Fresh to Death

We had to run.  No matter how early we ever try to leave for the train it always seems like I am running for a train.   Fortunetly, we did make it just in time with some tag teaming, one person parking and one getting the tickets, but we made it on the train which was the important part.  Anyway, every seat was full, of course, so we walked down the train until we found three seats in a car.  I sat down next to what was I later figured out was two girls pre-raging for their birthday, on the 12 pm train into Manhattan.  Now, I have absolutely nothing against day drinking, and I really can nothing bad about day drinking in strange places (the weirder the better), but Budlight lime?  Really?  That's where I draw the line.  Have some class ladies. 

Mom and Liz at the Met @Tiffanylamps

Right out of Grand central our first stop was coffee of course.  And it was good.  Luckily last week when we came into the city it was a beautiful day that felt more like early September than December, so we could walk around the city holding our coats!  This time we were not so lucky.  Boy was it cold.  I could feel the wind blowing through my layers and it was not pleasant, and my fingers complained vehemently.  The coffee helped everyone's mood lift a little before we got into a cab.

Our cab driver was the strangest man I ever met.  He was talkative but not in a friendly way, "why bother coming to the city at 1pm the days half over!" he exclaimed and then went on a fifteen minute rant about how we were wasting our time.  Oh joy.  When my mom explained that this was our last chance to visit the city and I needed to pick up my passport he started rummaging through his pockets very intently.  Apparently, he had a fare come through his taxi who gave him .70 euro cents and threw it in the back at me.  After that none of us really talked, but he did make me give him an extra dollar before we could get out of cab.  In all accounts on of my more odd taxi rides ever.

I don't get it

    

We went to the MET first, which was by all accounts fantastic.  We went through with no real plan other than seeing stuff.  I mean that quite literally. We just wanted to see what ever was there.  I was a little bummed I didn't have my sketch book with me.  We wandered through the Metal workings, and 18th century room recreation before we reached a recreation of colonial style housing.  Would you believe that they made everything in those room to spec?  Including the doorway?  Yeah.  I walked right into that one. 
The modern wing was strange, I'm not even going to pretend I understood half of it.  Like the pile of wound up rope which was supposed to symbolize how people work together and how life is meaningless in the end.  Yeah ok.  Or the painting that was, well I can't really describe it other than just a mess of paint.  It was like someone took ten buckets of paint, stood on a canvas, and started dumping them around him or herself.  So there it is, if that makes me uneducated and not 'with it' fine.  I don't get it, and I'm alright with that.  Right about then we all started getting really hungry, only....  We were lost somewhere in a maze of indescribable blobs / splashes / shapes and rope.  How would we ever escape?  What if we died here?  No one would ever know!  They would just think we were part of some weird new exhibit and god knows how long it would be  before someone figured it out and sent our bodies home. 

To get out we had to walk through the impressionists paintings, which were cool, but nothing to spectacular.  They didn't really hold to much of my interest, however as I looked off longingly at the little white man in the green room who symbolized freedom but more importantly sandwiches or perhaps a well rounded salad, in the distance I saw something that caught my eye.  At first, it was just a blotch of color, but it looked so familiar.  I have seen that blotch before, I said to myself.  The painting in question was three rooms down, so I stalked off to investigate as is my way.  Before I even made it through the second room, the colors clicked and I knew what I was looking at.  It was Monet's Water Lilies.  I was really excited, as a kid I studies a lot of paintings and I had always been partial to Water Lilies, there was just something comforting about the painting that always appealed to me.   I only had eyes for the Water Lilies, marched right up to the painting, and just stood there.  I was shocked, and so happy, I am not even remotely equipped with the proper diction to describe how that painting made me feel.  What I can say is, actually seeing something in person you have always admired and never in your entire life thought you would ever see, is a great feeling.  Its the difference between a recording and a live concert, there is just this power that radiates.  Why a picture of lily pads makes me feel alive and like I can accomplish anything beats me, but I reveled.

Once I had my wits about me again, I looked around, to my left were four of my favorite Van Gough paintings, and to my right was Muncha.   I freaked out.  Its was not my proudest moment.  But I ran around the room like I was a five year old.  By that I mean, I would: stop and stare up at a painting thinking and feeling small, then run to the next one.  I guess more because I had to look up and these were all paintings I had seen in books only, and had personal connections to.  Once I had sponged up all the art ambiance I could, or as much as our rumbling stomachs would allow, we pushed out way out of the MET.

Myspace.  Deal with it.

