Apparently, My Bathing Suits Are Too Short For Suburban Housewives With Small Children

First of all, I’m back in suburbia and was just about to learn how to tie a noose  because it’s so boring here, but then Monday happened.  So I went to the grocery store to buy everything needed to make Ina Garten’s Flag Cake, which has a cream cheese frosting with which I’m not thrilled, and in honor of the unofficial start of Summer, I wore a very standard Palm Beach outfit for me which is just a bathing suit and a polo shirt.  Well some beyond incompetent mother had the nerve to come up to me and tell me that my Vilebrequin bathing suit (which was not cheap, I might add) was too short to be worn in a place with children and that she and “other mothers” found my rudeness to be insulting.  Somewhat confused, I simply looked at her, smiled and said, “That’s nice, but I don’t really care” before walking away.  I’m sorry, suburbia, but my bathing suit is only 2.5 inches shorter than standard “American” bathing suits (I measured).  It’s not like I’m wearing a thong/speedo (the whole Simon Van Kempen thing isn’t for me) and I’d rather have a shark eat my legs before I put on a pair of those extra-long boardshorts.  To say the least, it made for an entertaining moment.

So I have to say that it’s a bit weird to be back home, but only because when you go from being busy every single day to suddenly having nothing to do, it makes trying to even get dressed every day seem like a difficult task because there’s nothing I have to do aside from attempt to unpack.

So after arriving in Milan, I expected mother to meet me at our hotel, the Hotel Principe Di Savoia, but no, instead I was told to meet her on the Via della Spiga.

The hotel, which isn’t exactly in the middle of the city, provided a complimentary car to all of the shopping areas, so as if mother was waiting for me to show up.  I ended up with one thing, a safari jacket I had been looking at from Allegri since December.  It’s not a true safari jacket, but rather a safari-style rain coat that I got in a slate-color in an attempt to shake things up a bit in my closet.  I have to thank Justin for not only encouraging me to buy it, but for also getting me completely obsessed with the safari jacket look before everyone started doing them.  Also, I justified buying it (like I need a reason) because it’s replacing this rain coat I’ve had since the 9th Grade that is Burberry, reversible (navy one one side and nova check on the other) and just not for me anymore.  I wore that thing to the movies and treated it as more of a jacket than a rain coat.  And no, I NEVER wore it nova check out.  I’m not crazy or from Hollywood.  The funniest memory I have of wearing that jacket was the night Grace and I went to dinner and then the grocery store and I wore that jacket and she had on her Burberry nova check boots and people stared at us like we were that couple that matches.  I’m giving it to Mother who will also use it for trips to the grocery store and to the hair dressers.

Dinner our first evening was at a lovely restaurant on Corso Como, Alla Cucina delle Langhe, which is courtesy of mother’s seatmate on the plane-ride over to Milan.  Sadly, it wasn’t Snooki, but instead she sat next to someone named Patrick who works for Loro Piana.  And this being my mother, instead of asking for discount, she asks for restaurants in Milan.  I love her, but their cashmere sweaters cost over $600 and I would LOVE this half-zip one they have in burgundy so badly.

So Friday was probably the most amazing day of my life and mother’s life because we first began with the most amazing breakfast we’ve ever had in the hotel’s restaurant.  Then, following more extreme shopping on both our parts, we headed to the restaurant Paper Moon, which is right in the heart of the shopping district and a great place to unwind; it’s also a great place to do some people-watching, which mother and I could get an Olympic Gold Medal for doing.  We thoroughly enjoyed watching the caspian sea of Russian blondes stream in and out following a lunch consisting of three pieces of lettuce and two bites of a 20€ pizza.

After lunch, we high-tailed it past mother’s close friend, Muccia (and by close, I mean we went to every Prada in Milan) and decided to see the Last Supper, which was actually worth the pain of getting those tickets.  Though, I have to be honest, I kind of liked the fresco on the other side of the refectory a little better than Leonardo’s great masterpiece.

So as it turns out, right next to the Last Supper is this store I read about in Departures last Spring named Bernardini and I’ve been dying to go ever since I read about it so of course I schlepped mother there.  Bernardini is this vintage, luxury travel store and while we didn’t buy anything, it was fun to see everything they had for sale and in case anyone truly loves me, there is this Rolex in the window second window from the door that I’d love!  From Bernardini, we strolled around this very residential and less-touristy part of Milan before realizing that it was almost time for what will forever be one of the all-time highlights of our lives, the opera.

Now as many of y’all know, the Teatro alla Scala is without question the greatest theatre in the world when it comes to opera and when mother and I found two tickets available, we jumped on them before looking at the price.  We were in the front row, orchestra, therefore making me so close to the conductor that I kind of spent the majority of  Act One watching him sing than I did watch the stage.  We were at La Scala for the final night of the opera season and the closing night of Giacomo Puccini’s superb opera, Turandot.  Seeing “Nessun Dorma” be performed at La Scala actually brought tears to my eyes because my Italian teacher in prep school played Pavarotti’s rendition of it at least once a week for the two years I took Italian with her and it was just so breathtaking that I don’t think I’ll ever be able to properly describe the experience.

La Scala’s stage with the curtain being raised

I don’t think I’ll ever forget that evening for the rest of my life and I’m so grateful to my mother for not even looking at the price of those billets and just giving me her credit card number so we could buy them.  A side note to the folks at La Scala, it was so damn hot in that theatre that it made sitting in the Verona Amphitheater in the deathly heat of July so I could see the Barber of Seville tolerable!  Y’all need to get some air conditioning because I was beginning to schvitze by the end of the performance!

So meanwhile, Saturday arrived and we spent our final day in Northern Italy taking a “short” two-hour train-ride two stops from Venice to Vincenza.  Now the last time we spoke, I said that all there was to do in Vincenza was to visit the Bottega Veneta factory store but as it turns out, I was wrong.  Apparently, Vincenza is really known for the Palladian villas, and of course this would happen to me, but the most famous of the villas is the same one from which UVa founder Thomas Jefferson copied in order to design the Rotunda, so y’all know we went to see La Rotunda.

