A Whole New World

I envisioned Morocco in my mind as a slightly less glamorous version of Aladdin. Well, at least as far as looks go. But what I didn't realize at all when I booked my 22 Euro round trip flight to Fez was that I would be entering a world wholly unfamiliar to anything I have ever known in my entire life. Part of me feels at a loss of words to describe in totality the initial dose of culture shock I felt when I first arrived, but it was by far the most mind-altering and monumental experience I have encountered in the 20 years that I have lived so far.

It was the first time that I found myself immersed within a culture that was different from my own in almost every aspect. The people, the language, the religion, the type of lifestyle - EVERYTHING was different. But by no means different in a bad way. Morocco is indeed much poorer than the U.S and the standard of living is also much lower, however; I was surprised to discover that the quality of life could be considered more or less the same.

This sort of revelation I expected from a country like Italy where, despite higher unemployment rates and lower standards for career advancements and high salaries, the people nonetheless seem genuinely happier than a lot of Americans. But in Morocco, I did not expect to confront a people who were so unbelievably hospitable, friendly, and happy to just ... be.

Personally, I couldn't communicate very well with anyone considering the fact that I don't speak Arabic or French, but I was lucky enough to be accompanied by a friend who has been living there since August and has in many ways become very integrated and adapted to the type of lifestyle there. He recounted innumerable occasions in which he would be confronted by random people on the streets, strike up a conversation, and after 10 minutes have exchanged numbers and received a mandatory invitation to dine at their house anytime he felt like stopping by.

Now this is not to say that Morocco doesn't have its fair share of problems - poverty, being incessantly hassled to buy some sort of product, widespread attempts to rip-off consumers to name a few - but every place has its pros and cons.

I was even more struck by the influence that Islam has had on the cities I visited. I have never been to a place where the majority of the population is Muslim and by this I was overwhelmed in every sense of the word. I simply didn't know what to expect. The style of dress is very conservative, everyday phrases are infused with Muslim blessings, and bars and alcohol are scarce as they are forbidden by the Islamic codes. Moreover, the role that women played in society and the overall lack of choices and opportunities that most of them have was inconceivable.

But getting to hear the call to prayer five times a day was a phenomenon that was both incredibly bewildering and beautiful at the same time. We would be sitting on the terrace of our hostel watching the sun set and suddenly, around 8:00 the call would begin. The Muslim song would echo through the city in waves, bouncing off of the nearby mountains, and reverberating throughout every building reaching your ears just in time to send shivers up and down your entire body. Everything seemed to stop still in time. It left me with an extraordinary sensation of tranquility as if everything were at peace in the world. I grew up going to Church for countless years, but never before in my life did I witness firsthand the ability of a religion to captivate the hearts and minds of an entire population in a matter of seconds.

I was left with an unquenchable thirst to be thrown into other places and cultures as equally diverse as this one. It only took two cities in one country to instill within me an indistinguishable sense of exhilaration, awe, and wonder. I realized just how large the world truly is and how small I am in comparison. I have since been left with the itching and inexorable desire to come back after I return to the U.S. to finish my last year at school. To come back to Italy, Morocco, and the millions of other places the world has to offer. I have dangled my feet in its waters and now I want nothing more than to be entirely submerged.

Street view from our hostel in Fez

Fez

Street in Chefchaouen

Chefchaouen

View of Chefchaouen from the terrace

Chefchaouen

Delirium and Disneyland

Almost every detail of our trip to Brussels and Amsterdam was planned out. Flights, trains, the addresses of our hostels, directions to and from our hostels, every bar we would go to our first night in Brussels, and even how we would spend the awkward four hours between our arrival in Brussels from Amsterdam at midnight and our flight back to Bologna at the God-forsaken hour of 6:00 AM. At least such were our thoughts until the tram that was supposed to take us to our hostel in Amsterdam suddenly crashed into a Mercedes. I was jolted a bit from my seat only to be greeted by the too tranquil voice of the tram conductor: "I'm sorry, there has been an accident." And basta così.That was all he had to say. To add to the chaos, the specialty beer I had just bought in Brussels exploded all over the white shirt I was wearing. I was not a happy camper at the moment, but before long we had begun musing in and out various streets, buildings, and coffeeshops. Three hours later we finally made it to our hostel to check in.

