About time passing.

I'm wine tasting in the cellar of the oldest building in Florence. It dates back to the Roman Empire and used to be a Roman Amphitheater. As I am listening to someone talk about the difference between a denominazione di origine controllata e garantita Chianti wine and a denominazione di origine controllata Chianti wine (which surprisingly is a lot less complicated than it sounds) the realization that I am where I am slowly creeps up on me.

There's nothing like walking through streets that have been virtually unchanged for centuries to remind you how small you are in this universe. Living in San Diego a house that is fifty years old is considered ancient. The house I am living in right now is older than the United States. Literally every brick here has a story. It's overwhelming.

It really puts things in perspective for you. Our lives go by in the blink of an eye compared to the time line of history.

And nothing makes the passing of time more apparent than walking through these perfectly preserved medieval streets, as though centuries ago were just yesterday.

Sure it's discouraging, but it's also empowering. Like you can't waste a minute. You have to walk out your door and enjoy every day like tomorrow will be centuries away. I am aware that's such a trite and repetitive saying. But sometimes worn out statements are that way for a reason.

And the Italians all seem to perfectly portray this attitude. The looming future is ever present, even in a city frozen in time. But the Italians make time to enjoy life. You can see it in their everyday lives. Eating is a full event and is a big part of the day. It's not just a task that has to be completed to ensure survival. It's a celebration of life. It is a subtle declaration of their refusal to let life pass them by without living.

Last night I went out to eat with my roommates Tom and Chase to this restaurant run by two musical brothers Lorenzo and Frederico Fattorini. The restaurant was empty and after we were finished eating one of the brothers Frederico came up to us and asked us where the girls were tonight. As if they heard us, a big group of the girls we go to school with and were planning on meeting up with later walked in the door. The brothers announced "oh the girls are here!" came back with wine for everyone and sat down at the tables with us. Lorenzo asked me if I wanted red or white wine. I told him I was alright, but he refused let me go thirsty and said "in Italy everyone drinks with company."

Who would I be to come over to this country and not drink red wine with the musical brothers? A bad guest that's who.

We sat around the empty restaurant and talked with the brothers for quite some time. Lorenzo put on Brazilian Pop music with a woman singing in Italian. I told him about Ricardo and the crash course I got in Brazilian Pop music. He said "Bossa Nova is like the rhythm of life." So we listened into the night.

And that's what I'm talking about. It's the idea of living in the moment and being aware, but not so concerned that time is passing by. Acknowledging that you are an insignificant speck and reveling in the great fortune you have of living. It's not depressing. It's brilliant.

I wouldn't trade these nights for anything.

***

So I am off to Siena to go eat with the nice Italian lady I met at the Hot Springs and her family. Or at least I think I am. Like I said, nobody speaks English except for me. Great stuff.

The view from Piazza Michelangelo.

More here: http://www.flickr.com/photos/remycox/

Petriolo Sulphur Hot Springs and Couch Surfing.

Good morning (or night) everyone! Depending on where you are I suppose...

I am sitting in my living room. It's Sunday and the bells of the Duomo are going crazy. Yesterday I went to the natural hot springs in Petriolo Tuscany with my roommate Ryan and the Florence Couch Surfers. The smell of sulphur on my skin is only faintly detectable and exponentially less offensive than yesterday. If you are looking to authentically recreate the smell, leave some eggs out for a few days. Not long enough for them to go rotten, but just long enough for you to think,"oh wow, those are some stinky eggs."

Got it? Good.

But I need to go a bit further back before we arrive in Petriolo...

I had my first couchsurfing event on Thursday night when I met a bunch of Couch Surfers at a vegetarian restaurant in Florence. If you don't know what couchsurfing.com is, it's a world wide hospitality community where travelers spend the night in the homes of people that live in the places the travelers are visiting. It is a cultural exchange and is intended not to provide free accommodations for travelers (although it does,) but to present an opportunity to meet and learn from the people who live in that city and know it best.

Are you skeptical yet? I'll admit, it's a pretty outrageous thing to hear for the first time. Stay at someone's house who you have never met in your life? I know I know, not a high percentage move there.

