The Investigation File

On Saturday night, my cell phone, keys, wallet, credit cards, insurance card, driver's license and blood donor card were stolen at a bar (needless to say the most important of which was the blood donor card). To comfort myself later that night, Alyssa and I went to get PDR Pizza - she paid. (I had an urge to put an @ in front of Alyssa just now. Thanks, Twitter.)

The next morning, I got up at 8 a.m. (this never happens) because I was so nervous. I called my credit card companies, and they informed me that my credit cards were used at Qdoba, Taco Shop and Badger Cab around 3 a.m. the night it was stolen. I learned three important pieces of information regarding the crooks.

1. They were hungry.

2. They were not classy.

3. They were stupid.

Sure, you look at me and think, "who is this fragile, delicate, sweet little girl?" (I'm kidding. Unless you do, then thank you.) But the fools messed with the wrong girl - a Persian girl whose dad is in the Persian Mafia. Ok, not really; but he did give me tips on how to investigate on my own, racing against the police.

Of course, this was after Benny drove me to the police station to file a report. We went into the first building that housed the central police station and tried to figure out how to get to the Sheriff's office. Apparently, the Sheriff is not the person you go to. We got directed to Building No. 2: The City Council building. It was locked, but the homeless men told us how to get through a side door. We went in to see that everything was shut down and gated. I spotted a man, in ordinary clothes, walking through the deserted building. Assuming from the way he walked, with swagger, that he worked in this building, I told him of my dilemma. Turns out, he did work in that building - I know, I should give the CSI a hand ;). (I'm not sure who I'm flirting with when I wink at a mass audience.)

He told us to call the non-emergency line. I took his suggestion, and filed a report. Well, Benny did, and he asked for my number so the police could call me with questions regarding my stolen phone. Smooth, Benjamin. I learned another three important lessons...

1. Homeless people can be very helpful.

2. Don't let Benny talk to the police.

3. Judging by the vacancy of both buildings, crime stops on weekends.

Now I called my dad and started my own investigation...

The first thing I did was track my phone through iCloud and found out that it was on Johnson Street. It looked like it was right on the corner of the Lucky Building - in the Administration Center. Well, it couldn't be in there, so it was either in an apartment in that building or outside on the sidewalk. Naturally, I dragged Alyssa along (she was pretty excited to be in an episode of Cops), and we searched the entire sidewalk, bushes, and the garbage can. Yes, we looked in the garbage can and yes, we garnered a few stares. My phone meant a lot to me. We didn't find it.

The second thing we did is go to the Taco Shop and explained the situation to the manager, who happened to know exactly who we were talking about - he thought it was fishy two guys were using a girl's credit card. Apparently, the perp said I was his girlfriend. I learned two very important lessons..

1. Signing the credit card means nothing.

2. I have a boyfriend.

Luckily, when I asked if they had security footage, the manager said yes and offered to send me a screenshot. My next move was calling Badger Cab. I explained the situation and asked if I gave them my credit card info, would they be able to track the cab that used it and disclose where they dropped off the perps? The Badger Cabbie said yes, but only to the police.

So, what's my next move going to be? Well, I'm going to call the police, give them the screenshot, have them call Badger Cab, relay my cc info, and then get the address of my, um, boyfriend.

Picture and address. The criminals are going to do a dime. (Ok, probably not. But that expression really fits in with my Cops theme.)

Shout-Outs:

Alyssa: For sharing her keys, phone and wallet with me the past couple of days, and for cooking me dinner while I pretended to help.

Erica: For coming with me to the bank. And for somehow knowing how to read gas code in the car manual so we could figure out how to fill Benny's car up.

Benny: For lending me his car, and for trying to help me track down the Po-Po.

My parents: For not disowning me.

Two last lessons:

1. Not having a phone is actually refreshing, albeit inconvenient.

2. I'm dumping my boyfriend.

Meeting the Cast File

So, a few days ago (ok, four months ago), I said I'd write a blog post about abroad, including pictures and funny stories (but drawing from past experiences, I'm probably the only one that thinks they're funny). Let me first introduce you to some of the errrday gang. (Side note: I may be using this post as an excuse to relive abroad since I'm missing it at the moment). (Yes I like parentheses - sue me, this isn't one of my Journalism classes.)