Let me say this, if anyone is dumb enough to let their mother convince them that Vincenza is a short train-ride away from Milan, don’t go.  And if you end up going, RENT A CAR!  It was so difficult to get to La Rotunda because mother just expects things to run very smoothly and effortlessly so clearly she hasn’t spent enough time in Italy to know that neither of those two things is possible.  We also visited the Teatro Olimpico, which was kind of a special place, but, and I feel bad saying this, it wasn’t La Scala.  It was my fault because I was still on a mental high from the night before so I didn’t really give it the attention it deserved.

Now don’t think for one second we came all this way and didn’t stop by to see the Bottega factory outlet.  Oh, we went and we didn’t even have an address to give the cab driver, but he knew exactly where we wanted to go.  The address, in case anyone wants to know, is Viale della Scienza, 9/11.  So here’s the thing, it’s nowhere near the city center and is really in the industrial part of the city, which makes sense since the Bottega factory is directly across the street.  Also, there wasn’t a whole lot that grabbed my attention, or mother’s for that matter.  At most, they had this one wallet, but considering all the damage I had done this semester, I figured I needed to start thinking about stopping.  Our dinner that night was courtesy of our hotel’s concierge and was so touristy that I won’t even bother mentioning it.

On Sunday, we took the train down to Siena so mother could see where I lived and spend some time exploring the city after we took photos of our hotel room in Milan because it was so stunning!  That bathroom had the most amazing shower of all time and I’ve told mother that I’m having that shower head installed in my bathroom at home.  Plus, I took this kind of neat photo in the bathroom of my watch:

In Siena, we ditched my dumpy apartment and headed instead for the Grand Hotel Continental, which was so much nicer than where I lived for the previous four months.  Our room was beautiful and had this amazing view of the Duomo:

I showed her all the sights and took her to a great little dinner not too far from our hotel that I frequented from time to time.  We went to Grom, where I had my final May flavor of the month.  On Monday, we visited the Duomo and strolled around the city before us and our seven bags (including mother’s purse) headed to the train station.

Now I love my mother, but the woman is useless at helping with the bags.  Normally, I’d accept this simply because she’s never helped before so why should she start now, but this time, it was a bit hard for me to manage them all by myself.  Once we arrived in Florence, I was ready to kill her because we only had a very short amount of time between our train from Siena arriving and our train to Rome leaving.  So when we went to board our train to Rome, I put her and her bags on board and then put my Ralph bag on the train before the big suitcases.  I asked her to just move the bag and she looks at it like it has some terminal illness and just taps the bag ever so slightly, but as if that thing moved.  In the meantime, a lovely line began to form as I struggled with my lovely seven bags.  At least someone took pity on me when we arrived in Rome.

When we arrived in Rome, we headed first to our hotel, the Hotel Slpendide Royal, which looked onto the Borghese Gardens, but was still just a block from the Via Veneto and only five minutes from the Via Condotti.  The view from where we had breakfast was so amazing as it looked out on this sea of green with the Vatican off in the distance.  Fortunately, both mother and I have done the major tourist sites in Rome so we had more time to do things we would have otherwise had to miss.

So I made the executive decision (because someone had to) that we would make Tuesday our shopping day and Wednesday our “cultural” day, even though members of my family believe that the Via Condotti is an historical site since both Bulgari and Buccellati were founded on that street!  In addition to shopping, I also took mother just three blocks away from the Via Condotti so we could visit my all time favorite gelateria, Giolitti.  I went four times over two days:

Tuesday night, mother wasn’t feeling too great so we headed to the nearby Via Veneto for a simple dinner and ended up at Ristorante Tuna, which was a lovely seafood restaurant.  I think we sat next to three members of the mafia however.  The restaurant had a very Upper East Side feel to it with a very Upper East Side kind of clientele, which was fine because let’s be honest, I’m a little Upper East Side boy and my mother doesn’t like to leave the Upper East Side when she’s in New York.

Wednesday, our last day in Italy, was spent doing a tiny bit of shopping for my aunt, but then we went first to see the Richard Meier-designed Ara Pacis museum, which was… interesting.  Ara Pacis was a peace alter built for Emperor Augustus  and located in his Campus Martius.  Unfortunately, I feel as though we were ripped off by the Italians because we paid about 15€ a person to just see the alter and nothing else because the other exhibit wasn’t opening until later in the week, but the space itself was simply breathtaking and the way Meier designed it to really focus all of the attention on the alter was just brilliant.  There was a great deal of natural light throughout the space the just made it this very calm and serene space that just happens to be in the middle of bustling Rome.  I mean, there’s a major road that’s right next to the museum, but you almost seem to forget it’s there because the space is just so peaceful.

From Ara Pacis, we then walked a very long way toward the Forum to get lunch at Tricolore, which was a really neat place with delicious sandwiches.  Despite being right next to the busiest tourist parts of all of Rome, the restaurant is in this neighborhood that is in a world unto itself.  There were very few tourists, simple shops, hairdressers; it had a very locals only feel to it, which is what I enjoy the most about any city because there are times when you need to escape the tour groups.   The place is so brilliantly designed because they have little sinks around the walls so you can come in, wash your hands and then sit at this counter that has ovens all around the base and order your sandwich or panino.  Raised in a vertical position around the marble counter are about eight, maybe nine ranges and you just sit there and order your lunch and Pellegrino and it’s prepared in the back, which you can see from where you’re sitting.  It’s very small and really designed as a take-out place, complete with take-out window, but they love having people stay for lunch, which we did.  I honestly believe it was one of the best meals I had in all of Italy and it was a sandwich covered in warm prosciutto on the most amazing bread ever!

After lunch, a very grumpy and gradually annoying mother and I took a taxi (because someone wore the wrong shoes) over to see the Borghese Gallery, which had been closed for the past fifteen years for a renovation/restoration project (which doesn’t surprise me because the Italians are well… slow) and had just reopened.  Well, a word of advice, book early and ladies, don’t bring a purse because they make you check them before you can enter; they give you a little bag which I had to carry that can hold your wallet, but that’s it.  It was a little strange.  Now, the galleries were lovely and all, but at the end of the day, 15th-18th century art isn’t really my thing because I’m more of a 19th-20th century art fan, plus Jeff Koons because I love those poodles and want one in my front yard.  That said, there were some lovely pieces and the building itself was an amazing space nonetheless.

