tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-53041750366278260902024-03-05T19:20:41.830-05:00ItaliaLydiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16657401452953073654noreply@blogger.comBlogger117125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5304175036627826090.post-85741409257367068932015-12-23T13:53:00.000-05:002015-12-23T13:53:08.750-05:00ATTN Journalists/aggregators looking to use my content from 30 Years Later:<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Please note this blog was last updated in 2012, and therefore has information three to four years old. For instance, I'm a Kent State University alumna, not student.<br />
I can give you updated information and answer any other questions.<br />
I'm easy to reach. <a href="mailto:Lydia.Coutre@gmail.com">Lydia.Coutre@gmail.com</a> OR <a href="http://twitter.com/lydiacoutre" target="_blank">@LydiaCoutre</a>.<br />
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Lydiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16657401452953073654noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5304175036627826090.post-23922224049824582792012-06-05T22:16:00.003-04:002013-03-16T10:22:03.658-04:00I am not dead.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<b id="internal-source-marker_0.26321284589357674" style="font-weight: normal; text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I’m writing this with two purposes:</span></b></div>
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<b id="internal-source-marker_0.26321284589357674" style="font-weight: normal; text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">1. To finally start my study away reflection paper.</span></b></div>
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<b id="internal-source-marker_0.26321284589357674" style="font-weight: normal; text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">2. To update my blog with a promise to </span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">still</span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> write about my final month in Italy.</span></b></div>
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<b id="internal-source-marker_0.26321284589357674" style="font-weight: normal; text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I honestly haven’t had the emotional strength or the time to sit down and process the first four months of 2012 in order to do either of those things. But realizing Sunday that one month ago I was sitting in Piazalle Michelangelo saying “see you later” to some of the greatest people I now have the honor of calling my friends — my family — has forced me to do just that: think.</span></b></div>
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<b id="internal-source-marker_0.26321284589357674" style="font-weight: normal; text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">And with that comes my energy to hopefully start writing about April in Italia!</span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">As of yesterday I have been back in the United States for one month. Even as a Journalism major, I don’t think words will ever be able to capture the life-changing experience I had in my four months abroad. I miss it every day.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">From a week exploring Greece with some of my best friends to a weekend in London with my parents. From a new Italian city every weekend to jumping off a canyon in Switzerland during another. Nothing can compare — yet. I think that’s the most important thing for me to keep in mind as I try to resituate my new self into a life in the midwest. The best advice I got while there came from a lifelong friend who backpacked through Europe last summer: “Keep having the time of your life (but don't let that make you think you wont once you come back home:))” That’s always the biggest hurdle to overcome for any study abroad student. I didn’t peak in Europe. I just began to climb. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Nor is Europe over. It never will be. My Italian semester will always be with me. A month after returning, I can see it became a part of me without me realizing it. Italy is what allowed me to be my own rock.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It is in the way I approach challenges with a newfound confidence. It rests across Ohio, New York and Pennsylvania with my CCI Florence Family. It is in my enthusiasm for life. It is in my sturdy independence. It is in the pasta sauce we learned at Il Tavolo that I still make on a weekly basis. It is in every single one of my “certo” and “prego” responses when I hear “thank you.” It is the memory of feeling free I draw to the surface of my mind every time I’m overwhelmed. It is the snapshots of clarity that flash behind my eyelids in moments when I know who I am.</span></div>
</b></div>Lydiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16657401452953073654noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5304175036627826090.post-41928592542805227702012-04-26T18:45:00.000-04:002013-03-16T10:22:03.668-04:00POTD<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Why am I so behind? Here's a summary of my life for the past couple of weeks.</div>
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<b>26 April 2012</b> <i>Boboli Gardens</i></div>
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Today was my very last class for the semester. I have to exams and a paper left. I can't believe how fast it's gone. I still have many of my mom's pictures to take. I got one today and headed to the Boboli Gardens to find two more. I spent an hour walking around them and didn't find either. I can't believe how expansive the gardens are.</div>
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<b>25 April 2012</b> <i>Fiesole</i></div>
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I have wanted to visit Fiesole all semester. I finally got to Wednesday on Italian Liberation Day when we didn't have school. Jessica, Kate and I took the bus up to the small town on a hill for dinner and the sunset. It was so peaceful. </div>
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<b>23 April 2012</b> <i>Finals</i></div>
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<b>22 April 2012</b> <i>Venice</i></div>
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We had about three hours of free time Sunday. It started to storm for it. I couldn't even be mad after the two gorgeous days we had despite a forecast of rain. And even storming, this city is beautiful.</div>
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<b>21 April 2012</b> <i>Venezia</i></div>
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In between a couple of visits to churches/museums, I got to wander through the city. I never stopped being amazed by it. I don't think I ever will be.</div>
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<b>20 April 2012</b> <i>Gondola</i></div>
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It stopped raining. I was in Venice. I rode in a Gondola. What else do I need to be happy?</div>
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<b>18 April 2012</b> <i>Rain, rain go away. Come again when I'm in the USA.</i></div>
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This is the only picture I took between my weekend trips, but it's a pretty accurate description of the entire week. It just rained and rained and rained.</div>
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<b>15 April 2012</b> <i>Pompei</i></div>
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And this lovely weather was the perfect cap to our rainy weekend in Amalfi. It may have been from under an umbrella and while looking like a wet rat, but at least we got to see Pompei and Mount Vesuvius. </div>
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<b>14 April 2012</b> <i>Reggia di Caserta</i></div>
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We were supposed to go to Positano today. Due to the thunderstorms predicted for the entire day, we switched our itinerary. We saw a castle and ate a meter of pizza instead. Fair enough trade.</div>
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<b>13 April 2012</b> <i>Capri</i></div>
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This wasn't exactly what we had in mind when we headed to Capri.</div>
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<b>11 April 2012</b> <i>Piazza della Santissima Annunziata</i></div>
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For class today the Italian composition class took us to Piazza della Santissima Annunziata. They told us about the area in Italian. I only caught about 25 percent of it. I wish I could speak Italian well. It started pouring as we walked back home — a good preview of our </div>
</div>Lydiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16657401452953073654noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5304175036627826090.post-55117129170205056342012-04-23T15:02:00.000-04:002013-03-16T10:22:03.696-04:00Rita in Florence 30 Years Later<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
This is one of the coolest pictures I've gotten to do. I think in 30 years I'll send my child (or perhaps niece/nephew) to Florence, then go visit them and start making a tradition out of it.<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
I'm so glad my mom got to come back here. It gives me hope that I will one day too.<br />
Although I'd like if it could be sooner than in 30 years.<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTahDPO4hfPSPFX7w1iT8hCev-OK3Syt1nkAzbaS6uMRP72zyaERb-mz4uM4a_gOEJNCkG5vbI9Bil-e-yrZXvtg8-A98ObxMORLAaqCW8zIdZm2vYV-3s_J4zpo0C1LwRC0j1-wB6aZBM/s1600/15.+Rita+in+Florence+2(4pARTS)sm.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTahDPO4hfPSPFX7w1iT8hCev-OK3Syt1nkAzbaS6uMRP72zyaERb-mz4uM4a_gOEJNCkG5vbI9Bil-e-yrZXvtg8-A98ObxMORLAaqCW8zIdZm2vYV-3s_J4zpo0C1LwRC0j1-wB6aZBM/s640/15.+Rita+in+Florence+2(4pARTS)sm.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Piazzale Michelangelo</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br /></div>
</div>Lydiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16657401452953073654noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5304175036627826090.post-27022694350502795442012-04-23T14:55:00.000-04:002013-03-16T10:22:03.661-04:00Welcome to Italy, Mum and Dad!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpFirst" style="margin-left: 0in; text-align: left; text-indent: 0in;">
Sunday was an early start. Very early.</div>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in; text-align: left; text-indent: 0in;">
We had a flight to catch at 6:30 a.m. from an airport an hour
outside of the city, which meant a taxi at 4 a.m.</div>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in; text-align: left; text-indent: 0in;">
Jay made me the English tea I had failed to drink all weekend.
It was fantastic and now part of my daily routine. Despite the caffeine, the
travel was largely a blur. I sat between my parents on the way to the airport
and was practically lulled to sleep by the street markers rhythmically
disappearing underneath the car in front of me.</div>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in; text-align: left; text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in; text-align: left; text-indent: 0in;">
The airport was far more busy than we were expecting. We
started to get worried as we waited in line to check in. We had assumed the
weight limit would be the same or close to what it was for their flight from
the US. I was wrong. </div>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in; text-align: left; text-indent: 0in;">
We were 7-8 kilos over the 15-kilo weight limit for each of
their 50-pound bags. (And they gave me a hard time for two 50-pound bags for
four months) The charge was £20<b> </b>per
kilo overweight. It would have neared $500 in fees. Instead we ended up doing
the same thing I did in Greece: pay for an extra suitcase instead of extra weight.
We were going to be cutting it close. We ran around the corner and found the
cheapest biggest bag we could. It was a rolling duffle for £40. Perfect. As my
mom and I threw stuff from suitcase to suitcase in a tornado of clothes and
belongings, my dad ran across the open area to a scale, frantically weighing
one at a time for 1 pound.</div>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in; text-align: left; text-indent: 0in;">
He’d come hurtling back with our verdict. “One more kilo in
here! Give me another one.”</div>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in; text-align: left; text-indent: 0in;">
With some random stuff shoved into our carry-ons (My mom took
one of my boots on the plane. Only one), we ran back to the check-in counter.
The man let us line jump, and we reweighed our luggage. 15.4, 14.7, 14.9. </div>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in; text-align: left; text-indent: 0in;">
Close enough. </div>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in; text-align: left; text-indent: 0in;">
Even better, my mom had already paid for a third bag for me
when she bought the tickets. I only brought my backpack for the weekend,
figuring it would save us stress and money. It still did.</div>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in; text-align: left; text-indent: 0in;">
On to security! I hopped from one foot to the other, anxious
to get through in time, but we did. We ran all the way to our gate, barreling
down the final empty hallway only to practically run into the long line to
board. We stood around for 10 minutes before walking outside and up to the
plane.</div>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in; text-align: left; text-indent: 0in;">
We took Ryan Air, which is a free-for-all for seats, but my
mom and I found some next to each other. I settled in with my cough drops and
bottle of water and dozed for most of the flight. We landed in Pisa around 9:30
a.m., welcomed with Ryan Air’s customary triumphant landing music I had heard
about.</div>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in; text-align: left; text-indent: 0in;">
My parents resituated our luggage again and shoved our
carry-ons into our newly acquired duffle as I went to buy bus tickets into
town. I snacked on the banana I bought as I led them out to the bus stop,
asking a couple times for directions to the right one. The bus arrived soon,
but we were nearly the first one to sit down. Thank goodness, because we were
more of sardines than passengers. People were trying to get on by pushing
against the wall of people inside with all the force they could muster.
Eventually the doors closed on these people and we were off.</div>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in; text-align: left; text-indent: 0in;">
When we got to the train station, we walked to the end to drop
off our luggage. It was about €3 per bag for the day if I remember correctly.
Relieved to be rid of our extra weight at least for a little bit, we headed
toward the Leaning Tower of Pisa! It was nice to know the way this time, after
having <a href="http://lydiaislost.blogspot.it/2012/01/pisa-and-pizza.html" target="_blank">been there in January</a>. Before we got too far, the first order of
business was caffeine. We all needed it.</div>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in; text-align: left; text-indent: 0in;">
We took a pit stop in a small café that seemed to be the only
one open for three cappuccinos and three pastries.</div>
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<br /></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6MdUPbw03nkXYXGGWYHfPflMepE9nyXjscsaczDviJ4Do2IvSKSx_TCA01Fcl_qOkoiH83N9yZwDjMOWz5ztO-HOxxMVwGcvB2f17fjb7J_MB9QSnQyvdb-G6QK_a1_c0o2zyA_rdyDUd/s1600/DSC_0488.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6MdUPbw03nkXYXGGWYHfPflMepE9nyXjscsaczDviJ4Do2IvSKSx_TCA01Fcl_qOkoiH83N9yZwDjMOWz5ztO-HOxxMVwGcvB2f17fjb7J_MB9QSnQyvdb-G6QK_a1_c0o2zyA_rdyDUd/s400/DSC_0488.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in; text-align: center; text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in; text-align: left; text-indent: 0in;">
As we approached the Arno, I could hear shouting and cheering.
We got closer and saw there was some sort of race going on. A few people were
scattered along the wall </div>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in; text-align: left; text-indent: 0in;">
Some people who appeared to have finished the race/run were
jogging back to run alongside people in support. We walked along trying to stay
out of their way.</div>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in; text-align: left; text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in; text-align: center; text-indent: 0in;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcb2nLgNsJvSQmdSFLwmYELItAfndpJffuphogJAnxKMJM9wJ3SXP5J3ZlXLyFBUI_1M6J8ibjseoWYbfaKwNEK02HeS0ZWIguqV8loQ6EE5B1NSQcPv9zXmTJyHFkd2vC_R8hwOeW-xOM/s1600/DSC_0487.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcb2nLgNsJvSQmdSFLwmYELItAfndpJffuphogJAnxKMJM9wJ3SXP5J3ZlXLyFBUI_1M6J8ibjseoWYbfaKwNEK02HeS0ZWIguqV8loQ6EE5B1NSQcPv9zXmTJyHFkd2vC_R8hwOeW-xOM/s640/DSC_0487.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in; text-align: left; text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in; text-align: left; text-indent: 0in;">
My parents kept noticing small things, like the shutters on
the windows and the plants sitting on balconies. It was cool to see them have
similar reactions as my CCI family and I had when we came here for our first
trip this semester.</div>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in; text-align: left; text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjATwvpWkC8GSmoRF4bD8ovUAsVJhkcLhpAaB_xBDnZxR3gxj3XTy0fjmFNFTlpsG5WP_00fAbQCNibkUANImZuJ2CD2kUpr0vQp7isaClYt_L46Q54sKlJu-0LQe3Oseq1iMeM7i2LV755/s1600/DSC_0490.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjATwvpWkC8GSmoRF4bD8ovUAsVJhkcLhpAaB_xBDnZxR3gxj3XTy0fjmFNFTlpsG5WP_00fAbQCNibkUANImZuJ2CD2kUpr0vQp7isaClYt_L46Q54sKlJu-0LQe3Oseq1iMeM7i2LV755/s400/DSC_0490.JPG" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rita!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in; text-align: left; text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in; text-align: left; text-indent: 0in;">
We rounded the corner to see the tower. It’s still just as
startling. I’m walking along simple Italian streets and expect to find another
one around the corner at the end, but am instead faced with the famous
landmark.</div>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in; text-align: left; text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in; text-align: center; text-indent: 0in;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-HOfuJKI4ARWhvpDo7q454DO9lEcHSdYOycZ6YDm3Ewi2SUyQ2i05ZfAhjaoudj-SiBlqnXcG4jnTahtWnlSnle6vykJ_QKbcfZaE4seeCP1FStSEkZERsSAR_D7Bc3hvIiKV-9y6JTe5/s1600/DSC_0491.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-HOfuJKI4ARWhvpDo7q454DO9lEcHSdYOycZ6YDm3Ewi2SUyQ2i05ZfAhjaoudj-SiBlqnXcG4jnTahtWnlSnle6vykJ_QKbcfZaE4seeCP1FStSEkZERsSAR_D7Bc3hvIiKV-9y6JTe5/s320/DSC_0491.JPG" width="213" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in; text-align: center; text-indent: 0in;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkFvBe15C9dayA16lWp__wZS0uUG8HobJ7VkbgwqZI5ErqkRuy4KWWEnfYL-dNNBw3oDKSUBwQwhQjew0enEwMD8VhpI-Nw9vVac4LC1PybMgfMxFqXbvLkTI87hrxoar4_iTuS5zkJCsN/s1600/DSC_0492.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkFvBe15C9dayA16lWp__wZS0uUG8HobJ7VkbgwqZI5ErqkRuy4KWWEnfYL-dNNBw3oDKSUBwQwhQjew0enEwMD8VhpI-Nw9vVac4LC1PybMgfMxFqXbvLkTI87hrxoar4_iTuS5zkJCsN/s320/DSC_0492.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in; text-align: left; text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in; text-align: left; text-indent: 0in;">
I walked around as my parents read signs about the tower. They
followed me eventually around the church. We slipped inside the church to find
a mass going on! There were several other tourists standing quietly in the back
behind the rope that blocked off the aisle. I hadn’t gone inside any of the
buildings before, so I’m glad I got to this time. It was really cool to see,
but I felt weird. I can’t imagine sitting through church with people watching
it behind me.</div>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in; text-align: left; text-indent: 0in;">
We walked out and around the baptistery, where we found a
place to sit on the grass.</div>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in; text-align: left; text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in; text-align: center; text-indent: 0in;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBtUjxv2TR5mAvl6Jn9bZvHd2PjXEhZ26balFTmHQtRPkIbhVKkeC-TwKA-9Z5pScD02ynxQ534X6AqvA2gbmEo3PyOdkCE0pCVwJ2TFi080qpq25V61YltPOk4tFbwAwnJxlPCTwtDgBJ/s1600/DSC_0495.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBtUjxv2TR5mAvl6Jn9bZvHd2PjXEhZ26balFTmHQtRPkIbhVKkeC-TwKA-9Z5pScD02ynxQ534X6AqvA2gbmEo3PyOdkCE0pCVwJ2TFi080qpq25V61YltPOk4tFbwAwnJxlPCTwtDgBJ/s640/DSC_0495.JPG" width="426" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in; text-align: left; text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in; text-align: left; text-indent: 0in;">
We were exhausted, but I reminded them we had a lot
more in store for today, so we better get it together. We walked down the long
line of souvenir stands. My mom picked up a few presents for Lorraine and
others, and I bought a couple things I missed getting last time.</div>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in; text-align: left; text-indent: 0in;">
My parents took the obligatory Pisa pictures before we headed to lunch.</div>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in; text-align: center; text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in; text-align: center; text-indent: 0in;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN3M6CpSKciH1YqQ0zTj9avtmgZFUSyLYjgen7mU3nlLlpP01xvNBSzZacPS9LdWSIJoIjX6LIoRE5ww4E6pmYF2H227a-XnGP04VUUfcDEDegTlRX4R84kw2n6fboxMCYAQizitpDKpMi/s1600/DSC_0499.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN3M6CpSKciH1YqQ0zTj9avtmgZFUSyLYjgen7mU3nlLlpP01xvNBSzZacPS9LdWSIJoIjX6LIoRE5ww4E6pmYF2H227a-XnGP04VUUfcDEDegTlRX4R84kw2n6fboxMCYAQizitpDKpMi/s320/DSC_0499.JPG" width="213" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcuNfKBOvL6TTBG_DRjopTzqDIlbskAEbZk-wur_7DZt0H7dxEZFj42KqaPklKLTXRHR86ESD7Myo4nylT6DTKT8zid0zWsF9aTMq8r8zP0fAIBLe7-8JMqvW30KebdK4BZ3xfjSszphir/s1600/DSC_0502.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcuNfKBOvL6TTBG_DRjopTzqDIlbskAEbZk-wur_7DZt0H7dxEZFj42KqaPklKLTXRHR86ESD7Myo4nylT6DTKT8zid0zWsF9aTMq8r8zP0fAIBLe7-8JMqvW30KebdK4BZ3xfjSszphir/s320/DSC_0502.JPG" width="213" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in; text-align: center; text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in; text-align: center; text-indent: 0in;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEganMnGhIgFjB2xQV9h6fxoSvG47z_NqZ0EPQHTYBKN0LQCGTWEoc9YaBlE5UwuN1w6WiTqVEVPZeU1GrbpBtESqG9efABmkVsFKc5DOsTa2thzW2q_J9SSCjLKPdq5bbIc8tZNaXBvnR71/s1600/DSC_0503.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEganMnGhIgFjB2xQV9h6fxoSvG47z_NqZ0EPQHTYBKN0LQCGTWEoc9YaBlE5UwuN1w6WiTqVEVPZeU1GrbpBtESqG9efABmkVsFKc5DOsTa2thzW2q_J9SSCjLKPdq5bbIc8tZNaXBvnR71/s640/DSC_0503.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in; text-align: left; text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in; text-align: left; text-indent: 0in;">
We went back to the same place I got pizza last time. It was
just as good. My parents liked it too. My dad said he wasn’t expecting it to be
good based on how it looked. It proved its worth. </div>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in; text-align: left; text-indent: 0in;">
Don’t judge a pizza by its appearance. </div>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in; text-align: left; text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in; text-align: left; text-indent: 0in;">
By now we were pretty much done with Pisa. And I was really
excited to get to Florence. We decided to take the bus back to the train
station just to save time. </div>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in; text-align: left; text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCoKJRkVCLn20ZzsRjDvPO8D0DYWrh5mDDyoxEuZIaOJU7q80yVyoVjD8ijKepuJ79-VRXd_ufNqsjia4_85h7JkYuGMcMiG0HncdqPSRCbV1-ZAnhvenaCEQi0bFxi9NSbakS6UbLKBUW/s1600/DSC_0505.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCoKJRkVCLn20ZzsRjDvPO8D0DYWrh5mDDyoxEuZIaOJU7q80yVyoVjD8ijKepuJ79-VRXd_ufNqsjia4_85h7JkYuGMcMiG0HncdqPSRCbV1-ZAnhvenaCEQi0bFxi9NSbakS6UbLKBUW/s640/DSC_0505.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in; text-align: left; text-indent: 0in;">
In the end, I’m not sure the bus made a huge difference.
The waitress pointed us in the right direction to find the stop, and once there
I asked a man at a food stand where to buy tickets. He told me on the bus.</div>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in; text-align: left; text-indent: 0in;">
We waited for almost 10 minutes. When we got on I asked him
how to pay. He said something about “finito,” and directed me past. I was a
little confused, but sat down. I guess that means we pay at the end.</div>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in; text-align: left; text-indent: 0in;">
But we didn’t reach that point. About three blocks away from
the train station, the driver pulled to a stop and opened the door. He
exchanged a couple of words I couldn’t hear with someone standing outside, then
without warning bolted. He literally just darted off the bus and took off
running — sprinting. The man outside didn’t seem fazed. He just stood around as
he was before we pulled up. I looked around at people on the bus. They looked
equally confused. I waited a minute or so, but didn’t see any sign of him.
“Guess we got a free ride,” I shrugged and led my parents off the bus. It was
the strangest thing. It didn’t even cross my mind until now that it was
actually April Fool’s Day. What a coincidence.</div>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in; text-align: left; text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in; text-align: left; text-indent: 0in;">
We walked the rest of the way to the train station. My cough
was starting to sound worse, so my dad bought me some cold medicine and cough
drops before we caught our ride back to Firenze! My parents napped most of the
hour ride, and I dozed off a couple times myself. We got into Santa Maria
Novella around 2 p.m. Still plenty of day left! The wonders of waking up at
3:30 a.m.</div>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="text-align: left;">
My
parents showed me their address, and I was surprised to realize I actually knew
where the street was. I checked with some police just to make sure and took
them a couple of blocks away to their Italian home! </div>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="text-align: left;">
They were
staying at an apartment owned by Barb’s brother. Barb is the woman my mom
backpacked with 30 years ago. The place was absolutely gorgeous and gigantic.
It had three bathrooms, two of which had lofts inside of them with desks or
beds above, two full baths, an entry way, living room, kitchen, dining room, <i>laundry room</i> (how strange to not have
your washer in your kitchen) and the best part: a rooftop terrace.</div>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="text-align: left;">
The
entire CCI family could have stayed there. It’d be a little cozy, but we like
each other well enough. Just give us a couple of air mattresses.</div>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="text-align: left;">
My
parents admitted defeat and took a nap. I took a shower instead to refuel.
Eventually we got back out there. We walked into town and around the Duomo. I
showed them my school and my apartment before heading up to Piazzale
Michelangelo. I wanted to do it that first day, but I didn’t suggest it because
I figured they were too tired. My mom actually proposed the idea! My dad wasn’t
wearing the right shoes, but we talked him into it. We stopped at Gelateria dei
Neri, and I spent everything I had left in my pockets to buy three gelatos.</div>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="text-align: left;">
I hadn’t
walked up to Piazzale Michelangelo in about a month. I wish I had time to do it more often. It was
beautiful as usual. </div>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDdaMqRSmijWe7fJyy8tXiC_VT0hJolxMFiVUFJ6-cFe08eaYqaE789W8B-gsOn2hjnqkQ5YOkCo5mF0AgCVj3qw8-V4S3voQl4c5BOZM3wWcy9hrAHZzYmwhQDroYjSA6nF_8FGoAuneK/s1600/DSC_0520.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDdaMqRSmijWe7fJyy8tXiC_VT0hJolxMFiVUFJ6-cFe08eaYqaE789W8B-gsOn2hjnqkQ5YOkCo5mF0AgCVj3qw8-V4S3voQl4c5BOZM3wWcy9hrAHZzYmwhQDroYjSA6nF_8FGoAuneK/s400/DSC_0520.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="text-align: left;">
We took our photos and stood around looking over the city.
