tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-39027460915136321042024-03-13T10:58:22.071-07:00i speak fluent cappuccinochrissy farrellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09022398481968427868noreply@blogger.comBlogger12125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3902746091513632104.post-75837589901624237712010-05-09T02:24:00.001-07:002010-05-09T02:28:19.591-07:00Why do people really go to Naples?<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_suXgX2BYOhvgTwYHi2IPByY-vYkHzt-7C4ZfLPf75tH3sqmqsNWeG0Qvnd3NWOQ7nDf-GK9YSSDfHyHARRIeGxifWuIynP4_EPIlkFu2aC4CijHkfkUnwNOBUcNijhqa0HmUPCy0XK8/s1600/30223_388642951779_729556779_4385416_7676677_n.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_suXgX2BYOhvgTwYHi2IPByY-vYkHzt-7C4ZfLPf75tH3sqmqsNWeG0Qvnd3NWOQ7nDf-GK9YSSDfHyHARRIeGxifWuIynP4_EPIlkFu2aC4CijHkfkUnwNOBUcNijhqa0HmUPCy0XK8/s320/30223_388642951779_729556779_4385416_7676677_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5469198976438923202" /></a><p class="MsoNormal">Through the grapevine I heard that Naples or “Napoli” was a very interesting city.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Not to be judgmental, but it is known as one of the dirtier and more dangerous cities in Italy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I wanted to go there for one reason, and one reason only. Pizza.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>You haven’t had pizza until you have ordered the extra cheese margherita pizza from L’Antica Pizzeria Da Michele. </p> <p class="MsoNormal"> This place, has been a Neapolitan treasure for years, but was made even more famous by a book some of you might have read called “Eat Pray Love.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Author Elizabeth Gilbert explains the pizza best:</p> <p class="MsoNormal">“Pizzeria da Michele is a small place with only two rooms and one nonstop oven.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>It’s about a fifteen-minute walk from the train station in the rain, don’t even worry about it, just go.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>You need to get there fairly early in the day because sometimes they run out of dough, which will break your heart.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>By 1:00 PM, the streets outside the pizzeria have become jammed with Neapolitans trying to get into the place, shoving for access like they’re trying to get a space on a lifeboat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>There’s not a menu.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>They have only have two varieties of pizza here—regular or extra cheese.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>None of this new age southern California olives-and-sun-dried-tomato wannabe pizza twaddle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The dough takes me half a meal to figure out, tastes more like Indian nan than like any pizza dough I ever tried.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>It’s soft and chewy and yielding, but incredibly thin.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I always thought we only had two choices in or lives when it came to a pizza crust—thin and crispy, or thick and doughy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>How was I to have known there could be a crust in this world that was <i>thin</i><span style="font-style:normal"> and doughy? Holy of holies!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Thin, doughy, strong, gummy, yummy, chewy, salty pizza paradise.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>On top, there is a sweet tomato sauce that foams up all bubbly and creamy when it melts the fresh buffalo mozzarella, and the one sprig of basil in the middle of the whole deal somehow infuses the entire pizza with herbal radiance, much the same way one shimmering movie star in the middle of a party brings contact high of glamour to everyone around her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>It’s technically impossible to eat this thing, of course.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>You try to take a bite off your slice and the gummy crust folds and the hot cheese runs away like topsoil in a landslide, makes a mess of you and your surroundings, but just deal with it. (p. 80)</span></p> <img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCxtdWK-S8KcKaN5efX_xNpUPnhYotXmpPJ0j-ftZ-I_01HKK8MRh2SsGXe-HVXJsZw80Z2eDnI5cBv69eyQz24X8B8G39YEmxwFZMalfhYpvvs0jDacF6Ji2qvLiMwzxsVyl4DMD3SPg/s320/30223_388642921779_729556779_4385412_6675404_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5469199100319336050" /><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes">When you enter the restaurant, they sit you down and you order.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>They have a limited menu, “margherita, margherita with extra cheese, coke, fanta, and nastro azzuro.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>We all ordered cokes and the extra cheese margherita pizza.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>When the pizza arrived at our table we were all in shock.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>It was exactly how Elizabeth Gilbert described it, this melty mess of cheese and dough, that oozed everywhere with each bite you took.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Suffice it to say, I was in heaven for the next 20 minutes and the table was completely quiet.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">If you are going to Rome, it is literally worth it to take the train to Naples just to have this pizza, you won’t regret it!</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Ciao for now,</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Chrissy </p> <!--EndFragment-->chrissy farrellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09022398481968427868noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3902746091513632104.post-56203318851190754122010-05-03T23:55:00.000-07:002010-05-04T00:08:45.963-07:00Ireland: Where the Farrell's hail<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBEyOHz2WGUKqxRx3iJfYhTnhKVUF98KvsaVBwWG_DlfPpc2CMBrL4rHXiF_bPqKe7C2R3S5EAbMJGXpWX1nHjrfK-QCQLQ6hAc5hyphenhyphenvtkecou4vHDQRqzd6mIfYQqBoeKEEwYo-KTITr0/s1600/25665_1299634175340_1364970060_30823836_1361727_n.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBEyOHz2WGUKqxRx3iJfYhTnhKVUF98KvsaVBwWG_DlfPpc2CMBrL4rHXiF_bPqKe7C2R3S5EAbMJGXpWX1nHjrfK-QCQLQ6hAc5hyphenhyphenvtkecou4vHDQRqzd6mIfYQqBoeKEEwYo-KTITr0/s320/25665_1299634175340_1364970060_30823836_1361727_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5467308106027973794" /></a>Though I am Irish, I never really considered myself to have the so-called “Irish pride” that is represented throughout the entire city of Boston, as well as has recently infiltrated Boston College (since when did BC designate themselves as an Irish Catholic school? Haha) However, having visited Ireland with the last name Farrell, I can truly say that I now understand what all the fuss is about. (Don’t worry Italy, I didn’t forget about the second half of my genes, and I still love you)<p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">First of all, Farrell was everywhere. Farrell stores, Farrell signs, Farrell trucks, Farrell streets. You name it, there was a Farrell for it. So clearly, with the last name Farrell, it was like I belonged there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>And I couldn’t go to Ireland without trying the beer…</p> <img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 234px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAWJsdqYSb2i1gEIzXJP6BziTaeM40CFsMk3f26rGUhuEfkpjwarYkbXIIrX41Hut-mHRrmV2Z4yA5VmTLpGu42LWoYDZQu-vEioAuU1FjnCOw-DSeO5LTNUVoofrav5YKznh5lZ7hyphenhyphenH4/s320/23982_1274384310643_1560990407_30736237_3273925_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5467307116340354610" /><p class="MsoNormal">Pints of Guinness greeted us in Galway.