Eccoci qua!

Yes, I realise it has been a while - I do have an excuse though: I wrote a whole post the other day but then my stupid laptop decided to freeze and I had to turn off without saving...lost everything... couldn't bear to rewrite everything. THUS, a summary of the past 2 weeks (more pictures than words):

18th + 19th Feb: Ponta di Legno, aka Bridge of Wood aka Montagne.

    

  My host-family owns a cute little cottage up in the mountains 2 hours from Bergamo, and considering my Venice trip was (unfairly) revoked by Mangina aka Voldemanci, they took me up there for the weekend. Due to many a reason, I did not ski (those who know my history with serious injury will perhaps think that this is a good idea...) So I read, and studied Italian, ate, took the ski lift up with my amazing host-sister, and admired the snow-covered mountains with my eyes and my camera lens.

22nd Feb: Clusone Carnivale

A Carnevale Ogni Scherzo Vale... (Anything goes at Carnevale...)

I keep going to these Carnevale celebrations, and people keep asking what it actually celebrates... so here is an internet definition:  "Carnevale, also known as carnival or mardi gras, is celebrated in Italy and many places around the world 40 days before Easter, a final party before Ash Wednesday and the restrictions of Lent." (http://goitaly.about.com/od/festivalsandevents/a/carnevale.htm)

Basically, people wear masks and throw confetti and spray each other with silly string and shaving cream. There are generally big parades that are super-well coordinated with floats and music and dances... the event attracts whole cities to join or to stand and watch.

Exchange students, however, do not simply "stand and watch". No. This is not in our nature. Exchange students get dressed up and travel hours to go to a parade where they know absolutely no-one where they can make absolute (sober ;) ) fools of themselves. So, we did.

Some of the floats: Mario (Italians fucking LOVE Mario), ducks, pajama party, Greek Gods, hippies, lords and dames, various countries, smurfs (in Italian, i puffy - I have NO idea why), stone-age era...the list continues...

 Not only does Clusone have an awesome Carnevale parade, but it is also a superquaint and photogenic little town.

We ventured for a walk around and found this: Piazza d'Oroglio. The clockface's numbers go backwards, and the hands move anti-clockwise. Italians - what can you do.

Seeing the fences that were erected in this piazza, i sillily (sillily? like, silly... but an adverb) assumed that was where the parade would start. (I was mistaken.) After dashing around asking for directions, we were told "Sinistra, e giú

...giiiiiiúúúúú"

Now for those that do not know how to pronounce Italian, the word "giú" (down) is pronounced "Jew."

My friend told me a story that captures my reaction to this word: He once saw a man shouting at his dog "JEW! JEW" and thought he was being anti-semitic. He was, just in fact, telling his dog to get down.

That is Clusone.

24th + 25th Feb: Ecco! Lecco!

My (then, not yet met) friend, Carson, invited me to join her for Lecco's carnevale celebration over the weekend. Lecco is known for its beautiful lake, il lago bello, but when I caught a glimpse of it from the train window I was gobsmacked - there are beauties in Italy that cannot actually be described, and photos cannot do them justice.

We met up with a couple of exchangies, did the parade, wore ridiculous (I say RIDICALUS) outfits, and then, at night, joined a street party in a piazza - there was a DJ and lazers and lights and smoke machines: and everyone in their costumes just made it an awesome experience.

 

An amazing weekend, with some amazing people.

When speaking to my friends back home a few weeks ago, it was always, "I can't wait to see you."

Now, it is "I can't wait to see you and introduce you to all these famazing [no typo] people."

On that note, it seems like my 3 month summer holiday plans are coming together quite nicely. A little visit from Daniel Wulfsohn, a little get-away with my favourite twin, Helene, and her brother. (JOKING. Calm the hell down, Michel), some plans with besti Gabriella Nadine, some London, some Croatia... let's see what else I can get away with...

Anybody up for a visit? :)

San Valentino, tu sei un cazzo.

