tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-65561388281890521502024-03-12T21:53:08.039-07:00The Woman to BlameThe musings of an ordinary, everyday, sane (well most of the time) twenty something college student whose searching for her lost shaker of salt.TheWomantoBlamehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09447181227737787618noreply@blogger.comBlogger96125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6556138828189052150.post-52984226505196653572011-07-20T06:07:00.000-07:002011-09-25T11:30:41.590-07:00Middle of Nowhere<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="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-1FPV8Tx8HMM/TibSKz1EAlI/AAAAAAAAANc/Lk52LRqN3fI/s1600/DSCN3959.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-1FPV8Tx8HMM/TibSKz1EAlI/AAAAAAAAANc/Lk52LRqN3fI/s320/DSCN3959.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Once you get past Florence this is all you see... </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-XD-TuDvIvNM/TibSQQEgF-I/AAAAAAAAANg/bLwlYg32nls/s1600/DSCN3965.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-XD-TuDvIvNM/TibSQQEgF-I/AAAAAAAAANg/bLwlYg32nls/s320/DSCN3965.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Population: 0</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-CQEWHA1hZ10/TibSUxOREXI/AAAAAAAAANk/-TIHwX2SOuk/s1600/DSCN3969.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-CQEWHA1hZ10/TibSUxOREXI/AAAAAAAAANk/-TIHwX2SOuk/s320/DSCN3969.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rural Italy</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/--uOVRzixRvM/TibSZaVPO7I/AAAAAAAAANo/fwjvfOGfQGc/s1600/DSCN3970.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/--uOVRzixRvM/TibSZaVPO7I/AAAAAAAAANo/fwjvfOGfQGc/s320/DSCN3970.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Train view</td></tr>
</tbody></table>TheWomantoBlamehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09447181227737787618noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6556138828189052150.post-31241544550197723292011-07-20T06:02:00.000-07:002011-07-20T06:02:28.950-07:00Dolla Dolla Bills Y'allMy time in Italy has gone by so fast! This weekend is our last "free" weekend for travel. Tomorrow after class we are headed to La Spezia and going to hike the Cinque Terre on Friday then Saturday we are going to take a train over to Milan and maybe do Lake Como/ Milan. Pretty excited from what I have read Cinque Terra is one of those things lots of tourist don't take the time to do but is totally worth it. One sure thing I have learned about Italy is it is expensive! Train tickets add up fast. I have been doing a really good job of managing my money, haven't been going to out eat or out to the bar instead going to the grocery store. I started adding up what I spent all my money on and it was mostly train tickets and hotels. Train tickets especially, I think last weekend I spent close to 200 euros on train tickets alone. My wallet will certainly be happy when I return back to the states that's for sure.TheWomantoBlamehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09447181227737787618noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6556138828189052150.post-73311461944444426692011-07-17T05:39:00.000-07:002011-07-19T11:05:36.258-07:00Torino<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="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-MfgbY_fntao/TiXF1-9PcCI/AAAAAAAAANI/NO0Ps08Ne1k/s1600/DSCN3912.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-MfgbY_fntao/TiXF1-9PcCI/AAAAAAAAANI/NO0Ps08Ne1k/s320/DSCN3912.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Po River</td></tr>
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Torino was a nice change of pace from my Milan-Ferrari-adrenaline experience. The one thing I did notice about these cities was how active the people were. Back in Perugia and southern Italy I hardly ever saw people going out for a run or bike ride. In fact I actually get strange looks from the locals when I go out for a run. Not the case in Milan and Torino, everybody was outside. Maybe because its flatter, cooler and there is actually space to go out and run I don't know. Torino is a city overlooked by a lot of tourists its a shame too, its very laid back and young compared to the rest of Italy. Another fun fact I learned, Torino was actually the first capital of Italy in the 1860s. But enough with the history lesson.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Long way down</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-grwaF8EJj_4/TiXHJmH97PI/AAAAAAAAANY/AcmHkO6nG4c/s1600/DSCN3917.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-grwaF8EJj_4/TiXHJmH97PI/AAAAAAAAANY/AcmHkO6nG4c/s320/DSCN3917.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I was all the way up there...</td></tr>
</tbody></table> Saturday night I walked around and stumbled into the Mole Antonelliana, which now is home to a really cool cinema museum. I took the freakiest glass elevator, think Charlie and the Chocolate factory all the way to the top of the mole and got an amazing view of the city and the alps. Glass elevator, not the smartest idea for someone who is afraid of falling. It was so creepy because unlike a normal elevator there was no shaft, or at least you couldn't see it.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-CXWfGdFAUSo/TiXFuMFg0oI/AAAAAAAAANE/I3CNKNE6ex8/s1600/DSCN3896.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-CXWfGdFAUSo/TiXFuMFg0oI/AAAAAAAAANE/I3CNKNE6ex8/s320/DSCN3896.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Well worth the view</td></tr>
</tbody></table>After I settled down and my knees stopped shaking I walked to the Po river and through the main piazza. Unfortunately by the time I made my way to the Turin Cathedral, home to the Holy Shroud it was closed. I did get to check out the Palatine towers which were kinda of in a sketchy area. The next morning I got up and walked to the other end of the city and saw some amazing views of the river and The Castle of Valentino. I had to walk through this adorable little park area that ran along the river. I was shocked how many people were out running, biking and rollerblading(?)! I made it back to Perugia and I caught the second half of the Woman's World Cup at the local pub. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-UhV10qc1b3E/TiXGDXqyqDI/AAAAAAAAANQ/jYTC-MqXNgw/s1600/DSCN3928.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-UhV10qc1b3E/TiXGDXqyqDI/AAAAAAAAANQ/jYTC-MqXNgw/s320/DSCN3928.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Palatine Towers</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-A6lUFoQ1cJg/TiXF9NmVK8I/AAAAAAAAANM/GlDHAwvR5F4/s1600/DSCN3953.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-A6lUFoQ1cJg/TiXF9NmVK8I/AAAAAAAAANM/GlDHAwvR5F4/s320/DSCN3953.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In front of the Valentino Palace</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-l18adNgCyvM/TiXGKgI99ZI/AAAAAAAAANU/EUvzqDZ0FzQ/s1600/DSCN3940.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-l18adNgCyvM/TiXGKgI99ZI/AAAAAAAAANU/EUvzqDZ0FzQ/s320/DSCN3940.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Love it! </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
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</tbody></table>TheWomantoBlamehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09447181227737787618noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6556138828189052150.post-52473329589422615392011-07-16T05:22:00.000-07:002011-07-19T05:37:14.272-07:00Driving down the streets of Milan<div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;">When I was walking around Friday night I passed a Ferrari store, they were having a “Drive Your Dream Car" event. A flashy red Ferrari California, a sleek black Ferrari 430 and an orange Lamborghini were parked out in the piazza. I stopped to look at the cars and assumed there would be no way I could ever drive one of those babies, so I didn't even bother asking. Later on back at the hotel that night I laid in bed kicking myself for not asking if I could get at least a picture with one of the cars. </span></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="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-tGsyfI8-B3g/TiV5jI6CbkI/AAAAAAAAAMk/UEDRRQfOFFQ/s1600/DSCN3879.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-tGsyfI8-B3g/TiV5jI6CbkI/AAAAAAAAAMk/UEDRRQfOFFQ/s320/DSCN3879.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ferrari 430</td></tr>
