Derry, too, was covered in snow

This morning (well... afternoon) I woke up to the brightest day I've ever seen here. Snow reflects light. I think everyone in Ireland should probably spend the whole day outside so they can finally get enough Vitamin D.

[Dublin from the Gravity Room-the top of the Guinness Storehouse. Photo Credit: Juliet G.]

Yesterday, Juliet and I walked out of the Dublin Guinness Storehouse and I was enjoying the adventure of walking on ice-coved cobblestone roads and crunchy snow (though I was enjoying much less the biting cold). I saw some kids sliding around ahead of us as they bent to clump the snow into small weapons. Just as I was turning to my friend to say something like: "Aren't the kids in Dublin so cute? You know, playing in the snow and all?" one of the boys, not reaching my shoulder in height, yelled something incoherent at me, wound up his snowball-holding arm, and chucked the cold thing right toward my face. Thankfully, I ducked in time and managed not to fall down because of the ice.

[Juliet on the treacherous streets]

He made a break for it and ran across the road toward his other buddies. Wide-eyed and stunned, I looked around for a second trying to decide if he actually meant to hit me in the face. With a quick assessment I decided he, in fact, had aimed directly for my face. I turned around and yelled lamely after him, "Hey you! You, you young kid! That was such a bad idea! Poor choice!!!!"

Then I looked at Juliet as she, too, struggled to walk in trackless-but-fashionable boots and, laughing, shared my amazement, "That kid actually tried to hit me in the face. Stupid kids."

After our 4-hour bus ride home, we saw that Derry, too, was covered in snow. We hailed a Derry taxi and rode back to the student Village. As we pulled up, I was delighted to see dozens of people out on the only little hill within the village. They were decked out in hats, coats, sweatpants, and wellies for warmth; equipped with plastic blow-up chairs, trash can lids, and cardboard boxes for sledding; and armed with many many tightly packed snowballs for war... Someone made a facebook event for a Duncreggan Student Village snowball fight. For the next several hours people were outside (and sometimes inside) our flat causing a ruckus and enjoying the rare snowfall in Derry.

Later that night the girls came in covered in snow and freezing. "Hot chocolate!!" They squealed. "Put the milk on to warm, Rebecca!" And I did.

People watching in Milan is not like people watching anywhere else...

[Angela and a man in Army gear in front of the train station by her house.]

I flew to Italy yesterday morning.
After my traveling companion, Juliet, and I arrived in the Milano Centrale train station (pronounced Mee-LAH-no chin-TRA-lay... ahhh Italian), we spent a few hours people watching. We staked out a spot to sit next to one of the main stair cases. Few people go around the side of the station to take the escalator or search for an elevator. Instead, most people take the three flights that lead up to the cavernous space near where the trains leave.

People watching in Milan is not like people watching anywhere else. Being one of the world's fashion capitals (right there with Paris and NYC) and being Italian, the people just look good. They wear stitched leather shoes, mix their blacks and browns fashionably, and never before have I seen such a number of elderly ladys with fur coats and tiny dogs.

One older gent, in particular caught my attention. Even though Juliet was mid-story, I had to hush her quickly, "Juliet, look! Man lighting his pipe, man lighting his pipe!" I forced myself to nod my head vigorously so as to keep from pointing. He was walking quickly enough to lean into the long gait carrying him past us. His brown fedora, brought far down onto his forehead, had a ribbon of warm color where the leather strip usually buckles. He carried a leather bag in one hand and used the other to light the wise-looking wooden pipe held between his lips. I could see the strong flame flicker from his movement but, as if he often successfully lit his pipe on the go, he had no problem puffing out the first bits of smoke before he left our line of vision.

That night we at italian pizza (hand made and wood-fired by some really kind Arab men), drank wine and made our own focaccia bread with Angela's family's olives. Today we slept in (Juliet and I had only had a 4 hours of sleep traveling here) and then traveled out! We had cappuccinos in a cafe by the train, visited the Castello (several museums inside), walked to the Duomo, listened to a pianist in the cold, and ate the best Italian gelati.
I love Italy.

[The side of the Castle...]


I know I haven't blogged in quite some time. Juliet took a few minutes and blogged last night. She inspired me.