Around the Horn

Sarah and I lovin' Florence

A lost in translation moment: From the Florence airport, Sarah and I took a 15 minute taxi ride to our hostel, a small apartment 30 seconds from the Uffizi Gallery, a five minute walk to the Duomo. The hostel was cash only, so when we checked in, we used up all of our cash and needed an ATM and a place for dinner. The hostel recommended a cheap place called Gusto Leo. This was when we realized that we didn’t know how to say “ATM” in Italian. The host greeted us outside the restaurant, eager to seat us, but got confused when we started pecking at a wall, motioning for an ATM. The host clearly spoke no English, but only understood the word “Cash.” We were soaked from the rain and cashless, on our last strings of patience (we had waited at the Barcelona airport for 6 hours…) until thankfully, an American guy walked by and asked if we were looking for an ATM. There was an ATM a few blocks away. For your reference, “Bancomat” is ATM in Italian.

Breathtaking!

The next morning, we set off on a personal tour of the Tuscan countryside. We spent the morning cruising around the Chianti Classico wine region, visiting three wineries: Castello Vicchiomaggio, where Leonardo daVinci stayed the summer he painted the Mona Lisa; Castello Verrazano, think Verrazano bridge in NYC; and a smaller villa Fattoria Montagliari. We also had olive oil and balsamic vinegar tastings (aged 20 years…rich and delectable) and a tour of a wine cellar.

Crostini, anyone?

Some villages we stopped by included Castilina, Monterriggio, the “crown” of Tuscany”, and San Gimignano, the “Manhattan” of Tuscany, complete with 12 remaining family towers. We also visited Siena, walked the square, St. Catherine’s home, the 17 different animal districts, the Duomo and Santo Domingo.

After a whirlwind trip to Europe-more updates to come over the next week-I arrived in Ithaca at 6 pm last Sunday.  Completely dazed and jetlagged, I had completely forgotten (rather, wrongly assumed) that Girl Talk, the mash-up DJ sensation, was set to perform in Barton Hall at 7 pm.

A friend welcomes me home…and offers me an extra ticket to the sold out concert.  Reluctant at first, Ryan’s “carpe diem”/once-in-a-lifetime speech wins me over, and I decide to go to the concert, skipping a much-needed post-travel shower (you know how you always feel so gross getting off a plane?).  Not that this would matter, since the huge crowd reeked of sweat anyway.

My friend Katy and I were bumped back and forth in the crowd for 10 minutes before we decided to take a water break and dance in the periphery.  Why make like a sardine when you can rock out on the sides, with a 5-foot radius for your dancing pleasure?  We stay on the edges, busting out our unique dance moves, minding our own business (”dance like no one’s watching…” possibly the most popular quote among high school girls). Before we know it, a girl working the show pulls us over and asks, “Hey, would you guys like to go up on stage?” Um, is that even a question? We get the wristband hookup, and make our way on stage.

Girl Talk was amazing.  The biggest and best dance party of the year.  Every song/sample was geniusly matched, with a mix of old and new. I managed to snap a shot from stage:

This morning, I got an email from my friend Scott. Attached:

That would be yours truly tripping out in the back.  Proof that Cornellians know how to have a good time.

Sarah and I capped off an amazing first leg of our trip in the metropolitan and beautiful Barcelona.  It was  a challenge for both of us to relax and soak up the vacation time, since both of us are very uptight and punctual/scheduled people.  Our phrase for the entire trip: where’s the fire? There was no rush to do anything, and we embraced spontaneity (for once)!

Food-Drinkwise, we started our mornings with the prerequisite cappuccino and pastry, and fresh fruit juice from La Boqueria the outdoor market off of La Rambla.

During the day, we dined on tapas, paella, cava, and sangria.  We visited the Picasso Museum, walked along the beach, visited the Olympic stadium and the F.C. Barcelona stadium (2 blocks from our hostel!).

We walked by churches, cathedrals (La Sagrada Familia, which is still a work in progress, was AMAZING), parks, and unique buildings designed by Gaudi, the psychotic/obsessive Spanish architect.  On top of walking miles and miles of Barcelona streets, we mastered the Metro and also took the funicular up to Monjuic, which has some of the best views of the ports and city.

Sorry for the brief hiatus: I just came back from a 12-day European trip with my friend Sarah.  More details to come.

For the second year in a row, Cornell Men’s Basketball is in the NCAA March Madness tournament.  They released seeds yesterday, and our #14 seed Big Red will face #3 Mizzou.  In Boise, Idaho!  Definitely wishing the guys best of luck, and you can count on me watching the game on Friday.

Like many others who try speed up the drolls of March, I’ve decided to try my hand at filling out a bracket.  In the mean time, I’ve come across a few bumps along the road:
1.  Is filling a bracket randomly just as successful as a “well-researched” bracket?  Alex is insistent that his bracket–with hours of research–is near perfection.  While I might pick winners based on funniest mascot (Western Kentucky’s Big Red Blob, who can resist?), Alex spends hours poring over reports, video, commentary, all to see which team plays a better 1-3-1 zone defense.  What does that even mean?

2.  The Cinderella stories, the potential upsets:  As far as I understand, no one has been able to fill out a perfect bracket.  There are upsets, teams who had no chance in the first round, but show up in the Sweet 16.  Could Cornell be that Cinderella team?  I put Cornell through to the second round, simply because if they lost, it would be expected, but if they won, you’d be that un-school-spirited Cornellian who didn’t believe in your own team.  Tsk, tsk, shame on you.

3. Where are some of these schools? It was a geography lesson for me, looking up the schools such as Robert Morris (Moon Township, PA) and Xavier (Cincinatti, OH).  Some I hadn’t even heard before (Virginia Commonwealth, Morgan State?).  I picked some based purely on the fact that if their names are so unfamiliar, it wasn’t random that these teams made the playoffs; they have to have some decent skill.

