Special Guest: Police and KATY PERRY!

I am a real blogger. I have a special guest!!!!......

Hello blog world!

This is Katie Tesensky, one of mal's oldest and best friends. I'm sure you are wondering why I am writing on her blog, I mean I'm not living in Bologna. But I was fortunate enough to visit Mal over my Christmas break. Our friendship dates back 12 years where we first met at first stage. Both of us can still remember everything about the first day we met-- Mal was in purple leggings (a trendy 3rd grader), I was in shorts, both wearing our grey First Stage Theater Acadamy t-shirts (Yes, yes...we were theater nerds. Now do you understand our dramatic stories and gestures?). I guess you could say it was love at first sight haha. I'm not going to bore you with all our old friendship details (because most people can't handle them), but lets just say 2 divs in Italy proved to be a fabulous, divalicious time.

I arrived in bologna on a Friday night around 11 and for those of you who know what I'm talking about, I DID NOT NEED A SEEING EYE DOG (there may have been a slight mistake when booking my flight to Italy, I may have accidentally clicked that I needed special assistance and had a seeing eye dog..WHOOPS!). Mal met me at the gate and made her cab driver wait for us in the parking lot (because she can.) We dropped off my things at her apartment and immediately got dinner, which was of course pizza. Honestly, the best thing I've ever tasted. It was fresh and delicious; I would fly back to Bologna this second to get that pizza. and the best part -- super cheap.

After our lovely meal of pizza in the Piazza due Torri, we hit the bars. First we started off classy with a glass of wine at this little tiny bar with the most beautiful bartender, then we met up with Mal's friends Fabio and Ellen and needless to say, things got rowdy. A few shots, drinks, 3 cannucciatas (basically like fishbowls), and more shots...we were feeling no pain. It was at this point in the night that Fabio started calling me Katy Perry. "Katy Perry you must come to Italy more!!" or "Katy Perry!!! (singing) california girls we're undeniable" were just a few of the phrases Fabio yelled at me that night, he ended up creating a nickname for me the entire trip...I mean I didn't hate it!

At the bar we also got to become pretty good friends with the bartender who we called texas. Apparently he was born in texas and then moved to Italy when he was 4...now that I think about it Mal, he could have been making that entire story up. Anyway, it ended up being a very fun evening/early morning and a great way to start off my trip. The next few days we shopped, dined, and lived like the Italians. It was amazing. I had a blast meeting all Mal's new friends, they were so welcoming and tried their best to speak english with me. One of Mal's friends, Augusto was very good about speaking English with me, but he said "Katy Perry you MUST learn Italian" we'll see about that ;)

I stayed in Bologna for 5 days, 4 nights and was able to get to Venice on the Monday I was there. Although it was a little rainy, it was still amazing. It's incredible to see a city built entirely around water...so fab. After taking the train from Bologna to Venice we saw the sights and of course got lost. We ended up finding this little hole-in-the-wall restaurant that was to die. After some wine and pasta we hit the streets again. We may or may not have split a bottle of wine on a bench by the Rialto Bridge..I guess you'll never know.

After seeing some sights we proceeded to get SO lost and really having to go to the bathroom we (Mal) decided it would be a good idea to walk into some swanky hotel and ask to use their bathroom, which did not happen. After the lies in Italian and then English, I pretty sure the front desk guy knew we weren't staying there..it got really awkward after that so Mal and I just left, still having to use the bathroom and still very much lost. I don't know how we did it but we managed to find a bathroom and make the train back to Bologna. THANK GOD. It was a long, yet very fun day.

Overall my time in Italy was incredible, not only was I seeing the country with a fluent speaker (yeah you are pretty much fluent Mal, get over it) but I got to see it with my best friend, I couldn't have asked for a better trip. Mal was a great host and her friends were way too much fun. It was a great way to start off 2011...seeing Italy with your bestie...doesn't get much better than that :)

love ya Malsey xo

-Katy Perry

*So my friends are obsessed with saying Special Guest: ___insert guest's name__. One night that Katie was in Bologna with us, the Cops came and interrupted our gathering. So naturally the phrase "Special Guest: Police" became one of the many go-to phrases in our vernacular. Also: ACBC. (All Cops are Bad Cops) Learn it. Love it.

I turn 20 and a half tomorrow.

Mally

Texan Friend.
We Loved Him.
KT enjoying her first REAL Italian Gelato!
Neptune's Fountain in Bologna!
In VENICE!

