A Weekend in Lisboncisco

The tales are fake cause it's not actually San Francisco.

I love San Francisco. It's a great city with many unique, unmistakable features. A few highlights are:

The hills:                                                                    
The cable cars:
            


The specialty dessert shops:                                                        

The beautiful architecture:















The gorgeous bay:

                              



The seafood:

The massive bridge connecting the two ends of the bay:

And of course, who could forget the famous, one-of-a-kind, Golden Gate Bridge:

Oh wait. Never mind. That's Lisbon, Portugal.

Lisbon is Europe's answer to San Francisco. Or, San Francisco is America's answer to Lisbon. I'm not sure which. It seems like a chicken/egg thing because while Lisbon is much older, there are a lot of modern features the two cities have in common, such as the bridge that looks too much like the Golden Gate to be a coincidence. The similarities are too uncanny to ignore. It started when I'd see something in Lisbon and think, "hey! This reminds me of San Francisco" and the similarities kept piling up over the weekend.

I didn't know that much about Lisbon or Portugal when I booked my trip there, but it was listed on some website as one of the best value cities in Europe and the flights were relatively cheap, so I decided to go for a weekend. It was great.

Here's some of my notes about the city, other than the fact that it's Europe's San Francisco:

The hill down from Barrio Alto

The hill down from my hostel

Hills, hills, and more hills: You need a topographical map to explore Lisbon. My hostel was a quarter mile from one of the trendy neighborhoods in town, Barrio Alto. What they don't tell you is that while it is a quarter mile away, that quarter mile involves going all the way down a hill and all the way up an even steeper one. "Barrio Alto" literally translates to "high neighborhood," so I'm not sure what I expected.
        Every day is leg day in Lisbon. I guarantee you will walk up at least one steep hill per day if you do the city on foot at all. It's just part of life there. It'll leave your legs extremely sore by the end of the weekend, but it's a good workout and it justifies splurging on the food.


The Portuguese can be called many things, but "good drivers" is not one of them: They're on a par with Roman drivers and possibly a bit worse. You kinda have to time it and run if you want to cross the street when there's no stoplight.

Rossio Square, where a lot of this happens

Waiters and drug dealers are aggressive: I couldn't go through Rossio Square or any other main area of town without hearing someone ask me, "hashish?" Sometimes it was just a passing whisper as I walked by, but other times guys would call me out and be like, "Hey, buddy! Hashish? Marijuana?" while walking towards me, showing a small bag of weed or a lighter in their palm. Restaurant waiters in the tourist area are also bad about this. I stopped once to glance at a menu and after realizing it was too pricey and probably not that great, I walked away and a lady came out and shouted, "Sir! Come back!" so I turned around and she said, "why don't you want to eat here??" like it was of some great offense to her. All this freaked me out at first, but by the end of the first day, I realized that Lisbon's vendors are slightly shadier versions of the people who stop and ask you if you want to donate to save the oceans or something like that. You just have to look forward and ignore them and they won't pursue you any further. It's an acquired skill. Shoutout to the gay rights activists and CALPIRG at UC Davis for preparing me for Lisbon.

Vasco da Gama's tomb in the St.
Jerome church in Belem

The Portuguese love Vasco da Gama: He was an explorer in the 16th Century who put Portugal on the map and paved the way for its large colonial empire. His remains are on display in the St. Jerome church, one of the statues in the Belem area shows him leading all the other figures out towards sea, and many roads and buildings bare his name. I have to think he is linked with national pride, something that has not always been easy to come by in Portugal, particularly in the last century.

A lot of people speak English well: I was shocked at how many people in Lisbon spoke English really well. While people do in Spain and Italy, it's usually pretty broken, but in Portugal, I'd ask someone if they spoke English and they'd understand what I was saying and respond clearly. This made getting around a lot easier, considering I knew absolutely no Portuguese coming to Lisbon. It's an interesting language. It's kinda like Spanish, but it sounds more like French when it's spoken, but it nonetheless confused the hell out of me.