We had to make it over to the Indian consulate before 5:30, which may have been a problem as because of my slight detour we didn't leave the museum until 4 p.m. which is prime-time traffic.  Damn.  So not only was it cold but we had to cross about 25 city blocks.  Once again, out comes the hustle and we busted a move, I kept trying to hail a taxi, but no one was stopping!  A lot of them were already filled but it was also around the time when the shift change so they weren't stopping.  After 6 blocks we finally got one to pull over, and when I told him where I was going, he wouldn't let me in the cab! And drove off.  Some where I am pretty sure that isn't allowed.  Our hustle continued.  After 10 blocks of some serious power walking, bitter cold wind (sun was already setting) and some what souring moods we FINALLY got a cab...  which promptly got stuck in traffic.  We made it to the consulate at 5 which was perfect, I jumped out and went straight up to the door guard telling him why I was there, and he directed me to the line.  Now I may have hung my head and said "oh mann" to which the whole line started laughing, but it was cold outside.  Any time in the blistering cold I could avoid would be great.  Thankfully the line was quick and I was out of there within 10  minutes.  

We then wandered around Manhattan for a little looking for somewhere to eat when we passed "Burger Heaven".  I very excitedly ate the greasiest, biggest burger I have ever eaten, a large coke and some fries.  It was a little slice of heaven.  Until I got sick from grease overload as I have had pretty much a Mediterranean diet, and don't eat red meat.  But it was so worth it.  I <3 America.     

Making coffee at home  FTW

Monday finally rolls around and I have to leave the next day!  Which means, I should probably start looking at packing my stuff back up.  Most of it was stuff I was recycling out of rotation and pulling a few new garments in to spice up my wardrobe.  I went to an American Gym in the morning, Italian gyms are just not the same.  And came home in time to take my sister to school!  We never made it.  All I can say is there was a lot of Starbucks and shenanigans.  Then a nice family dinner with all my favorites.

Airport Farewells 

Tuesday rolls around and that was the end of the most perfect 13 12 (with the layovers) days I ever had.  My dad and I loaded up the car, picked up my mom and started making our way to JFK.  Our journey paused about 15 minutes away from JFK at a small little Pizza place called Amore's and had dinner.  If I were to ever make an exception and allow myself a small indulgence it would be at Amore's.  My dad has been going to Amore's since he was a kid and it has become a JFK tradition, you go to the airport you get pizza.  Over the years my dad even became friends with the owner so they talk every time he visits.

Look to the Bright lights, Zurich

Onto the plane and off I went back to Florence.  Looking down on New York the lights looked like stars and the city made this lovely pattern.  As we flew farther and farther away, I didn't feel sad, I would come home soon and New York would still be there.  Soon I fell into a deep sleep thanks to some help from a little friend call Niquil and by the time I woke up I was over Ireland.  When we pulled over Zurich it was amazing I could spy the little hamlets (or small villages) that were so adorably tucked into the valleys and niches in the country side.  It was such a beautiful area, one day I want to take a car and just drive through those towns.  I can say two things in German which is "I love you" and "do you speak German" but  I am sure I could manage something as I feel like people in Switzerland speak a little German....  And I speak less than zero Swiss.

 I felt tinges of glory when I walked through the terminal and people started talked to me and asking me questions in Swiss.  Now I know that when one is in their own country, they speak their own language so its not that big of a deal.  But I was just excited that I had not been immediately spotted as an American addressed in English.  I liked it.  I liked feeling that I could blend with different cultures and I faked a good amount of knowledge by just relying on body language and gestures, although I was soon discovered.

New York City looks like the stars from the Sky

Then it was onto the next plane for my last leg to Florence.  Now I am going to throw some premium octane knowledge at you bro.  I have learned over many flights that the key to success is pockets.  Send as much as possible in your checked in, choice one larger bag over two smaller ones.  Your carry on should be easy to pick up and put down and have pockets.  I chose a rolling bag with a big side pocket which I put my passport, some money and flight itinerary.  My purse was safely stowed inside the bag so I only had the one rolling carry on.  Now if you look back not too long ago to my post about when I arrived in JFK and helped some girl carry her bags out of the airport.  I saw me the first time I ever flew alone. I had 16 bags falling off me, I was dropping stuff everywhere and didn't know what to do with myself, which was part of the reason I helped her out of the terminal.  Now I am Julianne, Super Traveler!

Then came the Italian customs check, now in Switzerland I was stopped had to show my Visa, my permit of stay, explain what I was doing in Florence and I was patted down and scanned....  Twice.  Once on my way off the plane and once before I could get to the next plane.  When I arrived in Florence there was a man by the door who stopped me and asked if I had come JFK, which I had, then waved me through....   To where I calmly had an espresso then caught cab, and made polite conversation in Italian to my cab driver about the weather.  Baller.

I soon arrived back to my apartment to a freezer full of homemade chili con carne I had prepared a head of time in anticipation of jet lag, hunger and unpacking pains.  I had to run around Florence and do some errands and then sunk into my couch, exhausted but with with a cup of tea and chilli.  


Fin.    

But Eeyore wasn't listening.  He was taking the balloon out and putting
 it back in again as happy as could be....

Patron Saint of Sparkles 

10 hours in

America Like I Don't Care