another beautiful day in rome

short post tonight, mi dispiace! Caro and I have been wandering around the city - here are some beautiful and interesting things we've stumbled across.

a view from the upper floor of my school

attention universe, I've done it. I have found the perfect summer nail polish. 

barracuda, SALLY HANSEN.

is this real life?

I love love love fulfilled stereotypes - this guy was playing an accordion on the streets of Rome - seriously? iloveit.

glad to see that your token inspirational grafiti is transnational.

this little alleyway fascinated me. Rome is so bright and sunny, hues like yellow and rusty orange dominate the color scheme, and the sunlight reflects off the bright white marble that is, um, EVERYWHERE. but then there's this tucked away street that's too narrow for the light to infiltrate. I thought it was beautiful. 

cat. want. bird.

Trevi Fountain - I love the exposure in this shot - it appears as though the stone is glowing. 

ps. Antonietta told me yesterday that I looked like Anita Ekberg, the blonde actress in La Dolce Vita - seriously, I LOVE MY HOST WOMAN. 

a famous scene in front of the Trevi Fountain from La Dolce Vita. watch it. its awesome. 

some of the group.

these PHENOM gold disk earrings that I bought - I was having an Esmeralda moment. 

annd what I wore today. 

shoes, PRADA. dress, MARC BY MARC JACOBS. scarf, ANTHROPOLOGIE. sunnies, GAP.

photo credit: Caro - thanks babe

La Prima Cosa Bella...

...is one of my favorite Italian films. It's fairly recent, and I recommend it to everyone. I realize I sound like one of those hipster snobs telling everyone that I watch foreign films with [gasp] subtitles, it was a movie I had to watch for class. and it is really really good! I balled my eyes out.


Here is the theme song (which is PHENOM - you may or may not have heard me sing this..) with some snippets from the film - you can maybe kind of not really get the plot. I couldn't find the actual trailer with English subtitles - mi dispiace. 

ps. it gets good around 1 min 25


The story centers around an Italian mother and her two children. Her mama-bear devotion to her kids is typical of the Italian family dynamic. Accordingly, I have found this to be true with my host family, which is actually just one woman. So... host woman. 


 My dear Italian mama, Antonietta, is a sweet, bubbly nonna (grandmother) who cannot be taller than 5 ft. Seriously, 6 flags is out of the question. Her first words to me were Che alta! Che alta! (How tall! How tall!).


She speaks very little English, and by very little, I mean none. My new favorite phrase is Penso che io capisco... Spero che io capisco! (I think I understand... I hope I understand!). She always responds with the same sweet, apologetic smile. Then she either tries to mime or we just move right along to the next subject.


And despite being around 70 years old, Antonietta is super hip. For example, she has a Facebook. We are now friends. This is actually very interesting, not only because of her generation but also because internet is uncommon in Italian households. Maybe half of my class of 30 students has internet access in their house. Anyways, Antonietta's profile picture is from her twenties - she says that she hopes that friends from her youth will recognize her and they can reconnect - I. am. melting. 


Also, this morning, she made a joke about Lady Gaga. Need I say more?


When she picked me up on Tuesday, she brought her daughter, Syliva. Sylvia speaks some English which was PRIME because at this point, as regular readers will remember, I had FORGOTTEN ALL THE ITALIAN I HAD EVER KNOWN. When I asked Sylvia where she had learned such good English, she answered that she is a doppiatrice. In English other words, she dubs over American films. For instance, she casually mentioned that she is the Italian voice for Meg Ryan in When Harry Met Sally. 


Im sorry, WHAT? COME SI DICE "THAT IS SO COOL!"?


it gets better.


Sylvia's daughter, Antonietta's grandaughter (if anymore relatives pop up, Ill include a family tree), is also a doppiatrice. And she is the future Italian voice of.... wait for it.....


HANNAH MONTANA.


Now I'm not the biggest fan of Hannah Montana (pink zebra stripes and tweenage popstars dont really do it for me), but for this, I'll make an exception. Hopefully now, I have convinced you all that my family is way way dope.


and then they took me for gelato. Is it too early to say I love you? too much?


Anyways, more about Antonietta, since its just the two of us in the apartment. 