Things should be interesting in the next few weeks.  Bring it on, Alex.

My roommate Hannah is part of the Museum Club, which on top of calling the Johnson Art Museum home, work the various exhibits and events throughout the year.  Last Sunday, the Johnson Museum featured an Australian Art and Culture exhibit.  And although I was only there for a short time (my car was double parked, and I was paranoid of getting ticketed, so my eyes darted back and forth between the lot and the exhibit).  One of the most interesting points of the visit was the didgeridoo concert.  The didgeridoo makes a low droning sound that apparently helps with sleep apnea.  Who knew?  The didgeridoo performance up close was neat, since the performers have to maintain a consistent drone with circular breathing.  So they breathe in and out simultaneously.  Pretty neat.

“Dear Seniors,

On behalf of the 2009 Convocation Committee, I am pleased to announce that Mr. David Plouffe, Chief Campaign Manager of Obama for America, President Barack Obama’s historic presidential campaign, will headline the Class of 2009’s Convocation Ceremony on Saturday, May 23, 2009. ”

Unexpected, but I’m looking forward to it.  While Mr. Plouffe may not be the most recognizable name, I think he’ll deliver a pertinent and inspiring message.  Talking with my roommate Katy, both of us hoped that the speech wouldn’t sugarcoat the real world too much.  We all realize the current economic crisis that the US is facing; all of us have worried about the immediate 2-year outlook of our post-college lives at some point in these past few months.  I think we need to stay hopeful but realistic.  It would just be an awkward situation if the message delivered was too rah-rah, while the grim reality is one of unemployment and stagnancy.

However, if going out into the real world isn’t scaring anyone, it’s probably this ending statement in the e-mail:

“I wish you the best for our final three months as Cornell undergraduates and hope you and your family will join us on May 23. ”

Three more months in Ithaca with my friends.  Yikes!

Having a car on campus for the past two years has really changed my perception of our four-wheeled friends.  Bold statement, I know, but consider this:  you live on North Campus your freshman year, with a select sprinkling of your class having cars.  The only exposure you have to current music, in the form of radio stations, is via car, which you rarely ride in your freshman year.  Not having a car also deems you virtually directionless anywhere outside of campus:  Routes 79, 96, 13, don’t exactly ring a bell.  The second you come home for winter break, driving seems so foreign.  I’m not ashamed to admit that moving quicker than walking pace freaked me out the first few days back home.

Aside from the practical perks of having a car, one thing that we miss out on is car naming.  I drove a silver minivan in high school named Linus.  However, my naming scheme has changed from just “liking” a name (Did you know that Linus actually means “flax”? Right.) to coming up with witty and creative names based on one’s license plate letter and number permutation.

For example:  My friend Danny’s license plate is DXT ####.  The name that first comes to mind is “Dexter”.  How apropos that Danny enjoys watching the show “Dexter” on Showtime, and that Danny sometimes wears glasses that kind of remind me of Dexter’s Laboratory.

Another few examples:  Adam’s license plate is CVZ ####. This is not meant to offend anyone, but the name we came up with was “Chavez”.  Even my friend Hannah, with license plate RJY ###, can come up with “Ray Jay” as her car’s name.Take it as you may, but these consonants all fit well into the naming scheme.

My license plate?  TNM ###.  No cutesy names here.  Tannym, Tennyam, all seem to be far stretches and don’t roll off the tongue as easily.  The only one that fits seems to be–Tsunami.

“That’s not a real name.”
“Well, at least it sounds intimidating.”

The Cornell Cinema has been screening a series of documentaries and films that center around water.  Last night, my roommate Katy and I went to see Up the Yangtze, which centers around an impoverished family trying to make ends meets.  Realizing their inevitable eviction along with little-to-none government compensation they’ll receive as “illegal citizens”, the family decides to send their oldest daughter Cindy to work on a Yangtze cruise ship.  The damming completely exploits China’s history and integrity; the workers on the ship are taught what to say and how to act, the entertainer on the ship sings “it’s so easy to learn Chinese-y” while the tourists dress up in “traditional” yellow emperor robes.  The entire cruise centers around the fact that ancient villages and sites will soon be under water.  At the same time, the tourism industry helps China because it offers so many jobs and opportunities, to which many are grateful for.  The cinematography is absolutely stunning, seeing the juxtaposition of vanishing natural scenic beauty with concrete and metal.  As much as our media focuses on alarming economic growth and looming prosperity of China, the documentary rightfully counters the light-speed cities with the dire situation of many rural citizens .

Fellow blogger Alex and I, along with a few of our friends, hit up the slopes of Greek Peak last week.  For many Cornell students, Greek Peak is a great skiing and snowboarding option given its proximity (about a 25 minute drive) and its deals on season passes for students.  I haven’t skied in eight years, and since we were going with a mixed group of semi-beginners, intermediates, and the one expert being Alex, I crossed my fingers in hopes of surviving a day of frigid cold and steep slopes.

After leaving the rental shop with the shortest skiis possible–the 10-year-old girl in front of me had longer ones–we were out into the cold.  We warmed up on the Magic Carpet, at my request.  From there, we scaled up and skiied down a bevy of green and blue courses.  Alex would take up some black diamond ones, since the green dot is probably a sign of boredom to him rather than a sign of comfort for me.  The mountain was busy, to be expected on a weekend, but not crowded.  We rode the ski lifts with little wait time.  However, but 4:30, the windchill picked up, and we were ready for home.  With windburned cheeks and reverse-raccoon syndrome (an outline of our ski goggles), we drove home happy and slightly sore.