Key Players:

The Guidos (and Calvin: Honorary Guido)

Following (in the post and literally throughout Rome): The Guido Groupies

My closest friends:

Lily: My travel partner through Israel, London, Venice, Naples, Pompeii, Florence and Rome. What she learned?

"Alex you snore like a freight train and move around all night like you're doing gymnastics. I'm moving into the other room. AND GIVE ME YOUR BLACKBERRY! I can't deal with your constant typing all night!"

Claudia: "Just sending you my daily text...I drooled on JP's arm while napping with him the other day...oops."

Jackie, a.k.a "Nugget": "What should we get for dinner? Chicken nuggets from the guy down the street who gives us free wine and fish tempora? Or how about burgers? Paninis?"

#AmericanizedAndProud

Our broader group of friends was a bit larger...

My roommates: You won't see a collective picture of us: all six of us were not always in agreement with one another.

ALESSANDRO, my beloved Italian teacher.
Alessandro: "Do you ever stop laughing, Alexandra? Is there an off switch?"

And this is where we hung out every night before going out: "Catari 11 Unidinci".

"Undici" means "11" in Italian, but Tyler always said "11 Undici" when stating his address because he thought they were both part of the name of his street, making him repetitive and redundant.

I never really knew what went on here...

Ever...

Ok,  I'll spare you and cut it off here. Stay tuned for some entertaining stories in my next post.

The America... 'Nuff said file

Hey kidlets (a new cute phrase I think we should start saying). I know it's probably not cute to you because my taste seems to vary from everyone else's. I'm reminded of this by my "friends" every time I put on an outfit. I mean, why people have a problem with snakeskin jeggings, acid wash jeans and Ed Hardy shoes is beyond me.

Anywho, right now, I am back from Roma, Puerto Rico and Atlantic city, settled down at my internship in New York City. Before I started (which happened to be yesterday), I tried to explain to people what the company did. After my cousins made countless fun of me because all I was doing was quoting the website verbatim, I decided a new way to let people know: Opensky.com. Boom.

It was great seeing my family after so long. They came over for Shabbat dinner and my cousin, Alex, brought to our attention that they found a new sign and now everyone's sign is changed. So, I'm no longer a Gemini, but a Taurus. I'm not big in Astrology, but this piece of information caused mayhem amongst us.

"Does this mean my personality changed?" I asked.

His brother Raffi declared, "Thats why I never won the lottery! I was picking the wrong numbers every time." And then followed up with, "No wonder I never pick the right girl." Which reminds us of our second cousin, Michelle, who only dates people with her sign. I wonder if this means that she will break up with her fiance.

Then all of us played a game of Clue in the kitchen. And by all of us, I mean all of my cousins except me. They discounted me because I was on the phone for five minutes and wouldn't let me jump back in. I don’t mean to point any fingers, but Zac Miller, this is your fault. To say I wasn't jealous just wouldn't be true. The game was taking forever and, finally, Raffi said, "I think it was Raffi in the kitchen with a pen." We all start cracking up. "Who did he kill?" I asked. "Himself" he said. 

I have to say, it feels so good to be back in America, where people aren't laughing at my Italian and where I am not living in an apartment decorated for the Powderpuff girls. I actually have a shower sans butterflies on the floor - and I can move around in it. 

I have to run. As my Italian friend, Dario, says, “Ciao Ciao for now!” In my next blog post, I will post some pictures from abroad: mainly so I can relive my experience. Ciao!

"Goodbye Alexandra Vojdany, Hello Fabulous"

Yes, this title is a Lizzie McGuire reference, in case you caught on (which you definitely did. I know every one of you loves that movie and it's not just, um, me).

Ciao amici! ("Hello friends!" By the time I get home, I'll be able to speak a whole 10-word sentence. I should credit that to Justin Miller, since he's the one who has faith in me to do so.) Sorry it's been a while, but I'll paint you a picture of how I get Internet, since my apartment is where the Internet goes to die:

I sit at a table in a bar two streets away from l'apartamento (booyah some more Italian for you), and order a Coke (ok fine, Joel, a Diet Coke). Then I pull out my laptop and pink headphones while crowds of people gather around me drinking and watching sports. Sometimes, I even whip out my landline foot-long magic jack phone. When it gets loud and I'm Skyping, you may find me yelling into the computer. People stare. Then, when my Internet dies, I take out my converter and charger, and plug it into an outlet, while holding it in place with my foot since the converter is too heavy to stay in the outlet on its own. So, sorry Nicole Ciabocci (my number 1, and maybe only, fan) that this took so long to write.

