Top Ten Gelatz

Yes, I know I'm in Spain now. But if there's one thing I miss about Italy, especially on days under a sizzling Sevillan sun, is gelato. Sweet, creamy, multi-flavored gelatz topped in a crunchy waffle cone.

I'm drooling (or just sweating...)

So, while in Italy, I took careful notes on all of my gelato excursions and came up with what I consider the best. You may want to study this very carefully if you ever venture to Italy.

I pledge my allegiance to Gelato.

1. Biscottino
Oddly enough, it’s not quite gelato. The sign always says “Gelato non gelato,” but two gelatos in a sentence means gelato to me. It’s a lot creamier than the actual gelato, pretty much like a heavy whipped cream. What makes it really delectable is the little crunchy cookies in it. It is oreo ice cream, Italian style. So therefore, better.

2. Walnut
Sounds a little strange, but I swear it is a pleasant surprise. It is the same color of walnuts, kind of helps support the idea of minimal artificial flavoring. Since it’s cold and creamy, I’m not going to say it tastes like a walnut, but I think the reason I like it so much is because it reminds me of when I used to get cinnamon bun batter ice cream (before they discontinued it </3) at Cold Stone and put walnuts in it.

Pit stop in Venice for Pistachio.

3. Pistachio
All I think of in my head when I request this is my Dad screaming through the phone to request this when I go to Rita’s. Rita’s doesn’t always have it, however. Italy does. It is their staple flavor, so much so that McDonald’s has a Pistachio McFlurry. Walnut isn’t quite a walnut but Pistachio is most positively a pistachio. I didn’t think it was possible, but they made a frozen creamy treat salty to perfection. The tiny little grains of ground pistachio aren’t even bothersome. The rich green color is just as natural as the Sicilian taste of the expensive ass nuts. It is my official go-to flavor.

4. Settevelli
This is a magical concoction paying homage to a cake like dessert of the same name. It is a rich dark chocolatey base with what tasted like a sort of whipped cream, but not quite marshmallow, swirl. Definitely my go-to flavor when I needed a quick chocolate fix.

5. Cannoli Cream
Hello? Need I say more?

6. Cinnamon
I actually got this on accident, but what a beautiful disaster it was! So the girl’s like “wanna try this gross rice cherry flavor?” So I was like, YEAH. And I hated it. So I asked for pistachio then a sample of cinnamon, so she just slopped it on my cone. My nerves immediately shot through my face. I thought it was going to be the first gelato cone I would throw out. One lick, however, and I was in love. THIS is where ColdStone modeled my favorite ice cream flavor after: Cinnamon Bun Batter. I don’t know if Turkey Hill has a version of this, but I am surely going to die without it in the States.

7. Cookies
This delicacy is a rarity; so much so that the only place I’ve found it was the infamous “Old Bridge” right near the Vatican. Appropriate; this is a God of gelatos. Not quite chocolate chip and still not chocolate chip cookie dough, but it’s my favorite part of a cookie making experience: the dough. Straight, delectable, buttery floury frothy dough. In gelato form, which I’m assuming means no raw eggs. Acceptable NOW?

King of Gelato. Old Bridge <3

8. Ricotta and Pistachio
Also only experienced thus far at Old Bridge, this doesn’t leave much the imagination. I already explained the way pistachio is a blend of chunks and salt to make an oddly sweet desert. Now stir it up with some delicious ricotta that I was under the impression only the South Beach Diet noted as a scrumptious treat, and you have yet another Holy Relic of desserts.

9. Cappuccino
My favorite ice cream in the states is coffee, but for some reason I was never truly enticed into choosing coffee gelato. Perhaps because the name is just not Italian enough. Cappuccino certainly steps up to the plate. It doesn't quite have the coffee bite like the self named flavor. It's much more creamy, directly simulating the experience of drinking the foamy coffee concoction with triple the calories.

10. Tiramisu
The Italian dessert that, if not made right, will get you drunk in a quite unenjoyable way isn't just at our favorite 24-hour bakery. In gelatz form, it is not layered, but rather a fully combined experience. When you lick into it, you can certianly be fooled into thinking that it actually has a cake like consistency. And no fork needed.

Pizza, Lava, and Eroticism

These are a few of my favorite things! All can obviously be found in Italy.

Italy has so much to offer that traveling during this module only includes different cities in Italy. It's THAT good.

So we hopped on TrenItalia (marketing plug) last Friday and headed to Naples. No sleeping necessary (aside from my hangover) for three hours on a sunlit train. Very pleasant. We had basically one intention there and that was to have the Mother of all Pizzas. Ever.

