We arrived outside Naples to a beautiful walled home and guest house of Rosa and Emburto, family of Acle. We would be staying in the beautiful guest house for three days over the course of the weekend and we were so excited for a break from the craziness of tour, we could not avoid craziness if we tried. We took the first day to wander about Naples down by the beautiful water front guarded by a sweet looking castle, peaked in a variety of shops, and had some delicious. That night we decided we would catch the bus into the city and check out some of its famous disco and night life. Our night would be nothing quite like this. We had a few drinks at the guest house and then wandered down to the pizza place to grab a bite before catching the bus. Intermission
At the pizza place we befriended the owner, the main pizza chef and one of his friends, three 30 year old gentlemen who were playing Scupa when we arrived. We had pizza and to much wine as we showed a poor show of Scupa( a Neapolitan card game) and where then told that the busses had stopped running much earlier in the night. In broken Italian and English the pizza owner, the chef and his friend decided they would drive us to a disco. All for an Adventure, we spilled into the owners and the chefs car and went to what we thought was a disco, only to arrive at an Neapolitan Tv studio. Our new friends showed us into the Studio where a live performer, I would say an Italian version of one of the Jones Brothers was performing while a Female dancer danced around him, looking something between bored and drugged. There were three camera men with high-tech cameras revolving around the performers, as people called in to speak with him from across the Naples area. One of the Cameramen let Emily use the camera and wear the headset, and we stood by the six other people in to studio who chain-smoked and shot us dirty glances as we applauded after a song, I guess you are not suppose to applaud in a closed studio. I have one question though,
WHAT THE HELL WERE WE DOING IN A NAPLES TV STUDIO? HOW DID WE GET THERE AND WHY WERE WE NOT AT A DISCO?
These are the questions I marveled on as we watched the fake spiked hair tiny bopper sing cheesy Italian songs. The pizzeria owner disappeared and the chef and his friend then drove us into downtown Naples rocking Techno and then dropped us off at a club, not even staying to dance they left saying they would call us to go dancing the next night. We were informed the morning after by Umberto who was friends with the chef of the pizzeria that we were not suppose to see them again as the wife of the chef is apparently a very jealous lady, we never saw them again. Finally making it to a dance club, we rocked out to 90’s English songs while realizing that we were easily the only people there under 30, and then taxied home only to argue with the driver who clearly jacked up prices because we were tourists. I gave him one euro extra and Emily and Liz were mad at me, overall a night I could never have predicted in my wildest dreams.
Friday, May 15, 2009
Thursday, April 16, 2009
I hate Garmin
When discussing satellite navigators it is realized that they are not god, and that you should not follow them religiously, one must also consult maps, guides and ask direction when lost. There are also times when sat nav’s should do what they are suppose to do, navigate. Our sat nav either being a special case, mentally handicap or just partially broken, has left us stranded more times than I can recall. We have begun to take pictures of when our sat nav takes us up abandoned roads, road blocks, dead ends, or into fields. I have discussed this with other groups that have different sat navs such as Tom Tom, and Ihave concluded that Garmin is Tom Toms mentally handicap cheaper brother, and is to be trusted about only as far as you could dropkick it, thus I hate garmin.
Apparently Italy does not have as many satellite connections as the rest of Europe, but it leads us astray constantly, recalculating every so often even if we are on strait roads and especially when we are in cities. Also rarely does it recognize one way streets which are a daily part of Italian driving. We should just hire an old Italian guy to sit in the front and he could most likely help us more. We feel it also takes us the least direct route possible, this is after playing with every function of the sat nav, to take it for us the best route via highways and direct routes. We have started having fun seeing how we can find the clearly smarter route, like stay on the highway instead of getting off the highway only to get right back on the same one 2km later after following a string of small dirt side roads next to the highway, frustrating. We have been lost in around every corner of Italy with the help of Garmin, we are not Italian drivers, we have adapted rather well in my opinion to tiny streets, no signs, one ways and a thousand roads with the same name, but all told we hate you Garmin, not enough to write an angry letter, but almost.
Apparently Italy does not have as many satellite connections as the rest of Europe, but it leads us astray constantly, recalculating every so often even if we are on strait roads and especially when we are in cities. Also rarely does it recognize one way streets which are a daily part of Italian driving. We should just hire an old Italian guy to sit in the front and he could most likely help us more. We feel it also takes us the least direct route possible, this is after playing with every function of the sat nav, to take it for us the best route via highways and direct routes. We have started having fun seeing how we can find the clearly smarter route, like stay on the highway instead of getting off the highway only to get right back on the same one 2km later after following a string of small dirt side roads next to the highway, frustrating. We have been lost in around every corner of Italy with the help of Garmin, we are not Italian drivers, we have adapted rather well in my opinion to tiny streets, no signs, one ways and a thousand roads with the same name, but all told we hate you Garmin, not enough to write an angry letter, but almost.
Cold Flat of Tricarico and small streets
Heading even further south into the toe we drove into the town of Tricarico, following our oh so wise sat navigator, who has tested my sanity on more than one occasion which I will discuss more about later in the entry, I Hate Garmin. We proceeded with our van which is a modest size in American terms, but is fat as all hell when it comes to small Italian streets. We found ourselves within feet, then inches, then centimeters as the street seemed to become narrower as we went on as if we were in some abstract painting. One Italian man offered to drive it down the road for us, we at this point politely declined without realizing we were entering a labyrinth of tiny streets. Within ten minutes Liz was out in front of the car directing us slowly on like an air traffic controller, Emily was screaming profanity at the sat nav, and I had my head hanging out the side window making sure we didn’t scratch all along the walls, all the while a line of smart cars and midget trucks gathered behind us honking their horns. That always makes it better when it is clear we are having a hard time and they decide to lay on the horn as if that will magically help, thanks Italian drivers.
