Has anyone heard of this or, God forbid, seen this? I think it's important to state upfront that it's not a bad movie. I only include the "God forbid" because you are all dear friends of mine who I don't want to see mind-fucked.
Let me explain.
Funny Games U.S. is a shot for shot remake of an Austrian film of the same name (minus the U.S. part, obviously). It opens on a happy little family - Mother, Father, and Son - on their way to their luxurious lake house in a well-to-do gated community. They quickly run into two young men, who are "guests" of their neighbours. The young men climb over their fence to ask if they can borrow some eggs. After what seems like a painstakingly long conversation - just as you start to scream inside your head "GET OUT! Get them out!" - the father's leg is broken and the whole family is gagged and bound. The rest of the movie is a truly disturbing depiction of these people desperately trying to survive. It's not a fun movie to watch. You will not enjoy yourself. You will cringe. You'll feel disgusted. But, it's a well made movie. It's well written, it's beautifully acted and it's well shot.
I hated it.
But, not for the reasons you might think. The theatre I was in started with maybe sixteen people. By the end of the movie, at least a third of them had walked out. I think these people were turned off by the violence and by the nature of the story. I didn't necessarily mind that (though it bothered me (because I'm human)). What really got to me was the way the movie gets into your head. The plot of the movie revolves around these two sadistic kids playing "games" with this capture family. But, what you don't necessarily realize throughout the film is that these guys are really playing a game with you, the viewer. There are a couple of moments where the lead sadistic kid breaks the fourth wall and talks directly to the audience. Asking us "who's side are you on" and inviting you to take part in the bet. At another point, when you think there might actually be hope for the family, he tells you "neither of us want it to go this way". A subtle remark that could be taken as "neither of the young men" or "neither the young men nor the audience" (I'm arguing the later here). At the end of the movie the kid stares straight into the camera with this insanely sick smile and it's not until that moment that you realize you've lost. You sat through the whole movie. You watched them kill that family, and that's what they wanted. Maybe you even wanted them to kill that family. The whole time they are daring us to make them stop, to walk out, to keep it from happening. But, by sitting there and watching it, we let it happen. This is confounded by the fact that it's a remake. A shot for shot remake. It's not like you didn't know what you were getting yourself into, if only you took the time to find out. It's kind of hard to explain, and I don't feel I am necessarily doing a good job. It's the only movie I can think of that has actually made me feel violated. I felt tricked. And I felt dirty.
Maybe that's just me. Maybe everyone else who sees it won't think twice about it. But I thought it was an interesting psychological commentary. I mean, we're all voyeurs - these movies are made because we like to watch people get hurt (or wrecked, or blown up, or eaten by zombies). But this movie takes that to a whole knew level. It's too real in it's simplicity and straight forward approach. It draws you in. It doesn't necessarily feel like a movie. In the same respect, I find it interesting that the collapse of the fourth wall doesn't take you out of the movie, as is usually the case. It actually brings you into it even more, which I think can be attributed to the over all style of the film.
I don't know. I'm kind of rambling at this point. I'll leave it at this: on the one hand, I did not enjoy this movie and would never recommend it. On the other, I found it very interesting/intelligent and would recommend it to a certain kind of person. That means this review is completely worthless and you'll have to decide for yourself if you want to watch it. If you do see it, let me know what you think.
Monday, April 14, 2008
Sunday, March 23, 2008
It's the best friends that need you
If you'd like to hear some of the more memorable exploits of my college life as told by some of my favorite people, you can check out a series of nine clips on youtube that Blair put together for me for my birthday.
I have to say, this is one of the best birthday presents ever. It made me so very happy - and sad - and I love it. It is a bit disconcerting, however, that the majority of the stories revolve around me being embarrassingly drunk. Fond memories, indeed.
I have to say, this is one of the best birthday presents ever. It made me so very happy - and sad - and I love it. It is a bit disconcerting, however, that the majority of the stories revolve around me being embarrassingly drunk. Fond memories, indeed.
Monday, March 17, 2008
From a monstrous email to Germ:
I've cracked my knuckles, stretched out the arms, and am ready to type. This is going to be a long one…
I can safely say Rome is the greatest place I have ever been. Having been to Italy twice now, I may even go so far as to say it's my favourite country I have yet to have the pleasure to visit. There is something about the culture - a certain vibe - that I can't seem to get enough of. If I spoke Italian, I could happily live there. Maybe I'll try to teach myself some of the language…
We arrived around 7 o'clock Tuesday night. As you know, Darren was gimp-tastic, so we didn't do too much walking around that night. I wanted him to rest up for the two walking tours we had scheduled the next day. There was no way I was going to let him crap out on me - not in Rome. That night, we had an amazing dinner at a little place not far from our hotel. I think one of my favourite things about vacations - particularly in Italy - is that food becomes an event. We sat outside this little restaurant for nearly four hours nibbling and sipping away. For dessert, we shared some sort of apple cinnamon meringue custard pie thing. We tried to get the waiter to explain to us exactly what it was, but we never figured it out. All I know is that it was delicious.
