[Letters]

Olav, Jamie, and I dressed up in our "1920s" attire. 

Dear Dad- Transformers 3 comes out today. Even though we both know it won't be as good as the first, I'm positive you would have used your Christmas present to go see this in the cheap seats with me. We would have skipped dinner and eaten too much popcorn and come home and whined to mom about our stomachs hurting. I miss you. Dear 1920s-Attire-French-Cuisine Picnic- You were the perfect summer event. Warm breezes skipped off the river as we chowed down on fruit, french bread, brie, and most importantly, sparkling grape juice. Dear Bridesmaids- You are an unlikely movie to change a person's outlook, but somehow you changed mine. (Spoiler Alert) Watching Annie's life fall apart around her and having her just sit on the sidelines watching and not doing anything was so frustrating and eye opening. I look at my life and wonder why my room is a mess, why I never journal, why I haven't played guitar in months, and why I don't even remember what working out entails. I guess I didn't make the connection that sleeping until 10, watching Community on my laptop multiple times a day, and compulsively checking facebook were the reasons I wasn't doing the things I truly wanted to do. I once read in a running magazine "It's your life, own it." It's not exactly my philosophy, but it's a good motivator nonetheless. Here's to change. 


P.S. I think it's interesting that in relationships we tend to blame the other person without actually examining ourselves. If I think to myself "This person never opens up to me." Do I open up to them? "Why is she always so touchy?" Maybe I'm the touchy one, and when I get touchy I lash out. I guess what I'm saying is that the problem one person in a relationship has with another, is probably something that they are also failing to bring to the relationship. It's something I need to look at in my life. 

[Letters]

It has been over a week since I've posted. I have many good excuses if you'd like to hear them. I didn't have pictures on my new computer. I was tired of blogging after my extensive Italy posts. Nothing worth blogging about has happened. These are true, but they are lies. I haven't blogged because I am afraid of the feelings I will stir up inside of myself when I start to feel and start to reach inside myself to pick my own brain. Where would I be if I just ran away from everything I could possibly fear? No, I refuse to run from this, even though it would be so much easier.

Hola Julio!

Dear Dad- Lets face it, life is pretty rough now that you're gone. I'm upset, I'm mourning, I'm rash and confused and only a few souls in my life truly understand what I'm going through. I must remain hopeful though, and know that although I will always miss you, things will get better. Dear Summer- Sometimes you take away the little joys I'm so used to in my everyday life and I struggle to find new ones. I miss walking down the hall in the morning and seeing Kiersten and Vinnie and Gina at their lockers. I miss chatting with Mr. Eastman before first hour and doing Elbs with Jamie at 7:25. I miss laughing at the stupid remarks Breck and Garrett make about their future with Tayloo and their 50-some kids. I miss hiding my coffee from Tellock... scratch that, I don't miss that one bit. I miss seeing Mrs. Klunder and her unending joy despite the fact that she was given the task to teach Calculus to a bunch of Seniors. I miss choir... ALTO DANCE PARTY! I could go on forever obviously, but lets just say choir is too hard to let go of. I miss Marisa forcing me to get lunch with her before Comm Arts and always convincing me we will be on time for class although we never are. I miss Ramponi calling us "Fabulous people" and asking for any "Stories or successes." I miss eating lunch with Sam and Jessica and Ellie and Mara and Trixie. I miss skipping Varsity to go chat with Mr. Eastman about all of the things I can't seem to tell anyone else. I miss seeing Lara and Finn before I go to my locker. I miss Jenna and I fighting over country music in the car and stalking Aamot on our way to Ferber. Life just isn't the same and I can't help but reminisce about the perfect little things. Dear Julius Caesar(aka Julio)- I have a little bit of a crush on you. Your sleek figure, multifunction system, and ease of use make my fingers tingle just thinking about you. Welcome to the family. 

P.S. See above, it came a little early today. 

[Italy 2011: A Reflection]

      [day one] [day two] [day three] [day four] [day five] [day six] [day seven] [day eight] 

You may be wondering where Day 10 went, well we went to Milan and it sucked. It was full of gypsies and pigeons and overpriced gelato. However, I do have some photos to show from the morning in Levanto, as well as our last night together. 

Conor, Connor, and Brady, Danielle and Ellie, the view I woke up to. 