The Food:
-Cervejeria Ramiro: Since it's, you know, kind of in a bay, Lisbon is known for its seafood. The specialty dish is bachalau, which is salted cod. I didn't have any because I'm not a big fan of seafood. Still, I felt like I had to eat something from the ocean while in Lisbon, so I went to a famous restaurant called Cervejaria Ramiro. I'd heard of it because travel show host Anthony Bourdain goes there in an episode where he visits Lisbon. The place is pretty easy to spot because of the long line outside. I waited about 25-30 minutes, but this seems to be the norm and part of the Ramiro experience.

Said display case of seafood I sat next to. My garlic shrimp was
the picture I used for "seafood" in the intro.

       I sat right next to a display case where they kept live seafood. A chef would occasionally come by, open the lid, and take a lobster out and take it to the kitchen to be cooked. I also heard from a fellow tourist that the restaurant has giant tanks in its basement where it breeds all the animals it cooked. This means it's extremely fresh, which is a great sign. I'd been eying the garlic shrimp (shrimp is one of the few types of seafood I like) from the moment I saw the menu earlier in the day, so that's what I ordered. It was delicious. You could definitely tell how fresh these shrimp were. They were meaty, just the right level of tenderness, and above all, smothered in garlic. If you like seafood, I feel like Ramiro is kind of a must. It's pricier than a lot of places, but not unreasonable.

The inside of the restaurant. The grill is
against the wall.

-Frangasqueira Nacional: The best meal I had in Portugal was from a place called Frangasqueira Nacional. It's a place tucked away pretty far from most of the action of the center of town on a side street, marked by only a simple banner in front. The restaurant itself is one room, divided by the counter. There are two tiny chairs, but otherwise no seating whatsoever. The other three quarters of the room contained the register, a prep station with a cutting board, and a pretty big grill that had several birds, ribs, and sausages grilling at any given time. There was one cook, who would move the birds across the grill.

Once he thought they were done, he would lift the bird off the grill with a pair of tongs and masterfully scissor it into bite sized pieces in a few quick and deliberate snips. He would then put it in the tin and brush it first with a yellow/green oil and then with a red oil before giving it to the customer. I had to wait a while because of some big orders they had, but I didn't mind because this process was mesmerizing. I ordered a mishta, or mixed plate, which had half a bird plus ribs (he gave me two extra because he said he could tell I was a nice guy) and a sausage, with a side of homemade potato chips. Lunch was a glorious feast of meat. I don't know what they do to their meat, but it was incredible. I walked away satisfied and extremely stuffed. I finished lunch about 1:30 and wasn't hungry again until around 9:00.

A pastel de nata

-Pasteis de Belem: The last notable place I went was a pastry shop called Pasteis de Belem. It's been open since the 1830s and it's where the Portuguese specialty pastry, the pastel de nata, was invented. To say a pastel de nata is a custard cup wouldn't be doing it justice, but I'm not sure how else to describe it. The sugar is burnt and caramelized on top and the surrounding pastry is so flaky and gives just enough of a crunch before it gives way to the sweet, fluffy custard center. This is another place that almost always has a line, but it moves quickly and with pastries this good and this cheap (1 euro each), it's worth it. The history behind the bakery makes the pastry even better, knowing that you are getting THE original.

-The beer: The icing on the cake of the delicious food is the fact that the Portuguese beers are really good. There are two: Super Bock and Sagres. I really liked both of them. They're your run of the mill mass-produced beers, but I felt like they were a pretty big step above the standards I've had in Italy and Spain. I think Super Bock is better, but I wouldn't complain if I had either in my glass.

The Sights:

-The Castelo de São Jorge: The castle is the best thing to do in town, if you ask me. You have to climb to the top of a really steep hill (It's Lisbon. You should be expecting this) and I think the entrance is something like 8 euro, but it's absolutely worth the money. You get a beautiful view of the bay and the city,first and foremost, and then you get to go up and climb around in a FREAKING CASTLE. How cool is that??? If you don't think climbing around in a castle and getting views of Lisbon is cool, then you're beyond lame and frankly, not someone I want to be friends with.