With the help of our whole team, and a few old Italian gentlemen we managed through the tight streets in about 45 minutes to a place where our flat was not even located. We called the teacher of the School in the town we would be working with and she called the flat we would be staying in, and around a hour and a half after arriving in the small hill town where we were staying. The old Italian women, not speaking any English ushered us into a massive, cold flat, that was once a rich villa, but has may have lost a bit of care over the past 400 hears. With all the windows closed, the three radiators blazing we were freezing, and all huddled around an extra electric heat, to top it off the water was nice and cold, sweet. I must say though that it is places like these that make you enjoy the super nice accommodations. Luckily the teacher of the town Mimi was a very sweet lady. Her and her husband treated us to a great dinner at their friend’s restaurant, drank some wine and talked English, as they both were English teachers that had studied in England. They were so eager to speak English as I don’t think they get a good English conversation that often. Thank god for wonderful Italian folk, they make a cold flat and a cold shower not quite so bad.
With the help of our whole team, and a few old Italian gentlemen we managed through the tight streets in about 45 minutes to a place where our flat was not even located. We called the teacher of the School in the town we would be working with and she called the flat we would be staying in, and around a hour and a half after arriving in the small hill town where we were staying. The old Italian women, not speaking any English ushered us into a massive, cold flat, that was once a rich villa, but has may have lost a bit of care over the past 400 hears. With all the windows closed, the three radiators blazing we were freezing, and all huddled around an extra electric heat, to top it off the water was nice and cold, sweet. I must say though that it is places like these that make you enjoy the super nice accommodations. Luckily the teacher of the town Mimi was a very sweet lady. Her and her husband treated us to a great dinner at their friend’s restaurant, drank some wine and talked English, as they both were English teachers that had studied in England. They were so eager to speak English as I don’t think they get a good English conversation that often. Thank god for wonderful Italian folk, they make a cold flat and a cold shower not quite so bad.
Rosa and Rosa With a side of Liborio and day in the Passion of the Christ
When our group returned to Three, we came across some of the most wonderful teachers we could dream off, their names were Rosa and Rosa, these teachers not only spoke fluent English which is surprisingly rare for English teachers in Italy, but were the sweetest ladies. They pulled out the red carpet for us, taking us to a local restaurant for two days worth of amazing lunches with wine to boot. After the two days we spent at their schools which were semi difficult days, (a lot of kids and a lot of shows), they took us on a hike of the local gorge with their family. This massive nature reserve was gorgeous with caves and a breathtaking view, and then invited us out to dinner with their families. They took us to a specialized restaurant where we got a chance to sample the different meats that the area is known for cooking, and we were fed course after course of beef, pork, sausage grilled to perfection and topped with appetizers and homemade wine. During diner me and Mario, one of the Rosa’s husbands, was a smart character, interested in Politics and as the wine flowed we discussed Communism in broken English with Rosa translating. After this amazing meal we attempted to pay for our part and they were almost offended we even considered such a thing. At this point we had begun discussing ways of never leaving, buying a house down the road from either Rosa, and spend our lives with their wonderful families becoming fat Italians. Leaving was like we were leaving our own Italian family, and they gave us there contact information, cookies for the road and told us if we are ever anywhere in southern Italy to call them and we have a place to stay, done and done.
Near by the city of Bari in the Southern heel was the town of Matera, which we found out about on a sugar packet in a bar. It is the oldest town in Europe and the third oldest in the world, and a hill of thousand year old cave homes, winding roads and medieval and stone churches, surrounded by even more beautiful rolling mountains, and it is where Mel Gibson filmed passion of the Christ. I spacked out a bit from to much beauty as we drove into the town were cavemen had once lived. Then an English speaking guide by the name of Liborio came and knocked on the window, offering us a tour for 50 euro’s for the three of us. We talked him down to 30 euro’s and he then proceeded to take us on a 5 hour tour of the entire town, exploring cave church’s and homes. It turns out Liborio was born in the town lived his whole life there and was a historian of the town. He showed us the cave home where his grandfather was born and all the secrets of the town, and then took us to one of his friends restaurant in town for dinner. Liborio taught us the fine rules of Scupa, the Neapolitan card game, which we had attempted to learn the morning before from some old Italian gentlemen who spoke no English. All and All I love Rosa and Rosa, Liborio is the man and I want to refurnish a cave and live in Matera.
Near by the city of Bari in the Southern heel was the town of Matera, which we found out about on a sugar packet in a bar. It is the oldest town in Europe and the third oldest in the world, and a hill of thousand year old cave homes, winding roads and medieval and stone churches, surrounded by even more beautiful rolling mountains, and it is where Mel Gibson filmed passion of the Christ. I spacked out a bit from to much beauty as we drove into the town were cavemen had once lived. Then an English speaking guide by the name of Liborio came and knocked on the window, offering us a tour for 50 euro’s for the three of us. We talked him down to 30 euro’s and he then proceeded to take us on a 5 hour tour of the entire town, exploring cave church’s and homes. It turns out Liborio was born in the town lived his whole life there and was a historian of the town. He showed us the cave home where his grandfather was born and all the secrets of the town, and then took us to one of his friends restaurant in town for dinner. Liborio taught us the fine rules of Scupa, the Neapolitan card game, which we had attempted to learn the morning before from some old Italian gentlemen who spoke no English. All and All I love Rosa and Rosa, Liborio is the man and I want to refurnish a cave and live in Matera.