Our wonderful chaperones/guides: Mr. Westmark, Anne Rausch, Mrs. Barton, Mrs. Westmark, Laura, Chito (our second driver), Mr. Aamot, and Genato(not pictured). 

Our last night in Milan consisted of dinner, an interesting song from the above, a two hour singing session outside of the hotel, and a bathtub party with Mara, Ellie, and Danielle. It was the perfect way to end the trip. 

As the title mentioned, this is a recap of the trip. I have already said quite a bit of what went on, so instead of retelling all of that, I am going to make a list of the 10 differences betweenItaly and America. As always, this list is in no particular order and in varying levels of seriousness. 

10. The food. A three course meal consists of pasta, meat, and dessert. Gelato rocks way harder than ice cream. 

9. Driving. A minivan or SUV is unheard of. A four door sedan is rare in the cities. These people learn to get around in tiny cars, motorcycles, scooters, or no cars. Also, speeding on the highway isn't really an issue. 

8. Architectural history. Every building over there is about a bajillion years older than any building we have here, even on the east coast. 

7. Gypsies, street vendors, and tourists. Save for NYC, we just flat out don't have these. 

6. Public transportation. It exists. And people use it. 

5. Shops. Everywhere was a quaint downtown it seemed. There were no such things as stores and I think if an Italian saw a Wal-Mart they would literally keel over and die. 

4. TOILETS. Did you know that it is against the law in Italy for a toilet to have a freaking seat? Also, public restrooms don't exist, and if they do they cost money or they are a hole in the ground. Bring your own toilet paper because there is no telling if the bathroom will have some. 

3. The language. Well obviously they speak Italian, but what surprised me most is that almost all of them were at least bilingual. I only encountered a handful of Italians who didn't speak english. 

2. The buildings. No sky scrapers or brick houses with white picket fences. The buildings all pretty much look the same, but they are very colorful and beautiful. 

1. Appreciation of art and beauty. It is wrong to say that we don't have art and beauty in the states, but I don't think we put it in high regard like they do in Italy. We really should. 

All in all, my trip to Italy was amazing, the experience of a lifetime. I am so blessed to have had this opportunity. 

[Italy Day Eight: Levanto & Cinque Terre]

[day one] [day two] [day three] [day four] [day five] [day six] [day seven] [reflection]

Mara, Maggie, and Gina swimming in Manarola, the beautiful town of Riomaggiore, Sarah, Ellie, Vinnie, Danielle, Maggie, and Jackie in Vernazza, my seafood lunch, Via dell'Amore, the post-concert picture. 

Today is the most anticipated day of the trip, free time to explore the five lands of the coast,Cinque Terre, as well as our final concert. The morning is rushed because we get no wakeup call, but the brekkie I eat is the best I've had. Fresh fruit, yogurt and granola, a crossaint, and café. I put on my swimsuit under my dress and pack for the day. 

We take a train out to the furthest city(map), Riomaggiore,  and we have the day at leisure. Danielle, Ellie, and I explore the city, my legs and lungs ache from climbing countless stairs. We find a place to climb down on the rocks and sit by the sea. We watch the white foam rush in and around the rocks below and I try to capture the spray of water on film.

 We take the Via dell'Amore to the next town, Manarola. It is the most beautiful scene I have witnessed. Tourists litter the path and we stop to take pictures for couples and to scrutinize the locks and scribbled messages. We find a small swimming area and our group. Everyone goes swimming in the salty blue water, the icy cold is refreshing to our skin, but the salt makes me thirsty. I jump off the cliffs and enjoy the freedom and the water swelling around me. 

Danielle, Ellie, and I dry off and head to get lunch. I want seafood. It is the one thing I have left to do on this trip, the one thing my dad insisted I try. I get a delicioius meal of mussels and linguine and the waiters are friendly. We finally get bread and olive oil, one of the first times this trip. We meet up with the choir again and take the train to another town,Vernazza. There is a small beach with large rocks and we lay out like turtles sunning and I take photos. 

The last train is coming soon, so we head back to the station and decide to go all the way back to Levanto. In Levanto we go to the beach and I finally experience the pulling and smashing waves that toss my body about. I let the waves pull me out to deeper water and think to myself, this, is bliss. The salt soon choes my throat and I let the waves push me out of the water and onto shore. I finish my water and lay on the beach, chatting with Nancy and eating cherries, letting the sun dry my skin. 