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</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;">Saturday morning I had just finished the “fashion district” when I stumbled into the same Ferrari store having the same promotion. Jokingly I went up to the sales lady and ask, “What it would take for me to drive one of those?” I was pretty shocked when she told me no problem I could drive it... for a pretty reasonable price. They would let me, a twenty-one year-old American girl drive a car worth over $200, 000?!?!?! I went back and forth, was it worth it? I really wanted to, I mean come on who can say they drove a Ferrari down the streets of Milan? But at the same time after train tickets and hotels money is starting to get tight and I can afford to be wasteful. After a phone call to Mom (it was 6am over in the states) I got the confirmation I needed and signed the dotted line. I have never got out of a car and had so much adrenaline pumping through my veins. Words can’t even describe the feeling but I am gonna try nonetheless. </span></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="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-9JtPPEEVxvs/TiV5lsjGMpI/AAAAAAAAAMo/7e3YnhLmsfk/s1600/DSCN3865.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-9JtPPEEVxvs/TiV5lsjGMpI/AAAAAAAAAMo/7e3YnhLmsfk/s320/DSCN3865.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Just a tad nervous</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-B1gE7W4QgfA/TiV5pq9FoJI/AAAAAAAAAMs/_D5ActBeVSY/s1600/DSCN3871.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-B1gE7W4QgfA/TiV5pq9FoJI/AAAAAAAAAMs/_D5ActBeVSY/s320/DSCN3871.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">F430... my guide started getting a little picture happy </td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-J_JTcswHyzY/TiV5Ug5ZiEI/AAAAAAAAAMc/OCWKBdKZ1T8/s1600/DSCN3867.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-J_JTcswHyzY/TiV5Ug5ZiEI/AAAAAAAAAMc/OCWKBdKZ1T8/s320/DSCN3867.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;">The sound of the engine, its response to me pushing down on the accelerator, the feel of the car gripping the road when accelerating into a tight turn, the jealous glances of middle aged men wondering what a young girl is doing in machine, no rather a work of flawless engineering art left me feeling in powerful state of content. It was a feeling I had never experienced before, even though it only last for twenty minutes I could see why people would pay so much money for a car. Previously the idea of spending 200k on a car seemed impractical and frivolous but now I get it, not saying I am planning on purchasing one anytime but I get it, I experienced the high. In the end it was totally worth it. I had an "experience of a lifetime" plus I got it on video. I have no idea how I am gonna upload the video but I will figure it out. Until then here are some pictures my guide snapped. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yes actually driving</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-0seiQLG0aVo/TiV6JrUJFiI/AAAAAAAAAM0/h3Pz1HGoAsk/s1600/DSCN3872.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-0seiQLG0aVo/TiV6JrUJFiI/AAAAAAAAAM0/h3Pz1HGoAsk/s320/DSCN3872.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">So sleek when you turned the car on it looked like the inside of a fighter jet</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Keys to the whip</td></tr>
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</span></div>TheWomantoBlamehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09447181227737787618noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6556138828189052150.post-33020663857853344542011-07-16T04:06:00.000-07:002011-07-16T04:06:59.144-07:00Field TripClass. O yes, the "real reason" I am over in Italy. A group of 15 of us are taking two classes while we are over here for the month, Sports Marketing and Retail Management. We have class Monday thru Thursday each class lasting about twoish hours. Fridays we get off so we can travel and Mondays class is pushed back so we could come Monday morning. Ever Wednesday in lieu of class we go on a "field trip". The first week we went to a high end cashmere designer, Brunello Cucinelli took a tour then spend the day in nearby town.<br />
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This week we toured a local winery and then spent the afternoon in Assisi. The winery tour was amazing. Our tour guide was actually the Grandson of the man who founded the winery and spoke English! Listening to him talk about the wine making process I could just feel his passion for wine. I hope one day I can be that passionate about my career, whatever it ends up being. He said it best wine making is "half science half art", I never knew how technical and precise the process is. After we finished the tour his mother (her father founded the winery) came and said hello. And yes Mom and Dad I did do some shopping in the gift shop ;)TheWomantoBlamehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09447181227737787618noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6556138828189052150.post-41185476693319711012011-07-16T03:32:00.000-07:002011-07-16T03:32:24.526-07:00Santana Pictures<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="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-iDGmddjyqRY/TiFm1WqChMI/AAAAAAAAALo/Tki1_11iNsc/s1600/DSCN1978.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-iDGmddjyqRY/TiFm1WqChMI/AAAAAAAAALo/Tki1_11iNsc/s320/DSCN1978.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rockin out to the sounds of Carlos Santana</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-LToGoA2kytY/TiFnF40F-xI/AAAAAAAAALs/1dOY-RiVrDE/s1600/DSCN2008.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-LToGoA2kytY/TiFnF40F-xI/AAAAAAAAALs/1dOY-RiVrDE/s320/DSCN2008.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tad trippy </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-b3ECA7qOrMU/TiFnUAw_ztI/AAAAAAAAALw/E_y_61ZGi-Y/s1600/DSCN2010.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-b3ECA7qOrMU/TiFnUAw_ztI/AAAAAAAAALw/E_y_61ZGi-Y/s320/DSCN2010.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Santana was all about "Peace and Love" </td></tr>
</tbody></table>TheWomantoBlamehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09447181227737787618noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6556138828189052150.post-50636442090756151602011-07-15T05:03:00.000-07:002011-07-19T05:22:25.964-07:00Milan<style>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-OPEnHM4txRU/TiVzQJOs4dI/AAAAAAAAAMU/K7bSPORzIdM/s1600/DSCN3745.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-OPEnHM4txRU/TiVzQJOs4dI/AAAAAAAAAMU/K7bSPORzIdM/s320/DSCN3745.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Top notch hotel room, thanks DG!</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal"> Horary, I am in Milan all checked into the hotel safe and sound. Big shout out to DG, she booked this hotel for me and it’s so nice, there is AC! So far I have gotten the impression Milan is different than other Italian cities, it’s the “new Italy”. From what I have read there isn’t a lot to see when compared to Florence or Rome. Of course there is “The Last Supper” and the Duomo but other than that I just have been walking around soaking it all up. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0GGQxFvWl5w/TiVy6UclpsI/AAAAAAAAAME/kn9Lhx6Ck4Q/s1600/DSCN3753.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0GGQxFvWl5w/TiVy6UclpsI/AAAAAAAAAME/kn9Lhx6Ck4Q/s320/DSCN3753.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Castello Sforzeco</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
