Italy aka Carnivale and Parties
Allora...
So, Carnivale first. I went and did the Carnivale thing four times (I think). The Saturday before Carnivale officially opened, when there was a band playing in Campo San Margherita for free. I was with Elvira, Ben, Ale, two Argentinian friends of Ale and a real live Italian friend of Ben's. Who was actually quite cute. Not that it matters or anything. It was reallyawesome, because the band (jazzy, bluesy typa thing) were pretty good, and the atmosphere was fantastic.
Then, that Thursday (the Thursday before Martedì Grasso aka Pancake Tuesday), me and Elvira and Lauren went in during the afternoon and went into Piazza San Marco (the big one) to check out all the people grooving round in costumes head to toe. That was pretty intense, because the costumes are hardcore: people spend all year making them just to wear for Carnivale. The traditional costume is based on the clothes of the 17th Century, plus a snazzy whole or half face mask.I have an eyelash in my eye argh. Not that it matters. Anyway. There were a lot of people in those costumes, but also people dressed up in anything they could find, basically, just for fun. I met the CUTEST trio of giraffes who were all on stilts and had these amazing giraffe costumes and I've decided in my next life I will be a giraffe. We also drank some very nice vin brulèe and then went home.
Saturday, back at Venice, this time just with Lauren. We went to San Margherita again, where there was no live band but a live DJ instead, so it was still pretty awesome. There were more people that night, and TONS of foreigners. Someone gave me a 'do you have a lighter' gesture, and I was like, 'no, non ce l'ho; non fumo' like a normal person and then he went, 'WHAT?' in a really obnoxious American accent. So I pretended not to speak English, just for shits and giggles. I also met and danced with an orc, Dracula, some kind of Bedouin nomad and an All Black (who didn't actually come from NZ, which was sad. I got all excited and everything, but then it turned out he was from Italy).
Then on Tuesday we went AGAIN, because Martedì Grasso is the culmination of all things big and awesome. We didn't go in the afternoon, because everyone told us it would be too packed to move, but we went in the evening to dance the night away. This time it was me, Elvira, Lauren (sensing a theme here, guys?), two friends of Lauren's from school and three of their friends from Padova university, one of whom was VERY pretty indeed however I didn't manage to get his number and I can't find him on Facebook, so any chance in that direction is looking pretty limited.
But the best thing about Tuesday night has got to be the band. this time we went into San Marco itself, where there were tons of people grooving to the dulcet tones of... (wait for it).... ABBA!!! They had some ABBA band in playing all their terrifically terrible hits. As you can imagine, I was in my element. In fact, I think I knew the words to most of their songs better than the singers. And on Tuesday I talked to a rabbit who was in front of me in the conga line, two nuns who were holding a limbo stick, some poor bastard standing next to me when I was singing along to ABBA (he was like, 'wow, you know all the words... *pained face*' and I was just, 'bad luck for you, mate'), and a priest who made a rather improper advance. Well, if he had been a real priest it would've been, but as it happened, I wasn't specially interested anyway.
Then we all went home and rested for several days. Cool things also happened, like Chinese buffets and lots of tiramisù, but I will never get this finish if I digress, so anyway. Just a warning: any parents reading this should now shut their eyes for a couple of paragraphs.
This Saturday was Vakka Truzz, Davide's birthday party, and man, it was INTENSE. We arrived about 9 to find the place pretty much packed (it was in some hall, witha free bar and like fifteen million people attending). So of course we joined in and got funky. I didn't drink a lot (which will make you happy, parents) (although what are you doing reading this bit anyway, didn't you read the warning?) because all the drinks they had were too sweet, so I just had a limoncello and half a beer. Actually, when I think about it, only half the limoncello, too, because Elvira was rather taken with it. But the strobe lights were on pretty much non stop, so alcohol was really not necessary to feel like you were on another planet.
And as far as I am concerned, there were two highlights to the evening: the first, when Davide and his rugby team started stripping and dancing on tables, and the second which shall be dealt with in a minute.
So. Very Muscled Sweaty Topless Boys dancing round on tables together. What can one say? What needs to be said? I really hope you all grasp the clear magnificence of the situation, because phwoa...it was beautiful. Elvira and I just stood there staring for about 10 minutes before remembering we were supposed to be dancing, not perving. Not that that stopped us, because as we all know, girls can do two things at once. But o! the wonder!
