Do not think me gentle because I speak in praise of gentleness, or elegant because I honour the grace that keeps this world. I am a [wo]man crude as any, gross of speech, intolerant, stubborn, angry, full of fits and furies. That I may have spoken well at times, is not natural. A wonder is what it is. (Wendell Berry)

Thursday, April 20, 2006

Victoria's Downfall Pool

We interrupt your normal "Italy" broadcasting with a special update from Victoria's recent life...

Troy is doing this Bible/Christian history class for whoever is interested. I was interested. I always seem to be interested in aquiring more knowledge than I have. I love to learn. I love to argue (just ask anyone that's been around me for more than five seconds...) and I love bouncing my ideas off everyone else just so they'll hear how smart I am.

Troy is smarter than me.

I don't know if any of you knew that *wink wink* but it's true. Last night, instead of having Christian History Survey part 3, we (Kelly, Enrique, Troy and I) went to Vips, got some food and had some good chatting time. (by good chatting time, I mean two hours of me asking Troy questions) If you would have told me a week ago that I would eventually want to get my masters and spend God knows how many more years in school, I would have told you that you are clearly not as smart as me; but apparently I'm not as smart as me. I want to go to seminary.


(Jerry Falwell with my friend Roxy)

okay. tuck that away, here comes the second part.

I'm in Philosophy 486 this semester, Philosophy of the Problems in Religion. The class is what it sounds like. We talk about the problems with any form of religion from a philosophical standpoint. It's very cool because I like arguing. I'm sure if Kelly were in the class, she'd probably stand up and scream, Why can't we all just get along?
Anyways, problems of religion. My professor is always referring to theology and philosophy in terms of baseball teams or something. It's always the Theologians or the Philosophers playing against each other. He said that, a couple hundred years ago, Philosophy was referred to as the 'handmaiden' of the queen of the sciences, Theology. He then retorted, yes, Philosophy had to walk in front of Theology everywhere she went holding a lamp, so as to not allow the "dumb broad" to fall flat on her face... You get the idea.

Can I just gloat for two seconds. Basically, it's my blog and I'll gloat if I want to... gloat if I want to, gloat if I want to... you would gloat to if it happened to YOU DOOT DOOT DOOT DOOT DOOT! What happened you ask? Aw shucks... Okay I'll tell you.

part three... what happened to me today:

Before Semana Santa I had to write a paper for Philosophy talking about what faith is. It was a hard paper. I spent nine hours writing it, and get this, I actually LIKED IT! I actually smiled with glee as I wrote the conclusion! I actually giggled writing the paper because I saw scripture debunk some of these philosophical arguments I was arguing against. I giggled, no kidding. I love the Bible! But I digress..
Today I got that paper back. Heather offered to scan it for me so that I could post it as proof. But I thought that would make a cocky post even worse, so I'll just tell you what he wrote on it.

"A- good discussion... You should become a theologian! They need you. "

THEY NEED ME ON THEIR TEAM! How do I make this sound less conceited and proud? I guess I can't. But I think I'm pretty hot stuff right now. You know that saying "pride comes before a fall..." ? Someone could really win a lot of money if they opened up some sort of pool or something. You know like a baby pool? There could be a Victoria's downfall pool...

I can't wait to go to seminary...

...maybe I'll get my picture taken with Jerry too...

Sunday, April 16, 2006

My Trip To Italy. Part 1.

As many of you know, Jo and I went to Italy for spring break. It was great. Upon arriving back to Madrid, we sat down and wrote out about fifteen pages of play by play action so that we could both remember everything that happened. This is the condensed version, with pictures.

Our Trip to Italy. Part One.

Seven Days. Seven Cities. Incredible? Stupid? Or just the rare combination of two girls- one British, one American- coming together to explore and to conquer the world? We like to call it the VicJoria effect. The scene starts at 5:30 am Saturday morning, the third of March, 2006 in Tribunal. The dubious duo are accosted by a strange man (later turning out to be Jonathan) who mugs Victoria of her house keys then scampers to sleep in her house and eat her peanut butter (no one else was there). The tired two trundle away from Tribunal to hail a taxi midst sandwich selling chinos and drunken delinquents loitering on Gran Via.

Mistaking us for the drunken, puke prone teenagers, most of the taxi’s just sped by leaving only their spray splattering us in mockery. However, one nice cabbie (realising that our backpacks weren’t full of party clothes or drugs) picked us up and we made our way to Avenida de America in good time for the bus to Zaragoza which arrived around 9 am. Little did we know, the time we spent in Zaragoza was a good indication of the time it took us to explore a city to our satisfaction. (about five hours). After what became a traditional napolitana de chocolate for breakfast, the satiated students ventured on towards the Alferia, or an ancient fortress occupied by the Moors, then the Christians, then the Spanish Monarchs.




We then walked to the Basilica de Pilar in the center and Victoria, recalling her childhood knowledge of the various Catholic traditions, educated Jo on why everything was so shiny.


Next, we explored the town market, filled with every thing from fruits and vegetables to boar’s heads on meat hooks. Apparently, the “Lord of the Flies” has inspired more than just high school teachers. The lord-of-the-flies-esque moment did not hinder our stomachs though, because next, we found a seven euro menu del dia, which included the famous and delicious fish soup of the north.

After lunch, we caught the first of what would be many Ryan Air connection buses to the Ryan Air airport/bus stop/building in the middle of the sticks/is that a sheep?

For the record, Bergamo is not Milan, despite what Ryan Air advertises. The flight passed quickly and we made a new Italian friend (insert a standard Italian name here). After being educated on what to do in Milan, we found ourselves in a metro station in Milan (not forgetting the one hour bus ride it took to get us from the “airport” to the city via a tour of the 600 McDonalds in Milan. Apparently, Italian cuisine isn’t pasta and pizza, its anything below those golden arches.)

stay tuned for part deux. "The Metro." or "Victoria and Jo go to Verona" (either one)

Sunday, April 09, 2006

be patient


midterms=four papers and a test on a novel I have yet to read.
just keep waiting for my post.