Luigi. Where are you from? When I passed you before, I just had to come back and talk to you. You're beautiful." Oh, thanks, heh, mumble mumble... American, mumble... "Have you ever been to Pisa before?" No. "Can I walk with you?" Well, I mean, I'm just going to Piazza dei Miracoli, I know where I'm--
There was no hope. I couldn't even get the words out before he had put his arm around my shoulders and begun to walk me through the streets of Pisa.
Mental checkpoint: Learn how to be mean to strangers.
We walked. It began to really downpour, so Luigi snuggled in closer to me under the umbrella (that sly dog). We're walking the general direction to the Piazza, and then he suddenly starts walking me down this side road. Where are we going? "Come on, down here for a minute, just to get out of the rain," he says.
Soon I'm standing in the entrance of an empty parking garage. By this point, Luigi has already briefed me with all the necessary information, ie, that he really had a thing for foreign girls, that he is an engineer, and that he is 22, and since I am 21, we are both really great for each other. Having been thus conditioned, I found myself staring at that yellow, dirty mouth* again, which at this point was doing that anticipatory twitching that usually means the person is either A. about to audition for an acapella group, or B. is thinking about kissing you. (*He should have cleaned it up with Orbit.)
"Alyssa." Yes, Luigi? "So. I saw you back there, and I turned around because I really liked you. I really like you a lot. And you like me too, right? And you're 21, and I'm 22, and when two young people get together, it should be hot, you know? We need to enjoy our youth, live in the moment, let ourselves feel good... So here's what I'm thinking. You be my girlfriend. I'll come visit you in Siena, you can come to Pisa, and we can go to many hotels. Okay?"
(Oh, you poor, poor man.) No. (Just, no.)
"Can I kiss you?" Twitch, twitch, went the lips.
Sorry Luigi. I'm not interested. We don't even know each other. (And your mouth makes me think of roadkill.) I smile politely again.
He laughs. "Ahaha! But you are stubborn! I like that. Come here, give me a kiss."
Hahahaha, umm.... No.
He laughs again. This goes on for awhile, until I begin to walk away. He catches up to me, and tells me "Haha no, don't worry, I was kidding, kidding, come on, let's go see the Tower."
For two hours, I tried to ditch him, but every time I began to leave, I heard his voice behind me: "Alyssa, come here, please! You're going to leave me in the rain alone, without an umbrella?" (Goddammit, I'd feel like an ass letting him get drenched... ) I always had to go back. I'm a sucker. And I paid for it, too. My trip to visit the Piazza dei Miracoli ended up being "Stand under the trees with Luigi and yell at him while he laughs and tries to kiss me and get me to go to a hotel with him." I cannot even count the number of times he tried. And he was so sneaky about it, too! He'd talk really fast in Italian, so that I couldn't catch his words right away, and try to be all nonchalant. "Okay so, we can either go get some lunch and then go to a hotel, or we can just go right to the hotel." And when I reacted and/or started to leave, he would laugh, "No no no I'm just kidding Alyssa, jeesh relax, come on let's go to the hotel."
Do other American girls actually give in to this? Do I look like a whore? In retrospect, maybe I shouldn't have taped that "For a good time" flyer to my chest.

Fast forward to the evening, sans Luigi. This was when I discovered that my backpack is not, in fact, waterproof, and consequently, every single article of clothing in my possession was soaking wet.
Guess who slept in wet pajamas? THIS KID.
Luckily, for every action there's an equal and opposite reaction. So my encounter with Luigi was tempered with two new hostel friends, Jane of Limerick, Ireland, and Althea of Holland. Jane is a cross between a hobbit, an awkward turtle, and a leprechaun. Althea is of Asian descent, and she showed me a slideshow of her thousands of photos. (See? It may have been controversial, but it is truer than true, if today you are you.) Similarly, karma made amends for my sopping luggage by giving me a really great, hot, Italian dinner at a nearby restaurant, accompanied by my new friends and my late-in-arriving Siena School buddy, Devin.
After dinner and having my ear talked off by Jane, I went to bed damp, and began my adventure to Dublin the next morning.