Exhausted, salty, and sunned, we head back to the hotel to shower. My hair is lightened and wavy and my face and shoulders are sprinkled with new freckles. I take a warm shower and reorganize my suitcase. It is again time for dinner and I am able to make do with the three hunks of cheese and salad we are given. 

It is time for our last concert. We walk up a hill to the church and meet Aldo, a cute old man who Mr. Aamot and his father have sang for many times. He is also the composer of "La Sera", our favorite song of the trip. Sarah, Tyler, Faith and I wait in a creepy, dingy storage room to use the one bathroom. There is a bat skeleton on a shelf. Filled with adrenaline, we make dumb jokes and try not to laugh because we have to go to the bathroom so badly. 

After finding our places, we warm up in the small piazza, the men and women separated and everyone is nearly silent, both anxious and wistful about what we are about to do. The girls sing "There Is More Love" and "Every Night". The men take a picture of everyone doing "bow me." It is time to begin the end. It is difficult to hold the tears back the entire concert, but there is a small girl of about two who toddles up and watches us enraptured. She claps, shushes her parents, and moves her feet with the beat. She reminds us of joy and happiness and allows us to keep singing. 

The end of the concert is hard. Sadness is swelling through me, at the loss of my father, the end of this trip, and the end of the most wonderful part of my life thus far-choir. It is not just the people, it is the music, the emotion, the deeper connection. I am also exuberant, I feel blessed and joyful knowing that I got to be part of this for so long. I let the tears stream down my face during "The Road Home" and the choir heads to the piazza outside the church and we sob into each other's arms. 

The audience continues to clap and Aamot calls out "That means encore. Lets go!" We sing "From This House" with more power than we'd ended the concert initially. We go back outside to the steps and tears flow ceaselessly as I hug the friends I've gotten so close to over the years. We go inside for a group picture, our eyes red and puffy. After struggling to take a decent picture, Aldo leads us to a small reception room near our hotel where the townspeople have a reception for us. I cry a little at the gesture.

It is raining and the women go out to the piazza and dance every dance we know. We say goodbye to Aldo, and then we have 45 minutes until bed check. Ellie, Danielle, and I go to the beach where Mara and some others are taking a late swim. We are full of energy and a little antsy to do something out of the ordinary our last night here. Ellie and I sneak down to the beach and steal Mara's dress and shirt. They see us and call out and we run. We go to Ellie and Mara's hotel room and see other girls in our group and tell them the story. 

Danielle and I head back to our hotel, talking to Andrew and Connor about the nights events. When we get back to the room, I rinse off my sandy feet, hang up my wet clothes, and crawl into bed. I drift into unconscious as the clock shows that the greatest day of my life is now over. 

[Italy Day Seven: Pisa & Levanto]

[day one] [day two] [day three] [day four] [day five] [day six] [day eight] [reflection]

Riding the McDonald's Train, Anna, Maddie, and I in the piazza, choir women in Pisa, me "holding up" the leaning tower, Jackie, Ruthie, and Meg at lunch, singing "Kyrie" in the baptistry. 

I wake up to the sound of laughter. Danielle is chuckling at my choice of an alarm clock. Dog Days Are Over by Florence + The Machine, what else would it be? Danielle gets up to shower and I fall back asleep. She takes a digger stepping into the shower and like the good roommate I am, I roll over and go back to sleep. I have American coffee and granola for breakfast and finally I am full and well rested. I attempt to jam all of my purchases into my luggage and we then bus to Pisa. 
We take a McDonald's train from the parking lot into the main square and take a tour of thePiazza dei Miracoli, including the duomo, the baptistry, and the outside of the leaning tower. We get special permission to sing in the baptistry and our voices ring for ages in the space. We experiment with a quick warm up and then sing "Kyrie"(this is the actual video of us singing in the space). Lunch is a delicious pizza, cut into squares, and eaten with a new crowd, Jackie, Meg, and Ruthie. 

The coffee tray in our hotel room, a child playing on the beach, Danielle, Ellie, Mara, and I climbing rocks, boats on the shore, balcony view of Levanto, an old man fishing. 

