Happy Mother's Day!

Though it's not much out of the ordinary since I've been away at college, I am away from my Mom on Mother's day. The only difference is that this time, I am out of the country. Fortunately, we will have a make-up-Mom's day in less than a week (also typical of the past few years). But for today, I want to take a moment to appreciate probably the most influential woman in my life, my wonderful mother, Babs.

I for one, take it as a huge compliment when people tell me I'm becoming more like my mother. She is one of the most friendly, personable, generous ladies you will ever meet. What I admire most about my mom is her unmatched ability to make people feel appreciated and cared for. For proof just observe how much any of my friends (even those who haven't met her in person!) absolutely adore my mother and love spending time at my house being listened to, supported by, and spoiled rotten by my mom. She always creates a welcoming, warm atmosphere that instantly puts people at ease.

And despite being an incredibly busy, active person between volunteering at schools, sports, bible studies, committees, etc., she manages to have time to help anyone who needs some extra love and support. I know beyond a doubt this was a lesson passed along from her own mother, one of my extraordinary grandmothers.

And besides all that, she is Fun (capital F necessary).

Though admittedly, yes, some of the "fun" of the self-proclaimed Disco Queen has caused my slight (or great) embarrassment in years past, I've grown to appreciate how she can take control of any situation and make it into a hilarious experience. I hope I will always have as much joy and fun in my life as my mom does!

So here's to the best mommy a girl could ask for- I love you so much!

Ciao, your baby girl.

Virtual Sightseeing- Top of the Duomo!

I know, I tend to ere on the loquacious side of things. Anyone who actually makes it through an entire entry deserves a gelato and my undying admiration. My roomies, Sam and Gina, and I did the quintessential Milano tourist thing and went to the top of the Duomo and took lots of pictures. So as a treat- here's an entire entry sans descriptions. Rest your brains and enjoy the eye candy (ha- the Duomo, not me)!

ok- that was an exercise in discipline, but I made it through with out a comment! Ciao for now

Cinque Terre- The Italian Riviera

The most beautiful place in Italy award goes to: Le Cinque Terre. For a place in the guide books, the Cinque Terre was blissfully rustic. At its best reminiscent of a quaint old undiscovered string of village tucked into the folds of hills, at its worst, a bustling riviera retreat. We headed over on a bus with about 50 others IES students to La Spiaggia where we hopped on a boat and were dropped off in the middle of the terre.

The entire IES crew commenced the "hike" on the beautiful trail along the water through the "rain". Seriously, not to be condescending, but the impression some of the girls was that they were risking their lives on some dangerous trek through the wilderness was a little hilarious. We, Gina, Jake, Emily and I quickly outpaced most of the group and got to enjoy the trail without the gaggle.

Really- could it be more beautiful?! The drizzle intensified the colors of the landscape.

Being from Oregon, the drizzle didn't bother me one bit! Thankfully it had the unforeseen effect of dissuading most of the sillier IESers that Cinque Terre was not the place to be for the weekend. HA!!!

We woke up the next morning and looked out our window to see brilliant, warm sun lighting up the vineyard covered hills. This was literally the view from our room. When this is what 16 euros a night gets you, does it get any better?

After a leisurely morning we hit the free trails that traversed straight up into the hills abutting the ocean and villages. We quickly learned (the hard way) to allot at least some of our attention from the incredible views in order keep at least one eye on the trail markers. Considering our biggest detour took us through a lemon grove studded with peeling blue doors in rubbled door-frames.

We hiked up the hills and with each steps distanced ourselves from the swarms of beach-goers and trinket buyers. The burning in our muscles (thanks to Jake's long-legged breakneck pace) was rewarded by amazing, untainted views.

And incredible flora and fauna that we decided looked like a hybrid of Hawaii, Oregon and Colorado.