Wednesday, we got up bright and early and went over to the Castle of the Angels. Rather unfortunately, with Darren's gimpness, we didn't have the opportunity to walk from point A to point B, which I think would have been the way to go. Instead, we cabbed it everywhere, which got particularly expensive but was necessary. The Castle was really cool. The guide book I had with me (what? I'm the greatest tourist ever, and you know it) described the structure as a veritable hamburger of history. The place started as a mausoleum for Hadrian (I think) and then had bits and pieces added on for each of it's new uses. It spent most of it's life as a Papal stronghold for treasures, papers, and prisoners. One of the popes even walled himself up in it for a while when he thought his life was at risk. Because of this, there was a really crazy mix of run down Castle rooms next to wildly adorned rooms gilded and covered from floor to ceiling in frescos. I have never spent so much time admiring ceilings in my life as I did in Rome. They were all about the ceiling decorations. The castle had an adorable little café tucked away on one of the top levels. We sat and had a coffee while enjoying the views of the city. It was, I think, a pretty splendid way to start my first day in Rome.
We had the first of our guided tours at one. We hobbled our way down towards the Vatican (and I say "we" hobbled because I did develop a sort of sympathy limp) and proceeded to get incredibly lost. Well, actually, we weren't lost. I knew exactly where we were - I just didn't know where we were suppose to meet the guide. I had also managed to forget the piece of paper with said guides number on it. This is where I cried. Silly? Yeah. But I was really truly horribly upset that we had missed the tour and thought that I had completely ruined out trip within the first twelve hours. Fortunately, (after being incredibly rude to my mom on the phone because she can't work computers (for which I later apologised profusely)) I got the number and was able to get in touch with Matthew, our tour guide. It turns out, our "group" tour consisted of just Darren and I, so we hadn't missed anything nor had we been holding anyone up. So we met up with Matthew and he took us into the Vatican. Matthew is a Canadian Art History major studying within the Papal schools. In short, he knows absolutely everything you would ever want to know about anything within the Vatican walls. I could not have asked for a better guide (and he was pretty cute). We managed to get Darren a wheelchair, which was good for him and fun for me; I let him go roll down a lot of ramps and pushed him into a lot of walls. As far as what we saw, I am kind of at a loss for words. This is true with everything I saw - it was really just too incredible to take in.
Have you been inside the Vatican? I am going to assume you have and just start rambling about my favourite things. Again, the ceilings (in particular the Sistine Chapel - oh my sweet Jesus that's the definition of humbling) were mind-boggling. The Map Chamber was incredible. The Tapestry Hallway was amazing. All the statues, and tombs, and that giant bath tub! In the same room as the giant bath tub, is this absolutely amazing mosaic floor. Matthew explained how this Vatican found this floor in an ancient villa in South Italy and, since they liked it, they ganked it and brought it back with them. Apparently, that's how the Vatican got most of their stuff; through pillaging. I think my absolute favourite thing inside the Vatican had to be Raphael's
School of Athens. Freshman year, I took a ancient art history course and the School of Athens was one of the paintings we talked the most about. I have studied, in great detail, every inch of that piece of artwork and taken several tests specifically about this one piece of art. And there, in the Vatican, I turned a corner and came face to face with it. It was just there on the wall, or rather, it was the wall. It wasn't behind glass, it wasn't framed, it wasn't cordoned off by any security. It was just there. The freakin' School of Athens. I could have touched it if I had wanted to (but I obviously didn't as the last thing I would want to do is ruin some of the greatest work ever produced by touching it with my grubby, unworthy, hands). That pretty much just bowled me over. Even more than the Sistine Chapel. Don't get me wrong, that was indescribably amazing as well, but seeing that equally famous (if not more so) work did not have nearly the same effect on me. I also got really annoyed by all the people who used flash photography (that destroys frescos!) and insisted on talking very loudly even after guards asked them nicely to show respect and refrain from speaking in the chapel. I hate tourists - or, rather, I hate people who don't appreciate what they are experiencing. Oh! Speaking of: as we were leaving the Raphael rooms and heading towards the chapel I over heard another tour group conversation that went a little something like this:
Woman: What's back there? (indicating towards the Raphael rooms)
Tour Guide: Oh, nothing, just more museum. You don't need to see that, we go to the Sistine Chapel now.