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</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal">After dropping my bags off I walked around some, found an amazing Sushi place for lunch and ended up stumbling into the Castello Sforzeco. It was a tad disappointing as most of it was undergoing renovation but it was still pretty neat sight to see this 14th century castle right in the middle of a 21st century city. Apparently its time it was one of the largest citadels in Europe and used to house the Dutchy of Milan. One thing interesting I learned, unlike Rome and Florence who relatively came out of the bombings of WWII unscathed Milan and Torino were major targets for the Allied powers. Afterwords I checked out the Parco Sempione which was a giant park and saw the Arch of Peace. </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="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-S6Nbg_GZB_o/TiV2MtaGtRI/AAAAAAAAAMY/o8Vva8sgwG8/s1600/DSCN3764.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-S6Nbg_GZB_o/TiV2MtaGtRI/AAAAAAAAAMY/o8Vva8sgwG8/s320/DSCN3764.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Arch of Peace</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal">I visited the Duomo, which is the 2<sup>nd</sup> largest church in the world only behind St. Peter’s (of course). I got to climb to the top of the church, which was pretty cool. Climbing things and checking out the view seems to be all I do on my weekends. Totally worth it though, seeing the intricate gothic façade up close was amazing plus I got a bunch of cool pictures. </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="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_vGtJjRaRPE/TiVzANg52gI/AAAAAAAAAMI/-4FYe60PMIs/s1600/DSCN3772.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_vGtJjRaRPE/TiVzANg52gI/AAAAAAAAAMI/-4FYe60PMIs/s320/DSCN3772.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pretty cool huh?</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-oKDDXfhwCWg/TiVzDYFBAZI/AAAAAAAAAMM/1FP5F63sEZo/s1600/DSCN3805.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-oKDDXfhwCWg/TiVzDYFBAZI/AAAAAAAAAMM/1FP5F63sEZo/s320/DSCN3805.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Facade up close on the top of the roof </td></tr>
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</div><div class="MsoNormal">Next to the Duomo was the Galleria Vittorio Emanuele II, which is credited to being the first indoor shopping mall. It’s a street with a bunch of nice high-end stores covered by a glass dome. Friday night I ate dinner at a restaurant there, not the smartest idea. It was 20:30 (8:30pm) I was tired, hungry and lost trying to find a place that a guidebook recommended so I just gave up and plopped down. You know you are at a tourist trap restaurant when someone from the restaurant is trying to get people on the street to come in. My veal and rissotto was average at best and way over priced. It was nice to have something other than pizza, sandwiches or Caprese salad. </div><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-b5UeACti4Ns/TiVzGunWszI/AAAAAAAAAMQ/95gMaKhrzaA/s1600/DSCN3777.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-b5UeACti4Ns/TiVzGunWszI/AAAAAAAAAMQ/95gMaKhrzaA/s320/DSCN3777.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dome of the first indoor shopping mall</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal">The next morning I had pretty much the coolest experience I have had in Italy so far. So cool it's worthy of its own blog post. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div>TheWomantoBlamehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09447181227737787618noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6556138828189052150.post-62505324794110788682011-07-15T01:38:00.000-07:002011-07-15T01:38:28.276-07:00SantanaEvery year Perugia hosts the Umbria Jazz Festival. If you are like me you are probably thinking "big stinking deal". I'll be honest, I thought that too. Actually I was kinda disappointed after first looking over the lineup. In years past Eric Clapton has headlined. Eric. Freaking. Clapton. I love Eric Clapton. Of course this year, my luck, no Eric Clapton. But someone on the lineup did catch my eye, Santana, as in Carlos Santana. Not as cool as Eric Clapton but he comes in a close second in my book. Tickets were a little steep for my college student budget (51 euros) but after going back and forth I decided to live it up and splurge. A small group of us got tickets and it was definitely money well spent, he played a three hour set for goodness sake. I mean come on now, what an experience! Santana is one cool cat, an old cat, but none less pretty damn cool. (I'll post some pics in a little bit. The wifi on the train is a little slow, fingers crossed the hotel is better)TheWomantoBlamehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09447181227737787618noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6556138828189052150.post-44505896780602270552011-07-15T01:02:00.001-07:002011-07-15T01:02:16.700-07:00Walking into a Drug BustI know I mentioned it briefly but last weekend I went to Florence for the weekend with a group of my classmates. I did not however tell you of our little adventure the first night we were in town. After a dinner the group of us were sitting in one of the Florence's many Piazzas, people watching and trying to figure out where we were headed to next. I noticed before dinner the piazzas was not one of Florence's finest areas (i.e. there were a lot of homeless/ sketchy backpackers drinking beer out of brown paper bags). Anyways after looking at the map we got up and started to head down a road back to our hostel. About 20 yards ahead of us was a group of four maybe five young Italian guys hanging on. We were probably about 10 to 15 yards in front of group of locals when out of nowhere a young Italian guy in everyday street clothes jumped in front of us flashed us a bag and asked to see our passports. I didn't even think about it was just instincts that kicked in but immediately I turned around and looked for one of uniform cops that was back in the piazza. It didn't take long for me to find a police officer in a light blue uniform (further confirming the place was a little bit sketchy, that many police normally don't hang out in piazzas). I quickly looked back at the group and there were three cops in dark blue uniforms talking with my classmates and two other officers the group of locals and a police car was just pulling up as well.<br />
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Thankfully the cop I approached spoke a little bit of English and confirmed that the guy with the badge was actually a cop just a "regional" police officer thus explaining the different color uniforms. I was concerned because they guy flashing the bag wasn't in a uniform and had heard stories of pickpockets posing as undercover police. I started to head back over to the group of my classmates. By this time the cops in the car pulled out a big German Sheppard who was sniffing around the area were the group of locals was hanging out. Again thank God, one of the police officers in dark blue spoke English and kept asking us if we had any drugs, of course none of us did. The English speaking officer was very nice and we chatted while another officer was on his cell phone apparently checking the passports of two of my classmates who had handed theirs over.<br />