I pointed out everything I knew on the skyline.</div>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmQzNvJ3XVvp1uxnGzZYBReODoBk_p6d3cdlnvSlTuIWRX151BELDpPsqQH6tNGIyBkqQ7h0ywV6P70LqE7Am3Jf9faiSMYIexdsgc2m4Aan3knRtm_D1HyJ-aQ5Ezia4tjhiQYufQcaw1/s1600/DSC_0528.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmQzNvJ3XVvp1uxnGzZYBReODoBk_p6d3cdlnvSlTuIWRX151BELDpPsqQH6tNGIyBkqQ7h0ywV6P70LqE7Am3Jf9faiSMYIexdsgc2m4Aan3knRtm_D1HyJ-aQ5Ezia4tjhiQYufQcaw1/s640/DSC_0528.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mumsie made friends with Pinocchio</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="text-align: left;">
Soon
hunger got the best of us, and we walked back down to the city. After a quick
pitstop in my apartment, I took them to Osteria del Gatto e la Volpe.</div>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="text-align: left;">
It was delicious
as usual. My dad didn’t get exactly what he was looking for, but he had all
week for incredible Italian food.</div>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="text-align: left;">
After
dinner we walked to Meta so they could have some food for breakfast. I wanted
to walk around more, but we were all tired and my dad told me my cough was
beginning to sound like the Bubonic Plague. I couldn’t really argue. Over the
next week I realized I could literally part a path for me through crowds with
the sound of my cough.</div>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="text-align: left;">
I led
them to the Duomo, and we said goodbye at the intersection for their street.
They were off to Rome for Monday and Tuesday. I wished them a safe trip and
walked home.</div>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="text-align: left;">
It was
such a great first day in the city. I hope they enjoyed it as much as I did!
How could anyone not? We’re in Florence!</div>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="text-align: left;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWZM9RrS1usww1u44AoISVpd7JtCAaUuUg2HXSjDkMf68SgvC_5bikRizgvrIYjFw0MENobqmY6YOATrw3cokhXsgE5Q_uJys1GPuzUXO-2tszLGJjNdiJqrb_a-5-5DoY94zOIKGpNRcW/s1600/DSC_0533.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWZM9RrS1usww1u44AoISVpd7JtCAaUuUg2HXSjDkMf68SgvC_5bikRizgvrIYjFw0MENobqmY6YOATrw3cokhXsgE5Q_uJys1GPuzUXO-2tszLGJjNdiJqrb_a-5-5DoY94zOIKGpNRcW/s640/DSC_0533.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj7BXz3fN94_dYb5vGGsDdD_seitjCgkoIzoypP-LeoLyCE76CAlYAYPundAsklwLQAreAxyznnLLLLvi0zw7TllBgamhlkPN0eWW6nUu-fnlagBbajKJ4x_hmxHRnVWPsrzNogWpKd21K/s1600/DSC_0534.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj7BXz3fN94_dYb5vGGsDdD_seitjCgkoIzoypP-LeoLyCE76CAlYAYPundAsklwLQAreAxyznnLLLLvi0zw7TllBgamhlkPN0eWW6nUu-fnlagBbajKJ4x_hmxHRnVWPsrzNogWpKd21K/s320/DSC_0534.JPG" width="320" /></a>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWVTET6bAGypwOEoL1W8tTy9IlthiOke85CDdS2kJcTVEsrzDFxs_rAP9zicYpKXykuk-T3ldSw-S1FR8xQJWGfMaSH5b7VUYH_e9-QkluGXhsvppR2YSKlaxJ5G5QTgKbqSGXl_z4s9oq/s1600/DSC_0536.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWVTET6bAGypwOEoL1W8tTy9IlthiOke85CDdS2kJcTVEsrzDFxs_rAP9zicYpKXykuk-T3ldSw-S1FR8xQJWGfMaSH5b7VUYH_e9-QkluGXhsvppR2YSKlaxJ5G5QTgKbqSGXl_z4s9oq/s320/DSC_0536.JPG" width="320" /></a>
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</div>Lydiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16657401452953073654noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5304175036627826090.post-12720990285044420952012-04-23T14:39:00.000-04:002013-03-16T10:22:03.627-04:00Diversity Diary #11<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
I turned in my diversity diaries this morning, but I realized I never included these videos in an entry.<br />
Last week, Nicoletta showed us these videos last week. It started out with a comical video of Englishmen going to Italy.<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="360" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/sD-44Cx1Iaw" width="640"></iframe><br />
<br />
This reminded her of another instructional video about Italian hand gestures. This is an actual study done on body language Italians often use. Some are obvious, some are fun and some are apparently offensive. We had fun watching them. If you have a few minutes, feel free to be entertained!<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="480" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/wEhLURFsfSg" width="640"></iframe>
<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="480" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/f-Br2-K8UaA" width="640"></iframe></div>Lydiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16657401452953073654noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5304175036627826090.post-91297355097027366962012-04-23T12:53:00.002-04:002013-03-16T10:22:03.743-04:00London 30 Years Later (almost)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
My mother actually didn't go to London until her second trip to Europe in 1984; so in all actuality this is London 28 years later.<br />
But I still worked hard to acquire 15 of these pictures, so I'm counting them in this project.<br />
My parents were in London with me. I met them there for a couple of days before escorting them back to Italy, where they stayed for a week. Besides the obvious joy of getting to see my parents, it was really cool to take these pictures with them. We got to base our itinerary on the photos. My mom finally got to see what she did to me with her crazy pictures. My dad was impressed by how well I've gotten this process down to an artform.<br />
"Wait. She was two more steps this way I believe.... YES! The third point there lines up with that street post."<br />
It was a lot of fun!<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC5t5CCjzyTPxdJVzZ6jqb6vlDya_ujSFX1YCTEhkkZz_03We5W6idY22ZZrbSE_AJeVX1fOn7efhjrnD1CQpbvXL6hB_NiHhXNkFKfGPya8XBRMUm2N6z58gkCOzAgICjdAQL_Q1Epx-t/s1600/PICT0009.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC5t5CCjzyTPxdJVzZ6jqb6vlDya_ujSFX1YCTEhkkZz_03We5W6idY22ZZrbSE_AJeVX1fOn7efhjrnD1CQpbvXL6hB_NiHhXNkFKfGPya8XBRMUm2N6z58gkCOzAgICjdAQL_Q1Epx-t/s640/PICT0009.jpg" width="487" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">London Aquarium (and now, the London Eye)<br />
This is probably one of my favorite photos of the project thus far.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaUOc5twHbJuvPYdXV_ArwmhFobw4ldSXpi8G7Awxl6UUA7r8Du-GXzT1oEV2VpQWh0On273-fM6ma9rJEzXNi2UKKR_UhxV0RDL7S3ss0vdvguGLE5deKzyQZtUTaTktqOiLcIOBxVENO/s1600/PICT0013.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="486" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaUOc5twHbJuvPYdXV_ArwmhFobw4ldSXpi8G7Awxl6UUA7r8Du-GXzT1oEV2VpQWh0On273-fM6ma9rJEzXNi2UKKR_UhxV0RDL7S3ss0vdvguGLE5deKzyQZtUTaTktqOiLcIOBxVENO/s640/PICT0013.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">Trafalgar Square</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8eEuPsXsuns64WaGJ-Vho1ng9gD2cAOf4JmTTet9caDeGPqNOFt4WecKT7O7k1ehbI1bqeOJg_BDbCbJJ5LCStt8qC6eWclJ1Rro-EvuEXHTBZVY1dxJyxw8Yc4YkjkVYstUNEfYGF5ZP/s1600/PICT0011.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="486" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8eEuPsXsuns64WaGJ-Vho1ng9gD2cAOf4JmTTet9caDeGPqNOFt4WecKT7O7k1ehbI1bqeOJg_BDbCbJJ5LCStt8qC6eWclJ1Rro-EvuEXHTBZVY1dxJyxw8Yc4YkjkVYstUNEfYGF5ZP/s640/PICT0011.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">Trafalgar Square<br />
I'm still convinced my mother was standing in the middle of the street to take this picture. I couldn't get it lined up right on either side of the intersection. I told her she knew I would be there 30 years later, and she must have had a death wish for me.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsGYydS2YMGRppEdWmXv_Tye10fRdljMJQ0JELdVUYSbzMDMq92vJRPSWOBSWZzK0_jmzr-fEac1_gUTE3TnsTMSh3zm1TRlJjW0UsxhApBznvmBvK8DuEwIRdbl2tQiStblKPQzFPLrdf/s1600/PICT0012.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsGYydS2YMGRppEdWmXv_Tye10fRdljMJQ0JELdVUYSbzMDMq92vJRPSWOBSWZzK0_jmzr-fEac1_gUTE3TnsTMSh3zm1TRlJjW0UsxhApBznvmBvK8DuEwIRdbl2tQiStblKPQzFPLrdf/s640/PICT0012.jpg" width="486" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">Trafalgar Square</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIMXgbrRamMaQjxmI-Ze6gIXQuLIwEdYm7-lgccGGLgnWMYXGuhkwjXrX6A6yHdHSnMdM4pQsZ2CNeJnwo3I2jo92iXks_IPGA66xtvI1X6YzkJfcQBZ-sIwGwicwaQtSxZ-LSWdUYDJf9/s1600/PICT0016.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIMXgbrRamMaQjxmI-Ze6gIXQuLIwEdYm7-lgccGGLgnWMYXGuhkwjXrX6A6yHdHSnMdM4pQsZ2CNeJnwo3I2jo92iXks_IPGA66xtvI1X6YzkJfcQBZ-sIwGwicwaQtSxZ-LSWdUYDJf9/s640/PICT0016.jpg" width="486" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Piccadilly Circus</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhok05JCLOw5Y8mUGBabhCResmLHr2mDHIe34G1B3FiFyz9b07dy3D5NvXYleHkrMPfX6IMj6rtcGTYoSy8AzZMCNPoTTR7D3oholRcaHtZFxDeMPewBrezBNV1hptGhbtp_l_UKmM74zlF/s1600/PICT0017.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="486" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhok05JCLOw5Y8mUGBabhCResmLHr2mDHIe34G1B3FiFyz9b07dy3D5NvXYleHkrMPfX6IMj6rtcGTYoSy8AzZMCNPoTTR7D3oholRcaHtZFxDeMPewBrezBNV1hptGhbtp_l_UKmM74zlF/s640/PICT0017.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Piccadilly Circus</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwuwYMc7eZL4dGyQlM6qCHXx0hqcJjwsrFMmNWVjzpkiAJny9TCfpqMC7z4_sF3vxVvcuKCCv4GmXkaapFl9WU6T8PEANpTob0W5paK_foQrgMKGs0k9NF_nqNPz0KDOyiq0bCZG8Na1Fv/s1600/PICT0019.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="487" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwuwYMc7eZL4dGyQlM6qCHXx0hqcJjwsrFMmNWVjzpkiAJny9TCfpqMC7z4_sF3vxVvcuKCCv4GmXkaapFl9WU6T8PEANpTob0W5paK_foQrgMKGs0k9NF_nqNPz0KDOyiq0bCZG8Na1Fv/s640/PICT0019.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;">Glasshouse Street<br />This took a while to find. Thankfully I could zoom in to see the street sign. The construction messed this one up a little bit, but I'm still glad I found it!</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Parliament<br />
Right down to the blue car.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Parliament</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Parliament</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLjEwtUkZZ83T5tYWO7j4TJkHcWGPCGc4OyR88RuptvOtyYSe6MFuyLLzcuNLfaX1M7s2wmpCwk2cCLgMRddMsfELkjvQFXGXGMt24lZIgyhtRrJ8yrmVD_PiXNDix7Q3p93rfYpzdl06F/s1600/PICT0003.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLjEwtUkZZ83T5tYWO7j4TJkHcWGPCGc4OyR88RuptvOtyYSe6MFuyLLzcuNLfaX1M7s2wmpCwk2cCLgMRddMsfELkjvQFXGXGMt24lZIgyhtRrJ8yrmVD_PiXNDix7Q3p93rfYpzdl06F/s640/PICT0003.jpg" width="488" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Parliament<br />
My mom snuck in this one!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Westminster Abbey</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tower of London</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tower of London</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tower Bridge</td></tr>
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<br /></div>Lydiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16657401452953073654noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5304175036627826090.post-22850797427672582922012-04-23T12:53:00.001-04:002013-03-16T10:22:03.655-04:00London Day 2<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpFirst" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="text-indent: 0in;">Jay spoiled us again with an incredible breakfast. Coffee,
juice, fruit, biscuits and scones with clotted cream.</span></div>
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I had never had clotted cream or even heard of it, but it was
really good. My dad kept saying how unappetizing the name sounded, but then
again we have sour cream, which sounds just as bad.</div>
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We got ready and took the tube to the London Eye, for which we had 10 a.m. tickets. We waited in the line for less than 10 minutes. About halfway through the length of the line, security was checking bags. They waved my dad and I to the left of the barrier that split the line into two. After we passed, they closed it off, leaving my mom on the other side. She ducked under and followed us. We completely bypassed the other side of the line. It was like fast track tickets at Disney World. We literally walked straight onto the capsule.</div>
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And up we went!</div>
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For those who happen to not know what the London Eye is, imagine a large-scale ferris wheel with giant glass eggs as the cart. Each egg capsule holds about 20 people I would estimate. It took about half an hour to go all the way around.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ1WZU3D3YOY0E75delZQ2M4M13kQC92nQ5Ie0o9sT6PuJ1RiaqUQ4LuoqPG7i5omjSkkURRIp9nfV3Ybl5Hein9Wm44kNhNYubyMLDRLZ7C9rhFPojWOfTRhJQJ2YHekncpjOmXRcVs1y/s1600/DSC_0015.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ1WZU3D3YOY0E75delZQ2M4M13kQC92nQ5Ie0o9sT6PuJ1RiaqUQ4LuoqPG7i5omjSkkURRIp9nfV3Ybl5Hein9Wm44kNhNYubyMLDRLZ7C9rhFPojWOfTRhJQJ2YHekncpjOmXRcVs1y/s640/DSC_0015.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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It was a pretty grey day, but I feel like that's how England is supposed to be. As we started, we could see Hungerford Bridge. The rest of the city folded out behind it as we climbed higher and higher.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihVDyJrnf0s_ReEMHaV9QmEkbXQqQsGdqhyWLYCV6ClUgSHsT1R_4GdRXLODyj6XnhZGPMCOAJ8O90cPzEj-YO3ZpsuYErWRqzttqLNX936wjEXPwyd0v8Z9yqTvg-F-4EijHB21LtG0xV/s1600/DSC_0017.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihVDyJrnf0s_ReEMHaV9QmEkbXQqQsGdqhyWLYCV6ClUgSHsT1R_4GdRXLODyj6XnhZGPMCOAJ8O90cPzEj-YO3ZpsuYErWRqzttqLNX936wjEXPwyd0v8Z9yqTvg-F-4EijHB21LtG0xV/s320/DSC_0017.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hungerford Bridge</td></tr>
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When we reached the top I looked at the capsule next to us. At first I laughed — I feel like they looked so ridiculous. Then I realized I was standing in the same thing and giggled to myself harder. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTgkk_Td9HWI5SLjZyLFKhOuy8kDbIdy6WPVmu49-EJr70BrQxMw6pTFkv6Hp81GrFlaoRAKibyl5N_6sNhzNbNm9xX1SQXXmtd60ydh8uSA3gz6cGMl0YDLFyZ1II8QhoTO3gkmP6buJh/s1600/DSC_0040.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTgkk_Td9HWI5SLjZyLFKhOuy8kDbIdy6WPVmu49-EJr70BrQxMw6pTFkv6Hp81GrFlaoRAKibyl5N_6sNhzNbNm9xX1SQXXmtd60ydh8uSA3gz6cGMl0YDLFyZ1II8QhoTO3gkmP6buJh/s320/DSC_0040.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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I collected myself and looked out at the view again. Parliament looked magnificent. I wasn't really prepared for seeing all of this before I came. I was more focused on geting to see my parents. I hardly even thought about all of the iconic things I'd be seeing. Everything became so much more breathtaking this way.</div>
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We got off the eye as security systematically walked in with mirrors to check under the bench to make sure no one left anything threatening. With our ticket we could see a "4-D experience" for free. Why not? We filed inside and shuffled along with the crowd. The show was about five minutes and basically a time lapse of the London Eye being lifted into place followed by a montage of nifty celebrations and such happening in the capsules and on the eye as a whole. 3-D birds flew at us, smoke machines filled the air with grey smoke and I think there may have been some glitter or bubbles. It was touristy, which was expected, but neat.<br />
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We went back outside to meet Jay. He was going to come with us to see the Guard Change now that we had the right day. We had a lot of ground to cover and a lot of crowds to work our way through, so we started power walking to Buckingham. We got to The Mall, the road that leads to the palace, and were walking alongside the procession of the guards. We were walking pretty briskly so we could get ahead of them, but they certainly weren't strolling along. My mom stopped to take a picture and video of them walking by, but Jay and my dad and I kept going. We reached a wall of people before we were anywhere near the palace. There was no way we'd be seeing it.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu5RdCM-drKU_QKOycivcR4_pDDPZtZ8JLYGNMIz7mqaIC-QQnEOO7Dezv4THx4tTBxlNvseXtlpoBeX9-7seMcLA9hR9vwhYrINkTZnk3QG1Zd-SNsuhV61CLcYPig3ezFniIlJH3z_W-/s1600/DSC_0094.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu5RdCM-drKU_QKOycivcR4_pDDPZtZ8JLYGNMIz7mqaIC-QQnEOO7Dezv4THx4tTBxlNvseXtlpoBeX9-7seMcLA9hR9vwhYrINkTZnk3QG1Zd-SNsuhV61CLcYPig3ezFniIlJH3z_W-/s400/DSC_0094.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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I zoomed in, raised my camera above the crowd and snapped a quick picture. It was the closest I got to seeing anything.<br />
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I wasn't too upset about not getting to see it. It certainly would have been something to see, but it wasn't on my list before I got there, so no big deal. I didn't need to let it get me down.</div>
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We eventually relocated my mom and worked our way back toward where we came.</div>
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Jay was heading to the hospital to see his partner, Liam. We walked as far as Parliament before parting ways. Here my mom and I took our photos in front of the telephone booth — necessary of course.</div>
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Then I dragged my parents back and forth from corner to corner to get several 30 Years Later pictures. Parliament was so much more ornate than I had even realized from a distance.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC6zY1jg41TT26ap4emaSW6cNxIyyYQUC62LSs3BQUfT-1WfF5DvjOpn0r_Unqdp_znO23UoHsFCuxR5bL75TRhStZzsk11KNOrXuDyS2T5SIp2C1iFoP4s1292pwiqILtonYVRLdV5TZN/s1600/DSC_0125.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC6zY1jg41TT26ap4emaSW6cNxIyyYQUC62LSs3BQUfT-1WfF5DvjOpn0r_Unqdp_znO23UoHsFCuxR5bL75TRhStZzsk11KNOrXuDyS2T5SIp2C1iFoP4s1292pwiqILtonYVRLdV5TZN/s640/DSC_0125.JPG" width="426" /></a></div>
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We walked across the street to see Westminster Abbey, but decided not to go inside because of both the price and our time constraints. There was a lot to go back to from yesterday.</div>
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It was still impressive from the outside.</div>
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We walked back around Parliament toward Westminster Bridge. We started to go over when I remembered there was a 30 Years Later picture from down the road to our left. My dad waited around while I power walked to find the right spot. My mom followed behind me.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRfmAxlq9yWSnJkyXKmjHePngcs4DN5gImaaJPJ9Si3quQSFzifyQfc1udxU11SBA6gqcL7aa_1l4rBAod6ouwlVxxXPPOx6eP8TNW65OxH8p6Ro2-tNMNTapxEx_F-9LtmfSuZWkWAGCh/s1600/DSC_0174.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRfmAxlq9yWSnJkyXKmjHePngcs4DN5gImaaJPJ9Si3quQSFzifyQfc1udxU11SBA6gqcL7aa_1l4rBAod6ouwlVxxXPPOx6eP8TNW65OxH8p6Ro2-tNMNTapxEx_F-9LtmfSuZWkWAGCh/s640/DSC_0174.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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I kept thinking I had it, but it was always a little farther down. I was determined to get this one because I knew the London Eye, which was obviously not around in the 80s, would now take up a good portion of the picture. It would be a great comparison shot. </div>
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Eventually I did get it though! (Check out the <a href="http://lydiaislost.blogspot.it/2012/04/london-30-years-later-almost.html" target="_blank">next post</a>)</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDm6Vi3y9i_72VejgGQ9vQ57-2HukjUtUsmdgNZZQNvFUj9aQHvqiXPiZPytQsIYqKie2YWQK6FoKc8cp9iZrYyCeMfqe_cAhfgOhdovCUQtW6ZV0mCBbFlegj7YcCadt0sdxRKodCi_6_/s1600/DSC_0175.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDm6Vi3y9i_72VejgGQ9vQ57-2HukjUtUsmdgNZZQNvFUj9aQHvqiXPiZPytQsIYqKie2YWQK6FoKc8cp9iZrYyCeMfqe_cAhfgOhdovCUQtW6ZV0mCBbFlegj7YcCadt0sdxRKodCi_6_/s400/DSC_0175.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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Mumsie and I walked back to find my dad, stopping a couple of times for pictures such as this one:<br />
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And people wonder why I'm weird. We walked back to meet my dad, then hopped on the tube to the Tower of London!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTwSDadwqZgfKITq_RmIr6cplBH25AAtxWofYfvChN6bQr6iRcWv91SLZnc5F2LxRiBVAAkXN8zwxzILfBwharfBcxIG6alr9pL3paU76s3zbHcff17LrYiysNjwOpoR5o1US-wpkGkJt6/s1600/DSC_0197.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTwSDadwqZgfKITq_RmIr6cplBH25AAtxWofYfvChN6bQr6iRcWv91SLZnc5F2LxRiBVAAkXN8zwxzILfBwharfBcxIG6alr9pL3paU76s3zbHcff17LrYiysNjwOpoR5o1US-wpkGkJt6/s640/DSC_0197.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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We got there in time for the 1:30 p.m. Yeoman Warder tour. We walked under arch of the Middle Tower and waited for our guide.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUDASisiwbnCyGCIlnkSSSFflCGtxGf3HBuEluKiyizcnhxcrNRfOdg6SHEQ3aerDLWi0uQwhNTkyM40tZBrDGr0uui8oeiIR7tErdQiwnJMq1kicQahCNEaVkDEvCjBFfq7fQi9kUjfDz/s1600/DSC_0198.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUDASisiwbnCyGCIlnkSSSFflCGtxGf3HBuEluKiyizcnhxcrNRfOdg6SHEQ3aerDLWi0uQwhNTkyM40tZBrDGr0uui8oeiIR7tErdQiwnJMq1kicQahCNEaVkDEvCjBFfq7fQi9kUjfDz/s320/DSC_0198.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">There was a trebuchet to the left right inside the entrance.</td></tr>
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The crowd was pretty large by the time our tour started. The guide stood on a platform and started to tell the history of the Tower. He spent a lot of time trying to get loud responses from the crowd, which made me lose interest pretty quickly. He herded us under the Byward tower and made a stop at the Bell Tower. He told us that a lot of the guides and their families actually live inside the tower today, which really surprised me.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">Byward Tower</td></tr>
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Next we rounded the corner to Traitors' Gate, through which traitors/prisoners entered the Tower by barge.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixVpiiWDTue-w_DcL__mWixYAeN-92PK3AHtKqdKofGL5HKF3pXzomU_TuJdK2VyiSTcUXm-2Qp91cWU5Rqj0EIGziXOe4NvuhEDBSD9Ji6gqNazjC_R3iv7Yxe_KIv99BO1xlc1v2GDgV/s1600/DSC_0210.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixVpiiWDTue-w_DcL__mWixYAeN-92PK3AHtKqdKofGL5HKF3pXzomU_TuJdK2VyiSTcUXm-2Qp91cWU5Rqj0EIGziXOe4NvuhEDBSD9Ji6gqNazjC_R3iv7Yxe_KIv99BO1xlc1v2GDgV/s640/DSC_0210.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our tour guide standing in front of the Traitors' Gate</td></tr>
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The guide continued to focus a lot on engaging and entertaining the crowd, but not with topics relevant to where we were. He spend about 10 minutes asking everyone which country they were from then cracking a joke about it. One or two would have been entertaining, but he just kept going. He had completely lost me by now.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIsG_nsgZqMDSXBjfFd9r7w5Km4m-bO4Syk0FtpBV7JiQ3kJrDLS3D8saHmqb4aJlQspqd5gXHfB1umzPCOMYiKT0KSLt7zHsv_FsksWSSyEB2MTN_Tcg7KB9GFUWKTsXs1xFBpxr69x-m/s1600/DSC_0214.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIsG_nsgZqMDSXBjfFd9r7w5Km4m-bO4Syk0FtpBV7JiQ3kJrDLS3D8saHmqb4aJlQspqd5gXHfB1umzPCOMYiKT0KSLt7zHsv_FsksWSSyEB2MTN_Tcg7KB9GFUWKTsXs1xFBpxr69x-m/s400/DSC_0214.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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I followed the group up a set of stairs, then left to wander around on my own while my parents stayed to listen.<br />
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Under the grey sky and next to the stone buildings, the grass of the Tower Green and blue of the Gaoler's House doors popped out of the scenery.<br />
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At the site of the execution block sits a contemporary memorial in remembrance those who died there. A poem wraps around the base: <i>‘Gentle visitor pause awhile : where you stand death cut away the light of many days : here jewelled names were broken from the vivid thread of life : may they rest in peace while we walk the generations around their strife and courage : under there restless skies’.</i></div>
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The tour ended inside the Royal Chapel of St. Peter ad Vincula, the burial place for some of the Tower's most famous prisoners, include Ann Boleyn.</div>
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We walked back outside to explore on our own. The sky was looking more and more foreboding, so we went inside the Waterloo Barracks to see the Crown Jewels.</div>
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Not surprisingly, we weren't allowed to take any pictures inside. Maybe I just don't have the right perspective here, but I found the entire exhibit garish. It's a disgusting display of wealth. I understand the romanticized idea of monarchy and queens, and it's great in theory, but it doesn't make sense to me. Political connotations aside, I don't think I'll ever understand dumping so much wealth into a crown when citizens could benefit from that money. This certainly isn't exclusive to monarchs; it's how government seems to work everywhere. The crown jewels are just a such a visual depiction of the phenomenon. Maybe I'm just missing something.</div>
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We walked around a little more before grabbing a small lunch inside. It was cafe-style and subpar, but it stifled the growls coming from my stomach. Next we climbed up to the inner curtain wall of the Tower.</div>
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From here we could see the Tower Bridge and begin the East Wall Walk. It links the Salt Tower, the Broad Arrow Tower, the Constable Tower and the Martin Tower all together.</div>
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I was hoping to get to the top of at least one of the towers, but a gate blocked every single one. </div>
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Still, the view of the city from where we were was pretty great.</div>
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It was getting pretty late, and we still had lots of things to see, so we left the Tower and walked over to the Tower Bridge.<br />
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If we had had a little bit more time, I would have loved to go to the top of the bridge. (Of course)<br />
I'll do it next time, for sure.<br />
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After a few minutes out on the very windy bridge, we took the tube to Piccadilly.</div>
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First we made a quick pitstop at Covent Garden, where Jay thought one of mom's pictures was. </div>
