Tom Petty said it best.

Gliding. Soaring. Flying. Who am I kidding, I was falling. Falling? Better yet, I was plummeting. I was plummeting towards the plush green grass of Interlaken from 14,000 feet in the air, strapped onto an older man named Andrew who I had met not just 30 minutes earlier. I put my 20 years of life in Andrew’s hands, hoping that this whole “parachute” deal was going to really happen in about 30 seconds after the initial freefall. You may ask yourself, why in the world would I pay a large chunk of money to willingly jump out of a helicopter? Well, in Interlaken, Switzerland people almost never question the decision to do so, rather they look to it as just one way of experiencing the thrill, the fresh Swiss air, and the pure beauty of the countryside.

Being an adrenaline junkie, I knew from the first moment I heard about Interlaken, Switzerland’s extreme sports that I wanted to be apart of it. Arriving in Interlaken around 3:30pm, Kari, Tim, Bill, Megan, Liz, and I checked into the Funny Farm hostel. Within the hour, we were being shuttled to Skydive Interlaken, one of the many skydiving companies in the area. The sunny, clear day was perfect to experience this once in a lifetime opportunity (for most).



The five of us signed away our lives without any question, simply pausing to ask the date. Tim, however, was a bit more hesitant. He argued with himself back and forth weighing our opinions and his previous thoughts about diving through the air to solid ground. Finally convinced, he signed and the six of us were officially a skydiving team. Jumping at the chance to go first, Megan and I volunteered immediately to get changed. Getting our blue jumpsuits and a variety of straps and locks on, we posed for pictures with excited, anxious, and utterly terrified faces. I tried playing it cool, but apprehension crept in like it was my new best friend. Megan and I sat silently in the van on our way to the helicopter pad, still evaluating our life-threatening decision. With the video camera in action, we laughed uncomfortably with wide eyes and made small talk about how ridiculous my knee high argyle socks looked to distract us from thinking about the next fifteen minutes of our life.


So you know when you are on a plane looking out the window as you have just taken off? The view is gorgeous and you can see miles in miles of just winding roads, trees clumped into forests, and tiny cars slowly creeping along. Megan and I are currently seeing this same gorgeous view, but of Interlaken of course. However, we are not in the safety of the enclosed space of the plane, rather we are in a helicopter that does not have a door. Megan’s leg is hanging out of the side, while my feet are dangling over the bench being blown in the wind. After about ten minutes of just roaming over the mountains in our chopper, Tony (Megan’s tandem partner) gave the sign of the two-minute warning. She anxiously looked my way and we grabbed each other’s hands. Before I knew it, Megan was standing outside of the helicopter on its metal leg about to jump. She looked up in the air and with the video rolling, was thrown out of the chopper. After watching my own video, I learned that I had covered my face and was screaming for her as she fell while I was still safe in my seat. Andrew peered around my shoulder and asked if I was ready. I looked straight at the video camera and replied, “I love you Mom, and I am so sorry.” Andrew laughed and said his apologies to my mother as well as he took me to stand on the outside of the helicopter.


Oh. My. God. Those three words were the only thing that would come out of my mouth. The wind blew hard, my hair was tousled and my face smashed into the goggles. And then I was “freeeeeeeeeee, freeeeee falllllinnnnnn’.” Sorry, I couldn’t resist, but those Tom Petty lyrics really do describe exactly what happened for the next 30 seconds. The wind pushed past me, my heart raced with a throbbing I had never experienced, and my face was in ultimate distress mode. I was skydiving. My legs and arms flew back behind me and my body bent like banana, the exact way Andrew described it would during our prepping. Then before I knew it, nothing but a smile could be seen or felt on my face. I was in pure bliss and forgot all about that big ‘ol sheet that is going to pop out with a tug of a rope to stop me from diving to my death (or at least that was what it is designed to do). The rush is nothing like you could ever experience on a roller coaster or in a man-made wind tunnel. It’s you and your tandem partner strapped to each other simply flying through the air.



With my surprise, the parachute did in fact open and pulled us back from the impact of the wind. Andrew took the ropes and did figure eights and various spins as we floated through the air. My mouth was wide open with excitement and I even think a little drool may have slipped from the corners. It was an astonishing view. We drifted a little longer and I watched as Megan made a smooth landing in the field. Andrew reminded me to lift up my legs as we followed behind to make our landing. I slid on my patched up jumpsuit with Andrew still attached holding the video camera to my face. I screamed with giddiness and continued to tell the camera how amazing the experience was. I finally turned and smiled as I made the final comment, “Mom, I’m sorry that I’m not sorry.”

