Rome I: The Fast and the Furious

Rome is nuts.  I could probably end this post right now with just that.  For those of you who have been you understand.  My first experience in Rome was in a taxi at 1h00 going ~140km/h on the oldest road in the city, which could perhaps even mean the oldest road in the western world.  Totally bizonkers.

Our first night there we finally saw a face that we knew, the tall man himself, Sam*.  It was refreshing to see a new face and hear a new voice that I could understand.  That first night we stayed near the airport, slept well, and woke up late and as quickly as we could got out of the hostel before they had to kick us out.

*Sam may also be referred to as Samwise, Samwise Gamgi, Samwell, or the Big Tall Man. Sam is actually a big tall man, 

We ate breakfast, I had my first cappuccino of the trip (I have not gone over 24 hours without one since.  Mom, I am sorry for all the times I have criticized your coffee addiction, that stuff is good).  When we got the Ciampino train station we bought our €1,30 tickets to Roma-Termini and got swindled for the first and last time.  These two guys kept asking for any money to help them get to see their family, doing the whole sob story act.  Duy gives them ,25¢ because he has more heart than Sam or me, and they proceeded to walk up to the counter, pull out a €100 note, and purchase a ticket.  It was one of those "So that's how it's going to be, eh?" moments.

Our hostel was right next to Termini, the large train station in Rome, which isn't exactly the best spot if you're looking for upscale, though looking out of our 4th floor window (5th floor in the US) we were able to see some interesting things.  Remember this for later.

The few days we had before the program was our last chance to be on our own and travel at our own pace.  Traveling with Don and Jenny has been great because they can point out what's important, old, and cool, and tell you why it's important, how old it is, and why you should think it's cool.  Contrastingly there is something quite rewarding about taking the time to figure it all out on your own.  Like when we realized we were walking through some old ruins, and they happened to be the Termini Baths aka the Thermal Baths.

So, with that said, we found a lot of stuff that seemed cool, but we had no idea what it all was until monday.

Rome is an interesting city to explore.  There are something around 7 straight streets through the entire city that were cut through Haussman style (so, like in Paris) but Rome's are much older and related to pilgrimages, and these visually connect a series of monuments which help lead one around the city.  Once you get used to this, Rome is pretty easy, but until then, getting lost is just a fact of life.

The nice thing about exploring at our own pace was that we could nap.  And boy oh boy did we nap.  We were all exhausted from traveling, Sam without his luggage and only a change of clothes, and it was a good break before the program started.  We also did a lot of socializing.  We went out a few nights and met some really fun people.  The most interesting of which was a wonderful Finish girl and her Italian friends.  The story goes like this:

Sam is looking out the window.  A girl is across the way.  Waves are exchanged.  She asks, "Where are you from?"

"Oregon"
"Where?"

"Oregon"

Now at this point I realize what is going on.  She is not American, she just speaks english and has no idea where the heck Oregon is, but everyone in the world knows where California is so we usually refer to the famous state before ours.

I decide to interject "We're from the US!"

Now she gets it.  The whole, where are you from? What are you doing in Rome? etc is exchanged.  We learn she's from Finland, I tell her I love Helsinki.  Then I yell "Do you want my phone number?"  and shout the digits across the street.

That night we text each other and decide to meet up in San Lorenzo, the student district. We realize that we know only her name, her phone number, and that she's blonde.  Though we actually found her!  Go figure.  So we hang out with her and three wonderful italian girls all night, in perhaps the most memorable night of the trip thus far.  It truly summed up the first week and a half of travel: it's about who you meet and the experiences that you share.

Heini, thank you for looking out your window.

Paris, Je t'aime.

Paris. C'est ma ville.


I love that city.  I have never felt more at home, with perhaps the exception of Northwest Portland.  I love the language, I love the culture, and I need to spend more time there like a kid loves candy and fresh snow. Looking back the series of events that even led me to Paris, let alone where we stayed and who we met there is unbelievable.


A girl from our hostel in Madrid who I knew was French happened to be on our flight, happened to be on her way to an exam that afternoon in the city, which happened to be a nearly identical route to ours.  With her help we showed up at Lamark-Caulaincourt station, climbed the 112 steps, and gazed upon the beautiful Montmartre.  The view was idyllic.  Across the street was a café where dozens were enjoying the afternoon sun, drinking coffee and wine.  Between the two buildings was a steep set of stairs connecting Rue Lamark to it's norther neighbor.  The buildings were all uniformly tall with evenly spaced windows, first floor retail, and shutters, yet each having it's own unique character; the perfect example of the Parisian model.