Although I must say that up until that point things had gone pretty smoothly. Our first night in Brussels turned out to be a huge success and in less than 24 hours, I was sufficiently introduced to several of Belgium's most prized possessions: Waffles, Beer and Chocolate. And aside from a few initial minor mishaps, I couldn't have better things to say about Amsterdam.

For me, it was like a Disney World for adults. I am in complete agreement with my "Let's Go Europe 2011 Student Travel Guide" when it says "Yes, marijuana is legal here, but there is so much more here than drugs and tulips." (And I didn't even get to see the tulips when I went). Not only was the city drop-dead gorgeous with its cobblestone streets, miniature canals and picturesque style of Dutch architecture, but it was also the most biker-friendly city I have ever seen in my entire life.

This may seem like something a bit lack-luster to emphasize considering the fact that there are indeed innumerable places in the U.S. and throughout the world where bikes are a common find. However, Amsterdam is the super-capital of this type of crunchy,“go-green” lifestyle. They really aren't joking when they warn you about getting run over by a bicycle there. In Amsterdam, bikes are not inferior to cars, but instead give a new meaning to the term “right of way.” Don’t think for one second that a biker will slow down for a pedestrian without a red light or a good reason to stop. Every road that can be accessed by car, is also just as bike-friendly. Bike lanes (and I'm talking extremely legitimate bike lanes) are as natural a thing as riding the subway in New York City. The bike lines in Amsterdam aren’t dinky little side-walks meant to be shared by walkers, runners, and the like and are instead fully equipped with stop-lights, lanes, and a pace of traffic that is high-speed and anything but a lazy ride through the park. But it's reputation as the cycling capital of the world isn’t the only thing that made Amsterdam such a memorable place for me. More importantly, it was the type of lifestyle that it inherently promotes. A lifestyle that is healthy for the environment, the body and the soul.

On our second night in Amsterdam, after a long and exhausting day of exploration, we found ourselves caught in the middle of a rainstorm at 10 or 11 at night with a 20 to 25 minute bike ride to make back to our hostel. But even under less-than-ideal circumstances, the ride home proved to be one of the most magical moments I could pinpoint during the entire trip. The cool and slightly icy breeze whipped my hair back as I pedaled through beautifully lit streets and canals unable to stop myself from thinking that I could really get used to this type of lifestyle.

Moreover, getting to visit exhibits such as the Anne Frank House and the Van Gogh Museum made the whole experience that much more incredible. We even found ourselves neck deep in the middle of a huge Pillow fight that occupied the whole of Dam Square.

And even after delirious last night in Belgium preceded by a full day in Amsterdam, I found myself wishing I had just a little bit more time to spend there. I say delirious because being the cheap, poor college students that we are, we decided not to book a hostel for our last night in Belgium since our flight back to Bologna was so early in the morning. Instead, we booked a late train back from Amsterdam that landed us in Brussels around midnight with 4 hours to kill until our train back to the airport. We spent those four long hours in one of Brussels' most distinguished bars: Delirium. We were five extremely exhausted girls surrounded by over 2,000 different types of beer. After sampling a liter of Cactus-flavored beer (in a glass shaped like a boot), we spent most of the time chilling and people watching. In hindsight maybe it wasn’t the most ideal situation, but, it was an experience nonetheless. When we finally got back to Bologna around 11, I practically slept for the next day and a half. But it was worth every second of time I was able to spend traveling.

Street in Brussels

Belgian Waffle!

Brussels

Chocolate!!!!

Me on my bike! :)

Pillow fight in Dam Square

Iamsterdam Sign

Tram accident

Heineken Experience

Pretty canals and bicycles

I was Enchanted to Meet You

When I initially began thinking about where I wanted to travel when I came abroad, I knew Spain was high on my list of places to go. However, I had never really given much thought to exactly where I wanted to go. I wish I had the time to spend months exploring Spain because there are just so many incredible cities to visit. But I decided on Madrid shortly after discovering that Taylor Swift would be performing there as a part of her 2011 European Tour.

I know, seeing a Taylor Swift concert isn't appealing to a lot of people. Her music isn't especially extraordinary in many senses, but she is able to do one thing better than almost any other artist of her genre. Through her music she can tap into every stream of emotion and crazy feeling that almost every girl experiences growing up. Whether it be anger, heart-break, life's simple pleasures, or the exciting rush of finding love I can guarantee you that there is a Taylor Swift song to match. And for those of us who have fallen shamelessly in love with her songs, seeing her in concert would be the absolute climax. With these opportunities on the table, I booked a flight to Madrid and bought a ticket to see Taylor Swift live.