After our visit ended, we strolled in the Borghese gardens for a while before getting ready for dinner, which proved my mother is insane.  So we had made reservations at this place that was kind of on the other side of the city so we take a taxi over there and she won’t get out of the taxi because “it looks creepy.”  This was because she didn’t see anyone in her age group there and there were only 20-somethings walking around.  So instead, we went to this other restaurant we had heard about called Cucina Roscioli, which was out of this world amazing!  It’s really a salumeria that happens to have a restaurant and so we sat next to a wall of wine and across from refrigerator cases filled with cheeses and meats.  As an added bonus, this guy who looked like an Italian version of Stanley Tucci was seated across from us and was staring at mother the entire time!  It was a great way to end our time in Italy and a phenomenal final meal in Italy.

Thursday Morning had us up and in the taxi by 6h0, so we missed breakfast.  Then, five minutes into the taxi ride, I realized I had left my iPod in our room so we had to race right back and retrieve it.  This was a first for me because usually I’m always on top of where everything I have is located.  From there, it was off to Fiumicino for the flight back to America.  Thursday also happened to be Andrew’s 21st birthday so as if I was going to pass up being in New York for that!  So, when the plane landed in fabulous New Jersey!, I put mother on the train to Baltimore and headed straight for Manhattan to celebrate his birthday with Maggie, Nathaniel, Caroline, and of course, Andrew at Café Gitane in the Jane Hotel.  It was so much fun and we had such a good time celebrating Andrew’s big day, even though he was on the tail-end of a cold and by the time dinner arrived, my body thought that it was 1h0 Friday morning!  I went to bed at what my body thought was 6h0 Friday morning and was up by 8h0, so I think that it actually helped my body re-adjust to EST.

Friday morning, following a little food shopping for mother and me, I hoped on the Acela with three enormous bags (I condensed since I knew it would just be me) and headed down to Baltimore for the Preakness.  Friday night was the traditional Chinese food dinner we always have and then Saturday, it was off to the Baltimore ghetto to go to the races.  I was in a so-so mood that day because my cousin and I got into a bit of a tiff and I just didn’t really have the usual excitement about being there that I’ve had in years past.  However, I ended up having a great day at the races because I broke with my usual “methodical” selection of the horses on which I want to bet and picked the winner, Shackleford, simply because I liked his racing colors.  I won $60 on one $5 bet, which was amazing and I ended the day making quite a bit of money, which was good for me.  As an added bonus, mother and I did something I’ve waited years to do and that was buy two Black-Eyed Susans, the official drink of the Preakness:

Since returning home, I’ve been struggling to dig myself out of the obscene amount stuff I have between the mail, the clothes and the stuff I bought, but I’m down to just one or two last things.  I’ve been baking, grilling and getting ready to head to Charlottesville for a month so I can take a fun-filled science course.  However, there was one event that occurred last weekend that I still can’t believe I attended.  So Grace has decided that since she can’t show horses anymore, she’s now going to compete in dog shows with the not-so-little Henry Flagler.  Y’all, I’ve never been to a dog show before so I had no idea what to expect when we arrived and so to say that it was a spectacle is like saying that the Real Housewives of New Jersey are completely normal people and that there’s nothing wrong with their trailer-park-trash lives.  This was just insanity at its finest.  We met a woman who has TWELVE Corgis and travels the country with her husband and daughter selling dog grooming supplies and showing her dogs; we saw just a whole bunch of crazies and I have to say, I almost stole four dogs.  Though at one point, Grace asks this lady with four King Charles Cavaliers where she got her crate for her dogs and I mentioned that the dogs were so well-behaved and she tried to sell me one.  At that point, I mentioned that my parents would kill me if I brought a dog home because we already have one and when I told her that Buddy was a (very expensive) mixed-breed, she turned around and walked away without saying another word!  I still love my cockapoo, even if he is a mixed-breed.  I just have to say this to Walter: Get Grace another horse because those dog show people are crazy and I miss the fact that I could look for a girlfriend at the horse shows; you can’t do that at a dog show because a lot of the people there lacked teeth!  Anyway, it was an experience that I will never partake in again.

Finally today, I guess the time has come for me to really look back on my semester and express my overall opinion on it.  In short, I loved Italy and being there and being able to explore it was just something I’ll never forget.  However, I picked the wrong program.  It was too small and there wasn’t really anyone with whom I really clicked.  Some of those girls were flat out rude to me, while others were nice to me, but not necessarily people with whom I plan on being life-long friends.  I tried my best to be friendly and go along with the group, but in the end, it was made very clear that I wasn’t really welcome so I did my own thing and had a great time.  No, I don’t regret going at al, however, Siena was always back-up since I couldn’t study in Paris due to having too many transfer credits from Rollins, so I didn’t really have the same enthusiasm I might have had if I had spent the semester in Paris, but oh well.  As I said, in the end, I had a great time in Italy, but just not with the people in my program.

Anyway, this officially concludes the travel guide only part of the blog and next week, I’ll be returning to writing about life and the crazies I call friends who are in it.  Until next time…

-JD

All My Bags are Packed, I’m Ready to Go to Milan, Vincenza and Rome. Then Maybe We’ll Think About That Jet Plane Back to the States

That’s right, by the time this posts itself, I will be on a Eurostar headed north to meet Mother in Milano and officially on summer vacation!  While I won’t really have time to “reflect”on my time here in Siena until next Thursday on my nine hour, forty minute flight back to New York (okay fine, Newark) from Rome, I did genuinely enjoy my time here in Tuscany.  Siena is a very beautiful city that y’all should spend more than the two hours it seems that most tourists spend here.  I’ll save my overall “reflection” of my semester here in Siena for two weeks from now, after I’ve had a chance to actually see my own home and reflect properly on my time here.

This week is going to be quite insane.  I’m heading to Milan today to meet mother and tomorrow, I managed to get us tickets to see Leonardo’s Last Supper, which was not easy at all.  In fact, it was as if they don’t want me to visit , but as if that stopped me.  I called that damn number every two minutes nonstop for three straight hours!  Then our concierge at our hotel in Milan, the Hotel Principe di Savoia, told me how to get them because they’re apparently not allowed or something stupid like that.  Whatever, I got them and I got a student discount which is how I’m sticking it to the Italians for putting me through all the trouble of getting the damn tickets.  Apparently, they sell the majority of the tickets to tour guides who include the Last Supper in their waste of time tour, but your best bet is to check on Mondays because that’s when they show openings from people canceling, which is how I found my two tickets.