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We couldn't find it, so instead got gelato where my parents had Thursday. It was among the better gelato I've had this semester, but it's no Gelateria dei Neri. While we were enjoying our gelato, I looked closer at the picture that was supposed to be in Covent Garden. I realized I could see a street name if I zoomed in: Glasshouse Street. We pulled out a map and eventually located the street near Piccadilly Circus.<br />
We finished our treat and headed that way where we were supposed to meet Jay anyway. Along the way, we passed the Wyndham's Theatre where we saw "The King's Speech" the night before.<br />
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Piccadilly was incredibly busy, making my 30 Years Later mission more of a challenge than usual, but my mom trailed behind me in circles as I searched for her photos.</div>
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My dad stayed behind to wait for Jay. I got the photos I needed in the square, but I was determined to find the one for Glasshouse Street.</div>
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I found it pretty quickly, but not where the photo was. An entire block of it was closed for construction. I was about to give up, but I decided it was worth a shot to go around the block and up one intersection farther. My mom followed reluctantly, scolding me for making us late, as I half ran down the road.</div>
I rounded the corner and almost squealed with joy to see the intersection. There were actually two photos taken at this spot, but construction made one of them impossible to retake. I have no idea what the significance was or why mumsie decided to take a picture of that, but not Buckingham. But at least she wasn't standing in the middle of a busy intersection to take it this time.<br />
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Satisfied with my recreation, we hurried back to meet dad and Jay.<br />
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From Piccadilly, Jay led us to Soho Square where we had dinner reservations at a Thai restaurant. I'd been craving Thai for weeks. I was so excited I practically skipped there.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDXHOxGZ0ElTg4Nm3DQ7DAOZ2sDEypLhLx_ZobVKw1w12tM7xVVOKIstkBEaUkd_FZCIrgDrLJvqmiZ8GUxU4bmdBAq05DTj5RcIvY5XhtfWXRTgJr16n5XChDHlWBsu2dwhhrd2VPoumY/s1600/DSC_0403.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDXHOxGZ0ElTg4Nm3DQ7DAOZ2sDEypLhLx_ZobVKw1w12tM7xVVOKIstkBEaUkd_FZCIrgDrLJvqmiZ8GUxU4bmdBAq05DTj5RcIvY5XhtfWXRTgJr16n5XChDHlWBsu2dwhhrd2VPoumY/s400/DSC_0403.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I have no idea what this is, but we passed it along the way. It made me laugh.</td></tr>
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The thai food was even better than the expectation I had worked up in my mind. After dinner we walked over to Palace Theatre to see the display for Singin' in the Rain Jay had told us about.</div>
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We grabbed a cab home, and I took pictures out the window.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkeoucVHFxNPNYGZc6PBkbaS93nqZuNu2lHd9hswfbRrcvlbBpIo0LGbacxJ10a9TIF2CqFfCGKD1kAmg5ap95wqlU6zgBkVqZ817D94c_yep_OLsNRvrMSyOxYDQ_LNG5JkHmpLo863aB/s1600/DSC_0440.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkeoucVHFxNPNYGZc6PBkbaS93nqZuNu2lHd9hswfbRrcvlbBpIo0LGbacxJ10a9TIF2CqFfCGKD1kAmg5ap95wqlU6zgBkVqZ817D94c_yep_OLsNRvrMSyOxYDQ_LNG5JkHmpLo863aB/s320/DSC_0440.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSGImpLUlMRU_QmN_0TWrjgmW7HeGDfbQypzmA3ScHpu32N6sdiM7-VUNNKt5iEVfB8ZyEi7BIopwRlJVYLNJ_k3gIHKUG4LKkojBqr3PXYOZIgnD8zZnJlQEwizSdhP7oWa7tKA-Z-hpX/s1600/DSC_0448.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSGImpLUlMRU_QmN_0TWrjgmW7HeGDfbQypzmA3ScHpu32N6sdiM7-VUNNKt5iEVfB8ZyEi7BIopwRlJVYLNJ_k3gIHKUG4LKkojBqr3PXYOZIgnD8zZnJlQEwizSdhP7oWa7tKA-Z-hpX/s320/DSC_0448.JPG" width="320" /></a>
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The driver dropped us off at the end of the block, and we walked back as night fell.<br />
I had to wake up at 3:30 a.m. for our flight to Pisa, so I just packed and went to sleep.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCpBOuJeph0-lMq-2ZayYJWfybXjU751KeA0gZ7H5OpoXq4QbyXKqdX8VU88i-6CvqHowbmQrsBMDUH9F0IZE2lu0mGYXNmapnyT1XcMJn3u9nJBPyhr9kPZO4nS8Bq0Cvt-nHvoBFPGyz/s1600/DSC_0459.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCpBOuJeph0-lMq-2ZayYJWfybXjU751KeA0gZ7H5OpoXq4QbyXKqdX8VU88i-6CvqHowbmQrsBMDUH9F0IZE2lu0mGYXNmapnyT1XcMJn3u9nJBPyhr9kPZO4nS8Bq0Cvt-nHvoBFPGyz/s320/DSC_0459.JPG" width="320" /></a>
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It was an awesome introduction to a city I hope to see plenty more of in the future.</div>Lydiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16657401452953073654noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5304175036627826090.post-63006149436419253122012-04-22T21:17:00.001-04:002013-03-16T10:22:03.706-04:00Diversity Diary #10<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Friday the 13th<br />
I’m not a huge believer in luck. I’m not really much of one at
all. I prefer the idea that I make my own path. Consequences come from my own
decisions. I’m not going to rely on some distant unattainable magic to get
results.
<br />
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: 0in;">
Subsequently, I’m not fazed by superstitions. Bring on the
black cats, broken mirrors and ladders. I dry my umbrella open inside, what’s
it to you?</div>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: 0in;">
Friday the 13th has always seemed ridiculous to me.
I forget it’s even an issue until people start blaming everyday mishaps on this
black voodoo that clouds the date. </div>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: 0in;">
Italy isn’t lacking in this superstition. But it’s not Friday
the 13th that gets them in a tizzy — Friday the 17th. bum bum bummm. </div>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: 0in;">
I was in Capri Friday the 13th and heard plenty of
my fellow travel companions blaming the unfortunately crappy weather on the
date. I asked a shopkeeper her opinion. She just stared at me with a confused
look on her face until I remembered that Italy’s unlucky number is 17.</div>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpLast" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: 0in;">
I think it’s funny that each culture has this dark date, but
the fact that they’re different numbers here and in the states makes it feel
all the more arbitrary. </div>
<span style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12pt;">Still it’s fun to
realize/find differences that are actually the same idea, just with a twist.</span>
</div>Lydiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16657401452953073654noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5304175036627826090.post-53611379159850166312012-04-22T19:57:00.000-04:002013-03-16T10:22:03.693-04:00Welcome to London!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Thursday evening I landed in London Gatwick Airport around 8
p.m. My parents and I would be staying with my mom’s friend from college, Jay.
I called his house to let them know I landed, and would be heading into town on
the train.</div>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: 0in;">
I exchanged some euros to pounds, crying internally at the
exchange rate, and followed a maze of signs to the Gatwick Express.</div>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: 0in;">
The train was surprisingly nice with big plush seats. I
couldn’t complain. I arrived in Victoria Station about half an hour later and
shuffled along toward the exit with the crowd. I saw my dad beyond the gate
craning his head to find me. I worked my way through the turnstile to see Jay
and my mom nearby. </div>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: 0in;">
It was so great to see them again. After many hugs and an
introduction to Jay — who I apparently met when I was younger — we headed
outside.</div>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: 0in;">
Jay caught a taxi for us. He leaned in the left window of the
car to talk to the driver. I thought to myself, he’s getting pretty close if
he’s leaning through the window. It wasn’t until I climbed into the back of the
cab that I remembered being in England meant the driver sits on the right side.</div>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: 0in;">
Wait. I’m in England. I’M IN LONDON.</div>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: 0in;">
After a few hours in airports and a plane, I hadn’t really thought
about where I was going. I got excited all over again.</div>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: 0in;">
The taxi ride was short, and we were inside Jay’s beautiful
home within about 15 minutes. We never ended up getting to meet his partner,
who was in the hospital sick all weekend. Next time I’m in London.</div>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: 0in;">
I put my backpack in what would be my room for the next couple
of nights, and settled into the couch. Jay brought my parents and I cheese and
wine, both of which were delicious, while he made us dinner.</div>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: 0in;">
Even though Greece had given me a week-long break from Italian
food, it still wasn’t enough. Jay’s dinner of baked potatoes, asparagus and
mushrooms was perfect. I wish I could cook that well — or well at all.</div>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpLast" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: 0in;">
We talked for a little while, but my parents, who were still
pretty jet-lagged, headed to bed early. I followed shortly. It had been a long
day for me too.<br />
<br />
<br />
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<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpFirst" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: 0in;">
<b>Friday</b> morning we woke up to a wonderful breakfast from Jay.</div>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: 0in;">
Coffee, fruit, juice, pastries — all delicious and fresh.</div>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle">
It was a
good start to the day. We walked out of his flat, and I saw for the first time
where I really was. The rows of apartments were exactly how I pictured England. </div>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1knwUUOffIOocMUuPe_Z6hI-pUtYXpAR-EK5HPM5CxnSedT6IvQMnsoWJnMu-Kl6wrDPQwZixd9FDVh8OgxfCZeedEdHxWxtHmEhA6r4cnqcV1_JwUYPAFvyBaJwZtLG6W9XAz5dYNDMe/s1600/DSC_0012.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1knwUUOffIOocMUuPe_Z6hI-pUtYXpAR-EK5HPM5CxnSedT6IvQMnsoWJnMu-Kl6wrDPQwZixd9FDVh8OgxfCZeedEdHxWxtHmEhA6r4cnqcV1_JwUYPAFvyBaJwZtLG6W9XAz5dYNDMe/s320/DSC_0012.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle">
We walked through the quiet street to a “tube” station (the metro for those who
aren’t up on British lingo). My dad bought us day passes, and we were on our
way!</div>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpLast">
We started
off in Trafalgar Square, which I realized was the location of three of my mom’s
pictures. I was able to get two while my parents stretched and prepared for our day of walking. Good thing I
was off taking pictures. I didn’t have to be associated with this nonsense:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVGDWu3hTp7IOreFa-cs8nN4bgVwPCtZBOD_3OnE5eUR3-j27HZtKXdNv962fmbsACME2p1QM3ZQCuN_AVrC6fwptr4rC86yPPFQSe99c0fmhG7pphbeGyqxMroWsGEmhiB1D3orIisdXg/s1600/DSC_0485.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVGDWu3hTp7IOreFa-cs8nN4bgVwPCtZBOD_3OnE5eUR3-j27HZtKXdNv962fmbsACME2p1QM3ZQCuN_AVrC6fwptr4rC86yPPFQSe99c0fmhG7pphbeGyqxMroWsGEmhiB1D3orIisdXg/s320/DSC_0485.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<div class="MsoNoteLevel1" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: 0in;">
We crossed the street to take the final one. I kept running back and forth
from one side to the other, but couldn’t figure out where she took the picture.
I’m convinced she was in the middle of the street. I did my best, and we moved
on. </div>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: 0in;">
We walked under Admiralty Arch toward Buckingham Palace.</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMcXilsn86e8qVxO092GRGevFfU52RRT1xvvlWozSpFKPDyjkXIYm6SqTr3g6DrIFsXm5TrBA6Q5ewnQ_WD-dNwSOEn0L-R9biJ3Jp_U4OWZp8jLL22q0CxWNJDquh05iOkBKYsRV4eQzr/s1600/DSC_0507.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMcXilsn86e8qVxO092GRGevFfU52RRT1xvvlWozSpFKPDyjkXIYm6SqTr3g6DrIFsXm5TrBA6Q5ewnQ_WD-dNwSOEn0L-R9biJ3Jp_U4OWZp8jLL22q0CxWNJDquh05iOkBKYsRV4eQzr/s400/DSC_0507.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">There were several of mumsie's London pictures I just couldn't decipher.<br />
It was fun making her help me figure it out. Gave her a taste of what she<br />
put me through with her strange pictures. Plus it's just nice to have help!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
We had time before the Changing of the Guards, so we took our time walking down The Mall — the road that leads to Buckingham. The red road was lined with trees and Union Jack flags. It was picturesque of castles, queens and London.<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnzbC6g9IHbZ-R6Sjq8hVy9hZ91L5o8agy6rYcBdoHqRQvEDWqzMO0ZFQJzEibSrkrwA5W8zb9GLp184BoQROg6AZtMgOsgykMi81OLPOe7OljLqm0_YXuWgDs4fal8pja4oS7VuOdfbhn/s1600/DSC_0524.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnzbC6g9IHbZ-R6Sjq8hVy9hZ91L5o8agy6rYcBdoHqRQvEDWqzMO0ZFQJzEibSrkrwA5W8zb9GLp184BoQROg6AZtMgOsgykMi81OLPOe7OljLqm0_YXuWgDs4fal8pja4oS7VuOdfbhn/s400/DSC_0524.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
St. James Park sprawls to the left of The Mall. We meandered through there for a bit.<span style="text-indent: 0in;"> It was more green than I had seen in
weeks. Everything was so vibrant, and despite the other people
milling about, peaceful.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBy-v9jbp163PZAZYNSEwzZ14zQB4FdSiVDBV-122R-cKCNG0Yeoikd-xavkXJinpDjMvOMK5fU_vbSIHseYi6-gjejxL44acWiyMgSYb8BvRqRamyt-BhSllFPjPrje63XCUkjpavLxYq/s1600/DSC_0520.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBy-v9jbp163PZAZYNSEwzZ14zQB4FdSiVDBV-122R-cKCNG0Yeoikd-xavkXJinpDjMvOMK5fU_vbSIHseYi6-gjejxL44acWiyMgSYb8BvRqRamyt-BhSllFPjPrje63XCUkjpavLxYq/s640/DSC_0520.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpFirst" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: 0in;">
We headed up to Buckingham and pushed through crowds. My mom
and I found a place up at the gates with a good view just in time. A huge group
swarmed in and closed in the space behind us. A few minutes later my dad, who
had gone to find coffee, found his way toward us. It turns out the Guard Change
wouldn’t be happening. It was only every other day during the off-season, and
we were there on the wrong day. </div>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpLast" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: 0in;">
Oh well, I still saw Buckingham.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCvprQ0_eRvAVTnblsDInMp23RDmPZGrfeXNSmArL1P12V7BXiT9DPrvXGnZZkfxphAGElqSuzf7yZW-6AW_quQN885bLxj3nUpCv9fDKqZOXD7eYVnjDL5J_paatkpjzYxJjYkIxKnMs2/s1600/DSC_0589.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCvprQ0_eRvAVTnblsDInMp23RDmPZGrfeXNSmArL1P12V7BXiT9DPrvXGnZZkfxphAGElqSuzf7yZW-6AW_quQN885bLxj3nUpCv9fDKqZOXD7eYVnjDL5J_paatkpjzYxJjYkIxKnMs2/s640/DSC_0589.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpFirst" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: 0in;">
I snapped a quick picture of the guard and squeezed out of the
clueless crowd. </div>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpFirst" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: 0in;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYMp_pDXJhocrTUHOOTQuk9fo8xOu0oTLIzn0LXphr9ol3e6q8Y8fMu969GP1cTFjo2FF6YXEuyLUqchDlJkA7pIpS-o3tLQ0Ujf03UurxSLiYgVojVt4MKWJzJ__YNNqyto18kXuyuD7p/s1600/DSC_0599.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYMp_pDXJhocrTUHOOTQuk9fo8xOu0oTLIzn0LXphr9ol3e6q8Y8fMu969GP1cTFjo2FF6YXEuyLUqchDlJkA7pIpS-o3tLQ0Ujf03UurxSLiYgVojVt4MKWJzJ__YNNqyto18kXuyuD7p/s320/DSC_0599.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpFirst" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: 0in;">
We walked farther past the palace along several streets. I had
no idea where we were but didn’t mind.</div>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: 0in;">
We ducked into a small café for coffee and tea. I stuck with
cappuccino but promised myself I’d try English tea before I left.</div>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpLast" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: 0in;">
By then, we decided it was time to find a double-decker bus
tour. We walked a few more blocks until we found a stop for the appropriately
named Big Bus Tour. We climbed to the top level and sat in the sun. We listened
to a tour guide through headphones plugged into individual radios on the back
of all the seats. Each of the eight channels gave the same pre-recorded
information about the city in a different language. I tried to listen in
Italian a few times throughout the tour, but I wasn’t really getting anything
out of it. I still wish I could be bilingual.</div>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpLast" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpLast" style="margin-left: 0in; text-align: center; text-indent: 0in;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVx1mRQnDoBN4IqqGAx9C1XfAXSdF2ZbbOS_qiDdPtu7isnE2YdLO_t9zbqzlL8sg0A6cmKqXhUVhcieX0mdWTttghnPOvE9u3zmecMFATbJR94QMUCAdYbrQShyphenhyphen28C3lmeJAiiuPx00jg/s1600/DSC_0656.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVx1mRQnDoBN4IqqGAx9C1XfAXSdF2ZbbOS_qiDdPtu7isnE2YdLO_t9zbqzlL8sg0A6cmKqXhUVhcieX0mdWTttghnPOvE9u3zmecMFATbJR94QMUCAdYbrQShyphenhyphen28C3lmeJAiiuPx00jg/s640/DSC_0656.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpLast" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpLast" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: 0in;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: 0in;">
We rode up and down streets all full of incredible architecture. I
couldn’t tell you the names of any of the countless styles we passed, but they
were all beautiful and different from the last.</div>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: 0in;">
It turned out to be a great way to see the city. It was the most "touristy" thing I've done here, but there's no way I would have been able to see even a third of what I did if we were walking. <span style="text-indent: 0in;">Although it was a little cold on top of the bus, I didn't mind.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip_Znxi3aKu4bYi2fG9Caovj_2xOy6edLYtuqlNTC9Haki7hQX58daFZGfDsXZUQKknc5uTO9-ywy9ELiR2x1gStnoV-BKiEI85u9tfBE-2W2WCLmgik8LXf-K2i2UWiIaL5qaZTYVSJPL/s1600/DSC_0614.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip_Znxi3aKu4bYi2fG9Caovj_2xOy6edLYtuqlNTC9Haki7hQX58daFZGfDsXZUQKknc5uTO9-ywy9ELiR2x1gStnoV-BKiEI85u9tfBE-2W2WCLmgik8LXf-K2i2UWiIaL5qaZTYVSJPL/s320/DSC_0614.JPG" width="320" /></a>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0rznykhMt-KQIZT1-nx2NhlHFslNV7gpKKrjismsbcdWhtTVYe_P6dO0AhnoJ8vSuc0ZH-J9wD1C0c2HQpssmY_ZY5QyZk6a_rJSs_4MOzyeUYiyAMdyqlrlV-bypR5qtHhG_Av6RHGmj/s1600/DSC_0671.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0rznykhMt-KQIZT1-nx2NhlHFslNV7gpKKrjismsbcdWhtTVYe_P6dO0AhnoJ8vSuc0ZH-J9wD1C0c2HQpssmY_ZY5QyZk6a_rJSs_4MOzyeUYiyAMdyqlrlV-bypR5qtHhG_Av6RHGmj/s320/DSC_0671.JPG" width="320" /></a>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggT865q8PWMtkwU9Z2GHoHKs5k8c7kzJZAfJPOGljDYzQPGPak5FsG5wLcSf6UNmVZ9MZiEnP87kFJPUN3asiDqqbVt-_dwCICehYZWvS8mDP77UJ4H3KxeH7uDoh006C2D9l-CQG7YwTI/s1600/DSC_0831.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggT865q8PWMtkwU9Z2GHoHKs5k8c7kzJZAfJPOGljDYzQPGPak5FsG5wLcSf6UNmVZ9MZiEnP87kFJPUN3asiDqqbVt-_dwCICehYZWvS8mDP77UJ4H3KxeH7uDoh006C2D9l-CQG7YwTI/s320/DSC_0831.JPG" width="320" /></a>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjJu1i9km8hi978rqiBMVzd7r5pQLMVmlIULAs9whkUM6o8QlzUCD6z6kkcat9N0eTLHniYGh_rFt-2py_PKbgtiOVw1hvMAVOewc0CzewbkIfv4c-Sxh2CVW5NMgQvk5kl1jUnpTmKDh_/s1600/DSC_0630.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjJu1i9km8hi978rqiBMVzd7r5pQLMVmlIULAs9whkUM6o8QlzUCD6z6kkcat9N0eTLHniYGh_rFt-2py_PKbgtiOVw1hvMAVOewc0CzewbkIfv4c-Sxh2CVW5NMgQvk5kl1jUnpTmKDh_/s320/DSC_0630.JPG" width="320" /></a>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6QCgfq2aiByqdxeJowCCpWDnR96TwboeGlANdSsrR6QGiRjyixa3aMdFAgy2oqDs8D14PNhPLQIFU6C9Zj_CXnETT4eGriqNTsBWELuJrnaIZiavzidDGmhdr43aQFa0hBcmbQgJz23gi/s1600/DSC_0707.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6QCgfq2aiByqdxeJowCCpWDnR96TwboeGlANdSsrR6QGiRjyixa3aMdFAgy2oqDs8D14PNhPLQIFU6C9Zj_CXnETT4eGriqNTsBWELuJrnaIZiavzidDGmhdr43aQFa0hBcmbQgJz23gi/s320/DSC_0707.JPG" width="320" /></a>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPzC5JtThmBEwd5QiWdCz1v6diP5IY6fSgPuymfq6w_H5GSBgpRhKb2eDRDOC-CmIlkrWBLlr0sBZgBtp3WgfW7aFHnl7BILIJ9YtMzfEcqsWcyO185K4ZMWpeMUZvP-hIWB-OhyUELQXf/s1600/DSC_0729.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPzC5JtThmBEwd5QiWdCz1v6diP5IY6fSgPuymfq6w_H5GSBgpRhKb2eDRDOC-CmIlkrWBLlr0sBZgBtp3WgfW7aFHnl7BILIJ9YtMzfEcqsWcyO185K4ZMWpeMUZvP-hIWB-OhyUELQXf/s320/DSC_0729.JPG" width="320" /></a>
</td><td><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSkda9zAONzGfVWiXagHBe0Fo_RiKO30aSVcjY8tHdjOZtCgkYbOpWO6LbTMrj9H5asb51qIESZ_1tKE1F7rvgRP7g2sW-x5tJlwV1fjXoxdp1WGP2baZNm8yPvzvRc_0qlcC9uaENx0Ah/s1600/DSC_0681.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSkda9zAONzGfVWiXagHBe0Fo_RiKO30aSVcjY8tHdjOZtCgkYbOpWO6LbTMrj9H5asb51qIESZ_1tKE1F7rvgRP7g2sW-x5tJlwV1fjXoxdp1WGP2baZNm8yPvzvRc_0qlcC9uaENx0Ah/s320/DSC_0681.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXCZoiPzI6EE_fqEvv4WNRkrsOsuYohIrMXr5AW93T8zgF3IuT9ES-NDyyPQCe5tux9T4Ulh4hyMpcD_SMkgVJO07z2U9DN2ItMWOcRxre_QWtODZ0F7L23IrjfuTCsskxD-f1ys76aBpq/s1600/DSC_0626.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXCZoiPzI6EE_fqEvv4WNRkrsOsuYohIrMXr5AW93T8zgF3IuT9ES-NDyyPQCe5tux9T4Ulh4hyMpcD_SMkgVJO07z2U9DN2ItMWOcRxre_QWtODZ0F7L23IrjfuTCsskxD-f1ys76aBpq/s640/DSC_0626.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Marble Arch.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-Tifzq2R7oNBV1Iui3WwUG1DQLmExvYh9CmwuakLtvOKCwTl6Rn2nw4QOVW54tnFww8_Fh3WwdJYrN_9LMjkljFEsvwKPKc-U_qj3ijRdfONPheJd5LiIDBtFl2-5pfbwy08AAN9PDyP7/s1600/DSC_0628.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-Tifzq2R7oNBV1Iui3WwUG1DQLmExvYh9CmwuakLtvOKCwTl6Rn2nw4QOVW54tnFww8_Fh3WwdJYrN_9LMjkljFEsvwKPKc-U_qj3ijRdfONPheJd5LiIDBtFl2-5pfbwy08AAN9PDyP7/s320/DSC_0628.JPG" width="320" /></a>
</td><td><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4JodcbACU5ILGek8MOA90OZeseb2PgoMgD9arTfg0t-Anku1cGovjlc9R-PQeV6BpQb7bOa0ntHrHsEnAACTNbz6tw3jumyf8D6pOLnTgPMWnPT7PWLRGndSvYBzmJVeC42Nks3LRQWM9/s1600/DSC_0813.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4JodcbACU5ILGek8MOA90OZeseb2PgoMgD9arTfg0t-Anku1cGovjlc9R-PQeV6BpQb7bOa0ntHrHsEnAACTNbz6tw3jumyf8D6pOLnTgPMWnPT7PWLRGndSvYBzmJVeC42Nks3LRQWM9/s320/DSC_0813.JPG" width="320" /></a>
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<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpFirst" style="margin-left: 0in; text-align: left; text-indent: 0in;">
After about an hour and a half, we got off the bus to find
more coffee for my dad. It was a hop on/hop off tour, so we’d just catch the
next one with our same ticket. We crossed the with the help of reminders
written on every intersection telling us which way to look. I hadn’t really
thought about the fact that opposite traffic changes where pedestrians need to
look. Although we laughed at the signs, they came in handy.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgvOLc3D_5ql-miOZuco21WDE0slhMQTu18Ua4eKasOwI2N3fIbMT-pze4SdlUC_geGZw8dK9hACh5nK89BhRENIhGo18kD9nQndyBB4gYBMw20zoTXUKDHZNuGwKZW-cmAjYEaBTUvlzc/s1600/DSC_0836.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgvOLc3D_5ql-miOZuco21WDE0slhMQTu18Ua4eKasOwI2N3fIbMT-pze4SdlUC_geGZw8dK9hACh5nK89BhRENIhGo18kD9nQndyBB4gYBMw20zoTXUKDHZNuGwKZW-cmAjYEaBTUvlzc/s320/DSC_0836.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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My dad got his coffee — Starbucks of course — and we split a
cookie before getting back on the bus. It was a quick, but much-needed pit
stop.</div>
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We got back on the bus and continued to explore London. Because we saw each place so quickly as we passed, most of what we saw blurred together for me to create one glorious image of London.I wasn't too concerned about separating them in my mind because we were going to be returning to a lot of the key places the following day. <span style="text-indent: 0in;"></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in; text-align: left; text-indent: 0in;">
But we saw just about everything from on top of that bus. Hyde Park, Green Park, Regents Park. Piccadilly Circus, Madame Tussaud's, Victoria and Albert Museum. The BBC, Royal Courts of Justice, the Bank of England. St. Paul's Cathedral, the London Eye, Parliament. Everything.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik0A_R-NKixPHrbFsYzE0GMZ5mmC1ZWxqIykJacUDbePLKZIn6QmHQIJ7GOFLhpEuYpbIJH1M68h8Cz7UWEy8ALvUgtlflS9fG7-rJS4Aetsn00AogB09igc4EnsYHwu0g7Fq4oLutDcx_/s1600/DSC_0896.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik0A_R-NKixPHrbFsYzE0GMZ5mmC1ZWxqIykJacUDbePLKZIn6QmHQIJ7GOFLhpEuYpbIJH1M68h8Cz7UWEy8ALvUgtlflS9fG7-rJS4Aetsn00AogB09igc4EnsYHwu0g7Fq4oLutDcx_/s400/DSC_0896.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Royal Courts of Justice</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2bumCAe4HJHTCmImdRqD5C3kAjJhLad9iU0w8ICHR6jAjY1q4QZimdwRfi5cXVd_G_bn1f57uNlmOKcxuvyZL2LTl2heCo9Cbs7qx18NWEKn89dhNb9k3f5R7zY-v5Nd0vWk78nDcgSiN/s1600/DSC_0915.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2bumCAe4HJHTCmImdRqD5C3kAjJhLad9iU0w8ICHR6jAjY1q4QZimdwRfi5cXVd_G_bn1f57uNlmOKcxuvyZL2LTl2heCo9Cbs7qx18NWEKn89dhNb9k3f5R7zY-v5Nd0vWk78nDcgSiN/s400/DSC_0915.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">St. Paul's Cathedral</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4MLPBdjAjX8gVArr7FuEKbsUGndHRcZjecbhqBxJSjAV4-VdQf1epTkXeVZk-RSDNRIzRD-5Ixmw7XjLEN8g9rBnjxebTlxeNfbylAw00OtP4EMwWtzJL7GDU2wCxmgGqbgHftDjLeCP6/s1600/DSC_0935.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4MLPBdjAjX8gVArr7FuEKbsUGndHRcZjecbhqBxJSjAV4-VdQf1epTkXeVZk-RSDNRIzRD-5Ixmw7XjLEN8g9rBnjxebTlxeNfbylAw00OtP4EMwWtzJL7GDU2wCxmgGqbgHftDjLeCP6/s400/DSC_0935.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bank of England</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqrzqTkUov-53tmhdTQU05SzQM3JvDZUi6adqyyVXrt1NxN7xzq09M1uVTq36xsg-YO18YM3kEp2xduW3XeGYwhrEDOovCKiA4nWiP3uIu4jqjzEb_6HicYhD67X5UkQ-LTnNE282dQlm2/s1600/DSC_0936.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqrzqTkUov-53tmhdTQU05SzQM3JvDZUi6adqyyVXrt1NxN7xzq09M1uVTq36xsg-YO18YM3kEp2xduW3XeGYwhrEDOovCKiA4nWiP3uIu4jqjzEb_6HicYhD67X5UkQ-LTnNE282dQlm2/s400/DSC_0936.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Royal Exchange</td></tr>
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We crossed Tower Bridge and got off the bus at Tower of London around 3 p.m. As luck will have it, my mom also had a few pictures here. When my dad asked me what to do here Thursday night, I said if I made an itinerary it would be roughly based on my mom's pictures. We didn't really focus on that too much Friday, but it worked out pretty well anyway!</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
