Entry 14- La Bella Vita

Avas, I am back!
     I say this yet again, my apologies for not updating on the regular. Every so often my scholastic duties call upon me, and I must tend to them indeed. However, my duties as a student of life also call upon me, and to them I must tend also. Life said "Hey Paul, your girlfriend is studying in Italy, and you have a week off of school, and you finished one of your essays early... you should see her". To that invitation, I booked my flight, packed my bag, and began my journey. In order to fly with RyanAir (whom I was impressed with by the way. They are no thrills, but they get you there and back, and that's what a plane is for isn't it? It dawned on me how we now expect a plane to play movies, or have a tv screen three inches from our face, with a selection of 3000 different shows. Sure those things are nice, but remember when people played games, or read a book on a plane... or slept?) Anyhoo, in order to fly with RyanAir, I had to take a nearly 3 hour coach ride to the airport they fly out of. This coach didn't come until 3 A.M. and I figured, "What the heck, I'll just stay up, and then sleep on the coach and on the plane". That worked out fine until about half an hour into my sleep on the coach, some old guy got on and of the thirty seats open on the coach (believe me, not that many people take the coach at three in the morning) he chooses the one right in front of me, coughs loudly, then turns on the unnecessarily bright reading light. This, accompanied by the fear of missing my stop at the airport, made my sleep pattern on the coach quite infrequent.
     Well, I got to the airport in a timely fashion, and being that it was almost six, check in was a breeze. I hadn't gone through security yet, but didn't know what kind of food items lay on the other side of four bored security guards, who were just about willing to perform a cavity check if it meant spicing up the morning, and after that you sure as schnitzel don't feel like grabbing a McMuffin. Thus, I ate two Krispy Kreme doughnuts, and some orange juice, went though security, luckily they didn't go through me, and rounded the corner to find out that Stanstead Airport is basically a mini-mall, and the food on the inside beats the food on the outside. However, I wasn't hungry at this point and after browsing the shops for a few, sat down to listen to some music. Once again, fear of missing my flight kept me wide awake, but soon enough it was time to board my 8 A.M. flight to Florence, Italy.
     On the plane, you just grab a seat, leave the middle one open, and hope that no one takes it. Well, some cougar took the other isle seat opposite mine, and the young kid about my age who thought he was getting somewhere asked if I could scoot over so he could have the isle seat. At this point I was ready to fall asleep, so I really didn't care, and handed it over. This put me next to Patrick, a very nice guy from the American Air Force, who grew up in Florence, as was headed back to visit some friends and family. It was not that Patrick was unpleasant, it was just that I wanted to put my headphones on and drift off into dreamland, but I'm guessing Patrick hadn't talked to anyone for a few days, and mistaking my politeness for pure unhindered interest, he proceed to talk the entire two hours. On multiple occasions I would be mid-motion of putting my headphones on and finding solitude, and then BAM! new conversation. Not to mention, cougar was laughing ostentatiously loud at her little cub's joke, that really were not all that funny. Well, I got to Italy, Patrick spoke Italian and helped me get on the right train, and sure enough I made it to Becca :) She went to class, and I slept for about three hours (finally).