Today is Valentine's Day, and holy moses, do these Italians know how to prove it. Besides the usual chocolate, flowers, jewellery vibe, the public displays of affection are what makes this holiday truly Italian. They say French is the language of love... I think this is because the Italians are too busy macking each other to talk. There is NO skaam - people mounting each other on Vespas, heavy petting on the tram, making out on the pavement outside schools... way to rub it in, guys. Nice.

I went for lunch with Franci, her aunt "Mimi", her boss and colleague, today to a restaurant called zerotrecinque (035) - fancy, but reasonable, definitely a place I'll be visiting again :) The place was swarming with couples getting a V-day lunch together during their breaks - sharing tiramisu and drinking wine at 1pm - sickening. Despite my efforts, Mimi insisted on paying for me, a gesture that made me feel truly welcome.

Rotary calls this period "February syndrome" - a time when the student feels like they've hit a bit of a wall: I seem to be stuck with the language, missing my friends and family more than ever, and finding an excuse to bitch about everything - school, host-family, money, holidays... I will sprinkle brown sugar on my cappucino, and think of my mom, smell a perfume that reminds of Gabi Stein, or see a jersey I want to buy for Adam Brews. Silly things.

On the school side, things have been rather easy the past two weeks - with "extra credit" courses, I have only had to attend about 3 days a week, until 12pm. The other day though, I was devastated when I was told that I would in fact have to stay for a 4 hour Italian lecture on Dante (for those of you who are unsure of who this nerd is, look him up - might take you a few days...)

After 3 hours of being the most bored I have EVER been, the lecturer announces that she is finished early and we are excused to go home - the whole theatre stood and cheered, clapping and whooping, but were suddenly shut down by another teacher who shouts, "Wait, everybody sit down, I have some questions."

Below the collective moan of the some 200 students, one of my friends pipes up, "F*ck you, you stupid bitch!", but loud enough for a teacher just in front of her to hear, who, surprisingly, burst into laughter as a sign of agreement. Ah, I love Italy.

Now, onto more exciting things. I caught a train to Milan this weekend for a meeting on Saturday afternoon, and organised to sleep over at one of the exchange student's host-families. I was SO excited to see the exchanges again who ALL live in Milan, so we were invited to "Bar Magenta" when our meeting ended. We sat through this meeting, detailing the strict rules and policies about drinking, and jumped at the first chance to leave and meet the others. Needless to say, alcohol came into the mix, two of the girls took it too far, and vomitted all over themselves. One of the girls got so drunk that she was taken to hospital and put on a saline drip. Idiot. Anyway, the responsible thing was done, and the girls' host-parents were called to take them home. [This takes "I'm gonna chunder everywah on my gap yah" to a new level]

The chairman, let's call him Voldemancina for anonymity, emailed us and told us that none of the new exchange students (keep in mind not all of us were even drinking) can go to Venice for carnivale this weekend. So unfair, its actually a joke. This guy has a reputation for being an absolute douchebag - don't know HOW he managed to get this position.

Despite looking after the girls, and getting Venice revoked, I actually had an amazing night. These exchange students, I swear, I've never loved a group of people so much in such a short time. One of them made a good point - we all get along so well because we're all exchange students - a type of personality that seeks adventure and grabs every opportunity.

Sunday was spend with two of the Aussies - legends - shopping and eating (my two favourite Italian hobbies) and sightseeing (but the stairs to the top of the Duomo were closed due to the ice... next time I guess.) The Duomo is such a beautiful cathedral - the stained glass windows absolutely blew my mind.

WTF are those dead priests JCing (just chillin') on the side though? So hectic. Heccers '09.

The only thing I regret not doing on this trip was soeking for Abercrombie and Fitch (Hannah, note: Not Abercrombie and Finch.) where, apparently, real male models are the shop clerks, and, occasionally, walk around topless. Something to look forward to :D

In the piazza outside the Duomo, an African man selling bracelets, and by that I mean coloured string, stalked us for 5 minutes trying to sell them to us. Eventually, he drops a "for free, for free" and runs in front of us to block our path, even after we declined his offer 13 times. Apparently, the one I got was good luck. Didn't stop him from asking for a "small donation" afterwards, though. For free, my ass.

