Okay, I have been seriously neglecting this blog–partly because I’ve been lazy, partly because I’ve discovered the joy of keeping a physical journal to write in.

This past week has been hectic, and I can literally see my grades slipping. I got one paper back and in the three grade categories fikk jeg: D/F, F, and N/A. So yeah, I’m redoing that paper.

Lately, I’ve also felt a huge urge to just get out and do something. For the first time, college is an imprisonment. I feel trapped by all this work; there isn’t enough time to go out and explore Ticino, Switzerland, Europe, the world.

But hopefully that urge will be soon appeased, as I will be going to a Natasha St-Pier concert on Wednesday! (To put things into context, Natasha St-Pier was my inspiration to learn French in the first place. I first heard “Un ange frappe à ma porte” on a flight to Hawai’i a 4 years ago, and from there my interest in the francophone world only exponentiated. [That's probably not even a word, but it felt justifiably fitting.]) I am thinking of taking the train after Italian in the morning to Morges and spending the day in either Lausanne or Morges. The concert starts at 20:30, and the only thing I am concerned about is making the train to Zurich (the last train departs at 22:30); and oh yeah–I will be CouchSurfing in Zurich! This will be my first CouchSurfing experience, so I’m very excited for it.

For Thanksgiving, I will be going down to visit min søte Jessica in Vailate. I’ve been talking to her a bit both on Skype and Facebook, and it will be so koselig to see her in person again. And I’m excited to use the Italian that I’ve learned in school, in addition to picking up some new slang as well.
I met Jessica last year as an exchange student in Norway; she lived up in Gol while I lived in Horten. In the beginning, there was a huge language barrier since I couldn’t speak any Italian and neither of us spoke Norwegian, but as the year went by I feel that we have grown closer despite seeing each other very rarely. (It became also much easier to talk with her as she improved both her English and Norwegian immensely.)
I will be taking the train down to Italy Friday, and since she has school during the daytime, the tentative plan is that I will explore Treviglio (the city where she goes to school) by myself during the day before meeting up with her and spending the weekend in Vailate. An attempt at turkey-baking and a visit to an ordentlig Italian discoteca is also planned in the itinerary. All in all, I’m very very excited and it’s going to be wonderful hearing her cheerful voice and seeing her smile again.

The weekend after Thanksgiving, I plan on going to visit Geneva and doing some exploring there. Even though it is the weekend before finals, I figure I will get some studying done on the train there, right?

And after finals (which seems so far away but is in reality very close upon us), I will head up to Alsace to visit Marie Demeulenaere and meet her family before heading back to the US for winter vacation. (Marie was also an exchange student in Norway; she lived up in Asker and we’ve had some great times together along the Oslofjorden.)

Yep, that’s the news. I guess I should write more about current news, but the upcoming plans seem much more exciting. Til neste gang, ha det så lenge!

Jeg har vært kjampelat med bloggen min i det siste så nu tar jeg litt tid for å oppdatere dåkk om mine nye favoritter!

Shakira Lo Hecho Está Hecho

Martin Stenmarck 7milakliv

Alex Ubago ft. Sharon Corr Ammarado a Ti

Søndag, 8.11:
1. Trip to Ascona and Locarno with Louise.
2. Getting an amazing tour of both Ascona and Locarno from Barbara who goes to the Tourism School in Bellinzona.
3. Spicy pizza with olives, artichokes, prosciutto crudo, and mushrooms.
4. Evening kos at P8.
5. A reason to revisit Brno…

Lørdag, 7.11:
1. Downtown with Emma, Luiza, and Bryce.
2. Getting white hot chocolate at La Bottega del Caffè.
3. Switching seats at La Bottega del Caffè to check out guys.
4. Flytting til Panera 8!

Fredag, 6.11:
1. 80’s Fest hos Luiza.
2. Sov hos Andrew.

Torsdag, 5.11:
1. V for Vendetta på P8.

+ Went to the doctor’s
+ Went to the sauna
+ Spa night hos jentene ned bakken
+ Gikk på tur langs vannet
+ Litt aleinetid med han søte som jobber på kantinen

Også har jeg flyttet ut av Panera. Alle mine ting er hos naboene. Nu sitter jeg på en kafè i Locarno. Slapp lördag!