Unlike one of my travel companion's very ill thought out plan to eat 5 salami sandwiches on the train before we got there, I prepared myself in every way possible to taste what pizza was meant to taste like.

We arrived in front of the famed L'antica Pizzeria da Michele where Julia Roberts ate what was probably the first carb of her life while starring in Eat, Pray, Love before the crowd even started to congregate. Somehow they did manage to fit our own personal crowd of 16.

There are three sizes of pizza: Normal, Medium, and Maxi.

First bite of Heaven.

Go big or go home, right? Needless to say… I got the maxi. When in Rome, or Naples.

It was absolutely delicious and though it was hard to stuff it all in my stomach, I did it. I don’t regret a single bite.

Outside of the doors, slicing through the crowd of people, lay before us the beautiful and romantic Naples. Less historic, making it much more lively, we took in every little piece of architecture and culture of this pizza-inventing, original-colonized city. From the tall project buildings to the spiderweb-esque bullet punctures on the windows, it was hard not to fall in love.

Everything I dreamed of... (?)

…the pizza was worth it.

Thank goodness it was never our intention to spend the night there or I may not have been writing this post.

The trains in Naples and surrounding areas work a little differently than all other trains I have ever taken. Depending on where you begin and where you intend on ending determines the amount you pay for your train ticket. I guess it’s intercity rather than interborough, so it makes sense.

We conveniently were able to get to Sorrento for 4 euro and the longest trainride since Venice. About an hour of people-watching and hoping the scenery would get better than our first image of the Almafi Coast.

Sorrento on a cloudy day is still beautiful.

And by scenery I meant the natural layout of the city, not the boys who blatantly wore girls pants and had 80s style, side shaven-frontal floppy hairstyles. I found it very strange that it was literally a very unique style that seemed to en vogue for the Napolitano boys, and no other boys in all of Italy.

When I finished dissecting the mops on the heads of these boys I got to look out the window and discover the landscape had turned from overly-urbanized Naples to hilly Sorrento with steep peaks over calm waters. It was absolutely beautiful.

The city (town?) itself was adorable. It looked as if it was built by Walt Disney; cutely narrow streets, shops galore, and just an all around peacefully fattening feel.

Not to mention Sorrento is famed for being the inventors of the strong, fruity, Italian liquor Limoncello. Perhaps the whole reason for the city being so lush and beautiful was to keep their lemon growth at its peak. Head sized lemons are not something one can simply grow in infertile and polluted soil.

View from Vesuvius.

We went from life and growth in one town to death and destruction in the next. You guessed it: Pompeii. What’s a little Italian historical excursion without some sort of dead civilization? Before we could see the dead itself, we saw the monster responsible.

And what a monster it was! After taking a trolley up the winding Vesuvian streets, which my theatrical friend described very cleverly yet falsely as a homage to the mythological serpent of Pompeii, we got to the top. And by top I mean, the highest point they would take us before we had to walk.

You don’t know how out of shape you are until you attempt to climb a Volcano. All the while, there was a tiny part of me just begging for it to erupt to put me out of my misery.

By the time I reached the top, I had whined to so many people that I made new friends and I had felt every single bite of pizza I had taken within the last 4 weeks.

So worth it though; even atop a Volcano, you couldn’t help but appreciate the beauty of everything we overlooked.

Pompeii with the quiet monster behind her.

Even the dead civilization.

This civilization, Pompeii of course, is always publicized as the poor innocent city that naively situated themselves at the foot of a Volcano and fell victim to its fury.

Well, I have my own theory. What isn’t publicized much until you get there is the fact that they were crazy nymphomaniacs. All over the walls are elaborately painted frescos of the Italian version of the Kama Sutra.

In my theory, possibly shared with the radical Catholics of the world, that they were probably soiled with unexpected pregnancies and STDs so God was just like, ya know what guys, enough.

enter Mt. Vesuvius

Perhaps this was me in my last life.

The main topic of conversation was: What the hell would you do if you saw that mountain explode in Volcanic ash and molten rock? After weighing the possibilities of attempting to create an imaginary sled, maxing out a lifetime of adrenaline sprinting away, and hiding as deep underground as one could possibly dig before it hit, we all decided we would just lay down and let it happen.

And now we have an excavated city of ruins and frescos and pottery and clay people in positions of terror. And eroticism.

A trip that covered at least three of the deadly sins: lust, gluttony, and vanity.

I only eat crust in Italy

Food consumption in Rome is practically unconscious.