I needed to add this picture. Lookin good Enrico.





Rain Boots: A necessity in Venice.
Those glasses don't have lenses. (Katie, Fabio and Me)
Panah (Alessandro) and Fa

A pensive Fa and modelesque Enrico

2 shirts buttoned together. Nice Augusto.

Me and Ellen

Me and Katie and our Texan friend at Caffetino.
Ellen, Me, Katie and Fabio enjoying our first cannucciata of the night.

Call me Mrs. Ron Weasley

**excuse my laziness in Blogging. I made this London trip November 12th-14th. Yes, I finally blogged. Please go back to your daily routine after rejoicing.

For those of you that don’t know, I would rather be “magic folk” than a “muggle”. The Harry Potter series consumed the entirety of my childhood and I truly believe that the wizarding world is out there (as much as I still believe Michael Jackson is still alive). I wait, longingly yet hopefully, every day that my Hogwarts acceptance letter will come FINALLY (via Owl post obviously).

That being said, a few weeks (or months, whatever you wanna call it) ago I took a trip to London to seek out my wizard husband (Ron, duh....Hermione you ain't got nothin' on me girl). Well…more realistically, I went to see the things that inspired JK Rowling to write the series that has prevented me from doing well in school. (She is my Queen.)

This is my first travel post (yippee). Anyway, before I get into the details of my ‘wicked’ weekend I would like to tell you that all my stories will be completely abridged. Meaning: I know you don’t really care about everything I tasted, my feelings at every point during my trip, everything I saw, touched, smelled, or whatever else. Ok, maybe you care but I honestly don’t care enough to write it all. AND I promise I will keep all adjectives to a minimum, unlike many study-abroad-college-aged-bloggers (that I stalk) who think it’s normal and cool to use words like “plethora” “wondrous” “breathtaking” and “picturesque” over and over and over again. Annoying.

So now you know how I really feel. And why I hate blogging…and adjectives. Don’t worry bloggers who are freaking out right now, I wasn’t thinking about anyone in particular. Just kidding…I definitely was.

Ok. London. Took a plastic Ryanair airplane that landed in bumbleville* England about an hour and a half outside of London.

So, you know, after casually (accidentally) leaving my passport in the duty free shop. We found a bus and made our way to the center of London.

I erroneously told my London friend that I was taking a bus from the airport to Victoria Station when really it was Victoria COACH Station. God, I can be such a Muggle sometimes. But thankfully it was freezing and pouring rain during the hour and a half I searched the streets of this foreign city. Oh London, you’re not very good at first impressions. Finally, I saw my friends. Luckily they were easy to spot: both decked out in North Face and holding Starbucks cups. How very Midwest-American of you.

Things I did (sorry I have a list fetish):

1. Went to dinner at a real LIFE English pub! Filled with real LIVE English people who were speaking in real LIVE English accents! When I ordered a butterbeer at this pub they snarled at me; I pouted.

2. Went clubbing near Piccadilly Circus. No Big Deal. Side note: I like clubs in London better than the ones in Bologna because 1) The volume of the music doesn’t destroy your ear drums 2) English 3) I think people actually take showers before going out!

3. Took a red-double decker bus home from the clubs. Obviously I found it completely necessary to scream “THIS IS SO LONDONY!” at every chance I got. How embarrassing.

4. Met up with my friend Mark from Madison. Walked the old streets of London. Drank warm beer with him(no it was not stale keystone light). Did a pub-crawl. My favorite part of the crawl was to see that every pub, at any time of the day is filled with people. But then again I would always be drinking with weather like in London…

5. Paid in Galleons.

6. Went to a Christmas market. I bought one thing. Of course I managed to purchase the most unnecessary (and most overpriced) product at the market: a string of cinnamon sticks. (insert redeeming quality of mine…)

7. Mastered the Patronus Charm. (Mine is a Lizard. Actually it's a Zebra...DiVA)

8. Got destroyed by the pound. Let me tell you: I absolutely hate English money. Number 1: it is very hard to differentiate the bills. Number 2: I’m sorry Queen but you are ugly, it is selfish of you to be on the bills. Obviously, Ron Weasley should be on there. Number 3: The exchange rate is deadly. England, can you please stop having a rockin’ economy so I can pay less than 10 dollars for my Starbucks?