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All I could think of while I was talking to the officer was the conversation I had with my Mom about the Amanda Knox case. A brief summary of the conversation was even though now all the evidence says she didn't kill her roommate, due to the language barrier she ended up answering "yes" when asked if she killed her roommate. Italian law isn't like the US, there is no innocent until proven guilty. All the cops need is a confession, does not matter if you understand what you are confessing to or not. So during the conversation when the cop kept asking us if we had drugs I started to get nervous. He explained to us that apparently the undercover cop smelled something in the area we were headed towards. After the cop on the phone hung up and gave back the passports he told us we were free to go. The whole ordeal lasted maybe twenty minutes but is sure felt longer than that. So lesson learned, stay away from sketchy areas.TheWomantoBlamehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09447181227737787618noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6556138828189052150.post-71372259375639521732011-07-14T04:20:00.000-07:002011-07-19T04:23:15.257-07:00Flying solo<style>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">All packed and ready to go</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Hlt0Vr5rWm8/TiVozxkASuI/AAAAAAAAAMA/2dncGsi97DY/s1600/DSCN2022.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Hlt0Vr5rWm8/TiVozxkASuI/AAAAAAAAAMA/2dncGsi97DY/s320/DSCN2022.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Perugia train station at 05:30 </td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal">This weekend everybody is headed down to the Amalfi coast and Pompei. Since I was just there, (what two weeks ago? gosh it feels like that was a lifetime ago) I am on my own planning a trip to Milan and Torino. Yes, traveling by myself in a foreign country where I don’t speak the language does sound a little crazy and apparently Hotty Toddy Daddy isn’t too happy with this but o well. It’s a learning opportunity. It’s a challenge, a step out of my comfort zone, an opportunity for self-growth plus I want to prove it to myself that I can do it. Friday morning I have a 05:30 train to Florence then I go from Florence to Milan and should be there by 14:00. I spend the night in Milan and leave for Torino at 12:00 on Saturday and spend all day Saturday and then leave to come back to Perugia in time to catch the Women’s World Cup final Sunday night. Here we gooooooo </div>TheWomantoBlamehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09447181227737787618noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6556138828189052150.post-57418851802277722392011-07-11T10:04:00.000-07:002011-07-11T10:04:31.094-07:00Perugia<style>
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<div class="MsoNormal">So much has happened since I dropped mom back off at the Rome airport and met up with the group. I’ll just give you a quick overview. I am sharing an apartment with four other girls. Its pretty big for Italy standards, I have my own tiny little room. But of course the apartment doesn’t have air condition or a dryer so doing laundry its time consuming. I am taking two classes that I absolutely love, sports marketing and retail management. We have class late on Mondays and have off Fridays so we can travel. We started a beer Olympics League, complete with an official draft of course. So the plan is to have different drinking competitions and the winning team of each different event gets points. </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="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-I89b_z7SxlE/ThssO6iEN7I/AAAAAAAAALY/jBeKl7VR4uw/s1600/DSCN3000.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-I89b_z7SxlE/ThssO6iEN7I/AAAAAAAAALY/jBeKl7VR4uw/s320/DSCN3000.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nice view from the city walls</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The group in the city square</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-UzRPWHCpfmo/Thsse_Xy77I/AAAAAAAAALg/JIYjN44jOco/s1600/DSCN3091.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-UzRPWHCpfmo/Thsse_Xy77I/AAAAAAAAALg/JIYjN44jOco/s320/DSCN3091.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">View from Brunello Cucinelli...not bad</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal"> The first even was tower Tuesday, last week, each team had to drink two towers of beer. Wednesday morning was rough. <span> </span>We had a field trip to a nice cashmere factory Brunello Cucinelli and then spent the day in Cortona, needless to say the league I think came to the consensus that Tower Tuesdays would not be a weekly occurrence. <span> </span>This weekend I went with a little group to Florence and Venice. Wow! I could write an entire blog post just on our first day in Florence. </div>TheWomantoBlamehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09447181227737787618noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6556138828189052150.post-34983972499290822932011-06-28T04:22:00.000-07:002011-07-11T04:25:01.526-07:00Day 5 Orvieto<style>
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<div class="MsoNormal">After yesterday’s fiasco we tried to take it easy. Oriento had a gorgeous domo, that’s Church in English. We toured the church, did some shopping then checked out the caves of Oriento. Apparently people a long time ago dug caves underneath the town? I don’t really see the appeal in living below the ground when above the ground it’s so pretty but whatever floats your boat. After we finished with our little impromptu tour of the city we decided one day of driving was enough and we would return the car in Naples, get our passports and spend the night at my Godparent’s house. </div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The city walls</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mom in a cave</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Back in Naples</td></tr>
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</div>TheWomantoBlamehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09447181227737787618noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6556138828189052150.post-7472066385550834492011-06-27T03:27:00.000-07:002011-07-11T03:31:16.789-07:00Day 4 Driving June 27<style>
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<div class="MsoNormal">O. My. God. The past three days have been going way too smoothly its only natural that today everything broke down. The day started off like any other before. A wonderful breakfast of freshly baked croissants and jams followed by the best cappuccino. Mom and I packed up and check out of our hotel early. Our driver Francisco was to take us to Pozzuli, a hill town outside of Naples about a two hour drive north of Sorrento. My parents rented a house in Pozzuli when my dad was stationed in Naples and that is where I was born. My parent’s landlords were an Italian couple who became my Godparents. The first 45 minutes or so I tried to count how many times Francisco said, “ya know”. I got to 135 before I fell asleep. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Mom has not been back to the house in twenty years. She didn’t have the actual address; we just had to go on look and feel. Gulp. O I should mention that my Godparents do not speak English. Thanks to the power of the internet and my mother’s surprisingly good stalking skills she some how managed to find a recent phone number called the house and got in touch with one of my Godparents children, I didn’t even know they had children. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Anyways the combination of a driver who does not listen and my mother’s bad memory going on twenty-year-old directions made for an interesting combination. Plus we are driving through the circus otherwise known as Naples. Interesting side note, currently in Naples the garbage workers have been on strike. It has been going on for a couple of weeks so well you can see the results, piles of trash for whole city blocks.</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="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2AdoPycwzko/ThrQYqjGifI/AAAAAAAAALA/aHbaS5FHoKk/s1600/DSCN2426.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2AdoPycwzko/ThrQYqjGifI/AAAAAAAAALA/aHbaS5FHoKk/s320/DSCN2426.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Garbage strike</td></tr>
