Upon Desert Arrival

Brahim put in many cassettes on our drives, mostly Moroccan songs that he wildly sang along to. We learned some and became attached to them too. By the end of the trip, we were singing and dancing along to his Bereber music. But just this once, he put in a cassette that was vaguely familiar. It was not until Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairies that I knew exactly what we were listening to, and realized how hilarious that moment was. Four American girls, all who had been brought to the Nutcracker by their parents dressed to the nines in furry hand muffs and white patent leather shoes, were barreling through the Sahara Desert in Africa in a 4x4 to the music from their wintery childhoods. Moments before this video was shot, a man in a turban on a moped was in front of us, and a white butterfly flew past our window. The four of us were dying of laughter, Brahim drove oblivious -- "yes, a christmas play, right??".

INSHALLAH

Some journeys can best be described through the images captured:

Sunrise in the Sahara Desert.

Our co-travelers from Aussie Land.

A merchant in Ouarzazate, he saw me take the photo and came up to the vehicle to "chat" (push me to come look at his things he had to sell).

From a studio that made fossilized goods.

Brahim causing a "speck-tackle", per usual.

The Bereber man finds home.

Daily life in Morocco looked mostly like this.

We found it after seeing its ads everywhere. The owner invited us to his garden to see how things are grown organically.

This boy was helping build a road in Marrakech. When we returned three days later, the road had been completely finished. I will never criticize old world methods again.

The colors, the sun, the old palaces.

View from the top of our Riad in Marrakech. Moroccans love TV too.

On the road, how we saw most of Morocco.

Moroccans work hard for their crafts.

The flag of Morocco: in high concentration when the king comes to town. His picture is also in every place of business.

He told us his name was Brian. He gave us a tour of a Kasbah from the 12th century with two women from Southern USA. He also mistakenly told us he had four wives and many children. Haha, he meant the king of the Kasbah did back when he reigned the region.

Such an amazing trip. I learned more than I ever thought I could throughout the entire semester in those two weeks. Shukran means 'thank you', Inshallah means 'if allah wills', muslims can be very liberal (Brahim was devoted to womens equality in Morocco), and Belguim women in their forties come to Morocco to hire teenage boys for the night (true story, Brahim lost his marbles in a giggle fit when we saw it happen). Everyone really does think America is the promise land, no matter how much animosity they pretend to have. A Bereber man can be much wiser even though he has never left the desert, Moroccans are feisty on ferries, four girls traveling in a pack somehow elicit the name "Spice Girls" througout the country, Spanish people are much like the Irish - very happy, always drunk. Shtool is german for stool.

Un Mese

So it has been a month since my last post, and while much has happened, all that is on my mind is that I will be leaving for two weeks in Morocco and Spain tomorrow morning!!  That is all I will want to share when I get back, so here is a little update on the past month:

Lizzie came and went.  I will be seeing her again in mid-may, when I will be taking off from Milano indefinitely and heading to Amsterdam (where she is studying) for a little while.  While she was here, we did a lot of city walking, had long chats in various historical places, and went on a dayhike to Lungano Switzerland. So pretty!  

The next week brought another exciting visit from Ben!  He stayed in Milan for eight days while on Spring Break.  Although it was mid-term week for me, we still managed to get out and walk around the city most days (and I still got some study time in).  We climbed to the top of the Duomo once we finally found it open (3 times the charm), went to a fair in Park Sempione where prizes in the ring toss included a carton of Marlboros and a bottle of gin, and wandered around the Navigli Canals doing what we do best - exploring alleys and window shopping.  It was so nice having him here to show off my newly acquired panini making skills.  Many days were also spent eating and sitting in the sun on the kitchen balcony.  He brought sunny weather with him!

Last weekend, a group of 84 students went to the smaller towns in Italy: Cemona, Parma, and Mantova for a Cuisine and Culture trip.  To prepare, I made a little dish of my own (see last photo).  I am getting so good--shocking I know!  

In Cremona, we went to a violin maker's shop where I literally sat with my mouth open in awe at how tediously handmade instruments are put together.  The craftsman demonstrated the sound quality of different woods and let us smell the various natural ingredients in his homemade varnish.  So fun.  

In Parma, the main event was dinner.  Five courses of delicious food and wine.  Highlight:  pumpkin ravioli and the best risotto I have ever tasted.  We stopped at a parmesan cheese factory on our way to Mantova.  despite the extreme stench, it was fascinating to see how cheese is made.  The amount of cheese in the little building was almost unbelievable!  