9. Saw the regular Londony sights. I would tell you all about them, but you can read other boring-adjective-filled blogs that will explain all of those sights. Or you can just watch the Mary-Kate and Ashley movie Winning London. Up to you.

10.Saw Chicago on Broadway. In London. Weird that our midwestern selves chose that show. Whatever it was fabulous.

11. “Minded the Gap” on the tube. (if you’ve ever been…you’ll know what I’m talking about.)…see they don’t really speak English in England.

Numbers 5 and 7 are lies.

Anyways, my trip to London was a blast. I had so much fun speaking English again, although in some cases the English accent cannot qualify for real English. American is the only real language…but you already know that.

My regrets: I did not meet Ron Weasley. I did not get to Ollivander’s for my wand. I did not apparate to Hogwarts. And I did not cheat on Ron with Draco Malfoy. But I have the rest of my life to live and I’m sure I will be meeting you again, London!

Thank you to Dana, Emily and Mark (my fellow Badgers) for making my trip a success!

Oh also, I despise the word reckon’. If I hear it one more time I will smack someone in the face.

Always look LEFT when crossing the street in London,

Mals

…kidding, please look right. Cheers.

*I got yelled at for swearing on this blog. The *star* means “use your imagination for what could potentially be here”. You can let your mom wash your mouth out with soap this time.

Mark, Me and Friends (note: DJ Spreckles. Love Madison)
The Friends I met at the Club!
Me and Dana
How Londony? Tell me.
My friends at Platform 9 3/4. How much fun did we have there guys?! .....
Harry Potter!
They think they are so clever....
Emily and Dana
Proof I was in London.

Wait a second...this isn't a year long vacation???

When I signed up for this year abroad thing, I did not know that school was included in the package. It was an extra bonus! Sadly it’s really detrimental to my year long vacation. However, I have to endure the pain. So…time to talk about school! Yipee.

(Note: contrary to popular belief…not all study abroad programs are easy. Thank you BCSP for actually making me study, do homework work and get really stressed out.)

The best part about school here is that it’s all in Italian! Unfortunately, I DON’T SPEAK ITALIAN. This is quite an obstacle. Just kidding, I can speak it…it just means it’s easier to zone out than classes in English. Oh mio Dio.

Anyways, right now I’m taking 3 classes (equivalent to 12 credits.) I took a 3-credit class in September. It was half grammar and half history. The grammar part was easy; the history part was awful. Aside from the fact that I HATE history, I did not enjoy the class because the professor was lame and made loser jokes. So, immediately my attention was drawn to how high he wore his pants, how tight he wore his tie and how see-through his shirt was. We can just say that because of this, I did not do well on the final. (I still got an A!)

Anyways, out of the 3 classes that I’m taking right now, 2 of them are at our program’s office. So they are all with American students, but Italian teachers. My Italian language class has about 15 students in it and my Cinema class only has 9. They are both conducted in Italian. If you even speak one word of English they whip you with a flail (Bologna is a medieval city. And that’s what Italians do. Gruesome, I know.)

The grammar class has been really helpful. We read newspaper articles a lot, which teaches us about Italian culture, as well as teaches us idiomatic expressions and phrases used in daily speech. Then we focus on finding synonyms and antonyms of these words (if you are trying to learn a language do this! It’s very helpful!). We are pretty much all at a level where we just need to be adding to our vocabulary, but it’s pretty obvious we all still need grammar practice. Our professor loves to ask us to explain how things are done in the states. What I’ve learned is there is no way to generalize American life-styles like you can Italian ones. Everything DIPENDE (depends) on where you go and where you are from. Let’s just say many arguments ensue and my teacher thinks we are all wild savages that don’t actually live in the same country because everyone contradicts one another. My role in these arguments is usually to sit there with my mouth open, rolling my eyes at the stupid things people say about our country. Just kidding no one ever says anything stupid. We all use the phrase “Charlie down!”

My cinema class is okay. I can only take so many 3 hour black and white films with no plot or explosions or like…color. Although some of the articles that we read are in English, that’s cool. Here is a little exerpt:

“Bakhtin pits decentralizing energies (speech, carnival) against a hegemonic project of centralization (officialdom, the language system). In both cases what was thought to be marginal (popular festivities, vulgar speech) is brought to the center of discussion. Bakhtin’s valorization of the anarchizing vitality of parole against the ossified rigidities of langue, in this sense, is isomorphic with his predilection for the subversive force of carnival as opposed to the suffocating decorum of official life and style.”

WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN. I don’t speak English, I speak American.

And that’s pretty much all I have to say about that class.

And then we get to my most interesting class so far. Not. My 6 credit “Letteratura Italiana” with Professore Battistini. This class is at the University of Bologna. So all in Italian and all with Italian students.

First of all, the class started on October 5^th instead of September 27^th because the professor was sick. Beautiful. Next, the lecture hall seats about 150 students, yet about 200 are enrolled in the class. I’ve found it to be really fun to trample fellow classmates while trying to get a seat.

Then, my lovely professor strolls in about 22 minutes late…every day. Unfortunately, there is no rule here that you can leave after 10 minutes of waiting without the professor. That is why Madison is awesome. Actually, today Battistini was early! He came only 15 minutes late. I didn’t know what to do, I felt so unprepared without those 7 extra minutes of twiddling my thumbs. Why don’t I just come at 11:22 you ask? Answer: I’d rather not have to sit on the windowsill or on the lap of a classmate. That’s usually the only spot open after “The Storm of the Classroom” which happens at precisely 11:00.

Then the professor begins his beautiful lecture. Monotone voice; pacing back and forth; no jokes; no structure; in Italian. I clearly pay attention a lot.

After about 2 hours of his psycho-babble: my brain is fried and I look at my notes à I’ve caught down about a page full of his ramble but luckily I catch the jist of every lesson. I look over at every other Italian student who have each individually written every singly word that left Battistini’s mouth…I’m sure they even leave extra big spaces for the breaths he took. (One girl writes at least 10 pages of notes every day. Front and back.) This is when I feel really foreign. This is when I feel like I’m going to fail the class.

Like I said before, there is no structure to his lectures. It’s hard for us American students to adjust to this. We come from a world of PowerPoint’s and worksheets. They don’t exist here. Here my grade will consist of a 12-page paper on a book of our choice (off of a list of about 30). Then we have to read The Inferno (Dante), The Decameron (Boccaccio), Zeno’s Conscience (Svevo), Sensilità (Svevo) and The Prince (Macchiavelli). Culminated by a 15 to 30-minute oral exam in which the professor is free to ask you anything about what we’ve done in class or on the books you’ve read. Sound fun? I’m so excited. I love failing.

Pray for me,

Mals

Battistini is a crowd pleaser.
Everyone really enjoys this class.

My professor. Yes, I am the weird foreigner that takes pictures during class. (you've all seen them in lectures at home)

P.S. Today the professor began the class with “Luckily the lock on this classroom door is locked. The rest of the Faculty is on strike this week and they have locked all the other classroom doors so no classes can proceed. Aren’t we lucky! Let’s begin…”

Paper Planes

(Max 1 Bag: IF IT FITS....oooh so threatening RyanAIR)

Ok, my mom finds my travel (yes I travel, soon I'll get around to writing about my adventures! I know you are dying to be up to date) stories incredibly fascinating and wants me to dedicate a post to my friend RyanAir because she thinks it’s oddly hysterical. I don’t really get it. I think flying in a plastic plane is completely normal!

For those of you have had the pleasure of flying RyanAir: read and reminisce. For those of you who have never flown RyanAir this is how it works:

Pretty much, from the get-go, they deceive you and tell you your flight is only going to be like 12 Euros. So after you get conned into that, they charge you for everything: online check-in, checked baggage, travel insurance (that you probably need considering the plane is made of Legos), a text message sending you your itinerary, blah blah blah. Luckily I did my homework and tortured my friends who have taken it before and asked them every little detail so I wouldn’t fall into the traps (thank you Jenny and Emmett, my heros.) So my flights are usually never more than 40 euros. After you buy your ticket they send you the confirmation. You can even print out your boarding pass 15 days before the flight!

When the day of your adventure comes, you have to be able to pack all of your belongings into a zip lock baggie because that’s about all you’re allowed to take. But it’s fine, we’re in Europe, you’re allowed to reuse underwear.

If you have a question about the flight, you have to wait until about 30 seconds before boarding because the attendants don’t show up until then. Sometimes, if you’re lucky you can catch them in the Duty Free shop stocking up on alcohol and Toblerone chocolate before the flight (true story.).