Needless to say, I was completely happy before taking more than three steps on the sidewalk.


Our Hostel was on Square Caulaincourt off of Rue Caulaincourt.  Next door to our hostel was a restaurant with outdoor seating along the square and across the street was a bakery with the best gateau (cake) i have ever had.  The view from our room overlooked a large stair case lined with trees and street lights.


Duy and I did not exactly have the stereotypical tourist experience in France.  Our goal while traveling was to integrate into the culture.  If we were spoken to in French I would translate for him but continue to respond in French.  While my skill in French sufficed for survival, I was actually disappointed about my overall ability to communicate more than a simple food or drink order, where I was from, etc.


To keep this from going for pages I'll list a few highlights of our trip:


The first night we walked up to Sacré Coeur, a church built soon after the turn of the century in a composite of many styles with large masonry domes making it seem much more permanent.  It was built at the highest point in the city and has perhaps the best view save that from the top of the Eiffel Tower (which we did not actually end up going to).


The next day we went to le Musée d'Orsay, which is perhaps my favorite museum in the entire world.  The building is a renovated train station which has been beautifully transformed into the impressionist museum.  The central area is filled with sculpture, which is beautiful but I find less interesting.  The best part is that one can turn one corner and see Van Gogh, turn another and see Monet, turn another and see Renoir, etc.  All of my favorite painters in one museum; it's hard to complain about that.


After Musée d'Orsay we walked over to the Louvre, which can actually be seen from the windows in the d'Orsay, just across Le Seine.  We did not actually go in the Louvre, we only had a few days there and we figured that we'd rather spend them being a part of the city rather than looking at all the old stolen art (as my professor said the other day, "The Mona Lisa wasn't painted in France, how do you think it got there?").  We walked around the gardens for a while then proceeded to walk down the non-commercial part of the Champs-Elysée.  As perfect and grand as it was, I wasn't too fond of the area.  It seemed too big, too much was covered in gold, and there weren't enough people to fill the space.  It just wasn't exactly comfortable space.


The next day we walked and took the metro around to a few destinations we wanted to see, the most impressive of which was perhaps the Opera.  It is a beautiful building with incredible detailing.  The new opéra building near the Bastille is no where near as interesting or exciting.


For lunch we stopped at the restaurant famous for French Onion soup called Au Pied de Cochon.  This soup was sooooooo good.  It comes in perhaps the largest soup bowl I saw in Paris (which is about American sized, portions are smaller there) and it is completely covered in delicious cheese.  We're talking inches of cheese.  Below was the most delicious soup ever.  As Ferris Beuller says, if you have the means, I highly recommend you pick some up, it is so choice.


That evening we explored and walked down to the Moulin Rouge which was only a 15 minute walk from our hostel.  As interesting as that place could be, it is not at all.  For as much infamy as it may have had, it's hard to think of a place as morally questionable when people that look like your parents are paying €300 for a ticket to see a show there.  It's basically Paris' version of Vegas, condensed and perhaps slightly classier.


The following day we had to head out in the afternoon so we just walked around Montmartre and really explored the minor streets.  Up near the Sacré Coeur I decided to complete step one in becoming Parisian, I got two scarves*.  We also ran into the produce market from Amélie, saw some interesting buildings, and really got to know our neighborhood.  I can honestly I could see myself living there if such an opportunity would present itself.


*In the States I rarely consider a scarf a masculine fashion accessory, though since I've been in Europe, I've worn one almost every day.  They are awesome.  They can keep you warm or shade your neck from the sun and even rain, they make any outfit look 10-30% classier, not to mention they are cheap.  So I am all about the scarf now.  Three in my collection so far and growing.


Well, this post has gone on long enough.  I have uploaded some photos to Flickr which will aid in understanding why I love Paris so much.  So in summation: Paris=Favorite City.  Going to live there some day.

Madrid: The Wild West

If I'd had my camera with me, you'd be looking at the most delicious place of meat you've ever seen.  This thing was HUUUUGE.  Steak, Pork, Bacon, Sausage, everything that should ever comprise the meals of men.  It was sitting around and eating this that our friend from Boston who was circumnavigating the world declared Madrid as the Texas of Europe.  People are killing bulls for sport, eating big plates of meat, and drinking like crazy.  I don't know if Texas was the perfect comparison, but Madrid is definitely the Wild West.