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</div><div class="MsoNormal">By some miracle we made it to the house. It was great to see something my parents have always talk about. The parents are actually in France on vacation but will be back on Tuesday so we have to go back and see them. So after our little visit Francisco drove us to the Naples airport were we had to pick up a rental car which mom would drive to a little bed in breakfast in a small hill town north of Rome. Well we were in line for the rental car agency when I forgot about the passports. When you check into a hotel in Europe you have to give them your passport and when you check out you get them back. The guy at the hotel in Sorrento never gave us our passports back. Mental head slap, this is like breaking the Nazi study abroad orientation leaders cardinal rule…”always have your passport on you”. </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="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-u3Pwn-VbXd4/ThrQmEb6WQI/AAAAAAAAALE/3zSwUiJEL44/s1600/DSCN2430.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-u3Pwn-VbXd4/ThrQmEb6WQI/AAAAAAAAALE/3zSwUiJEL44/s320/DSCN2430.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We made it! The house I was born in</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal">So after what seemed a giant production Francisco arranged to get us the passports and leave them at the car rental agency when we returned the car. I don’t think I have mentioned it but now seems like a good time so you can understand the craziness of this situation but Mom and I do not have a working cell phone over here, all of our phone conversation back and forth to the different hotels and my god parents we had to ask someone to borrow their phone. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">We get our rental car and transfer our entire luggage in. It’s a little Fiat, think European version of a Smart Car and more importantly it’s a manual. I look over at Mom; “I didn’t even know they made manual cars anymore. When is the last time you drove a stick?” Her reply “its been about twenty years”. Shit and it showed too, she tried to put the car in reverse to back out of the spot. No such luck, our car leaps forward. She tries again, still no luck. Shit. Then finally after the fifth or sixth try she flags down a young guy “excuse senior, reverse?” Yes we actually had to ask a guy how to get the car in reverse. If this wasn’t a sign we didn’t have business driving a car in Italy I don’t know what is. At this point I was mentally kicking myself thinking I should have gone into the little church back into Sorrento and lit a candle and said a prayer.<span> </span></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="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-xJblHzNRXBs/ThrQolp0jfI/AAAAAAAAALI/_1EZKBUD-48/s1600/DSCN2514.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-xJblHzNRXBs/ThrQolp0jfI/AAAAAAAAALI/_1EZKBUD-48/s320/DSCN2514.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Watch out!</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal"> We had a three-hour drive to a little down North of Rome were we would be staying at for the next two days. The travel agent recommend this place saying it was like an Italian bed and breakfast. Mom and I interpreted that to mean “rustic”. Miraculously we managed to get onto the highway.<span> </span>At this point I figured it would be best for my mental health to adopt my policy of “ignorance is bliss” so I closed my eyes, said a prayer then preceded to go to sleep.<span> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Mom woke me up when it was time to get off the autostrada, which is a highway with basically no speed limit to help navigate (navaguess?) to the hotel. The directions called for us to get off at an exit that was simple put in the middle of nowhere. If you looked up into the mountains and weren’t blinded by the sun you could vaguely make out a small village way up in the clouds. That had to be it. We succeeded in our first test of actually making it up the mountain; I would like to credit it on my great navigating skills and ability to read Italian. When we arrived this little village was empty, seriously it was a ghost town. The streets were cobblestone, extremely old and extremely narrow. So narrow that only one car could pass at a time and you had to turn off the cars AC and pull in the side mirrors. We got to the hotel and nobody was there, as in door and windows closed and not answering the phone closed. Mom quickly made the executive decision we would not be staying here. We got back in the car and drove to the next big town over. </div>TheWomantoBlamehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09447181227737787618noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6556138828189052150.post-23388034428966341192011-06-26T10:22:00.000-07:002011-07-04T10:23:01.455-07:00Day 3 Pompei June 26, 2011<style>
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<div class="MsoNormal">Okay I have to admit; I was secretly supper excided about going to Pompei. I blame my nerdy obsession with Pompei on my high school Latin teacher Ms. Moshos. Whenever we had a substitute teacher in her class, which wasn’t an uncommon occurrence, we would watch videos on Pompei. Ms. Moshos showed some real gems. My favorite was the bootlegged recorded PBS-made-for-TV documentary on a VCR tape. You know the grainy 1980ish videos where the person in the front of the class was in charged of fast forwarding through all the commercials? By my second year in Latin I discovered if I ask Ms. Moshos any general question on Pompei, I could get her started on a tangent that would last the entire class thus delaying any quiz or test that was scheduled for the day. It was a tactic that served me well up until my last year in Latin and one that I proudly passed down to future Latin scholars. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">So after years of sitting through those movies I had to be somewhat excited to see the real thing. We took the ghetto subway to the Pompei runes sight and met our guide for a private tour. After over two hours of this tour I began to feel like this man would be total husband material for my former Latin teacher. He was really smart and knowledgeable about everything don’t get me wrong but boy did he talk a lot. I mean there are only some many ruins of accident houses a girl can take. He did take us to the “red light” district of Pompei that was pretty funny. We went into a house that had twenty different bedrooms and above each bedroom door there was a scene painted above that told the prospective customers what they would be umm for lack of better words, “getting”. The picture below shows a man dressed as a woman. </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="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-M9MriyhPSXQ/ThH1tPNXDjI/AAAAAAAAAKA/GOuPsq74R3M/s1600/DSCN2380.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-M9MriyhPSXQ/ThH1tPNXDjI/AAAAAAAAAKA/GOuPsq74R3M/s320/DSCN2380.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Is a caption even necessary? </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-LhGg6c19xfg/ThH2O2CIMuI/AAAAAAAAAKE/-GJTqZFAPGY/s1600/DSCN2412.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-LhGg6c19xfg/ThH2O2CIMuI/AAAAAAAAAKE/-GJTqZFAPGY/s320/DSCN2412.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">View from the hotel</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-WN1utlNKu-c/ThH2VhfE5-I/AAAAAAAAAKM/LHJWyYXPHP8/s1600/DSCN2409.