The St. Jerome monastery/church in Belem

-Belem: Belem is district about 4 miles from the main area of town, a 15 minute train ride away. I went to Belem expecting to spend an hour or two, but I ended up spending about 4 hours there. The two famous landmarks of the area are the Torre de Belem and the St. Jerome Monastery. The St. Jerome Monastery is a huge, gorgeous gothic-style church. I think it's more impressive from the outside, but it is also really beautiful on the inside and admission is free, so there's no reason not to go in. It's definitely up there with my favorite churches in Europe. The Torre de Belem is sort of a mix between a lighthouse and a castle. It looks like a castle, but was used to keep watch over the bay and make sure nobody unwanted came through the harbor. I didn't go in because I'm cheap, but it was still cool to look at from the outside.


-The Expo Area: I actually stumbled across this area on accident, because I wanted to go to the aquarium (it got a ton of great reviews on TripAdvisor) and while I did go to the aquarium, the Expo sights around it were even better. Apparently Lisbon hosted the World Expo some time in the 90s and this area is where it was held, so it's full of really cool, futuristic-looking buildings. It feels pretty empty (though I was there in the morning), but it's really cool to walk around.

From an Observation point in Barrio Alto

Lisbon was awesome. It was one of those cities that I just had a good feeling about before visiting, and I wasn't let down at all. I had three great days and would definitely go back next time I'm in Europe and would definitely recommend it a heartbeat. It was historical, beautiful, and full of life, food, and culture. You can't ask for much more from a city.

It's also now become a goal of mine to tell someone about my weekend in Lisbon in a vague enough way to make them think I'm talking about San Francisco.

Oh my God, Florence

If it wasn't for bad luck, I wouldn't have no luck at all.

I had a lot of trouble writing this post because I left Florence with so many stories and so much to say. I ended up with 5 and a half pages worth of raw material based off a very long series of notes in my phone. It took me a long time to decide what to leave in and take out and also how to tell it. If the final post is a tasty sausage, then this mind-numbing process of cutting, rewriting, condensing, and rearranging is the ugly process of grinding up all the nasty bits of the animal no one really wants to know about. Anyone who tells you writing is always easy and fun is either a bad writer or a liar.
          I originally wasn't planning on going to Florence, but my classmates who had visited absolutely raved about it, so I decided to check it out as a part of my trip to Bologna to see a baseball game. My day and a half in Florence can be summed up with the phrase "Oh my God, Florence." Why? Because, depending on how it's said, it can express either awe or frustration, both of which I felt a lot.

         The trip began when I realized I had bought a ticket to Florence's Rifredi station and not the main Santa Maria Novella one. The Rifredi station is small, run down, and in the middle of nowhere; 3 miles from the center of town. It was a 30 minute bus ride to get anywhere close to town. I walked through town and headed across the river to my hostel. As I walked down the street, I felt like I was in slightly cleaner version of Rome. I was a little disappointed because I expected it to be more different, but I obviously hadn't seen the main area of town yet, so I wasn't going to pass judgment.

          I walked past a gelato place called La Carraia with tons of "Best of" stickers in the window and absolutely no line. I hadn't had lunch yet, but I decided I need to do this. This was probably the best gelato I've ever had. I had Tiramisu and chocolate cookie flavor and it blew me away in both taste and texture. It was so light and creamy and flavorful. It more than made up for my day to that point.

          I then checked in to my hostel, which took a lot longer than I wanted, and went to get lunch at a place called Sandwichic that TripAdvisor rated the #1 restaurant in Florence. TripAdvisor was right. I ordered a sandwich with mortadella, caramelized onions, and cream cheese. I swear to you all, this was the best sandwich I’ve ever had. One bite and I was in heaven. This sandwich was able to reverse all the negative emotions I had from being tired and really hungry. If you’re ever in Florence, you NEED to go to Sandwichic. I cannot recommend it enough. This was the sandwich to end all sandwiches, in my eyes. 