After Pisa, we drive to Levanto and I take a nap. Danielle and I head up to our hotel room, which is the most beautiful room I've stayed in. The walls are painted peach and pink, and covered in intricate details and paintings. The chandelier hangs over an immense royal-red bed, but the room is illuminated by the tall white windows that are framed by lace curtains. We grab our Minoltas and take pictures in our room and the rooms around us. 
We take a short walk to the beach, where I explore and take many pictures of children playing in the sand, the white-blue waves, and the old boats on the shore. This is the most beautiful place I've been and I am so happy. Danielle, Ellie, Mara, and I climb rocks by the boat house and enjoy the view. It is time for dinner and I am dreading the anxious feeling of not having a dinner that will nourish me. After dinner we walk to a park and head to bed, excited for the day ahead on this beautiful coast. 

[Italy Day Six: Florence]

[day one] [day two] [day three] [day four] [day five] [day seven] [day eight] [reflection]

The group on the Arno River, the baptistery of the Santa Maria del Fiore, my new journal, old bridge in Florence, my new hat and backpack.

I wake up in a fog of sleepiness today. I pull on my clothes after my shower and walk down for "brekkie" as Danielle calls it. I am too tired to lift my coffee to my lips. I sleep on the bus on the way into town and force my eyes open as we start the tour of the city. 
We see Michelangelo's David. It is magnificent seeing it in real life. It is huge, smooth, detailed, perfect. We continue our walking tour of Florence with our guide Ricardo, whom we called Mustachio. We are all antsy as we pass shop after shop filled with clothing and leather. We turn off our radios that Ricardo uses to give the tour and whine about how tired/bored/angsty we are. Finally we are released. 
Danielle and I go off together, we go shopping, barter, and eat paninis. We later meet up with Makiah, Maggie, Mara, Ellie, and Jacob at the Uffizi Gallery. I see Botticelli's Primavera andThe Birth of Venus.  It is so exciting for Mara and I, having given our presentation on him. I cannot believe I am seeing the paintings he physically worked on. 
After exploring the Uffizi, Mara, Danielle, and I take off to go leather shopping. My great finds of the day are a straw fedora, a leather journal, and a leather backpack. I also bought quite a few souvenirs for people back home. 
I am exhausted, my legs and feet ache, and I have to muster up the energy to perform. We are singing at the Santa Maria de Ricci. We perform another beautiful concert, and the audience is one of the most receptive I've sung to. 
After the concert we walk to dinner. I sit with Jackie, Nancy, Danielle, Jessica, Ellie, and Jenna. "We had a fun dinner, didn't we." reminisces Jackie the next day. We talk and laugh and throw a wrapper back and forth between our table and Connor's plate/head/glass. I get another caprese salad, which I am sick of at this point, so I trade Nancy for her potatos with rosemary. Danielle and I hide our faces in the red curtain and send Aamot subliminal messages. "Craig we are tired, please do not make us go out tonight!" It works. 
We head back to our bus, everyone sporting their new leather bags and jackets. Maddie and I make up a chant "Look at us, in our pretty little outfits. Walking like, pretty little girls" in call/echo form. Gina is impressed. 
We get back to the hotel and I hang out in Choi and Anna Westmark's room, talking. By bed check I am in my room, alarm set, pajamas on, ready to sink into the hard bed with the soft covers. I will have no trouble falling asleep tonight. 

[Italy Day Five: Assisi & Florence]

[day one] [day two] [day three] [day four] [day six] [day seven] [day eight] [reflection]

Beautiful landscape below Assisi, Danielle and I laughing and soaked from the rain, a close up of Assisi, Jackie, Ellie, and Danielle after our delicious lunch, Mara and I in Florence, Mara and Makiah on the carousel. 