Monday, March 30, 2009
Police Tape and the death of the Three Little Pigs
The Day after we bid farwell to Breon we came across a school in Catanzaro that would changed the world of children’s theater as we knew it. The show Three little Pigs, the Audience 90 or so 5-7 year olds. We knew something was amiss when after the children were ushered in that they were not told to sit, we asked one of the English teachers why, and she said we cant make them sit or they may get cold and the parents will complain. Hoooold up, there was an expectation to make 90 5-7 year olds stand for an hour show, within five minutes of the story telling we went out and told all of the children to sit and continued as the noise in the poor sound quality gym began to grow with the children’s craziness and excitement. During the story telling we teach the songs and the dances that go along with the show, that have the little ones jumping, hopping and skipping in excitement. However during this storytelling one of the teachers pops behind the curtain to tell us that could we please make sure the children didn’t jump to high or skip to high or they might fall down. What are the children made of, fine china? They cannot skip or jump to high, ok team one struggled on as the children got increasingly louder and louder in our poor acoustic gym.
The English teachers who answered to the regular teachers stood by helpless to quite the children as the regular teachers just sat and watched us slowly get drowned. We stopped frequently to quite the children and as the show started we stood backstage wondering if we indeed would be able to finish the show under the dull roar of small voices. When the Three little pigs and the big bad wolf appeared the children started to jump on stage punching and kicking us, as other children throughout the whole show attempted to sneak around the sides of the stage while the teachers still sat idle by. We at this point did not think that we would finish the show but also that we just might get murdered by the 90 small children should they decide to rush the stage as a whole. At one point when I entered as the big bad wolf four children began to fight for my tail and I almost took off my mask in frustration and left the stage. I went to one of the head teachers saying that we could not finish the show if they did not do something and their response was to call the janitor in to play bodyguard and he also brought along police tape which he strung up along the front of the stage between a desk and a chair. Police tape to hold back a mob of children, absolutely absurd. Maybe ya know the teachers could actually try asserting some control over their children, no they went with police tape. We finished the show and a second show of Robin Hood which was a breeze in comparison, took picture of our police tape, then as we were leaving took the tape as a trophy. We used it as headbands in the car, a reminder that we had survived the ordeal, although or performance of the Three Little Pigs did not.
The English teachers who answered to the regular teachers stood by helpless to quite the children as the regular teachers just sat and watched us slowly get drowned. We stopped frequently to quite the children and as the show started we stood backstage wondering if we indeed would be able to finish the show under the dull roar of small voices. When the Three little pigs and the big bad wolf appeared the children started to jump on stage punching and kicking us, as other children throughout the whole show attempted to sneak around the sides of the stage while the teachers still sat idle by. We at this point did not think that we would finish the show but also that we just might get murdered by the 90 small children should they decide to rush the stage as a whole. At one point when I entered as the big bad wolf four children began to fight for my tail and I almost took off my mask in frustration and left the stage. I went to one of the head teachers saying that we could not finish the show if they did not do something and their response was to call the janitor in to play bodyguard and he also brought along police tape which he strung up along the front of the stage between a desk and a chair. Police tape to hold back a mob of children, absolutely absurd. Maybe ya know the teachers could actually try asserting some control over their children, no they went with police tape. We finished the show and a second show of Robin Hood which was a breeze in comparison, took picture of our police tape, then as we were leaving took the tape as a trophy. We used it as headbands in the car, a reminder that we had survived the ordeal, although or performance of the Three Little Pigs did not.
Sunday, March 29, 2009
Baby B the Beach and a 17 year olds birthday party
My temporary replacement to our group who would spend a week with us was Breon, or Baby B as he was nicknamed as part of our boy band we formed named Carmax, my boy band name is Molly Danger (who knows why). We found ourselves traveling from the heel to the southern coast of the toe, Sella Maria, within 5 minutes of the beach. The four of us did a couple of super easy fairy tale days, and ushered in the weekend with a night of heading out to the clubs. This night started with a nice dinner and a few drinks at the hotel and we tried to head out of the our abandoned hotel(we were the only guests, and the one hotel owner). We spent an hour and a half trying to get though the gate until we had to wake up the owner to let us up, bravo team.
When we finally made it out and to the town with the clubs 30km away (around 3km to a mile I later discovered), we came across a club called the Ace club which seemed to be bumping. We got conned into paying g 8 euro’s at the door, and it turned out to be a 17 year olds birthday party with weak drinks and one room with a disco ball and a tiny dj booth. We had a solid high school dance party to strobe lights and left amused and convinced we were easily the oldest people there. The search for a real club continues, and after our TomTom led us up a super tight alley we spent an half an hour squeezing out of streets that are not ment for anything more than smart cars and horses. The search led us to a massive club called Atmosphere. This big rather nice club had a line stretching for a while and it probably would have taken an hour to get in, but Baby b has some Italian friends.
Outside the club Breon sees a friend he made when he passed through the area on a previous tour named Pasquali. He ushered us past the line, got us discounted Vip tickets and in to the club in under five minutes, the club was gorgeous and absolutely packed, with stiff drinks and a live performer with dj to boot. The live performers name was La Bouche, and he wrote and orignally performed “Be my Lover” from the night at the Roxbury Soundtrack, we were all very stoked because it’s a ridiculous song, the dude was quite middle aged rocking a white tight suit and a some dancing girls. We smoked cigarettes in the club and befriend the group of guys that Breon had met on his last visit, and finally commuted back to our abandoned hotel by the sea around four am.
