Can someone please tell me where the time went?
It seems like only yesterday the calendar turned to the year 2011, and then suddenly I woke up on Monday morning to the realization that it was August 1st. Surely the summer cannot be almost over? Continue reading
Yesterday I gushed about the city of Chicago and how much I loved my time in the Midwest. Yet amidst writing about the paintings at the Art Institute and my exploration of Millennium Park, I failed to mention any details about the reason I was in the city in the first place.
As a student leader at Georgetown, I was invited earlier this spring to be a university delegate at the National Jesuit Student Leadership Conference. Started in 1997 at Regis University in Denver, Colorado, the conference invites students from the nation’s 28 Jesuit institutions in an effort to promote student leadership at each school. Originally the conference focused on improving leadership in student government, but it has since grown to welcome leaders from across university communities. Continue reading
It has been almost a week since my last blog past. Though I made it my goal to post at least three times a week, I failed to live up to this in the past seven days. I do, however, have a valid reason for my blogging vacation.
After spending a few relaxing days at home enjoying family barbecues, the beach and even a Waterfire, my time expired in the Ocean State and I was airborne. But I was not D.C. bound; what awaited me was a new, exciting destination. For the first time I traveled to the Midwest and touched down in Chicago, Illinois. Continue reading
This past weekend I took a trip to Siena.
While I wish I could say that I was in the Tuscan city that is world-famous for the Palio horse race, its neighborhood rivalries and cuisine, 
I spent this Saturday evening in a local restaurant, imagining myself transported to the Italian province.
Located in Rhode Island’s Little Italy area known as Federal Hill, Siena restaurant promises diners “authentic Tuscan cuisine in a warm, inviting and lively atmosphere.” Having spent the last semester in Tuscany, I have been on a search for someplace where I could taste the flavors I fell in love with overseas. Continue reading
It would be fitting that as I watched Woody Allen’s new film Midnight in Paris the only thing I could smell was butter.
Even if the butter was emanating from bags of popcorn, the scent of the fat made me think of all the wonderful French things made with the glorious churned milk. Crossiants, pain au chocolat, sole meunière, beurre blanc. Each of these heavenly items sparked memories of my few days in the capital of France. Continue reading
The great thing about living in such an active, thriving city like D.C. is the seemingly limitless number of opportunities to spend one’s free time. The difficult thing about living in such a dynamic, bustling city like D.C. is trying to actually figure out how to spend one’s free time.
This past weekend was my first, homework-free two-day break in the city. With no required reading to do or five-page essays to write, the weekend was all mine. But how would I pass the hours of my Saturday and Sunday in the District? Armed with the Washington Post Weekend Guide and an earlier Post article about its D.C. summer bucket list, I spent my Friday evening planning my two-day escape. Continue reading
Ahh, the tolling of the bells from Healy Tower. Just one of the simple things reminding me how I missed being at Georgetown.
Being abroad for a semester and then away from campus for another month, it has been nearly half a year since I raced across Copley Lawn or ordered a chai latte at Uncommon Grounds or avidly avoided the stacks at Lauinger Library. Even though Florence certainly gave D.C. a run for its money on the list of my favorite cities, Georgetown will always have a place in my heart as my college town. Continue reading
My sister loves to tell “epic” stories. Whether she is describing her long waits in the driveway of her best friend’s house or the latest gossip from her high school, my sister is a true Italian as she raises her voice to elevate the drama and gestures her hands to emphasize her points.
It seems that not a day goes by when Jackie does not have at least one story to share. The other day, after coming home from a lacrosse game, she proceeded to skip all the details about the final score or her playing time, and instead she talked nonstop for more than five minutes about how she and her best friend became lost in the opposing team’s school and had to ask countless times for directions to the bathroom. She said that the two of them asked multiple times where they could find the bathroom, but repeatedly the instructions failed them. It was only after the third attempt that they finally found their desired destination, a spot the rest of the lacrosse team had seemed to find rather easily. Continue reading
“Il miglior souvenir di viaggio è un biglietto tranviario che una mattina, rivestendo un vecchio abito, troviamo in fondo al taschino del gilet, dove l’avevamo messo mesi prima, in una lontana città e poi avevamo dimenticato la sua esistenza. All’improvvisa scoperta, balza il cuore, quel pezzetto di carta è una metafora concisa e straziante.”
Yesterday I witnessed one of the biggest sins a person can commit in Italy.
As I stood at a bar sipping my cappuccino, I watched as a group of students walked inside. Based on their appearance, I did not need to hear their voices to know that they were American. While I was spooning out what remained of the froth from my caffeine fix, I listened intently as a girl wearing a Penn State shirt approached the cassa, the register. Continue reading