Dachau Concentration Camp

This past weekend I went to Munich and visited the Dachau concentration camp. Rather than try to explain this kind of experience with writing I thought it would be more beneficial to show it through pictures. (Also, these pictures will work quite well for my photo essay assignment.

Some background information on Dachau found at the entrance of the camp: "Dachau was one of the first concentration camps and the only camp to have existed throughout the entire twelve years of Nazi rule. In the early years it was the largest and most well-known concentration camp. The name "Dachau" soon spread fear and terror throughout Germany."

"Arbeit Macht Frei": Work Will Set You Free


The entrance of Dachau with the rod iron doors from the inside of the camp.


An overview of Dachau concentration camp.


The long row of trees that shaded up to 30,000 prisoners at full capacity.



A student catches a picture from inside one of the bunkhouses for the prisoners. Outside of the window shows has rocks outlining a rectangular shaped area which symbolizes all of the bunkhouses that used to be there.



The Nazi soldiers quarters and mess hall.



The statue in front of the soldier's mess hall representing the barbed wire and the prisoners intertwined within each other.



Mike and Anna during the documentary of the Holocaust capturing Hitler during a speech to the country.



A view from the barbed wire, which surrounded the entire camp as just one of the many ways to keep the captives in.



Ali sheds a tear, overwhelmed with how much sadness the camp still holds.



"There is a light at the end of the tunnel, no one is going to forget this," said Houston as we discussed what we felt after viewing the camp. This light comes from the opening from the top of the Jewish Memorial site.



"May the example of those who were exterminated here between 1933-1945 because they resisted Nazism help to unite the living for the defense of peace and freedom and in respect for their fellow men," reads the stone wall as you leave the concentration camp.



The star of David. Despite everything Jewish people have gone through, they have overcome the obstacles and started life anew.

New Hair-Do

The Apartment room smelled like burning. However, when a girl curls her hair, usually it makes this kind of smell when hairspray, gel, and all those other crazy girl products are involved. Looking down at the curling iron, a chunk of hair was sticking to the ceramic plate. It was no longer attached to a head.

This is when I decided that I needed to get a hair cut in Italy.

Megan Considine and I walked down to a salon next to the Gould during some free time we had. She promised me that she would be my wingman and support when they chopped off my burnt ends. I have not gotten a hair cut from anyone else since I was 13 except for my hairdresser back in America. Walking into the salon, IDetroma hairdressing, we walked up to the counter and that is when I met, Vincent, or "Vinny" and his assistant. Vinny was wearing black leather shoes, a tight black V-neck shirt, and tight black fitted dress pants. His hair was a mess of black feathered pieces thrown about and he was popping his hip out like there was no tomorrow. The assistant proceeded to take me back to the washroom and shampoo my hair. I tried to explain why I was there to begin with, however, she spoke no English. Simply staring at us with a confused look on her face, I laughed it off and continued to make looks over to Megan.

After the wash, she took me back to the front of the salon and Vinny went to work. He asked what I wanted and when I replied, "Just a trim," he proceeded to grab huge chunks of hair and start chopping. Megan sat there in awe as I stared at her through the reflection in the mirror almost with tears in my eyes. There was no turning back and I was on my way to a "Euro-mullet." I closed my eyes and let him finish his "masterpiece" as he danced not only his body around my swivel chair, but his scissors danced as well. Italian hairstylists refuse to believe that you are right about your own hair. They think, rather they know that what they will do to your locks is utterly perfection. Vinny kept saying to me, "Oh, this will look so good. Yes, yes, you definitely need these chunky layers." Once the cutting began, my mouth shut and I hoped to God that I wouldn't have to shave my head completely once I left.

I started talking to Vinny about his business. He said he did not get many tourists, as they are not usually here long enough. He also mentioned how much he loved cutting the hair of people not from Italy because they then return to their home with a new look that he created. Vinny constantly spoke of his profession as an art. I could tell he truly enjoyed what he was doing as he sang and pranced around in the process of my cut.