Mantova was a quaint small Italian town where I spent most of the day wandering away from the group to take photos.  So many little alleys.  The town overlooked a beautiful stretch of Italian countryside full of vineyards and farmlands.  

Dublino

Within twenty minutes of being in Dublin, Meghan, Cinnamon, and I walked into a pub where there was a musician was playing Miss American Pie and everyone was singing along.  Then the biggest disaster of a wedge occurred.  We later found out that it was a bachelor party.  At first, my dreams of Ireland being the greatest place on earth were shattered, but soon discovered that what we witnessed was not too far from the true Dublin. 

Where else would someone find a potato just laying in an alleyway??

Or be so confused by the locals attempts at giving directions that walking 30 minutes on the "carriageway" at 2am in the rain seems like a better idea than paying for a cab.

(tilt your head to the left)

CONESS!!

We took the commuter train to the coast, Howath Ireland.

True Irish meal: Shepard's Pie and Guinness w/ Cinnamon

Dublin Alley

Spending a long weekend in Dublin can teach you:

1. Irish people are the happiest people I have ever met.  Always laughing, and making jokes, even the train ticket seller joked around with us.

2. Dublin is the most impossible city to get around.  Streets aren't marked, maps are wrong, locals all drive therefore cannot give adequate directions for public transportation.

3. They are an hour behind Milan...something that took a whole day to figure out.  It is amazing how different your day is when you think it is an hour later than it is.

4. Just because we speak the same language does not mean there is no language barrier.  

5. that you actually know much more italian than you thought you did.  This is realized when you respond to english directions in italian by habit.  

6. Italy and Ireland might as well be on different planets they are so different.  

7. HOW MUCH YOU MISS STARBUCKS!  (or at least coffee shops of the like)

8. Someone in Ireland likes to put cones in weird places. 

next few agendas - Lizzie is coming to visit from Amsterdam on Friday.  We might go to Florence of Venice by train.  Then BEN is visiting from Tacoma the next whole week! Then we are going on a group tour of a cheese factory in Tuscany, and then MOROCCO!  jkhasdjheuajkhfbga.  That is an excited finger dance.  So many things to look forward too.

bBbboooooK hUnnNt

So tired from running around the foreign campus of Cattolica University to get two books from their library.  I was so proud of myself for figuring out how to ask "Dove la bibliotecha della economia?" before my ventures, but then realized - of course - that I could not understand a word of directions given to me.  After three tries, I finally tuned into the name of the building one man was telling me.  Then it was a trek to find a map of the place, the location, and how to go about checking out the books italian library style.  There is no such thing as shelf perusing in Italy which I think is  shame.  

But now I have the books and I am very excited and proud of my task accomplishment today!  Starting a paper two weeks before it is due is also a feat in and of itself!  Time to start reading about Economic Clusters and Silicon Valley - in English of course.  

MODA

Milan fashion week is coming to an end, and I was lucky enough to have to attend a day of shows.   It was just as I imagined it to be, loud music, skinny models, over the top clothing, and interesting people.  I was not that impressed by any of the clothing I saw, but a lot of the models were impressive and the whole day was extremely exciting and sensory overload!

While our class was only invited to one show, we quickly learned that boasting our Americanism, they were quick to let us into any other show of our choice.  At one point, all the journalists were yelling things at us.  I figured that we were in the way and they wanted us to move fast before the show started.  Then I hear la mia professora explain to them that we were "studenti americani" and that they were actually asking us who we were!  haha. After six shows in one day, I was exhausted.  

I was in Dublin (more later) this weekend during a lot of the big shows, but many students in my program took to the streets for some celebrity hunting and fashion-showing door busting.  My apartmentmates met Giorgio Armani, and there were many other Anna Wintour, Kate Hudson, Nina Garcia, and the list goes on and on of those who were stomping around my new locale.    

Battiglia delle Aranche!!!

It seems so long ago that I went to Ivrea, Italy for the Battliglia delle Aranche with my photo professor and some other students.  My friend Allison and I broke off from the pack as soon as we saw our peers purchasing red caps and headbands to signify that they did not want to get hit by any oranges.  We were there to get messy, and that goal was definitely accomplished! 

 The battle is a part of their Carnevale and there are a number of teams with carts that drive through the town and create a huge battle of flying oranges.  We hung out with three Italians all day and they bought us as much grappa as we needed to forget that an orange to the face might be a little painful.  

I don't know if the amount of fun I had in Ivrea can be topped the rest of this trip.  There was so much laughing all day.  Three weeks later and I still have dried orange smushies on my purse and boots.