Saturday, the 10th was the whole reason we wanted to be in Madrid, for football (I've found that when we call it soccer over here I can see the wheels of judgement rolling and the eyes of judgement staring, so from now on it's football or calcio (cal-chee-oh)).  That day we met a group of students from Kansas a few of whom met Duy, Greg and I for dinner at our favorite Tapas bar and proceeded to watch the game there for the first half and at an Irish Pub for the second.

We were packed into this little bar, everyone in there had a beer in hand, intently watching the game and shouting profanity in tens of languages* at the televisions; this is how football is meant to be watched.  While Madrid lost, this did not put a damper on the evening for the city.  It kept rolling right on through 6h00 (that's in the morning) like normal.

*While there were some well strung together sentences in French and Spanish that i could understand, the British are gods of the profane arts.  I have never heard such colorful profanity used so eloquently and articulately.  It was truly beautiful. 

I have found through traveling that the experiences shared with others seem to be much more rich than the places and activities by themselves.  Traveling is not all about going and seeing everything to put it in the scrap book, I believe it's about meeting and understanding people from all over the world, sharing experiences and cultures, even if they happen to be a neighbor at home, their shared experiences will enhance one's own.

We met a lot of new friends in Spain, some I will never see again, and with a few I have already planned trips to Smith Rock and Mt. Baker.  As I said earlier, English speakers meant the world to me in Spain, and these people were truly our best friends for the few days that we knew them.  Our first night there and for the next day we spend time with our friend from California who showed us around, spoke the language, and really eased the transition from the US to EU.  We joked that if not for her we'd probably have starved as we couldn't figure out the names of food.

On Sunday I met my new climbing and skiing buddy and a b.arch graduate, both from the States.  I think that day of all in Madrid I will never forget.  It started with a long trek around the city with Duy where we got to experience the beautiful parks and see new parts of the city we hadn't been to yet.  Back at the hostel I met a girl who had the 'stare of exhaustion'* and nearly immediately after a brief conversation asked if I wanted to go to a bull fight.  I would have been crazy to say no.

*You can always tell an American by their facial expression, their clothing, and their luggage.  Americans will laugh and smile much more in public not to mention make eye contact.  If eyes lock for more than a second you either need to go and talk to that girl (and hopefully you speak her language), or they are an American hanging on to every last syllable you have just uttered in their native language.  Americans are almost always wearing travel clothes, no scarves, and are the only people that ever wear shorts this time of year.  Americans will also either carry big backpacks (though so do the Germans so be careful) or large rolling suit cases.  As bad as we may stand out, we can always find each other in a pinch over here when we need the comfort of English and a little of our own culture.

The bull fight excursion and night that followed is perhaps the most impressive experience of Madrid.  The culture around the fight is incredibly deeply rooted in Spanish culture.  The amount of pride the spectators and competitors show is astounding.  A man's spirit can be crushed by a poor performance.  As bloody* as it may be, I can truly say that I appreciate the art of the matadors.

*Last side note: we didn't know they killed the bull!  That's right.  I don't know how we missed that little tid bit, but for all those who don't know, they kill the bull.  That's like, the whole point.

As much as Madrid might be like the Wild West with it's rambunctious partying, meat eating and animal slaughtering, it is a beautiful city.  The parks there are absolutely amazing, rivaling the beauty of Portland's, though in a much different style.  The buildings all have a consistency yet differ enough to give the city rhythm and flow that is very comforting and beautiful.  

It was a beautiful four days with great friends.  On to Paris.

Madrid: Lost in Translation

From the minute we arrived in Spain I realized that this whole survival thing might be a tad trickier than I expected.  When the customs agent didn't speak English, I began to regret my decision third trimester of sixth grade when I registered for French 1a.  After two days of confusion, broken conversations in Spanish and English, with the occasional Frenchman around to help me out, the definitive moment of the language barrier remains this: 


Duy, two girls from Kansas we met in the hostel, and myself in a bar after the Barça/ Real Madrid game.  The bar was clearing out as people headed to clubs and discos where the game wasn't being shown, when all of the sudden I hear a familiar bass line.  Immediately happiness strikes the group.  The first verse comes and we all sing in unison, "Just a small town girl, living in a lonely world.  She took the midnight train goin' anywhere".  Immediately this middle aged man sitting next to us turns and sings, "Just a city boy, born and raised in south Detroit, he took the midnight train goin' anywhere".