Those among us that feel at home in nature contentedly soaked in our surroundings in a state of near bliss. My wonderful friend Gina, who had never been been on even a little hike outside, pointed out something sadly rare for Italy, an absence of man-made noise. Emily and I broke out into huge grins while Gina made a face and proclaimed it to be "creepy and weird."

After our incredible hike, we finished off the day with a sunset picnic in an incredible little piazza near our room. We headed back to our house and played cards on the balcony while watching the stars emerge.

After another lazy morning, we hit the trails again, this time opting to go halfway up the hills. Instead of climbing across the ridges, we wound our way through vineyards and olive groves to arrive at one of the towns.
We hopped back on the train and headed to Monterosso- the end town and spent the rest of the day soaking up the sun on the beach.

The break from city life was absolutely a perfect weekend. The mix of breathtaking views, fresh air, and insanely good company was unbeatable. It's times like these that make me want to stay forever.

Ciao for now.

Sicilia- A Misadventure for the Ages

Don't get me wrong. Sicilia was tremendously fun. But with that in mind, every plan Gina and I made went awry. More often than not, this was to our benefit. To explain this phenomenon, all I can offer is that Sicilia is a place unique unto itself, with a life and spirit of its one.

My Sicilian adventures started on easter day as I boarded my flight out of Portugal back to Milano and was informed by the lady at the check-in desk that I must check my guarenteed universal carry-on bag. Considering I was due to arrive in Milano at 6:30 and my flight to Sicilia boarded at 7:15 (with the bold printed warning on my boarding pass "IF YOU'RE LATE, WE WON'T WAIT), thus began my State Of Panic. I arrived in Milano, waited at the baggage carrosal for my checked carry-on, finally grabbed it, rushed toward the boarding gates and was told I must go back upstairs and go through security again. I ran upstairs, got through security and was informed with a very pessimistic tsk that I was in the wrong terminal and needed to catch a shuttle over to the second terminal located way out in nowhere land. By then it was 6:57. I ran through the rain, jumped on a shuttle and sat and waited for 5 minutes before the driver decided to drive at a snails pace across the airport to my terminal. Upon arriving I bolted out the door, ran (at this point feeling the burn) through the crowds, and was told at the security line that I must fit my "purse" inside my carry-on bag. 7:16- Purse stuffed into a now bulging bag, I ran up to security and proceeded to get chatted up by a very interested inspector. Looked up at the departure board (my flight was flashing "now boarding"), I tersely answered that yes, like my passport said, I was from America, yes I liked Italy, no, I'm actually living here, and was eventually rewarded by the returning of my passport and the reassurance, "don't worry, you have plenty of time." 7:23- bag in hand, boots back on, I flailed down the hallway toward my gate and arrived to see a que of people jostling onto the plane. Flushed and still coursing with adrenalin, I carried my bag up the steps and was on my way.

I arrived in Palermo to find the last bus had left an hour ago, and was forced to stomach the expense for a Taxi to Trapani where I was to meet Gina at our pre-reserved B&B. After driving around the streets of Trapani for 20 minutes, my driver finally agreed to talk/yell with the B&B manager and we eventually arrived at Viale Don Matteo, a street too small to drive on. Fortunately, my taxi driver needed to use the restroom and therefore accompanied me down the small dark alley, into the dank kitty-litter odored entry, up the steep, rickety, marijuana odored staircase into my reasonably cute, decent smelling, but chilly damp room. Taxi driver paid, keys received, I was left alone, in my chilly room, unable to contact family or Gina on Easter night. Fortunately, Gina arrived about an hour later, we laughed about our "charming" budget accommodation, and went to sleep.

TRAPANI...

We set out exploring the next morning, walked the beach, were appalled at the pervasive garbage, arrived at the ruins of an old villa and met some very friendly, very high German boys currently camping within the ruins.