I ended up flying to Madrid with my friend Alexa and we were lucky enough to have been able to stay with her friends in their apartment which made budgeting for the trip much easier. We also met up with our friend Becky, another fellow Taylor Swift junky who would be my date to the concert.

The city of Madrid itself was a Spanish metropolitan beauty. The buildings were tall, white, and architecturally designed in a manner I had yet been exposed to. Although Bologna is a pretty big city, it is nothing compared to the size of Madrid. I had forgotten what it felt like to be in a city of that size. I'm used to relying on walking to get me just about everywhere I need to go, and in Madrid we quickly learned that becoming familiar with the metro system was an invaluable tool to getting around the city. Although we also did our fair share of walking as we ambled throughout the streets exploring the vastness of the city.

Among the many sights to see we visited Plaza Mayor, toured the Reina Sofia Museum, ate numerous tapas, chilled in the enormous Parque de Retiro, saw La Puerta del Sol, and enjoyed being exposed to a culture I had yet to confront.

Plaza Mayor

Me in Plaza Mayor

We of course had to get Churros.

Amidst the blur and excitement that comes with being thrown into a new city (and for the first time in my life feeling strangely out of place because people weren't speaking Italian), the night of the Taylor Swift concert approached and I could barely contain my excitement. We scored killer seats on the "pista" for a price we would have easily had to pay three times as much for in the States. I sang (aka screamed) along to every song and the rush of energy and elation I felt couldn't have been topped. I was completely and utterly enchanted. The Taylor Swift high persisted for hours after the concert ended and I cannot tell you how many times I found myself thinking "I can't believe I am here right now."

Me and Becky at the Taylor Swift concert!!!!!

We were SO close ...

Taylor and her Sparkly guitar ...

PAELLA!!

"Guernica" at the Museo de Reina Sofia

My first trip outside of Italy not only left me with a feeling of nostalgia for the Spanish language (which I have almost entirely forgotten since I last studied it in high school) but also made me realize how comfortable I had become speaking Italian on an every day basis. It was the first time that I was overcome with the sensation of missing Bologna, my new home. Because despite how wonderful my trip to Madrid had been, I couldn't wait to set foot back in Bologna.

Carnevale a Venezia

I had barely been in Italy a week and a half before I decided to book a trip to Venice during Carnivale with the other Americans in my program who have since become some of my best friends. All of the students in the year long program warned us that we should book our hostel ASAP if we wanted to find a place that was relatively inexpensive before everything filled up. We huddled around our laptops frantically researching hostels in and around Venice, praying that we would be able to find SOMETHING.

Before I knew it, the trip was booked. I could barely contain my excitement. We would be going to Venice.

Throughout my younger years I had always had these wild dreams of one day visiting Venice. I would create pictures in my mind of this fantastical city on the sea that I had only ever seen in photos. I even attempted to make drawings or paintings that would capture my conception of this beautiful city that had lingered in my thoughts since childhood. I don't know exactly what possessed me to have such a fascination with Venice - a fascination that persisted with the same vehemence despite the countless times I had been told by others that it was smelly and overrated. Their judgments fell on deaf ears. And now I would finally have the chance to judge for myself.

While it is indeed true that Venice is often wrought with rainy and less than desirable weather, the beauty of the city on a pretty day is worth a year of stormy weather. And we lucked out with a weekend of beautiful and sunny weather. It was by far my favorite place I have visited outside of Bologna thus far. Venice surpassed every adolescent expectation I had ever possessed of how gorgeous it would be. I was in paradise. I found myself meandering through the side-streets and bridges that wove through the canals of all sizes with one of those silly grins on my face that are nearly impossible to wipe off because I was in such awe.

I came away with some amazing pictures, but they can hardly do the city justice.

Getting to spend a weekend in Venezia during Carnevale - essentially the Italian version of Mardi Gras but so much better - made my time there that much more of an experience. The costumes were incredible and indescribable in so many ways as if to mirror the marvel of the city itself.

Me in front of St. Marco.

We also ventured to the island of Murano, which is where all of the famous Venetian glass is produced, and were able to see first-hand how the glass is made.

The making of a Venetian glass horse.

The final product - it literally took less than 5 minutes. Incredible.

Post-face painting! During Carnevale Italian art students swarm the piazzas to paint the faces of anyone who is brave enough to trust them. Their work was amazing.