When we finally made it out and to the town with the clubs 30km away (around 3km to a mile I later discovered), we came across a club called the Ace club which seemed to be bumping. We got conned into paying g 8 euro’s at the door, and it turned out to be a 17 year olds birthday party with weak drinks and one room with a disco ball and a tiny dj booth. We had a solid high school dance party to strobe lights and left amused and convinced we were easily the oldest people there. The search for a real club continues, and after our TomTom led us up a super tight alley we spent an half an hour squeezing out of streets that are not ment for anything more than smart cars and horses. The search led us to a massive club called Atmosphere. This big rather nice club had a line stretching for a while and it probably would have taken an hour to get in, but Baby b has some Italian friends.
Outside the club Breon sees a friend he made when he passed through the area on a previous tour named Pasquali. He ushered us past the line, got us discounted Vip tickets and in to the club in under five minutes, the club was gorgeous and absolutely packed, with stiff drinks and a live performer with dj to boot. The live performers name was La Bouche, and he wrote and orignally performed “Be my Lover” from the night at the Roxbury Soundtrack, we were all very stoked because it’s a ridiculous song, the dude was quite middle aged rocking a white tight suit and a some dancing girls. We smoked cigarettes in the club and befriend the group of guys that Breon had met on his last visit, and finally commuted back to our abandoned hotel by the sea around four am.
Friday, March 27, 2009
Hotels, Cars and Trains
End stage Rome, Enter southern travel
We bid a fond farewell to the tiny awkward flat in Rome we called home and hit the road. Before we left we had a wonderful free business meal with Maria, who her and her family have become one of my many Italian relatives. We left to enter the world of long car rides and hotel rooms. After a 5 hour car ride down south we chilled at a hotel for the weekend were due to lack of refrigeration, where forced to chill our beers in the beday. It was around this time when I received the call that I needed to go all the way north back to San Remo for a meeting about my visa. For some reason the fact that I had a student visa was not enough they needed to see me in person, and Acle had just sent me far south for one promotion day, just so I could catch a solid 14 hour train ride back north, sweet(sarcasm) Yep the 14 hour dream journey started at 11pm at night where I left my worried team mates, got on the train with a dead cell phone, no ticket because I had never gotten the fax from the office, and not an English speaker in site. After a half an hour of charades with the ticket man on the train they sat me down in a cabin for a few hours till a different ticket person who spoke a little English came along to help.
The trip took three trains, they woke you up every few hours to check your tickets, and one time when I left my empty cabin to go to the bathroom around 3 in the morning, I returned to have the cabin I was in filled with a group of African girls who had spread out and taken all the seats and my bed, super sweet(much sarcasm). I arrived in San Remo looking like I had slept in a ditch and went to the police station to find out I they couldn’t even meet with me till the next day, and settled in for an evening in San Remo. After a few hours the next day waiting in the office for the police computers to come online(yep the polices computers were down, that must be safe) I took care of all the silly visa stuff and the office had been kind enough to book me a train ticket back to my group, this trip, an easy 18 hour journey on three different trains.
This beast of a journey at least had a night train to relieve some stress you would think, oh no no no. This was to be much funnier and less easy. The wonderful language barrier showed its head again here and I could not find my night train, after searching up and down the train for some clue to what the ticket in Italian said. Exhausted after a few hours train ride so far I looked for a sleep car with an empty bed and found one bed in a packed 6 person room left. I crawled in to it only to be woken twenty minutes later and kicked out at two in the morning by a ticket man to a spray of angry Italian because I apparently was in the wrong car. I stood in the hall weary and exhausted with no clue where I was going to sleep or what I was going to do till a different ticket man came bye, I showed him my ticket and he said” oh you are in the first class cabins” in english. I dumb founded was ushered to my own private cabin in the front and thankfully got seven hours sleep before I changed trains. I climbed into the bed of my private room and thanked any god I could that I was not found dead from travel exhaustion in the hall. I arrived to meet my group dazed as all hell, but quite content to no longer be within site of a train.
LA to the R to Y to the Ngitis
I had been hacking up lungs for a good solid month and a half by this point, and it was not till I fell ill with a stomach bug as well that my throat totally closed up and something had to be done. I went to visit to an Italian doctor with Maria the most lovely head of the Rome office, who translated for me to the doctor who spoke very little English. The doctor looked down my throat and went “Mama Mia” and started laughing as him and Maria covered their mouths as if I was carrying the plague while I sat there with no clue what was going on, haha good joke Italians. Turns out I had Laryngitis, and that with the stomach bug and a fever from the medication had me bed stuck for two days, luckily Faye was able to come down and cover some English days we had coming up. A few days before on the weekend before I realize quite how sick I was we were checking out the Sistine Chapel. I was feeling awful but forcing myself to see the amazing place and the museum that surrounded it.
I sat down for a few moments on a bench to admire the chapel and was woken up by Emily who told me that I had fallen asleep for a solid 15 minutes. Luckily it probably just looked like I was deep in prayer and not dead asleep in one of the most famous chapels in the world, but if anyone was going to nap there why not me. Also on my list of things I saw while I was quite ill was the Popes crib, the Basilica that sits right in Saint Peters Square. This church was absolutely massive and stunning, very different from the smaller beautiful Sistine Chapel. This Basilica was stunning, towering pillars, arched ceilings and filled with statues and paintings.
At least if I was deathly ill, I was deathly ill in Rome.
I sat down for a few moments on a bench to admire the chapel and was woken up by Emily who told me that I had fallen asleep for a solid 15 minutes. Luckily it probably just looked like I was deep in prayer and not dead asleep in one of the most famous chapels in the world, but if anyone was going to nap there why not me. Also on my list of things I saw while I was quite ill was the Popes crib, the Basilica that sits right in Saint Peters Square. This church was absolutely massive and stunning, very different from the smaller beautiful Sistine Chapel. This Basilica was stunning, towering pillars, arched ceilings and filled with statues and paintings.
