Milano at night

I'm sorry it's so detailed, Milan is a very visual city. They've got colors, the new clashing with the old, so many tall skinny girls in heels so high, walking on cobblestone floors. So many hot guys with sunglasses in tight shirts. So many couples, all this affection, all this love.

After our tour of the city, our whole group was split into 3 hotels like 20 walking minutes from the square. It was so sweaty and humid. We found dinner not far from the hotel. Nothing like a nice cold can of Heineken to wash down a fresh, hot pizza, on a hot, sunny day. They don't put much vegetables on their pizzas, just like artichokes and mushrooms, & it was a little too salty for me. But I love mozzarella!!!

WTF? even their soda cans are tall and skinny! Afterwards, we met up with the rest of the group in front of the Duomo to see if we could find a bar. This couple outside the church were in a very heated argument, his hands raised in the air, her eyebrows furrowed. Five minutes later they were all over each other making up, hands on each other and faces touching and everything.

I love Italians. One of our Program Assistants is Italian and he said you gotta watch out for Italians. They will whistle at you, and they do. You're looking nice today? I'm gonna give you the attention I think you deserve. Because it's in their culture, it's like instinct; they check out women. Europeans are so much more affectionate, it's adorable. Us Americans have nasty PDA that always involves some form of body fluids. Here, we can touch, and keep it dry. Italians love their women, they look like they can treat you right, and couples look so adorable here, very nicely dressed, with matching leather and shoes and everything. But I think it's also easy for them to cheat, just because.

We walked halfway with the group that was going to the bar. Because we waited so long, a lot of people left to do their own thing, and so did we. If we did follow the rest of the remaining group to the bar, we would've gotten free drinks and watch my friend immortalize herself by dancing on top of the bar counter. But we didn't know until the day after. We found a corner cafe, and ordered some drinks. I had sex on the beach, and I gave Judy my cherry.

Three girls walking under the influence in a foreign country past midnight? Sounds like time for pictures! I took these from Judy's facebook (but I forgot to ask her for permission). Happy Fourth of July.

Milano in the Afternoon

Spouting from a water fountain, a knot at the end of a thread that ran under the road to across the street in front of the main train station through a needle. Contemporary art in a historical city to symbolize the world capital of fashion, the colors symbolizing diversity (or whatever the tour guide lady said, her accent was adoringly thick but difficult to understand).

another peek

Along the way, it wasn't just the weather that was hot!

Ever faithful to hit the most popular tourist spots, there was the famous Opera House

and across the street was the Galleria,

a giant mall featuring only the best

they have a McCafe inside, just like Hong Kong! Once we walked straight across, we arrived at the center of Milan, the Duomo di Milano;

with hundreds of gothic spiresand Our Lady at the top, once the highest point of Milan.

Inside was just as impressive, but we were not allowed inside if we were showing our shoulders and/or knees. Males were not allowed to wear hats

Across the square stood

the ever great Napoleon, who conquered this region of Lombardy once. His presence is well known in Europe
and not just by humans! But it's not specifically because of Napoleon. Random guys would stand around the statue all day, holding a palm of bird seed, they would come up to tourists, take their hand, pour seeds into it and gently raise it up so the birds would flock to them. A perfect picture opportunity. I didn't get my picture taken, we were told not to trust a lot of people. We were all afraid they would start asking us for money afterwards.

When we finished touring the Castello Sforzesco earlier, this guy suddenly grabbed my friend's arm and tied a rainbow string on her wrist like a bracelet. It was alarming since I was standing and walking right next to her. We were lucky we had a program assistant there to tell him off, but these guys were all over the city, unexpectedly giving tourists bracelets and then ask for a price. Most of them were Africans.

Europe has immigration problems too. I saw a news segment on BBC about phony football scouts in Africa saying they're looking for the best players to play in Europe, they'd sign up a family, take all their money so their son could go to Europe and "train" there, fly them over here, and leave them. That's just one of the many ways they move north. I'm sure many come up here looking for a better life. Is this better than what they left behind? It's like Mexicans in California. Am I a monster for discussing this but not making any action for a better change? I can talk all this talk, but it never means I really care.