As a special treat, though, Friday night is about the opera.  Mother has wanted to go to see an opera at La Scala for years and lucky for us, Friday night is the final performance of Puccini’s Turandot and we got tickets!  This is actually going to be pretty amazing simply because it’s La Scala and if y’all need any help in knowing what it is, let me put in a basic of a way as possible: if you’re an opera singer and you perform at La Scala, you can basically die the next day having lived a complete life.  There is no greater honor than to perform in La Scala and once you’ve done that you really can’t do anything else that can top it, unless you marry Prince Harry, in which case, yeah, you can.

On Saturday, we’re visiting Vincenza, a city known for one big thing: Bottega Veneta‘s factory and headquarters are both located there (as is a factory outlet).  And she didn’t think I know that!  Please, I remember her going on and on about how she wanted to go to Vincenza for Bottega Veneta when we were in Italy in 2007.  I’m okay with this because the black wallet I want is from Bottega and as much as I love it, I’d rather put that 210€ toward the Allegri safari jacket I plan/hope to get in either Milan or Rome.  Maybe she’ll remember me talking about how unique the wallet was (it’s black, but there’s a lot of hunter green mixed in and it’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen before and I’m trying to move away from my longtime staple color of blue and I’ve gone to green and I just love the contrast of the colors) and take care of a birthday present now, and you can never start too early with those hints!  Please, I start dropping hints about birthday presents for next year the day after my birthday!

From Vincenza, where I imagine I won’t see anything besides Bottega, which is fine because Italian fashion is kind of like a national treasure, we’re moving down south to Siena for the night on Sunday so Mother can see where I’ve been living these past few months.

Finally, we’re spending the last few days of our time in Rome.  I’m so excited because we honestly have nothing planned and we’ll just see what happens.  However, next Thursday, when they open that cabin door in Newark, it’s off to Manhattan because I’ll be arriving just in time for Andrew’s twenty-first birthday!  I am SO excited for this because well, Andrew’s turning twenty-one and I don’t think this requires any further explanation.  I just have to figure out if I’ll have enough time to pick up his present before dinner or if it’ll just have to be shipped.  I’ll figure it out.

Well, that’s all for now and until next time from back in the States (or Colonies, if you’re English)…

-JD

PS: If I pull a muscle or miss a train during this week, it’s going to because I’ll be traveling with someone who absolutely refuses to touch a suitcase (and we’ll have four very heavy suitcases) because of completely phony injuries.  I know that a man should always carry the bags, but um… two of our bags are the largest size bags that can be checked so where should the other two bags go?

Why I’m Now Divided on Ever Again Reading The Wall Street Journal

I just finished reading Sarah Ellison’s narrative account of how Rupert Murdoch’s NewsCorp Inc. took over one of the last independent newspapers left in the country, The Wall Street Journal and its parent company, Dow Jones & Company.  To be honest, I almost wish that I had never started to read “War at the Wall Street Journal: Inside the Struggle to Control an American Business Empire,” because by the end of the book, I was beginning to look back on the Journal I remember Mustafa reading when I was a child and compare it to the one I read regularly.

I now find myself missing the iconic front page with its six columns, the “What’s News” and legendary investigative stories for which the paper won numerous Pulitzer prizes.  I guess I was too young and dumb back in 2007 to notice any differences aside from the fact that the Weekend edition suddenly dropped the weekly articles on power restaurants in cities across the country and where the power players sat at each one.  I found it fascinating and miss it to this day.

On the bus back from Florence this afternoon, I remembered that I still have a copy of the Journal from September 12th, 2001.  That was only the second time in the paper’s history that there was a headline that spread across the entire width of the first page; the other being December 8th, 1941 following the attack on Pearl Harbor.  The paper was a full three inches wider back then and had largely black and white photos, with none appearing on the front page.  I miss the old size (but understand why it was cut down) and the old front page, and I now seem to feel that the Journal no longer stands out in the crowd of newspapers; the only one that still stands out today is the Financial Times and that’s only because it’s printed on salamon-colored paper.

Don’t get me wrong, I do love Rupert Murdoch.  Justin and I refer to him as “Uncle Rupie,” even though neither of us has ever met the man.  After all, he owns the New York Post, which has the infamous “Page Six” gossip section that I read daily (I love stupid news, I’m sorry).  Plus, I love Murdoch’s determination to go after what he wants with a vengeance.  That said, his purchase of the Wall Street Journal has only brought about one positive change in my opinion and that is the paper’s still relatively new New York Section.

“War at the Wall Street Journal” was without question a good read that was captivating and even shocking at times because you get to see just how divided the Bancroft family, which had owned/controlled the Journal‘s parent company, Dow Jones since its founding, was over selling out to Murdoch, despite his overly generous $60 a share offer.  I definitely recommend this book to anyone who enjoys reading rather juicy narrative accounts or simply loves the old Journal before the Murdoch revamp that turned it into just another paper with no real personality.  I also found it informative, because I, for instance, always thought that Murdoch had been the one who initiated the fee to see the Journal‘s website, but it turns out that the site already charged a fee to view content when Murdoch purchased it and he wanted to make it free, only to return to charging after realizing that it was profitable.  In all fairness, I should point out that I think it is absolutely paramount that news organizations charge for their online content because it’s not right that people who read the print edition have to pay for a subscription when people who read it online do so for free.

The book, however, has left me questioning whether or not I want to read the Journal anymore and while I’m sure I probably will since back home, it’s either that or our absolutely worthless local paper, The Virginian Pilot six days a week.  The Times only comes on Sundays because Mustafa decided that he didn’t have time to read three papers a day and has spent the last decade or so reducing the number of days we get the Times from seven days a week to three, to two, and eventually leaving us with just the Sunday edition.  At the same time, I find the Journal‘s iPod App to be slightly better than the Times‘s app because it’s not as complicated as the Times’s revamped app.  Plus, it lets me put the sections I want to read the most at the bottom of the app; the Times‘s app doesn’t allow this, instead making me “Favorite” a section which is then listed not in order of preference, but instead in alphabetical order on a separate page, which I find to be too complicated and extremely annoying.