           I then began to wander around town a bit and did some sightseeing and souvenir shopping. I eventually made my way to the town's big Cathedral and its famous dome. I was a bit of a bad traveller and hadn't researched the sights that well, assuming I'd just wander, so I didn't really know it existed. Imagine having no prior knowledge and casually turning a corner and seeing this:

Needless to say, I was stopped in my tracks. The Cathedral di Santa Maria del Fiore was one of the most amazingly beautiful buildings I've ever seen. Even coming off the immense high from Sandwichic, it amazed me. I spent the next 30 minutes slowly walking around this enormous building and taking in the art. The designs were so intricate, detailed, and colorful. It was unlike anything I've ever seen. This is the moment I finally started to feel Florence. I was like, "Yes, baby! THIS is art. THIS is Florence!" Sadly, by the time I got there, the Cathedral was closing for the day, so I didn't get a chance to go in, but my day had still been made.

I mean, just look at this thing. HOLY CRAP, MAN.

          Unfortunately, walking around the Cathedral was the high point of my day. My time in Florence was plagued by minor annoyances and bad luck, and my day went downhill from here.
           It had been raining on and off all day. I forgot to bring my umbrella, so vendors on the street would single me out and try to sell me one, but I kept stubbornly ignoring them and walking past with an attitude of “I’m a strong, independent tourist who don’t need no umbrella." It never rained hard for more than about 15 minutes and I didn't feel like it had gotten bad enough to spend my money on one, especially since I thought I had one back in Rome.

           You know how the old saying goes, right? "Pride comes before a fall." After seeing a couple cool churches, I crossed the river and headed towards Piazza Michelangelo. I took this picture while crossing the river: 

See that gray mist off in the distance? That should've been my warning. 
         I walked along a beautiful green parkway for a while, but couldn't find the entrance, so I decided to turn back and try again tomorrow because it was getting dark and I was hungry and tired.

"Mostly cloudy" my ass

I am perfectly ok with the
events that are unfolding

         It then started to rain. Since I was on a parkway and not in the city, there was no cover anywhere nearby. I found refuge under a tree, thinking I’d just wait out the worst of it, since it provided just enough cover to make it worthwhile. The rain only got harder. I got drenched to say the least. I finally decided the only way to get out of this was to leave and try to find some shelter. Thankfully, there was a bus station not too far away. I waited it out and eventually made it back to my hostel. 
          I dropped my stuff off and decided to go out for pizza. I was so tired and done with being wet that caved in and bought an umbrella from my hostel. It was really ugly, but I was beyond the point of caring.

           I got some pretty good pizza at a place called Gusta Pizza my classmates had recommended and returned to the hostel. I did some writing, showered, and got ready for a good night’s sleep, something I hadn't had in a few days. I came back from the shower and put the key in the door to unlock it and this happened:

Who does this even happen to?? This was the point I decided someone or something in Florence had it out for me. I can accept getting caught in the rain or arriving at the wrong train station, but this is too ridiculous to happen by chance. I told the manager and he said it wouldn't be a problem if the other half of the key wasn't in the door. It was. Of course it was. He explained that as long as the key was stuck in the door, it could only be opened from the inside. Since it was 1:20 AM, everybody was asleep. I was locked out. The manager offered another room, but a girl who was also locked out had an early train to catch, so we had to get into the room. We resorted to knocking. The manager insisted he do it because he was really concerned about waking up too many people. After a minute or two, a bleary-eyed guy with messy blond hair and pajama pants came and opened the door for us and went immediately back to his bed, even before we could thank or apologize to him. I felt so bad for the manager the whole time. He had this look of extreme guilt on his face and no one should have to deal with a crazy situation like this at 1 in the morning while trying to keep all the guests happy. When I checked out, he and I shared a glance of apologetic recognition.