Milano in the Morning

Early Friday Morning + 3 hour bus ride = MILANO!
Montreux: small, quiet wine country town
Milan: fashion capital in the world, one of the most famous cities in the world
- more space for parking cars than walking and grass on sidewalk.
- uber cool Smartcar & awesome mopeds all around
- graffiti and air pollution from automobiles reminiscent of LA

Castello Sforzesco

lovely fountain in front

Half-naked man cooling at the fountain

the courtyard inside

with multiple museums inside. We went through a gallery of European art, sculptures of Christianity and political leaders, grand tapestries, some angels, and a Da Vinvi painting.

Sorry for the bad quality. At the end of the exhibit, standing all on its own, is one of Michelangelo's last sculptures, the unfinished Rondanini Pietà
It's the Virgin Mary holding his dying son, whose arm detached is from his body. High school spent hearing about the greatest artists of all time from hundreds of years ago thousands of miles away from home is here, in front of my eyes.

My People and Places

So far, I'm having fun in Switzerland. Not as much as I could have or should have in my state, but my reckless stage is over, I paid my dues. At first I was worried cliques would appear. My friend did the Travel Study program in France and she said her group got really cliquey. In the beginning we were cliquey, we didn't really know anybody, so we stuck to those we know. But afterwards, I felt we were comfortable talking to most people. Now, I think, we've resorted to the decision that after we've explored the groups and types of people out there, we've settled back into our groups comfortably simply because that's the type of person we are.

People are different, and they're complicating. To me, it feels like we have our groups that we're most comfortable with yet it's also okay to hang out with other people. Cliques but never exclusive. I like that. In high school we never had cliques, or it felt like we didn't; just a separation between those wanting to go to college and those who don't. It was weird how it just so happen to go along ethnic lines. In college, my dorm was extremely cliquey, separated by gender and floor. For now, I'm happy the love is all around.

I'm glad we're all good with each other. But I don't think it's so hot when we're around people outside our program, specifically people who actually live here. I didn't know this until I got here, but Californian college students are loud, obnoxious people. There's a stereotype of "socal" people being a tad bit dumb and very superficial, especially when it comes to being an individual. I mean it's understandable, you're young, you're in a new country, there's free music, easy alcohol, it's summer, everyday should be carpe diem day. But DUDE, please have a little respect and consideration for your environment. Maybe it's because I'm a nerd that I came to Europe to learn. I'm not saying I didn't come here with the sole intent to drink, party, and meet people. I just didn't think being the group of people I came with would come with such Southern California perspectives.

For one thing, I didn't complain about nail polish, nail polish remover, hair curlers and/or straighteners within 40 minutes of arriving. I don't give a shit about my hair and nails and I think i can live without it for 5 weeks. I don't think it's absurd nothing is open on Sundays. I have no problem that people here don't speak my language because I am the one who's not from here and I should respect them. Just because I'm a customer doesn't mean I can do anything. I fucking stick out here anyway for being Asian, but I don't make it seem obvious I'm stupid by being loud and obnoxious. I feel crummy being with them sometimes. It must be worse for the natives here being around them, I don't like Americans either. But I'm also being very critical of my peers, I should be having fun with them too, not standing on the side rejecting their company. What's wrong with me?

Wine Tasting

Monday, July 30-

After class, a nice Frenchman named Betrand Ehret who usually teaches at the university gave a workshop on wine. Wine comes from grapes, and only wine that comes from grapes can be called wine. Alcoholic drink made from strawberries cannot be called wine, it must be called strawberry wine. He gave us a packet on how to make wine, and the different methods. You can pick grapes by hand the way they do here, or you can us a machine that wiggles. The wiggling machine jiggles the grapevine so the grapes fall down (our instructor never actually said 'wiggle' or 'jiggle,' I just think they sound funny). After they are processed, and bacteria is added to ferment, they can be stored in two ways, in traditional wood barrels, or in steel tanks. Machines and steel tanks are more common outside Europe. In California, it's too hot to pick in the middle of the day, and machines can be used even at night, and Europe, especially Switzerland, there's a lot of hills that would cause the machine to roll into the lake. Here, many people store their wooden barrels underground to keep it cool. While in places like California, they use steel tanks to allow the temperature control, so you can store it above ground. They also cheat a little by dumping a teabag-like thing containing wood to give the illusion of a taste that it was stored in a barrel.