But after eating dinner with these people and getting to spend some time with them, I am convinced otherwise. It gives you an authentic experience of what life is actually like somewhere when you travel, not a recreation of familiar comforts from the place you came from. Anyway, I met so many great people (some who only spoke Italian) at the dinner and am convinced that this is the only way to travel. After we finished eating, we walked around Florence for a bit. We wandered around the city talking, laughing and sharing stories the whole way. We ended up at The William Pub in the Santa Croce area, a British pub exactly as you would picture one. I ordered my first beer in a pub. I was really cool. Then half of the group went home and the remaining surfers (myself included) went club hopping. Two or three hours later, I walked home through the cold streets smelling like a cigarette from all the second hand smoke. It was really really cool.

On Friday I went to the Galleria dell'Accademia, home of Michelangelo's David. It's Sunday morning, and my neck still hurts from looking up at him. If I stared at his torso for long enough, my eyes would play tricks on me and I would swear he was moving. If you have a Bucket List (things to do and see before you die,) make sure David is on it. I know he will really appreciate it.

That night I went out to eat at a family run restaurant called Trattoria Contadino with my new friend Ricardo from Couch Surfing. He said the gnocchi there is the best he has ever had, and I agreed with him. We talked about when he lived in San Francisco and how I was going there when I finish school in Italy, truffles and how unique they taste and his favorite type of music, Brazilian Pop Music. After the dinner we went to his house and drank wine and listened to Brazilian pop music for hours. He was born in Brazil and would translate the lyrics from Portuguese to English for me as the songs played. He was so excited about the music and would point out all of the musical style in it while it played. I feel so lucky to have gotten a crash course in Brazilian Pop music from Ricardo. Just when I thought the night couldn't get any cooler, he took me to La Citè. It was packed and there were great jazz musicians playing. I will definitely be going there again.

As we were walking back over the bridge to go home I was telling him how thankful I am for Couch Surfing and how awesome it is to go out and do things with people who live in Italy. He said, "Yeah, I'll show you all the things to do here. We also do this."

He whips it out and starts peeing off the bridge into the Arno River. I did the same. When in Rome I guess, right? ...Or Florence I suppose.



Now onto the stinky eggs!

Yesterday morning my roommate Ryan and I met the Couch Surfers outside of the city center at 10:30 and we all left for Petriolo to take a bath in the natural sulphur hot springs. It's so easy to be overwhelmed by everything in this city and forget about all the great things that are just a short trip outside of it. I think I could stay within the walls of Florence for my entire three month stay and still feel like I didn't have enough time to see everything. Don't get me wrong, I can't wait to get out and explore all the other great parts of Italy. I just wanted to exhaust and try and see everything in Florence before I visited other places. But the idea of a natural jacuzzi bath just seemed too good to pass up.

So I drove with my new friend Paolo and some other couch surfers through the Tuscan countryside to the hot springs. The foul scent of the springs quickly invaded our car windows as we pulled up. Pull out your eggs that have been sitting out for a few days. Yeah, that smell.

Ryan, who had drove in a separate car, was already soaking in the sulphur pits when we walked down to the river. I wasted no time getting in and the hot water felt amazing. It hasn't been unbearably cold this last week, but a hot jacuzzi bath was welcomed and pretty glorious. My nose grew accustomed to the scent within minutes, but the scent lingered with me hours after I got out. But it was one hundred percent worth it. A small price to pay for a free gift from mother nature.

I met a lady from Siena who I talked to for some time. She asked me if I would like to come to Siena and have wine and coffee with her family (Or atleast, that's what my broken Italian
thought she said. The entire conversation was in Italian. That could be a glorious mis-communication. But she gave me her phone number and contact information and told me to call before I came over. So I am planning on going to Siena this weekend. We will see I suppose.)

After soaking for hours in the hot springs, my new friends from Germany and I walked over to a nearby bridge to sit and practice Italian. The sun was going down and a massive bridge in the distance blocked it making it suddenly very cold. We laughed uncontrollably at "The piece of shit bridge that was stealing our sun." Some things are funnier when spoken in a new strange language I suppose.



***

My friends from school and I walked up to Piazza Michelangelo today to see Florence from an elevated perspective. Pretty cool. That was my adventure today instead of homework. I don't have a lot today, but I need to stop blogging and start doing it. My roommates are laughing at me saying I'm going to have a whole novel written by the end of April but F's in all my classes.

Maybe I can be an author.

The people of Florence.