It's not because it's provided for us and we eat it, thankful to be fed in a strange living complex. We are actually given what we in the orphanage like to call 'food stamps' in which we are to budget our meals for the week around supermarket groceries or various restaurants that accept them. They are actually vouchers and if not used correctly, you run out in three hours.

We have all been using them very wisely at the pizza restaurant that is literally across the street appropriately named Mondo.

If I ate it any more than I do, I would be a grande come il monda.

The place's full name is actually Monda Arancina;
literally "Rice Ball World."
I also have no idea who took this photo
but the credit is obviously not mine

All in all, I think I've done a pretty good job limiting the amount of pizza I actually consume during the week. I mean, I can't always resist a quick and balanced meal; starch, vegetable, and dairy all layered out between adorably labeled slices of carry-out paper.

When you go in the restaurant, it is even more unlikely that you'll be able to resist. The long slabs of pizza with outrageous combinations of toppings (the only egg I've seen in Italy was on a slice one day) that they cut to whichever size you want with little scissors.

It's like an art museum. And the intrigue doesn't stop with the pizza. It continues with the rice balls (le arancinas), mozzerella corozza that would put mozzerella sticks anywhere to shame, and donuts as big as my head that I've somehow, to date, resisted.

I love New York pizza as much as I assume I will love my future children. But this pizza... is so good, I can't leave any specifically weighed and paid for ounce unconsumed.

And I also don't want to waste a cent of my cherished and scant meal voucher.

Florence the Classy Way

Venice treated us quite nicely, and saw us off with a sun shiny farewell. We spent the day continuing perusing the shops and backpacking the city. When we tired of that it was early in relation to the time which we were supposed to catch our train. We decided to head to the station anyway considering it was so close to the water.

Greetings from Venice!

We stripped ourselves of our exterior winter shells and soaked in the sun along a vacant Venetian dock with a few bottles of Bacardi Breezers. It was such a picturesque moment that we had strangers taking our pictures.

Don't be surprised if you see us on a brochure when you travel to Venice.

So after a little unprotected sun bathing, we grabbed our jackets and headed to the 4 hour train ride.

Considering this one took place during daylight hours, I was much more comfortable with taking a little nap; a night in Florence called for it.

We got to our hostel fast, and lucked out again when we realized there was a room fit for 9 that we were in. It was a perfect secure sleeping situation that was just begging us to go out and enjoy the night life.

We first had dinner though, after being completely famished due to a mere slice of pizza in Venice an approximate 8 hours earlier. I don't think we've skipped an offer for an Italian dinner since being in the country. The best part about the location in which we chose on this occasion: FREE BREAD.

To my American audience unfamiliar with the European Union, a little cultural note: when you're in a restaurant, water is not free regardless of how many perpetually flowing fountains you see on the streets, and the pre-meal bread is also not free. Lay a finger on it and you're paying 4 euro.

We roll deep. Taken by Patricia, missing Patricia.

Like I said.. except here!

I split a Caprese Salad (Dad, yours is still better) and indulged in tortellini bolognese.

As girls do, at the conclusion of the meal we took a group bathroom break. There were only two toilets available; one marked men and one marked women. My logic tells me, why leave the men's vacant when there are none in sight? So I used it. Karma got me good.

I knew I had an audience of three friends waiting outside the door, so I wasn't embarrassed to be talking. Until the fell silent.

One of them is notorious for taking very unexpected pictures and recording at inopportune moments. I immediately screamed "Are you f*#%ing recording this?"

Giggles ensued, and a "no."

Then I asked for something that, in this situation, was almost more embarrassing than asking for cocaine. I'll let you use your imagination. To this request I heard more giggles and a "I think you should stop talking now."

So I did. I retreated my little stall to find out that some guy was waiting for his appropriately labeled door the entire time.

Patricia Holliday original photo: fake David.

This is why Florence hates Americans. Just glad to know that I've still got it in me to be one!

So we payed our check and left, full from free bread and expensive pasta and ready to dance it off.


First stop, David.

We were all under the impression that Michelangelo's David was the great statue standing unprotected from elements and vandalism in an open square. Out of nine of us, only one was smart enough to let the rest of us know the real one was in a museum nearby.

It was still very beautiful to look at (above the waist...)

Jackie Herro photo: the Duomo.

We had connections to someone who is studying in Florence which made our night out run very smoothly; we didn't have to play guessing games, he took us to the bars that we would want to be in. The last of these bars was next to the massive and impressive Duomo whose entrance line during the day is overwhelmingly long. It is still very impressive, so much so that it is pretty much the face of Florence.