And the second highlight of the night was that I FINALLY got round to kissing an Italian boy. Who is actually kind of a wanker, but nevertheless a good kisser. I shall explain: Elvira and I were trying to get beer at the bar (although by now there was none left) when he (who is called Andrea lol sorry Mum) came up to me and started chatting. We then went and danced together, Elvira stole the rest of my limoncello, we kissed a bit (he tried to give me a hickey IN PUBLIC no less and I was like 'Oi!' to which he replied, 'I'm just kissing I won't suck' lololololololol pdd) and then we swapped numbers.
THEN, yesterday, we texted for a bit, he did the equivilent of whispering sweet nothings in my ear ('sei così carina...), and then he was like 'Sono impegnato' : I'm busy. So I was like, ok, text you later, and he was like, no, *busy*. As in, I have a girlfriend and last night I was just drunk. At which point, I did a bit of a *headdesk*. Although at least now I know the other meaning of impegnato. So I told him off for hooking up with me and told him not to do it again, and assumed I'd heard the end of him. Then, two hours later, he sent me a text saying, 'Could you send me a picture of you?' *headdesk to the nth degree*
Because I was curious about him, I sent him my Facebook handle and stalked his page for details (mwahahaha for the internet highway). That's about where we're up to, though I'm still not convinced of his girlfriend. I think he might have just decided I was too much work (I had to ask him to explain himself a couple of times via text) and come up with a crap lie. Because yes, you could bugger up and kiss someone at a party when you're already taken, but then the next day when you wake up with a hangover and their number, you don't go and textflirt with them more before remembering the convenient girlfriend. But anyway, that's just my opinion, maybe he is that much of a dick.
But it was fun and I probably would meet up with him again if he wasn't 'busy'. Let's face it, it's been a long time...
Oh, and I learned the most amusing word today. In Italian, tartaruga means turtle. But it also means 6-pack. As in 'phwoa, check out THAT guy's turtle!!' xD It's seven different types of awesome.
So, Carnivale first. I went and did the Carnivale thing four times (I think). The Saturday before Carnivale officially opened, when there was a band playing in Campo San Margherita for free. I was with Elvira, Ben, Ale, two Argentinian friends of Ale and a real live Italian friend of Ben's. Who was actually quite cute. Not that it matters or anything. It was reallyawesome, because the band (jazzy, bluesy typa thing) were pretty good, and the atmosphere was fantastic.
Then, that Thursday (the Thursday before Martedì Grasso aka Pancake Tuesday), me and Elvira and Lauren went in during the afternoon and went into Piazza San Marco (the big one) to check out all the people grooving round in costumes head to toe. That was pretty intense, because the costumes are hardcore: people spend all year making them just to wear for Carnivale. The traditional costume is based on the clothes of the 17th Century, plus a snazzy whole or half face mask.I have an eyelash in my eye argh. Not that it matters. Anyway. There were a lot of people in those costumes, but also people dressed up in anything they could find, basically, just for fun. I met the CUTEST trio of giraffes who were all on stilts and had these amazing giraffe costumes and I've decided in my next life I will be a giraffe. We also drank some very nice vin brulèe and then went home.
Saturday, back at Venice, this time just with Lauren. We went to San Margherita again, where there was no live band but a live DJ instead, so it was still pretty awesome. There were more people that night, and TONS of foreigners. Someone gave me a 'do you have a lighter' gesture, and I was like, 'no, non ce l'ho; non fumo' like a normal person and then he went, 'WHAT?' in a really obnoxious American accent. So I pretended not to speak English, just for shits and giggles. I also met and danced with an orc, Dracula, some kind of Bedouin nomad and an All Black (who didn't actually come from NZ, which was sad. I got all excited and everything, but then it turned out he was from Italy).
Then on Tuesday we went AGAIN, because Martedì Grasso is the culmination of all things big and awesome. We didn't go in the afternoon, because everyone told us it would be too packed to move, but we went in the evening to dance the night away. This time it was me, Elvira, Lauren (sensing a theme here, guys?), two friends of Lauren's from school and three of their friends from Padova university, one of whom was VERY pretty indeed however I didn't manage to get his number and I can't find him on Facebook, so any chance in that direction is looking pretty limited.