Dublin. Holy freaking crap, Dublin. You should've seen me when I first arrived. I was grinning like the cheshire cat. people must've thought i was nuts, walking around the streets smiling at everyone, like i was about to burst into song and dance and turn the whole world into a musical. i think i even laughed to myself a few times. it was crazy though! i don't think i can properly explain it. the architecture is just flat-out Irish. I've been living amidst american architecture for 21 years, and italian architecture for 4 months, and then i plopped myself right in the center of 13th century nordic/irish history. it was unmistakably irish. and it's funny, it reminded me a whole freaking lot of boston, which made a lot of sense in retrospect, considering boston has a ton of irish influence (apparently potato famines yield boston-style st. patty's celebrations. never thought i'd give thanks to a plague, but hey, life is unexpected sometimes.) it's weird though, i don't know much about architecture, but it all just starts to make sense now that i've seen italy and ireland. i understand now which stylistic elements of modern US architecture came from which historical origin. it's like when you finally learn Latin, and sit back and go, "Ohhhh, so THAT'S the root that caused all this lingual nonsense." except instead of lingual nonsense, it's brick/plaster/stone nonsense.
but i digress. (as i so often do. i don't know how you can stand to read this, honestly.)
so the first thing i did after i'd checked in to my hostel? should be something amazing and super irishy and exciting, right?
yeah, so i went to the laundromat. upside? i didn't sleep in wet pajamas ever again. (and i lived happily ever after.)
sorting through the blur that was Dublin.... god. alright so i arrived on tuesday morning, and Jen Kleinrock (my friend from Brandeis) was coming to join me on thursday night. i had 3 days to myself to explore Ireland - so i did that to the best of my ability. all day tuesday i was out, gaping openmouthed and waddling around the city with my expensive camera. there are Gaelic signs everywhere; i think i want to learn that before I die. i skipped on over to the Trinity college campus, and passed so many redheads i thought for a moment i'd accidentally apparated into the Burrow. i traipsed along past the 13th century stone churches, and wandered through the viking historical section of the city, where i found myself in conversation with a very... engaging... gentleman, who informed me rather loquaciously of the Nordic history of Dublin, his personal experience with Rosetta stone, his youth struggles with depression, and his friendship with his border collie, Sam. He asked if I could join him for coffee, but unfortunately I had a prior engagement. It was fascinating to talk to him, though. His accent was stronger than Lucky Charm himself. I honestly thought I was standing in the Shire making small talk with Frodo's neighbor. If i'd looked down and seen clumps of hair growing on his bare feet, I wouldn't have been surprised.
i mentioned how the architecture was just, "Irish"; well, the people are, too. that's another reason i couldn't stop smiling when I'd arrived. living in italy, i guess i just didn't notice how very "Italian" all of the people on the streets looked - somehow i'd eased myself into it. but suddenly i found myself around people who looked like ME. It was unbelievable. I started to notice such slight changes in facial features as i'd never noticed before. Did you know there are distinctly irish cheeks, noses, eyes, smiles, smile creases, ears, skin tone, body build? i have those features. i didn't look like a foreigner in ireland - i looked like a Trinity college student. all I lacked was the accent. and coming back to italy, i was even more aware of what "italian" meant. there are italian chins, noses, eyebrows, jaws, body build, skin tone, smiles, too. Maybe i'll make that one of my life art projects; distinguishing between cultural features. before they all get lost to the giant Melting Pot of the 21st and 22nd centuries, because i'm sure we'll all be nice world Mutts by then.
dublin for me quickly became about meeting other travelers, thanks to the youth hostel i was staying in, called Abigails. I met a Hungarian man named Peter on wednesday morning at breakfast, and since we were both traveling alone (at the time, anyway), we became friends. he took me out for a Guinness at a nearby pub, and we talked about careers and traveling ambitions and our hobbies. he's starting his own dental company in Hungary, and i helped him correct his english grammar on the company's website. He also, in return, helped me think about my career options in the future. He gave me advice about how to apply for a UN position as a translator/interpreter - a job i'd never considered before, but now sounds incredibly enticing, considering all the traveling i'd get to do. All in all, Peter of Budapest was a great guy to meet.