Today we travel for most of the day. It is a three hour bus ride from Rome to Assisi, the birthplace of St. Francis. Assisi is considered a place where "time stood still", a town that has not caught up to modern times. The village on a hill gives us an incredible view, and despite the rain we all stop and take a few photos of the beautiful landscape below. 
We head up to the basilica, less majestic than previous basilicas, but much more elegant than St. Francis would have appreciated. 
Ellie, Danielle and I find another art studio and a cave-like restaurant. Jackie joins us for the best meal of the trip. I have spinach and ricotta ravioli. It rains and Ellie and I share an umbrella, fighting, laughing, each of us getting half soaked. The choir meets in the church and soon "Sanctus" rings through the church. 
We have another three hour bus ride to reach Florence. After we get checked in to our hotel, we call out of our screenless windows to each other across the courtyard. We head downstairs for dinner and Rome Awards. 
Mr. Aamot takes us out for a night on the town. We hunt for the cast of Jersey Shore, follow the liquor bottle, take pictures of the lit up city on a bridge, yearn for the shopping we'll do the next day, and of course, eat gelato. We ride a twirling carousel, light up gold in the night. We sing "La Sera" (this video is not our best version, but it's probably the most accurate of how we sounded that night) and have energy pouring from our bodies. We end up in the piazza near the basilica that looks like it is made of paper and twirl Danielle in our arms. We ask Vinnie to try and he does, her legs lift off and become parallel to the ground. 
We take the city bus back to the hotel and collapse into sleep around 1 am, exhausted from the long day, and anxiously awaiting tomorrow.

[Italy Day Four: Rome]

[day one] [day two] [day three] [day five] [day six] [day seven] [day eight] [reflection]

Danielle in the Piazza Navona, Minolta in hand, Sarah and I dancing outside of Santa Maria Sopra Minerva, the blue-eyed artist, our concert and the unbelievably blue ceiling, singing outside of the Pantheon at night. 

Today is another day in Roma! I shower for the first time with my own possessions. The shower is cold at the end as I rinse out the conditioner in my hair. After a delicious breakfast (café au lait, a peach, a croissant, nutella & toast, and a berry yogurt), we head to tour theVatican museums, St. Peter's, and the Sistine Chapel. Everything is incredibly beautiful.Michaelangelo's paintings in the Sistine Chapel are astounding. 
After the tours we have lunch, strawberries from a local market and spaghetti and vegetables split between Ellie, Danielle, and I. Mr. Aamot walks by and we chat and he takes a picture of us. We reconnect with the group and take the bus to the church we will be performing at tonight. I am touchy and crabby, but I force myself to be happy despite the annoyances around me. I dance around the piazza with Sarah and take pictures of Ryan's freckles. 
We head into the basilica- Santa Maria Sopra Minerva. It is the only Gothic church in Rome. The architecture is beautiful and the blue paint on the ceiling is breathtaking. It smells like my cottage, of wood, well water, and candles. We walk into a darkly lit rectangular room. The walls are lined with dark wooden cupboards where we set our bags. We rest on the single step and lean our backs on the cupboards, quickly dashing one by one to the bathrooms. Priests dressed in white robes pass through the iron gate that serves as an entrance into the room. We soon head out of the church and a man holds open the door for us, asking for money in return. I see an American bill in his basket, worth less than the money it would take to exchange it. 
We walk to the Pantheon, its majestic columns serving as an entrance to a hollow dome. There is a large hole in the top of the dome and holes in the floor to drain rainwater. I am grateful for the opportunity to see the Pantheon, but after days of impressive architecture I see nothing exceptional. 
We walk to the Piazza Navona, where Ellie, Danielle, and I get gelato. I get café and cioccolato like always. We walk around the streets and take photos and look in small shops. We find an art studio that is small with white walls and a cream colored couch with red pillows. The paintings are vibrant and textured, many of them splattered with paint. A kindly old man with bright blue eyes and a genuine smile tells us he is the artist and has been painting all his life. He has us feel the paintings and the texture of the art. He tells us "You feel the paint, you feel the beauty." Ellie buys a small red painting with a woman dancing on it.
We continue walking and find an alley with a gelato shop and many children, their faces and hands sticky from the messy treat. We take more photos with Sarah, Jackie, and Nancy and then head on our way. We go into a bakery where the man speaks no English and we get a pastry without knowing what it is filled with. We stumble upon three incredible thrift stores and we have just enough time to walk into one. It smells of leather and age. The walls and floors are covered in leather purses and boots and clothing from the last few decades.
We are short on time so we head back to the Piazza. Tears spring to my eyes as I finally realize that we are in Italy, walking the same streets my father walked so many years ago, admiring the same beauty that was there when he was. I see beautiful paintings and photographs being sold and think of his appreciation of art and his affinity for photography.
It is time for  our concert. We rehearse and Aamot gives a pre-concert speech. He says that he can tell that some of us are starting to connect to the music and really feel it. I sense he is talking to me. I don't think he knows exactly what I'm thinking or feeling, but I'm starting to think that he can sense the connections I'm making to the music. We go into the piazza near the pantheon and sing "Shoshaloza" to bring in a crowd.
We sing our set and everything rings in the space. We are hitting our notes and our cues, but more importantly I am locked in. I feel the music soaring through my body, my soul churning out joy and sorrow without ceasing. I feel something I've never felt while on stage. It is pure, it is indescribable, it is a perfect release and connection to the music. I smile, I move, I cry, I listen, I give. We end with "Road Home." I am behind a pillar so I can see no one, only listen. I close my eyes and let the music come. With my dad gone forever, my brother and sister away creating their own lives, and my mom dealing with her own sorrow, I am now enveloped with the family I've created for my teenage self. Some of these people I've know all my life, some for two years. I have laughed and cried and sung with them all. The hands I am holding and the voices joining with mine to echo through the church and reverberate straight into people's hearts are the voices of my family, of the ones I love.
After the concert we head back into the piazza and hug and congratulate one another. We chat with the audience, the language barrier not preventing us from comprehending the thanks these people are giving us. After a while, the choir heads to the fountain near the Pantheon, all of us with the beauty of the night clinging to our hearts. We sit around the fountain and chat, the cool air carrying our excited voices. I look up and see the Pantheon, majestic and lit up against the night sky. One last tear falls as I smile and relax, completely at peace.
The men have a men sing and the women retaliate with a rough rendition of "Ubi Caritas." We all sing "La Sera" and draw a crowd as big as the audience we had early that night. We sway and sing and smile.
The men start "South Australia" and the women join in, laughing and stomping and whooping. We head to our bus, Connor gives Mara and I high fives and says we belong in the men sing and we're going to be the extra baritones for the rest of the trip. He compliments us on "Ubi Caritas" and says we should sing "Desert Rose" sometime. I collapse in my bed, grateful for the blessings of the day, for the growth of my friendships, understanding, and soul. 