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Though I had never had Guinness before, I was open to trying this thick, dark beer (it was the Irish thing to do!).</p><p class="MsoNormal">Everyone kept saying, “Guinness is better in Ireland!” So I decided to have a pint, which led to another pint..then another pint..then another..and another.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>By the end of the fourth pint I was so full that I couldn’t possibly have another.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Suffice it to say, I have found a new love for Guinness.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">In the morning, Lindsay and I woke up early and headed to the Cliffs of Moher.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Not having any idea what to expect, I was in for the shock of my life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I could truly not believe my eyes when I peered over the edge of the winding coast that formed the Cliffs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>They are without doubt the coolest natural sight I have ever seen in my life.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Pictures could not do it justice, you just have to go there, trust me.</p><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTElCZMGFy5NkoNtkiY6KOLI0XVphS_xsL9Hto3CRV08Y93-VanAb1wBTyWUc3GnbVV81V6TWpWRNmVz7gFh31iL87i8y2Fv-TXsTGUxchYVBeKtj3Ggr8915O_krPCC6c77892Hb7DtI/s320/25665_1299634375345_1364970060_30823841_1385357_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5467307292162900626" /><p class="MsoNormal">We spent the rest of our time in Galway by wandering the cute little town, and it is there that I stumbled upon the original claddagh ring shop.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>When I was little, my dad bought me a claddagh ring that I loved dearly.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>One day when I was playing in my backyard, the ring slipped of my finger and was lost forever.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I never got another ring, but when I saw the original shop, Thomas Dillions, I had to have one.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I walked in and the old couple that owned the shop spent nearly one hour finding me a little gold claddaugh ring that would fit my finger perfectly.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Before we headed back to Italia, Lindsay and I wanted to spend the day in Dublin, in particular visiting Trinity College, Old Temple Bar, and of course, the Guinness Factory.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Dublin was a really fun city, and I wish I had gotten to spend more time there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>However, within the few hours that I was there I can officially say that I am a certified Guinness bear pourer, which is quite a miraculous feat if you ask me.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"></span></p><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSHDzyBlGqoLldNNsE8LcCOTU6b71QP01QEcxqi1NCr7aKX8sNfRkFxxNFDFMQHJ4KCAL9uKQfOpJFUZFpIxZwHfX4UpxBg9HLvdypgz_OuQLbPMostz-pXJSl4J617-U1p_mU-70bWtU/s320/25665_1299637295418_1364970060_30823859_4447490_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5467307474984171666" /><p class="MsoNormal">ciao,</p><p class="MsoNormal">chrissy </p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p> <!--EndFragment-->chrissy farrellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09022398481968427868noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3902746091513632104.post-70069802884474783512010-04-18T23:51:00.000-07:002010-04-19T00:04:44.441-07:00J'adore Paris<div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirXsDCDe7wr-SR8RX4ZYL7FBmISDxcvm0Bf2a0E9F_tHguIGut-Z4YzJFS_HuI3JlMua9RzpY0zk7Jfh3el89lEBrwfSZN8p4hT6YB5E2gkox7EBARuC7_Aa688-mKf6AXtSua5wDSSn8/s1600/25665_1305937892929_1364970060_30839965_8142443_n.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 166px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirXsDCDe7wr-SR8RX4ZYL7FBmISDxcvm0Bf2a0E9F_tHguIGut-Z4YzJFS_HuI3JlMua9RzpY0zk7Jfh3el89lEBrwfSZN8p4hT6YB5E2gkox7EBARuC7_Aa688-mKf6AXtSua5wDSSn8/s320/25665_1305937892929_1364970060_30839965_8142443_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5461739319645423554" /></a>I am not quite sure when my obsession with Paris began, but my Aunt Lorraine doesn’t call me a Francophile for nothing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>If you ever saw my bedroom, you would understand that I am living under the false pretenses that I am Marie Antionette—the woman is my idol.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>So naturally, I was thrilled for this leg of my spring break.<br /><p class="MsoNormal">After having extensively traveled Paris before, (an Arlene Farrell vacation in which every minute was planned and not one museum or sight missed) it was nice to just be there without the added pressure of running around trying to see everything in 3 days.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"></span></p><p class="MsoNormal">The first day we were there, I met up with my roommate from BC, Mary Elaine, who took us on a walk all the way from the Louvre, down the Champs Elysees to the Arc de Triomphe.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Though this was a long walk, it was nice to catch up with M.E. and plan the rest of our afternoon.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>M.E., knowing I have both a sweet tooth and a weakness for chocolate and coffee, decided to take me to a place she discovered that specialized in both.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>We sat at a small table in the back of the Foucher, and chatted as we sipped our cappuccinos and inhaled the most incredible chocolate I have ever tasted.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"></span></p><p class="MsoNormal">That night, we all met for drinks at a bar called The Frog & Princess.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Drinking pint after pint, it was fun hanging out with my roommates M.E. and Ariane. I crawled back to our hostel in the wee hours of the morning, only to catch a quick snooze before heading the most amazing place on earth.</p><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9Mf6KQb7hN6SYjKRR3iSXqOG_-Nu_b5tVrFVXM0ZIbwmw_6sb6QN_HqjupKdenBxTuXtEw1VVQ2Dod6xubATQIRXiWjSLztuDCWpCjxngKIW5luQ42D1-B55WMhc4PFDsCYMqNDHw888/s320/25665_1299630975260_1364970060_30823812_6527825_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5461738818009999426" /><p class="MsoNormal">Versailles.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"></span></p><p class="MsoNormal">I dragged my friend Jack out of bed bright and early and told him that we were going to Versailles.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>With surprisingly little fight from him, we were on the train by 9 am.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The man at the front desk of our hostel told us that there were two stops that read “Versailles” and that we should get off at the second one.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Still exhausted and dare I say hungover from the night before, we obviously got off at the first stop, and realized we were stranded in the outskirts of Paris.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Luckily, we ran into a young Parisian who told us how to get there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>5 minutes goes by then 10.