The inside of SS Annunziando

         I got on the road by late morning and pumped myself up for the city. The rain was gone, it was beautiful and sunny, and I was going to go straight to the National Gallery and see some famous art and it was going to be great. Public museums are free in Italy on the first Sunday of the month, so I had intentionally put off the museums for the second day so I could see these masterpieces for free.
         Unfortunately, it was May 1st: Worker's Day, meaning all the public museums, including the National Gallery, were closed. "It'll be open tomorrow," they kept saying, but today was my last day in Florence. Just my luck.
          Though I was discouraged, I wandered around the neighborhood found one of my favorite churches in Italy, SS Annunziando, and a cool market to explore, so it wasn't all bad. 

         I resisted temptation to go back to Sandwichic and decided to try lunch at a place called Il Bufalo Trippone. It was incredible. It wasn't quite as good as Sandwichic, but definitely in the same league. The sandwich I had had salami, cheese, and dried tomato sauce. It was one of those meals where you take one bite and you nod your head and say "yep" several times because it's that much on point. I don’t know how Florence manages to make sandwiches so incredibly simple yet insanely delicious. I didn’t think this level of delicious was possible with only a few ingredients. I'd go back to Florence for a week if all I did was eat sandwiches and gelato.

            I then got in a big line outside the Cathedral to go up in the bell tower, which someone had recommended I do. I waited about an hour and as soon as I got in, I decided to cut the crap and head straight for the top. The bell tower has no elevator, so you have to take the stairs. A LOT of stairs. And you’re climbing up staircases that are dark, steep, and barely wide enough to fit two people. Often times, one person would have to stand to the side while another went the opposite direction. I'm glad I'm not claustrophobic and I'm also glad I'm in reasonably good shape because both those things would've otherwise made the climb up the bell tower absolute hell. 

           The climb was more than worth it though. I can’t stress how gorgeous the views were. You can see all of Florence and the surrounding countryside, especially on a clear day like it was when I was there. You also get a pretty much uninterrupted 360 degree view. The countryside was especially beautiful. It looked like something out of a postcard. I made my way around the tower 2-3 times just taking in the scenery and appreciating the beauty of the city. This was far and away the best thing I did in Florence. If you ever go, you need to do this regardless of how big of a line there is.

Actual city or Windows XP background with a city in front? You decide

          I came down exhilarated and since the ticket I bought got me into both the tower and the Cathedral, I was excited to go inside. I got in a line for it, but when I showed the security lady my ticket, she turned me away, saying it was closed. I didn't know enough Italian to argue with her or figure out how you could get in, so I decided to more or less call it a day. I got some more gelato, headed back to my hostel, and rested for a few minutes before catching a train back to Rome.

        Florence's final vengeance came after I returned to Rome. It started to rain when I was out exploring. Remember that umbrella I bought at the hostel? This is what happened to it in about 45 minutes on its second day of use. I call it "Degradation of an Umbrella in Three Parts," a comment on the fragility of the human condition:

This was the worst excuse for an umbrella I've ever seen in my entire life. Calling it a cheap, worthless piece of crap would be giving it far too much credit. I expect umbrellas to flip inside out when there's a decent amount of wind, but this thing legitimately flipped in a slight breeze and broke in the process. I could blame this on Rome because I was in Rome, but since I bought the umbrella in Florence, it was definitely Florence's fault.

         After getting home and and shaking off the exhaustion and frustration, I was left with mixed feelings about the city. On one hand, it's gorgeous, has some of the best art and architecture you'll find anywhere and has wine, sandwiches, and gelato worth dying for. On the other hand, the city is extremely touristy. Walking through Florence, I found myself wondering if anybody actually lived there. In Rome, Naples, and Bologna, if you leave the main streets, you find a residential neighborhood. with a local cafe, people's laundry would be drying on the railings, and you'd see people come and leave their homes in cars or on bikes. Florence wasn't like this. Even when I got off the beaten path a little, it seemed like the "residential" neighborhoods were mostly made up of hostels or student residences. The Italians in the town seemed like either visitors or workers and I got the sense none of them lived in town. I felt like for a city that has such a massive cultural heritage that it didn't seem to have much, if any, local culture. 