It's really true what they say about the food here. It really is difficult to get a bad meal. My favorite restaurant so far is Ristorante Il Teatro . We ate there for our school's welcome dinner a few nights ago. I eat slow, even for Italian standards. So as they are bringing desert plates out to everyone, I still have a full plate of vegetables in front of me. The waitress Mariella comes up to me and asks me in Italian why I'm not eating. I say "I am! I'm just slow!" She says "no no no," grabs my fork and starts shoveling food into my mouth- Choo Choo Train style. I can't eat the food as fast as it's coming. Everyone applauds her after my plate is picked clean. She takes a bow and walks off.

I go back the next day to eat lunch by myself. My other friend Karmen is working, but Mariella seats me. When she takes my order, she pinches my cheeks and tells me how good I am at speaking Italian. A little bit later, she pulls on my hair as she makes her way into the kitchen. I give a bit of a jump, and the Italians eating at the table next to me give me a strange look. I tell them she is my friend, and they give me an even stranger look between "Why is this American speaking Italian?" and "Why is he speaking Italian to us?" I just smiled and continued to eat.

I like all the people here. I think they are all brilliant. I was buying a pannini from Roberto today, when an old gentleman started talking to me in English. With a thick British accent, he said, "Why is it that not many Americans speak another language?" I was caught off guard to hear him speak English, as he had ordered his sandwich in Italian. I regained my composure, switched to English and said, "I don't know, but I'm trying to fix that." His name was Alan and he talked to me for two hours about everything from teaching at Oxford to how America needs to switch from privatized to public health care. He had a lot to say and I just stood and listened. If you had recorded our conversation and made a time lapse of it, you would have seen us dancing in an elliptical motion around Roberto's cart, me taking the lead as I would try to put some distance between us. I wasn't trying to avoid the conversation, just the spit coming from his mouth. But I wouldn't have traded those two hours for anything. I hope I run into him again.

Last night I went out to a restaurant to eat with my two friends from school. As we are sitting at the table, I hear our waiter singing as he enters the room. I tell him "Signor, canti bello!" He laughs and sets me straight saying he's not a good singer. Then I start to sing in Italian. Basic sentences that are by no means poetic to someone who speaks the language. Things like "I love to eat! I would like to eat right now!" He laughs. I tell him I like to sing, but I am not very good. He begins to talk to us. We listen attentively.

He talks about how it is the responsibility of the men in this world to take care of the women. He says it's instinctive and is necessary for the survival of our race. Nothing serious here. He's just speaking his mind to Christine, Chiro and me in the empty restaurant as he twirls an empty wine bottle through his fingers. Nowhere to be, no one to serve. Plenty of time to talk to some Americans. He scolds me for calling him signore and tells me we are friends and to call him Nicola. So I do.

I ask him if he has ever been to the States. He says if he goes, he is afraid he will never come back. I ask him how he could possibly leave this country, and he says "Niente Speciale." It's nothing special. He then asks me how I like Florence so far. I tell him I like it so much better than San Diego. I say "I've lived there for so long so San Diego is nothing special for me. It's beautiful, but it's nothing special."

It's weird to think that someone can live in this city and walk around everyday and not be mystified at where they are. I want to run around and shake everyone and say "why aren't you more excited? Look at where you are!!" It's hard to imagine the surreal effects of walking around here ever wearing off. But then in the same minute I have this thought, I think about the paradise I came from and how people must react to me when I say "oh I live in San Diego, it's nothing special." I don't think I can ever fully appreciate how lucky I was to grow up there. But sometimes you don't realize how cool the place you come from is until you've left it. I think traveling is great in that way, where you get to discover new awesome places but at the same time rediscover where you came from. It's exciting, I kind of like being the guy from California.

As we leave the Trattoria Anita another waiter, Maurizio, comes up to me and asks me how long I will be living in Florence for. I tell him about three months. He responds with "now that you live here, the only restaurant you eat at is Trattoria Anita." It was less of a request and more of a statement. I laugh and I tell him he will be seeing a lot of me from now on.

The sights and art of Florence are amazing. But next to coming here and seeing it yourself, it doesn't do a lot of good if I try and describe it. You can read an art history book for that. And don't get me wrong, it's tied for first place for my favorite part of living here. But it's competition is the people. It's the people that you can't see or read about if you pick up an art book on Italy. They are truly works of art in their own.

***

Tonight I am going to eat at an Italian restaurant with the Florence Couch Surfing group. I haven't met these people before, but I am really excited to. There will be Florence Couch Surfers there and people from all over the world. I can't wait.

Remy

The amazing Italians I met from Milan and my new friend Roberto.