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Jack and I both look at each other and wonder where on earth this guy was taking us.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Then we saw the large black and gold gilded gates; we made it.</p><p class="MsoNormal">Versailles is so much more amazing than I had ever anticipated—so much bigger, so much more beautiful, so much more exciting, and just indescribable.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>We went straight to the ticket office for we saw a gigantic line forming.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>An entrance fee is 18 euros, however free if you are a student in Paris or a student in the EU.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Being the talker I am, I show the ticket office a picture</p><p class="MsoNormal"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRaEXmVjr6Bca2p4v2ewXd7EBmOf7wK9l_IhA9hxLBoyeZExePWH-X5LRFzkj1PogdOUGNTw76El_Zu4neAt05ruMT7wt0AYz9yQUImGuMPnKzimPobMi91rZDGoVKdL7heT-kZL9A_GU/s320/25665_1299630895258_1364970060_30823810_6742993_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5461740708597164706" />First, we toured the main residence.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I had two favorite rooms: the hall of mirrors and the chapel.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Both were not to be believed in person.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Though the palace was so crowded with tourists, Jack and I had so much fun wandering the many rooms of Versailles.of my Italian visa, and he lets me go in for free (Versailles became even that much better at this point).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Jack and I got the tickets that would allow you to go anywhere of the property, including Marie Antionette’s estate.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Next, we decided to go to the summer residence and Marie Antoinette’s estate.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Now, this is a serious walk (which we were not aware of) however Jack was such a good sport.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>He knew that I was dying to see Marie Antoinette’s palace, so he didn’t complain once.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>He actually told me that we would stay as long as I needed to in each room..what a great friend!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"></span></p><p class="MsoNormal">Marie Antoinette’s room was white floral, and she had a little sleigh bed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>It was so calm and serene, and was a break from the elaborate styling and exquisite taste of King Louis. More than that, it was so fun to see where Marie Antoinette spent most of her time, reading and taking care of her children.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"></span></p><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwqdRkKHyeSQRL-pEh57EIBIf_OyJtBPFGOLQ-Nui92mn6yusKPFjSuKYZ3HBsr3tVuGM_Lb0LDr0ZCSydiEfWIAHq2cD8tZjW2y2ZWnoPiIveSvDFC4yKXqOvxOHr6-BTiVqbR5V394E/s320/26201_1306994672074_1146750316_31007456_4019664_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5461739746008243890" /> <p class="MsoNormal">When we got back to Paris, we went to the top of the Eiffel Tower, and overlooked all of Paris.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I couldn’t help but remember my first trip to the top on our family vacation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>It was so cold, windy and rainy, and I convinced my parents and Meghan that it was a good idea to go to the top.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Meghan was shaking, Mom was wet, and Dad was cold.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I was the only one with a huge smile on my face.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Needless to say, it wasn’t the best of times, however looking back on it I laughed out loud.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>The most rewarding part of that rainy trip to the top of the Eiffel Tower was the Prada shoes that were promised to Meghan when we got to the bottom—naturally I received a pair too, thanks Dad!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">For my last day in Paris, I decided to meet Ariane for a day of shopping.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>First, <span style="color:black;">however, she had to take me to her favorite place to eat in Paris.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>On the small nondescript rue des Rosiers, stands the restaurant L’as du Fallafel.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>The falafel was the best I had ever had and I highly recommend it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>With both a passion for fashion and falafel, this was an unbeatable combination for a successful and amazing day. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Then we said our goodbyes for it was </span>au revoir Paris, and hello Ireland.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"> <o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"> <o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span></p> <!--EndFragment-->chrissy farrellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09022398481968427868noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3902746091513632104.post-84280472966914708002010-04-15T09:34:00.001-07:002010-04-15T09:41:18.037-07:00Praha<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO2aXbPTLQ9Eqrfm41tdEjxU3fUi5N-wsQobK79YKYl88v4lFx7Ds9QRFSk7DDYMrgig86UXo34LtHvx70u0Ij9kTaP1nMBA4QzhoWrHngnZEgTwB-i-nHeQCns9EZAk-Na9vK9BCXozA/s1600/25665_1299621375020_1364970060_30823745_7512589_n.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO2aXbPTLQ9Eqrfm41tdEjxU3fUi5N-wsQobK79YKYl88v4lFx7Ds9QRFSk7DDYMrgig86UXo34LtHvx70u0Ij9kTaP1nMBA4QzhoWrHngnZEgTwB-i-nHeQCns9EZAk-Na9vK9BCXozA/s320/25665_1299621375020_1364970060_30823745_7512589_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5460405193141665602" /></a><br />The land where Pilsners come by the pint, goulash is the meal of choice, and crowns are the currency.<br /><p class="MsoNormal">When I decided to go abroad, the one place I desired to travel to more than any other place was Prague.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>It wasn’t looking like I was going to make it there until my roommate Anastasia decided that it would be a great way to start our spring break.</p><p class="MsoNormal">When we arrived in Prague, we were greeted by our friends Lucy and Maria who whisked us off to an opera at the National Museum.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Having become a fan of opera after spending this semester studying it, I was excited to show off my knowledge.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>It was a compilation of what I used to call “dinnertime music.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The sound of Mozart’s Four Seasons and other famous works that our family used to listen to every night at dinner flooded our ears, and left us speechless.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">After the opera, we met our other friends Emily and Katie for a traditional Czech meal accompanied of course by Pilsner.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>After dinner we decided to call it an early night as we wanted to make the most out of the next day.</p><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij2PxHUWBS1X5xHo22VesNZN0hbK7KvHErv4QJq0L9jsiYpC_IsMP9mC4kG2NH-h7mzCHh_BBrk5aNjvpnBa6Rtn4BWhJPDBMWR7YFPyKzS0cx-V4vclbA9iyYsbWdVvUa6zlNyx3opWM/s320/24111_10150164354085307_563500306_11591345_3721464_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5460403915456956322" />We woke up early and went to the designated meeting place.