          This may not matter to some people, but it does to me. When I travel, I like seeing the sights and eating the food, but what I love is being in a place and feeling its history and culture flow through me by doing things that I can't anywhere else and trying to have an "authentic" experience (for example, when I was in Bologna, I made sure to get authentic Bolognese sauce). I didn't feel like I could do this in Florence. While I'll associate the amazing restaurants with Florence, the food and experiences didn't seem like they were part of the town's culture or heritage. The sights are beautiful and the food is incredible, but it felt like there was little to nothing beneath the surface. Looks dazzle, but I'm not going to fall in love unless there's something more there.
           Having said that, I'm glad I went to Florence. It was a beautiful, historic city and the food was great. If given the chance, I think I'd go back to Florence for a day to eat and to see the sights I missed, but I don't think I would go out of my way to visit. However, just because I didn't fall in love with it shouldn't discourage anyone from visiting. I know several people who did and loved everything about it, and even I think it's worth going just to see the sights and say you did.

More Notes on Rome

Song

You know those movies or books that are basically just a collection of short stories or vignettes, loosely united by a common theme? That's this post. Imagine me as Tarantino minus the cartoonish violence.

Rush Hour- Growing up in Los Angeles, I'm no stranger to traffic, but Rome's rush hour is pretty insane. I normally walk to class instead of take the tram because it's cheaper and the exercise justifies the plate of carbonara I'm most likely going to shove down my throat during lunch, but I've had the (dis)pleasure of being a part of Rome's rush hour a couple times. I live in Trastevere, which is a neighborhood West and across the river from the center of town. In the morning, every street on my route to class, in the center of town, is gridlocked. Cars try to squeeze through any way they can on the narrow streets, creating lots of honking and near misses.

The train on a day I walked to class.

         "Wow, that sounds bad, Noah," you're probably saying, "but you should take the train and you'll be fine, right?" Wrong. One time, I was going to take the train to class with a few classmates. The train showed up and it was so full that it was physically impossible for me to get on, even when everybody squished in as far in as they could. There was nothing I could do. I'm not small and neither is my backpack, so as the train doors closed and departed with my classmates inside, I was left at the station. It felt like one of those old movies when someone says goodbye to somebody leaving on the train, except it was more of an, "oh crap. I guess I'm walking" reaction instead of a teary, heartbreak-filled goodbye.
           However, this only seems to be a problem outside of the downtown touristy area. Once I got to the center of town (this was about 9 AM), the streets were surprisingly empty. I guess the tourist area doesn't get busy until later in the day.

Cappuccinos are the best. Never let anyone tell
you otherwise.

Coffee- Coffee culture is everywhere and I love it. Every restaurant or snack bar has coffee, every street vendor sells espresso makers, and I've even seen a few coffee vending machines. This all means that I haven't had a bad cup since I've been here (I'm not doing that cup I had on the plane the decency of calling it "coffee"). Cappuccinos have become my drink of choice. For those of you who don't know, it's a shot of espresso with warm, foamy milk (and sometimes cocoa powder) on top. It's simple, but delicious. It's cheap as hell too. The most I've paid for coffee here is €1.5, which, even with the exchange rate, is still cheaper than any halfway decent cup of coffee I could get in the US. Granted, the portions are smaller since coffee and espresso mean the same thing here, but it doesn't matter because it's so good and these little shots of espresso pack a punch in terms of caffeine. One shot of espresso does me just as well as a 16 oz drip coffee. Unfortunately for me, an avid iced coffee drinker, it's a lot harder to find cold coffee. It exists and is called either a freddo (basically sweet cold brew espresso) or a shakerato (made by shaking ice, sugar, and hot espresso together in a cocktail shaker), but they're usually a little more expensive and harder to find.