But that wasn't all. Next came Fabrizio of Sicily, Cristina of Spain, Pia of Germany, and Boris of Bulgaria - my four cliffwalking companions. I'd taken a day-trip out to Bray, a little coastal town 45 min outside of Dublin (and highly reminiscent of Bree, Mr. JRR Tolkien, I'm onto you...), and I joined their ranks after my solitary walk along the beach (during which i was quite immersed in thought/nostalgia, for various reasons, not the least of which were that A. the beach looked like Hancock Point, and B. there were border collie pawprints in the sand, running alongside my own footprints). These four travelers were staying at Abigails too, and i'd recognized them from that morning's breakfast. We ended up climbing to the top of Bray Head, where we had the most incredible view of the Irish countryside, plus some double rainbow action over the grey sea. this was my favorite day in Ireland. Another great day was my lazy writing day, when i decided to avoid the complete tempest that was raging outside and check-in to a cozy cafe for a few hours, writing in my journal. On that same day, Trinity college students had a march on the street right outside the cafe window. They were protesting the tuition fees that had just been doubled by their school, due to the economic shortcomings of the universities in general these days. i took my camera and followed the protest, and everyone was super excited to be on camera. see my dublin album for further information, slash the hilarious and creative signs they were boasting.
When Jen arrived, we experienced Dublin as much as we were capable of, with our limited budgets - and thankfully, that was still a great deal. We toured the Dublin castle and Christchurch, two of the oldest buildings of the city (though the castle was rebuilt in the 1800s), considered enrolling at Trinity college, had tea at a little cafe in the middle of Phoenix park, went on a traditional Irish pub crawl, went to Saint Patrick's Cathedral for Sunday morning mass, took a trip down to Howth Harbor (an active Irish fishing port), had ourselves a traditional Irish dinner at a nearby pub, got hit on by some 'traditional' irish men at the nearby pub, visited St. Stephen's Green, and checked out the Guinness factory. Plus a lot of hilarious conversations, failed dining experiences, smelly, flooded bathrooms, impromptu naps, frost bitten noses, and cheesy photo-moments in between. It was lovely.
On my last night, I met these three guys from Northern Ireland, whose names I cannot even remember, and it's because their accents were so, freaking, strong. I'm telling you, I refuse to believe they were actually speaking English, because it was harder to understand them than it is understanding Italian. They were staying in my mixed dorm to see a metal concert that night, and we spent around 2 hours just talking and making fun of each other. Unfortunately, I can't remember enough of their pronunciation to do the explanation any justice, but here's one small example: In English, we say, "I ate it at eight." In Northern Irish, they say, "I aight ett at ee-it." Fucking ridiculous. Excuse my language. (And theirs, too, for that matter.)
Also, I have to add an entry from my journal about the traditional Irish pub crawl, because it's an important aspect of my Dublin trip:
"Our musical guides, Larry and Mark, were so very Irish, and quite talented. They played some reels, jigs, and others that I can't remember the terminology for. At the end of the pub crawl, they asked the audience to share some of their own favorite songs, and I, feeling unusually brave, sang 'The Austrian' song that has been a Thatcher staple since I was a baby. Everyone loved it; but how can you not? I mean, you get to clap, make animal noises, and sing nonsense words in a big chorus of drunk people. When I finished and everyone clapped, Mark asked me where I was from. I said Boston. He responded, "Ah.. Boston. There's definitely no Irish influence over there.
"Mark and Larry's explanations of how music functions for an Irish family made me feel like I was finally finding people of my own kind, people who just understood me and my family's need for music. It's not about a performance, it's about a sharing of emotion, knowledge, spirit, self; it's what warms the very core of your being, like a fresh, hearty chicken pot pie or cuddling with a lover by the Christmas tree. And the Irish get that, because that is the Irish way; hearty, loud, talkative, rosy-cheeked, sensitive, open, warm. I think there's an equivalent tradition in each culture, that fills others' souls the way this fills mine, but it's just different from the outside. I think things only begin to feel this way when there is a fond memory attached to them, so I don't have anything yet like it in Italy, since it's still so new to me. I was just so grateful to have the chance to feel familiar and like I belonged again; Ireland gave me the chance to pretend like I was happily at home with my family. And that is priceless."

The rest of the amazing things in Dublin, i leave to be explained by my photo albums, because some things just can't be told in words. (i don't actually believe that applies here, persay; i'm just lazy and don't want to write so much anymore.) The one thing I do sincerely regret from the trip is that I didn't get to see the Ireland I'd always wanted to see, you know, the rolling hills and cozy countryside cabins and sheep and small, local pubs with friendly, familiar faces. But that's what I get for going to Ireland's biggest city and expecting the country, eh? Next time, I'll know what to do. And hey, maybe Jane of Limerick will host me; she invited me to come stay anytime.
I feel so freaking worldly. 😊

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