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>A beacon of light—STARBUCKS.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I was overwhelmed with joy as I sipped my grande non-fat iced latte, a novelty after having been in Italy the past couple of months, where a large coffee doesn’t exist, and putting skim milk in coffee has yet to be discovered.<br /><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWzk0AD0cD-BZ5-co09Pc3cGugyeefRGX9gDchFaTFpgbBkBc-r6cTC07EMP-XlwlHtP7ap6clitF_OOqoliGM31etRzxKx1X_MlvdgCR5iKUS70KOOCsjtgB2qW6rXcwt7m4jntz1wL0/s320/24111_10150164357325307_563500306_11591562_119101_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5460404661193366930" />It is remarkable how much sightseeing can drain four girls, and at around 2 pm, Emily pulled out a list of restaurants.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>One word: Mexican.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>We hurried to this amazing Mexican restaurant where we ordered several plates of nachos, and had delicious fajitas.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>It was heavenly.We literally manhandled Prague, visiting the Old Prague Castle, Wenceslas Square and the Astronomical Clock, as well as walking across the Charles Bridge, You name it, and we did it.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>The most amazing part about Prague is its rich architectural history.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>It is a city that has yet to be bombed, so there are buildings from almost every century that are in amazing condition.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal">We spent the rest of the afternoon wandering the streets in Prague, purchasing things such as homemade Czech lotion made out of wine and beer (weird but actually quite moisturizing), and, of course, eating.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"></span></p><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW8Jq_JhwrPocktrKexCmXlVSolJHTy2OP2QnUStIbwVn4Vs82cHKyNKY0UEvsw5CrCjEtmpG0HPD82rytqDZ0SxK8PRQ7f6hRqtd37zsHFiVi4xl8R_XAVDRpIpXK2qV25z9-aM5Vk4I/s320/24111_10150164361040307_563500306_11591739_5778307_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5460404331077200546" /> <p class="MsoNormal">Some girls left to go back to Italia, and the others continued their spring break traveling Eastern Europe.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I, however, had the pleasure of staying one more night in Prague, and did so in style thanks to Mom and Dad.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>They got me a room at the Intercontinental, where I spent the night in luxury.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Then, it was off to Paris.</p><br /><!--EndFragment-->chrissy farrellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09022398481968427868noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3902746091513632104.post-79893936766417134752010-03-13T11:18:00.000-08:002010-03-13T11:31:33.156-08:00Losing £’s<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia, serif; ">On Wednesday night I decided to be spontaneous and book a flight to London for the following morning. Carpe diem, right?</span><br /> <p class="MsoNormal"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">For those of you who do not know, I am one of the worst travelers, besides of course my dad. Nothing ever seems to go smoothly. So, in typical Farrell fashion, I arrive to the airport where I was informed that my flight reservation was never confirmed, and they had no record of my booking. I was determined to get to London, so I told Lufthansa airlines that I was getting on the next flight. They said fine and I was off.</span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">When I arrived in London, I was greeted by my roommate Tina, who rushed me to drop off my bags, and we headed out to the Tower of London. By the time we got there, it was</span></span></span></p><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOaZw4hmGFzjb-TjVhWPL2TN58CWRAZb3LcbKcmdazlKvh91NztAg4EcnqMffBsKbdA4ErJvRffnj3rUmHRdarWqs8arz9prBX1NEV1Z-m6wXOix5RbdzFDS8q7rSfUGcdhaadiGxUetc/s320/25868_1276084310412_1479090225_30807005_2736633_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5448200918775309362" /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia, serif; ">45 minutes until closing. To get into the Tower of London you must pay 18£, and the guy in the ticket booth (approximately our age) said it wasn’t worth it. Tina read the sign on the window, where she discovered that it was only 5£ for children under 5 to get in. She then smiled and asked, “Is there anyway we could be 5 years old for the next 45 minutes?” With that he said “Do you have 2£?” And the next thing we know we are perusing the crown jewels for the bargain price of 1£ each. We documented for the nonbelievers. </span><p class="MsoNormal"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">After the Tower of London, we went back to see Alex and Liz (my roommates we were staying with). We cooked dinner, and then went out to this amazing club. We didn’t stay out too late—for Tina and I wanted to tackle the city tomorrow, and we did just that.</span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">We got up at 9 am and were ready to go. We started with Westminster Abbey, where we spent a majority of the morning. We then headed to the British Museum to see the Rosetta Stone, and Cleopatra. Afterwards, we met Alex and Liz, and ventured to Buckingham Palace. It wouldn’t be a trip to London without shopping, so we hit up Oxford Circus for some much needed retail therapy. </span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">That night, we went to a club called Proud, which is an old abandoned barn. It was very cool, and we were VIP.</span></span></span></p><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEga191eucV5bbhZwTNO-LDC6Ev06jEAk5Z531721KbOcekZtVXgh8NVTqLUghCMe0SHOuwuaROJ9X1yCh8jFMQfzQJnLNDuz73XGtn5lOcodZB2pY7XSBo9MUr7Ce4qmY4G2gK59unaqBY/s320/25868_1276086150458_1479090225_30807042_4551276_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5448201864315210882" /> <p class="MsoNormal"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">The next morning we went to Portobello Road. I was determined to find something special there, and I spent all day looking for the perfect little something. While we looking around one stand, I saw a ring out of the corner of my eye. It was in an itty-bitty heart-shaped box. I asked the woman if I could try it on. It was a garnet ring from 1950s, and was exactly what I had been looking for. It has had a new home on my left middle finger ever since. </span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">We decided to be touristy and head to Abbey Road, where we got a picture of us crossing the street. It was so touristy but such a fun thing to do.</span></span></span></p> <img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLfz1YrAJVmjsbrWLW-ltXZIHf_NALjW0x3jwpVQGrBZQmIhosM3t4bm9wPbLncyNumncGs3OrH-BKl8jazMNit2UmIBM3JtHBfZWuPjPc-BddsqOZuSTSTdrN59ieQhbRIZbvcc-me0E/s320/25868_1276085910452_1479090225_30807036_2921367_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5448201386631864482" /><p class="MsoNormal"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">On the train home, we stopped at the infamous Platform 9 ¾ for all of you Harry Potter fans. We also made a pit-stop at Harrods. For dinner we went to a place called the Churchill Arms. You walk into a quaint little pub, that is authentic in all aspects except for one thing.