A Valentine's joke to end. (Italians don't know how to do knock knock jokes. Serious problem.) Between me anddd...Michel Comitis. Because he hasn't had a mention yet :) He loves the Maccabees. We are going to their concert in London together. (When he books his ticket.)

 

Meg:     Knock knock.

Michel: Who's there?\

Meg:     Obama.

Michel: Obama who?

Meg:     Ooooo baaaa maaaa seee-eeee-elf, don't wanna be, ooooo baaa maa-aaa-a seeelf, anymoooore. 

(Tribute to Whitney Houston (you have a (cocaine) problem) )

Cappuccino with a View.

Quite an eventful day, giornata intensa, in contrast to the past 4 bed-ridden ones.

Lovely 8AM wakeup followed by the walk to church. Now, for those of you who know me personally, I am Jewish (Ebrea), though traditional at the best of times. I joined my host-parents at mass this morning completely voluntarily - not only as a gesture of respect and interest toward their culture and religion, but also out of simple curiosity on my own part.

The church, decorated with half-recovered paintings of Christ and his besties and frienemies, was quaint. The priest/vicar/equivalentofRabbi was about 80 years old and shook while praying (I think out of arthritus rather than religious vigour). [Don't get me wrong, I am not being critical of Catholicism, this particular church, or this particular prabbi.] I just found the whole experience uncomfortable - the kneeling and the crossing and the clasping of hands and the likes... I can't believe I'm saying this, but I seriously miss Judaism. I miss the Friday nights surrounded by family and friends. I miss the food. A LOT. (Not that Italian food is all that bad, don't get me wrong.) I miss the tradition and the warmth of Judaism in my home that I have been brought up with. I am going to start my investigations into visiting Milan to join a shabbat, or perhaps Passover in April.

After church, I ditched the fam and went walking up to Citta D'alta (The upper city of Bergamo) for a lunch and photog mission. Having been forced to listen to innumerous facts in Italian about the 60 churches in the area, I opted to visit numerous caffes, restaurants, shops, chocolaterie, gelaterie, and such... Be in for picture ops or for the name-sake of said place.

The first thing on the agenda was to visit the Caffe Funiculare - the resident caffe next door to the funicular. (that's one of those slanted lifts, for those of you who don't know Clifton...) This caffe has a view of the entire lower city - all rooftops and trees covered in snow: When family and friends come to visit, THIS is where I will take them for coffee :)

 

(I was SERIOUSLY impressed that i could order, request sweetener, pay the bill, all in Italian.)

I did not account for the fact that up-top would be 5 degrees colder than in Bergamo centre, so, freezing my ass off, my outdoor missions were made short and sweet.



One last memoir for the day, and no matter how I describe this, with no photo (not relevant to the one above), I cannot do it justice. You see, Italians take their dogs EVERYWHERE. Restaurants, clothing stores (Yes, the fancy ones, too!), caffes, public transport... and in winter in Italy, its expected that the pooches also get donned in the warmest and most fashionable of winter outfits. This morning, I saw what was a cruel event - a chiwawa (serves him right for being more rat-like than canine) literally balancing its whole body on its front legs while defacating on the snow - the poor (hideous) thing (creature) couldn't deal with the cold. It looked like something out of Cirque Du Soleil, I swear. I walked past canning myself. Shame, though. (But not really.)



Io ho mal di testa :(

Headache. Not "crazy balls" as one of my friends put it.

I've been struggling with flu for the past 3 days, but I have to admit that admiring the snow (now a good 10cm of it) from behind closed windows and heated interiors, has its advantages.

I got asked for my number by some Italian kid on the train the other day. If I wanted you to know the details, I would have shared.