We bought some souvenirs and Ben & Jerry's ice cream and walked around outside the Tower of London. I wanted to go inside, but we needed to be heading back by 4:30 p.m. to make our dinner reservation. We decided we'd come back the next day to go inside. If there's on thing I love it's castles. Castles and climbing.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGfOLJl57hsQ9WBPpCBP07370Ieyp1sgaZHRWB9BdS_ndPNKMMLvg60qiQud-VPg04vgvX7xY1mRGQAnpiwORFOSvQbWNNlCuxtq2uawXxgqDXtK9dOyVuMRoo4mbzPyF3BWJox5j2ThL0/s1600/DSC_0975.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGfOLJl57hsQ9WBPpCBP07370Ieyp1sgaZHRWB9BdS_ndPNKMMLvg60qiQud-VPg04vgvX7xY1mRGQAnpiwORFOSvQbWNNlCuxtq2uawXxgqDXtK9dOyVuMRoo4mbzPyF3BWJox5j2ThL0/s640/DSC_0975.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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We took the tube to Jay's neighborhood and walked back. We freshened up and fancied up for the evening. We went out with Jay for a nice dinner. I got fried courgettes and that's all, if I recall correctly. I do remember they were absolutely delicious. We got blood orange meringue for dessert. It was very different, but still good. I love blood oranges.</div>
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After dinner, Jay escorted us to the theater where we were to go see "The King's Speech." I was so excited to see a play. I haven't in ages. I never saw the movie in its entirety. I sadly fell asleep after the first half (I'll chalk it up to a long day). I enjoyed the play. The set was simple and clean, but very effective and the lead actor was great.</div>
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Unfortunately, it looks like the play will <a href="http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/entertainment-arts-17783302" target="_blank">close early</a> due to poor ticket sales. Sad.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6a-rtoHHjiaHESbQO003hwVbsn2oPJOAzfuPqr665-WUx-nedjVJNtpan87miyi4zKkwAcEdsN9EJtjNwcqflMkq1AC1vhmtYiVD0EDRj2vxLg2DX4t-YXPiYL-an_31HvHwfY6sMiGoC/s1600/DSC_0013.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6a-rtoHHjiaHESbQO003hwVbsn2oPJOAzfuPqr665-WUx-nedjVJNtpan87miyi4zKkwAcEdsN9EJtjNwcqflMkq1AC1vhmtYiVD0EDRj2vxLg2DX4t-YXPiYL-an_31HvHwfY6sMiGoC/s320/DSC_0013.JPG" width="320" /></a>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix-edt_BphCNhk9nxkJVdgnRbwHjfCDkCvftYxJCi_q5cyUid3fNzjRKkiHaVk5Y5WXs8xBLGX797Eiif06jG5vAhET_Tfct_PlLDIXb_q7AnK13l-G6hZVMptaATofbZMCz_XnjMnPBAh/s1600/DSC_0014.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix-edt_BphCNhk9nxkJVdgnRbwHjfCDkCvftYxJCi_q5cyUid3fNzjRKkiHaVk5Y5WXs8xBLGX797Eiif06jG5vAhET_Tfct_PlLDIXb_q7AnK13l-G6hZVMptaATofbZMCz_XnjMnPBAh/s320/DSC_0014.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
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<div>
All in all, it was an excellent first day. Not only as it wonderful to see my parents again, but I was so excited for them to get to see London and for my dad to be in Europe for the first time!</div>
<div>
It was also a great change of pace to hear English again. My good friend Nick studied here last spring. He kept telling me I'd need a breath of fresh air and some English by around month three. "Save London for the last month or so. You'll need it." </div>
<div>
I insisted that wouldn't happen to me. He was right, I was wrong. I was overjoyed. Not only was I getting to speak English again, but I got to hear it constantly with an accent. What's not to love? I'll give you this one, Nick.</div>
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When the play was over, we walked around for a little bit, but mumsie's feet hurt, and we were pretty exhausted. We headed home and relaxed before going to sleep.</div>
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I swear I fall in love with every city I visit.</div>
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</div>Lydiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16657401452953073654noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5304175036627826090.post-72905453993405001352012-04-20T10:45:00.002-04:002013-03-16T10:22:03.721-04:00Diversity Diary #9<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpFirst" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: 0in;">
Greece was really the first time I got to talk to talk to
Europeans other than Italians. Although I had been to Switzerland, we didn’t
really get a chance to meet anyone besides other American students traveling
and staying at the hostel. Most everyone else was shut inside for the coldest
weekend of the year.</div>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: 0in;">
I mentioned that we made friends with a Brit, James, for a
couple of days in Athens. He made his opinion of Italians clear. “Ohhhh Italy.
Italian men.” Then he proceeded to mock the stereotypical over-sexed,
passionate Italian man. “Kissy kissy ohh mwah mwah mwah.”</div>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: 0in;">
It made me laugh, but it got me thinking about stereotypes.
Americans certainly have plenty of assumptions about European countries, but I
hadn’t really thought about the stereotypes formed within Europe of their
neighboring countries.</div>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: 0in;">
In contrast to the wildly inappropriate Italian men, James
also said people perceive Englishmen as cold and unfeeling. He didn’t see why
not being as showy as Italians made him cold. It was an interesting
conversation.</div>
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<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: 0in;">
A few days later we ran into an Armenian man in Santorini. Now
I’ve already heard Italians’ general presumption about Armenians. “Stay away
from the Armenians.” People have said the inappropriate behavior and
disrespectful cat calls of “Ciao bella!” come from Armenians, not Italians as
American students often mistake. As a whole, they’re not a favorable crowd to
Italians. </div>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: 0in;">
Well this man didn’t have too many kind words to speak of
Italians either. When we told him we study in Italy, his immediate question was
“what do you think of Italians?” We didn’t really give him an answer before he
was telling us his own opinion. “They’re not helpful at all. In my culture, in
my country, if your fellow man needs help, you help him. They don’t ever help
me when I’m there. Not for directions. Nothing. They don’t like to help
people.” My best guess is this may be true, but the stereotype Italians have of
Armenians is probably largely to blame. Who knows though?</div>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1CxSpLast" style="margin-left: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12pt;">I just thought it was
really interesting to hear from both sides of this. I felt like I was listening
to both sides of a stupid argument between bickering children. </span>
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</div>Lydiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16657401452953073654noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5304175036627826090.post-85722175871520336252012-04-19T13:29:00.001-04:002013-03-16T10:22:03.738-04:00Siamo Andati al Liceo<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<i>Siamo andati al liceo — </i>we went to the high school<br />
<br />
Thursday (March 29) Nicoletta took us to an Italian high school so we could practice our speaking skills. We would talk to students in Italian for a little bit and then switch to English so they could practice the language.<br />
We met at the school at 10 a.m. before walking to a bus stop past Piazza della Repubblica. After about half an hour on a bus, we got off to walk the remainder of the way. The area had a very different feel, and it was great to see another part of the city.<br />
There were much more modern buildings with shops lining the streets and apartments stacked on top. The roads were wide and paved as opposed to the narrow cobblestone alleyways in the city center. We walked along the sidewalk out of the busier area and toward greenery. We made our way down a small drive surrounded by tall grass.<br />
When we reached the high school, a teacher met us in the parking lot. As her and Nicoletta talked over their plan for the class, we looked up at the school. It was a plain off-white building with two stories. Italian 17- and 18-year-old boys dangled out of all the open windows, even those that were barred, trying to catch a glimpse of the visitors. Nicoletta had warned us to cover up for these rascals, but it was such a beautiful day none of us really listened. Of the 10 of us, there were only two boys. Most if not all of the girls were in dresses and only half were wearing tights. We got what we asked for — drooling Italian teenage boys. They yelled to us and waved indistinguishable paper signs in our direction.<br />
Nicoletta and the other teacher ushered us inside. As we stood in the hallway, I started to get nervous. I hadn't done anything to prepare for this. Some of my classmates had written some questions down and taken notes. Caitlin and I hadn't done a thing, and we were going to be partners. We stood waiting, and Nicoletta took us two by two into the classroom and sat us with groups of 4-5 Italian students. Caitlin and I were up next. I stood in the doorway scanning the room. It was absolute chaos. People were shuffling around trying to form groups. The scrape of moving chairs and tables barely broke through the loud babel of Italian. Students from other classes were literally trying to climb through the windows into the room. This oughta be fun, I thought to myself.<br />
Caitlin and I got lucky. We were paired with the only three girls in the class and a very nice guy. We started with introductions — names, ages, families. They were all 17 or 18.<br />
We asked them what music they listen to. Marco said he liked Eminem and Linkin Park. We all seemed to agree on our dislike of Justin Bieber. We asked them about their school. It was an agricultural school, which Nicoletta later explained is an alternative high school. They learn all of the basic subjects, but focus on farming skills. We asked them how long they had been studying English. They said since they were 8 or 9. I gulped. They're going to make us look like fools once we switch to English.<br />
The conversation started to drag. We asked them about what kind of pets they had, and we told them the same. Caitlin wanted to say she missed her pets back home. She turned to me and asked how to say "I miss." I incorrectly told her "manche." She kept saying "mi manche," but it didn't seem to be getting across. Marco just stared at us puzzled. He curled on arm under to scratch his armpit and lifted the other to scratch his head. "Monkey?!? Monkey??"<br />
"No! No! Mi manche!"<br />
Everyone was laughing. We called Nicoletta over for help. I was off my a letter. Mi mancha il mio carne. I miss my dog.<br />
We cleared it up with Marco, but the idea of Caitlin having a pet monkey didn't pass quickly. The girls couldn't stop laughing. They leaned over to the next table and got them laughing about it too.<br />
Soon enough it was time to switch to English. Even though we'll feel like idiots for knowing so little, at least this part will be less awkward, right? Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.<br />
Their English was very rough. Most Italians who say "My English is terrible," speak it practically fluently. Not the case here. And what made it worse was we had already exhausted all of the simple topics. I'm sure they knew how to ask our names, ages, hobbies and such, but we already covered those topics with our limited Italian. For the most part, they just gave up or were too shy to try.<br />
Claudia put in a lot of effort though. She sat across from me and we talked for a good while. She said she doesn't want to become a farmer but rather a park ranger. She'd like to go to more school after she graduates — provided she can afford it — and eventually move to France. She said she likes Italy, but she doesn't like Italians or Italian law. I'm not sure if something was lost in translation there, but it was really the only thing I got out of it. I wish there wasn't the language barrier so I could have asked her to explain more.<br />
After class was over, the students took us outside to their greenhouses and gardens. We talked to the others as we walked out, and it seemed like Caitlin and I got really lucky. Jess and Kate said their group just kept asking how much they drink and if they smoke. Another group didn't talk at all.<br />
As the rest of the high schoolers just started to goof around and yell obnoxiously, Claudia walked with Caitlin and I. She told us about what they do every day. I asked questions in Italian and she answered in English. It was a good way for us to both practice. She was so nice!<br />
Eventually they had to go back to another class, and it was time for us to head back.<br />
Being such a nice day, we agreed to walk back instead of taking the bus. Nicoletta led us through Cascine Park (an area I had tried unsuccessfully to find <a href="http://lydiaislost.blogspot.com/2012/01/parks-art-and-cooking.html" target="_blank">earlier in the semester</a>). I wish I had brought my camera. I almost did, but ended up leaving it behind.<br />
The park was beautiful. I definitely have to get there again sometime before I leave. The grass was a rich green color. Full trees shaded many of the long paths. We walked along one in the sun that hugged the Arno. People ran along the paths to our left while others reclined in the sun along the banks of the river to the right. It was absolutely beautiful, and the weather was perfect!<br />
The park seemed to go on forever, but we eventually reached the edge. By that time we were all hot and tired, so we agreed to take the bus the rest of the way back.<br />
It dropped us off near Bethany's place around 1 p.m. <br />
Glenn, Kevin, Bethany, Michelle, Yelena and I set out to grab lunch. We wanted to go to Tijuana's (a mexican restaurant) for lunch, but it was closed. Instead I led the group to the Oil Shoppe, a fantastic sandwich shop on our end of town. After a delicious veggie panino, I said ciao and headed back to the apartment.<br />
I watched some Netflix and finished packing for London! With my backpack nearly bursting at the seams, I walked down the stairs and over to Basilica di Santa Croce to catch a taxi to the airport. The law is that a taxi ride within the city can't cost more than €25. It always costs that much to get to the airport or more if your driver is a bastard who shortchanges you significantly.<br />
I had much better luck with this driver. As soon as I got in, he said it'll be €20 at the end. From what I understood it should always be that much to get from the city center to the airport. He was kind an not at all greedy. One point driver. Then much to my surprise he used his blinkers. Point two! And when we neared the airport where there's a short stretch of road with four lanes, he stayed in his instead of weaving back and forth as if for fun. He even checked blindspots. Point three, point four. <br />
I got out at the airport in complete shock. If I had change, I probably would have even tipped him.<br />
After a good half-hour wait in line, I checked in. I chatted at the terminal with a couple of businessmen from London who had been in Florence just for the day for a quick meeting. Soon enough, I was on my way to London to meet the 'rents!</div>Lydiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16657401452953073654noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5304175036627826090.post-72261437654486378212012-04-19T13:29:00.000-04:002013-03-16T10:22:03.718-04:00One more day in paradise<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Friday (March 23) was our last day in Santorini. I'd call it bittersweet, but I can't think of a reason anyone would ever leave this place.</div>
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I woke up early to see the sunrise with Bethany after failing to do so every other morning of the week. We sat on the ledge of our balcony huddled in blankets and watched the day begin in silence. It was so peaceful.</div>
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Once the sun was well above the clouds and I was sufficiently cold, I hopped down from the wall and slipped inside. Bethany crawled back into bed, but I had plans. Or rather, I had a mission: find the red beach. We had <a href="http://lydiaislost.blogspot.it/2012/04/tuesday-in-santorini.html" target="_blank">failed miserably</a> at this task earlier in the week, and I just couldn't leave without getting to see it! Erika planned to meet me a little after 7 a.m. so we could explore. My preparations for the day woke up Amy about 5 minutes before I was supposed to leave. She stirred awake and asked how much time she'd have if she wanted to join. She threw her stuff together and followed me out to the ATVs.<br />
Just as we were walking out, Erika came around the bend with Kelsey on the back of her four-wheeler. So two became four and we set out to find the beach.<br />
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It was a chilly morning to begin with, so once we started
zipping along the island I was practically shivering. </div>
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As a navigator who left the map in the hotel, I was left with
gut instincts to get us to the southern end of the island. I think we took a
couple of extra roads and detours, but I got us there relatively promptly.</div>
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Once we reached the area of Akrotiri, I followed signs to the
Red Beach. I was a little nervous since that was exactly how we tried to find
it last time, but I had since found out the place where we gave up our hunt
last time was right around the corner from the beach. We weaved back and forth
along a narrow road and this time took the right path at the fork. We were in
the right spot in less than two minutes. I couldn’t believe we were so close
yet so far last time.</div>
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We parked our ATVs and began to climb a narrow path at the end
of the parking lot. Just around the bend the red beach beamed at us. Although
I’ve never opened a treasure chest of gold, I imagine the feeling would be
equally as victorious and satisfying as seeing this:</div>
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I led us down a gravel path, sliding more than actually
walking. Kelsey was only wearing flip flops, so about halfway down she decided
to turn around. Amy, Erika and I kept going. We climbed up again, this time
over large boulders, and back down again. We were finally standing on the red beach!</div>
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I looked back and yelled to Kelsey, point out a different path she could take. Erika, Amy and I sat down and threw rocks into the sea as we chatted about our trip.<br />
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After a while, we realized Kelsey wasn't coming to meet us. We walked farther along the beach. A tall cliff towered above us to the left. There were several out-of-place doors along the base. They made me anxious for some reason.</div>
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Amy ran over to peek inside the tiny dwellings. She backed up and gasped.</div>
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"Oh God. What's in there?!?"</div>
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She paused before uttering in complete shock, "a <i>kitchen!</i>" I looked in the next one and the one after that, and sure enough they looked like fairly modern quarters that had been abandoned for a few months. Most had construction equipment inside.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo by <a href="http://amyitaly.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Amy</a></td></tr>
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Erika and I sat on the beach as Amy ran farther down and climbed around on some rocks and a little building. Just the usual.<br />
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We didn't have a whole lot of time there. The idea was more to just see it than actually spend a day there. We had bigger plans for the rest of the afternoon. We summoned Amy and headed back to the ATVs, where Kelsey was waiting patiently. With the sun much higher in the sky, the beach was showing its true colors. The red was glorious.</div>
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We rode back to Fira to Erika, Yelena and Kelsey's place. They had to pack up, so Amy and I walked up the street to get a crepe. I don't know why I haven't been eating them all semester. We split a nutella strawberry one. Yum Yum Yum!<br />
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We waited by the ATV place until the other four girls arrived. We couldn't return them without all of us there. I started to get anxious as it neared 10:30 a.m. We had to be down by the Old Port by 11 a.m. to catch our boat. We saw Erika, Kelsey and Yelena across the street getting breakfast. Amy talked to them while I paced back and forth waiting for Caitlin, Bethany, Jess and Kate. They showed up eventually. It turned out Squirt ran out of gas and they had to push our little yellow ATV to a gas station.</div>
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We ran/walked all the way down the donkey path to the Old Port, where an old wooden boat was waiting for us. We clambered on, claimed our seats and turned around to see where we were headed: the volcano!</div>
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The ride was short, but beautiful. We looked back to see the Caldera from afar. We could see the donkey path zigzag down the steep incline. It looks even more intense from this viewpoint..<br />
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Soon the water beneath us turned from a blue to a startling green. We
pulled up and docked next two other boats. The crew led us over and though the
other two ships and onto land. We had an hour and a half to explore, so up we
went!</div>
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A couple of benches and two straw umbrellas sat at the first fork in the
path. People seemed pretty evenly split on which way they took. We settled on
left.</div>
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The black lava rock crunched beneath my sandals. Red and green lined the
sides of the narrow paths. I never expected a volcano to be bursting with this
much color.</div>
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T<span style="text-indent: 0in;">he higher we got, the more we started to see of the sea. It only added to
the vividness. Every time I thought to myself, “It doesn’t get better than
this,” it did. Just a few more minutes. It always did.</span></div>
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Kate, Bethany and Caitlin disappeared ahead of us around one of the very
first twists in the path. This didn’t surprise me with Kate the explorer
leading the pack. Jess, Amy and I took our time and reached the top in about 40
minutes.</div>
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Of course I made someone take the usual picture:</div>
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There were all kinds of rocks people had stacked on top of one another. It reminded me of Ruby Beach, Wash., where I went with my family a couple of summers ago.</div>
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<span style="text-indent: 0in;">We wandered around the edge of the crater. It's hard to believe the power the earth holds right beneath my feet. </span><br />
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From the far side of the crater we could see the hot springs tucked between where we were and a smaller island of volcanic rock. We were headed to that teal strip of water next!</div>
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A little further around the edge I saw a round, squat cement cylinder post. I had seen this a couple of other places but didn't know what it was. When we were out by the lighthouse Wednesday there was one on top of one of the tall cliffs. I didn't have the guts to climb on top of it there, or really I was smart enough not to, but I couldn't resist sitting on this one.</div>
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It was windy, but beautiful. Jess passed my camera to me so I could take a picture of my view. I rotated around to get a full 360, but this is one of my favorites. You can see the crater, the colors, the lava rock, the sea and Fira along the edge of Santorini in the distance.<br />
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We finished our loop around the crater and took a few more pictures before walking back down.<br />
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I hadn't really paid attention to how dusty the walk was, but I started to feel how grimy I was as I watched small clouds puff up under Jessica's feet in front of me.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9CrBROm01iraN0fgklHLEdT8ArMcIrsG_ye5FOEcZVpfXOh9r_dJr6bBGsGhJqeWo1ApdFQdjlJ5E9RmfTdaKeOUItx3TVEAFfyKciIwhd1gjtAbIlg3XbR-t0lYVrN7joT9ngtU7FdpK/s1600/DSC_0410.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9CrBROm01iraN0fgklHLEdT8ArMcIrsG_ye5FOEcZVpfXOh9r_dJr6bBGsGhJqeWo1ApdFQdjlJ5E9RmfTdaKeOUItx3TVEAFfyKciIwhd1gjtAbIlg3XbR-t0lYVrN7joT9ngtU7FdpK/s320/DSC_0410.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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We got back to the boat almost exactly on time, followed closely by the last people left on the volcano. We pulled out and rounded the island to the hot springs!<br />
Caitlin wanted nothing more than to swim in them. The woman who sold us the tickets the day before warned us that we'd have to swim through cold water to get to them. Now it was nice out, but certainly not swimming weather. We all knew we were pretending it was warmer than it actually was, but no one spoke this truth.<br />
Caitlin and I were committed to the swim. "If not now, when?" Besides, it was only about 20 meters in cold water to get to the springs. Jess and Bethany seemed ready, but nervous for the cold. Amy didn't have a swimsuit and was therefore the designated guard of our belongings. Kate was terrified she'd just jump in, freeze/panic and sink to the bottom. We did our best to get her excited.<br />
An older couple sitting across from us was going to do it. If they can do it, we certainly can! The boat anchored about 20 meters from the entrance to the hot springs as promised. The man of the aforementioned couple started to get ready, disrobing to his swimming trunks. His wife apparently hadn't known about the 20-meter swim and started to get cold feet. He talked her into it as we continued to do the same for Kate.<br />
A couple of other tourists had already jumped in, but about 75 percent of the boat sat in their warm clothes without any sign of moving.<br />
Well, this is it, I thought. "Guys. Now. Let's do it."<br />