</span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">As you make your way to the back, being pushed and prodded as it is so crowded, you discover a delicious Thai restaurant that has amazing pad thai. </span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">To my dismay, I had to leave early the next morning. I lost quite a few £'s, but gained wonderful memories in return.</span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">cheerio, chrissy</span></span></span></p> <!--EndFragment-->chrissy farrellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09022398481968427868noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3902746091513632104.post-30354652127518209022010-03-02T06:33:00.000-08:002010-03-02T06:41:59.412-08:00barca left us broka<p class="MsoNormal">in high school, I spent several weeks in espana, going to school in Malaga, and traveling extensively through Toledo, Sevilla, Granada, Madrid, and several other cities.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The one place I did not have the opportunity to visit was Barcelona.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">so of course I jumped at the opportunity to spend the weekend with my BC friends in Barcelona for my friend alex’s 21<sup>st</sup>.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">this past weekend I literally slept a total of 8 hours, even if that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>But who needs sleep when your in Barcelona?</p> <p class="MsoNormal">On Friday, I headed to the airport where I learned that France was holding an airline strike.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Knowing that ariane (my roommate studying in Paris) was already safe and sound in Barcelona, I did not think that this would be an issue.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>However, within minutes I learned that my flight was delayed, and alex and liz (studying in London) would not be able to make it for the weekend due to their flight being cancelled.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>A snowstorm in the US made getting to Barcelona questionable for friends tina, tripp, taylor, and kirk, but we were all just hoping to make it there.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Luckily my plane got out of Roma, and I landed in Barcelona at 9 pm. I was greeted by ariane at the amazing hotel, Le Meridian (where we were supposed to be spending the night in a lap of luxury for alex’s 21<sup>st</sup>).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Ariane told me to get dressed and we were out the door within the hour.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>We headed to pmac’s (another friend who was studying for the semester in Barcelona) where we met several other BC students and went right out to see dj crookers in a club/discotecca that seemed to have infinite rooms and floors .<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The party went on all night, and ariane and I retired to our lovely hotel circa 6 am.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Being the little explorer I am, I dragged miss ariane out of bed at 9 am to do some much needed sightseeing.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>We headed to la sagrada familia, and many of gaudi’s buildings.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>My favorite was by far the casa batllo.</p><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 266px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3e7xWekKJgGuSGEKRVxiE_UbdHKkjaWeEtdhGDgCFADmpHKPKQsXPf0hcza7uXTQL8CI3fTveDf7f4QVyJdD0DfoYz6qwHxbfRMxjZ3xjuO-onN60B6fMEZaNL7dHO7Dpvyvd1JCcZw0/s320/casabatilobyvincentabbey.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5444045604762211810" /> <p class="MsoNormal">With no time to rest, we decided to go to the Barcelona vs. Malaga soccer game.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>We scalped tickets and landed 2<sup>nd</sup> row seats where we could see the sweat dripping from the players.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> We yelled "Barca!" at the top of our lungs, and had quite the experience. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Riding home on the metro, we noticed a questionable character, and before she knew it, ariane had been pick-pocketed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>We all felt terrible, but ariane did not let it get her down, and we immediately headed right out to the clubs on the beach.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">We danced all night long, and had a great time (except taylor was also unfortunate in the fact that his camera was mysteriously taken from his pocket).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">We again strolled into the hotel at 6 am, and caught some zzz’s before I had to catch a plane home to roma.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">All in all, it was a disastrously amazing weekend..one that left us broke, but with some great memories. </p> <p class="MsoNormal">ciao,</p> <p class="MsoNormal">chrissy </p> <!--EndFragment-->chrissy farrellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09022398481968427868noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3902746091513632104.post-12282827009660766902010-03-02T05:59:00.000-08:002010-03-02T06:04:22.023-08:00the cutest "Dam" city<p class="MsoNormal">Mi dispiace for not having blogged earlier, but I have been extremely busy traveling the last couple of weeks.<span> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal">(2 weeks ago):<span> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal">I had planned a trip to amsterdam with my friends from BC alex and liz and was so excited to see them.<span> </span>It is one of my dad’s favorite cities, and I knew that I would love it.<span> </span>Due to never-ending technical difficulties with my little friend blackberry, I lost communication with alex and liz, and the last I heard from them was to meet them at the “haaggen-dazs” in rembrandt square.<span> </span>This posed several problems, for I had no idea where rembrandt square was and had no way of getting in contact with the girls.<span> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal">However, as I jumped off the tram and walked down the street praying that the haagen-dazs would suddenly appear out of thin air, I heard “CHRISSY!”</p><p class="MsoNormal">When we woke up in the morning, we were completely famished and decided to grab something to eat.<span> </span>We stumbled upon a place called “B & B Lunchroom” and decided to go in.<span> </span>The sandwich selection was not to be believed—my choice was chicken, lettuce, tomato, mozzarella, pine nuts, and pesto. They had every possible type of muffin imaginable: lemon, apple, banana, cream cheese, chocolate chip, and many many more.<span> </span>Liz and I also decided to split the tomato soup, which came in this gorgeous giant bowl.<span> </span>We dove right in and were in awe as the fresh mozzarella hung from our spoons as we fought over who would have the next bite.<span> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal">The day was spent walking the streets of amsterdam, going under and over bridges and in and out of stores.<span> </span>When you are there, it feels as though you have landed face first in a scene from the christmas carol.<span> </span>I honestly believed I was in a little christmas village, just like the one that lives under my christmas tree.<span> </span>It was the cutest “dam” city! <span> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal">We then toured Anne Frank’s house, which was heartbreaking.