There's a lot more into it but it could get boring. Every step in the process of making wine makes a difference in how it tastes. The best part was how to taste wine.

Sight
Look at the wine, and take in its color and its clarity. Wines have different colors, different shades of red or white. Always serve wine in a clean glass. Red should be room temperature, white should be chilled.

Smell
Smell the wine, and try to figure out what it smells like. Even though it's made from just grapes, they have distinctive smells. Swirl the wine to get a more rich aroma from it.

Swirl
When you swirl the wine, pay attention to the "legs" or the water things that remain on the side of the glass. The French call them "tears." How long it is can tell you the alcohol content. The ring around the wine can also tell you the alcohol and sugar level. The ring is the surface of the wine inside the wine glass, and you can determine it by how thick it is. Usually the thicker the ring, the more alcohol content and the more sugar it has.

Taste
Finally, taste the wine. He said you should sip a little and hold it for at least 12 seconds to get the taste. Since Europeans are used to bitter food & Americans are used to foods with a lot of sugar, each palate is different in tasting wine. Some might find sweet wine not so sweet, and vice versa. Then he said usually during a wine tasting, they would have a bucket where people can spit out the wine after tasting, but since he is French and they are lazy, he forgot; so we can walk outside onto the balcony.

Time
Wine has the lifetime of a human. When it's growing up, or fermenting in the container, its taste starts out bad, then develops into a better taste. When it's being bottled, going from big container to little container, it needs time to rearrange itself and thus its taste has a little dip; this drop in quality is the teenager years. Then it's the golden years where wine tastes good for a long amount of time before it starts to deteriorate, the adult stage before aging. Wine should not last more than 15 years (?).

The life of a wine depends on the wine, it could be 2 years, 5 years, or longer before maturation. You need to taste it before you can find out. When you buy wine, open a bottle and taste it to see where it is in its life. Then take it out again at most a year later & try it again. If it tastes good, invite some friends and have a dinner party. If it doesn't taste good, try it again some other time later. Therefore, always try to buy at least a crate of the same wine when buying wine.

He said a good wine depends on the person, just like there is no standard what a beautiful women should look like. It also changes with time.

I didn't really much like wine before. But after his class, I think I can like it now, to appreciate the time and heart that goes into wine, they way he taught me. It's hard because all the things he said comes from experience. I can't know what wine tastes like because I haven't tried a lot of it before, so there's no memory to trigger.

At least not yet. I am learning to love wine. Does this mean I'm growing up, learning to love wine? Drinking coffee after dinner? Learning how to put on cosmetics, wearing heels and matching outfits for events, walking the thin line between attractive but not slutty? Being on my own. Handling my own money without looking to my parents. Trying new things. Dare I try to be more of myself?

France (Needs Pictures!)

On Thursday, we walked for what felt like two miles downhill to town to exchange our money into Euros for our trip to France. The winding staircase down sunk into the soil and grew into the mountain. Hidden mostly in the shade, every glance was a beautiful view to the mountains, the towns, or the lake. Later that afternoon we received a briefing on French culture and our trip.

We left Friday morning on a bus with a giant St. Bernard on it. As we were transferring to several trains, we crossed the border sometime while we were asleep on one of the trains. We arrived in Chamonix, a quiet ski resort town at the foot of the French Alps, home to one of the biggest mountains, Mont Blanc. I woke up to see this view on the train.