At least if I was deathly ill, I was deathly ill in Rome.
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Do like the Romans do
We are bad tourists. Good drinkers, but bad tourists. We managed to miss the on two different occasions the Colloseum, which I might say is open very infrequently on the weekend which is very very stupid, as well as missing an AC Roma game and we showed up five minutes late to the pope speaking. We did manage to go out drinking at a place that was within site of the Colloseum, and there is something quite awing when you are having a drink within sight of thousands of years worth of history. We also manage on a few different occasions to procure some free drinks which I can take no credit for and can lay the credit at the feet of miss Liz and miss Emily. These two pretty girls managed to convince many a nice gentleman bartender to give us free drinks for the evening, but then we had to deal with the repercussions of driving around at 3 in the morning with Rocko(a bartender we think) and his friends all who spoke no English as they attempted to give us a ride home. We eventually with some drunken brilliance, at a traffic light all jumped out of the car with fear that they might kidnap us and then caught the first cab home. The girls also had to deal with the bartenders giving them calls for a few days asking them out on dates in very broken English.
Also adorning these nights of fun was a ridiculous pub crawl with a splattering of English speaking tourists, Americans, Canadians, English, Germans and an extra Aussi. We virtually found this rag tag pub crawl, crawling its way to four different pubs and spured by a free hour of drinking at the first pub, free shots at each following pub and discounted drinks(bullshit they were 9 euros) on top of a free t-shirt for 20 euro’s. The results, various pub crawl members disappearing along the way or going home early far to inebriated, others throwing up in the streets and still others being carried/ dragged along by friends, I was probably one of few survivors who walked in my door at the end of the night and that’s not saying much.
During the weekend days we recovered from the exhausting weeks and nights on town and eventually learned a bit about sightseeing. We hit up the Sistine Chapel, the Popes Basilica, the Colloseum (on our last weekend), the Roman steps, Pantheon, Columns, Runes and a plethora of other ancient cool looking things, not bad considering our runs as Italian tourists.
We are bad tourists. Good drinkers, but bad tourists. We managed to miss the on two different occasions the Colloseum, which I might say is open very infrequently on the weekend which is very very stupid, as well as missing an AC Roma game and we showed up five minutes late to the pope speaking. We did manage to go out drinking at a place that was within site of the Colloseum, and there is something quite awing when you are having a drink within sight of thousands of years worth of history. We also manage on a few different occasions to procure some free drinks which I can take no credit for and can lay the credit at the feet of miss Liz and miss Emily. These two pretty girls managed to convince many a nice gentleman bartender to give us free drinks for the evening, but then we had to deal with the repercussions of driving around at 3 in the morning with Rocko(a bartender we think) and his friends all who spoke no English as they attempted to give us a ride home. We eventually with some drunken brilliance, at a traffic light all jumped out of the car with fear that they might kidnap us and then caught the first cab home. The girls also had to deal with the bartenders giving them calls for a few days asking them out on dates in very broken English.
Also adorning these nights of fun was a ridiculous pub crawl with a splattering of English speaking tourists, Americans, Canadians, English, Germans and an extra Aussi. We virtually found this rag tag pub crawl, crawling its way to four different pubs and spured by a free hour of drinking at the first pub, free shots at each following pub and discounted drinks(bullshit they were 9 euros) on top of a free t-shirt for 20 euro’s. The results, various pub crawl members disappearing along the way or going home early far to inebriated, others throwing up in the streets and still others being carried/ dragged along by friends, I was probably one of few survivors who walked in my door at the end of the night and that’s not saying much.
During the weekend days we recovered from the exhausting weeks and nights on town and eventually learned a bit about sightseeing. We hit up the Sistine Chapel, the Popes Basilica, the Colloseum (on our last weekend), the Roman steps, Pantheon, Columns, Runes and a plethora of other ancient cool looking things, not bad considering our runs as Italian tourists.
Team Roma, NUTS
Roman inner city kids are NUTS! Country kids public schools and some private schools are the sweetest kids, they even ask for autographs after the shows kind of sweet, where some inner city catholic school kids are devil spawn who think they are too cool for school and their crap doesn’t stink. Imagine performing for kids who would rather be outside smoking, or be are so rowdy that there teachers can barely control them, yep they are the bastards. Our first few weeks were a mix of these, but luckily with every bad day there was three or four good days of children that make you totally love the job, we have collected at least a dozen cute kids we wanted to take home, a few nuns, and a stray dog our two that were all to cute to leave, so we packed them all into the trunk.
Also in the NUTS category are Rome Drivers who a) don’t know were the direction buttons are in their cars, b) think their horns are directional buttons as well the thing that controls every other aspect of the car and c) manage to make rude hand gestures while smoking and talking on their telephones at the same time. Overall very talented people.
Italians love to feed you, if you are foreign and like to be fed find a nice Italian family, say you want to be there American child, and you are in. There are many of them and I have adopted around 30 Italian families, don’t be telling them though I got each one feeling super special as if they were my only family. Italian food and wine is amazing and they know it, I think it becomes a contest for them to tell you it’s not much of anything when they have served you a four course meal that seems fit for a king, and they say they usually do better. In this mix we ended up at a Catholic school were nuns cooked us a four course meal with wine in the middle of a the day between shows, I fricken love nuns.