<span> </span>They preserved the walls exactly how she had them during her time in hiding, and you could feel her presence as you walked through the rooms that were her life for so many months.<span> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal">We also visited the Van Gogh museum, which you could spend hour after hour browsing an impressive collection of his work.</p><p class="MsoNormal">However, the trip wasn’t so innocent.<span> </span>After having heard so much hype about the red light district, I was determined to see this place for myself.<span> </span>As you casually walk through this little christmas city, you turn the corner and are suddenly in an entirely different world.<span> </span>I could not believe my eyes, as red lights flashed on and off, and people flooded the streets.</p><p class="MsoNormal">I was sad to leave, but knew that more adventures were in store, as I was heading to barcelona the next weekend for alex’s 21<sup>st</sup> birthday!</p><p class="MsoNormal">bacci,</p><p class="MsoNormal">chrissy </p>chrissy farrellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09022398481968427868noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3902746091513632104.post-62138741372530077082010-02-15T12:08:00.001-08:002010-02-15T14:08:17.286-08:00carnevale di venezia<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh53kgNfnvLyxCugVizAfN3jJCelEZ5leyJxVAz6phVGO1fdohu4-b4bS1wW_16wPhICzPXd39zCmLb_ESAIicj6ytcuo2cul9c9hwGyxesgmQELEMCVplSSG5cWzKvPWyj8BReISKS_tA/s1600-h/17535_1275641051192_1234920154_30816986_7510336_n.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh53kgNfnvLyxCugVizAfN3jJCelEZ5leyJxVAz6phVGO1fdohu4-b4bS1wW_16wPhICzPXd39zCmLb_ESAIicj6ytcuo2cul9c9hwGyxesgmQELEMCVplSSG5cWzKvPWyj8BReISKS_tA/s320/17535_1275641051192_1234920154_30816986_7510336_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5438587632710683778" /></a>After having been in Rome for nearly 3 weeks, we decided to venture to Venice for Carnevale. <div><br /></div><div>To get to Venice, we took a 7 hour night train, which was rather interesting. We boarded the train at 10 pm, and fell right asleep. However, we were woken up at 3 am as two strangers entered our car. <div><br /></div><div>We arrived in Venice at 5 am, where we decided to see if our hotel would check us in so that we could maybe catch some sleep before an exciting day. However, to our dismay, our hotel room was not ready, and we were stranded. Luckily, McDonalds opened at 5:30 am, so we were able to stay warm inside, and we all passed out on the table.</div><div><br /></div><div>By 8 am, Hotel Bologna (why Bologna when its in Venice is beyond me) checked us in, and we decided to head out to see the city. We walked all over Venice in search of the most perfect masks. The girls decided that finding a mask was like finding a prom dress, when you saw it, you would just know it was yours. It only took my indecisive self a mere 6 hours before I located this mask. Black (of course), it is speckled with gold flakes, studded with real swarovski crystals, with feathers that fade from maroon to green. It is amazing! </div><div><br /></div><div>We went inside St. Marks, the Doges palace, walked across the</div><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj051r0c-TuwIQD-dejRPuRwPtD26pr5fOAObRseHzPbxkS5IP_5B85_Sx_2tFYNxCulwWVuJXGeBGRLaTYzos0QIvmmsolHwM1A1_JSPYao0Q5fIF4c6blXxF5aVvMiQV-P6Cj1ghEoOk/s320/17535_1275640451177_1234920154_30816972_4893005_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5438587374787000226" />Rialto bridge, went to the glass blowing island of Murano, and took a gondola ride around all through the city. </div><div><br /></div><div>At night, we went back to St. Marks Square to participate in the festivities of Carnevale. Everyone was dressed up and wearing their masks, dancing and watching as live music and shows flooded the square. </div><div><br /></div><div>On our second night of Carnevale, things got a little crazy. After having figured out that the night life in Venice is not like Rome (they don't stay out nearly as late), we decided to start the night much earlier. By 9 o'clock we were having a grand old time. However, things went quickly downhill as we were all separated. Venice is a fairly hard city to navigate, and I hate navigating, so to my luck, I was with Peter, our resident tour guide here in Rome (he spent last semester in Rome and we rely on him for everything--from questions about bus routes to where to get the best gelato). To make the situation even better, everyones phones were starting to die. Before we were separated, we were all going to the same place: Campo San Margharita. So, thats where we headed. </div><div><br /></div><div>As we walked through the narrow streets of Venice, over bridges, around corners, we finally made it there, and found everyone. We spent the rest of the night dancing in Campo San Margherita. </div><div><br /></div><div>In the morning, we all made it on the train (a miracle), and headed back to Roma. </div><div><br /></div><div>On the train, we discovered that our friend had been pushed into a canal sometime during the night. His thoughts? "Well it was deep... I mean, I was swimming." Classic.</div><div><br /></div><div>Until another adventure,</div><div><br /></div><div>ciao,</div><div>chrissy </div><div><div><br /></div><br /></div>chrissy farrellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09022398481968427868noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3902746091513632104.post-58450358503498650772010-02-07T02:11:00.000-08:002010-02-07T02:16:42.210-08:00classes? school?<!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal">Buongiorno blog followers, and welcome to the next installment of the trials and tribulations of being a student in Rome.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Yes, everyone, I do still go to school.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Before I get into that, I must tell you that I just successfully managed to make my first pot of coffee, or shall I say espresso, after several failed attempts.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I am very pleased with myself, and feel as if I should receive an award or something.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>First off, the espresso pot does not fit on our stove, so placing the pot becomes a serious balancing act (it has indeed landed on the floor).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Second, the plastic handle is so low to the flame that if you aren’t careful, it melts.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Third, no matter how hard you screw up on the top of the pot, water/coffee magically trickles down the sides of the pot and gets all over the stove.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Finally, you never really know the water to espresso ratio, so you just have to put it in, close your eyes, and pray for the best.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">This time, God heard my prayers.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Last week was the first week of classes, and I soon found out that going to school here was going to be a little harder than I had anticipated.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I am attending a small university, known as The American University of Rome.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The student body is primarily composed of those, like me, looking to wander the streets of this eternal city and expose themselves to a different way of life.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>However, you do stumble upon the occasional student that just couldn’t get on the flight home, and decided to take permanent residence in Rome.