I've never been so happy to hear Journey.  The song ends, bro-style hugs are given to all who joined in, and then the middle aged man starts speaking to us in Spanish.  Fail.*


*Though he quickly realized that we knew every word not because we're avid Journey fans, but because US citizenship for my generation requires the knowledge of those lyrics.  He switched to perfect english, as it turns out he was from Tijuana.  


This week has been filled with moments like this.  Those brief moments of understanding have become so extremely precious.  When English speakers find each other it's a big deal.  A reunion of sorts.  It truly is amazing how much we take for granted comprehension and understanding of each other, and how beautiful communication truly is.

Le Grand Voyage.

made it. and didn't even eat raw eggs.

Folks, the moment we all have been waiting for has arrived.  I'm in Europe.  I'm currently sitting in the court yard of Cat's Hostel in Madrid.  Let me tell you, getting here wasn't easy.

It all started out in PDX.  Duy and I pass through security, no problems, show up at the gate, and wait for our flight.  Not more than 10 minutes later the pilot, the captain himself, walks out to inform us that we are going to be about an hour late cause some information which is vital to our flight is mid air, en route to Seattle, and once it gets there we should be fine.  Quickly that one hour turned into three.  We finally took off at 4pm PST.

Side note: To all those who worry about me pulling all nighters, and not sleeping for multiple days: architecture school is training for flying to Europe.  I want to give a special shout out to the Figone family, who happened to be in front of me on the plane.  They are champion sleepers at times when they should not be, I don't know how they did it.  Me and Duy on the other hand slept for maybe two hours total on the way over there, which turned quickly into a 24 hour adventure, but thankfully UO prepared me well.

When we arrived in Amsterdam we went through customs smoothly and proceeded to figure out how to get to Madrid, as we'd missed our direct connection.  But let me tell you, thank God for the Dutch.  There was a whole crew of gigantic people dressed in blue to help you every step of the way, and were extremely polite.  They even help you with the bins through security, so take that TSA.  When we arrived at the 'transfer station' we discovered I was heading to Paris and Duy was heading Lyon to meet connecting flights into Madrid, and both planes were full so we were forced to separate.

After a brief layover in Charles de Gaulle, I landed in Madrid, found Duy, and discovered neither of our checked bags had arrived.  Now, I could be like this guy* and complain about how rough our travel situation was, but truth of the matter is Delta/KLM/Air France was extremely helpful at all stages.  

Too tired to figure out the transit system, we took a taxi and arrived at the Hostel, and quickly realized that nearly no one speaks english.  Thankfully we've made some friends here in the hostel from the states, and have befriended a few of the restaurant owners who quickly figured out we're American and quickly figured out we have no idea what we're doing and have been extremely helpful.

*this is more of a shout out to one of the best writers around, your friend and mine, Truman Capps.  The Mozart of complaining.

As I finish up this post, our bags have arrived and we are good to go, enjoying all that is the beautiful city of Madrid.  Another update is soon to come, before we arrive in Paris.

Happy Birthday Mark!

The Year of Jeff

life.

In three days I'll be somewhere over the northern Atlantic, drinking a glass of wine and enjoying the free Wi-Fi courtesy of Delta/KLM, on route to Madrid, Paris and Rome, followed by my study abroad program in Vicenza.  I just finished a great winter term, refreshed about architecture with the help of Roxi Thoren, a bunch of great skiing, and some awesome times with friends old and new.


Life is good.


With that said, thank you parents, for the opportunity to 1) exist, 2) go to school, 3) go to europe, and really do all three at the same time.  


Here is the plan:
On April 8th I fly from PDX to Amsterdam, then Amsterdam to Madrid.  Duy and I stay in Madrid until the morning of the 12th, when we fly to Paris where our friends Suni, Lauren, Matt and Roshan will be  at the same time.  On the night of the 15th we fly to Rome and meet up with Sam, who we stay with until the program starts on the 19th.  We stay in Rome for another week, then head up to Florence for a week, I spend a weekend in Copenhagen, followed by the commencement of studio in Vicenza.


I'll try and update this blog about once a week, but probably more, as I'll have a lot to share.  As most of you know I talk a lot as it is without anything interesting to say, so once I'm over there I might be posting more often.  But until then, I will be updating my travel status via Twitter/Facebook.


My twitter account is linked on the sidebar or you can follow me here.


Here is my contact information:


Skype - jeff.matarrese
Email - jmatarre@uoregon.edu


Mailing address (once I arrive in Vicenza):
University of Florida
Vicenza Institute of Architecture
CP 622
36100 Vicenza, ITALY


I'll see you all in July.  Ciao tutti.