I thought that by writing this post, I’d be able to reach a conclusion as to where I stand on the Journal now, but I still don’t know.  I guess only time will help me decide what I really think about this.  Until next time…

-JD

I Can’t Believe This Semester is Almost Over… Wait, That Means I Get to See My Dryer Again!

Yes, of all the things I miss-working internet, my car, my BlackBerry’s full capabilities (aka: not just so I can make a phone call and text people in Italy), not having roommates-it is perhaps my dryer that I miss the most.  Never in my entire life would I think I would even be thinking this, but alas, I’m frankly over that stupid drying rack.  Actually, I’ve been over it since day one, but that’s beside the point.

Tomorrow is my last class trip to Florence and a week from today, I’ll be in Milan with mother.  As finals have begun and I have to somehow figure out how to get all of the stuff I bought into my suitcase until I’m able to fill up the one mother is bringing with her, I may or may not be free at all.  Plus, once she gets here, it’s another week before I see New York.  Though, we are getting to see Turandot at La Scala, so it’s not a total nightmarish end to my time in Italy!

Additionally, I would like to congratulate Justin on getting an internship with the law firm of Katzman, Garfinkel and Berger, LLC for this summer.  Though I’ll be honest, let’s look at the names of these partners and assume they last went to the office when Clinton was President.  Also, if their names don’t scream Sixth Borough of New York (Florida).

Okay, I’m off to bed because I’ve got a sleep deprivation headache at the moment and that can’t be good.  Until next time…

-JD

Florence Has an Outlet Mall, But It Doesn’t Want You to Find It

I always find it so interesting when stores don’t want you to know they exist.  Andrew once told me to meet him at Thom Browne‘s store in New York and I spent twenty minutes walking around aimlessly looking for it before realizing that it was an unmarked store with blinds covering every window and door!  While not as secretive as Thom Browne, the Mall outside of Florence reminded me of this experience because of how difficult it was to reach.

Before I get to the day, can we talk about how I cannot believe that no one else was bright enough to just name their mall simply the Mall.  That is genius!  Anyway, Sydney and I left on an 8h0 bus from Siena to Florence this past Sunday.  Usually, there are a few buses directly to this designer-only outlet mall that leave throughout the day, but because it was Sunday, there are only two buses that run at the absolute worst times (9h0 and then 15h0).  So we instead took a train to Rignano Sull’Arno, the nearest train station according to the Mall’s website, and expected to be greeted by the readily available taxis that the site promised would be there.  We walked around for about ten minutes before an unmarked taxi at the station charged us 10€ to share a taxi with two other people!  It was highway robbery, regardless of how you look at it.

And so, we arrived at what has to be the busiest field in all of Tuscany.  I say this because you’re basically surrounded by fields on all sides of this outlet mall.  So let me describe the brilliance behind this place.  They schlep you out here to the middle of boon-fuck nowhere and because of all the time and money you spent to get here, they know you’re not leaving empty-handed, hence the only stores are actual designer stores, all twenty of them.  Then, they know you’ll be hungry eventually so they know they can get away with charging 4,50€ for a panino, which is outrageous no matter how much disposable income you have to spend.  So really, it’s got to be the most well-concieved outlet mall on earth.

The layout of the Mall is also unique.  They know that Asians are their target customers so there is clearly a nod to this architecturally.  It seems to remind me of Japanese homes before Western influence.  The ones that required you to walk over little bridges or rocks to reach.  Instead of water, the Mall uses grass, rocks, water features with koy fish swimming around and lots of bamboo.

The stores themselves are clustered into the four most random groups.  Armani Jeans, Dior, Pucci, and Burberry’s (that what it was called before hell froze over) make up cluster one.  Then it’s Marni, Fendi, Alexander McQueen/Stella McCartney, the Italian children’s boutique Pinco Pallino, and Tod’s/Hogan (heaven?) in cluster two.  Cluster three has Gucci, Yves Saint Laurent, Loro Piana, Sergio Rossi, and Giorgio Armani (which one would think would be located somewhere near the Armani Jeans).  Cluster Four is Roberto Cavalli, Valentino, Bottega Veneta, Zegna, Balenciaga, and Ferragamo.

All of the eating options are located in large, two story building filled with large seating areas in black leather, more bamboo and three dining options.  You can opt for either the Dot Com restaurant on the second floor in you feel okay knowing that someone is probably getting the pair of shoes you looked at and decided to think about over your very leisurely lunch.  Downstairs is where you’ll find the Café and the Bar, which appear to be one-in-the-same, but are considered two separate options.  The Café, where we ate, has good enough food, which I wasn’t expecting since it’s not like there’s another place nearby that can encourage them to make the food good.  I mean, if you’re hungry, you frankly don’t care what you eat and they know this and can therefore charge over 8 € for a salad!  I had a panino with eggplant, proscuito crudo and some cheese, which was quite good, but a bit spicy for me (I can’t even tolerate a tiny amount of heat in my food, hence I hate Indian and Mexican food).  There was also a Lindt “outlet” store, which we descended upon like the Allied Forces on D-Day: by surprise and with force!  As expected, there were types of chocolate there that are not available back in the States, so of course we stocked up!  I got champagne-filled milk chocolate, which I haven’t eaten just yet.

So in terms of deals, they were few and far between.  Yes, the merchandise is 60-70% off retail, but that’s when retail starts at 2,000€.  Also, while I’m usually able to walk into an outlet (or even a regular store with a big holiday sale) and pick something worth buying out of the hideous, “It deserves to be in a bargain bin at a county fair in Idaho” items, it took some serious digging this time.  Don’t get me wrong, there are things to buy, it just depend on how much money you have left after you convert Dollars to Euros (1€ is currently $1.45).

