Wednesday 1/28
So when I got to my new apartment, which is nowhere near the heaven known as Borgo Ognissanti 23, Adrian and our new roommate Miles were already there. It’s pretty nice, bigger than my first one but not quite as large as the one in the fall. I’m tempted to christen it “The Pergasm,” but we’ll see. Miles is from Alaska. He’s a culinary student, Adrian’s age, and in agreement with us that Sarah Palin is hot. (PALIN/ONEY ’12!!! Sorry, Jesse.)
That first night, the three of us met up with Sergio and eight girls he’d met the previous night. We went to a trattoria near Santa Croce and gave the girls and Miles their first taste of real, Italian pasta. And of course some wine. Kelsey, one of the girls, actually went to college with a Gonzaga guy I know named Mac. The small world syndrome in Italy continues.
From there, we hit up the bar we regularly haunt. So it was great to see Angie, Mateo, and Antonio. Johnson, everyone’s favorite Chinese South African, was around also. Domenico, one of my other Italian friends from last year who moved away, is back in town for the weekend, so I finally got to introduce him to Adrian. Shots. Drinks. Shots. Drinks.
Around 11, Miles (or “Kilometers” as he will hereby be referred to, KM for short) and I left to go back to the apartment and let our other roommate, a strong-silent type Bulgarian named Emanuil. I’m sure, smelling of alcohol and smoke, we made a great first impression.
“Emo” was tired, so he went to bed. Miles and I polished off a bottle of red that he’d had handy. (Apparently all there is to do in Alaska is drink and smoke?) And then we went back to the bar. There, we met some other girls who we thought were the ones we met earlier. Our bad. But then we went off to the club to find the girls, Adrian, and Sergio. Drinking, dancing, secret bakery, and then walking the ladies back to their apartment by Piazza Signoria.
Thursday 1/29
I spent Thursday just running random errands. Outdoor market, grocery store, picking up the Borgasm leftovers I had stashed in my lockers over break (some of random junk, Jesse’s spices, baking supplies, and Aeri’s Korean goods).
That night Sergio, Domenico, and I went out for pizza and beer. That felt like a time warp, and I remember now why I sort-of spoke Italian last year. The owner gave us Jager as a digestif (or something, haha) after dinner. What a mistake that was.
From there, we went out barhopping where Albie joined us. Albie. Now we’re really in a time warp. If Miko was in town, I would have all my Italians back. More shots. More too much Jager. So much for not drinking that night.
I hung out at the bar, got to see Megan and Lorenzo again, but skipped out on the club. (I hadn’t been feeling that great already since dinner.) I passed by the Irish pub on the way and stopped in to say hi to Michele the karaoke maestro. Which of course led to shots of sambuca, my original Italian weakness. He looks forward to meeting “The junior Borgasms,” so I hope to start recruiting people who like to drink, dance, and most importantly, sing.
I got home and got online – I now have semi-reliable Internet – and Jacque was on! So we caught up a little bit. Apparently she’s failing at her 50-year plan, which is why I never wrote one. But failing in a good way. I was telling her that Tara and I wanted to go to Miami this summer and visit her, but my summer schedule is kind of busy because PEOPLE KEEP GETTING MARRIED. (Who started that trend again? Oh right. Jacque.)
Jacque also informed me that babies with Jason are in her new 50-year plan. So once little Jacqsons start running around, I’ll feel really old. She approves of the Tara/Andrew old-and-single “beautiful babies” plan and noted they’d be quite photogenic. And she doesn’t want Tara to move to Texas even though I noted that she’d fit the “Everything’s bigger in Texas” stereotype.
Tara if you’re reading this, write me sometime. I miss you madly! So does Florence. There’s a larger-than-life (and I’m not just talking about your boobs) portrait of you hanging in Ganzo.
Friday 1/30
I got up the next morning to find Alaska and Bulgaria gone off to orientation. Adrian was still asleep, so I made lunch using Aeri’s very peppery but delicious Korean canned tuna and bag of sushi rice. I took Sal’s advice and showed Miles all of Jesse’s baking supplies and said, “You know, my old Alaskan roommate used to bake. All the time.” Apparently, he’s not a pastry guy. But here’s hoping.
I talked a bit online with Carly, a master’s student at Apicius who came here last semester and used to date another Gonzaga guy who was my year. Small world. I’m really enjoying having Internet again.