We were still rehearsing every fricken night for the first two weeks of tour which was a tad annoying, but once we got most of our stuff down it was time to have some fun.
Roman inner city kids are NUTS! Country kids public schools and some private schools are the sweetest kids, they even ask for autographs after the shows kind of sweet, where some inner city catholic school kids are devil spawn who think they are too cool for school and their crap doesn’t stink. Imagine performing for kids who would rather be outside smoking, or be are so rowdy that there teachers can barely control them, yep they are the bastards. Our first few weeks were a mix of these, but luckily with every bad day there was three or four good days of children that make you totally love the job, we have collected at least a dozen cute kids we wanted to take home, a few nuns, and a stray dog our two that were all to cute to leave, so we packed them all into the trunk.
Also in the NUTS category are Rome Drivers who a) don’t know were the direction buttons are in their cars, b) think their horns are directional buttons as well the thing that controls every other aspect of the car and c) manage to make rude hand gestures while smoking and talking on their telephones at the same time. Overall very talented people.
Italians love to feed you, if you are foreign and like to be fed find a nice Italian family, say you want to be there American child, and you are in. There are many of them and I have adopted around 30 Italian families, don’t be telling them though I got each one feeling super special as if they were my only family. Italian food and wine is amazing and they know it, I think it becomes a contest for them to tell you it’s not much of anything when they have served you a four course meal that seems fit for a king, and they say they usually do better. In this mix we ended up at a Catholic school were nuns cooked us a four course meal with wine in the middle of a the day between shows, I fricken love nuns.
We were still rehearsing every fricken night for the first two weeks of tour which was a tad annoying, but once we got most of our stuff down it was time to have some fun.
Friday, March 6, 2009
so....
i have four new blogs sitting on my computer, i just cant manage to get to a point were i can find an internet point to send them, so stay tuned for some good fun posts i promise
Friday, February 13, 2009
Rehearsal, rinse, repeat
1/18-1/25/08
Everyday
Rehearsal, Rehearsal, Rehearsal, Rehearsal, Wine and Food, Rehearsal, Rehearsal
My group is, drum role… A wonderful hilarious brit named Emily, and an amazing wee aussi with a permanent smile named Liz, both of whom I am good friends, laugh constantly with and work with brilliantly. We did a skit together during our rehearsal Called “Dolce and Gabana” and realized how rocking we all clicked and thus team Roma was born.
Once groups were set everyone started rehearsing feverously to prepare for their first show the coming Friday, and begin to hack down on the butt load of a repertoire we would need to learn. At least for the first performance we would have a senior Theatrino actor coming to watch us, our friend from the suburbs of Chicago and absolutely hilarious mate named Brion. To start off this Friday performance well, we got lost for two hours within the neighborhood of where the school was because our tomtom was wack, and our directions were wrong, so we ended up driving in circles and ending at the exact same spot six times. We then talked to the teacher and drove around looking for a lady in a green coat, and when we found her, her coat was not even green, error proof morning.
We were suppose to perform Robin Hood and Three Little Pigs, and ended up only having time to performing a getto version of Three Little Pigs while Brion laughed at our suffering from the back of the gym and then followed that with a stumble through of a workshop. Thus was our first performance and already the next day, Saturday, we were shooting out to start our tour. We would make the eight hour drive to Rome, settle into the ACLE Flat there and begin Tour Roma bright and early Monday morning. It was amazing how quick training went yet how long it felt at the same time as our family of 30 or so bonded by the fact of the crazy fricken job and experience we were setting out on.
Everyday
Rehearsal, Rehearsal, Rehearsal, Rehearsal, Wine and Food, Rehearsal, Rehearsal
My group is, drum role… A wonderful hilarious brit named Emily, and an amazing wee aussi with a permanent smile named Liz, both of whom I am good friends, laugh constantly with and work with brilliantly. We did a skit together during our rehearsal Called “Dolce and Gabana” and realized how rocking we all clicked and thus team Roma was born.
Once groups were set everyone started rehearsing feverously to prepare for their first show the coming Friday, and begin to hack down on the butt load of a repertoire we would need to learn. At least for the first performance we would have a senior Theatrino actor coming to watch us, our friend from the suburbs of Chicago and absolutely hilarious mate named Brion. To start off this Friday performance well, we got lost for two hours within the neighborhood of where the school was because our tomtom was wack, and our directions were wrong, so we ended up driving in circles and ending at the exact same spot six times. We then talked to the teacher and drove around looking for a lady in a green coat, and when we found her, her coat was not even green, error proof morning.
We were suppose to perform Robin Hood and Three Little Pigs, and ended up only having time to performing a getto version of Three Little Pigs while Brion laughed at our suffering from the back of the gym and then followed that with a stumble through of a workshop. Thus was our first performance and already the next day, Saturday, we were shooting out to start our tour. We would make the eight hour drive to Rome, settle into the ACLE Flat there and begin Tour Roma bright and early Monday morning. It was amazing how quick training went yet how long it felt at the same time as our family of 30 or so bonded by the fact of the crazy fricken job and experience we were setting out on.
Sunday, February 8, 2009
Training in a Nutshell, metaphorically speaking
1/ 11-17 /09
Recovering from jet lag I found myself in an unreal situation, rehearsing with 30 English speaking performers from across the English speaking lands, hailing from Scotland to South Africa, Idaho to Australia, and England to Virginia. We walked every day from our quant hotel with very little hot water to a beautiful villa with a view of the sea were we spent each day rehearsing children’s fairytales and skits all with the theme of teaching English through theater, and the crazy thing is this was all real, exaggerated to barest minimum and I am a person who likes to tell a story, this is pretty much as basic as I can describe.