I took off my shirt, took several determined steps toward the edge and jumped right in without another thought. I approached it with the same attitude as I did when <a href="http://lydiaislost.blogspot.it/search/label/canyon%20jump" target="_blank">hurling myself into a canyon</a> in Switzerland. If I did that in below zero temperatures, I certainly shouldn't have any issues with the Aegean Sea.<br />
<b>Ha.</b><br />
I had just thrown myself into an icebox. This is not Greece. I am in Antartica. I am a penguin.<br />
My entire body went tense. Crap. Kate's not going to be the one to panic and sink like a pathetic rock. I am! Focus Lydia. Focus. Move your arms. Swim. Your legs too.<br />
I started to paddle with a stroke that can only be described as a cross between a dog and a frog.<br />
Out of nowhere, Kate came up next to me. She propelled herself past me with flawless form. I hadn't even heard her jump in behind me. She looked like she had been swimming all her life.<br />
Excuse me, but <i>what? </i><br />
I pulled it together and started to swim. As I scooped water behind me, I could feel small hard things brushing against my arms, hands and shoulders. We still don't know what it was, and I think I'd prefer to keep it that way. Jess swears something bit her. I swallowed more water than I pushed behind me, but eventually I made it to the springs. I was kicking when I thrust my foot hard against a rock on the bottom. I tried to stand and walk the rest of the way, but the air started to feel colder than the water and the rocks were slippery.<br />
I practically crawled the rest of the way through the water to meet Kate.<br />
"Kate! What the hell was that?"<br />
"I don't know! I panicked, and I didn't want to look dumb to all the tourists on the boat so I got to warmth as fast as I could."<br />
I just shook my head and laughed.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">Photo by <a href="http://amyitaly.blogspot.it/" target="_blank">Amy</a>. She said tourists were laughing at us and taking pictures as we froze. I'm sure they thought we were idiots. I don't blame them. I'm in the front and Kate's jumping in behind me.</td></tr>
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<br />
Jess, Caitlin and Bethany trickled in behind us, shivering. We moved farther into the "hot springs." I wasn't a huge fan of them. The bottom was about 6 inches of mushy goop. There were weird mud clumps and clear jelly-like floaties circling us. I twisted my arms around me wildly the whole time to keep them away from me. I don't like not knowing what's all over me.<br />
It was significantly warmer than the sea. I'll give the springs that much, but it's not a lot. It was more like patches of luke warm water. I'm sure it would be better in the summer.<br />
We didn't have a whole lot of time, so after about 10 minutes we headed back. Even though I was going from warm to cold, I was more prepared for the swim this time. It didn't feel like it took quite as long. We climbed up and huddled in towels.<br />
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I warmed up surprisingly fast and ended up giving my towel to Jess and Kate, who were shivering wildly.<br />
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<div class="MsoNoteLevel1">
…. Our boat dropped
us back off at the Old Port. We were immediately swarmed by people offering
donkey rides back up to Fira. We declined. No one wanted to do it again, and I
certainly wasn’t getting on a donkey again after the previous day’s allergy
nightmare.</div>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1">
We all decided we'd rather just take the cable car up. It was only €4. Kate was going to walk, but I just bought her ticket. There was no point in any of us hiking up that disgusting path. We had about half an hour before the next one went up the lift, so we just sat in the sun drying out and wiping salt from our eyelids and elbows. Yes, in the short swim salt had collected in the creases of our eyelids and all other places. The entire half hour we waited there, one very persistant donkey man continued to pester us.</div>
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"Donkey? Donkey? Donkey? Up! Donkey! Donkey!"</div>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1">
"No grazie"</div>
<div class="MsoNoteLevel1">
"Ohh... donkey?......... donkey?"</div>
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He reminded me of the seagulls in Finding Nemo. "Mine? Mine?"</div>
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He didn't give up until we were walking into the cable car ticket office. I applaud your persistance.</div>
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The view on the way up was really pretty — although I doubt you could find a bad view if you tried in Santorini. Even what's blocking what you want to see is probably worth looking at.</div>
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At the top we wandered through shops buying our final souvenirs. I still can't believe how many I bought here. We made our way back to the center of town. We all got gyros for a late lunch. I'm getting hungry for one now just typing it. It was absolutely delicious. Bethany and I walked up the street in search of gelato, but returned with frozen Greek yogurt instead. I certainly wasn't upset about it.</div>
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I got one with walnuts and chocolate syrup. It was delicious!</div>
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We went across the street to an internet cafe so we could check in online and print off boarding passes for our flight the next day. It took several trips downstairs to buy more internet time, and a lot of frustration, but after about 45 minutes we were successful. </div>
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We split up a little bit to walk around and shop more. Jess and Kate went off on their own, and the rest of us hung out together.<br />
While Caitlin, Bethany and Amy were still in a shop, I wandered out and along the edge of the city. I looked out over the water at the volcano we climbed earlier. Behind it to the left I could see the tip of the island where Kate, Jess and I had climbed down the rocks and cliffs. To the right (a little out of the picture) was Oia where we had seen the sunset the night before.<br />
<br />
I absolutely love this island.</div>
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I found Amy, Caitlin and Bethany and we kept shopping. I had two more things I really wanted to get: </div>
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1. Something with my name written in Greek</div>
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2. Necklace with lava stones and the blue and white charm used to ward off evil.</div>
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I never did get my name in Greek, and I almost thought I wouldn't get the necklace either. Just before we went back to meet with Jess and Kate, or as they should be called Jate, I found a jewelry shop. I asked the shopkeeper if she had anything with the charm I was looking for. She started showing me €100+ necklaces.<br />
"I'm looking in the less than €20 range," I told her.<br />
"Ahhh. OK."<br />
She showed me a glass case of simple pendants — just what I was looking for. I found one I liked for €8. I was hoping she'd give me some sort of chain with it, but she did one better. She handed me a small box of beads and told me to make my own pattern.<br />
Bethany helped me find some lava beads and set out my perfect necklace! She made it for me really fast. Total: €15. Perfection.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
We found Jate and headed home. On the walk, we realized we had never tried baklava! This was unacceptable, so when we got back I went and asked Poppy if we could order it for delivery. It wasn't a problem. She helped me call, and I threw in some stuffed vine leaves just for the fun of it. Bethany and I had been eyeing them earlier in the week and said we'd try them at some point. </div>
<div>
In about ten minutes, a man knocked on our door with our food. Surprisingly fast, especially in Greece.</div>
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<div>
The vine leaves were so good. Caitlin said the restaurant where she works makes some pretty good ones and she'll have to take me there. I'm going to hold her to that.</div>
<div>
The Baklava was huge. and very very sweet.</div>
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We relaxed and packed for the rest of the night. At some point in the evening, I stepped outside for a little bit to walk around and take pictures. I sat out by the pool for a while in complete bliss.</div>
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I absolutely love Greece.<br />
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<br />
<b>Saturday</b> we had an 8:25 a.m. flight. The same guy who drove us from the airport would give us a ride back to it. He assured us that leaving by 7:30 a.m. would be plenty of time, but I was pretty anxious. We all were. We ended up outside with our bags ready around 7:15 a.m. He came out soon after. "Now? OK!" He lifted our bags into the back as we piled into the van.<br />
After a short ride to the airport, we thanked him and said our goodbyes.<br />
Our flight to Athens seemed to be the only one leaving from the tiny airport. We waited in line for a while to check in. I felt like things were moving oddly slow. Caitlin, Amy, Bethany and Kate checked in before Jess and I. They went over to scan their bags and then headed to security. Jess and I dragged ours over to the belt for checked bags and waited for someone to scan our bags. And waited. And waited. A line began to form behind us. Soon a security man came running from the other end of the airport, which was really probably as long as our swim to the hotsprings. He silently began the machine and our bags disappeared under black rubber flaps. We shrugged and headed over to security to get into the terminal, where we waited again. Then it dawned on me. This airport has one security officer. One.<br />
"Jess. How much do you want to bet that guy who checked our bags runs over here in 5 minutes to do gate security?"<br />
He did. Now <i>that</i> is the definition of a small airport. We waited for a few minutes at what seemed to be the only terminal (I believe there were two), before lining up to go outside onto a bus. We shuffled forward and look who was there taking our tickets! The same woman who checked us in around front.<br />
Two employees to run the airport. Plus two to stand around in the snack stand. I could hardly contain my laughter.<br />
<br />
The flight was quick and uneventful, other than the sighting of this island that looks like a goat:<br />
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Less than half an hour later, we were landing in Athens.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUrzZA6-n3-S9n_FVZhNJ9rYTvjCQ82jxz1fLgFo14x3agxtpAZidxUg2zQI5l0Ime84vP_2B32Mc5BYzlsZfSWBa2UPrYvHKcmhhSJpBFBO4PJB2rbXm5-euIzZIJ1aWcjSLdcLhBK01Y/s1600/IMG_5712.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUrzZA6-n3-S9n_FVZhNJ9rYTvjCQ82jxz1fLgFo14x3agxtpAZidxUg2zQI5l0Ime84vP_2B32Mc5BYzlsZfSWBa2UPrYvHKcmhhSJpBFBO4PJB2rbXm5-euIzZIJ1aWcjSLdcLhBK01Y/s400/IMG_5712.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Airplane-window photography. Athens.</td></tr>
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We had to pick up our bags here. Since we didn't book our flights together, we couldn't check our luggage all the way through to our final destination. So we grabbed our bags and headed upstairs to check in again. Our next flight wasn't for another five hours. Kate and Caitlin's layover was worse: nine hours. It was a little too early to check in, so we headed outside to wait.</div>
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We spent the next hour or two playing Charades, Simon Says and a little bit of Karaoke. Jate showed us the secret handshake they had apparently spent the week perfecting. Everyone walking past either laughed at or with us. It was fantastic. </div>
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After a while we headed inside and checked our bags. Kate and Caitlin still had to hang on to theirs. We looked at the shops in the airport mall for a while, and I ended up buying a slice of Dominos Pizza. I am ashamed. I didn't want to be buying American fast food while I was here, but it was honestly the cheapest thing I could find. What can I say? It happens to the best of us.</div>
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As does illness, apparently. Friday night I started feeling a little bit of a tickle in my throat after jumping into the sea. It was sore in the morning, but the copious amount of water and a smoothie I had downed wasn't doing anything. I bought a couple boxes of halls and popped them for the rest of the day.</div>
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It was getting close to our boarding time, so Amy, Jess, Bethany and I headed to our gate. Bethany felt so guilty leaving Caitlin and Kate there. They were flying into Rome and taking the train to Florence Sunday morning. I'm not sure why she was so torn up about leaving them for less than 24 hours. I suppose we had spent all day every day together for the past week.</div>
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We said our goodbyes, went through security and boarded our Swiss Air flight to Zurich. I want to fly with them again just so I can get more complementary Swiss chocolate. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTvb5hZCN2QuDu-lco1rvSFKX44T2e7rOE_MuUdlJFyZW2JOiIGpbBI4PSElGWvWcuLz2arv4xaDXBa1sHO55lDab-Alg-U2PjMq7kQl6I5Ff-BOf5wfhnA9wqP5y8e0vaj7kEDJQbTJew/s1600/IMG_5715.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTvb5hZCN2QuDu-lco1rvSFKX44T2e7rOE_MuUdlJFyZW2JOiIGpbBI4PSElGWvWcuLz2arv4xaDXBa1sHO55lDab-Alg-U2PjMq7kQl6I5Ff-BOf5wfhnA9wqP5y8e0vaj7kEDJQbTJew/s320/IMG_5715.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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We had a layover in Zurich, and the final leg of the flight was also Swiss air. Two free chocolate bars!</div>
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While in Greece, I had decided I wanted to get a flag from each country I visited. Not a little souvenir flag, but a giant one I could hang on my wall at home. In total I would be seeing four countries this semester: Italy, Switzerland, Greece and the UK.</div>
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I was pretty disappointed that I had decided this after I went to Switzerland, so when I realized that's where our layover was, I made it my mission to find a flag. I figured I wouldn't be able to, but Amy helped me find one!</div>
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Even though it was sad to leave Greece, I'd say charades, free chocolate, a Swiss flag and this view from the plane add up to an all around good day. </div>
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Plus it was nice to get home.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqjDSOTGhSjrAAPAmXV9bAl0TbIZHvh8tct8KVywuP71vfsxiV3cICjzNXn6Nd0v-YBWEqlT4d1IbSA-EE798RUh5igwJLEveN14rfexHbR1IlcndfZm-djnFhGmjMgO7UBZX0k1uFh8jB/s1600/IMG_5716.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqjDSOTGhSjrAAPAmXV9bAl0TbIZHvh8tct8KVywuP71vfsxiV3cICjzNXn6Nd0v-YBWEqlT4d1IbSA-EE798RUh5igwJLEveN14rfexHbR1IlcndfZm-djnFhGmjMgO7UBZX0k1uFh8jB/s640/IMG_5716.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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But just as I said after Switzerland..... until next time, Greece. I refuse to say goodbye.<br />
This does not count as our next meeting, Switzerland)<br />
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I swear I'll be back to both.</div>
</div>Lydiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16657401452953073654noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5304175036627826090.post-51901256381110573902012-04-16T11:40:00.003-04:002013-03-16T10:22:03.688-04:00Piazza della Signoria 30 Years Later<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I took these photos in January, but I decided instead of flooding my blog with 30 Years Later posts right off the bat, I'd save them for a rainy day.</div>
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It's been raining in Florence for over a week, and I'm still really behind on this blog. So here's something new!</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvB7DQ5DqqsDTxiEKy-9SFFpusEPY34-1qovqmCSDaz3VWk0fa3r-dt7s6K_OKEnj8EYCBeYiqBTyRpvjE5ImFSkTZvoIcHZUmKnMGn1D9pH_hNLQs_4E1UTCBAZXYOgz3GkvAShs2NSXd/s1600/29.+Bandinelli+-+Hercules+and+Caco,+Florence.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><img border="0" height="484" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvB7DQ5DqqsDTxiEKy-9SFFpusEPY34-1qovqmCSDaz3VWk0fa3r-dt7s6K_OKEnj8EYCBeYiqBTyRpvjE5ImFSkTZvoIcHZUmKnMGn1D9pH_hNLQs_4E1UTCBAZXYOgz3GkvAShs2NSXd/s640/29.+Bandinelli+-+Hercules+and+Caco,+Florence.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hercules and Cacus by Bandinelli</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwHJpsZg-LHnl4F57nJRIdT4pQCCyxxPQrnWqAEDrNm1ZRwOAtZQk9ZSoLEOaqlr6gKgK_IS3Ujf9XoGD86TTucL0ewMkUmwH7kdUziNSfXR3vJb4tqtQB2psgS8gOZUSzH6_nL2DCP8Ig/s1600/28.+Cellini+-+The+Perseus,+Florence.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="484" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwHJpsZg-LHnl4F57nJRIdT4pQCCyxxPQrnWqAEDrNm1ZRwOAtZQk9ZSoLEOaqlr6gKgK_IS3Ujf9XoGD86TTucL0ewMkUmwH7kdUziNSfXR3vJb4tqtQB2psgS8gOZUSzH6_nL2DCP8Ig/s640/28.+Cellini+-+The+Perseus,+Florence.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The statue of Perseus by Cellini</td></tr>
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</div>Lydiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16657401452953073654noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5304175036627826090.post-47831198018577379572012-04-11T14:46:00.000-04:002013-03-16T10:22:03.676-04:00Now THIS is Santorini.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I have to admit, my image of Santorini was based pretty solely on The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants. White houses, blue roofs and donkeys.</div>
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Well, Thursday I was in that movie.</div>
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Caitlin joined Erika, Yelena and Kelsey for a morning at the beach. The rest of us headed to Fira. I had asked Poppy at the front desk where we should ride donkeys and where we could get tickets for a boat ride Friday. The answer for both: Blue Star Ferries.</div>
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Since we took a plane there, we didn't really get to see the sea. Most people take a ferry to the islands, but a plane saved us about three hours and didn't cost that much more. However, when locals in Athens and Santorini heard that we weren't going on the ferry, they urged us to at least take a boat ride. </div>
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We parked our ATVs at the rental place, and walked up the hill to Blue Star. They told us where the donkeys were, but unfortunately they didn't have any boat rides available for Friday. Thankfully, a woman down the counter told us to wait a second and called another agency. We were in luck! We could buy tickets down the block for an 11 a.m. boat on Friday.</div>
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I made a mental note of the place, wanting to wait until the other girls were there so we could decide how many tickets we needed. And it was off to see the donkeys!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghLPi8kvZ5QGzRnksdYY3w0ezqm-azF-Mr90k9X2fADpCaC2mZDXg1wlL5iHgpheBj5e-Guq4sghwg-9UVaCRuwKZE0ZcwYIf-lPMW_Itbt_lRr_my8dR6xVdR6IMUH9NzVqQYpXWG7P_5/s1600/DSC_0846.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghLPi8kvZ5QGzRnksdYY3w0ezqm-azF-Mr90k9X2fADpCaC2mZDXg1wlL5iHgpheBj5e-Guq4sghwg-9UVaCRuwKZE0ZcwYIf-lPMW_Itbt_lRr_my8dR6xVdR6IMUH9NzVqQYpXWG7P_5/s640/DSC_0846.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipGoq-yDqIuL8lGlp0wyripymzqyHyLRRmMnv5EEStOWQVtvK41dMILrmSJMB7BCTNXuUjhS78icrNmU9OnSnBKqt4INR0JixTvKq1q-YSCyKpK4EpwB1G1eop4RgFauvRys2Xmfr7wNEl/s1600/DSC_0847.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipGoq-yDqIuL8lGlp0wyripymzqyHyLRRmMnv5EEStOWQVtvK41dMILrmSJMB7BCTNXuUjhS78icrNmU9OnSnBKqt4INR0JixTvKq1q-YSCyKpK4EpwB1G1eop4RgFauvRys2Xmfr7wNEl/s640/DSC_0847.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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We walked through rows of shops trying to find donkeys. We weren't sure if we were in the right place until a short man wearing a blue cap looked at us and simply said, "donkey?"</div>
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"Yes! Donkey! Donkey!"</div>
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"Five down."</div>
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We all started getting our money together, but I remembered Poppy recommending we only go up the hill. She said down is significantly scarier, and the donkeys tend to slip more. I asked if we could just go up, but he didn't understand. He just kept telling us we could go down and up for €15.</div>
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We gave up and handed him money for the ride down. But we still hadn't seen any donkeys.</div>
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We followed him around the corner to see them lined up along the path. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGO7akXEXrCWtyYzqCntSqo0R9rC6v2WysiljmHzaCyONRez6kxNrPw9D96dkFlvKXEfKbSNLdXCWShoy-PyUM61ihDJa5wI6oGd39OQd29wXXSwm5qlYsT6gmkdfZOeHA_JlPCLraCeNQ/s1600/DSC_0855.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGO7akXEXrCWtyYzqCntSqo0R9rC6v2WysiljmHzaCyONRez6kxNrPw9D96dkFlvKXEfKbSNLdXCWShoy-PyUM61ihDJa5wI6oGd39OQd29wXXSwm5qlYsT6gmkdfZOeHA_JlPCLraCeNQ/s640/DSC_0855.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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We walked toward them, and he literally started throwing us on top of donkeys. He'd just point, let us put one foot in, then he'd take care of the rest. Bethany, Kate and Amy disappeared around the first corner as Jessica and I were getting situated. He tied three donkeys together in a row — Jessica, me and a donkey without a rider — and started leading us down the path without a word.</div>
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I don't know what I was expecting out of the ride; I just new it was a must-do if I was in Santorini. I'll say this much: it was an experience. As soon as we rounded the first bend, I started getting nervous. To my left was a short ledge and beyond it? I had no idea. But I knew it would be an unpleasant drop. We traversed back and forth and I shifted from left to right as to not look at or be anywhere near that ledge. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMf2JVVDhbtXPhgjcTsHukoGXGWI-QzCWj5D_39L6taTy59aZCCVPKdr26BjMmNBfkg5vtpOiWI11r0rbGamK8MzfGlP71xzUztDdlfeqRY9TdC9DhPHxY4y_0YbhFdBnm_wVi62FoMUbz/s1600/IMG_5673.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMf2JVVDhbtXPhgjcTsHukoGXGWI-QzCWj5D_39L6taTy59aZCCVPKdr26BjMmNBfkg5vtpOiWI11r0rbGamK8MzfGlP71xzUztDdlfeqRY9TdC9DhPHxY4y_0YbhFdBnm_wVi62FoMUbz/s320/IMG_5673.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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I was jarred forward every time my donkey missed a step or slipped on the path. Every jolt only terrified me more. I could jump off a cliff in Switzerland without a care in the world but a 15-minute donkey ride was horrific. It still makes no sense to me.</div>
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My entire body was tense, and I tried unsuccessfully to think of something other than donkeys. As I bounced down behind Jessica, I started to feel bad for the animals. How sad would it be if your sole purpose in life was to haul humans up and down a steep, winding path purely for their entertainment?</div>
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We eventually reached the bottom, and I started to relax as soon as I hopped off. I saw the donkeys feeding in a small patch of grass, and a few of them were meandering up and down on their own. They didn't seem terribly unhappy. And we made it down safe and sound. All right. That wasn't the worse thing in the world, I thought to myself.</div>
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No. No it wasn't. Getting back up was.</div>
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I knew going into the donkey ride I was likely allergic to them. I'm allergic to just about anything with four legs and fur, but I figured I'd just get some puffy eyes and a runny nose, which I can handle. I spend most of the year rocking that look. It turns out my allergic reaction to donkeys is similar to that of cats: a no-holds-barred attack on my lungs.</div>
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My throat started to swell as I walked back up the path. I had to stop way too often to catch my breath. The rest of the girls were at the top for at least 15 minutes before I joined them, panting as if I had just ran a marathon. It didn't help that the only way up was polluted with donkey cooties (a very scientific term). I sat for a few minutes in silence before we move on. It still took me half the day to regain a normal breathing pattern.</div>
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It was an experience.</div>
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We walked around for a little bit and took some pictures. I absolutely love how blue and white everything is. I felt like water and paint were competing for "prettiest blue." They tied.</div>
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We worked our way back toward the ATV place. When we first arrived there Wednesday, they recommended a restaurant next door. We decided to try out their rooftop garden for lunch. It was more of a porch, and it was really quite cold, but we pretended it wasn't and enjoyed our meal.<br />
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I'm not sure why, but I ended up getting pasta. I wasn't ready for Italian food again and pushed it around on my plate until it was cold. But hey, I'm in Greece. No complaining.</div>
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I feel like after every meal in Greece we got something free. Usually it was dessert, but here we got free shots of Ouzo. I think Amy was the only one to take hers. We paid and left to meet the rest of the girls.</div>
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They grabbed gyros at a small shop while we pooled money to buy six tickets for the boat Friday.</div>
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We got ourselves organized, I asked for directions and we were off to Oia!</div>
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We drove along a long curvy road that hugged the base of two mountains. Some of the sharper turns made me nervous. If I took them too hard I feared I would be plummeting toward the vast sea that stretched to the horizon to our right. I figured we'd end up in there one way or the other. If it wasn't my driving, the wind would just lift us up and drop us into the water. </div>