She gets up every morning to make me breakfast. The first day, she pulled out the HUNK of BREAD about the size of a tree trunk from under a dish towel - are we on a farm? - and cut me a few slices. She then proceeded to slather on butter and honey (which appeared to have originated from a legit churn and beehive respectively). Clearly I ate it all, including the whole (HORROR) milk she heated up for me. Warm milk in the morning. w e i r d. but whatever, I am powerless against this tiny woman. If she gave me warm river water in the morning, I'd most likely pound it and ask for seconds. 


She also picked a flower out of her terrace garden and put it next to my plate. Is it still too early to say I love you?


Speaking of gardens, she grows all of her own herbs on her terrace.


Excuse me? Antonietta, you are too cool.


After she lovingly pointed out and named each one for me, I told her I love to cook and want to learn how to make some Italian dishes (I mean, I think that's what I said... I hope that's what I said....) With a twinkle in her eye, she said that she, too loved to cook and would teach me.


HOLY MOSES allofmywildestdreamshavecometrue. 


I would have cried if I knew enough Italian to explain that I was a cryer. 


We have plans to make ravioli with spinach and ricotta together next week. Be jealous of my Italian nonna. 


Last night at dinner she made this potato cake thing with prociutto and mozzarella in the center. I die. Then she took out this bowl full of water.... odd? NO AMAZING. For this bowl of water is not just a bowl of water. It is the resting place of the most delicious, fresh, succulent chunk of mozzarella I have ever put in my mouth. Vespaio (hoity Italian restaurant in Austin that constantly lauds their "real" mozzarella), EAT YOUR HEART OUT.


Here are some pictures of my room, Antonietta, and what she fed me for dinner tonight. 

my room - I love the red accents - so swedish famrhouse chic - Kirsten the American Girl doll anyone? anyone?

my bed. my feet hang off the edge. whatever.

a room with a view - if anyone gets that movie reference, Im seriously impressed and I'll rbing you back some gelato. No I won't because it will melt, but I'll eat some for you, deal?

Part of Antonietta's garden.

Antonietta and her little stove

la cena

I LOVE THIS WOMAN! 

oh my ever loving goodness, Antonietta HANDMADE this ravioli this afternoon. 

I feel the need to repeat....

oh my ever loving goodness, Antonietta HANDMADE this ravioli this afternoon.

I digress.

first real day!

Ciao tutto! 

This is a short post because I already have homework, but I wanted to share a few pictures that I took today!

Today before class, we met at Piazza Trilusa, across the street from a bridge called Ponte Sisto. This is a view from that bridge - che bella!

Carolina and her Italian mama, Senora Crestini. She was so sweet to us! Caro and I live near each other, so she walked us both to the Piazza to make sure we didnt get lost.

Another view from Ponte Sisto.

I love these colors - pale pale pink, cream, and a muted brown. 

the drinking water in Rome is fantastic and so clean! There are these fountains everywhere and its totally kosher to just fill up your water bottle. 

a) I am a creep/stalker

b) I love what this guy is wearing! So casual, yet so put together.

this building reminded me of home - hook 'em!

outdoor flower market - bellissimi fiori

Caleb W., this one's for you!

annnd what I wore today.

Kind of boring but I love love LOVE this dress (see paragraph on color in first post). I snagged this neon gem at Neimans Last Call for under $30! Combined with my favorite jacket, a putty colored anorak from the glory days as a personal shopper at J.Crew, this outfit's a keeper.

dress, THEORY. jacket, J.CREW. handbag, JOIE.

also....

guess what savory blast from the past I stumbled upon the other day - ohh yeah. the original passport photo, complete with the trifecta of preteen angst: braces, acne, and that dazed, ihavntfiguredoutlifeyet look (you know what I mean).

so don't ever say I never gave you anything.

so… what day is it?

Fourteen hours after departing from my beloved ATX, the wheels of our 767 hit Italian asphalt with a satisfying thud. I subsequently patted myself on the back for deftly avoiding the following fiascoes:

• airplane crash and/or drowning in the Atlantic (hey I never said these were logical.)
• ending up in the wrong city al la Home Alone II
• spilling any colorful liquid on my clothing
• losing my luggage
• tears of exhaustion
• major cultural fumbles
• deportation

I promptly attributed my successful flight sanz any of these misfortunes to my superior international travel savvy and set off to find my group. Navigating through the swarm of fellow travelers toting two rather cumbersome suitcases, however, proved troublesome to say the least. The very instance that a corner of my suitcase ever so slightly brushed against the leg of another person, I immediately came to the realization that I had FORGOTTEN ALL THE ITALIAN I HAD EVER KNOWN.