JUST MORE MUSEUM?! I wanted to turn around and grab that woman by the shoulders and insist she DID need to see that. In retrospect, I probably should had - well, not grab her by the shoulders, but at least let her know what she was missing. Matthew said that a lot of the tour guides that take groups through there act like that. Apparently, they get paid more the more tours they do, so they rush everyone through. Again. I am so glad we found Matthew. After the Vatican Museums and the Chapel, we were walked through St. Peter's church. I now know this is the single largest church in the world, with St. Paul's in London (which we will climb to the very top of and look out over the city) coming in second. The Vatican has actually taken the time to mark along the centre aisle the lengths of the other large churches in the world just to show how much bigger theirs is. This is where I made an accidental penis joke and told Matthew that the Vatican, of all people, should know it is the size of the church that matters. I was going for a "it's the size of the faith" thing, but it came out really dirty and I felt bad for having accidentally blasphemed in the world's largest church. We then learned about how the Vatican found St. Peter's bones directly below the centre alter in the church after centuries of looking for his tombs in the surrounding fields. I find this a little too convenient and don't think I buy into it, but it's a good story nonetheless. Another good story: a crazy dude came into the church with a hammer and started pounding away at Michelangelo's Piety, knocking off an arm, a nose, and a few other chunks of beautiful artwork before security was able to tackle him. In the chaos, a bunch of tourist grabbed the pieces of broken marble and ran off with them. First off, who the hell strolls into a church and destroys ancient masterpieces for no apparent reason?! Secondly, who the hell then STEALS pieces of said masterpiece?! The Pope then issued a release in which he kindly requested that anyone who had a piece of the Piety return it to the church, and there would be no action taken against them. I think, even if you aren't religious, you sort of HAVE to obey the Pope. Apparently, a lot of other people agree with me on that one and every single piece of missing marble was returned and they were able to restore the sculpture. Unfortunately, they now keep it behind bullet proof glass and you can't get as good of a look at it as you could before.
We said our goodbyes to Matthew, and headed to our second group tour of the day. This one was a night tour of the city and, again, we found ourselves as the only members of the "group". This time, our guide was an (also cute) Irish writer named Shane, who just happened to know a lot about antiquity - and I mean A LOT. The sheer knowledge this guy has was seriously overwhelming. He asked us up front how much we already knew about Rome and how much we wanted to know. We explained we knew the basics and were really interested in knowing as much as he could tell us. This wasn't a mistake, per say, but he did then proceed to unload more names, dates, and details than I thought any one person could know. We walk through sort of the central part of the city, starting at the Monument of Victor Emanuel (also known as the Wedding Cake), stopping at Trajan's Column, the Trevi Fountain, Piazza Monteaiterro, the Pantheon (Oh My God, Breath Taking), Piazzo Navone, the Teatro di Pompeii, and the Area Sacra. Again, I am just going to assume you know what all these things are. At every stop, Shane imparted more knowledge on us than I could handle. I wish I had taken notes. He did a really incredible job of explaining all the connections between popes and emperors and architects and artists and how they all worked with each other and against each other to create what we see today. I wish I could explain the experience better, but really I am just at a loss for words. It was, simply put, perfect. Having two incredibly educated guys give you private tours of Rome is not a bad way of seeing the city.
Thursday, we spent the day at the Roman Forum, the Coliseum, and Palatine Hill. We didn't have a tour set up for this day, and ended up joining one once we got there. In retrospect, we should have asked Shane what he was doing Thursday, and paid him to be our educated friend for the day. Oh well. Instead, we had a fairly adorable old Italian man show us around the Coliseum. I can't say I really trust any of the tid-bits he told us, but I didn't really care. I was just excited to be standing inside the Coliseum. You could have told me puppies ate my mom and I still would have been happy. One thing that I would really liked cleared up - because my Latin teachers and this old guy seem to be in disagreement over this fact - is whether or
not they actually held Naval battles inside the Coliseum. Old dude made a pretty fair argument as to why they couldn't have; the arena was too small, there was no way to get the boats inside, and flooding the arena meant flooding the chambers below. But, at the same time, I find it hard to believe that every Latin/Classics teacher I have ever had lied to me. Wiki, here I come! After the Coliseum, the old dude passed us off to a smarmy dude in a track suite who then showed us around Palatine Hill. Just looking at this guy, I had zero respect for his knowledge of anything and proceeded to take a lot of pictures and pretty much ignore him completely. I think we had just been spoiled by Matthew and Shane, who had not only told us the basics but really went in depth and gave us some great information. Old dude and Smarmy dude, understandably, we playing to the lowest common denominator and really didn't tell us anything we didn't already know. And, occasionally, told us things we knew were wrong because Shane and Matt had taught us otherwise. Despite my snooty opinion of the tour guides, Palatine Hill was amazing. I think it has to be one of the prettiest places I have ever been. It's just gorgeous. I nerded out pretty hard core over this tiny little plaque in the ground that signified the "exact spot" Romulus founded Rome. I also liked the trees way more than I normal person should. I know, what a weird thing to like. But they were seriously awesome trees! Anyway, once we climbed back down the hill (which was a bit of an effort of Darren's part) we went to the meeting spot for the next part of the tour. We, along with about ten other people, had paid ten euro each to be lead through the Coliseum, Palatine Hill, and the Forum. However, whether it was a miscommunication or we were swindled, there was no third part of the tour. Darren and I waited around with a Scottish couple, a British kid, and a Mom/Daughter duo from D.C. for about twenty minutes before we decided to go it alone. All of us went together over to the forum and between the three guide books we had and my (in)ability to read Latin, gave ourselves our own tour. We didn't do too badly, actually. But, it was not nearly as informative as I would have liked it to have been. The people we were with were really nice/interesting to talk to. The mom of the American duo turned out to be from Dallas originally, so we bonded (I accidentally typed boned, and almost left it for humour's sake). They were excellent company, and it was really a shame we had to leave them so soon. Darren and I had to get to the airport by seven and we wanted to go back to the Pantheon one more time before we left. We spent our last two hours in Rome sitting at a little café just outside the Pantheon, eating wonderful food, sipping wine, and people watching. It was, I think, the perfect way to end the trip.