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I spotted a nice place to pull over and take some pictures. I watched as four ATVs pulled in behind me. We felt like a gang. It's funny because leading the group, I felt like such a badass speeding along. With no one in front of me, I can't see what we look like. But I know from how much I laughed at Mario Kart Jess and Kate.</div>
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It was time for a group picture. Nine girls. Five ATVs. One fantastically hilarious frame-worthy picture.</div>
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We kept going, but eventually reached Oia! When someone mentions Santorini, this is the town that immediately comes to mind. It's iconic.</div>
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As soon as we saw civilization and enough space to park all five vehicles, we hopped off and practically ran to see the view.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I wouldn't mind having that swimming pool/hottub</td></tr>
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The water looked painted. We sat around there for a while and made friends with a cat. But we soon decided we hadn't quite made it to the heart of the city.<br />
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We drove another few minutes, walked up a small hill and walked into the setting for "The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants."<br />
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We explored for a while. The streets were so narrow, but I could probably count on one hand how many people we passed at this point. I know we had a very different experience in Santorini because it was off-season, I think there was something magical about having the place practically to ourselves. I can't imagine pushing through crowds here. It would be a nightmare.<br />
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I bought some more souvenirs — I definitely went knickknack happy in Greece. I also bought some worry beads made from volcanic stone. It's a string of beads used to pass time and relieve stress. The idea is to keep the fingers and hands occupied when one is anxious or worried. There isn't any religious or ceremonial purpose — it's just to relax. Being a naturally fidgety person, I thought they would be perfect for me.<br />
I asked the woman who sold me the beads where we should go for the sunset. She said although everyone usually goes to the windmill, she recommends the castle. So to the castle we went. The view was surreal.<br />
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We were sitting around enjoying our solitude when a couple of dogs came bounding down the stairs. A couple of American girls followed them. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kate and Maximus</td></tr>
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They told us the dogs had been following them around for a while. Turns out they liked us better, because when we left shortly after to walk around some more, the dogs trotted up the stairs behind us, tails wagging.</div>
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We were supposed to meet Jess and Kate at the windmill. I'm not sure what they went off looking for, but we sat there with our new dogs for a while. Eventually we got tired of waiting, and we started walking. I got one of the dogs, who we named Maximus, got a little too excited as a ran off and he jumped up and bit my hand. It wasn't too hard or anything, but I was startled.</div>
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The dogs led us to an old abandoned home. We decided it must be where they live.</div>
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They weaved through the empty streets with us as we half-heartedly looked for Jess and Kate. We weren't really concerned. We stopped to buy some souvenirs. I found a little turtle figurine to buy. I have quite the collection of them at home. I'm surprised I haven't tried to find more until then.<br />
Just as I was getting used to having the place practically to ourselves, I rounded the corner and faced a wall of people. Erika told me it was their Bus2Alps travel-mates they're oh so fond of.<br />
In the three minutes it took me to push through them I was already annoyed with their topics. It felt like I walked into a crappy MTV reality show. "She said <i>what?!?</i>" "Nice, brah!" "Greeks are so gay."<br />
What? I told Erika I sympathized with her for being surrounded with these idiots a little too loud, and we ran off — and right into Kate and Jess.<br />
Reunited, we looped back around to the castle. The Bus2Alps crew had beat us there, but we still found places to sit and watch the sunset. I listened to the ridiculous conversations around me and watched the city and sky change colors together.<br />
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We left right before the sun slipped into the sea to beat the crowd out of there, and walked back in fading light to a restaurant where we had made reservations earlier.</div>
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We had lost one of our dogs to the crowds, but Maximus was surprisingly still with us. He followed us into the restaurant and out onto the patio overlooking the city where we ate. He curled up under our table by Kate's feet and ate the scraps we gave him.</div>
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The chef came out to talk to us. He ran his finger down the menu explaining what each dish was and which ones he had run out of. It was really helpful. He mentioned some sort of egg dish that Erika and I had settled on splitting, but when I ordered he said it was only for breakfast. I was confused as to why he even brought it up, but whatever. I moved onto option two: spaghetti with pesto. He's out. </div>
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Panicked, I ordered some sort of warm spinach and feta salad and handed back my menu. Then Kelsey ordered spaghetti. Turns out he was out of pesto, not the pasta. I misheard him.</div>
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I was disappointed until I took my first bite:</div>
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I wish I paid more attention to the name so I could figure out how to recreate this masterpiece. It was one of the best foods I had in Greece if not in Europe. Yum. Yum. Yum.</div>
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As usual, we got free dessert: warm brownie bites. We devoured them, paid and walked to the ATVs. I started handing people their helmets and pushing the ATVs to get them facing the right direction. Then I realized Jess, Kate, Bethany and Caitlin were nowhere to be seen. I had no idea where they could have gone. Amy and Erika went to look for them while Yelena, Kelsey and I watched Maximus chase cars away from us. He was so protective. When Erika and Amy came back empty handed, I ran back up the hill with the two of them to help look. The dark narrow streets were completely empty. Not knowing what else to do, we yelled their names a couple of times but were only answered with echoes of our own voices. We gave up and walked back down to where we parked — only to find them there with Maximus still chasing down anything that moved near us. When a dog in a nearby yard started barking at Bethany, Maximus took personal offense and barked ferociously at him until he cowered back into his corner. If that's not loyalty I don't know what is. We made an impression on this dog — and he on us. We were sad to leave him, but we had to.</div>
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We donned our helmets and started up our ATVs. I led the way out, or at least I thought I would. Maximus took charge of that one. He bolted in front of us, running through the streets and blazing a trail. At first it was adorable. He was leading us to the edge of town! But then he kept going, and it got sad. I told Erika, who was four-wheeler companion clutching me to try to keep us both warm in the wind, that I felt like we were abandoning our child. He was so determined. He just kept running. When he started to lose energy, he ran next to us. Just when I thought we'd pass him, he darted in front of my ATV and slowed to a walk, forcing me to slow drastically. He was damn smart. This continued for a while. When I thought we really passed him, I'd hear Erika yell, "He's got a second wind!" "And a third!" "Holy crap, here comes his forth wind." "Again? Seriously, dog?"</div>
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But eventually he disappeared behind us. We were both near tears. He pulled the same run and walk game with the next three ATVs. He had been running with us for about 15-20 minutes when he got to Jess and Kate, who pulled up the rear of our gang.</div>
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Apparently he walked in front of them and stopped still, panting harder than they've ever seen a dog pant. He looked up at them with the saddest eyes, the definition of puppy eyes, before sauntering to the side of the road and letting them pass.</div>
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I'm not a dog person by any means, largely due to my aforementioned allergies, but if I could, I would have found a way to bring him with us. I still feel like he's our dog.</div>
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We dropped off Erika, Yelena and Kelsey at their hotel and headed back to ours. When we arrived, Jess and Kate were crying. They told us what Maximus had done at the end.</div>
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I went to sleep hoping he found his way back to his home.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We love you, Maximus</td></tr>
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<span id="goog_1462525281"></span><span id="goog_1462525282"></span></div>Lydiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16657401452953073654noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5304175036627826090.post-47898839786642467272012-04-10T20:43:00.000-04:002013-03-16T10:22:03.679-04:00Photos of the Day<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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No photo for today. I was too busy trying to catch up on this!</div>
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<b>9 April 2012</b> <i>I want to go on the Carousel!</i></div>
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Saturday night we went out for Jessica's birthday. We were looking through pictures from it this evening, and Kate realized we went on a carousel. Incredibly jealous of our circular adventure on fake horses, she proclaimed she wanted to go. I told her I'd go with. We half ran all the way there and played follow the leader on the way back. I swear we're 20 years old!</div>
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<b>8 April 2012</b> <i>Happy Easter!</i></div>
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Florence knows how to do Easter. Fireworks and all. I got to the Duomo an hour and a half before Easter mass started. It took about 20 minutes to find my dad in the crowd. My mom had wedged her way toward the front. I stood on my tip toes under an umbrella with my dad and watched flags twist and spin in the air above the crowd and fireworks burst into the air. By the time the festivities were over and we found my mom again, we figured we wouldn't get to go into mass. But we spent the rest of the day walking around the rainy city.</div>
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<b>7 April 2012</b> <i>Piazza Signoria</i></div>
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Saturday was my first full day in Florence with my parents! We walked all over the city, ducking into museums, churches and restaurants whenever the rain started.</div>
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<b>6 April 2012</b> <i>Cinque Terre</i></div>
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Friday I brought my parents to Cinque Terre. I was so happy they got to see a different part of Italy: the seaside and the countryside!</div>
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<b>5 April 2012</b> <i>Dinner</i></div>
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My parents came back from Venice to an apartment full of groceries and several of my friends. We left them in the living room and cooked them dinner.</div>
</div>Lydiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16657401452953073654noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5304175036627826090.post-52109570087958525062012-04-10T20:42:00.002-04:002013-03-16T10:22:03.690-04:00We run this island.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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As much as I had loved <a href="http://lydiaislost.blogspot.it/2012/04/tuesday-in-santorini.html" target="_blank">Tuesday</a>, I felt like we didn't get to see much. So we decided to rent ATVs for a couple of days. We talked to Poppy at the front desk, and she called a rental company. A man came to pick us up. He took Kate, Bethany and me first, and dropped us off at the shop in Fira. Another man in red overalls came out to give us lessons but mostly to mock us while the other man drove back to get everyone else. He asked if any of us had ever drive a four-wheeler. Bethany answered with a yes. He smirked and led us over to the ATVs. He started quizzing her on her expertise, but she had only ridden a couple of times. He concluded that she was lying, and to teach us our lesson, he just waved his hand at a four-wheeler and let each of us figure out how to work it for a test drive up and down the street. He laughed as none of us could turn the vehicle around at the end of the narrow alleyway.</div>
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But apparently it was good enough, because when the rest of the girls showed up, they handed us helmets and three sets of keys. We wanted to get a couple of vespas too, but you need a scooter license to ride them in Greece. =[</div>
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So we paired up and paid for three scooters for two days. It broke down to €15 each — an unbelievable deal. Caitlin hopped on the back of mine, and we started our adventure.</div>
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First we went back to the black sand beach in hopes of finding a chocolate shop that Bethany had read about. Thinking something would be open there was obviously blind faith, but we tried anyway.</div>
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With no success, we moved on to Pyrgos, where Bethany also had the name of a restaurant to try. </div>
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The drive was absolutely beautiful. Caitlin and I started cheering on our yellow ATV as it chugged up the hills to Pygros. "Come on, Squirt. You've got this! Go, Squirt, go!!" He now had a name — and a gender. We also started yelling "banana walnut" in a British accent, because it was just completely necessary.</div>
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We reached Pygros, parked our go-carts (as I began thinking of them) and started walking around the town. Just like Kamari, nearly everything was closed. An employee at a small convenient store told us the restaurant we were looking for was closed, and the small cafe across the street was only serving coffee. We went back to the convenient store and with a couple of English words and a lot of hand gestures, they directed us to Mythos Grill House down the road. It too looked closed, but someone ushered us inside and we sat at a table overlooking the island.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo taken from <a href="http://italyshenanigans.blogspot.it/" target="_blank">Caitlin's blog</a></td></tr>
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We ordered two plates of tomato doughnuts, which we had heard was a must-have while in Santorini. They were basically deep fried tomatoes, but I really liked them. Most of the girls weren't to crazy about them. I think Kate spit hers out. More for me!</div>
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Amy and I split an order of cheese pies and I got eggplant dip. I thought the dip would come with bread, but it was supposed to be for the bread they gave us when we sat down. By the time I got my food, we had already hungrily scarfed down almost all of the bread. So I resorted to putting it on all the other food I had. It was still pretty good. It was so nice to be trying new food that wasn't in the pasta family.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCYWy1V_p2XAARFBUYzRI3heysZd9wjW2Kg29uO3LjntPmGSTG9h1-fA2B3Wn7zypOTiUiBZfQnQn96om0rW3k88sLBVJnpyNTr9KLL3wuz89tVA5OWxUv_epNwaSEs1f3-u67ELDtEYZ5/s1600/IMG_5582.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCYWy1V_p2XAARFBUYzRI3heysZd9wjW2Kg29uO3LjntPmGSTG9h1-fA2B3Wn7zypOTiUiBZfQnQn96om0rW3k88sLBVJnpyNTr9KLL3wuz89tVA5OWxUv_epNwaSEs1f3-u67ELDtEYZ5/s400/IMG_5582.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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After we ate, they gave us complimentary dessert. It was this weird gelatinous square cut into cubes. The texture was definitely weird, but other than that I really liked it, as did Amy. Everyone else just made faces. Kate tried to swallow hers whole like pills until she didn't have water. "I don't do weird food."</div>
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After lunch, Caitlin took the wheel for a while. I loved driving, so I was a little sad to give it up. But it turns out the ride is just as fantastic as a passenger. Without having to focus on the road, I saw so much more.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjv2Zy5KfkcFuttob6Kcr6uCxX6kyZv19G8Dthb-bhWxWDymTnjfTRMc0yj68zSNdnZDjlvZloQoJRCDMODgcUNNFdeV_0Inb9UC1O-1DFtOhC-qSCMJbQqYPUHjbVGC9s-QFuhKBl4bKK/s1600/IMG_5606.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjv2Zy5KfkcFuttob6Kcr6uCxX6kyZv19G8Dthb-bhWxWDymTnjfTRMc0yj68zSNdnZDjlvZloQoJRCDMODgcUNNFdeV_0Inb9UC1O-1DFtOhC-qSCMJbQqYPUHjbVGC9s-QFuhKBl4bKK/s320/IMG_5606.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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We continued in the direction we hoped was the red beach. We weren't terribly concerned with our destination, though, because the ride was so pretty. We just kept heading south.</div>
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We pulled over to take some pictures. I swear I spent my spring break in a post card. Perhaps a painting. But it's hard to believe this place is real. It's a paradise.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL-0Ylc2FrEz4RvPFJ_CKd-YFxqC8X_qY7wskMAFc42fu72zObz1WXLjxMyjcCxnlPMjB2iPJrxFCMps45n073rB2QatUgDooQvaHSjFKqbE1cKNKuwl90wOgxZZaJJnxPFkd8gSDBLXhn/s1600/DSC_0663.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL-0Ylc2FrEz4RvPFJ_CKd-YFxqC8X_qY7wskMAFc42fu72zObz1WXLjxMyjcCxnlPMjB2iPJrxFCMps45n073rB2QatUgDooQvaHSjFKqbE1cKNKuwl90wOgxZZaJJnxPFkd8gSDBLXhn/s400/DSC_0663.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our helmets made us look awfully ridiculous for as cool as riding the ATVs made us feel.</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitJgJatKv-33DvpJifFR5DMgPBw7vlHhQj2a4heol5wFs9-DUfXOjD3qRB8XoK1wRdKrL32btqsXFPKDh6tSoGQPPnwbSMNbzGLHUsXbeTHBZx1oeUBiDEIjka32t6GwADkhLLJYrhtR9e/s1600/DSC_0672.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitJgJatKv-33DvpJifFR5DMgPBw7vlHhQj2a4heol5wFs9-DUfXOjD3qRB8XoK1wRdKrL32btqsXFPKDh6tSoGQPPnwbSMNbzGLHUsXbeTHBZx1oeUBiDEIjka32t6GwADkhLLJYrhtR9e/s400/DSC_0672.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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We drove some more, following our navigators Kate and Jess. They were following signs for the red beach, when suddenly one directed them down a dirt path to our left. We bumped along the curves of the path through our own dust clouds. We passed a couple of donkeys and followed more signs supposedly directing us to the red beach. </div>
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Suddenly the path dropped steeply. I watched Jess and Kate disappear down the hill on their little mario kart. I still can't get over how much they looked like they belonged in the video game with their red ATV and white mushroom helmets.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizM7jbVuPgq9u0vKJlI78W869mRFa1cCBYuU4YTvFJEf24teVR7DXTuzBaDB50QNlj2hnjYolRW4Yu9Vv7hVBjQ_gpJ90etnxXyeLCLX-J4xgzNuo1ejGQmHdm_Be1Iivoh2NT8m2MRQXb/s1600/IMG_5666.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizM7jbVuPgq9u0vKJlI78W869mRFa1cCBYuU4YTvFJEf24teVR7DXTuzBaDB50QNlj2hnjYolRW4Yu9Vv7hVBjQ_gpJ90etnxXyeLCLX-J4xgzNuo1ejGQmHdm_Be1Iivoh2NT8m2MRQXb/s400/IMG_5666.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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Caitlin and I followed them to the bottom of the hill. We looked around the corner and still saw no sign of a beach. Just more dangerously sloped hills. We waved for Amy and Bethany to not follow us down there and decided it would be best to turn around and find a paved path to the beach. We didn't want to risk not being able to get back to the top. </div>
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Throttle squeezed tightly, Caitlin and Squirt got us back to the top without a problem.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs3X14wvWcB3H29EF0UfN-Lp6s7vr0SwAjH5nkHWCLwkkb0Y_-xCG7cM_sGp6_emZv66lc-v8USKNEmea8z-rpyQPldDj7PTk37U1sb7iYdtjNh14k00e8lpABEtKj2kWKPKYpXbiDe7SU/s1600/546897_3658484060479_1225951818_33754642_592727028_n.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs3X14wvWcB3H29EF0UfN-Lp6s7vr0SwAjH5nkHWCLwkkb0Y_-xCG7cM_sGp6_emZv66lc-v8USKNEmea8z-rpyQPldDj7PTk37U1sb7iYdtjNh14k00e8lpABEtKj2kWKPKYpXbiDe7SU/s400/546897_3658484060479_1225951818_33754642_592727028_n.jpeg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo courtesy of <a href="http://amyitaly.blogspot.it/" target="_blank">Amy</a></td></tr>
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Kate and Jess followed shortly. We got back to the main road and kept heading south. We just kept going until we reached the very tip of the island. The road ended at a small dirt path and a lighthouse. As we hopped off and removed our helmets, we could see a couple emerging from the path. Caitlin turned to me and said wouldn't it be funny if that was Melanie and Simon (<a href="http://lydiaislost.blogspot.it/2012/03/i-spent-saint-patricks-day-in-athens.html" target="_blank">the Canadian couple we had met in Athens)</a>? We knew they were coming to Santorini next, but what were the odds?</div>
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Pretty good I guess because low and behold, up walks Melanie and Simon. They're both in between jobs, so they decided to do a three-month tour of Europe. 19 countries. 25 cities. I found myself getting jealous, despite the fact that I'm studying abroad.</div>
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They said they were really enjoying Santorini, but were on to their next pitstop: Romania. We said our goodbyes again, and walked around the lighthouse on the path.</div>
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We rounded the corner and climbed up some rocks. We sat on the top of a cliff. Words can't capture this. I guarantee it.</div>
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I was sitting without a care in the world, not paying attention to anyone, when all of the sudden I heard Kate yell. I had seen her walk away a few minutes earlier, but I didn't think anything of it. We looked around and there she was — walking on the next cliff down, yelling for Jessica to take her picture.<br />
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I didn't even realize we could get to that cliff. It didn't look attached. Of course as soon as I took a picture of her I was getting up to explore too. Jessica, Bethany and I went down to the cliff, but Kate was nowhere to be found. We kept yelling her name and started to even get worried, but no response.<br />
I turned to Jess and said, "you call her." I guess she only has ears for Jess, because after one shout of her name, Kate replied.<br />
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We got to the edge of the cliff she was on before and saw that there was another one below we couldn't see from up by the lighthouse. She was climbing her way down that one. I had no idea Kate was so much of an adventurer. She just kept climbing.<br />
Jessica and I kept following her. Every time we got to where we last saw her, we found a new cliff a little lower down. The lighthouse kept getting smaller and began to disappear behind the cliffs the lower we got until it eventually disappeared all together.<br />
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Eventually we caught up to Kate, who was sitting on her "mermaid chair." There was a rock perfectly shaped into a chair. Kate decided it's where the mermaids sat. It only had one arm because the other side was for their fin. Couldn't argue with that logic.<br />
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We sat together for a few minutes, but I wanted to head back up. I knew there was no way the other three girls could see us, and we certainly couldn't hear them. I felt bad leaving them when we still wanted to find the red beach!<br />
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We climbed back up to meet them, then rounded the lighthouse and found some more rocks to climb. Kate is a monkey. Before I knew it, she was climbing another rock.<br />
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I can't really blame her though. I love climbing and nothing beat that view. Nothing.</div>
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Eventually we coaxed Kate down from her perch, and I reluctantly followed. We got back on our ATVs once more and retraced our path back to where we were before, hoping to pass the red beach.<br />
Caitlin and I were last in line, and I thought I saw a sign for it. So I spent 10 minutes honking and waving trying to get their attention, but little Squirt just couldn't keep up with the other two. I eventually got them to turn around so we could go back to the red beach... only to find out that I had seen a sign for the same dirt path we went down before. Oops.<br />
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We tried down the next path and parked in a small lot. There was a man walking his dog nearby. We tried to communicate with him to ask him where the heck we needed to go, but he spoke very little English. All we got out of it was that we weren't in the right spot, but we should go right back on the main road. And so we did. And we followed more red beach signs through another maze of streets. We reached the coast and saw no red, so we cut our losses and decided to head home. We raced along the streets as the sky turned pink. Caitlin was driving and Squirt actually pulled ahead of Mario Kart, but the lead was brief and Jess and Kate won. I don't think Bethany and Amy ever knew we were racing.<br />
When we got back to Karterados, we ran to the grocery store. I needed more greek yogurt. It was seriously the best yogurt I've had in my life. I miss it.<br />
We had dinner at home before Bethany, Caitlin, Amy and I drove into town in the dark. Erika, Yelena and Kelsey had arrived in Santorini that day with their Bus2Alps group. They were staying in Fira and we were supposed to pick them up on our ATVs around 8 p.m.<br />