The first week of training looked something like this:
Day Night
Mon Rehearsal Wine and Food
Tues Rehearsal Wine and Food
Wed Rehearsal Wine and Food
Thurs Rehearsal Wine and Food
Fri Rehearsal To much Wine and Food
Sat Rehearsal Far to much Wine
Sun Recovery and Lines
At this point I had went from awe, to horror and complete fear of the amount of work we had to learn when we finally found out the groups we would be touring in on the first Saturday. Meaning we had about a week to learn 6 fairy tales and 8 skits, yikes, before we were tossed out on our own to hit the ground running and see how bad we crashed and burned. I ping ponged back and forth between excitement for the amazing experience I was embarking on and utter fear bordering on the easiest plan of escape. I chose to stay with the adventure, and the group I ended up with only made me more excited for such an adventure. I could have ended up with any of 29 lovely wonderful international folk, and been quite happy, as over two weeks we bonded so much. I have made friends with a collection of English, some Scots, Aussies and others ranging from South Africa to Chicago, Virginia and New York. Tour Roma Next Entry.
(and yes im about three weeks behind, ill catch up I promise., ps- my myblogger is being a punk and not uploading photos so im working on it because this blog is much better with pictures)
Recovering from jet lag I found myself in an unreal situation, rehearsing with 30 English speaking performers from across the English speaking lands, hailing from Scotland to South Africa, Idaho to Australia, and England to Virginia. We walked every day from our quant hotel with very little hot water to a beautiful villa with a view of the sea were we spent each day rehearsing children’s fairytales and skits all with the theme of teaching English through theater, and the crazy thing is this was all real, exaggerated to barest minimum and I am a person who likes to tell a story, this is pretty much as basic as I can describe.
The first week of training looked something like this:
Day Night
Mon Rehearsal Wine and Food
Tues Rehearsal Wine and Food
Wed Rehearsal Wine and Food
Thurs Rehearsal Wine and Food
Fri Rehearsal To much Wine and Food
Sat Rehearsal Far to much Wine
Sun Recovery and Lines
At this point I had went from awe, to horror and complete fear of the amount of work we had to learn when we finally found out the groups we would be touring in on the first Saturday. Meaning we had about a week to learn 6 fairy tales and 8 skits, yikes, before we were tossed out on our own to hit the ground running and see how bad we crashed and burned. I ping ponged back and forth between excitement for the amazing experience I was embarking on and utter fear bordering on the easiest plan of escape. I chose to stay with the adventure, and the group I ended up with only made me more excited for such an adventure. I could have ended up with any of 29 lovely wonderful international folk, and been quite happy, as over two weeks we bonded so much. I have made friends with a collection of English, some Scots, Aussies and others ranging from South Africa to Chicago, Virginia and New York. Tour Roma Next Entry.
(and yes im about three weeks behind, ill catch up I promise., ps- my myblogger is being a punk and not uploading photos so im working on it because this blog is much better with pictures)
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Fabio
im about three weeks behind, chances are that will be a recuring event, but i do promise to keep you all enteretained even if it is a bit behind.
1/10/09
My first day in Genoa I woke up groggy as all hell in my hotel, and I started my voyage down to Cinque terra after meeting up with my buddy Albert Einstein, a good travel companion of mine. Many people thought he died but he didn’t, he has been hanging around bars in Genoa bored as hell and was up for a good travel. Cinque terra, is this connection of five beautiful coastal towns that to you take a train to or in warm weather hike from one town to the next. People told me it was right next to Genoa. Two hours later after a switch of trains we arrive at Cinque terra. We kept ourselves busy on the train though, , Einstein listened to my ipod while I slept, we watched the ocean for a while and then Einstein took a nap, but when we finally arrived it was totally worth it. The towns were so beautifully picturesque I couldn’t even handle it as I walked down winding streets and seaside. I sat by the ocean with a town hills above, the ocean in front and a piece of pesto pizza in my hand giggling with happiness and hoping that everyone in their life can visit a place as beautiful.
I booked It to three of the 5 Cinque terra towns, following winding streets filled with only a hand full of tourists, old Italian couples, and locals hanging out in areas that become a tourist trap come summer. On the two hour train back I sat reflecting on the beautiful experience when a young hip Italian guy, probably 18 hair spiked up, defiantly a Reaco Swava style character, ask me a phrase I didn’t understand in Italian. He then said “you speak English, eh?”. He then enthusiastically shouted “American, yeah, I Love New York City”, and slapped me on the back and I knew I had made a friend weather I liked it or not. I found out quickly what Fabio’s favorite things are.
Fabio likes
a) American Women
b) Drinking
c) Smoking
I then moved to the back of the train cars to continue our converation because he did not have a train pass, he mentions that his friends call him "The Fonz" becuase he looks like Fonzy from Happy Days, i was very much in awe of this particular character. Reflecting on our meeting i knew immediately this would only be the beginning of interesting characters I would meet in Italy, and I have not even met the crew I will be working with.
1/10/09
My first day in Genoa I woke up groggy as all hell in my hotel, and I started my voyage down to Cinque terra after meeting up with my buddy Albert Einstein, a good travel companion of mine. Many people thought he died but he didn’t, he has been hanging around bars in Genoa bored as hell and was up for a good travel. Cinque terra, is this connection of five beautiful coastal towns that to you take a train to or in warm weather hike from one town to the next. People told me it was right next to Genoa. Two hours later after a switch of trains we arrive at Cinque terra. We kept ourselves busy on the train though, , Einstein listened to my ipod while I slept, we watched the ocean for a while and then Einstein took a nap, but when we finally arrived it was totally worth it. The towns were so beautifully picturesque I couldn’t even handle it as I walked down winding streets and seaside. I sat by the ocean with a town hills above, the ocean in front and a piece of pesto pizza in my hand giggling with happiness and hoping that everyone in their life can visit a place as beautiful.