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-WN1utlNKu-c/ThH2VhfE5-I/AAAAAAAAAKM/LHJWyYXPHP8/s320/DSCN2409.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hanging out in Pompei</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal"> After a whole day of trekking around ruins we got back to the hotel and I had a sudden burst of energy. To my surprise our hotel had a “gym”, which is pretty rare in Italy. I say “gym” because it was a set of free weights with a treadmill in a room with a computer and a TV so nothing too fancy. I wish I had taken a picture of the room because it was so cool. It had marble floors with little intricate painted designs and glass walls so you could see the rock and the hillside the hotel was built in. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">That night we went down into the town for dinner and my darling mother wanted to return a purse that she bought last year that broke. I don’t mean like return a purse to a department store; this was a little hole in the wall local shop. At night in Sorrento they close the main street off and people can just walk around like a giant town square. Continuing our post dinner gelato routine Mom and I found a little nook off the main drag to get our nightly fix. Coming out of the shop with Gelato in hand I started shouting “Mom, this is delici…” but the entire street was quiet. An old Italian lady gave me a nasty look as she was rubbing her crucifix between her thumb and index finger. In the street there were a two rows of nuns. They were covered in grey and singing (or was it chanting?) just walking down the street. People were lined up on the sidewalks as priests, monks, followed the nuns and finally a middle age man wearing a sash the colors of the Italian flag who I assumed was the mayor of Sorrento. The different groups of monks and nuns with their unique dress reminded me of the different branches of the military and how they two have their own distinguishing uniforms. The entire parade was a spectacle to say the least. As I was about to get my camera out the scary old Itlitan lady next to me started making murmuring sounds underneath her breath so I nixed that idea. </div>TheWomantoBlamehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09447181227737787618noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6556138828189052150.post-47018286542609719842011-06-25T09:56:00.000-07:002011-07-04T10:22:40.169-07:00Day 2: Amalfi Coast Tour<style>
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<div class="MsoNormal">So jet lagged. Today we woke up at 7 am, so really its 1 am back in the States. I know I should stop thinking like that if I ever want to get on Italian time! On today’s itinerary we had a private car tour of the Amalfi coast. Our driver was pretty much your stereotypical Italian middle age man named Francisco. Think slicked back salt and pepper hair starting to bald, form fitting black Italian suit, white dress shirt with the top three buttons undone and some chest hair poking out… I think you get the picture. Anyways lucky for us Francisco’s English was decent, but after five minutes in the car I started to realize he said the phrase “Ya know” a lot. Then I started to listen closer and keep track of how many times he dropped the phrase. I was up to 13 in the first minute then I lost track. I mean after everything… “How was your lunch? Ya know?” “And to the left is a first class hotel. Ya know...” “Great position… Ya know?” So needless to say the phrase “ya know” has been our little joke.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><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="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-i4OG9r6M6Q4/ThHvo85LH2I/AAAAAAAAAJo/06zi_bJmiqc/s1600/DSCN2272.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-i4OG9r6M6Q4/ThHvo85LH2I/AAAAAAAAAJo/06zi_bJmiqc/s320/DSCN2272.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Houses built into the hill</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-J-ogHAl--Ug/ThHvq0Lo11I/AAAAAAAAAJs/m53aXor3KAI/s1600/DSCN2282.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-J-ogHAl--Ug/ThHvq0Lo11I/AAAAAAAAAJs/m53aXor3KAI/s320/DSCN2282.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cute little beach town I can't remember the name</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-kTRM3tRkK_Y/ThHvvXylNSI/AAAAAAAAAJw/iCBSCSVyfD0/s1600/DSCN2305.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-kTRM3tRkK_Y/ThHvvXylNSI/AAAAAAAAAJw/iCBSCSVyfD0/s320/DSCN2305.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wow</td></tr>
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</div><div class="MsoNormal">We left Sorrento and stopped at a couple of little beach towns. In a strange way it reminded me of a less trashy version of Jersey Shore. There were lots of young Italians walking around on the beach. Mom asked Francisco if we could go to a little town outside of the tour area called Vetri. For those who aren’t familiar there is a pottery company whose name sake is this little town and apparently they are big in the US. Mom went a little crazy with the pottery getting some ridiculous number of plates. Personally I don’t know why, the design just look like some kindergarten painted a chicken but that’s just me. However in her defense she got this pattern when she lived in Italy 20 years ago and some of her plates have chipped so she wanted to replace them. Below are some pictures, eventually I will upload all my pictures to flicker but until then…<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We are gonna be here for awhile </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tZN4N9D-Ce8/ThHv6d1iaGI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/bGdI5HVJz_E/s1600/DSCN2340.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tZN4N9D-Ce8/ThHv6d1iaGI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/bGdI5HVJz_E/s320/DSCN2340.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In her element...</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ready to go</td></tr>
</tbody></table> </div>TheWomantoBlamehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09447181227737787618noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6556138828189052150.post-81212384621358374842011-06-24T14:43:00.000-07:002011-06-29T15:01:29.195-07:00Day 1: Flying into Rome and Getting to Sorrento<style>
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<div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;">Well we made it. It’s so strange to think I started the day in Virginia and now I am half way across the globe in Italy! Mom and I had a 6pm flight out of Dulles so we had to leave home at 3pm. Flying out in the afternoon is awesome I could sleep in, run errands and get a good workout in before having to leave. The flight itself was around 8 hours, easily the longest plane ride I have ever been on. Of course there was a crying baby sitting in front of me, but I was as Sandra puts it “Good night Irene.” Lights out.<span> </span>Pretty sweet, next thing I know I wake up and we are in Rome. I was a little disappointed though. I was so prepared for the flight and totally accounted for my short attention span… DVD. check. Books. Check. Magazine. Check. I don’t even think I opened my backpack once.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;">After we landed, exchanged money (don’t ever do it right when you get off the plane the exchange fees were insanely high) we had to clear customs. Just fyi, customs in Italy consist of showing your passport smiling to the agent and getting a stamp. Stark contrast to experience I had crossing over the boarder from Mexico to California, with a US military ID I might add. After we got out luggage without incident we then had to take a taxi to the train station in Rome so we could catch a train to Naples. Driving in <s>Rome </s>Italy is an adventure to say the least. To simply sum it up, there are no traffic rules. No speed limits and most importantly, or most frightening, there are no lanes. If you can see empty space, wither in front, side or behind you there will soon be a car or motorcycle there. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JEp6jhwhNLI/TgudoINDc9I/AAAAAAAAAJM/WncuPhD8gOU/s1600/DSCN2215.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JEp6jhwhNLI/TgudoINDc9I/AAAAAAAAAJM/WncuPhD8gOU/s320/DSCN2215.JPG" width="320" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Mom looking out the room's window</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;">The train ride was uneventful. I fell asleep and my mother who did not sleep on the plane and was going on like her 29 hour without sleep was miraculously still a functioning human being. We got to Naples then had to take a smaller local train like the metro in Washington DC or the Boston “T” to our hotel in Sorreinto. That train ride I stayed awake for. I had to it, I was pretty sure if I fell asleep I would get robbed. Outside of the train graffiti was sprayed everywhere, inside it was hot crowded with a stench that was a mixture of sweat, body odor, cigarettes and strong perfume. Finally after a 45 minute train ride, and a 10 minute bus ride we made it to our hotel. </span></div><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-hs0lDQPx9C8/Tgud1FZtdBI/AAAAAAAAAJQ/IMAoVWXqe-4/s1600/DSCN2218.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-hs0lDQPx9C8/Tgud1FZtdBI/AAAAAAAAAJQ/IMAoVWXqe-4/s320/DSCN2218.JPG" width="320" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">View from our room...Note to self Don't Ever Look Down. </span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><span style="font-size: small;"> Literally the hotel was built into the mountain side, lots of stairs but all worth it for a just jaw dropping view of Mt. Vesuvus, the harbor and the little beach area below the cliffs.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6zoUZUB-bao/TgueK3mandI/AAAAAAAAAJU/LAOijsC8X8o/s1600/DSCN2224.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6zoUZUB-bao/TgueK3mandI/AAAAAAAAAJU/LAOijsC8X8o/s320/DSCN2224.JPG" width="320" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Peace. </span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-WjZZJCIogF4/TgueXiU0hnI/AAAAAAAAAJc/heePNpntuHc/s1600/DSCN2229.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-WjZZJCIogF4/TgueXiU0hnI/AAAAAAAAAJc/heePNpntuHc/s320/DSCN2229.JPG" width="320" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Mom took this picture apparently I was to busy (see above). Bambinos playing/ killing birds. </span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: small;"> I tried to take a nap but the energizer bunny… I mean mom was still going. We went out into the town of Sorrento and walked around all around the shops. Sorrento is famous for its giant lemons, which they put to good use and make lemmoncheoo. Anything that could be made with lemons… candy, chocolate, candles you name it you can find in Sorrento. </span></div><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-uqnYQ7lc8M8/TgueluYwNAI/AAAAAAAAAJk/334i4GneFoM/s1600/DSCN2242.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-uqnYQ7lc8M8/TgueluYwNAI/AAAAAAAAAJk/334i4GneFoM/s320/DSCN2242.JPG" width="320" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Shoes anyone? They actually made custom sandals for you in 5mins! </span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-O24QmOcvoEU/Tgueenm9_RI/AAAAAAAAAJg/R_l9iqSbWT8/s1600/DSCN2233.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-O24QmOcvoEU/Tgueenm9_RI/AAAAAAAAAJg/R_l9iqSbWT8/s320/DSCN2233.JPG" width="320" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">The restaurant was called Buffalo Inn so naturally had to do the "Buffalo" </span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><span style="font-size: small;"> We found a great little restaurant that specialized cooking with Buffalo meat and cheese. Yes, like actual water buffalo. I thought they were dead but silly American minded me apparently they are alive and kick in Italy, and the taste delicious. That is all for no. Day One is in the books! </span><br />
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</div>TheWomantoBlamehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09447181227737787618noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6556138828189052150.post-77130164199811424772011-06-23T13:01:00.000-07:002011-06-29T13:11:09.643-07:00Guess Whose Back? (Back Again)<style>
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<div class="MsoNormal">Hello, I have decided to start blogging again. Believe it or not I am actually in Italy right now getting ready to study abroad for a month in Perguia. Mom and I came over six days before I am supposed to meet up with my study abroad group. I have been keeping a word doc journal since I have arrived so that a) I can keep track of everything that happened and b) so my friends and family, well mostly just Hotty Toddy Sister can stop bugging to write again. Finally in Rome our last stop I have had time and a decent Internet connection in that I can actually update the blog so these posts are going to be back dated. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">First let me just explain that before I came to Italy the University back home made all students who were studying abroad attend an orientation session. Coming into the orientation session I was pretty excited about spending a month in a foreign country. I had this romantic moviesque picture painted in my head. My expectations consisted of driving a Vespa scooter through the old cobblestone Perguian (?) streets, tooting a bottle of red wine with my scarf flapping in the wind and underneath my helmet my hair would fall perfectly not a strand out of place …<span> </span>ahhh a girl can dream. The lady leading the orientation session completely erased all those dreams. Instead she painted a colorful picture of angry spiteful custom agents who searched through every nook and cranny in your suitcase looking for contraband, locals who despised Americans and would have you arrested, thrown in jail just for looking at them cross eyed. If of course you survived and you were not incarcerated, brutally tortured or killed (which would leave your parents with a bill of over $200,000 to ship your remains back to the states, just one of the many interesting tidbits we learned) you were destined to have an “amazing experience”. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Not the best way to experience Italy </td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal"> O and I don't know if anybody is keeping up with the whole Amanda Knox story (American girl who was in Italy studying abroad and was convicted of murdering another study abroad girl), well that all went down in Perguia. Yes the same city that I am headed to study abroad at. Freaky huh? So know everybody is really cracking jokes about getting arrested. </div><div class="MsoNormal"></div>TheWomantoBlamehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09447181227737787618noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6556138828189052150.post-62290229108368141072011-03-21T08:09:00.000-07:002011-03-21T08:09:00.626-07:00Mashup Monday<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="390" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/W6fMIfwOrlo" title="YouTube video player" width="640"></iframe><br />
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So last week on Mashup Monday, I had a song by The Hood Internet. I wrote they were one of my favorite mash up artists, well here is a second. I introduce to you White Panda. Happy Monday Y'all.TheWomantoBlamehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09447181227737787618noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6556138828189052150.post-63306756564626078312011-03-14T08:01:00.000-07:002011-03-14T08:01:00.419-07:00Mashup Monday<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="390" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/McRgkE_vgjU" title="YouTube video player" width="640"></iframe><br />