[Italy Day Three: Rome]

             [day one] [day two] [day four] [day five] [day six] [day seven] [day eight] [reflection]

 The Colosseum, me, Danielle, and Jackie at the Monument of Italy, me and Danielle holding our delicious sandwiches, the choir in St. Peters after Mass. 

Today we take a tour of historical Rome. This includes the Colosseum and the Roman Forum as well as the Monument to Victor Emmanuel II. We have amazing sandwiches made with grilled eggplant, zucchini  cheese, and "rocket salad"(arugula). I have my first bargaining experience and come away with three scarves. 
After a morning in the city, we head back to our hotel to try and muster up matching clothes for us to wear to the Vatican for our performance. It is difficult because our luggage is missing. We go to St. Peter's and have the amazing opportunity to sing during mass. Not many people at the mass, but it is a wonderful experience singing in the basilica. I miss my father who has seen this beauty and has walked these streets. I let the tears fall silently as we sing and as we leave St. Peter's. 
We walk to dinner at a local restaurant and sing "La Sera" on the way, Ryan stopping to bring a smile to an Italian woman's face, handing her a flower as the rest of us skip by. 
Mara and I sit at the guy's table, it is nice just listening and talking to a different group of people. We talk like men, eat like men, and even use the men's bathroom(okay, this was an accident), and we even do "bow me" after getting unofficially inducted by Ryan. 
After dinner we go back to the hotel and have a rehearsal and talk about the day. I cry again when we talk of the beauty and power of St. Peter's. Before bed check, a group of us ventures out onto the roof. The elevated view of this incredible city is breathtaking. 
Soon, we head back to our room for much needed sleep. I have clean clothes and finally my own toothbrush because our luggage came this evening. I am excited for breakfast in the morning with café and croissants. 

[Italy Day Two: Traveling and Rome]

          [day one] [day three] [day four] [day five] [day six] [day seven] [day eight] [reflection]

Being soaked to the bone, Aamot conducting us on the spanish steps, throwing my coin into the Trevi Fountain, Ruthie & her luggage, four wonderful men at the Trevi.