     Our first night we went out to a pizza spot with one of Becca's roommates and her friends. They were all incredibly great people, and after putting a decent amount of food away, we proceed to waltz through the streets of Florence in the warm night air. There was some celebration of the David, and they moved a remake of the statue to all the different spots he was intended to be placed before he made his way inside the Accademia where Becca studies. Friday was filled with strolling around Florence, eating Doner Kebeb (which are the most fantastic tasting thing in the world, not to mention that two equal your entire daily serving of calories, but who cares, google it), and meeting up with Becca's friends that night. They were playing poker for a two euro buy in, being that I am a wretched poker player, Becca decided to take the seat. After some significant amount of time Becca walked away the victor with a little over 20 Euro in her pocket... not bad for a friday night. To conclude the evening we went up on the roof of her friends house and looked out over the Florence skyline.
     On Saturday, we went for a run up to Plaza Michelangelo, where one of the "Davids" resides. I guess there are a bunch of different Davids throughout the city, 5 to be exact, with the real one living indoors. At the end of our run was this amazing old church, the name of which I forget, but if you jump to Becca's blog after this (labellaavventura.blogspot.com) you can check it out. I'm pretty sure we ate some more pizza that night, and just enjoyed each other's company.
    On Sunday we went up to Fiesole, a little city about 20 minutes by buys outside of Florence. It was a beautiful little place, and really felt like you were in the Tuscan country side. From one spot you could see all of Florence, and even though it was a little foggy, it still took your breath away. The Duomo, which is the massive church right down the street from Becca's apartment still stands boldly out in the skyline, and makes it that much more amazing when you are standing down by it. Sunday night everyone was down in front of the Duomo, so we hung out there, took some pictures, and enjoyed the beautifully warm night. On Monday, Becca went to class, and I slept (standard). When she got back we hit the town for my final full day there. It was filled with more delicious gelato, and more strolling through the streets of Florence.
     It really is a beautiful place Florence, and I would highly recommend it to anyone traveling to Europe. Not only is the food amazing (I have been on an increased work out plan since my return), but the history there is amazing. Touching the stone wall of a church that is older than the United States really boggles your mind. Looking at the architecture of the Duomo, or the painting inside of the dome itself causes you stand there in awe and marvel at the capacity God has given the human mind. And I challenge anyone, anywhere to a Doner Kebab eating contest... I will dominate!
    Well, leaving Becca was not the most exciting thing I've ever done, so we will leave it at that haha. She and I will be traveling through Germany, Austria, and France over Christmas break, with some surprise guest appearances along the way, so stay tuned for that. My flight back was fine, I put my headphones on before I was even in my seat, and read my Bible for most of the flight. The coach picked me up at 9 that night, and I was back in Norwich by midnight. It was an amazing trip, and it still throws me for a loop at how easy it is to travel once you are over here. So without any further ado, here are some pictures from the trip.