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">To my pleasant surprise, I only have class Monday-Wednesday.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I am taking 5 classes, all of which revolve around Italy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>My favorite class so far is Masterpieces of Italian Opera.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>In this class, we will be taught how to analyze opera from top to bottom, and we will also be attending the opera here in Rome.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The homework?<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Listening—to become so versed in the three CD’s of Italian opera given to us that we can identify by composer, tone, and meaning of the opera in a mere 10 seconds.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The second class I am taking is Shakespeare’s Italian plays.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>In this class, we are reading The Merchant of Venice, Romeo and Juliet, The Taming of the Shrew and Othello.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>This one should be a challenge.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Of course, I am taking Italian, which hopefully will help me get around Rome (we have all come to the conclusion that no one really speaks English, especially in our neighborhood).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Perhaps among my most interesting classes in Archaeology of Rome, where we will be on site at various places in Rome, learning the ins and out of how archeologists go about excavating ancient ruins.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>It has become well known that they can’t ever build anything new in Rome, because as soon as they try, the stumble across another amazing ruin.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The final class I am taking is Italian architecture.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>After my visit to the Roman Forum, I was really excited for this class because it baffles me how, with minimal technology, the Romans managed to build these incredible buildings that are still standing today.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Ciao for now, for it is 50 and sunny and Roma awaits. </p> <p class="MsoNormal">chrissy </p> <!--EndFragment-->chrissy farrellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09022398481968427868noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3902746091513632104.post-38977233343237466142010-02-01T12:33:00.000-08:002010-02-01T13:45:30.949-08:00when in roma..EAT as the romans doDino e Tony: where the vino flows at a steady rate, the food comes in 7 courses, and you instantly feel like family.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>All for the bargain price of 27 Euros.<br /><p class="MsoNormal"><!--StartFragment--> </p><p class="MsoNormal">On Saturday night we made plans to go to a little restaurant called Dino e Tony near the Vatican.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>When we arrived at 7:30, they told that that we would be unable to sit until 10.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Not willing to miss out on this experience, we headed down the street to a local bar as we awaited our reservation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>When 10 rolled around, we sprinted to the restaurant like little kids on Christmas.</p><p class="MsoNormal">When we arrived, we squeezed through the crowded room of local Italian families and took over a table in the back.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Immediately we knew we were in good company.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Vino was brought to the table by the pitcher, which were replenished as quickly as they were emptied.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>One—Two—Three—</p><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCEzktj917H6BYUVwt0JeytmQaDcvtW26SqqtuUqOrOllZj_l1iddJ3ol2sCTFmbwq-uVX-eb0JunW0iruFw_bvtJB3tsEUzxKHakPSotEESWFSHuOnPtHcQvSUgMuikswFS88xsWYoO0/s320/pizza.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5433390537214898754" /><p class="MsoNormal">The first course was greeted with cheers from our hungry table.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Fresh prosciutto and salami, followed by fried olives, fried potates, and three types of pizza (gorgonzola, margarita and broccoli).</p><p class="MsoNormal">Four—Five—Six—</p> <img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMhVrpgLj34ESFqGkleplUXAtNG1ekl7S8HWSAQMPJa1tsnE9KeN5xngvciXZd6mSlkVi5-VOoi1mL16U4aqdo7qkgepYUNq_aFGSAg4IJR33vN3SOj4ebWlcso_EbgwjMiPx94nvYsgc/s320/spicy+pasta.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5433390818574067794" />The courses that followed kind of resonate as a blur, but among my favorites of the night were the pasta dishes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Four types of pasta were served: carbonara (which we have come to find as a true Italian dish), an arribiata-esque dish, penne with a sauce equivalent to vodka sauce, and a pasta with ricotta and “unknown “spices.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>All were very tasty.<p class="MsoNormal">Seven—eight</p><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQqJBS4ocmdDWBrf_EpUtfdPqqTWsRJJeO8eKGN4b-af6ThpjQyXaXuGi0z1cJJAGiybKWONSLlJ4-0UekkoIvjlPEoJtv0Qh4F5qJQyywsKshQW73-ytdQmeMkK6yALJh-2ihWa9jVcY/s320/carbonara.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5433391776846091730" /><p class="MsoNormal"><!--StartFragment--> </p><p class="MsoNormal">The dishes came and went, clean plate after clean plate.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The next couple of courses were (ugh-oh) the fish courses.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Fried anchovies and snails.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Everyone at the table was aware that I don’t really eat fish, and being the spontaneous new Roman resident, that I am, thought I should try the anchovies.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>We made sure to document it for the non-believers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span></p><!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal">Nine—ten—eleven</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC0XmGeqZwEkbj9U4XEBwzIdRZ0dJcbH1Upc65Cggg4sYyi2dN8GI5EEr_nDq0zaIPC9k6onP19aWdX0ZOsxfCA9JLUyOpGK1j6F7r_hKbaWVrF9FMNmiEQCMQZEPxlm4tj-YvppqzO9Y/s320/me+and+anchioves.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5433393119852497010" /></p><p class="MsoNormal">Next on the menu: the meats.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>We don’t really know what they were, but they were so good that we really didn’t care.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Twelve—thirteen—</p> <p class="MsoNormal">The desserts.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>A decadent array of fresh cookies and pastries, tiramisu, yogurt with berry sauce, and my knew favorite thing on the planet: granita.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Granita is a very special kind of dessert, and MUST be tried when in Rome.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>It is whipped cream and an icy/slushy espresso mixture.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>If you are a coffee drinker like I am, you fall instantly in love.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"> Part of this presentation, so to speak, were the after dinner drinks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Placed on our table was a giant bottle of homemade limoncello, grappa with an alcohol content seriously resembling gasoline, and another type of dessert wine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>All were consumed with smiles, laughter, and great conversation.