During the cab ride to the airport, my heart was literally heavy. You know that sinking feeling in your chest? I've gotten that both times I have left Italy. I think my body is trying to tell me something. As I said before, I just absolutely love Italy and, now, Rome. I was very sad to leave it and will (not might) be going back soon. I really would like to learn a little Italian and maybe spend two or three weeks over there. Want to go with me?
I can safely say Rome is the greatest place I have ever been. Having been to Italy twice now, I may even go so far as to say it's my favourite country I have yet to have the pleasure to visit. There is something about the culture - a certain vibe - that I can't seem to get enough of. If I spoke Italian, I could happily live there. Maybe I'll try to teach myself some of the language…
We arrived around 7 o'clock Tuesday night. As you know, Darren was gimp-tastic, so we didn't do too much walking around that night. I wanted him to rest up for the two walking tours we had scheduled the next day. There was no way I was going to let him crap out on me - not in Rome. That night, we had an amazing dinner at a little place not far from our hotel. I think one of my favourite things about vacations - particularly in Italy - is that food becomes an event. We sat outside this little restaurant for nearly four hours nibbling and sipping away. For dessert, we shared some sort of apple cinnamon meringue custard pie thing. We tried to get the waiter to explain to us exactly what it was, but we never figured it out. All I know is that it was delicious.
Wednesday, we got up bright and early and went over to the Castle of the Angels. Rather unfortunately, with Darren's gimpness, we didn't have the opportunity to walk from point A to point B, which I think would have been the way to go. Instead, we cabbed it everywhere, which got particularly expensive but was necessary. The Castle was really cool. The guide book I had with me (what? I'm the greatest tourist ever, and you know it) described the structure as a veritable hamburger of history. The place started as a mausoleum for Hadrian (I think) and then had bits and pieces added on for each of it's new uses. It spent most of it's life as a Papal stronghold for treasures, papers, and prisoners. One of the popes even walled himself up in it for a while when he thought his life was at risk. Because of this, there was a really crazy mix of run down Castle rooms next to wildly adorned rooms gilded and covered from floor to ceiling in frescos. I have never spent so much time admiring ceilings in my life as I did in Rome. They were all about the ceiling decorations. The castle had an adorable little café tucked away on one of the top levels. We sat and had a coffee while enjoying the views of the city. It was, I think, a pretty splendid way to start my first day in Rome.
We had the first of our guided tours at one. We hobbled our way down towards the Vatican (and I say "we" hobbled because I did develop a sort of sympathy limp) and proceeded to get incredibly lost. Well, actually, we weren't lost. I knew exactly where we were - I just didn't know where we were suppose to meet the guide. I had also managed to forget the piece of paper with said guides number on it. This is where I cried. Silly? Yeah. But I was really truly horribly upset that we had missed the tour and thought that I had completely ruined out trip within the first twelve hours. Fortunately, (after being incredibly rude to my mom on the phone because she can't work computers (for which I later apologised profusely)) I got the number and was able to get in touch with Matthew, our tour guide. It turns out, our "group" tour consisted of just Darren and I, so we hadn't missed anything nor had we been holding anyone up. So we met up with Matthew and he took us into the Vatican. Matthew is a Canadian Art History major studying within the Papal schools. In short, he knows absolutely everything you would ever want to know about anything within the Vatican walls. I could not have asked for a better guide (and he was pretty cute). We managed to get Darren a wheelchair, which was good for him and fun for me; I let him go roll down a lot of ramps and pushed him into a lot of walls. As far as what we saw, I am kind of at a loss for words. This is true with everything I saw - it was really just too incredible to take in.
Have you been inside the Vatican? I am going to assume you have and just start rambling about my favourite things. Again, the ceilings (in particular the Sistine Chapel - oh my sweet Jesus that's the definition of humbling) were mind-boggling. The Map Chamber was incredible. The Tapestry Hallway was amazing. All the statues, and tombs, and that giant bath tub! In the same room as the giant bath tub, is this absolutely amazing mosaic floor. Matthew explained how this Vatican found this floor in an ancient villa in South Italy and, since they liked it, they ganked it and brought it back with them. Apparently, that's how the Vatican got most of their stuff; through pillaging. I think my absolute favourite thing inside the Vatican had to be Raphael's
School of Athens. Freshman year, I took a ancient art history course and the School of Athens was one of the paintings we talked the most about. I have studied, in great detail, every inch of that piece of artwork and taken several tests specifically about this one piece of art. And there, in the Vatican, I turned a corner and came face to face with it. It was just there on the wall, or rather, it was the wall. It wasn't behind glass, it wasn't framed, it wasn't cordoned off by any security. It was just there. The freakin' School of Athens. I could have touched it if I had wanted to (but I obviously didn't as the last thing I would want to do is ruin some of the greatest work ever produced by touching it with my grubby, unworthy, hands). That pretty much just bowled me over. Even more than the Sistine Chapel. Don't get me wrong, that was indescribably amazing as well, but seeing that equally famous (if not more so) work did not have nearly the same effect on me. I also got really annoyed by all the people who used flash photography (that destroys frescos!) and insisted on talking very loudly even after guards asked them nicely to show respect and refrain from speaking in the chapel. I hate tourists - or, rather, I hate people who don't appreciate what they are experiencing. Oh! Speaking of: as we were leaving the Raphael rooms and heading towards the chapel I over heard another tour group conversation that went a little something like this:
Woman: What's back there? (indicating towards the Raphael rooms)
Tour Guide: Oh, nothing, just more museum. You don't need to see that, we go to the Sistine Chapel now.