But the best thing about Tuesday night has got to be the band. this time we went into San Marco itself, where there were tons of people grooving to the dulcet tones of... (wait for it).... ABBA!!! They had some ABBA band in playing all their terrifically terrible hits. As you can imagine, I was in my element. In fact, I think I knew the words to most of their songs better than the singers. And on Tuesday I talked to a rabbit who was in front of me in the conga line, two nuns who were holding a limbo stick, some poor bastard standing next to me when I was singing along to ABBA (he was like, 'wow, you know all the words... *pained face*' and I was just, 'bad luck for you, mate'), and a priest who made a rather improper advance. Well, if he had been a real priest it would've been, but as it happened, I wasn't specially interested anyway.
Then we all went home and rested for several days. Cool things also happened, like Chinese buffets and lots of tiramisù, but I will never get this finish if I digress, so anyway. Just a warning: any parents reading this should now shut their eyes for a couple of paragraphs.
This Saturday was Vakka Truzz, Davide's birthday party, and man, it was INTENSE. We arrived about 9 to find the place pretty much packed (it was in some hall, witha free bar and like fifteen million people attending). So of course we joined in and got funky. I didn't drink a lot (which will make you happy, parents) (although what are you doing reading this bit anyway, didn't you read the warning?) because all the drinks they had were too sweet, so I just had a limoncello and half a beer. Actually, when I think about it, only half the limoncello, too, because Elvira was rather taken with it. But the strobe lights were on pretty much non stop, so alcohol was really not necessary to feel like you were on another planet.
And as far as I am concerned, there were two highlights to the evening: the first, when Davide and his rugby team started stripping and dancing on tables, and the second which shall be dealt with in a minute.
So. Very Muscled Sweaty Topless Boys dancing round on tables together. What can one say? What needs to be said? I really hope you all grasp the clear magnificence of the situation, because phwoa...it was beautiful. Elvira and I just stood there staring for about 10 minutes before remembering we were supposed to be dancing, not perving. Not that that stopped us, because as we all know, girls can do two things at once. But o! the wonder!
And the second highlight of the night was that I FINALLY got round to kissing an Italian boy. Who is actually kind of a wanker, but nevertheless a good kisser. I shall explain: Elvira and I were trying to get beer at the bar (although by now there was none left) when he (who is called Andrea lol sorry Mum) came up to me and started chatting. We then went and danced together, Elvira stole the rest of my limoncello, we kissed a bit (he tried to give me a hickey IN PUBLIC no less and I was like 'Oi!' to which he replied, 'I'm just kissing I won't suck' lololololololol pdd) and then we swapped numbers.
THEN, yesterday, we texted for a bit, he did the equivilent of whispering sweet nothings in my ear ('sei così carina...), and then he was like 'Sono impegnato' : I'm busy. So I was like, ok, text you later, and he was like, no, *busy*. As in, I have a girlfriend and last night I was just drunk. At which point, I did a bit of a *headdesk*. Although at least now I know the other meaning of impegnato. So I told him off for hooking up with me and told him not to do it again, and assumed I'd heard the end of him. Then, two hours later, he sent me a text saying, 'Could you send me a picture of you?' *headdesk to the nth degree*
Because I was curious about him, I sent him my Facebook handle and stalked his page for details (mwahahaha for the internet highway). That's about where we're up to, though I'm still not convinced of his girlfriend. I think he might have just decided I was too much work (I had to ask him to explain himself a couple of times via text) and come up with a crap lie. Because yes, you could bugger up and kiss someone at a party when you're already taken, but then the next day when you wake up with a hangover and their number, you don't go and textflirt with them more before remembering the convenient girlfriend. But anyway, that's just my opinion, maybe he is that much of a dick.
But it was fun and I probably would meet up with him again if he wasn't 'busy'. Let's face it, it's been a long time...
Oh, and I learned the most amusing word today. In Italian, tartaruga means turtle. But it also means 6-pack. As in 'phwoa, check out THAT guy's turtle!!' xD It's seven different types of awesome.