Later that day, we took the train or ski thingy up to Mont Blanc. Soon, that little town began to look like this:


For dinner, we went to this restaurant that served a 3 course meal to about 89 people (our group). I felt really bad for the few people who were serving so many people, especially Americans. The best part was dessert. Our French waiter with French body odor and French accent started passing out desserts on our table. My friend asked what it was, to which he seriously, calmly, replied, "Raspberry. Raspberry tits." It took us a while, faces frozen for a moment in comprehension. I thought it looked like mousse. LMAO

Raspberry Tits

Later that night, I had my first half-pint of Heineken! I don't know if I could take a whole pint... not exactly the size of a whole pint myself... but I will go hunt down pictures of us at the bar! I'm not sure if I got my real view of France, Chamonix is a resort town, they cater to foreigners as tourists. I didn't really see a lot of French people because I also saw a lot of Germans, Brits and Japanese people around too. From up above, Chamonix looks like a secret kept by the tall mountains that surrounds it. I bet it must look very different in the winter time. The Euro is very expensive.

Saturday
Woke up early to visit some ice caves. We were actually in high altitude already, took the train up to see glaciers in the middle of June.

That thing under the dirt, is all ice. Obviously, parts of it were melting off, forming streams and rivers somewhere. That's the funny thing about Europe weather from my point of view so far. Sometimes it rains, and sometimes it doesn't you can only tell by the clouds. They never stay for long, but they always come back. Because of that, there's a lot of grass, not suburban grass, natural grass, where flowers naturally grow, where animals naturally graze. Somewhere, there is always a stream flowing, just because we live in the mountain. It's so peaceful. It's so beautiful. Anyway, they put in changing lights to make frozen water more interesting, and they sculpted it into these really weird figures that don't really resemble anything. This is the best I can do with my camera:




They're all the same thing, the colors just change. I think it's a living room... but I'm not sure. After lunch, we came back down for a short adventure around town. Dinner was better than the day before, with a lot of good wine, sparkling wine, white wine, red wine.

Nasty Espresso I couldn't get used to, but I took the chocolate!

Dinner was good, nightlife not so good. The club was underground with no air circulation. So eventually the floor was sticky and wet with sweat that was dripping down. And sometimes, sometimes(!), European boys smell when they sweat. I know, EEWWWWW.

Sunday
Overall Chamonix wasn't bad, it was a nice town with very obliging people. But I didn't feel like it was really France, since it's a resort town. In the summer there's a lot of good hiking when it isn't busy with snow in the winter, and a lot of people went canyoning (or canyoneering in the U.S.) and para gliding, and there was rafting and other really cool (but expensive) outdoor stuff to do too. But it felt like what I saw in one weekend, was almost pretty much all I had to see, and it wasn't really France. We left early Sunday morning to come back to Switzerland. Montreux greeted us with the most beautiful thunderstorm I have ever seen.

I am still in Los Angeles

It is strange to separate yourself from where you are from when you are there. Separate the location from your everyday life, if this is possible, which it is not, but I think there is perspective to be gained in the attempt.

When I drive around, the weather is clear and blue-skied, slightly breezy, high in the low 90s, low humidity. There are palm trees lining every other street, hibiscus and guava grow readily along hedges and in front yards, citrus trees are dotted here and there along the front lawns of spanish revival homes. If I were anywhere else, this would be so special. It would be exotic, Mediterranean, sub/tropical. But it is not, because it is from here and I am from here.

Sometimes, when I walk in the evening, I try to see my little world as if I am from somewhere else. And it is beautiful, and lush and green, the bougainvillea plants that twine their way through alleys and side yards, the variety of fruit trees that are in a two-block radius of where I live (from East and Southeast Asia, the Mediterranean, and native to the West Coast), all growing with such guiltless abandon. It is a paradise, here. And I feel like I can barely sometimes grasp this from a fresh perspective and appreciate it for what it is, but such understanding is so fleeting and I must try again and again to see it, and not just walk the same path I have trod for twenty years.

I wonder, if one were to die and go to heaven, would it become kind of commonplace too? If so, then...well...why not just stick around here? Or somewhere less perfect, anyway. It seems like it would be a waste.