We had an hour to kill, so the four of us walked around through a few shops and figured out where their hotel was. We drove Bethany home real quick so we would have enough room to pick up all three of our CCI sisters.<br />
Amy, Caitlin and I sat on the steps of their hotel for a while before they finally emerged. Erika ran and jumped on me, nearly knocking me over with her hug. Everyone joined the embrace as other people at the hotel, likely Bus2Alps travelers looked on in confusion.<br />
We tossed them helmets, and we rode off into the night. The girls were getting very sick of their travel-mates, so they were thrilled not only to escape them, but also to look so cool doing so on the back of four-wheelers. We were their personal escorts — their knights in shining armor.<br />
They came back to the hotel room and the nine of us talked about our Greek adventures. Caitlin, Bethany and Amy tried Ouzo, a typical Greek "Apéritifs." Caitlin and Bethany coughed and sputtered, practically gagging. Amy downed her shot, looked quizzical, shrugged her shoulders and declared she liked it. Jessica and Kate had some sort of mixed drink that they made too strong or too gross, and they passed it to Amy, who liked that one too. Before we knew it, they had accidentally gotten Amy a little tipsy. She started climbing over beds and jumping from one to another. Suffice to say we were entertained.<br />
After a couple of hours, Bethany, Caitlin and I took the girls back to their hotel.<br />
It was so great to see them. It's hard to see how much of a family we become while we're in Florence, but I really felt it then. I didn't expect to miss them so much after less than a week, but I did. We all did.<br />
And we had a couple more days of exploring with them before Bus2Alps took them elsewhere.<br />
By the time we got back, I was exhausted. Bedtime!<br />
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Another perfect day.</div>Lydiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16657401452953073654noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5304175036627826090.post-36254876861906123912012-04-10T16:42:00.002-04:002013-03-16T10:22:03.663-04:00Tuesday in Santorini<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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For our first full day in Santorini, we set out to find a beach — red or black. It really didn't matter. Getting ready in the morning was hectic. Four girls to one bathroom is bad enough in Florence. Six was a nightmare, and for a few minutes we were worried Jessica wouldn't make it to the busstop by 11:30 a.m. </div>
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A few minutes behind schedule the bus came flying around the corner and screeched to a halt in front of us. We were trying to remember the name of where we wanted to go when the bus doors clanged open and the driver barked at us to get on. We all scrambled aboard, and it lurched ahead as we tried to find our seats. A man in the aisle taking money for tickets barely moved to the side for us to clamber around him. I bruised my leg in the all-around terrifying process. We gave him our money and decided we'd just get off when we saw water. The island was small enough, so we weren't too worried. About 15 minutes into the ride, the driver rounded a corner and pulled to a stop. Ticket man bolted off the bus and into a store nearby. I was curious as to why the driver was able to find patience to wait for him. Then, about five minutes later, he came back double-fisting sandwiches. The bus started forward as soon as the driver had a sandwich in hand. Not sure why he couldn't wait for that sandwich because not two minutes later, the bus took a sharp left and stopped abruptly. Everyone climbed off. We didn't see a beach, so we weren't moving. </div>
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"Kamari!" ticket man hollered expectantly.</div>
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We played dumb.</div>
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"KAMARI!" he nearly shrieked, tilting his head down and raising his eyebrows as he looked over the rims of invisible glasses. </div>
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All right buddy, we got it. We climbed off and the bus moved on, belching out black smog. Welcome to Kamari.</div>
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Thankfully, it didn't take long to find a beach. We walked half a block, turned right and saw blue paradise at the end of the road.</div>
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We got closer and realized we had found the black beach! The water was a brilliant clear blue. We eased our way across the rocky beach to dip our toes in the water. Looking back at photos, I still can't get over how clear the water was.</div>
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I spent the next couple of hours sleeping, writing, reading and listening to music as the sun slowly colored my skin. It was glorious. </div>
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After a while it was time to find food. Caitlin had packed a lunch, so she held down the fort while we began our surprisingly challenging search for food. March is clearly the off-season for Santorini. The town was completely empty.</div>
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There were two boutiques, one restaurant and a grocery store open. Everything else was boarded up tightly. We didn't mind walking around for food though, as everything was still beautiful — and very Greek.<br />
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We eventually did find the lone open restaurant. It was cheap and delicious — a veggie pita for €1.50. Can't beat that. We stopped at the grocery store on our way back to the beach. I was looking for lemon juice for Caitlin to lighten her hair, but the woman at the store just kept showing me lemonade. I settled on real lemons. Bethany and I brought back three ice cream treats from which we let Caitlin choose her dessert. I sat in utter bliss on the rocky beach eating my ice cream as it melted in the sun.</div>
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A line of huge rocks jutted out from the coast to our left. </div>
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Of course I wanted to climb out there. Caitlin and Amy came with to explore. I blazed a trail scrabbling over the rocks. Caitlin followed shortly, and Amy, not a fan of heights, stayed at a rock safely surrounded by earth. </div>
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I sat next to Caitlin for a while, but there was one rock farther taunting me to reach it. I spent a good 15 minutes getting laughed at as I tried to figure out my way over. I could reach the first rock under the water, but it was so slimy I felt like I was ice skating as soon as my outstretched foot reached it. I'm no good at ice skating, so I eventually admitted defeat.<br />
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We talked Amy into joining us at the tip of the rocks, and I escorted her over the boulders to our perch. Unfortunately, just as soon as we sat down, we heard Kate, Jess and Bethany yelling for us to come back. It was time to go. We climbed back to the beach and met them at the road.</div>
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We headed back to the bus stop with absolutely no idea as to when it would come — and even if we had a time, we figured it would be late as everything in Greece seems to be. We rounded the corner to find a man at the busstop. He spun around to see us and got so flustered he dropped and broke his bottle of beer. He was rather strange, but told us when the next bus would be coming and talked to us for a while. Eventually a black car with tinted windows pulled up out of nowhere to pick him up, and just like that, he was gone.</div>
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We also made friends with this stray dog at the busstop:</div>
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We still had 15 minutes before the bus was supposed to get back, so I went around the corner to one of the boutiques with Kate, Amy and Caitlin. The door was wide open and the closed sign we saw earlier was nowhere to be seen, but the lights were off and there wasn't an employee inside. It was really strange. I took a look at a couple of price tags and bowed out. Caitlin was right behind me.</div>
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We had only been gone for about five minutes, but we looked up the block to see a bus coming.</div>
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"BUS!" we screamed back to Kate and Amy before tearing down the street. Bethany and Jess came running around the corner toward us in a panic. "BUS BUS BUS."</div>
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I nearly tipped over as I leaned in circling around to the door of the bus. We crashed into each other as we all reached the door at the same time and fumbled on board. Of course it was early this time. And of course it didn't leave for 10 minutes after we got on.</div>
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We weren't too familiar with where we were staying yet, so we all kept an eye out for our villa. When we saw it, we all started frantically pressing the "stop" buttons, but nothing happened. So we all stood up and started moving forward, hoping to get his attention. He was so engrossed with his conversation with the passenger in the front seat that he didn't see us until we were several minutes past our stop. We were basically halfway to Fira again. We walked back and collapsed in our room.</div>
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Just as I sat down, someone spotted Poppy (one of the owners) outside waving us down. She asked us to come to the lobby. She had prepared something for us.</div>
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At first we were really nervous. The night before we had broken a plate — or rather Caitlin did. She saw a spider and had a bonafide fit over it, flailing her arms and knocking Amy's plate out of her lap. It crashed to the floor with her sandwich and shattered. </div>
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We filed into the lobby and sat at a table she gestured toward. But instead of a scolding, we got dinner! They had prepared dinner for us out of the blue. They gave us bread, beans and pasta with pork! The beans were absolutely delicious. All the meat-eaters seemed to enjoy the pasta. </div>
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It was absolutely adorable. They were beaming with happiness to give us dinner. I felt like I was at home.</div>
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We thanked them over and over again before heading back to the room to relax for the night.</div>
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</div>Lydiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16657401452953073654noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5304175036627826090.post-59398335243745249372012-04-09T19:01:00.002-04:002013-03-16T10:22:03.701-04:00Welcome to Santorini<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="http://lydiaislost.blogspot.com/2012/03/athens.html" target="_blank"><br class="Apple-interchange-newline" />Last time</a> we talked, I left off with our plane to Athens.</div>
After a brief 25-minute flight, we landed in Santorini! The owner of our hostel picked us up at the airport and drove us to the paradise where we'd be staying for the next few nights: <a href="http://www.villamanos.gr/" target="_blank">Villa Manos.</a><br />
He parked the van and jumped out to get our suitcases for us. No one moved, but Jessica said, "Wait. <i>This</i> is where we're staying?!?"<br />
Yes, yes it was.<br />
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The inside was nothing special — just two rooms lined with beds to sleep six — but we weren't planning on spending much time inside anyway. </div>
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And in line with that plan, we threw our suitcases at the ends of our respective beds and walked outside to the pool.</div>
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We lounged for a while in complete awe of where we were. Everything was so colorful. The sky was as blue as ever and shared its vibrancy with the aqua water of the pool and the sea. We decided to venture into Fira, the island's capital. Someone said it was only seven or eight minutes away, so we started walking.</div>
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And we kept walking and walking. It turns out it was seven or eight minutes by bus. The walk was closer to 30 or 40 minutes, but I didn't mind. It was gorgeous.</div>
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After a couple of stops to ask for directions, we eventually made it!</div>
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We shopped and looked around for a while. I bought a much-needed pair of sunglasses but saved the rest of my money. We walked back when it started to get dark. Bethany, Caitlin, Amy and I stopped to get some take-out food for dinner. I ordered a Greek salad. We crossed the street to meet Kate and Jess at the grocery store. We did some shopping for the week and walked back in total darkness. It was a little scary crossing the bridges where a sidewalk was non-existant, but we made it back safely to eat our dinner. I had expected lettuce. Turns out it was feta cheese, olives, peppers and onions piled on a whole lot of tomatos. It was good, just not what I expected at all.</div>
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We spent the rest of the night lounging, talking and trying unsuccessfully to download Hercules from iTunes.</div>
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All-in-all, a good first introduction to Santorini!</div>
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<span id="goog_1635505004"></span><span id="goog_1635505005"></span></div>Lydiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16657401452953073654noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5304175036627826090.post-6156705161636306942012-04-05T09:18:00.001-04:002013-03-16T10:22:03.704-04:00My Week in Photos<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I have a list of excuses for why I've gotten so behind on this blog, but you deserve none of them.<br />
An intense game of catch-up starts now.<br />
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<b>4 April 2012</b> <i>Red Velvet</i></div>
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Last week in class we were practicing writing recipes in Italian. Caitlin translated a recipe for red velvet cake balls. Nicoletta was completely confused as to how something red could be delicious. This was last Wednesday and a few hours before my parents were getting on a plane to London. I immediately called my mom and told her she must bring two boxes of red velvet cake mix. She obliged and threw in a tub of frosting for a bonus 'cause she's great. We finally made the cake balls last night! Suffice to say Erika and Amy were the two rolling them. Red hands were completely worth it. Nicoletta loved them!</div>
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<b>3 April 2012</b> <i>Duomo</i></div>
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My parents came home from Rome in time to get dinner and walk around the city. I wore them out to make sure they slept soundly before heading to Venice Wednesday morning!</div>
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<b>2 April 2012</b> <i>Just a Monday</i></div>
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With my parents off to Rome for a couple of days, I spent the day preparing for an interview. At 9 p.m. I interviewed for editor of the Stater. I didn't get the position, but I'm OK with that. The new editor is more than qualified and will do a terrific job. I can try again in the spring. For now, I'm applying for managing editor instead. Although I would have liked to be editor in the fall, it's more about helping the Stater progress than a title — and I still have a lot of ideas to contribute from another position.</div>
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<b>1 April 2012</b> <i>Welcome to Italy and April</i></div>
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It was a bittersweet day. Sunday started my last month in Italy, but I got to spend the day introducing my parents to this country. We flew into Pisa early that morning, saw the leaning tower, then took a train to Florence. I lead them around Florence and up to Piazzale Michelangelo, where my mom sat in the same place she did 30 years ago. (Photo to come later)</div>
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<b>31 March 2012</b> <i>Tower Bridge</i></div>
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Day 2 in London was just as perfect, even though the weather wasn't. We saw everything from the London Eye, to Buckingham Palace, to Westminster Abbey, to London Parliament and Big Ben, to the Tower of London and the Tower Bridge.</div>
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<b>30 March 2012</b> <i>Trafalgar Square</i></div>
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My first day in London began here in Trafalgar Square. Not a bad way to start. We spent the rest of the day wandering around and seeing the city from the top of a tour bus. Friday night we went to see <i>The King's Speech</i></div>
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<b>29 March 2012</b> <i>Hello, 'rents!</i></div>
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My parents came to Europe! I'm so excited for both of them. We spent three nights with my mom's friend, Jay. He went to college with her in Ohio and now lives in London. So there's hope for me to move from the midwest to Europe too!</div>
<br /></div>Lydiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16657401452953073654noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5304175036627826090.post-82379476835060234442012-03-27T18:18:00.001-04:002013-03-16T10:22:03.732-04:00Photo of the Day<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQPM4tNFjnsYf4m49_-Q4hzkIkSFMBDvei0z4dujqwSY8Z49Fd9Zm4kIqzSCnIRKdkMu0dOjyntZPOlSHGwJD5OYkevMTeKUSn_Te-c-NTu34nyYluEJDZ5bKSN7XtalOWaaZwcovsRBev/s1600/DSC_0454.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQPM4tNFjnsYf4m49_-Q4hzkIkSFMBDvei0z4dujqwSY8Z49Fd9Zm4kIqzSCnIRKdkMu0dOjyntZPOlSHGwJD5OYkevMTeKUSn_Te-c-NTu34nyYluEJDZ5bKSN7XtalOWaaZwcovsRBev/s640/DSC_0454.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<b>27 March 2012</b> <i>Florence</i></div>
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Today Caitlin and I went filming for our practicum class. I am still in awe of the number of tourists in town. I swear they've increased tenfold. But I don't blame them. I love this city.</div>
<br /></div>Lydiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16657401452953073654noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5304175036627826090.post-17238961505178216812012-03-27T18:09:00.000-04:002013-03-16T10:22:03.635-04:00Αθήνα. Athens.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Sunday started with another delicious roll and hardboiled egg breakfast. I'm now hooked on hardboiled eggs — something my mother will be thrilled to hear.<br />
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We met Claude and James downstairs at 11 a.m. Claude wanted to join us for our free day at the Acropolis. The night before James was going to say his goodbyes but decided he'd stop by with Claude in the morning to see us one more time. He fully intended to part ways there and go lay on a beach, but we're just so awesome he ended up hanging out with us for the rest of the day. What's a Greek beach next to the company of six fun American girls?</div>
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As we walked to the Acropolis, Bethany and James bickered over Mr. Darcy and the expectations he has set for British men. Thanks to Mr. Darcy, James said, women assume every British man will be exactly like the character, but in reality "we're all scumbags." It was entertaining.<br />
We climbed the stairs to the Acropolis and got our free Sunday tickets. Free Sundays is possibly the greatest idea ever.<br />
We passed through the turnstiles and started up the hill, trying not to slip on the smooth rock. To our right was the Odeon of Herodes Atticus, which we had seen from below the day before.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd68J7VwQ-1gRQDMoyC4AbjJJKNUZqIMmuJVwopztNoVGDjFOmDjUOPD8iv6nV-9DEUQl6XpftUl5N5J2_Iax541APW2q4kkAVCxRytjs_JCR6bEZDv-Aoq9QUgYwdHyHY_7a9BsrvBS3T/s1600/DSC_0182.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd68J7VwQ-1gRQDMoyC4AbjJJKNUZqIMmuJVwopztNoVGDjFOmDjUOPD8iv6nV-9DEUQl6XpftUl5N5J2_Iax541APW2q4kkAVCxRytjs_JCR6bEZDv-Aoq9QUgYwdHyHY_7a9BsrvBS3T/s320/DSC_0182.JPG" width="320" /></a>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwz7ULdFkTNXo3XgzsNh7YAFRg0g-Nx61NRGDTk_-zZGmdUBJgKsFyyhbCxVMrIJcWXJf9G8WUkVy1Ug4CpoKZNOgGohHHm5Z-aLTccnaVpkCRp-hKhoyed_8Dn5iVIQPmuqKyTKdabR40/s1600/DSC_0187.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwz7ULdFkTNXo3XgzsNh7YAFRg0g-Nx61NRGDTk_-zZGmdUBJgKsFyyhbCxVMrIJcWXJf9G8WUkVy1Ug4CpoKZNOgGohHHm5Z-aLTccnaVpkCRp-hKhoyed_8Dn5iVIQPmuqKyTKdabR40/s320/DSC_0187.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
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Saturday's tour guide said the only way to see it from the inside is to attend a concert during the summer. I wish that was an option. He made sure to note that only serious artists would be playing there. "Nothing like Lady Gaga, Britney Spears or what's the one? Justin Bieber."<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMpH2vHs5iAhki6araTIQ9lgWrUTJtgFkmTqpk39-5rnjUPvPAQOOqW1I2ILbPN4Q4Ywcz12jIMxKm3s9UiUgF2bLYy92bTziEk63Xu7DU_WlMR2kL6hvWpfKxZORa3tZcJNHZytzCl7t2/s1600/319862_3503868436014_1250826327_33416521_1621965952_n.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMpH2vHs5iAhki6araTIQ9lgWrUTJtgFkmTqpk39-5rnjUPvPAQOOqW1I2ILbPN4Q4Ywcz12jIMxKm3s9UiUgF2bLYy92bTziEk63Xu7DU_WlMR2kL6hvWpfKxZORa3tZcJNHZytzCl7t2/s400/319862_3503868436014_1250826327_33416521_1621965952_n.jpeg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo by <a href="http://wheretheduckarewe.tumblr.com/" target="_blank">Bethany</a> </td></tr>
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<span style="text-align: left;">Next up: into the actual Acropolis. The Acropolis is the name for the entire flat-topped rock that towers above the city where the Greeks constructed architectural masterpieces.</span><br />
<span style="text-align: left;">The name is used to refer to both the rock itself and everything built on top of it. The purpose of the Acropolis changed frequently throughout history.</span><br />
We walked through the Propylaea, the gateway to the Acropolis. The white marble columns were brilliantly contrasted with the sky. Athens knows how to do weather.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo0rk3iwXQDF-dy_OFfEmyH8QuScoCQPG58GsFZuAJwqbx0E6uYCQltLZJsk9EtOiGyj3B_V7AsG4yoRrdIFWhkkBAU72wUmAsbvneb7f487ZzMVDBP4yGfXv8Bwvq-zkY5mSSi78Fm0T4/s1600/DSC_0190.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo0rk3iwXQDF-dy_OFfEmyH8QuScoCQPG58GsFZuAJwqbx0E6uYCQltLZJsk9EtOiGyj3B_V7AsG4yoRrdIFWhkkBAU72wUmAsbvneb7f487ZzMVDBP4yGfXv8Bwvq-zkY5mSSi78Fm0T4/s320/DSC_0190.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Propylaea</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRT4EKidlbIgWuIk1H_OmFLbAfULsoLNtauIN0BOKB05gm8wfmbxIRo47dpEJOtnG4nS8oRAnBCRraxuvyc5iGu6lo_rBWJVQ3K2Bwfr2Eeel96edOsnBwwQZmGz0jSBnwycIteV04FBXR/s1600/374069_10150604222416086_723696085_9748156_1056511237_n.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRT4EKidlbIgWuIk1H_OmFLbAfULsoLNtauIN0BOKB05gm8wfmbxIRo47dpEJOtnG4nS8oRAnBCRraxuvyc5iGu6lo_rBWJVQ3K2Bwfr2Eeel96edOsnBwwQZmGz0jSBnwycIteV04FBXR/s320/374069_10150604222416086_723696085_9748156_1056511237_n.jpeg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo courtesy of <a href="http://italyshenanigans.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Caitlin</a></td></tr>
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At first, there was not much to do but stand in front of the Parthenon. I've seen it in pictures hundreds upon hundreds of times, but seeing it tower above me was surreal.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4dkeiqVR9p_QSEebxQ0IwNGc8HD_pMR0j2DhvF7c0BmKsfgC3-NdIM8CuSZQyPnQFOMbIXcQSYZgRignb9WFrI521jfoFgOEkz4faYUzMKxNOPHWj7sCy0m0ApYpUEAoDHYPY6u1f9Y6n/s1600/DSC_0195.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4dkeiqVR9p_QSEebxQ0IwNGc8HD_pMR0j2DhvF7c0BmKsfgC3-NdIM8CuSZQyPnQFOMbIXcQSYZgRignb9WFrI521jfoFgOEkz4faYUzMKxNOPHWj7sCy0m0ApYpUEAoDHYPY6u1f9Y6n/s320/DSC_0195.JPG" width="320" /></a>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6Ljxu6nVbj8MI3itq7gJaYrrs7SsHiyQ84A85AZAk8BwtTNyoXqXz9CXVYisi7h2AUFJMu1ImCeze5ikQSduoUp3-WLytU2Lu6XlpFhbmVDzhxMwl3-ZoOgtxXUi_ETgcX6RFa9eXDPS1/s1600/DSC_0194.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6Ljxu6nVbj8MI3itq7gJaYrrs7SsHiyQ84A85AZAk8BwtTNyoXqXz9CXVYisi7h2AUFJMu1ImCeze5ikQSduoUp3-WLytU2Lu6XlpFhbmVDzhxMwl3-ZoOgtxXUi_ETgcX6RFa9eXDPS1/s320/DSC_0194.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
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We sat on the ledge for a while, chatting and looking out over the city. Everyone else sat with their backs to the city, legs safely facing the Parthenon, craning their necks. Per usual, I swung my legs to the outside and made them all nervous. It's what I do. But I couldn't resist when this was the view:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEmsKMKVgBIzlJGm7oEzfrEeFZHSi-KUadXhkhkdksgRaJkHhYFmm-6hT2gxaAS0TL1dvmNHWwHpyA4F0_yu_uvkVXnG9SCJF5otYrZrRlTs9ZQ0g4oeBbQFMzN5woF8ByGsRwSOIcUT1W/s1600/DSC_0210.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEmsKMKVgBIzlJGm7oEzfrEeFZHSi-KUadXhkhkdksgRaJkHhYFmm-6hT2gxaAS0TL1dvmNHWwHpyA4F0_yu_uvkVXnG9SCJF5otYrZrRlTs9ZQ0g4oeBbQFMzN5woF8ByGsRwSOIcUT1W/s640/DSC_0210.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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Below we could see the remains of another theater.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDCeld4xQE-NZx1hMnVISWDOY-4unbLaccU_XwO8hIflpLIo89SHFnm7VR2FEjivUZsorui1zHo1P6u9TvXd3w7elpRvJorP4uq9pyL9fgAd3mrCqKEhiB8pNnaEt9yR9uzEdf6TWBB9a1/s1600/DSC_0211.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDCeld4xQE-NZx1hMnVISWDOY-4unbLaccU_XwO8hIflpLIo89SHFnm7VR2FEjivUZsorui1zHo1P6u9TvXd3w7elpRvJorP4uq9pyL9fgAd3mrCqKEhiB8pNnaEt9yR9uzEdf6TWBB9a1/s400/DSC_0211.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Temenos of Dionysus Eleuthereus</td></tr>
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We meandered our way up to a huge lookout point for more photos. I was still in awe of the city. I felt like I was living on a postcard. Thank you again, Greek Gods, for that weather.</div>
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We looped around the other side of the Acropolis to the Erechtheion. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrkYVugmnlm3RiOkNIdEWg8z3I1MtFf-81t_K4Vz-yy4yG2IeBXLMi_JCroJ46DsoN-nYRzR7be0wNlMRhrDB7KLme6jhubiTeTllRxfotdNHHTjnP4iKJOEK7UdovyMjRFYQoK0Hhtsxu/s1600/DSC_0230.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrkYVugmnlm3RiOkNIdEWg8z3I1MtFf-81t_K4Vz-yy4yG2IeBXLMi_JCroJ46DsoN-nYRzR7be0wNlMRhrDB7KLme6jhubiTeTllRxfotdNHHTjnP4iKJOEK7UdovyMjRFYQoK0Hhtsxu/s320/DSC_0230.JPG" width="320" /></a>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnLrV4C_BlYGIJWwOAXKBAkuosLULE-8J7cpzO7Go-jS8Lwr4WY6d1qMZfLj1DgkFzRd2dwqXNfj_5sVLs0o-OOCCM8_lLmWKD8VTOHNAeDh2qSqu2eTLnKvCFH50p7_tgdlIhVTdcPbIV/s1600/DSC_0232.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnLrV4C_BlYGIJWwOAXKBAkuosLULE-8J7cpzO7Go-jS8Lwr4WY6d1qMZfLj1DgkFzRd2dwqXNfj_5sVLs0o-OOCCM8_lLmWKD8VTOHNAeDh2qSqu2eTLnKvCFH50p7_tgdlIhVTdcPbIV/s320/DSC_0232.JPG" width="320" /></a>