It’s been a week since my train débâcle, and after some time and distance from it…I can still stand by my original opinion of TrenItalia. Det suger, liksom!
So what happened was this: after an amazing day walking through and getting lost in Venice (which, if I may digress for a bit, is the most beautiful city I have ever visited. I don’t care if people say it’s overtouristy–perhaps it is, but I like it that way; it’s romantic, picturesque, and it’s exceeded my expectations in every way.), I decided to take an earlier train home so I could get back to Lugano by 7PM in order to finish my schoolwork. And here begin my grievances:

They charge me €8 for riding on a different train than I had purchased tickets for. Well, I thought, “Va bene, at least now you know.” However, I didn’t have any Euros on me and asked if I could pay in Swiss Francs. He charged me 30CHF. Only after paying him 20CHF did I realize that he was bullshitting me. (For those who don’t know, €8 is roughly the equivilant of 13CHF.) Trying to stay positive, I had managed to convince myself that paying a little extra was necessary to ensure that I got home early. Little did I know…

My journey courtesy of TrenItalia!

The train that I was on, from Venezia Santa Lucia to Milano Centrale, unexpectedly stopped in Verona. After half an hour of waiting in silence, the conductor announced over the intercom that a man had killed himself sulla ferrovia. (Whether he jumped overboard or hopped in front of the tracks is unbeknownst to me.) So instead of continuing to Milano Centrale, we took a detour–to Bologna.

From Bologna, we slowly chugged our way up towards Milan, with stops in Modena and Piacenza. After six productive hours, we finally reached Milano Centrale. Ironically, I reached Milan even later than I would have if I had taken the train I originally purchased the ticket for. Needless to say, I missed my connection from Milan to Lugano, but was lucky enough not to have missed the last train from Milan to Bellinzona. With almost two hours to kill, I took the time to eat my apple and explore the outside of Milano Centrale and the metro.

In the end, I made it home at around 2AM in the morning. But considering how I did most of my homework on the train, I guess it wasn’t so bad after all.

These next couple of days are very exciting and eventful. Right now I’m still debating whether or not to go to Zürich today. (It’s currently 3:40AM and I would have to get to the train station by 8AM.) Will have a handful of midterms next week, closely followed by the arrival of my Norwegian family on Thursday. Unfortunately, I won’t have the opportunity to be with them for so long because on Monday, I leave for the Czech Republic and Slovakia on Academic Travel.
I’ve also finalized my plans for Thanksgiving! I will be spending the long weekend down in Vailate with Jessica! There are tentative plans to make turkey, which I’m very excited for.
And as for Christmas, hopefully I will be able spend a week over at Marie’s place in either Normandy or Paris before flying home to California.

Wow, I hope all this talk of traveling doesn’t make me sound spoiled rotten. The truth is, I am grateful for every moment of it and am loving life right now. La vita è bella. Ma adesso–devo dormire.

Ciao a tutti!

I am writing from Oderzo, Italy. (Look up its location on Wikipedia. It’s mindblowing realizing where in the world I am right now. In fact, all of today has been so surreal.) With a little help from Sandro, I successfully took the train from Lugano to Venice. Although the connection in Milan was hellish. (Note to self: Italian trains are not like Norwegian trains. And by that I mean they don’t always arrive on time. In fact, I have a theory that they rarely arrive on time.)

I had planned on exploring Oderzo in the morning, but alas, the luxury of having my own bed (as opposed to a bunk bed) in my own private room prevented me from getting out of bed until well past 11. Comunque, after breakfast with the rest of Francesco’s family (who are all very accommodating), I took the bus from Oderzo to Treviso.

Spent the day in Treviso with Francesco, Faustina, and some of his friends. Call me cheesy, or weird, or retardedly sentimental, but I feel lucky and amazed to have experienced today. I mean, how many people can say they have really witnessed the life of an Italian teenager? It was so interesting just to be with them, walking around town, chilling on the playground, making fun of passerbys.

We took the bus home late afternoon and saw the majority of Mannen som Elsket Yngve, which is a surprisingly (or not…if you’re me) good film, before being treated to a delicious dinner of roast beef, potatoes, salad with oil and vinegar, and breadcrumbs-stuffed paprika.

Tomorrow I hope to see a good deal of Venice before taking the train back to Lugano. A suivre…

Life has me at an emotional and moral wreck. This week has been perhaps the most difficult so far. So to reward myself…or rather, to save myself from completely imploding: I’m departing tomorrow for a weekend in Venice. I’ll be staying at Francesco’s place; it will be so nice to see him again! It’s so strange how I run to him for comfort even after my year in Norway has wrapped up. I remember being afraid of losing contact with all the AFSers I had met and befriended while in Norway, and at the time, his answer to me was: “Maybe we will [keep in touch], maybe we won’t.” While it wasn’t the reassuring response I was hoping for, it was, au moins, the truthful answer. And well, now I have my answer.