I ended up with the oddest mismatch of items.  a very fitted shirt at Valentino that was practically on clearance and bought as a way to remind myself that I can’t gain any weight, something for mother and then instead of getting one of the four pairs of Tod’s I liked, I ended up with cleaning supplies to save my current pair from death and to protect my new suede ones from Paris.  I didn’t buy a pair of shoes because when Mother called to see if there was anything for her, I instead told her that I was contemplating a pair of either navy leather or navy suede Tod’s (I didn’t bother mentioning the burgundy or the dark green suede pairs).  Well, apparently, men shouldn’t wear shoes that aren’t black, brown, light brown, or other neutral colors.  Someone should tell probably 75% of the men who buy Tod’s shoes, because the colors were flying off the shelves.  In fact, she admitted that she was glad that at least the highly inappropriate College shoes Grace bought me for Hanukkah from Stubbs and Wootton are black!  I figure that if she’d rather see me wear those in public instead of burgundy suede Tod’s, then I’m buying the Tod’s just so she agrees to be seen with me in a pair of shoes that actually says “Screw You” on them!

Fortunately, the bus arrived and took us back to Florence so we could get the bus to Siena.  Now, would I recommend going to this place if it weren’t so damn difficult to reach!  For that reason alone, don’t waste your time and instead put the money toward one nice thing at one of the twenty outlets’s retail stores.

Until next time…

-JD

PS: Happy Passover to everyone, or as the Italians call it, “The Jewish Easter.”  I don’t know where they came up with that one because it makes absolutely no sense!  My Italian roommate also doesn’t quite seem to get that I can’t eat bread or anything with yeast in it, even though I explained the reasoning to him more than once.  Oh well, I’ll be 5lbs lighter on Monday and able to eat a big bowl of pasta then.  Plus, my pants will fit me again!

It’s Okay That You Just Ate That Much Food Made With Butter, You’re on Vacation in France… Yeah, Not Ten Days of It: Spring Break in France, Part One

When I arrived in Siena, my Italian roommate, Andrea, told me that everyone goes home weighing at least ten pounds more.  I thought that by maintaining my fruit-filled lifestyle combined with bi/tri-weekly running I would be able to keep this from happening.  Well, it turns out that this freak method worked until I left the Prada Boot and flew to France.  If buttermania herself Paula Deen weren’t such a complete hick/utter embarrassment to America by being a perfect example of why we’re looked down upon as nothing but fat freaks, fluent in  French, and able to probably fit into a normal airplane seat, she’d probably be living in France permanently because it’s got to be the only country in the world in which its citizens use as much butter as she does on a daily basis.  Now, while I’m beginning my first diet (there’s a word I never thought I’d ever have to equate with myself) in an attempt to shed the five pounds I managed to gain in France in only ten days, allow me to tell y’all how Spring Break 2011 went.

So in order to make my 10h10 flight from Florence to Paris, I had to wake up at the LOVELY hour of 4h30 since I’m slow in the morning and because my bus to Florence left at 6h20 (first one of the day), followed by another bus to the airport (longest twenty minutes of my life).  Then, I checked the Italian with the bag and proceeded to spend the next ten days acting as an unpaid translator for Mother and our own Clark W. Griswold (yes, SPARKY came).  Landing at Charles de Gaulle, I rather hoped I’d get to see the stunning Terminal 2E or 2F, but no, instead, I, along with all the other Air France passengers arriving from EU-zone nations that don’t require passport control, were taken to the bizarre-looking Terminal 2G.  To be honest, it looks like a make-shift building that was constructed with the intent to be torn down in a week.  The windows are tinted pink, blue or yellow; it’s just a freaky place.  Oh, and did I mention you have to take a bus to get to the rest of the airport?  Of course, I was actually in a surprisingly good mood considering that I had only managed to get two and a half hours of sleep and just spent nearly six hours getting to Paris.  I was in this surprisingly good mood obviously because I was in Paris!  I was so excited that I nearly screamed when I saw the Arc de Triomphe!  It looks great eleven years after I last saw it.

So Mother had told me that she was thinking about taking a taxi to our hotel, which even our hotel’s concierge said was a stupid thing to do since it would cost at least 65€.  Thankfully, she took my advice and after enjoying the perks of the Air France Arrivals lounge, boarded a «Les Cars-Air France» bus headed to the city.  I arrived a few hours later and met her in front of our absolutely charming hotel.  Instead of going for one of the horribly over-priced hotels like the George V (not that I didn’t want to stay there, but I can wait until I can expense the 1,500€ a night room), we stayed at a little place in the 3rd Arrondissement about which Jean told us called Pavillon de la Reine.  Aside from being in such a charming part of Paris that is separated from the freaky, touristy/overpriced parts of the city, the hotel staff and everyone was just so friendly.  Even the lady at breakfast was so sweet and remembered the way Mother took her coffee after only one day!

So that Friday was spent largely just strolling around the 5th.  Since we’re fast-approaching Easter, all the chocolate stores are displaying some version of eggs, but nothing compared to the stunning window display that Patrick Roger had in his boutiques all over Paris:

Now as if I could pass that up so 7€ later, I was in heaven!  If only all brown eggs could be real egg shells (oops, I ate it) that are filled with chocolate praline!  We also saw the new Hermès near Bon Marché, which I must say is stunning and showcases the Hermès furniture collection so well, but like the Prada in SoHo, you don’t go there to buy anything.  The window display was also quite amazing:

Now imagine having that as a child!  Dinner Friday night wasn’t memorable, but Saturday, oh Saturday.

So, upon realizing that we slept through our alarms and didn’t wake up until 11h13, my first and only instant reaction was to say, «Oh my gosh!  We missed breakfast!» (it’s all about the important things in life)  Thankfully, the hotel sent it up at no extra charge!  So before I explain what happened that day, let me preface this by saying that I sold SPARKY on this trip by promising him that there would be little to no shopping.  Oops!  So I haven’t done any sort of self-indulging that I usually do at least once a month and that hasn’t happened since January and so I was desperate to blow my money and fast and as if my mother’s going to object.  So anyone who knows me well enough knows that I am in love with my light-brown leather Tod’s Brooklyn Moccasins to the point that I have bought a new pair each year for the past four years almost as they only last a year of hell with me.  Well, that was until  they stopped making them and I couldn’t get any new pairs at any of the outlets.  I was so desperate that I even tried to go retail for once!  Alas, my current pair’s time expired in August and they’re barely holding up today.  Well, I didn’t get a new pair of those, but mother (only child, just remember that; also, imagine if I had been the Caroline they were originally hoping for!) got me my first pair of suede shoes.  Sadly, they’re not blue, but they’re a variant of the Chuka shoe, which is favored by polo players (as if I’m one of those bros).  Because of the extreme wear and tear I put on my shoes, I opted for the Brooklyn-style of those as well because it has a rubber sole and lasts a lot longer.