Anyway, life here is incredible. It is so carefree and stress-free. My two-day-per-week class schedule is really working out for me. Abroad, class doesn't get in the way of your education (the hands-on education). And the weather in Rome is finally getting hot. Let me tell you about my day yesterday: I woke up at noon (no class on Wednesdays) and grabbed a panini (I have one every day. I'm over Italian food. Except for supplis. And gelatoes and crepes. And pizza if it's thick-crusted. And lasagna. Ok fine, I'm not over Italian food). I then went to meet my friend at school, so we could lay out in Piazza Navona (a square with famous monuments, statues and fountains). Then I had a mojito in the Square with friends before I went to the salon to get my hair cut - which, let me tell you, is really fun to do in Italy when you're freaking out about your hair and there is a HUGE language barrier that needs to be overcome. The guy kept laughing at me because I made him cut my hair centimeter by centimeter until he reached the length I liked. After that, I went to the school, discovered I got the internship I really wanted and wrote the outline for my research paper. Then I went to dinner, had red wine and a free shot, and went out on the town.

I've been doing a lot of traveling, mostly within Italy. So far, I've been to Florence, London, Sienna, Pisa, Rome, Capri, Naples and Pompeii with my program and Barcelona with a few friends. Tomorrow, I leave for spring break and head to Amsterdam, Barca again, Paris and Budapest. (I dont know why I'm so excited for Budapest. The only thing I know about it is that Owen Wilson and Eddie Murphy went there in the movie, "I Spy.")

Capri is my favorite place in Italy by far. It's beautiful, and I went boating on a private boat with my friends. Naples is my least favorite place; it's sketchy and dirty (at least the part we went to). Fun fact: the mafia owns the trash company in Naples and if businesses don't pay them, they don't pick up the trash, which is why the streets are so dirty.

In Pompeii, we got to climb Mount Vesuvius which was cool. It was so steep, I literally ran down the volcano - involuntarily. On the bus down the lower half, my friend Drew was trying to sleep on my lap and suddenly sits up and exclaims, "What the hell is going on? He's driving like an asshole." I proceeded to tell him we were driving down the volcano, and he calmed down. "Oh. I was gonna say..."

The people in my program are amazing. The girls are chill and the guys are cool. The five guys I hang out with the most are walked-out-of-Jersey-shore Guidos. Ok, only one of them is Italian. But they all act and look like Guidos. Are you surprised? I do own a pair of snakeskin jeggings...

One of the cooler things I've done is go to the Treve Fountain at 4 a.m. after hanging out at the Irish bar all of the people in my program love for some reason.

A funny thing that happened was getting offered a ride home from an Italian in this bar, asking me if I wanted to drive. Let's think about this...

1. I've been drinking.

2. We're in Italy: there are no rules to the road and I don't even know how to be a pedestrian in this country.

3. The car was stick-shift.

No, thank you.

Alright guys, I have to finish packing for Spring Break. Miss you all. I'll have my BBM ;).

Shoutout: Benny, I love you and your cute BBMs. And I can't wait until you come to New York (I'm holding you to your word this time).

First week in Roma

Hey again! Come va? Bene? Anchio! (Check it: I know some Italian.)

Well guys, after my orientation in Florence, and side trips to Venice, Sienna, Pisa and London, I finally landed in Rome last week (landed in the figurative sense - we didn’t fly).

Let me paint you a little picture of my apartment: I share it with five girls-many of whom are very cool, one almost got us evicted on the third day. Two people per bedroom. One bedroom has two beds pushed together, one bedroom has four separate twin beds (only two of which have mattresses) and one bedroom has one double bed haha - no, but seriously, one bed. So Lily and I offer to take that bedroom because we know each other, we like to shnuggle, and it wouldn’t be awkward. Well, man does Lily regret that decision.

I have a little cold so I apparently snore like a “freight train” and move around like “I’m doing gymnastics” in the bed. This, in turn, bothers me, because I’m scared for my life if I make one little move in the bed. She tends to get irritable in the AM. I figured out the solution to our problem: I need to get Lily drunk before we go to bed.