Game. over.

I wanted so desperately to say “excuse me” but I could not for the life of me remember the formal form of scusa (its scusi, in case you were wondering). My following thought process, however illogical, is outlined below:

Me speaking: Scu – uhh I’m sor- uhh mmmm…. okay.

Me thinking: scusa? scusi? a? i? ahhh what is it?!?! Wonderful, I have been in this country all of TWO minutes and I am already flawlessly fulfilling the role of the rude, thoughtless American. a? i? A? I? crap. Oh no. Don’t cry. Come on, Kelsey, PULL YOURSELF TOGETHER WOMAN.

Okay so perhaps I exaggerate a bit. But you catch my drift. Those of you who have spent time in the library with me, the fluorscent lights of the PCL sucking the life and joy out of our- ok I’ll talk about the Pickle another time- Those of you who have studied with me know that I study Italian by writing extensive color-coded notes on the whiteboard.

As I continued to bump into people and stumble over volcabulary, visions of these whiteboard notes flashed through my mind, clouding my vision, and stressing. me. out. I began to imagine painfully muted meals with my host family, the cacophonous clink of silverware breaking up the otherwise uncomfortable silence. Only one thing could prevent the inevitable nervous breakdown.

C O F F E E

I made an immediate and unapologetically frantic beeline towards the nearest cafe, reached the counter and said, “Prendo un’espresso per favore.” As soon as the words left my mouth, an overwhelming peace washed over me. No matter that the cashier answered in English, clearly recognizing me as oneofthoseamericanstudenttouristthingswhoincessantlyinsistonpracticingtheirderelictitalian. No matter that it was still the only phrase I could think of. It was something. It reminded me of why I was here and, more importantly, why I wanted to be here. To learn Italian – to soak in the language and culture like a sponge, absorbing all the nuances and slang and other cool tidbits of Italian life.

She handed me my coffee. 

I said grazie. 

She said your welcome. 

And thats ok because I still have SIX WHOLE WEEKS LEFT! Just wait. I’ll probs be fluent tomorrow.

A question as old as time...

...aisle or window?

Would I prefer to lay my head on the rigid plastic curvature of the airplane wall while denying myself liquids in vain attempt to avoid the loo? Or would I rather try to extend my cramped gams into the aisle, only the have them mangled by a runaway snack cart? Ooor should I be a rebel and risk the intimate middle seat? JUST KIDDING. 

also.

10 hours in an airplaine YIKEZ.

Thats a long time, but for a six foot senorita like me, sitting in those airplane seats is akin to camping out in a microwave from now till Christmas.

So I have devised a foolproof plan complete with, but not limited to:

• drugz (melatonin)
•  a costume change (into my favority comfy, oversized knit, soft leggings, and wool socks)
• a magical tablet for entertainment when the drugz fail me (ipad)
• and a comprehensive checklist that includes “CONFIRM PRESENCE OF PASSPORT” no less than five times. i have also tattooed that on my forearm. 

Curious about what fabulous garb I’ve planned to travel in pre costume change? Well you’re in luck, you lucky ducks, because not only am I going to tell you, I’m going to show you!

Equal parts chic and comfortable, this olive wrap dress is one of my favorite new summer pieces. 

Those perfectly worn-in white loafers? My Mama’s Pradas from the 90s. (shout out to mamacita! -good call keeping the pradas but trashing that acid wash denim jacket and pant monstrocity combo....)

And those BIG. FAT. CRYSTAL. ROCKS weighing down my neck? Only my favorite statement necklace ever – snaps for Jenna Lyons, creative director at J.Crew and one of my favorite style icons of all time, for creating such a beautiful piece.

dress, J.CREW / shoes, PRADA / necklace, J.CREW / sunnies, GAP

photo credit, mamacita

This is my last stateside post, so stay tuned for my next one written from across the pond when the real fun begins! ciao!!