It's carnivale in Italy, which is a celebration of lent and literally means "goodbye to meat." But it is also true to the english sense of the word, which brings forth visions of masked theatrical celebration. Although it really goes off in Venice, there is plenty of confetti littering the streets of Florence from revelers celebrating this Italian holiday. And we go to yesterday around 4 outside the Duomo...

I am walking with some people I go to school with when a little girl runs past me and throws a handful of confetti on some girls that were walking a few feet ahead of me. It got all in their hair and they looked like sprinkled Italian cupcakes. So as I walked past I said something funny in Italian, like "che scarbata!" which translates to "how rude!" They laughed and I didn't think more of it for the next few steps. But then my friend Kelley said "Remy, those were the Italian girls you are looking for!" I realized Kelley was right, and I turned around to go talk to them.

I have no social inhibitions. There's just no way around it. I am not scared of talking to people I don't know and I am not afraid to look like a complete idiot. A foreign country is the perfect place for me. I can talk to strangers without them thinking I am a weirdo (like most people probably do in the states) because I am from another country. I feel like people are more receptive to someone from another country in their homeland than someone who lives down the street from them. Or who knows, maybe that's just the Italians. Or I could be completely wrong altogether. I can't draw infinite conclusions about anything I suppose. In any case, I think everyone should drop their social inhibitions. You can meet some really great people.

So I ended up talking to these confetti girls from Milan and their friends for about thirty minutes. All in Italian. It was one of the best experiences I have ever had in my life. They were so nice and kind and put up with all my ugly grammatical mistakes and strange pronunciations. They probably thought I was pretty hilarious. If I were them and an overly excited American came up to me and talked like I did, I would be like, "This guys is so ridiculous. What a goober." But they were so awesome and I am so happy they talked with me last night. So Maria, Irene and Beatrice and friends if you are reading this right now, Grazie Mille. You made my day so amazing. I am coming to Milan and I hope we can eat great food and have another great conversation together.

And speaking of rad Italians...

I made a friend who I guess it probably doesn't make sense for me to be friends with, but in case you haven't picked up on the theme yet I am a big fan of things not making sense. He runs the tripe cart just outside of my house. If you weren't aware, tripe is cow stomach lining. Or something like that. I am a vegetarian, but I think what people want to eat is completely up to them and I have no problem with people who eat meat. So a few days ago I stopped to talk to him and he offered me some tripe. I told him I wasn't hungry, but I would come back tomorrow for a caprese pannini. He thought I was funny with all the words I used and our friendship quickly transitioned from the formal to informal tense. Long story short, Roberto and I now talk to each other on a first name basis and I say "Ciao" to him every time I walk out my front door. He yells "Ciao Remy! Come stai?" from across the street, and I don't feel like I have been living in another country for three days, but like Roberto and I have know each other for years and we are old friends. He gave me free gelato yesterday from the gelato shop he owns down the street and wine today when I stopped to say hello. Pretty great stuff.

I guess it's just been remarkable so far. I'm almost a little disappointed at how easy and enjoyable it was for me to make the transition to live in another country, but not really. Like I miss seeing my family everyday and the totally amazing people I know in San Diego, but hey I guess distance makes the heart grow fonder right?

Anyway, thanks again for reading. I really enjoy transmitting all my thoughts to a digital computer screen. Ciao bella.

Outside the Duomo at 6 in the morning.

I love this city.

Too many things I want to say right now! This blog will be very scattered and confusing (just like my mind right now) but I want to say a few things.

The first is I love this city. I love the people (even the ones who are rude,) I love the crazy drivers, I love the freezing weather and I love that I haven't gotten a good nights sleep in days and it hasn't even phased me.

I think my favorite part so far is talking with people in Italian. I just can't get enough of it. It's like an adrenaline rush every time I say something. I have already made Italian friends at various shops around the city who recognize me when I walk by them. It is just so cool.

Oh yeah, and the art is cool. I am still in complete awe and shock as I walk through these streets.

I still can't sleep. I woke up at 4:30 Italian time this morning and was out the door by 6. My roommate Ryan and I walked around the deserted streets of the early morning waiting for a bar to open so we could get coffee and a pastry. It was a great morning.

Last night my roommates and I went to eat at a really fancy restaurant (don't worry, it was cheaper because I am a student) on the Ponte Vecchio. There was live jazz music and we could see the Arno River and the bridge from where we were eating. And it's true what they say about the food in Italy. It really is amazing. And it's pretty cool being able to have a glass of wine with dinner. God I am so lucky.