I am in Paris! I am sleepy, so I pretend to speak French. I gain confidence when correctly translating an ad about energy, so at the passport counter I tell the man "merci beaucoup" in my best French accent. Mara tells me later that I insult him by not following with "Monsieur." 
In my sleepy, half-dream state, everything is funny. Mara teaches Danielle French phrases, which Danielle says while wearing her straw hat with the black ribbon. She says them in a soft, high-pitched voice and we all laugh. Later, we discuss the phrase "universal." Is it cocky to presume that we can control the whole universe with our universal remotes? This won't be funny a week from now, but in our sleep-deprived state we all laugh until tears come to our eyes. 
I am on the plane now, sitting near a church group made of of spirited southern men and women. The woman next to me calls me "baby." They pass around spray bottles of holy water and everyone is decorated with religious tokens, pins, and necklaces. They are a lively group, and help to ease some of the stress and crabbiness we all feel setting in from the long flight. 
I am ready to be in Italy, but I am taking everything in as I go, the whale-belly airport in Paris, the differences in the houses and buildings I saw when flying, and the attitudes and dispositions of those around me. 
I am ready to take off and face this incredible journey ahead of me. 


That night: What a crazy day! We can not stop laughing at how unfortunate it is. All of our luggage is lost except Choi's, Ruthie's, and Paul's. We wait in the airport for three hours. We have been traveling for 20, and most of us have gotten less than three hours of sleep. EVERYTHING is funny to me. When we step outside of the airport in Rome it is raining, perfect. We get on the tour bus and head into the city. 
We go to the Trevi Fountain, explore a bit on our own, get our first gelatos, get soaked to the bone, and finally go to the Spanish Steps where we sing and a crowd gathers. We finally go back to the hotel, shivering, most of us in the only clothes we have, save for the one-size-fits-all white cotton tees the airline gives us. 
When we go down to dinner we look like hobos, dressed in large white tees, scarfing down the only sustenance in sight- bread and water. The meal, our first real meal since Friday night is pasta, french fries(seriously, what could be worse), and of course, and ice cream cup(like the ones we got in 1st grade) for dessert. 
By the end of dinner we are all exhausted and a bit disappointed in our first day in this amazing country. Mr. Aamot has us rehearse so we are prepared to sing in St. Peters tomorrow. Finally it is time for bed. 
Although it may sound like a lot of whining, this perfectly horrible day was one of the most adventurous, hilarious, and incredible days I've had in a long time, and the optimism of those around me made all the difference.  

[Italy Day One: Traveling]

[day two] [day three] [day four] [day five] [day six] [day seven] [day eight] [reflection]

The group, a photo taken by danielle in the airpot of her sunhat & shoes, the four of us before the trip. 

I am in the Chicago airport. I have boarded my plane and already strange languages fill the cabin, their chatter dances in one ear and right out the other. Not one word is sticking. Part of me regrets not being fluent in another language, but another part of me knows that it is illogical for me to know every language being spoken on this plane. 
I see a french family, one of many as this flight is for Paris. The little boy has big brown eyes and beautiful long lashes. The parents look young, but weary. I said hello to the girl next to me, whom I do not know. She looks younger than me, maybe 15. She did not respond immediately to my greeting and I wonder if she speaks English. I feel ignorant for assuming she must. 
I am separated from my group; they are all in the back of the plane. I am grateful that this will give me the chance to sleep, but in all of the excitement I am worried that I will miss out on whatever is going on back there. Part of me is glad to have a break from the group; I know it is something that won't happen often during the trip. 
There is a young baby crying near me and two older Americans are complaining. I smile at this. As I look out the window I am taken aback when I remember I am still in America. I'm in Chicago, a city I've been to dozens of times. It has never felt like this. The diversity, the foreign speech, the anxiety and adrenalin coursing through my veins.
The plane has now taken off. I am near the window, but over a wing, so it is hard to see anything. I am sleepy. I am just about ready to grab some dramamine and my ipod and conk out for awhile. It is only 5:40 PM. 

[A Year in Review: Senior Year]

It has been quite some time since I've blogged due to my recent trip to Italy. Before I begin my long compilation of Italy posts(there will be about 9), I wanted to recap on everything that happened at the end of my Senior year, before I left for Italy. 

These are the roots of a very small bouquet of flowers I picked up at Jamie's cottage over Memorial day weekend. Jamie, Ellie, Danielle, and I spent the weekend there, as I do every year, and it was a perfect glimpse of summer. We ate delicious food, and even managed to make ourselves full dinners, using the stove and everything. We took photos, layed out on the roof, went for walks, and sat in front of campfires. It was wonderful spending time with friends and just being able to relax. 