Then, as Jean would say, we went across the street to attend Mass.  Where do we go to pray?  That’s easy, the Hermès flagship store.  Now, this was probably the WORST decision of my life to enter this store considering the forest fire burning in my wallet.  After buying Grace a little something for her birthday (she bought me shoes that say Screw You on them so it’s the least I could do), I bought the one thing I went in knowing I was going to buy, a new bow tie, which is green and just so not something I would ordinarily buy.  Then, I told Mother that I just wanted to LOOK at belts and that there was no way in hell I could justify spending so much money on something that expensive at this time in my life.  Well… the buckle matches my watch band’s buckle and it looked so nice in the display and even nicer around my waist, then the sales lady was so sweet and she and Mother thought it looked so nice on me, and then Mother said the one thing that just sold me, «It’s so gorgeous and you have to get it.»  Thank you, Mother for offering your credit card?  «Oh no, you’re paying for that one.»  I get that it’s outrageous for a parent to spoil a child with an Hermès belt (which I didn’t originally plan to buy), but when the parent goes on about how gorgeous it is, well you kind of expect they’d at least contribute to its purchase.  I’m now paying SPARKY in installments for my 22nd Birthday Present to myself.  I still can’t justify buying it, but I did.  Grace, who never tells me I shouldn’t buy something unless it’s truly hideous, said that I was at the Hermès flagship and that I needed to buy something worthy of saying I got something there.  I love that she can always tell me why it’s okay!  Thankfully, it doesn’t have that big H on it like everyone who just buys that belt because it’s the cheapest one they sell.  You should only buy that one if you don’t take it seriously, which only a few people I know can do.

When we emerged from the cathedral with our wallets much lighter thanks to our very generous confession plate donations, it was pouring down rain, which was unexpected for Saturday.  So, as always, I had to put our purchases’s well-being ahead of my own and get soaked while running to the nearest taxi stand.  We got side-tracked at the best place though, Ladurée.  Since it was pouring down rain and cabs were not available at all, we figured what’s wrong with lunching at 17h0.  However, there was a line to get in and the incompetent moron manning the door refused to extend the awnings so the patrons wouldn’t continue to be soaked to death because, «They’re only for the sun.»  This lead us to buy overpriced umbrellas at the news stand and the following photo to be taken by Mother because it was apparently funny:

Thanks, mommy!  Love you so much!  Y’all can’t see this, but my ENTIRE back was drenched!

Lunch at Ladurée was heavenly!  Mother had the Smoked Salmon Sandwich while I opted for the Ladurée Club Sandwich, which were both out of this world.  That entire meal was such a daze that for one of the few times in my life, I don’t know what I had to eat for dessert!  Don’t worry, though, I didn’t leave empty-handed:

The box went back to America empty.  It was so ornate that I just couldn’t bear to throw it out.  Saturday night was supposed to be spent dining at Les Papilles, a little bistro in the 5th, but there was a slight problem because the new food trend in Paris seems to be having menus that change nightly depending on what’s fresh that day and well, it was the one thing Mother won’t eat: pork.  Saturday night’s dinner was at a little café and again, not memorable.

Sunday, the one day of the week when the stores are closed and we can’t do any more damage.  We began cultural day by going to the most culturally important place in Paris: the flee market!  Unlike normal flee markets, the Paris one is more of a giant antique furniture hub and well, we figured that considering past success (our dining room chandelier) we’ve had there, why not go back.  It was almost depressing to see the limited quality and the high amount of tourist traffic there now.  Apparently, people need to hire guides to take them in search of the perfect antiques.  I guess Mother counts as a guide since she does hold a degree from RISD, but at least I didn’t have to pay her an hourly rate to show me things she’d schlep me to see anyway.  So we left and headed over to the 6th for as about as American of a meal as I will have until May.  Welcome to Ralph’s, the very hyped restaurant opened by Ralph Lauren this past year in his new, breathtaking store on the Boulevard Saint-Germain.  The space was stunning.  So Ralph Lauren, with the paintings and the animal heads and the hints of the English country manner that grace the New York flagship Rhinelander Mansion.  The staff was so attentive and friendly.  Yet, that wasn’t enough to help the food.  It was good, not great, just good.  Personally, I wouldn’t make a special trip to eat there because the food is nothing like that at Lifshitz’s Rugby Café in Georgetown, which is where they make the BEST hamburgers!

We left Ralph Lauren and headed for the Musée d’Orsay, which we prefer so much more than the Louvre, which has just too much to see.  Besides, I’ve seen the Joconde before so no need to wait in that freak crowd to see it again.  Note, if you’re a student studying abroad in Europe, show your Visa/Student ID from your European school and you can get in for free.  Mother had to pay 8€ for herself.  After the museum closed, we ended up across the street at the most surprisingly interesting museum.  It was the Musée de la Légion d’Honneur and I urge everyone to visit it!  First off, it’s free to everyone so no one can complain that it’s too expensive.  Then, in addition to seeing the medals that French Heads of State have had made for them over the centuries (Kings, Napoleon, etc…) but also the hundreds of medals that France has received from the Heads of State of other countries, which was truly fascinating.  Mother and I are both sad we didn’t have time to see the whole museum as they were closing, but it was certainly a highlight of the trip.

So Mother wanted to see some hotel that used to be Napoleon’s brother’s home or something like that and we looked at the map and it looked walkable.  It was the longest mile and a half of my life!  Plus, we ran into Mr. Jefferson:

Look at that pose!