Needless to say, the haircut was a success and I thanked Vinny for his services. Confused on whether or not to tip, I simply asked. He had no idea what I was talking about so once again, Megan, Vinny, and me laughed it off and went on our way. So if you are thinking of having a choice of how you want your hair styled in Italy, think again.

Idetroma Hairdressing
www.idetroma.vpsite.it
Via Dei Serragli 59/r
Firenze 50124

Hrvastka, Love Those Red and White Checkers

It is Tuesday night, and I think I may finally be recuperating after one of the possibly most exhausting weekend trips we have had yet. Croatia, excuse me Hrvastka, is one of the most beautiful underrated countries in Europe. As far as I can tell, from visiting Split and Zagreb, the people might be the most welcoming to Americans as far as my experiences can tell. Something else I can tell is that I will not be able to walk away from any weekend trip without something crazy happening to me. For example, in Venice I officially had over 90 mosquitoe bites covering my body, in Barcelona I found out that I get motion sickness from trains, and now in Croatia my digital camera was dropped and broken, fabulous.

So with my newly acquired over-the-counter Dramamine in hand, I braved the train station in Florence and got on the "high speed" train to Venice. Andre had convinced our travel agent to book the earlier train ride, giving us ample time to reach the train station and have a nice relaxing dinner in Venice. Turns out, the train decided to take numerous random stops in the middle of fields and drag on the ride as much as Italians possibly could have (almost comparable to any dinner they have here In Florence). Andre convinced the train master at the Venice station to wait for us so we could catch our sleeper train just in time. I ran into a room, grabbed the first bed I saw and passed out until the morning.

Friday morning, we arrived in Zagreb and stumbled our sleep deprived bodies out into the open air around 6am. Throwing our bags into lockers at the station, we met outside and went on a short walking tour around the city. Surprisingly, people were actually up at this time, giving us the false hope that it wasn't actually this early in the morning. By 8am we had seen a beautiful church, the famous picture of the Virgin Mary that had survived fires, and climbed the steepest hill imaginable. Arriving on top of the hill, overlooking all of Zagreb, for a moment it felt as if no one was awake in the entire city and we had a private viewing of the town. Trying to capture the moment, I asked Quante (Andre's friend John's friend, yes confusing) to take a picture of Tim, Kari, Megan, Bill, Bennett, Ryan, Liz and myself. The saying is true, all good things must come to and end. Two moments after taking the picture, Quante dropped my digital camera on the ground and it was "done-zo." Not wanting to turn on, or even close the shutter, I realized that my Croatia trip would only be documented through the help of my g

irlfriends, Liz, Megan, and Kari. Oh, and document they did.

Receiving a map from Andre, our group wandered away from the crowd and stopped in at a cafe for some coffee and breakfast. Liz and I decided upon the granola and yogurt, which turned out to be 80% granola and 20% yogurt. Crunching our way through breakfast, we looked at the map and decided to grab the #11 tram to the zoo. Best idea we ever had. I danced in a gazebo singing "I am sixteen, going on seventeen" recreating the scene from The Sound of Music walking into the entrance. We bought tickets for THIRTY KUNA (only 6$ but seeming like so much more) and wandered into the zoo. I decided it would be a good idea to mimick a lion only a foot and a half away, right before he came back with the most ferocious growl I have ever heard up close. Getting a few pictures, we walked around the Zagreb Zoo looking at the zebras, birds, snakes, and fish. Awkwardly running into a pen of deer, not uncommon to see in the U.S., we finally made our way to the exit and sadly left without the Zagreb Zoo kid's size t-shirt of a tiger.

Our next mission, finding a place in Croatia that sells food, also known as a restaurant. Turns out, restaurants in Croatia only serve drinks, or so we thought. After what seemed like endless complaining from every member of our group, we were saved. A woman came up to me and asked if we were American. I responded yes, and that I was sorry for how obnoxious we were being. She laughed and asked if we were hungry. My eyes lit up and I responded yes again, hopeful. She led us to a nice restaurant and left me her business card if we had any more problems. The lunch was absolutely fantastic and left us completely satisfied, thanks to our sweet Croatian Delta representative.

Meeting back at the train station, we took a bus to a town where Andre's friends had a huge surprise for us. They had created a massive feast at their "Clet" for our own enjoyment to fully experience Croatia. The meal was full of meats and vegetables and potatoes and a variety of desserts. My personal favorite, the triple delight. They even had a band come to play for us, complete with even an accordion! It was such a long eventful day that everyone enjoyed. We hope back on the bus and headed back to the train station for an overnight to Split. They called this train, the Party Train...