One thing I would like to share is my cleaning methods. Do you remember that cartoon "The Jetsons"? I tried to explain it to my host-family... The Flintstones, but in the future, where they live in space and drive flying cars etc? Remember their maid? She used to prep food and it would pop out of an automated door in her belly. My POINT is that they have one of those things. Its a cleaning robot, I swear to God. Its this little round machine that you put on the floor and switch on and it rotates around the room sucking up dust and shit. Proper one of the coolest things I've ever seen. I find every excuse to use it. I still wish it could make my bed, though.

My best friend back home had a longboard accident this week and managed to dislocate his wrist, and break a couple of bones - I dunno, not sure of the exact details. Anyway, Puff Addy Big Poppa Brews, wishing you a fast recovery, my friend. Draw lots of awesome shit on your cast like the canvas on your wall, and remember, "we don't follow no crowd, it follows us."

<3

Snow-Pizza

People have been 'chalishing' for more pictures, and I have been 'chalishing' for snow. Looks like we can all be happy now :)

I donned my South African scarf and went on some camera-adventures outside :) I also had my fisrst Italian pizza today, in the snow, thus the title. My friends laughed themselves silly at me when I was looking out the window of our class in absolute awe at the snow falling outside. Snow can make even the ugliest things seem beautiful and romantic. I've decided: freezing cold winter with no snow is like... chocolate chip biscuits with no chocolate - its not worth anything without the other.

Buon Compleanno, Salmon :)

First of all, a beautiful birthday wish to Romy "Salmon" Rabinowitz, my other older sister. :)

Though the weather is usually a filler during conversation, I find this all very exciting. Torre Boldone, my suburb, doesn't get snow, but I saw pictures of my one friend's home - 5cm of snow!! The pictures are beautiful - I'll post them as soon as I figure out this MMS-in-Italian business. Torre Boldone might not get snow, but it gets FLIPPING cold. You see, you get the whole smoke-out-of-mouth thing when you breathe, but the cold burns your throat, so, you try breathing through your nose, but I'm pretty sure the air freezes your shnarlies (how do you even spell that?) and mucous (hmmm, nom nom) into snotty-icicles that cover the interior-nostril-area. It HURTS. :(

Embarassing story of the day: On the tram this morning, not having anything to hold on to, I took a proper bail during the acceleration and fell square on to the lap of a pre-teen boy, who made some sexual comment about me to his friends afterwards that I, unfortunately, was able to understand. Gross.

I'm typing this post with 9 fingers, considering I sprained my finger at basketball today. Basketball, you ask? Yes. Basketball. Who the hell knew that Meggi-Jean had ball-skills/hand-eye co-ordination? Besides actually enjoying myself, I somehow managed to score 2 baskets, which made my team the winners. Wow, I love winning. #WINNING. (@ melodyjanesch-naaier.) The coach was super-proud of me. She's a right legend, despite her English being virtually non-existant.

On the other hand, the English teacher is either A) unqualified, or, B) RETARDED. Our English grammar lesson today got me so frustrated, I began (NOTE: not, "have began") (wow, now "began" sounds like a really weird word. Don't you love it when that happens?) doing figurative shoot-me-in-the-head sign-language to my classmates, who laughed and said "idiota" under their breath - condemning this teacher to the hells of idiocy. I mean, I don't want to overstep the boundaries and correct every second statement, but it got to the point where I actually burst out laughing.

I was considering the following: in high schools in South Africa, our Afrikaans lesson is taught by a 1st-language Afrikaans person, Hebrew by a 1st-language Hebrew person...etc. This confuses me.

Regardless, when she said, "Will I have got a job?", I lost my shit - threw my toys out the cot - had a fannywobble - whatever you want to call it, I laughed and shook my head, corrected her ("Will I find a job?"/"Will I have a job?"/even "Will I get/be given/have GOTTEN a job" - infinite more-correct possibilities), and the stupid bitch had the AUDACITY to tell me I was wrong. Obviously I backed down, not wanting to cause a scene. The teacher was called out by the administrator a minute later, just in time for the class to erupt in hysterical laughter - I got high-5's, I got "You go, girl!'s", I got "She is, 'ow you say, em, a stupid bitch"'s. The BEST part, when she returned, with her textbook in hand, she said "Yes, it seems "Will I have a job?" is what the memorandum says..." - no admission of her mistake, or an apology for telling me I was wrong.