JUST MORE MUSEUM?! I wanted to turn around and grab that woman by the shoulders and insist she DID need to see that. In retrospect, I probably should had - well, not grab her by the shoulders, but at least let her know what she was missing. Matthew said that a lot of the tour guides that take groups through there act like that. Apparently, they get paid more the more tours they do, so they rush everyone through. Again. I am so glad we found Matthew. After the Vatican Museums and the Chapel, we were walked through St. Peter's church. I now know this is the single largest church in the world, with St. Paul's in London (which we will climb to the very top of and look out over the city) coming in second. The Vatican has actually taken the time to mark along the centre aisle the lengths of the other large churches in the world just to show how much bigger theirs is. This is where I made an accidental penis joke and told Matthew that the Vatican, of all people, should know it is the size of the church that matters. I was going for a "it's the size of the faith" thing, but it came out really dirty and I felt bad for having accidentally blasphemed in the world's largest church. We then learned about how the Vatican found St. Peter's bones directly below the centre alter in the church after centuries of looking for his tombs in the surrounding fields. I find this a little too convenient and don't think I buy into it, but it's a good story nonetheless. Another good story: a crazy dude came into the church with a hammer and started pounding away at Michelangelo's Piety, knocking off an arm, a nose, and a few other chunks of beautiful artwork before security was able to tackle him. In the chaos, a bunch of tourist grabbed the pieces of broken marble and ran off with them. First off, who the hell strolls into a church and destroys ancient masterpieces for no apparent reason?! Secondly, who the hell then STEALS pieces of said masterpiece?! The Pope then issued a release in which he kindly requested that anyone who had a piece of the Piety return it to the church, and there would be no action taken against them. I think, even if you aren't religious, you sort of HAVE to obey the Pope. Apparently, a lot of other people agree with me on that one and every single piece of missing marble was returned and they were able to restore the sculpture. Unfortunately, they now keep it behind bullet proof glass and you can't get as good of a look at it as you could before.
We said our goodbyes to Matthew, and headed to our second group tour of the day. This one was a night tour of the city and, again, we found ourselves as the only members of the "group". This time, our guide was an (also cute) Irish writer named Shane, who just happened to know a lot about antiquity - and I mean A LOT. The sheer knowledge this guy has was seriously overwhelming. He asked us up front how much we already knew about Rome and how much we wanted to know. We explained we knew the basics and were really interested in knowing as much as he could tell us. This wasn't a mistake, per say, but he did then proceed to unload more names, dates, and details than I thought any one person could know. We walk through sort of the central part of the city, starting at the Monument of Victor Emanuel (also known as the Wedding Cake), stopping at Trajan's Column, the Trevi Fountain, Piazza Monteaiterro, the Pantheon (Oh My God, Breath Taking), Piazzo Navone, the Teatro di Pompeii, and the Area Sacra. Again, I am just going to assume you know what all these things are. At every stop, Shane imparted more knowledge on us than I could handle. I wish I had taken notes. He did a really incredible job of explaining all the connections between popes and emperors and architects and artists and how they all worked with each other and against each other to create what we see today. I wish I could explain the experience better, but really I am just at a loss for words. It was, simply put, perfect. Having two incredibly educated guys give you private tours of Rome is not a bad way of seeing the city.