Ciao,

Molly

(Kudos to Megan Considine for letting me take her pictures!)

Nick Verreos

Nick Verreos is without a doubt one of the most vibrant, outgoing, fancy, extravagant persons to be around. He brings the "life to the party" and makes everyone come along with. I am an avid fan of "Project Runway" and was so excited when I heard he was coming to visit and hang out with us. His dress of a short sleeve button-up shirt did not surprise me, as that was what he wore on the episodes as well. However, being one-on-one was quite the experience. The first words he spoke to me were, "Oh girl, did I just step on your Top-Siders!! I am so sorry!" At this moment I knew I would absolutely love Nick Verreos. His inquisitive nature during the discussion was amazing to all of the students, asking questions we had never ever thought of. Once Benjamin Malkotra started discussing the comparison of how Italy became a part of the "Vogue" world, Nick made sure to comment. He said, [you] "Can't discuss Florence, without discussing fashion." In experiencing this first hand, not only through the Polimoda Fashion Institute, but as well as the day-to-day observation of the culture in Florence, Nick's comment is certainly true.

His influence was not unexpected. The first night after meeting him, all of the students met up at the bridge. Nick made sure to have a dynamic conversation with every single one of the Miami students. He was just as alive as he was upon arrival at the Gould. His warm reception is one that cannot be faked or underrated. When asked, Nick even made sure to give us accurate and enlightening fashion advice. Everyone had a good time with this.

Nick is certainly a person that everyone wants to be around. It is like people feed off of his positive energy. He constantly is upbeat, laughing, and throwing his hands around like he is giving traffic orders. His dress is unique all in its own. He arrived in a button-up and tie and his bright silver shoes. His green leather bag carried everything he would ever need, but most of the time his business partner carried it for him. He would pose for pictures like he was a model. Even his partner made a comment about this while getting some pictures of him in front of the Polimoda Fashion Institute.

Meeting Nick Verreos was such a great experience and a fun time. He is truly a one-of-a-kind person with so much to give. It is crazy to think that someone going through everything that he has is not uptight and boastful. The best part about it, he even gave me his business card! ;)

Ciao,

Molly

Ohh Chi Wah Wah

I should have known that when I heard three older Italian men sitting at a park bench outside of our double decker charter bus singing the words "Ohh Chi Wah Wah" (or at least what I thought sounded like that, little did I know it could have very well have been a common Italian song or phrase as I would not exactly call my Italian "fluent" by any means) that my Venezia trip was going to be something else.

The humidity in the heavy night air pressed against Wladimir's face coalescing in the condensation that ran down above the Accademia bridge. The posters covering the construction barrier looked gaudy against the Venecian architecture. The reflection of the lights could be seen against the ripples in the canal created by the raindrops beginning to fall. We ducked under an overhang that sat adjacent to a mask shop and a variety of Venezian memorabilia. My cigarette barely dodged the drip drip drop of the now overflowing waterfall from the clouds.


...sunrise, sunset...


Mother: There is almost no light in these churches
Father: Well it looks like there are not any electrical lights in here
Mother: I guess so, but I think they could have added more windows
Tour Guide: The gothic style was to create a dark interior that established a reverant feeling in the sanctuary
Mother: It makes sense, but it is so different from what I am used to
Mother: Amazing to think that they could make this so long ago, it is so beautiful


Cultural Differences:

-Lack of waiter attention to customers in restaurants
-Small variety of consumables
-Lack of proper street signs
-A city run by water
-Correct Change, Italy likes it very much
-Almost all Italians bilingual
-Tourism is a huge income for Venecians
-Splitting of checks at dinner is hard in Italy
-Air condition considered HUGE luxury
-People appreciate just eating and drinking for long periods of time in social settings in Italy, time not an issue


Venice is a beautiful city of many historic sites and scenes. However, the blistering heat and humidty was not something I thouroughly enjoyed. I think it is a wonderful city to visit for a few days, but do not think I would spend a long weekend there as a twenty-year old. Venice seems like a place I would prefer to visit as an older adult enjoying the wining and dining scene amongst the astonishing buildings. I do appreciate the chance to visit Venice, but think I would have cherished it more at an older age.