Then somehow I slept away all the afternoon and got up just in time to be late to our school’s official “welcome party” at Space Mountain. Which by the way, is nowhere near as fun when you’re not there with thirteen good friends who are drunk. Also apparently, the DJ stole the karaoke list from the Irish pub because most of the music was 90s pop and 80s dance music. So, let’s see, who can we possibly substitute in as dance partners if the Borgasm crew is away? Oh yes. The school staff. Cristiano, Francesca, Kandace, Luca, and Grace were all there in full force and cutting a rug. Good times. Eventually the music shifted to present-day tunes. I called Diedre during “Low” and, with Cristiano in tow, called Tanji for “Circus.” I also got to meet a few of the new Stony Brookers, and they seem nice. But Francesca is right, I’m not sure if we’ll be able to love them quite the same way. And Cristiano wants to know when the next Sangria Party is. We’ll see.
When Adrian, Miles, and I left, we stopped by the nearby wine bar. But proprietor Cristian was apparently out. The rest of his awesome bar staff was around, so that was nice little reunion. Shots. A promise to come back despite not living in the neighborhood.
When we got back to our usual Santa Croce haunt, Samba was there. Just barely missed his birthday celebration last week. But I’m sure we’ll find excuse to party sooner or later.
Eventually everyone I know so far, old and new friends, staff and students, regrouped at the bar. And here comes the ultimate small-world encounter. Cary, a girl who Adrian went to grade school with, and the little sister of an old friend of mine, was there to meet up with us! I swear Florence has some kind of secret St. Mary’s Magnet. Between her, Adrian, Alicia and Tristana last semester, and of course Hilary and myself, the originals.
The club was packed that night. Unsurprising as how it’s the first weekend everyone is back and no one has classes yet.
Saturday/Today 1/31
Adrian and I were both up surprisingly early, so I took him to the market. (I can’t believe he’s never seen it, but he was, like everyone, awed and slightly overwhelmed by the large and fresh selection of ingredients.)
When we got back to the apartment, Miles was in the shower, so we made a breakfast of champions… scrambled eggs, green tea, and toast with cream cheese (or “Philadelphia” as the Italians call it) and berries (blue, black, and straw).
Happy weekend, everyone.
So when I got to my new apartment, which is nowhere near the heaven known as Borgo Ognissanti 23, Adrian and our new roommate Miles were already there. It’s pretty nice, bigger than my first one but not quite as large as the one in the fall. I’m tempted to christen it “The Pergasm,” but we’ll see. Miles is from Alaska. He’s a culinary student, Adrian’s age, and in agreement with us that Sarah Palin is hot. (PALIN/ONEY ’12!!! Sorry, Jesse.)
That first night, the three of us met up with Sergio and eight girls he’d met the previous night. We went to a trattoria near Santa Croce and gave the girls and Miles their first taste of real, Italian pasta. And of course some wine. Kelsey, one of the girls, actually went to college with a Gonzaga guy I know named Mac. The small world syndrome in Italy continues.
From there, we hit up the bar we regularly haunt. So it was great to see Angie, Mateo, and Antonio. Johnson, everyone’s favorite Chinese South African, was around also. Domenico, one of my other Italian friends from last year who moved away, is back in town for the weekend, so I finally got to introduce him to Adrian. Shots. Drinks. Shots. Drinks.
Around 11, Miles (or “Kilometers” as he will hereby be referred to, KM for short) and I left to go back to the apartment and let our other roommate, a strong-silent type Bulgarian named Emanuil. I’m sure, smelling of alcohol and smoke, we made a great first impression.
“Emo” was tired, so he went to bed. Miles and I polished off a bottle of red that he’d had handy. (Apparently all there is to do in Alaska is drink and smoke?) And then we went back to the bar. There, we met some other girls who we thought were the ones we met earlier. Our bad. But then we went off to the club to find the girls, Adrian, and Sergio. Drinking, dancing, secret bakery, and then walking the ladies back to their apartment by Piazza Signoria.
Thursday 1/29
I spent Thursday just running random errands. Outdoor market, grocery store, picking up the Borgasm leftovers I had stashed in my lockers over break (some of random junk, Jesse’s spices, baking supplies, and Aeri’s Korean goods).
That night Sergio, Domenico, and I went out for pizza and beer. That felt like a time warp, and I remember now why I sort-of spoke Italian last year. The owner gave us Jager as a digestif (or something, haha) after dinner. What a mistake that was.