Continuing: my apartment is decorated by three older women. This translates to hearts, butterflies and cupcakes everywhere. No, really - everywhere. The knobs on the kitchen drawers are little cupcakes, and heart-shaped pillows and butterfly wallpaper fills this apartment. The decorations are really cute, but are they sturdy? No, the shelf fell off the kitchen wall yesterday and the mirror fell off of the bathroom wall a few days ago. I actually found the silver lining on that one: I really like this clothes store but their dressing room doesn’t have a mirror, so it’s hard to buy anything. Portable giant mirror. Problem solved.

Can we talk about the lack of drying machines in Roman apartments? You know what that means? Clothing lines run across our rooms, which are hard to avoid in the middle of the night when it’s pitch black. Speaking from experience.

But Rome is actually amazing. We live in Campo di Fiori, thanks to Benny Ginsberg! (Not actually, but Benny asked me to give him the first shout-out in the next blog. It’s actually thanks to Gail Gutman!) This is the hip, trendy center of Rome where all of the international bars are and where all of these monuments and ruins remain. We live in walking distance from the Coliseum and Pantheon (or as my friend Jackie refers to it, the Panthenon. I keep having to remind her that the Pantheon and Parthenon did not have a baby), and I actually pass ruins on my way to run errands, which is amazing!

I have class two days a week (Tuesdays and Thursdays) and a lot of them are on-site - which means, if we’re learning about a certain type of architecture or art, we visit a site and view it firsthand as the professor lectures. We went into a first century church for class on Tuesday, which was pretty cool. I felt like Xena the Princess Warrior down there. But actually, I did. And we went on a field trip to Tiboli today and saw the villa of an emperor and another villa, where a portion of the Lizzie McGuire Movie was filmed. Do you think Persian Princesses can rent out villas?

I also learned something really interesting on that field trip: in the olden Roman days, it was common for older men (like in their 30’s to 40’s) to have relationships with younger boys (like in their early teens).

Alright, I gotta get ready and continue the search for Paolo. Talk to you guys soon!

Orientation abroad

So it has officially been two weeks since I left the U.S., although nothing really seems official: it feels more like a haze. So much has happened already and it is still only orientation, so I’m pretty exhausted. And you know me (which I hope you do and aren’t just creeping on my blog. Although, that would actually be cool. Stalkers are welcome). What was I saying? Oh yeah, you know me: I’m obnoxiously loud and energetic, so it takes a lot for me to be exhausted.

So here’s a rundown - an extremely abridged rundown. (I know you’re wondering “is that possible?” because my stories tend to be detailed down to how many minutes it took me to eat a gelato -around three, if you’re wondering - but I’ll try.)

So I left the U.S. at 6 p.m. on Jan. 25th and arrived at 6 a.m. on Jan. 26th in Heathrow (the International London Airport for all of you less cultured people. Just joking!). I didn’t sleep on the flight. I had an entire row of four seats to myself, and while everyone was watching movies, I was laying down, thinking, “suckers, they’re all going to be tired when we get there.” Well, in about two hours, I was the only person awake on the flight - the entire time.

When we got to the hotel, they told us that the rooms wouldn’t be ready until 3 p.m., so we were left to explore London on our own. I fell asleep in the luggage room downstairs. The next day, we had a tour and our tour guide was a Harry Potter enthusiast-I now know which bridge the Deatheaters fought on and where Luna Lovegood auditions took place (who, by the way, my tour guide thought they did an excellent job of casting). After that, were left on our own for the rest of the day. My newfound friends and I decided to explore London (a.k.a we found a Fish and Chips restaurant).

Later that night, we went to an ice bar. It was pretty cool because I got to wear an Eskimo suit and chew my glass. We then went to a bar called Strawberry Moon. The English men are respectful: they only stare at you. Italians? Different story. But I’ll get to that later.

So we had to wake up at 5:45 a.m. for our flight to Pisa the next morning and then had an hour bus right from Pisa to Florence. Can I just suggest something to the British Airways personnel? PLEASE HAVE MORE THAN ONE PERSON CHECKING IN 139 PEOPLE.