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We sat there for a while before eventually leaving the Acropolis. Saturday I had seen frozen lemonade advertised across from the entrance, so obviously that was the next destination. I really miss lemonade, but not enough to pay €4.50 for one, so I split it.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSIorybaK340wktJCeWfpNBqTOvqiGdZBHJSgmB0w7Jp7gUau4kyIRB2Kp6psVW3-QHJmY_mfIcu-iSt4DxYnS2dtI_VTM9Z4k1DfMhjPBjoXmuJ-zg7xLLWrBLw_t6Mt7F2pWrkkEK8sw/s1600/483694_3640844059490_1225951818_33746179_203115582_n.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSIorybaK340wktJCeWfpNBqTOvqiGdZBHJSgmB0w7Jp7gUau4kyIRB2Kp6psVW3-QHJmY_mfIcu-iSt4DxYnS2dtI_VTM9Z4k1DfMhjPBjoXmuJ-zg7xLLWrBLw_t6Mt7F2pWrkkEK8sw/s320/483694_3640844059490_1225951818_33746179_203115582_n.jpeg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo by <a href="http://amyitaly.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Amy</a></td></tr>
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We headed to the rock once more before walking down to the Ancient Agora of Athens.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGvgpy9x9u8cOuVahHxOrFbh6TZAXvFhrOLF4SkqJCjP1luEVXa_qiDWTb3etMW989haU7TPeXNLLFq07lvjz7bHToIve4XBrjgTbKSLa6lha1HDOmLzFf1tBhpVh955UtDuj1-nkBaebx/s1600/IMG_2340.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGvgpy9x9u8cOuVahHxOrFbh6TZAXvFhrOLF4SkqJCjP1luEVXa_qiDWTb3etMW989haU7TPeXNLLFq07lvjz7bHToIve4XBrjgTbKSLa6lha1HDOmLzFf1tBhpVh955UtDuj1-nkBaebx/s400/IMG_2340.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo by <a href="http://followjesswhite.wordpress.com/" target="_blank">Jess</a></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Agora of Athens</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMWErv_OdWMF2qdpD1V3Io2HsKpbEsrI0DfIOrlSa1RN8obwgStqzMG05ps8UrHRP_kfIdJfVCdOAXa12vUsZ7pf34zgu1EE-cnYM2R-7ZWTCgyb2ohNGmqvq_0jdfWXmyuWySd48OwuXx/s1600/DSC_0263.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMWErv_OdWMF2qdpD1V3Io2HsKpbEsrI0DfIOrlSa1RN8obwgStqzMG05ps8UrHRP_kfIdJfVCdOAXa12vUsZ7pf34zgu1EE-cnYM2R-7ZWTCgyb2ohNGmqvq_0jdfWXmyuWySd48OwuXx/s320/DSC_0263.JPG" width="320" /></a></td><td><br />
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The Temple of Hephaestus sits on the far end of the Agora. Constructed around 400 B.C., it's the most well-preserved ancient Greek temple. Constructing something with such longevity seems unimaginable today.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwFCzM_MPcMy3nYbkhWlVR9a4MSbZ0IJmg5TOY7hDOOqEm-xT7JXXbbiYh6ZeB6Se6Fg5Cgz6flYBXTYuFwMV0l3TMDdJPoh-O8CmaIU5o6Siu3Ug_b04SuCDB_71AZ4zTLTeonBe681g3/s1600/DSC_0282.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwFCzM_MPcMy3nYbkhWlVR9a4MSbZ0IJmg5TOY7hDOOqEm-xT7JXXbbiYh6ZeB6Se6Fg5Cgz6flYBXTYuFwMV0l3TMDdJPoh-O8CmaIU5o6Siu3Ug_b04SuCDB_71AZ4zTLTeonBe681g3/s320/DSC_0282.JPG" width="320" /></a>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs1jVeWG_LsmqfenmrtKblwjKCvu3-XIynMTtBBCcA9q1Gyig-ruaUJrXR8RdhdIKn21mPlUt66FE3rlh-OABnZfUDbe_UMWjLrLgcgu22eRSi3dS49nZfUaPPUlVHy8Gq85sWALqlXg1L/s1600/DSC_0299.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs1jVeWG_LsmqfenmrtKblwjKCvu3-XIynMTtBBCcA9q1Gyig-ruaUJrXR8RdhdIKn21mPlUt66FE3rlh-OABnZfUDbe_UMWjLrLgcgu22eRSi3dS49nZfUaPPUlVHy8Gq85sWALqlXg1L/s400/DSC_0299.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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Before we knew it, it was 2:30 p.m. The Temple of Zeus and other famous archeological sites — also all free Sundays — closed at 3 p.m. and were on the other side of the Acropolis. We hopelessly decided we'd try to make it. After about 15 minutes of power walking that seemed to lead us no closer to our goals, we gave up and headed back to Monastiraki Square. James and Claude came with me to the same sandwich shop I had gone to Saturday. The rest of the girls went to get gyros again. The crowds were unbearable. I squeezed my way out of the shop, veggie sandwich in hand, and scanned the crowd as I started to walk. I would have missed Claude and James if they didn't yell at me as I was passing. We wedged ourselves onto a small concrete ledge and ate our lunch, elbows clutched to our sides. Completely stuffed and covered in sandwich crumbs, I followed them as we looked for the others.</div>
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Eventually we did. They all waited near an overpriced shoe shop as Amy and I left to get a new suitcase. I found one for €15, snatched it up and ran back.</div>
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We started back to the hostels as a group but were quickly consumed by the massive hordes of people. I have no idea where they all came from. It was as if they got bored inside so decided to stand in the middle of the road shoulder to shoulder to block anyone needing to pass just for fun. It didn't appear that any of them had destinations. I threw some elbows and used my new suitcase to try to create a path, but every gap I created closed right behind me. I imagine it's similar to drowning.</div>
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After a good 15 minutes, I emerged with Caitlin and James in tow. The crowd had swallowed the rest of our friends. We shrugged and continued toward the hostel. Every man for himself. James carried the suitcase for a while — not too much of a scumbag — and we made it home. He had to head out to see a "footy" game, which turned into <a href="http://www.dailymail.co.uk/sport/football/article-2117031/Olympiakos-v-Panathinaikos-abandoned-fans-riot.html" target="_blank">a riot that ended the match early</a>. It's strange that something like that happened just a few miles from me. We were all clueless.</div>
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We spent the next couple of hours perusing shops and buying pointless souvenirs. Around 8 p.m. we decided to venture out to find a restaurant. As much as we loved the burgers at the fish cafe downstairs, we wanted something new. As usual, Kate made friends with one of the stray dogs. He loyally followed us around until we found a restaurant. </div>
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We were the first and last inside with choice seating right in front of the live music. At first it was awkward, but soon a large group of people filed in and took up the table behind us.</div>
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The waiters were all absolutely delightful. They were my vision of happy Greek grandfathers. Somehow one of them overheard Jessica say the word "dance" and immediately pulled her up in front of the musicians. He guided her through the simple steps of a traditional Greek dance, and before we knew it, we were all up there kicking our feet and spinning in a circle, arms around each others' backs. The other table sat and idly watched while we had a blast. Every time we sat down, they gave us about two minutes before pulling us up again. We were always clapping, dancing or listening to Jessica sing with the band. twice.</div>
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It was a pretty slow night I think largely due to the football match. Every sports bar we passed was overflowing with people. A couple of other tables came and left. One particularly obnoxious group of about 20 Americans came in, ordered shots of Ouzo and left without ordering anything else, dirtying an entire table for the poor staff to clean for nothing. It irritated me.</div>
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But they loved us. They brought us fresh apple and orange slices and smiled every time we yelled OPA! </div>
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When the room was back down to the six of us, the waiters and the band, the manager yelled into the back. I didn't catch his name, but this guy came running out to show us how to move our hips. He was hilarious. He got up on a chair and started gyrating like it was his last day on Earth. Caitlin took her turn on the chair next, and I was near tears laughing.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDgghukGd099VmSx2d4z4AwCszhaSE0ZghyphenhyphenfPsoVKXyRop_p8-VkD_N1FJN7Qx-UE1Anat5x5O4c6Vz6JVBq0Di9QAHVUxF6nj4o17PoTx3b-KRLbOGOfzkRTdfOcUE200cfAMfqxopLch/s1600/487118_3640903180968_1225951818_33746272_2100578273_n.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDgghukGd099VmSx2d4z4AwCszhaSE0ZghyphenhyphenfPsoVKXyRop_p8-VkD_N1FJN7Qx-UE1Anat5x5O4c6Vz6JVBq0Di9QAHVUxF6nj4o17PoTx3b-KRLbOGOfzkRTdfOcUE200cfAMfqxopLch/s320/487118_3640903180968_1225951818_33746272_2100578273_n.jpeg" style="cursor: move;" width="320" /></a>
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It started getting late, and we kept trying to leave, but every time they'd start a new song. Eventually things slowed down, and we said our goodbyes. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo courtesy of <a href="http://amyitaly.blogspot.it/" target="_blank">Amy</a></td></tr>
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We left the restaurant and walked over to the Temple of Zeus and the Panathinaiko. Seeing ancient masterpieces at night is still so much more powerful. I absolutely love it. I couldn't have asked for a better final night in Athens.</div>
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Monday we had to be on the metro to the airport by 11:30 a.m. to catch our flight to Santorini! I didn't want to waste the morning, so I talked Amy into packing the night before and getting up early enough to go inside the gates of the Temple of Zeus.
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We had hoped to see the Panathinaiko, but we were out of time. We had to run back to the hostel to catch the metro. We made it to the airport with plenty of time and relaxed until boarding time. After a short 25-minute plane ride, one gumdrop candy and a glass of orange juice, we landed in Santorini!<br />
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</div>Lydiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16657401452953073654noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5304175036627826090.post-63254068384177691862012-03-25T17:18:00.001-04:002013-03-16T10:22:03.709-04:00POTD<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Other than a shower, a trip to the grocery store and cooking a mid-afternoon meal, I've spent the entire day sick in bed. I excuse myself from today's photo, and I apologize for any inconvenience.</div>
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<b>24 March 2012</b> <i>αντίο</i></div>
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We caught our ride to the airport at 7:30 a.m., and I walked into my apartment around 8 p.m. I acquired a rather nasty cold Friday night. Nothing is worse than traveling sick, but finally being home after a week away starts to make up for it.</div>
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<b>23 March 2012</b> <i>volcano</i></div>
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Friday was our last full day in Greece. We took a ferry to see the volcano and swim in the hot springs. The view from the volcano was incredible. The weather was gorgeous. The water was freezing, but two out of three ain't bad.</div>
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<b>22 March 2012</b> <i>Oia</i></div>
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Kelsey, Erika and Yelena, who booked their Greek spring break through Bus2Alps, were in Santorini Thursday and Friday. We met up with them for the day. They had also rented ATVs. Between the nine of us and our five ATVs, we looked like a gang as we rode to Oia for the afternoon. We did some shopping, watched the sunset and ate dinner at a restaurant overlooking the sea.</div>
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<br /></div>Lydiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16657401452953073654noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5304175036627826090.post-57363236857553935372012-03-25T17:16:00.000-04:002013-03-16T10:22:03.699-04:00I spent Saint Patrick's Day in Athens<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I started Saturday with a complementary breakfast of two fresh homemade rolls with jam and a hardboiled egg. I made sure I had some green on for Saint Patrick's Day, and I was ready to go.
We walked up the street to Athens Backpackers (our hostels second location) where we met a tour guide. Although he introduced himself a couple of times, I can't for the life of me remember his name. For €6, he took us on a five-hour tour around the entire city.<br />
Before we left, the 16 of us went in a circle and introduced ourselves. There were people from everywhere from South Africa to Canada to Argentina to France. Our guide tried his hardest to remember our names and repeated them back to us a couple of times. Having a Greek name made mine easy.<br />
And then we were off. We saw everything from the outside, but he told us if we wanted to go inside any of the sites everything's free on Sundays. I made an effort to remember which places I needed to see again. We started at Hadrian's Arch and the Temple of Olympian Zeus (photos of this are below since we could only see it from a distance during the tour).<br />
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We passed the old olympic training grounds and Panathinaiko, which is the stadium where Athens hosted the first modern olympic games. It was built in the late 1800s on top of the ancient olympic stadium. The modern stadium, built for the 2004 olympics, is on the other side of town.<br />
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We walked past Zappeion, the old olympic headquarters, in the National Gardens of Athens. Apparently the doors are usually open, but they weren't Saturday, so we just peered through the windows.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2gOiwFliO26iHpXTGejmM0wo6ZKXLTlvq6A7k9dErpjJzKEJAFnPhl-V_SmgY5xoZRLg3YLLHKpmGoElc16s8ebTuvUgW-YyM_vjsODx1JDJCd_KKTerbJG0iz1Eu8dknfj17D7Hfc9Zm/s1600/DSC_0029.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2gOiwFliO26iHpXTGejmM0wo6ZKXLTlvq6A7k9dErpjJzKEJAFnPhl-V_SmgY5xoZRLg3YLLHKpmGoElc16s8ebTuvUgW-YyM_vjsODx1JDJCd_KKTerbJG0iz1Eu8dknfj17D7Hfc9Zm/s320/DSC_0029.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">inside Zappeion</td></tr>
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As we rounded the corner, Kate picked an orange from one of the trees. Orange trees seem to line almost every street, and I know she's an orange fan based on the bowl of peels she produces seemingly daily. She peeled the fruit and divided it among the six of us. As we each had a slice poised in front of our mouths, we heard our guide say, "now you can take and eat the oranges, but we usually don't."</div>
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We all stopped and shot glances at one another as the entire group turned to look at us.</div>
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"Just don't expect to be impressed by the taste," he continued. "We usually use them to throw at the police during riots."</div>
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We shrugged and nibbled at the edges. It was incredibly sour — much closer to a grapefruit than an orange. My slice joined the peels on the ground. A few people ate them, but no one seemed particularly impressed.</div>
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We kept walking, talking amongst ourselves. We passed a little pond with turtles!<br />
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The National Gardens were really pretty.</div>
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Eventually we reached syntagma square. The first thing we all noticed was this child staring down the pigeons.<br />
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He was dressed in the traditional uniform for parliament guards, which was fitting as we had arrived just in time to see the changing of the guards in front of the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier.<br />
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If the kicking wasn't enough, the pom-poms on their feet made the entire thing seem ridiculous. I know it is a serious ceremony and has historic value, but I — along with most of those around me I may add — couldn't take it seriously. It took all my willpower to hold myself together, especially when I saw this man behind me:</div>
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Next we headed toward Monastiraki. On the way, we passed the only "riot" we saw all weekend. Although I apparently failed to properly inform my dad I was even going to Athens (he thought I was spending all of spring break in Santorini), most parents were very concerned that we were heading to Athens due to the economic situation. The worry was completely unnecessary.<br />
This protest consisted of a banner, one megaphone and four employees of a coffee shop who politely parted when we needed to pass. Our guide said even protestors in major demonstrations are polite and don't bother citizens or tourists. Had there been one, all we would have needed to do was ask to get through.<br />
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We continued onward and quickly visited a Turkish mosque and a small church. We took a break in Monastiraki Square to get lunch. We thought food was incredibly cheap in Greece. James, a british sports journalist on the tour with us, was startled we thought the prices were cheap, but our only point of reference is Florence, which is pretty expensive.<br />
In the square and along the streets throughout the rest of the city were the usual people trying to sell us various knickknacks — many of which are the same I see in Italy. New to us however, was seeing children trying to sell things. I don't think I've ever seen a child try to sell things in Italy. We also saw a large number of children playing the accordion for money. It was really sad.<br />
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After lunch we saw Hadrian's Library and the ruins for several market places. All of the ruins were sandwiched neatly between buildings currently in use.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hadrian's Library</td></tr>
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It reminded me of Rome in that sense. Next up was the Acropolis. Up the hill we went.<br />
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We stopped halfway up our climb for a view of the city. People milled about on the giant rock where our tour guide said he and his girlfriend used to go for "hugs and kisses when we skipped classes."</div>
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The city was so much bigger than any of us had realized.<br />
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We walked farther to see the Acropolis (again from outside) and the Odeon of Herodes Atticus.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Odeon of Herodes Atticus</td></tr>
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As we neared the five-hour point of the tour, my interest and attention started to wane. He was explaining things we couldn't see at all from the bottom of the Acropolis. What I do remember is him picking on James for being british. A lot. I guess Brits get that often. The most memorable part of the end was when a woman snuck up behind us and started urgently speaking to him in Greek. We parted for her to enter our circle, and Caitlin and Bethany protected their purses, confused by what was happening. After a couple of minutes she left, and we asked him what just happened. He waited until he wrapped up the tour and we were walking back to the hostels. </div>
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It turns out the man who had spent the last five hours showing us around the city for €6 was not an official, licensed tour guide. She was. Being a tour guide requires training and a license in Greece because it is a closed profession. So when she saw him telling a group of tourists about the Acropolis, she started to get territorial I guess you could say. He sent her away by saying he was a teacher and we were his students. The teacher part isn't entirely inaccurate. He has three degrees in politics, history and education and has spent a year or two teaching. Another year of school for tour guide training and a further two-three to get the actual license didn't seem practical to him — or to me for that matter.</div>
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He brushed off the entire situation by saying, "most tour guides are just women in their 60s who are grouchy because they're deprived of sex."</div>
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We almost fell down the stairs in shock and didn't even try to contain our laughter. He didn't skip a beat and walked on as if he had just told us something as obvious and simple as "The sky is blue." I thoroughly enjoyed him as a tour guide.</div>
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The six of us started heading back to our hostel. I turned back to see James looking at us. Amy and I decided he clearly wanted to hang out. I turned around and yelled at him.</div>
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"JAMES!"</div>
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"Yeah?"</div>
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"What are you doing?"</div>
"Nothing."<br />
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"Come with us!"</div>
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"I would love to!"</div>
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And that's how we acquired a Brit for the next two days.</div>
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Bethany, Kate and Jess stayed at the hostel to rest while Caitlin, the ever-resilient Amy and I walked around aimlessly with James. He claimed he knew where he was, but I was never convinced. Regardless, we found our way to a cafe and ordered Greek coffee. James warned us it was very bitter, so I ordered mine sweet. It was very different from anything I've ever tasted, but I actually really enjoyed it. We sat and talked for a while, and James even tolerated the "say this in a British accent" game every American plays.</div>
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We walked around some more and headed back to the hostel as the sky started to change to pastel colors in time for James to go watch his rugby match in the sports bar.</div>
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We relaxed for a while before going downstairs for dinner. I ordered the veggie burger again. James came over from the bar and showed us his impression of an American from the south. Hilarious. Bethany and I mentioned that we were going to get banana walnut cake, to which he replied, "ohh bahhnahhnahh wahhlllnut." We repeated that in a british accent sporadically during the rest of our trip.</div>
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After we got our bahnahnah wahlnut cake, we joined James in the bar. He introduced us to Claude, a sports columnist from Oregon. Funny how six communication majors make friends with two journalists. We ran into Simon and Melanie, who were also on our tour that day. They are a French couple traveling through Europe for three months. 25 cities. 19 countries. I'm so jealous, but I feel like I don't have much of a right to say that when I'm studying abroad for four months. They're both in between jobs and figured this was the perfect opportunity to backpack. I hope I get a chance to do that and come back here again!</div>
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After a while, we decided to go find an Irish pub. It was, afterall, Saint Patrick's Day. I went upstairs to get Jess and Amy, who were <i>still</i> getting ready. The two of them joined Caitlin, Melanie, Simon, Claude, James and I for our trek to the pub. Once again, James was in the lead and regardless of his insistance that he knew where we were going, no one believed him. After a few circles, detours and some help from locals, we surprisingly found our way there. And it sucked. A mass of green flashed under strobe lights. The mob of people rippled with the music, which was far too loud and high pitched and not that good. It took less than a minute to get separated. Those of us still together grabbed hands and pushed our way to the bar only to find out none of us wanted the only beer they were serving. So we pushed our way back, scanning the crowd. I eventually found Claude thanks to his height and black knit hat. James was nearby. We stood on the outskirts of the crowd in an awkward lump.</div>
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After a while we gave up. James asked for directions to a better bar, and we headed that way, leaving Melanie and Simon behind. She said they were just going to head home.</div>
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We found a bar where we could just sit and talk over some beers. After a while, James led us back in a similar fashion to how we got there.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCRH_uG2r7nU4Zp8612hdB0lVQyHhcxAiLWeOXER-QRmY5Ans_amB91ixsdIi-aafExvbk21mDC2GUAHC64DDcQ-1q4rCZaUg1L5XvXwKfLA-f-IGBX42VkMek5jaEJADtwVapsMNI_RLU/s1600/IMG_5526.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCRH_uG2r7nU4Zp8612hdB0lVQyHhcxAiLWeOXER-QRmY5Ans_amB91ixsdIi-aafExvbk21mDC2GUAHC64DDcQ-1q4rCZaUg1L5XvXwKfLA-f-IGBX42VkMek5jaEJADtwVapsMNI_RLU/s320/IMG_5526.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Amy. me and Claude</td></tr>
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<br /></div>Lydiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16657401452953073654noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5304175036627826090.post-18570840438115489342012-03-21T18:47:00.000-04:002013-03-16T10:22:03.641-04:00Wednesday's photo of the day<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqFwpvaabbDzyr7yhU9JM3uN4xbrCwjPemOOGRwAOql6AT1Q1D5NeBp8wVgPhY3rQtjaXVvGOaWBcObL-j6T-g9lHqRWN6f6Xfq71BTSgI4h0jZWkjeC1OYc0yaW71vxdjhva17s6SMuLO/s1600/DSC_0803.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqFwpvaabbDzyr7yhU9JM3uN4xbrCwjPemOOGRwAOql6AT1Q1D5NeBp8wVgPhY3rQtjaXVvGOaWBcObL-j6T-g9lHqRWN6f6Xfq71BTSgI4h0jZWkjeC1OYc0yaW71vxdjhva17s6SMuLO/s640/DSC_0803.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<b>21 March 2012</b> <i>Faros, Akrotiri</i></div>
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We rented three ATVs for two days. It's about €15 per person plus gas and more than worth it. We spent the day zooming around the island and ended up at its very tip: the lighthouse (Faros in Greek) at the cape of Akrotiri. Kate, Jess and I spent a good chunk of time climbing out farther and farther on rocks that overlooked the water. We could see the edge of the world and all of Santorini, from tip to tip.</div>
<br /></div>Lydiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16657401452953073654noreply@blogger.com0