All is well that ends well.

The next day we all managed to get up and ready with all of our belongings and take to the leather of the city. Markets of leather galore! It felt and smelt like heaven. We would spend literally an hour at all the [reputable] stands, feeling and sniffing the wallets and belts and bags.

Somehow, I walked away from all the bags. But I did snag a belt. talked him down to 10 euro, seemed worth it.

mmm, carbohydrate and sugary goodness.

The real treasure of this trip was the breakfast that we had. The term breakfast itself is as American as it gets; they really don't do that here. But we found it: a utopia of pancakes, omelettes, and even burgers with what else but the St John's game playing on TV. Literally an absolutely to-die-for taste of home.

The walk back to the train had a much less beautiful departure scene. And by much less beautiful, I'm referring to the trees literally infested with shrieking bats. I am sure that this was a scene straight from the outer circles of Hell. It was creepy, but obviously still fascinating.

Nomelet with home fries. heaven.

When we got into the train station, it was also a lot less welcoming than Venice's and bordered on being as eccentric as New York's. For instance: I laughed for a good 2 hours about a man who rolled in on his roller blades, completely nonchalant, spinning and twirling on the information line.

Who am I kidding, I'm still laughing.

The train ride home was a breeze; no assigned seats so naturally all nine of us made home in a single car which no one else wanted to join in since we were so loud and gossipy. Perks of Being American.

All in all, the moral of the story is that all roads lead to Rome; still my favorite city... behind New York.<3

Flavian Amphitheatre

Il Coloseo

or for you really uncultured readers (...kidding) the Colosseum!

Probably the face of ancient Roman history and the infamous setting (reconstructed in Hollywood studios) of Gladiator, the Colosseum is just a a short metro stop or 40 minute walk from my campus. And site of today's art class.

all this art I may be better off switching majors.

So anyway, man what a sight. I'm almost at a loss for words. Such a monument that everyone in the world can recognize and hardly anyone knows the truth behind it. That's what I'm for!

Built by the Flavian family (hence the name) in the time of Giulio Cesare (Julius Caesar guys, keep up) it was a stadium meant for several different types of entertainment. Of course, as we see demonstrated by Russel Crowe, it was for the gladiator games. People would line up for tickets, just as they do at any of our stadiums, except these tickets were pieces of bone engraved with their seat number.

Sports events are absolutely timeless.

Descendant of the mighty lion that once fought in this arena.

So aside from the spectacle of having wild beasts of the orient devour or be slaughtered by an ill fated gladiator, the amphitheatre could be filled with water and set a stage for naval battle reenactments. Obviously, the more famous of the routes of entertainment involves blood.

All of these forms of entertainment were part of the political movement in Rome: panem et circensis. Basically, if you feed them and entertain them they'll shut up. Works for people of all time.

The ampitheater has lasted over 2,000 years and has been used the entire time. After Emperor Constantine outlawed the Gladiator games in the 4th century AD, the ampitheater became a church, and later, when the empire completely fell, a quarry. What goes unnoticed is the fact that this collosal building (which in fact is not named for itself but for the collosal statue of Nero that once stood outside of it's walls) was once covered in marble. To cover a counter top in marble today costs a year of tuition; now imagine this immense stadium decked out in white stone. It must have been really incredible to watch it become blood splattered.

a reconstruction of the "stage" with a
view of the underlying passages.

How it stands today, it is almost completely void of all marble due to the removal of it after it was abandoned. It looks like it's completely crumbling, but what takes from the scenery, but in all fairness adds to the memorial of it, is that they are reconstructing/ preserving what they can.

Though I would have loved to be under the ground to see where the wild beasts were before they were unleashed, it is off limits.

Roman history is so vastly different from ours that it is actually very comparable. It's not very hard to recognize that we did not create the idea of pillars, but the Romans did. We took their "Senate" and even their "Capitol Hill" name (Rome was founded on 7 hills; the first of them called Capitoline.)

The fact that we still study antiquity shows that we learn from them; from their advancements, such as the arch and toga wearing statues, and from their mistakes, such as empirical leaders and mutiny (Et tu Brute?)

Even without paying the 12 euro and entering the Colosseum, there are literally thousands of opportunities to get a feeling for the Roman history that literally oozes from every square.

For instance, the very square which is the home to the popular study abroad student bar is the very spot where Caesar was killed.

That's something to drink to.

Roma: A History

I didn't mean to skimp out on my first Roman post. It has certainly been a very eventful first few days. With eventfulness comes exhaustion. But I'm here on the day of the Sabbath to try to prove a little more insight into what is going on and why this place is a historical as well as contemporary Utopia.