I booked It to three of the 5 Cinque terra towns, following winding streets filled with only a hand full of tourists, old Italian couples, and locals hanging out in areas that become a tourist trap come summer. On the two hour train back I sat reflecting on the beautiful experience when a young hip Italian guy, probably 18 hair spiked up, defiantly a Reaco Swava style character, ask me a phrase I didn’t understand in Italian. He then said “you speak English, eh?”. He then enthusiastically shouted “American, yeah, I Love New York City”, and slapped me on the back and I knew I had made a friend weather I liked it or not. I found out quickly what Fabio’s favorite things are.
Fabio likes
a) American Women
b) Drinking
c) Smoking
I then moved to the back of the train cars to continue our converation because he did not have a train pass, he mentions that his friends call him "The Fonz" becuase he looks like Fonzy from Happy Days, i was very much in awe of this particular character. Reflecting on our meeting i knew immediately this would only be the beginning of interesting characters I would meet in Italy, and I have not even met the crew I will be working with.
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
Part Un
First of all, for this blog I will do my very best to use proper grammar and spell things correctly, but knowing me that will not happen so please accept that I will be taking some creative licenses with words and slang so the language doesn’t get in the way of the tale, because yes it is a tale. Secondly I will do my best to make this at least pg-13, for any younger viewers but sometimes there is no better word to describe a situation then a good old fashion American cuss word, in this situation any number of Italian or English cuss words might also suffice.
This Tale as it will be told, begins with a heinous thirty seven hour transit, from Hartford, to Chicago, to a ten hour layover in Munich, then to Genova. However the real tale starts in Munich.
My ten hour layover in Munich stared with me dazed and walking through the airport to a counter to ask about subway tickets to the center of Munich, when the women in front of me passed out. Just plain slumped over onto the counter and slid to the ground. The dest worker and I shocked didn’t know what she was doing and after a second exchanged of im sure were nothing less than Oscar winning looks, we both ran to help this lady up, I shouted something incoherent, my version of help except maybe in a german accent(I was very very tired), the desk working grabbed a chair and some water from behind the counter. The women was fine, she drank some water and a doctor was called, and I was ushered without a word into the next line, welcome to Munich.
After a forty minute ride to Munich center I came from the subway upon a tour from the Wombats Youth Hostel. It was a group of Austrain’s, Brit’s and American’s, which was lead by probably the only black, bisexual, Peruvian tour guide in Munich, who else would you rather have as a tour guide?
My ten hour layover in Munich stared with me dazed and walking through the airport to a counter to ask about subway tickets to the center of Munich, when the women in front of me passed out. Just plain slumped over onto the counter and slid to the ground. The dest worker and I shocked didn’t know what she was doing and after a second exchanged of im sure were nothing less than Oscar winning looks, we both ran to help this lady up, I shouted something incoherent, my version of help except maybe in a german accent(I was very very tired), the desk working grabbed a chair and some water from behind the counter. The women was fine, she drank some water and a doctor was called, and I was ushered without a word into the next line, welcome to Munich.
After a forty minute ride to Munich center I came from the subway upon a tour from the Wombats Youth Hostel. It was a group of Austrain’s, Brit’s and American’s, which was lead by probably the only black, bisexual, Peruvian tour guide in Munich, who else would you rather have as a tour guide?
I learned three major things about Munich from this tour:
1. They love Catholicism
2. They love beer
3. They love pork
(the tour guide said if you remember anything from this tour remember these things, I did)
Other than that we saw pretty churches, beer halls and drinking yards, the hall and street where Hitler’s first rebellion was and learned that almost the whole of Munich except for two churches and two statues was destroyed during WW2. Everything else that appeared old and ancient was built in the last sixty years, I was a little sad it wasn’t as old as I had believed, but we can thank Hitler for that. The tour guide gave us lots of great information but between it being a bit freezing and my overall sleep deprivation this was what I can recall. After coffee with some Ausie’s and our tour guide, he invited us all to his favorite local beer hall. I was in beer heaven tasting some of the best German beers I have ever had, all local brews with lots of sss’s, and bbb’s and fff’s in the names(I will dig up the names for you brew lovers). I realized I had to fly out soon so I bid farewell to my new foreign friends and our wonderful flamboyant Peruvian tour guide and wandered back to the airport for a blurry eyed trip to Genoa.
1. They love Catholicism
2. They love beer
3. They love pork
(the tour guide said if you remember anything from this tour remember these things, I did)
Other than that we saw pretty churches, beer halls and drinking yards, the hall and street where Hitler’s first rebellion was and learned that almost the whole of Munich except for two churches and two statues was destroyed during WW2. Everything else that appeared old and ancient was built in the last sixty years, I was a little sad it wasn’t as old as I had believed, but we can thank Hitler for that. The tour guide gave us lots of great information but between it being a bit freezing and my overall sleep deprivation this was what I can recall. After coffee with some Ausie’s and our tour guide, he invited us all to his favorite local beer hall. I was in beer heaven tasting some of the best German beers I have ever had, all local brews with lots of sss’s, and bbb’s and fff’s in the names(I will dig up the names for you brew lovers). I realized I had to fly out soon so I bid farewell to my new foreign friends and our wonderful flamboyant Peruvian tour guide and wandered back to the airport for a blurry eyed trip to Genoa.
End part Un.
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