I had a double Spanish lecture today - 2 hours worth of a language that to me, sounds so similar, except for the Thpanish lithp that dithtinguishes between the two - that I asked if I could be excused. Granted, instead of studying Italian like I had said I would do, I went to a classroom and took a well-deserved English-and-Physical-Education-hero nap.

If you think South African admin is bad - WAIT until you experience Italian bureaucracy. I needed to get some document today - I don't even know exactly what it was - but I knew that I HAD to get it and I had to get it PRONTO. I went to the post-office with Sara, with allllll the papers we needed/might have needed to complete this process. After waiting at the post-office for 45 minutes, we were told - sorry, rather SCREAMT at by some witch who told us that the process had changed this very morning and we needed to go to some other place to get some other official something. And so we went, a 20 minute walk in the effing snot-freezing cold to go to some OTHER office, where we again, waited 45 minutes to be attended to, upon which we were told everything was in order and that the stupid cagna (not even going to bother posting a translation) at the post-office was wrong. And so we returned, only to be shouted at AGAIN, and then AGAIN by the superior, who eventually just conceded and gave me the one piece of paper I needed. FFS.

Fun fact: I found out that our beloved pizza-and-other-amazing-stuff restaurant, "Col Cacchio", means "with shit"/"to hell". I don't know whether to be scared, or amused. Still, probably never going to eat there again.

Jelly of all the people going to visit Stellies this week - have a jol :)
Lots of love to everyone xx

Brioche con Marmellata, per favore.

As school started at 9 again this morning (I LOVE this concept), a few of the girls in my class and I went or breakfast, again, to "Suite" - a caffe with its doors right on the main street "Pappa Giovanni". My sister, who went to France on Rotary in 2007, recounts stories of "Notting Hill" - a caffe she frequented in Lille with her friends. I have a feeling that "Suite" is the new "Notting Hill".

Everyone orders the same thing: un cappuccino e un brioche (croissant). BUT, they've fancied up the conventional cheese-jam-and-crean combo. They put the shit INSIDE the croissant. I don't understand the process - I envision someone getting fancy with syringes - but everyone is satisfied with their choice - jam (on the INSIDE. My word.), flavoured creams, chocolate, spinach and feta, pancetta, cheese...pretty sure they could work out something for the freaky-of-preferance people, too.

Something I am desperately trying to understand: Italian pigeons.

How is it that the pigeons are MORBIDLY OBESE but all these Italian bitches are anorexic and eat brioche con crema for breakfast every morning? Makes NO sense. Does someone have a possible explanation for me about this (terribly unfair) phenomenon?

On the subject, I now have an exercise bike in my room. (Not on the subject of pigeons. The subject of morbid obesity [or the prevention thereof]). It's great. And the buttons are all in English. Yay.

The girls at home have all been pounding (oh, how appropriate) me with questions about Italian men. Oh, Roland also. Let me clarify: the ratio of girls to guys in Luceo is about 20:1. The ratio of hideous men to decent or above average men in the street is about 10:1. (Things are looking up!) (Note, not "hooking up". LOOKING up.)

Suite has 3 regulars who are old-school-Italian-movie-gorgeous. The girls strategically position our table to optimise staring and being-stared-at potential. It's great.

I wore my "Ciao, Bella" hoodie today, to great response.

Special shoutout (as requested) to Sir Jeff Seeff, of awesome origins, who I miss dearly. Have heard wonderful feedback about the blog - thank you to everyone who takes the time to read it :) I hope you're enjoying living your Italian dreams vicariously through me.

OH! They predict snow this weekend. STOKED.