Have a generic crowd shot for lack of anything else relevant

Clothing- People seem put a lot more effort into fashion here than they do in America. The Romans dress well and seem make an effort to look nice and put together outfits. As someone who puts next to no effort into fashion as it is, I feel a bit underdressed. This is especially true when I wear shorts. Wearing shorts is a great way to immediately be identified as a tourist. The only people I've seen wearing shorts, even in warmer weather, are foreigners. The only Italians who don't have their legs covered are women wearing skirts and children. Ever since I realized this, I've tried to wear long pants when I can and when it isn't too hot, but since the rest of my wardrobe consists of t-shirts and tennis shoes, I still look like an underdressed foreigner. Part of me wants to try to dress the part of a European a little more, but the other part of me knows I don't have money to burn (I'd rather spend it on food) or an adequate knowledge of fashion to make it happen.

Sandwich with chicken, pork, lamb, and chicory. Oh god yes

The Standard of Food: One of the things I've noticed is that in Italy, the standard of food seems to be much higher than in America. There are very few chains, meaning every other restaurant is locally owned. This makes me happy. There also seems to be an emphasis on fresh ingredients and local products. It's like this place was made for a food lover/hipster like me. Both of these things make a huge difference in the quality of food (free cooking tip while I'm at it: Fresh ingredients absolutely matter). Even the more average meals I've had here are as good as the above average ones in America. Though I still try to go to the highest-rated places, there's much less of a risk at ending up getting a subpar meal than if you wander into any restaurant in the US. I'm not going to lie, the food is probably my favorite thing about Rome.

The Communist Party door I mentioned. I love the fact that it's
red. It's so cool, it's Com-rad. I'll see myself out.

The Presence of Communism- In America, thanks to Mr. McCarthy and others, "communist" and "socialist" have (unjustly) become dirty words few are willing to publicly associate with. However, the only Red Scare in Italian history was called "fascism," and we all know how well that went over. Therefore, Communism doesn't have the stigma it does in America, so it's still alive and kicking. It's pretty common to see the sickle and hammer graffitied on walls when you're out walking, and I've also seen some campaign posters for Communist politicians. On my way to class, I also pass by an office for the Communist Party, sitting there amongst the gelato shops and a gift stores on a big street. It's something that shouldn't surprise me but does. Communism is such a taboo thing in American politics that I've been led to believe it's a dead philosophy nobody but extremists believe in any more. That may be true in the US, but definitely not in Italy.

Taken in downtown Naples, on one of the major streets. 

Crosswalks- Pedestrian signals are completely arbitrary. Crossing the street is all about being opportunistic. There are pedestrian signals (which look like stoplights, but with a pedestrian silhouette), but following them might actually be more dangerous than just jaywalking. Often times, the light will be red but no traffic is coming, so it's perfectly safe to go. Other times, the signal is green, so you step out in the street and almost get run over by a Porsche, a taxi, and 3 motor scooters, who all honk at you to get out of their way. For big roads, the signals do help, but in general, it's best to disregard the signal and cross when others cross or when there's no traffic coming. Roman drivers also think they own the road and won't hesitate to honk at you or speed past you when you're a foot or two away. I never want to drive here. I feel like I'd get in a crash within a week, and I consider myself a pretty good driver.

I take classes in this building.

Classes- Oh yeah, those. That's right, Noah's actually doing studying in Europe and not just taking a 3 month vacation. Kinda forgot, right? I'm taking one about 20th century Italian history through film and one about Early Modern Europe. They're alright, though it's hard when they have to cram a quarter's worth of work into 5 weeks. If you thought the quarter system was fast-paced, try this on for size. Because of this tight schedule, the classes are 3 hours long. I don't care how interesting the class is--that's brutal. Oh, and I'm procrastinating on them by writing this post. Whoops.