The plane is general seating so naturally people line up at gate at least 30 minutes before boarding so they can get a good seat. (I think they just want to be close for the safety show the flight attendants put on. Because to me, all seats are the same, your legs are going to be crushed no matter what.) However, because we are in Italy and the concept of a LINE is still too technologically advanced, it’s pretty much a blob of people invading your personal bubble for a half hour. I usually use this time to peer around at the other passengers, and search for whoever could be my Sawyer. In case, ya know, we are in the middle section.

Then they start boarding: more pushing and shoving happens and you exit the airport. Instead of leading you directly to the body of the plane, the exit pretty much puts you on the runway. Not to worry, there is always a crossing guard there for your safety so you won’t get hit by a plane. Once you pass the crossing guard it’s a free for all. There are two entrances to the plane: one in the front, and one in the back. At this point, most people break into sprints in order to be the first to climb the scaffolding-like staircase (that’s actually made out of tinker toys) to enter the plane. One boy, traveling with his mother and father, tripped and fell during the mad rush to the plane. His mother paused to help him, but the father yelled “LEAVE HIM” and continued on (this was the background music…). Poor kid; although, I envied the father for his determination. I digress.

Luckily, upon entering the plane, the flight attendants check your boarding pass. Apparently it’s a common mistake to get on the wrong plane. Not joking.

The plane then takes off. The pilots usually like to show off by doing unnecessary tilts and turns in the air. It’s very frightening considering the pilots have the flight equivalent of a drivers permit and really shouldn’t be flying planes.

During the flight the stewardesses are kind enough to sell drinks, bottles of perfume, RyanAir bikini calendars, bottles of alcohol, 5 hour energies, stuffed animals and of course smokeless cigarettes. (Italians obviously cannot make it through a 2 hour flight without their nicotine fix.). Plus they look totally chic walking around the plane with a white piece of plastic hanging from their lips.

Then finally the airplane collides with the ground. Yes, collides. It’s never a smooth landing; you are pretty much dropped to the ground. It’s really fun. Then of course a round of applause erupts from the cabin. Can I just say something: that should not happen. It should not be a surprise that we’ve landed alive and safely. Planes have been around since 1903: we should be past the point of wondering “is this the plane that’s going to make it?!” Um yeah…no. Then a bugle sounds over the loud speaker… like “tah-daaahh! You made it! Without crashing! We are just as excited as you are!”.

And then you get off the plane.

I heart RyanAir.

Mal

Boo-Logna!

I realized i've been really lame and haven't posted anything about my SOCIAL LIFE. which i have one ( I SWEAR). usually i'm really awkward and can't make friends but luckily people here like me! (maybe it's the blonde hair?).

Last night we celebrated Halloween AMERICAN STYLE. At our friend Maggie's house. It was a beautiful mixture of Americans and Italians (with the occasional random other-type of foreigner thrown in the pot). Maggie was an amazing host and made Sangria, Jungle Juice and a million types of sweets that (obviously) Maried, Ellen and I wolfed down when we were being anti-social. Standing in the kitchen. Alone. At least we have each other. Around 2 o'clock we all got kicked out of the apartment because the neighbors were fed up with the noise and threatend to call the cops. (at least I didn't have to be worried about underage drinking! but still, I don't want to get in trouble with Italian law). So we lingered in the streets for about a half hour, being as loud and disrespectful as we could (why not? we are in Italy.) and finally made our way to a bar, with Ellen's roommates. This wasn't the tipical bar you would find in America (dark, loud music, filled with drunken sluts and manwhores) it was like a quaint little breakfast bar. No music. Brightly lit up. And about the size of a walk-in closet. The bartenders were like 2 fathers, I swear. We took shots of limoncello and other things that ew...my stomach can't even handle the description of them right now. I tried to have the bartender make me my favorite girly shot (A Kamikaze...well in Italian Kam-EE-kah-tzay) but my underage self couldn't remember how to make it. UGH. So they tried to make it, from what I remembered was in it, barf. For next time I promised to bring them the recipe .

Anyways, long story short I didn't go to bed until 4. And I don't remember the walk home. Just kidding Dad, I do.

All in all, a successful Italian Halloween. (actually probably more fun than the overrated Madison Halloween, to be honest.)

ps. I was so creative and went as a cowgirl. BAMF costume, I know. I got amazing stares walking around in cut off jean shorts and high boots. As if I don't eady feel like a foreigner with my platinum blonde hair. Whatever, I'm different. I'm a hipster (or in italian, HEEP-stare. love it.). ew.

I'm a photo thief. Thanks for the photos paparazzo Maried.