Thursday, we spent the day at the Roman Forum, the Coliseum, and Palatine Hill. We didn't have a tour set up for this day, and ended up joining one once we got there. In retrospect, we should have asked Shane what he was doing Thursday, and paid him to be our educated friend for the day. Oh well. Instead, we had a fairly adorable old Italian man show us around the Coliseum. I can't say I really trust any of the tid-bits he told us, but I didn't really care. I was just excited to be standing inside the Coliseum. You could have told me puppies ate my mom and I still would have been happy. One thing that I would really liked cleared up - because my Latin teachers and this old guy seem to be in disagreement over this fact - is whether or
not they actually held Naval battles inside the Coliseum. Old dude made a pretty fair argument as to why they couldn't have; the arena was too small, there was no way to get the boats inside, and flooding the arena meant flooding the chambers below. But, at the same time, I find it hard to believe that every Latin/Classics teacher I have ever had lied to me. Wiki, here I come! After the Coliseum, the old dude passed us off to a smarmy dude in a track suite who then showed us around Palatine Hill. Just looking at this guy, I had zero respect for his knowledge of anything and proceeded to take a lot of pictures and pretty much ignore him completely. I think we had just been spoiled by Matthew and Shane, who had not only told us the basics but really went in depth and gave us some great information. Old dude and Smarmy dude, understandably, we playing to the lowest common denominator and really didn't tell us anything we didn't already know. And, occasionally, told us things we knew were wrong because Shane and Matt had taught us otherwise. Despite my snooty opinion of the tour guides, Palatine Hill was amazing. I think it has to be one of the prettiest places I have ever been. It's just gorgeous. I nerded out pretty hard core over this tiny little plaque in the ground that signified the "exact spot" Romulus founded Rome. I also liked the trees way more than I normal person should. I know, what a weird thing to like. But they were seriously awesome trees! Anyway, once we climbed back down the hill (which was a bit of an effort of Darren's part) we went to the meeting spot for the next part of the tour. We, along with about ten other people, had paid ten euro each to be lead through the Coliseum, Palatine Hill, and the Forum. However, whether it was a miscommunication or we were swindled, there was no third part of the tour. Darren and I waited around with a Scottish couple, a British kid, and a Mom/Daughter duo from D.C. for about twenty minutes before we decided to go it alone. All of us went together over to the forum and between the three guide books we had and my (in)ability to read Latin, gave ourselves our own tour. We didn't do too badly, actually. But, it was not nearly as informative as I would have liked it to have been. The people we were with were really nice/interesting to talk to. The mom of the American duo turned out to be from Dallas originally, so we bonded (I accidentally typed boned, and almost left it for humour's sake). They were excellent company, and it was really a shame we had to leave them so soon. Darren and I had to get to the airport by seven and we wanted to go back to the Pantheon one more time before we left. We spent our last two hours in Rome sitting at a little café just outside the Pantheon, eating wonderful food, sipping wine, and people watching. It was, I think, the perfect way to end the trip.
During the cab ride to the airport, my heart was literally heavy. You know that sinking feeling in your chest? I've gotten that both times I have left Italy. I think my body is trying to tell me something. As I said before, I just absolutely love Italy and, now, Rome. I was very sad to leave it and will (not might) be going back soon. I really would like to learn a little Italian and maybe spend two or three weeks over there. Want to go with me?
Thursday, March 6, 2008
Twenty Three
Ok, we need a new post; time to push Downer Debbie on down the page a bit.
As you all know, Tuesday was my Birthday. And it was, I have to say, a pretty damned good one. I spent Friday and Saturday at my Aunt's house in the country. It was also Will's (cousin's boyfriend) birthday, so we had a little joint celebration. There were decorations, presents, and cake. My mom mailed a big package of goodies for me and included, for reasons I don't necessarily understand, a Pin the Tail on the Donkey game. I think it was the first time in my entire life I have actually played that game - it only took twenty-three years.
Sunday was Texas Independence day and there was a bit of a shindig at the Texas Embassy. A group of us went around 2:00, expecting to have some lunch and our free drink and be on our way. They finally kicked us out eight hours - and eight margaritas - later. As Adam said, drinking Margaritas all day is a really great way to spend your Sunday - until you look in your wallet and realize your missing £40. I should really move somewhere more conducive to my lifestyle; that lifestyle being "poor".
Tuesday it snowed! In Texas anyway. I like to think that Texas got me snow for my birthday, but I just forgot to leave a forwarding address. All London got for me was freezing rain. Psh, I doubt I'll be inviting London again next year. I didn't really plan anything special, but I think that's exactly why I had so much fun. A couple of the girls from work and I shared a bottle of wine at my place before heading up to the weekly pub quiz. I feel I need to apologize on behalf of Laura and myself, as we were the only two to reach giggly drunk. For everyone else who was there, I hope we didn't embarrass you too much.
All in all, I have to say it was a pretty alright birthday. I sort of had this expectation that 23 would make me feel older. 22 just sounds so young to me. I didn't expect to wake up Tuesday morning to a whole new world or anything, but I did think that people might respect me a little bit more and maybe see me as less of a "kid". I was pretty excited about the 23 mark, that is, until people at work kept gasping at how young I am saying, "we thought you were 29!". Oh well, I guess one of these days I'll become an adult. I can't say I'm really in a big hurry...
I noticed the other day that I have managed to maintain the standard school holiday schedule since I've entered into the "real world". I took three weeks at Christmas, and I am taking next week off for Spring Break. Darren gets into town on Sunday, and we'll be spending three days in Rome next week. I'm incredibly excited about this trip. I've wanted to go to Rome since 8th grade, when I first started studying classics. I think my nerdometer may, in fact, explode. I'm taking the SLR on this one, so expect A LOT of pictures.
As you all know, Tuesday was my Birthday. And it was, I have to say, a pretty damned good one. I spent Friday and Saturday at my Aunt's house in the country. It was also Will's (cousin's boyfriend) birthday, so we had a little joint celebration. There were decorations, presents, and cake. My mom mailed a big package of goodies for me and included, for reasons I don't necessarily understand, a Pin the Tail on the Donkey game. I think it was the first time in my entire life I have actually played that game - it only took twenty-three years.