Inside The Duomo

The Inner Dome

I'm trying to do simple math in this picture...

The guy standing up is the first known image to bear the last name Hester.
The guy on the bottom is the named The World.
Moral of the story: We were born to tame the world.

Heeeey Yoooouuuu Guuuuyyysssss!

Night Photography

First Doner Kebab... Oh The Glory!

She's pretty cute huh?

It spun really fast...

This is a legal park job, and a legal automobile.

Thuggin outside the Duomo

Fiesole

Get your mind out of the gutter...
It's a water fountain to fill up dog bowls.

Aslan 

The Duomo is down there...

Rad Graffiti Tunnel

Klosterman Family Mafia

Uncle Mark has a special way of doing birthdays...

Even in Italy.
And a preview of what's to come...?

Well now, I hoped you all enjoyed another journey in the life of Paul. I won't make any more empty promises of updating on the regular, rather, I'll just start updating on the regular. Two weeks to the day until The Pirate Crew hoists canvas, and tames the Atlantic yet again for the celebration soon to be at hand.

In Icy Waters,
The Pirate Crew

Entry 13- Culture and The "Mo"

Hello All,
   This is a post slightly out of the ordinary, but one I am sure you will all find entertaining and purposeful. Recently I have been taking extra special note of what one would call "culture". Not just English, culture, but how other international students bring their culture here during their time abroad. I have found this mostly entertaining, yet some moments end up being rather uncomfortable. It has also made me notice how much we as international students serve as examples of our home countries, for better or for worse.
  For instance, the girl next to me in the library about two weeks ago. She was from some Asiatic country, the origin of which I am not totally sure, but it really doesn't matter. What matters is that there are about twenty open desks in the library from her to choose from and she leaves one in between her and I, sits down, and promptly proceeds to belch. Not just a burp, but a belch that contained the stench of the spicy prawn flavored potato chips she was munching ever so loudly on. My eyebrows raise and my head turns slowly her direction, you know, just to see if she is embarrassed. Who knows, maybe it slipped out, maybe she thought it was going to be one of those silent passing of air burps, like after you eat too quickly. NOPE! She doesn't even look up, but proceeds to let out another study shattering prawn bomb. I say all this because if she was the only person I ever came in contact with from her country, it would reflect very poorly upon her upbringing. Ultimately, as we humans sadly do, I would end up judging people from her home based on my experience with her. I guess it is just an eye opening experience (or eye closing experience as you will soon find out)  and made me aware that I have to be careful about how I portray myself as an American during my time in England and Europe. Once people know I am an American, my words and actions will be scrutinized, much like that when I tell people I am a follower of Christ. Well, Prawn Bomb kept burping, and as I wrote the final sentence of my paper, she did the unthinkable, she pulled the pin on a Prawn Gas Grenade. When that sucker exploded, I was literally crying. Half from the eye burning smell, the other from laughing so hard at the fact that this petite little asian girl just cleared nearly a whole floor of a 5 story university library. It ain't a small place, and it ain't an easy one to clear. I have yet to see her again.
  
    Though I have made the conscious effort to give our lovely United States of America a good name, others have not fared so well in their exploits. Again, it was a girl. (It's not that we men have become such proper gentlemen, these just happen to be the experiences I encountered.) My mates and I were all enjoying a nice pint at the campus pub, taking it easy and slow. We watched the footy match, played a few rounds of pool, and laughed the night away. It gets quite crowded and rather jovial on wednesday nights at the campus pub, and some people get a little too excited, a little too quick. Well, as I approach the bar, being it my round to buy (A holdover from the previous weekend. Never try to cheat an Englishman out of a pint. He will always remember who bought last. They are like Buddha-Yoda's in this sense. Ever laughing and smiling like Buddha, but every knowledgeable and remembering like Yoda). Sorry, I got way off topic there. Well, as I am standing at the bar, a very wobbly, high-heeled American girl approaches the counter. I know she is American by the way she talks, and by the way she is shouting to her friends on the other side of the pub as if they were still in the States. It is about 10:00pm at this point, something she most definitely is not aware of, as the acknowledgement of time left the capacity of her brain about six shots ago. After stumbling a couple of times, using my arm as stability, she finally graces the marble counter with her near 75 lbs of weight (purse included). After a minute or two of "ummmmmsssss" and "uhhhhhhhhhssssss", she finally goes "I'llllll havvvvveeee (drunk hiccup)... I will have a Budweiser and a Corona Light... (giggles, and leans in to say in a failed attempted whisper) They're both for meeeee". This is where I so badly wanted to step in and say "Actually, she won't be having either of those". Partly because she had definitely had too much, and partly because she was ordering a Mexican beer and an American beer in ENGLAND!!!!! It was the first time I saw with my own eyes the true ugly American. Well, she made it about three steps before spilling 90% of the Corona on the floor, and as for the fate of the Budweiser... probably similar to that of her state of mind... wasted.

Well that concludes my comments on culture for now. I do not mean to be condescending, and am in no way over dramatizing these events (well, maybe the fart a little bit, but it really was pretty bad). There will most likely be more comments on "culture" and "life" to follow. I love people. Good, bad, or indifferent, and I love to write about what I see.

 Finally, I want to comment on something a little more serious. This is mainly for the men following this blog. The month of November has started, more importantly the month of Movember. The 'Mo' is short for the Mustache and each November, men across the world are growing out their mustaches to support men with prostate cancer. Women rally in support of one another to save their twins every year, so we should too! Check out www.movember.com for details. You don't need to do the whole raise money if you don't want to, but it may be worth it for some of you to just grow the stache out in support of our fellow brothers. I know I am, as meager as it may be.

Thanks for making it through another novella of mine, the inner workings of my mind don't really stop generating life experiences into stories. Lots of love, and I miss everyone last one of you who read this on a regular basis, as well as those who don't.

Blustery Norwich Winds In Our Sails,
The Pirate Crew