From there we headed inward, purchased some blood oranges and olives, and set home. We somehow ended up on the opposite side of the train-tracks, which had no crossing point until well into the boringly ugly, utilitarian modern city center (ugly construction said to be the fault of the unchecked mafia presence). We crossed the tracks, followed sign and trudged along a long dusty road the desolate Industrial District. About a half hour, 5 car horn honks, 1 dead cat carcass, and much delusional laughter later we finally ended up reaching the port near our B&B. So overjoyed arriving and seeing water, we promptly sat at the waters edge and ate all of our groceries. As it turns out, part of the reason our trek through the doldrums of Trapani had seemed so forlorn was that it was siesta hour(s) and the town was vacated as all the locals had fled on post-Easter day-trips. Allora...

We recovered and rallied and explored the entirety of every nook and cranny of the very charming, very, very small historic city center in a few hours.

It has some pretty ocean views.

The locals started to emerge in the growing cover of dusk. We ate and with lack of an alternative and no desire to stay in our damp room, we headed back out to re-explore the city center, running into the parade of local young-people in cars and vespas at every turn. Apparently that is what they do for fun in Trapani, they drive around together for hours on end. That pretty much sums up Trapani. We were very excited to catch the bus to Palermo the next morning.

PALERMO.

We arrived in Palermo, found the entrance to our hostel without too much trouble, opened the immense outer doors and entrained into a dilapidated barren courtyard. Gina and I exchanged looks of panic, but dragged our bags up the four flights of stairs and rang the bell. We were pleasantly surprised to find a bright, clean, comfortable hostel with a very helpful owner who drew us up a map with all the highlight of the city. As per usual, Gina and I first set off to find some food, and ended up finding our favorite part of Palermo- the food market.

Fresh fruits, veggies, biscotti, cheeses, olives, meat and fish crowded the streets. We purchased our food and then explored the other markets and the historic cites of the city.

If it appears to you that Palermo is slightly dilapidated and showing its age, you are correct. Between piles of garbage on the streets and obvious neglect, Palermo is a city that is literally crumbling apart. It is a city that bears its heart on its sleeve and assaults your every sense with its essence.

That night, Gina and I met up with some friends she had made in Malta that were actually from Palermo. As it turns out, they were serious recreational salsa dancers, and very eager teachers. On the way home, we got pulled over at a National Police road-block. Yup, we are dangerous criminals needing deportation. After a full night of being twirled and spun every which way, Gina and I stumbled to bed and slept away the good part of the morning. The next day we once again hit up the markets, scoring tropo cibo, and visited the Catacombs of Cappuccini (that's right, we saw dead people). We walked around all evening and ended up hanging out with two Germans and an Irishman at our hostel. The next day we made our farewell visit to the market, I purchased 2 euros of oranges which ended up being more than I could carry (luckily the Germans ran into us and I unloaded a third of my bag).

CATANIA.

Note to anyone traveling to Sicily: the only direction you will ever get out of a Sicilian is "Siempre Drieto" or "always straight". Unfortunately for Gina and I, things are not always "siempre drieto", and we ended up dragging our overflowing bags up and down every curb in Catania in an hour long circle around town to our hostel that was literally within sight of the bus-station. This probably was the low of the trip, at one point we ended up on the right street, in a Piazza with half of the correct name, sitting on the curb looking at each other in near destitution. Thankfully, I couldn't have asked for a better travel companion, and we did make it to the hostel without any tears, swearing, yelling or anger toward each other. We explored the beautiful, Clean, city center, sampling local pastries along the entire way.

The next morning we rose early and took the only bus up to Mt. Etna at 8:15. The bus drops you off at the base, where Gina and I both quickly invested in another layer to stave off the bitter cold (our Spring Break clothing didn't quite cut it). We purchased a ticked and went up the venicular. This is what we found. A path cut through the snow.

Engulfed by clouds- very disorienting.

But onward and upward we trudged until we reached a refuge, into which we followed a paying tour group. We hung out for a bit until everyone left, and as we were leaving, one of the mountain guides, little Nino, noticed Gina's eyes (2 different colors) and we all became friends.