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Mangia, mangia, mangia! (eat, eat, eat!)</p> <p class="MsoNormal">ciao, chrissy</p> <!--EndFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span></p> <!--EndFragment--> <p></p> <!--EndFragment--> <p></p> <!--EndFragment--> <p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span></p> <!--EndFragment-->chrissy farrellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09022398481968427868noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3902746091513632104.post-6020675960099712422010-01-29T10:07:00.000-08:002010-01-29T10:34:31.649-08:00the truth about the vino<!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal">As we perused the aisles of our local grocery store, we stumbled upon a fascinating discovery—that wine was cheaper than water.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Wine comes by the bottle, or if your classy Boston College students, you might opt for the jug containing five intoxicating liters of vino for the bargain price of 5 euros. Only in Roma.</p><p class="MsoNormal">At night, the Americans can easily be spotted, figuring the consumption of alcoholic beverages on the street is legal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Most of the college kids take advantage of this, as they head to campo de fiori, wine or beer bottle in hand.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>When they arrive, they are greeted by a series of great bars with even greater names.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Among them are “The Drunken Ship,” which offers a student discount, as well "Giganti" where one can easily end up with free drinks, the bartenders love us!</p><p class="MsoNormal"><!--StartFragment--> </p><p class="MsoNormal">Among the B.C. kids favorite night spots, however, is “Scholars” where they offer karaoke on Tuesday nights, and the music is all from the 90s.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Usually we end up here and can be found in the corner singing at the top of our lungs.</p><p class="MsoNormal">On another note, outside of our spacious apartment (consisting of 3 bedrooms, 2 bathrooms, a living room, kitchen, and 5 enormous terraces), there is a market where you can literally buy anything your heart desires.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>They have the freshest fruits and vegetables, cheese, meat, everything! Among my purchases were some of the largest Fuji apples known to mankind, parmesan cheese, and fresh lettuce that was grown by a little old Italian lady.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal">..and don't even get me started on the gelato. If I could only eat one thing for the rest of my life, that would be it. I cannot express in words how amazing it is, better than anything I had ever anticipated.</p><p class="MsoNormal">We have also been doing a lot of sightseeing. My feet are sore from all of the walking! We have seen the Trevi fountain, the Pantheon, and St. Peters, each one more gorgeous than the next. Today, we managed to climb to the top of St. Peters and look out over the entire city. It was beyond breathtaking, and something I will never forget.</p><p class="MsoNormal">until another day,</p><p class="MsoNormal">ciao, chrissy </p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"><br /></span></p> <!--EndFragment--> <!--EndFragment--> <p></p> <!--EndFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <!--EndFragment-->chrissy farrellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09022398481968427868noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3902746091513632104.post-6917612712445354642010-01-25T15:12:00.000-08:002010-01-25T15:13:46.231-08:00and so the journey begins...<!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color:black">Relief. That’s what a taste after drinking my second cappuccino in the British Airways lounge as I wait for my connecting flight to Rome. Arrivederci new york and bonjourno Roma.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>It sounded so simple at the time…however who knew it would be the exact opposite? <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color:black">My journey to Rome started out with several good surprises.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>First, thanks to a special Terry, I was upgraded to business class.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>When I arrived on board, I was greeted with a glass of ice cold champagne, as well as a full bed to catch up on some much needed beauty rest.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>In the spirit of flying to London, I chose to watch a classic favorite of mine: Harry Potter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Within seconds I was fast asleep.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>With what seemed like mere minutes (which was indeed several hours), I woke the to smell of freshly brewed coffee and warm croissants.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>This is the life.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color:black">However, I spoke to soon.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>After touching down in Londontown, the madness began.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I had a feeling I was going to miss my connecting flight to Rome, which I ended up missing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I ran off the plane as fast as I could and got fairly far until I reached security. It was packed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I frantically searched for Lucy, who was traveling with me, and she was no where to be found.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I turned on my cell phone and the words “call failed” flooded my screen time after time as I tried to place a call home to say “GET ME TO ROME!!!!!” After several tears, I had a seat on the next flight to Rome.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color:black">With the time I had to spare until the flight, I entered the British Airways lounge where I saw the holy ground.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>3 giant cappuccino makers in a row.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I pressed the button and watched heaven glide down the sides of my cup. Hot milk, foam, espresso, and cinnamon.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>By far, an unbeatable combination, and immediately I began to feel better about my predicament.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color:black">My love for cappuccinos ensued in my early childhood when, after dinner, my mom would say “I’ll have a cappuccino.” These words would elicit a giant smile on my face for I knew what would be in store.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Being the child I was, I would immediately grab the cappuccino when it arrived to the table, and slurp up my favorite part: the foam and the cinnamon.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Of course, I would leave behind the espresso, my poor mom!</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color:black">All in all, I finally made it to Rome. Here, I will spend the next four months undoubtedly drinking my fair share of cappuccinos, traveling, eating, and of course, living la dolce vita.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color:black">baci abbracci (hugs and kisses, so I’m told)</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color:black">chrissy </span></p> <!--EndFragment-->chrissy farrellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09022398481968427868noreply@blogger.com1