I really want to meet some Italians and do things with them, so I have been replying to posts on couchsurfing.com under the Florence group. I am going to a vegetarian dinner this Thursday with a bunch of Vegetarian Florentines. I am so excited.

I guess I am just excited about everything. I think not being able to sleep has started because of jet lag but sneakily transformed into an excitement induced sleeping disorder. Whatever. This is sweet.

My house is amazing too. Roommates are sweet and you can see The Duomo from pretty much every window in our house. Like no exaggeration, we live right at the base of it. My key looks so awesome too.

Anyway I should probably go. Thanks for reading this. I know it is quite jumbled, but I am alright with that.

A dopo.

Remy

Jet Lag and life so far in Italy.

It's 6:45 and the sun is just coming up over Italy.

I woke up at 5 to a man boisterously singing a song in Italian in the street below my hotel room. I wanted to open the window and shout "canta bella signore!" But my roommate was sleeping and I didn't want to wake him up.

We move into our apartments today. I haven't seen it yet, but it is right between the Duomo and the Ponte Vecchio (I think? I don't know my sense of direction is terrible. I mean, I even got lost last night. I am a champ.) In any case, I am really excited to see it.

Last night I walked around the center of Florence and literally could not believe I was here. The effects of jet lag (increased by my inability to sleep at all on the 11 hour plane ride from LAX to Paris) made me feel like I was in a dream. It was just unbelievable. These places that I've seen in books and thought about for years actually exist. To actually walk across the Ponte Vecchio and stand at the base of the Duomo is probably one of the most surreal things I have ever done. Then add the dream like effects of jet lag (the great paradox where you are too tired to sleep) and I find myself here, the next morning wondering what is going on.

Did I really talk in Italian to some Italian last night in the hotel hallway about brushing my teeth?

Did I really fly over the Atlantic Ocean and step foot for the first time in Europe in a snow filled Charles de Gaulle airport in Paris?

Did I really hear some guy singing in Italian outside my window this morning??

I have no idea. I think now that I have slept for a little bit reality may present itself today. But man this is so surreal.

I hate packing.

Time and time again I consistently demonstrate my brilliant ability to self sabotage myself. It's really quite impressive. I've known for months I would be leaving for Italy on February 11th and I wait until the night before to pack for a three month trip. I'm even choosing to write this blog write now instead of finishing up the packing.

Nicely done Remington. We all think you're really awesome.

But hey, at least I'm aware of it. Everyone can laugh at me tomorrow when I show up to the airport without my passport (I'll probably knock twice on wood for that one) but for now I'm reveling in these final hours in San Diego.

It's strange that this day is finally here. What do you do the night before a trip you've been looking forward to for over two years? More importantly, what do you do the night before you move away from home for the first time? It's like nothing I've ever felt before. It's an awful mix between frustration and anxiousness. If I've been looking forward to this trip for so long, why can't I focus for long enough to pack a suitcase?

But that's just it. Packing the suitcase makes it too real. This has always been a nice idea to me, but never something that was real. Always on my mind but forever elusive. Kind of like an opiate that would keep my restlessness at bay, but never really satisfy that inexplicable wanderlust. I think today, for the first time, I actually realized I was going to Italy. It blew my mind. This is my last night in San Diego. I was like "shit, I should probably pack."

I feel so lucky to have gotten to live the life I did in San Diego. My brother always tells me how "dramatic" I am, but I don't think I am being dramatic right now. I'm just being thankful. I'm ready for this though.

So let the adventure begin, right?

Although I'm not going to lie, packing this suitcase is incredibly stressful.

Last week in the country.

Hello, my name is Remy. I love many things, adventures being one of them. I guess music too. I used to play in this band called Play The Fox and I still continue to play music. I get high off of connecting with people through it and am forever enthralled by it.

I have a week until I leave to study abroad for my third semester of college in Florence, Italy. I caught the travel bug bad. For as long as I can remember I've wanted to travel, see new things and meet new people and learn from them. Since I was a senior in high school for some reason I have been transfixed with Italy, so I am pretty excited about this.

I wanted to start this so I could have some tangible way of documenting and remembering the people, places and things I see from here on out. But I don't want it to be a snooty "look at how awesome I am" blog. I want it to be a "look at how awesome we all are" blog. I believe there are overwhelmingly more good people in the world than bad people, and I aim to prove it.

I just love to write I guess...and if you love to read, i don't know maybe it could be cool.