Florence has been amazing- ridiculous double deck clubs, a beautiful city with a beautiful river, amazing gelato, nice restaurants (fine, I’ve only been to two, because when I find something I like, I stick to it), Italian accents everywhere and really cool kids on my program. Oh, and the hotel we are staying at for our two-week orientation in Florence is off the hook! Two things: blackout curtains and a heated bar where the towels are kept, so they’re always hot. The only things I care about in an apartment: bath and beds. Check.

Ok now for the Italian men. Let me just preface this by saying that a policeman (so sexy - definition of "Italian Stallion") came to talk to us and said that the national sport of Italy is “women.” And then he said, Italian guys will touch you and catcall you on the street but this is not sexual harassment, they are only “playing with you.” Um, ok policeman. He then said “they will try to use free cocaine to get you back to their apartment - but NOTHING is free.” Hahahah yes cocaine would definitely do the trick for me. Not.

Anyway, back to the boys at the clubs: how about you DON’T physically harass - okay, I’m sorry - “play with me.” In American clubs, you tell the boys to go away and they do. In Italy, not so much. They come back. With friends. It IS the national sport and all, so I understand. I literally resorted to smacking them and mocking their accent.
An Italian guy: “wherea you goinnn?”
Me: “Toa thee bathroooom, eh?”
Not going to lie, it’s kind of fun.

And the guys on my trip aren’t much better. They’re actually worse. Because they pretend to save you and then make their move. And I’m like “you’re not even Italian, get away!”

Italian classes started and it’s four hours a day from 9 a.m. -130 p.m., with a half hour break and a 15-minute break. It’s long, but I’m learning so much. I feel fluent - until, you know, I step out on the street and no one understands what I'm trying to say.

In the past two weeks, I went on excursions to Pisa, Venice and Sienna, climbed the Duomo (the wrong way down - which isn’t easy to do on a narrow staircase when out-of-breath people are climbing up) and went on a tour to see Michelangelo’s David. It was a very cultural experience. My friend Lily Dicker (yes, that’s her real name, but I guess I shouldn't be talking) and I were scheming how to sneak in and out of a gelateria while the tour guide was talking on our way to the museum. Then when we got there, we ditched the group, saw the David and left. In and out in five minutes. But we did get the gelato. Score.

I now have two more days in Florence, which is sad because I feel like I live here. BUT, I go to Rome on Saturday and get my apartment, which is very exciting! I made a close group of friends and we’re spread out around the city but we’ll make it work.
Shout-out to Lily, Hannah, Courtney, Jamie, Kim and Kelsey. (What would my blog be without the shout-outs?)

LOVE AND MISS YOU ALL tutti i giorni (everyday)!! Yes, I learned another phrase!

When in Rome File (Well, when in N.Y...I'm not in Rome yet)

Ciao! Se tutti va? Yeah, I just made that up; I don't speak Italian. BUT, that will change as I travel Rome (hopefully on the back of some Italian guy's moped) very soon.

What made me go to Rome, you ask? Well the Lizzie McGuire Movie for one. So don't be surprised if I suddenly become a famous popstar, at first posing as a double for another famous popstar. I'm joking (kind of), but why not Rome? Gelatos, cobble-stone streets, Italians (they're so friendly), an amazing city with a rich history and, um, i guess the art is important.

My goals thus far are:

1. Learn more than three words of Italian (ciao, Paolo, and bicciere, which means cup). So far, I can say,"Hey Paolo, cup?" Or, "Paolo, hey! Cup?" Or, "Hey, cup! Paolo!" All three will get me very far. I guess the only place I can go is a restaurant. I just hope I have a waiter named Paolo.

2. Eat a ton of gelato.

3. Travel. A lot. Maybe do cool things like zip-lining down Switzerland mountains, unless I cry and demand they take me down first.

4. Have a guy serenade me in Italian, again. I almost drove off the road the first time (the guy in the passenger seat was Italian), so I will make sure not to be operating a vehicle this time.

5. Visit a museum (I have a feeling Jonah would kick my ass if I didn't say something art-related).

6. Other cool stuff.

Yep, I'm ready. I hope Rome is too. (That was cheesier than it sounded in my head.)

Shout-out to Brad:I was talking to him as I was writing this and thought he deserved the first shout-out. And shout-out to his roommate who is having girl problems. And shout-out to Adam because he would most likely feel guilty for making fun of my shout-outs if I gave him one.

CIAO, PAOLO! BICCIERE.