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Everyone knows MGMT's "Kids" but I am not sure if you have heard Chiddy Bang's Remix "Opposite of Adults". Check it out, guarantee it will get stuck in your head.TheWomantoBlamehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09447181227737787618noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6556138828189052150.post-43924256172277543822011-03-07T08:05:00.000-08:002011-03-07T08:05:00.216-08:00Mashup Monday<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="390" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/7ntFnLBN1KU" title="YouTube video player" width="480"></iframe><br />
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The Hood Internet is one of my favorite Mash up artists. These songs just mesh so well its incredible. I am sure this won't be the last song featured on Mash up Monday from The Hood Internet. Happy Monday Y'all!TheWomantoBlamehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09447181227737787618noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6556138828189052150.post-88207328737393682482011-02-28T20:20:00.000-08:002011-02-28T20:20:00.263-08:00Mashup Monday<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="390" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/vWKxzeUxoRo" title="YouTube video player" width="640"></iframe><br />
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So this isn't really a mashup, its more of a remix but Remix Monday doesn't sound as good as Mashup Monday so bare with me. Wiz Khalifa's "Black and Yellow" has topped the charts for a while and Big Gigantic is just sick so its a great combination.TheWomantoBlamehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09447181227737787618noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6556138828189052150.post-71305522289708354692011-02-21T08:13:00.000-08:002011-02-21T08:13:00.135-08:00Mashup Monday<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="390" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/6MvksGpQL8Y" title="YouTube video player" width="480"></iframe><br />
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Lately I have been on a Jay Z and Biggie Smalls kick. Empire State of Mind has been like my go to song for the longest time. So I was pumped when I heard this remix. Then I saw it was by Pretty Lights and I was no surprised at the awesomeness of this track at all.TheWomantoBlamehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09447181227737787618noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6556138828189052150.post-37849056543500275992011-02-17T08:56:00.000-08:002011-02-13T20:58:27.809-08:00The grass is always greener on the otherside.<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">So jealous </td></tr>
</tbody></table> It's pretty warm outside today. I mean come on its February it shouldn't be this warm. But I guess that is what you get when you live in South Carolina. It's kinda of ironic because I have been bit by the ski bug. I wanna go skiing in the worst way. Just a look at my ski boots and its like an inch you can't scratch. I think my ski boots and winter jacket are mocking me. Unfortunately being in South Carolina and allthere aren't lot of skiers. How can you blame them though? Skiers need mountains and snow, the later half which we tend to lack.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Skiing on Bowman Field</td></tr>
</tbody></table> We do get an occasional snow fall. Like at the beginning of the semester we got a couple of inches and I tried to go skiing down college avenue (didn't quite work out). I would love to go out west and ski for spring break I just can't find anyone who would come with me.TheWomantoBlamehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09447181227737787618noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6556138828189052150.post-46714689621158491062011-02-16T08:28:00.000-08:002011-02-16T08:28:00.302-08:00Seeing Stripes<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr align="center"><td>So I am doing some online shopping and I have noticed a trend this Spring. I am seeing stripes! <img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6cH9N8jey2M/TVivxYs2OfI/AAAAAAAAAIs/zuBgK_tJRaw/s320/Stripepocketcardigan59.50.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Stripe Pocket Cardigan $59.50</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
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</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I really love this look, the jean skirt is so cute. J.Crew does it again. </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="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-cQ3VnnE-XFM/TViwxFrGTmI/AAAAAAAAAI8/mCxxFvhK7Sw/s1600/Maritimedress78.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-cQ3VnnE-XFM/TViwxFrGTmI/AAAAAAAAAI8/mCxxFvhK7Sw/s320/Maritimedress78.jpg" width="318" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Maritime Dress $78</td></tr>
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I don't think this dress would be the most flattering thing for me to wear, but its still cute for anybody who can pull if off. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6cH9N8jey2M/TVivxYs2OfI/AAAAAAAAAIs/zuBgK_tJRaw/s1600/Stripepocketcardigan59.50.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-tVJP99txlzk/TVixP9nrJdI/AAAAAAAAAJE/L74lzgKq2po/s1600/Indigo-stripe+boatneck+sailortee65.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-tVJP99txlzk/TVixP9nrJdI/AAAAAAAAAJE/L74lzgKq2po/s320/Indigo-stripe+boatneck+sailortee65.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Indigo Stripe Boatneck Sailor Tee $65</td></tr>
</tbody></table>I love this boatneck shirt, I would have never thought to pair it with the skirt however but it looks great. <br />
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</div>TheWomantoBlamehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09447181227737787618noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6556138828189052150.post-81165246799350007142011-02-15T01:29:00.000-08:002011-02-15T01:29:00.945-08:00ClassesFirst day back at class. Gosh, I feel so behind like I have so much to do when in reality after looking at my planner I must be imagining things. I missed one test that I have to retake, not to worried about it but other than that nothing. I don't have any test next week that I have to start studying for. This might sound corny but I feel really guilty for missing class. See at the beginning of the semester I was researching Clemson facts for a project in my professional selling class when I ran across the tuition. So then that got me thinking and I calculated how many times my classes will meet and divided that by how much tuition is for the semester to get what my parents pay each time I go to class. Every time one of my classes meets my parents pay $175 for me to sit in that class.<br />
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What is sickening is how much in state students pay in comparison... a merely $55 per a class. I am gonna stand on a soapbox for one second, but I went to a high school in one of the top, if not the top public school districts in the United States. Kids from South Carolina have graduated from one worst public education systems in the United States yet they get the reduced rate.... but that is a whole different blog post. Now knowing that my parents pay that much for me to sit in class, I absolutely feel sick to my stomach with guilt every time I think about missing a class. Just some food for thought.TheWomantoBlamehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09447181227737787618noreply@blogger.com0