I took a little midnight stroll the first night. I was too tired to write, but WHEN IN ROME.

I'm definitely going to be using that expression in a lot of instances during this next chapter of blogging in order to dry my humor out a little more... don't be surprised.

Anyway! The historical tour was reminiscent of my Paris art class without access to any museum. The entirety of Rome is a museum. Even the lesser known parks and piazzas hold such an ancient history that America can't even count down to.

NOT THAT I AM KNOCKING AMERICA- I would never. I still love you, Lady Liberty.

But my God is Rome beautiful. I think I may have used the term Nirvana in an instance in my travels in France. This, with the dirt cheap delicacies of pizza and gelato and the beautiful architecture and people, is truly Nirvana.

Piazza Navona

I walked to a bar and came across the most beautiful fountain I could ever dream up. It is such a surreal experience.

So this fountain that I speak of is located in Piazza de Navona. Before I get into that, let's get really deep into it.

What is a Piazza, Tara?

Funny you should ask! The only Piazza I was exposed to my entire life was Mike, and was on the opposing side. But here, the Piazzas are on my side.

They are literally squares. Not in the geometric sense, but squares of shops and bars and restuarants, all self-contained. What I didn't realize was these piazzas were build in the shape of ovals because they are ontop of what used to be stadiums... you know, for chariot races and what not. Think Russel Crowe in Gladiator.

If you're a DeVincenzo, that's no problem since dad watches it every other day...

But now, the stadium is a vast field of merchants, street performers, and gelato.

Getting the sense of Nirvana yet?

The Nile's on the right and the Ganges to the left.

Let me tell you about the fountain: This fountain that really isn't talked about, having been trumped by the Trevi, is representative of the world. Romans liked to use men and nude women to represent any idea they can. It really does work.

In this sculpted fountain, Fontana dei Quattro Fiumi, the four major rivers of the world are represented. The first is the Nile which, at the time, had no uncovered source. Therefore, the man representing the Nile's face is veiled.

Clever, eh?

Next to him is the Ganges River, representative of Asia. Between the two is a lion, the common animal of the two continents.

Our familiar Western Rivers and Italian Stallion.

Spin to the other side and we have the more familiar Western World. One man represents the Plate River of the Americas and the other represents Europe's Danube. Between these two rivers, is the horse which is common on both of our continents.

Pure brilliance, Bernini.

Leader in the period or Baroque art, his little materpieces are still talked about and studied. Our tour guide said there was some newly thought up legends concerning the Fountain of Four Rivers, but these are the forreal meanings.

In Italians I Always Trust.

Then to the Pantheon; not to be confused with the Parthenon. The Parthenon means something else that I don't remember because we weren't there. But the Pantheon, the Roman version, is a temple for the Gods.

Hadrian's Pantheon. Hadrian was basically
Rome's version of Louis XIV; don't correct me if I'm
wrong, I'm still learning.

The spectacular things about this building is that it was not only build under the reign of Emperor Hadrian, but he was actually the architect of it. Considered to be a poor man's profession, he enscribed on it the name of a famous architect Grippa as credentials. However, it was impossible for it to have been him; during his life span, the type of stone used to construct the temple was not in existence.

buuuuusted.

Another interesting thing about the Pantheon for all you math freaks, it was the first building built with a dome; in order to support the dome ceiling, it is 4 feet thick stone. The entire edifice is perfect in geometry. A perfect sphere could fit inside. The only means of ventilation in this gigantic sphere is the massive hole in the ceiling.

I sell out at churches, I call that getting dome.

What if it rains?

Wonderful question! The brilliant Hadrian considered this and made tiny holes in slightly slanted floor to serve as drainage.

... For a country this is almost completely Catholic today is is quite ironic that there would be such emphasis on various gods.

FUNNY YOU SHOULD MAKE THAT POINT!

Although Italy is its own country today, that only became so about 125 years ago. Before then, it was broken into several different country states.

The Vatican (which I have no yet explored but will be doing so very soon) is still it's own which the Pope is the leader of. Emperor, president, prime minister...all rolled in one very Holy Man. When something happens inside the walls, the Italian government has influence unless invited specifically by the Vatican. weird, huh? You thought the Pope just prayed all day. But he's the Pope so he runs the entire Catholic community of the world. His power is pretty serious.

My mind was completely saturated with new knowledge after that tour. So naturally, I brought it back down to an even keel with a bottle of Nero D'Avalo at dinner.

When in Rome...