Sunday night brought the best meal of the trip, courtesy of our concierge, Jonathan, an English ex-pat now living in Paris.  He sent us to one of his favorite little places after I explained we didn’t need English menus and he dropped the tacky restaurants that they send tourists.  This restaurant was called Fish la Boissonnerie and it’s located in the 6th.  In keeping with the new movement in food in Paris, it too only offers what’s fresh that day, but it was the best cod I’ve ever had in my entire life.  We couldn’t stop talking about that meal for the rest of the trip!  If you’re going to Paris, TRUST ME ON THIS ONE!  GO!  You will not be disappointed.  Now, I will be disappointed if I can’t get a reservation next time I’m in Paris because of all the publicity I’m giving it, but I’m not too worried.

Monday meant it was our final day in Paris so we started off going to the Galerie Vivienne, which is this neat little arcade that just has boutiques and small cafés.  It was very relaxing to say the least.  I snapped this photo while there:

Then, I saw this:

In case y’all don’t know, Le Grand Colbert is where Jack Nicholson and Diane Keaton reconnect at the end of Something’s Gotta Give, which is one of my all-tiem favorite movies!

Following that fun stop, we moved on to lunch at Baccarat’s Cristal Room.  Don’t go for lunch.  The food, aside from being insanely expensive, is too heavy for lunch and much better suited for dinner.  The space, though, is out of this world.  Where there should be ornate portraits now rest empty picture frames that go from floor to ceiling with the bare brick behind them exposed, the Baccarat everything, the attentive staff; don’t get me wrong, it was delicious, but just too rich!  We saw the museum there and then the shop (didn’t buy anything) before doing a marathon shopping dash for Mother.  We celebrated a great trip to Paris by having drinks at George V’s bar and then a visit to the speciality food store, Hédiard.  Dinner was at this fun seafood restaurant two blocks from our hotel named Le bar à Huîtres.  My platter of clams camed was served with dry ice in the middle.  It was so much fun.  Also, they had olive oil that is in a perfume bottle and you spritz it on your food.  That was the highlight of the night, me spritzing my food with olive oil.

That’s all for tonight, but tomorrow, y’all can find out what happened once our trip went from classy to SPARKY in just a matter of hours because our very own Clark Griswold arrived and if he doesn’t look like an American!  Until then…

-JD

This Was Better Than a Welcoming Committee!

So when I arrived back in Siena today, I was greeted with the following email from a “Sylvia Michel (female):”

Hello Dear My name is Sylvia Michel (female), i saw your email address today when i was browsing on the internet and i decided to write  you. I would like to be your good friend,hope you don’t mind. I will like to know more about you, learn a lot from you .When i receive your yes answer,i will send you my picture for you to see me and tell you more about myself. Yours new friend, Sylvia

Thankfully, my Mac was even smart enough to know that I would NEVER be friends with a “Sylvia Michel (female)” or friends with anyone who has the email address, sylviababy4u@att.net with a return email address of sylvialovesu02@yahoo.com.  Furthermore, Syliva Michel (female), NEVER IN A MILLION YEARS WOULD I WANT TO KNOW WHAT YOU LOOK LIKE!  That’s all for now, but more on Paris, Bordeaux and the Champagne region tomorrow.  Until then, I’ll leave y’all with this photo that Mother took of me in the pouring rain while waiting in line to have lunch at Ladurée: 

Chances are she considers this payback for not going to Spain for Spring Break.  Until tomorrow…

-JD

Don’t Y’all Hate It When Academics Gets in the Way of Fun?

So because I have a lovely paper and midterm for the same class on Tuesday, we will be taking a brief pause from reading Tiger Mamma book until tomorrow so that I can hopefully get an A on a lovely exam about Italian cinema.  Until tomorrow…

-JD

PS: I’m 70% of the way through this book and started Part Three during dinner and finally, “brilliant parenting” method starts to really break down.  Hopefully, I’ll be done by Thursday night since I don’t know how much time I’ll have during the day to update y’all from France.

Love and Other Drugs Dubbed in Italian is Still a Horrible Movie, but It’s so Much More Entertaining

We’ll talk a pause from discussing Tiger Mamma book tonight since I have only gotten about three to four hours of sleep per night this entire week and I’m dreadfully tired.  However, I did manage to read another ten percent of this still horrifying book on the way to and from Montepulciano thanks to the Kindle app on my iPod Touch.  Surprisingly, it was much easier to read than I had expected and I can definitely see myself using it more often, especially since I have refused to sink down and get a very questionable man purse, or murse, and therefore don’t really have anywhere to put the actual Kindle itself when I travel.  If this weren’t a free app, I’d totally be asking for a refund right now considering all of the free publicity I’m giving to the fine folks at Amazon.  If they’d like to thank me, they can certainly feel free to provide me with a lovely gift card so that I won’t actually have to pay $12.99 for Tina Fey’s book, Bossypants.  The reason for the bizarre title will be further explained tomorrow, but the movie I saw was Love and Other Drugs and it was just as bad as it was when I saw it English.  I’m headed to bed, but until tomorrow…

-JD

Kind of Glad Mother Never Threatened Me to Play the Piano

So we read a little more of crazy lady book and frankly, I don’t know how in the hell child services hasn’t been contacted to inquire how this mother treated her children.  For instance, when Louisa, her second child, didn’t want to play the piano properly, she dragged her outside into the freezing cold and told the girl that she would have to stay outside until she learned to have respect.  What’s worse is that the daughter then refused to come inside!  What I’ve found so far that seems to aggravate me the most is that Chua tries to act like she’s a good parent, offers excuses for her actions and appears to almost be self-deprecating.  Honestly, I’d have some respect for Miss Chua a bit more if she would just defend the way she raised her children without all of these unnecessary excuses.

In other news, I finally got to go running in a short-sleeved shirt today!  I have been waiting about seven weeks to finally get the chance to do that and I’m so happy it’s getting warmer in Siena.  Of course, the Italians haven’t decided that it’s time to bust out the warmer weather clothing and continue to wear the Moncler jackets and four other layers beneath their walls of down.  It reminds me of a chapter of Adam Gopnik’s Pairs to the Moon when Gopnick describes attending a fashion show and despite being freezing cold and raining at the show, the women continued to fan themselves with their programs because it’s just what they do every year, regardless of the weather.  I can’t wait to get back to reading about these poor children and their horrifying/brilliant childhood (I’m still torn between loving her method and thinking she’s a horrible person and I don’t know why), so until tomorrow…

-JD