From there, we went out barhopping where Albie joined us. Albie. Now we’re really in a time warp. If Miko was in town, I would have all my Italians back. More shots. More too much Jager. So much for not drinking that night.
I hung out at the bar, got to see Megan and Lorenzo again, but skipped out on the club. (I hadn’t been feeling that great already since dinner.) I passed by the Irish pub on the way and stopped in to say hi to Michele the karaoke maestro. Which of course led to shots of sambuca, my original Italian weakness. He looks forward to meeting “The junior Borgasms,” so I hope to start recruiting people who like to drink, dance, and most importantly, sing.
I got home and got online – I now have semi-reliable Internet – and Jacque was on! So we caught up a little bit. Apparently she’s failing at her 50-year plan, which is why I never wrote one. But failing in a good way. I was telling her that Tara and I wanted to go to Miami this summer and visit her, but my summer schedule is kind of busy because PEOPLE KEEP GETTING MARRIED. (Who started that trend again? Oh right. Jacque.)
Jacque also informed me that babies with Jason are in her new 50-year plan. So once little Jacqsons start running around, I’ll feel really old. She approves of the Tara/Andrew old-and-single “beautiful babies” plan and noted they’d be quite photogenic. And she doesn’t want Tara to move to Texas even though I noted that she’d fit the “Everything’s bigger in Texas” stereotype.
Tara if you’re reading this, write me sometime. I miss you madly! So does Florence. There’s a larger-than-life (and I’m not just talking about your boobs) portrait of you hanging in Ganzo.
Friday 1/30
I got up the next morning to find Alaska and Bulgaria gone off to orientation. Adrian was still asleep, so I made lunch using Aeri’s very peppery but delicious Korean canned tuna and bag of sushi rice. I took Sal’s advice and showed Miles all of Jesse’s baking supplies and said, “You know, my old Alaskan roommate used to bake. All the time.” Apparently, he’s not a pastry guy. But here’s hoping.
I talked a bit online with Carly, a master’s student at Apicius who came here last semester and used to date another Gonzaga guy who was my year. Small world. I’m really enjoying having Internet again.
Then somehow I slept away all the afternoon and got up just in time to be late to our school’s official “welcome party” at Space Mountain. Which by the way, is nowhere near as fun when you’re not there with thirteen good friends who are drunk. Also apparently, the DJ stole the karaoke list from the Irish pub because most of the music was 90s pop and 80s dance music. So, let’s see, who can we possibly substitute in as dance partners if the Borgasm crew is away? Oh yes. The school staff. Cristiano, Francesca, Kandace, Luca, and Grace were all there in full force and cutting a rug. Good times. Eventually the music shifted to present-day tunes. I called Diedre during “Low” and, with Cristiano in tow, called Tanji for “Circus.” I also got to meet a few of the new Stony Brookers, and they seem nice. But Francesca is right, I’m not sure if we’ll be able to love them quite the same way. And Cristiano wants to know when the next Sangria Party is. We’ll see.
When Adrian, Miles, and I left, we stopped by the nearby wine bar. But proprietor Cristian was apparently out. The rest of his awesome bar staff was around, so that was nice little reunion. Shots. A promise to come back despite not living in the neighborhood.
When we got back to our usual Santa Croce haunt, Samba was there. Just barely missed his birthday celebration last week. But I’m sure we’ll find excuse to party sooner or later.
Eventually everyone I know so far, old and new friends, staff and students, regrouped at the bar. And here comes the ultimate small-world encounter. Cary, a girl who Adrian went to grade school with, and the little sister of an old friend of mine, was there to meet up with us! I swear Florence has some kind of secret St. Mary’s Magnet. Between her, Adrian, Alicia and Tristana last semester, and of course Hilary and myself, the originals.
The club was packed that night. Unsurprising as how it’s the first weekend everyone is back and no one has classes yet.
Saturday/Today 1/31
Adrian and I were both up surprisingly early, so I took him to the market. (I can’t believe he’s never seen it, but he was, like everyone, awed and slightly overwhelmed by the large and fresh selection of ingredients.)
When we got back to the apartment, Miles was in the shower, so we made a breakfast of champions… scrambled eggs, green tea, and toast with cream cheese (or “Philadelphia” as the Italians call it) and berries (blue, black, and straw).
Happy weekend, everyone.