These are the thank you notes I made for my teachers. I have pretty thoroughly expressed already how grateful I am to have such supportive teachers, but I feel I can't reiterate it enough.  It was so hard to say goodbye and know that it was the last time I'd see these wonderful people until I visit them this fall or winter. I talked to Mr. Eastman before graduation, Mr. Ramponi afterwards during pictures, and Mrs. Klunder for a substantial amount of time at the after party. I'm going to miss these three more than I will miss some of my friends. On a similar note, we had a going away party for Mr. Aamot on Monday. We had to write in a book for him and this is pretty much the gist of what I wrote. 

Mr. Aamot- You have taught me so much about music and about life these past three years. You showed me how to go deeper without holding back, make connections, and look out for the needs of others. You have also taught me a lot musically. I grew from a timid sophmore into a confident senior who has no trouble singing "My Soul's Been Anchored" on an airplane when no one around her is singing. Thank you and good luck

I thought it would be hard to write a thank you to him because of all of the times I've found it hard to tollerate him. What I wrote though, was completely honest and true. Even if he isn't the most loveable person, he has taught me a lot. I was thinking when I left how wierd it was that this was probably the last time I'd see him as he is going to school in Texas next year. Then again, I saw him yesterday driving around with his girlfriend, so that might be the actual last time. 

This picture is on the last day of school, signing yearbooks. I can't remember why this picture was taken, only that I thought it was too precious not to capture. And I promised them that I would put it on my blog. This picture to me represents the beauty of friendships, and the relationships we've made over these past years together. Even if people haven't talked for a few months or years, during graduation everyone comes together. Some may think this is just putting on a front and call it all a lie, but I see it as putting our differences behind us, and remembering all of the good times we've had together. The time when Tommy came late into Health class, Mr. Hacker talking about healthy eating, Tommy stuffing his face with french fries. Suffering through 6 am lifeguarding class with Chloe, Emily, and Alex. The bond that anyone who took Mr. Davis's AP Bio class shares, a basic awe to have made it out alive. The way that anyone, anywhere can recognize Chelsea's laugh. We remember these things, maybe not specific instances, but we know somehow that we are tied to the people around us, and that connection tightens during the end of the year. This isn't exactly the case with Andrew and Sam, they are good friends, and they are my good friends. I have been friends with Andrew since Freshman year Civics, we used to talk all the time about relationships, homework, and there was even a period of time when I picked out what he should wear the next day. We aren't as close as we used to be, but choir has kept us together, and we talked quite a bit on the Italy trip. Sam and I have a deep bond because of our similar hair color. She is such a genuine, sweet girl and I am so happy to have her smile, laugh, and baking in my life. My favorite times with her have probably been going to Spring Awakening, homecoming and homecoming sleepovers, and of course choir. I dearly love my redheaded Sam. There are some friendships that have came and went, and others that have stuck and are truly rooted in our souls, but we will always have memories with the people we went to high school with, and we will always have some ties with them. 

Graduation. A whirlwind of activity, anxiety, and emotion. But I am happy. Extremely happy. Exuberant. I know so well that if it weren't for these three wonderful people and my father I would have never made it this far. My father has given me wisdom, advice, and has always let me know that he expects a lot from me, but it's okay if I mess up. My mother has given me encouragement, late night hot chocolate, and listened to me cry when I was sure I was going to fail. My brother has given me confidence in my intelligence, and a standard for my sister and me to live up to. He has also given me gobs of advice from his own experiences, hours of calc help, and gave my college essay a major face lift. My sister has given me motivation to work hard as she is one of the hardest workers I know, almost never backing down from a challenge. She reminds me that school isn't everything, shows me to be grateful for my teachers and future professors, and has always been a great encouragement, texting me during finals or emailing me when I need a break from studying to read a blog about psycho dogs. I love my family so much and I am so thankful for the influence they've had in my life and education. 

Italy. This is where I leave off, until the much awaited journal entries are copied onto this screen as narratives, with the helpful aid of photos. This was the most incredible journey of my life and I cannot wait to share it.

*This post was originally written on June 14, but as I wanted my Italy posts to be dated correctly, I changed the date to June 2, when I actually should have written.