Sunday was Texas Independence day and there was a bit of a shindig at the Texas Embassy. A group of us went around 2:00, expecting to have some lunch and our free drink and be on our way. They finally kicked us out eight hours - and eight margaritas - later. As Adam said, drinking Margaritas all day is a really great way to spend your Sunday - until you look in your wallet and realize your missing £40. I should really move somewhere more conducive to my lifestyle; that lifestyle being "poor".
Tuesday it snowed! In Texas anyway. I like to think that Texas got me snow for my birthday, but I just forgot to leave a forwarding address. All London got for me was freezing rain. Psh, I doubt I'll be inviting London again next year. I didn't really plan anything special, but I think that's exactly why I had so much fun. A couple of the girls from work and I shared a bottle of wine at my place before heading up to the weekly pub quiz. I feel I need to apologize on behalf of Laura and myself, as we were the only two to reach giggly drunk. For everyone else who was there, I hope we didn't embarrass you too much.
All in all, I have to say it was a pretty alright birthday. I sort of had this expectation that 23 would make me feel older. 22 just sounds so young to me. I didn't expect to wake up Tuesday morning to a whole new world or anything, but I did think that people might respect me a little bit more and maybe see me as less of a "kid". I was pretty excited about the 23 mark, that is, until people at work kept gasping at how young I am saying, "we thought you were 29!". Oh well, I guess one of these days I'll become an adult. I can't say I'm really in a big hurry...
I noticed the other day that I have managed to maintain the standard school holiday schedule since I've entered into the "real world". I took three weeks at Christmas, and I am taking next week off for Spring Break. Darren gets into town on Sunday, and we'll be spending three days in Rome next week. I'm incredibly excited about this trip. I've wanted to go to Rome since 8th grade, when I first started studying classics. I think my nerdometer may, in fact, explode. I'm taking the SLR on this one, so expect A LOT of pictures.
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
Heart Sick
The last few days have been particularly hard. Why? I'm suffering from a pretty serious case of home sickness. I don't know where it came from - well, actually, that's not entirely true. I found out last week that I can't afford to come home in April like I had hoped. It will be at least another four months before I make it make to Texas. So, my sickness is not completely inexplicable but it's more than just that.
I miss Sunday night dinner and cartoon parties. I miss watching kung fu movies at John and Adam's. I miss the Alamo Draft house. I miss sing-a-longs. I miss downtown and sixth street. I miss cheap booze. I miss cheap anything, for that matter. I miss my mom. I miss home cooked meals. I miss having a roommate (specifically, roommate). I miss my cat. I miss my dog. I miss my car. I miss driving in the rain. I miss thunderstorms in general and the way the sky turns green and you can actually smell the brewing storm. I miss weekly lunches. I miss my brother. I miss my Skye-pie. I miss my dad's bad jokes. I miss shopping with Jackye. I miss the sun. I miss having a purpose (i.e. graduating college). I miss arts and crafts projects at Kelly's house. I miss the excitement I always felt as I exited 35, turned onto MLK and glided down that big hill. I miss burnt orange. I miss having more than three close friends. I miss always having someone to call. I miss the central time zone. I miss Jimmy Johns. I miss Thai Noodle House. I miss Vulcan Video - or any rental place. I miss the music capital of the world. I miss the Mythbusters and Mike Rowe and Futurama. I miss guitar hero. I miss people who miss guitar hero as much as me. I miss people whose idea of a spring break is watching How it's Made and playing Wii at the beach. I miss Shiner. I miss being able to say Shiner or double fisting without being laughed at. I miss John's house. I miss vanilla chia. I miss impromptu parties. I miss theme parties. I miss Halloween. I miss Tex-mex and Mexican Martinis. I miss watching reality TV marathons with Brandan and considering it a productive Sunday. I miss hobby lobby. I miss convenience. I miss feeling like I belong. I miss feeling loved.
Speaking of, I am a bit love sick too. I've just got a bit of a nostalgic, sentimental, longing to be in love thing going. I don't think this is detrimental to my well being, but I do think snuggling could go a long way toward improving my general mood.
It's just one of those days…
I miss Sunday night dinner and cartoon parties. I miss watching kung fu movies at John and Adam's. I miss the Alamo Draft house. I miss sing-a-longs. I miss downtown and sixth street. I miss cheap booze. I miss cheap anything, for that matter. I miss my mom. I miss home cooked meals. I miss having a roommate (specifically, roommate). I miss my cat. I miss my dog. I miss my car. I miss driving in the rain. I miss thunderstorms in general and the way the sky turns green and you can actually smell the brewing storm. I miss weekly lunches. I miss my brother. I miss my Skye-pie. I miss my dad's bad jokes. I miss shopping with Jackye. I miss the sun. I miss having a purpose (i.e. graduating college). I miss arts and crafts projects at Kelly's house. I miss the excitement I always felt as I exited 35, turned onto MLK and glided down that big hill. I miss burnt orange. I miss having more than three close friends. I miss always having someone to call. I miss the central time zone. I miss Jimmy Johns. I miss Thai Noodle House. I miss Vulcan Video - or any rental place. I miss the music capital of the world. I miss the Mythbusters and Mike Rowe and Futurama. I miss guitar hero. I miss people who miss guitar hero as much as me. I miss people whose idea of a spring break is watching How it's Made and playing Wii at the beach. I miss Shiner. I miss being able to say Shiner or double fisting without being laughed at. I miss John's house. I miss vanilla chia. I miss impromptu parties. I miss theme parties. I miss Halloween. I miss Tex-mex and Mexican Martinis. I miss watching reality TV marathons with Brandan and considering it a productive Sunday. I miss hobby lobby. I miss convenience. I miss feeling like I belong. I miss feeling loved.