I guess I should elaborate a bit. Francesco and I met through AFS. And despite my terrible memory, I remember precisely how I met him. It was August 2nd, 2008, and it was our first day there. After the airport, the AFS organizers shipped us all to a gathering location somewhere outside of Oslo. Exchange students from all over the world, tasting our first smørbrød, sipping our first saft (and not knowing that it was supposed to be mixed with water). I remember the Italians came, filling almost an entire bus–a swarm of yellow shirts: cambiare il mondo…they read.

I remember going down to a lake and wading in the water, and approaching two Italians: one with a braid, and one that reminded me of a younger version of Bob Saget. Little did I know how often I would be conversing with Francesco and Yuri.

After they split us into our regional groups and sent us on the bus to Torpo, I found out that Francesco was my roommate for the week-long orientation camp. (Camp–it brings back so many fun memories, it’s so easy to get lost marveling about camp. It was most definitely one of the most exciting weeks of my life: meeting people from all over the world, learning Norwegian language and culture, that tinge of nervousness at meeting our host families.) And every night, we would spent an hour or two just discussing random things: life, music, “medieval” Italy and xenophobia in America. I guess it never really hit me how easily we got along with each other: so different, yet compatible. I felt at ease around him. And on the fourth day of knowing him, I came out to him. (Which, at the time, was something I had never done before. I never felt secure enough to tell a person that until I felt like I knew them. Whether it was because I wanted a change…or just the fact that I already knew I trusted him…I don’t really know. But it was a good feeling.)
And there is one thing he said to me that I will never forget as long as I live. We were discussing the difficulty of being an immigrant and visibly different, even in an area as diverse as the Bay Area, or perhaps it was because of that diversity which never truly made me feel American. Anyway, he said to me, “I think you are a real American. You are the new American.” Hearing that immediately made my eyes water; there is something inexplicable about those words. Because he said so easily what I’ve always secretly wanted to believe in my head.

And through the rest of our year there, Siljan was the place I would take a train to whenever I need to feel comforted, whenever the coldness of Horten Videregående became unbearable. And here I am again. September, 2009, in another country, taking another train, but still going to the same place. Still going to “hos Francesco.”–

–For a much needed vacation. The energy here at Panera lately has been sluggish and depressing. (I’ve been sleeping down the hill at Girasole three nights out of four this week.) And I find myself too entangled in something I shouldn’t be. Too attached to someone I shouldn’t be. So needless to say, I need this getaway. I need a break from college. And I need someone removed to focus on, to enjoy life with, to open my eyes and pull me out of my myopic vision.

I’ll conclude my post with something lighthearted and unreflective: So apparently, searching for these terms will take you to my blog: fucking in asgardstrand,  kom hit nu flossy,  la voglia che vorrei translation. (I know, right? I didn’t even fuck in Åsgårdstrand…)

Jeg tar dette verre enn jeg skulle.

Har snakka med familien min. Har snakka med Anniken. Har snakka med Acacia.

Men det gjør fremdeles vondt. (Alle.)

Det verste følelse er at han skal aldri vite kor dårlig jeg har det. Hvordan han gjør mæ lykkelig. Og trist. Disse tingene får jeg aldri til å innrømme til ham.

So this is the mood I get into when I’m drunk now. I can’t afford to love you.

Friday night: Soho with Bryce, Cam, Sam, Isabeau
Saturday: walked to Ponte Tresa, Italy, with Quinn and Acacia
Saturday night: naufrage

I can’t make you love me if you don’t.
I can’t make your heart feel something it won’t.

I’m sure I haven’t ever caused anyone to feel the way I feel right now. I just don’t have that kind of power over people. And if I have this must be God’s way of sending karma back to me. Faen.

Every night I go to bed, filled with the tiniest bit of hope of everything that could be. Every morning I face the reality of all that simply cannot be.

Comparing hands: one palm against another fremmed one. Marveling over how right it seemed to be, that they would be the same size, that they would lace so well. Our pinkies topple and fall, og det går uten objection. Our ring fingers follow i stillhet, skjer det virkelig? Another one, and I could only imagine the look in your eyes as our hands make a funny gun shape. L’indice après, but we are only in prayer for a second as your thumb moves in front of mine.

Jeg vil kjenner det. Livet er ikke verdt å leve uten kjærlighet.