Little Nino, pictured above, took us on a free private tour of the crater. His brother Salvo was very chivalrous and gave Gina and I each a half of his coat (hey, it helped). We felt the hot spot created by the heat of the crater- and were very hesitant to move- cosy.

But we went inside and old Nino gave us some of the steaming hot pasta with fennel and beans the guides were eating for lunch! Best pasta ever. Then we got a tour of the crater, the old lava-squished refuge, and...

We got to climb into an ice cave! And After that, old Nino made young Nino make us coffee. Then they closed up for the day and we all went back down the mountain in their extreme mountain jeep, the guides singing and teasing us the entire way. OH, and yeah, all this happened while speaking ITALIAN. THE WHOLE TIME!

Gina and I spent the next day killing time as we were forced to take a much later train than intended, at a higher cost of course. We wandered through the markets and I learned that if you wear a skirt in Sicily the men will loveeee you and stare and chat and give you samples of everything whether you want it or not, and the woman will give you death glares. Somehow, we still had room for dinner and had a secret, apparently contraband, picnic dinner at a castello, got kicked out, and headed home to Milano.

And that was Sicily. Whew! I'm glad I'm still alive.

Ciao for now,

Katie

Portugal Part II- Adventure in the Algarve

After leaving the land of fairy-tales, we headed to the land of swashbuckling sea stories, aka the southernmost part of Portugal, the Algarve. We stayed in a modest pension in Lagos, a town that is a veritable mash-up of people and cultures all united by their love for the sunny waters. Proof of the cultural variety is found in the gloriously diverse cuisine- we had Mexican food the first night! Though it was far from authentic, and served by Australians, after months of being inundated by carbs, this was pure heaven for me. The next day we eagerly hit the beach, starting out on a big, long beach perfect walking beach (don't worry, taken full advantage of) with fine sand. After a few hours, the wind drove us to seek a calmer spot and after a gelato break (all I have to say about that is gelato outside of Italy just doesn't cut it), we found this beautiful cove.

The rocks extended on either side like arms hugging the beach. There were tunnels between the string of coves, perfect for exploring and imagining.

This second round of soaking up the sun pushed my poor miserably pale winter skin over the edge, and I ended up with quite the painful reminder of the glorious day. After applying copious quantities of aloe, we headed out for dinner and ended up at a organic "fusion" restaurant called Origins. It was perfect for me; if you can get a beautiful, organic, fresh gourmet meal for around 10 euros, something is wonderfully right.

The next day an ominous looking cloud cover graciously prevented us from further torturing our skin, so we opted for a more historic, scenic day at Cape Sagres.

Beyond being breathtakingly beautiful, Cape Sagres is fascinating on quite a few levels. From as far back as prehistoric times, Europeans thought Cape Sagres to be literally the end of the earth, the last land before an endless sea.

In the ages of nautical exploration, Cape Sagres served as the starting point of most expeditions and the location of Prince Henry's navigational school. We caught the bus over and explored the cape and the vestiges of a very well positioned fort. Here we are in full exploration mode ready to spot any advancing pirates:

Though no longer the nautical hub it once was, Cape Sagres remains important beyond a historical context. As the manager at our pension told us, "Cape Sagres is an important place to the Portugese because it is a place where man still feels small". In this day and age, it is a gift to be able to so thoroughly humbled by His creation.

Another value adding aspect for the locals, apparently the cliffs make a great fishing spot. Eek! Honestly, does this look like a wise idea (also factor into account the fierce wind that literally suspended bird in flight)?

Further proof:

All in all, Portugal surpassed my wildest dreams and expectations. It is by far my favorite place I've visited, and I can't wait to go back. Between the cosy and magical architecture, the mystical forests, the brilliant beaches, Portugal will serve as the setting of my dreams for years to come.

Ciao for now!