Speaking of, I am a bit love sick too. I've just got a bit of a nostalgic, sentimental, longing to be in love thing going. I don't think this is detrimental to my well being, but I do think snuggling could go a long way toward improving my general mood.
It's just one of those days…
Monday, February 11, 2008
Monday, February 4, 2008
Naples, Italy
The Stereotype
The Highlights
- On first impression, Naples is a loud, crowded, dirty, mismatch of people, buildings, cars, animals, and garbage. While I am aware there is a garbage strike on (in fact, I was privileged enough to witness a garbage riot on town hall in which people threw trash at politicians), you are given the distinct impression that litter is not a new problem. There are dilapidated, graffiti ridden apartments butted up against modern glass front business complexes. Buildings are painted all shades of red, yellow, and green. Every building is covered in balconies and every balcony is covered in hanging laundry and hanging plants. The streets have no lanes and the cars zip along wherever they want, and as fast as they want (usually faster than you would have thought possible). But mixed into and made from all of that, is a real feeling of life and culture. Italians are loud, passionate, and shake their hands a lot when they talk. Every overdone stereotype of the accent is spot on. Italians seem to always be in a hurry and completely apathetic at the same time. They embrace slow walks and long lunches. They use their horns too much. There are scooters every where and I love to watch them inch down the street with a hairdryer between their legs and say "ciao". (That's an Eddie Izzard joke for ya). The woman are beautiful and the men have no shame; I was asked out on three dates and proposed to twice. It's a hectic, "in your face" kind of town that you really do have to see to believe.
The Highlights
- I went to dinner my first night at this little, well, Italian place recommended to me by the B&B guys. There were only three people in the restaurant, the owner, the chef, and me. I told the owner to order his favourites for me and I got some of the most amazing fresh steamed clams and oysters on linguini, some interesting (but still tasty) fried sardines with roasted eggplant in a vinegar gravy, and a free bottle of wine. The food was amazing, but what really made the night was the ambiance. Me, alone with two happy old men, watching Walker Texas Ranger in Italian. When it first came on, they turned to me and said "Chuck Norris! Boom, boom!". I could have gotten on a plane back to London right then and there. It pretty much made my life.
- Pompeii was one of the more incredible things I have seen in my life. I was first and foremost surprised by the size of the place. For some reason, I was expecting a few ruins here and there and maybe some display cases of the more important artefacts. But, no. Not at all. It's an entire city - square grid blocks of roads and alleyways, sidewalks, crosswalks, remnants of temples, government buildings, gladiatorial arenas, graveyards and tombs, houses, restaurants, theatres, launder mats, fish markets, meat markets, bath houses, graffiti (both political slander and immature jokes), and even swimming pools - amazingly preserved and waiting to be explored. I got there rather early in the day and would often walk through the ancient city streets for twenty minutes without seeing another living soul - except, of course, for the many stray dogs that make the dead city their home. It's such a humbling and invigorating feeling to see and touch the things that people in the 6th century B.C. built and used in everyday life. It kind of blows your mind.
- As is now a tradition when it comes to Shelley sightseeing alone, I partook in another Hop-on-hop-off bus tour. I've decided this really is one of the best ways to see a big city when you're alone, prone to getting lost, and short on time. The tour took me through the main squares of the town, stopping at the most significant churches, catacombs, castles and museums. I took the time to explore the Museco Archelogico di Napoli - where all the exciting Pompeii and Herculeum finds end up. They had an "erotic exhibit" featuring a few of the fetishes and penis jokes antiquity had to offer. Be on the look out for a fabulous photography of my favourite penis piece. The tour also took us up to the highest point of the city where I sipped my café while overlooking the entire bay.
- If I had to pick a down side of my Naples experience it would be this: I can never enjoy pizza again. I've been trying to think of a way in which I can describe the absolute perfection of the margarehita pizza without making it sound like an overstatement. I don't think I can. You'll just have to accept it when I tell you that the tangy-sweetness of the tomatoes, the bubbly pockets of buffalo mozzarella, and the fresh basil leaves combined into a singular tastes explosion that can only be described as pure happiness. This is not an exaggeration, it is simply fact. I can only hope that you believe me and are, one day, lucky enough to eat pizza in Naples.
The Conclusion
- Many of the people I talked to were surprised Naples was my first Italian city. They found it very odd that I didn't start with Rome, Venice, or Florence. In fact, many of the locals even apologized for Naples being my first impression of Italy and implored me to visit the "nicer cities". I understand their point, I think. Naples isn't the "normal" Italian city. They have their own language, they have their own style, they don't have any of the huge attractions or monuments but, despite what they say, I think Naples is fantastic and I am so glad I went.
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