According to the nav, we are in the river

Remember me? To those of you who have futilely checked if I've updated my blog the past three weeks... sorry I'm not sorry. Just think - the Israelites wandered the desert for 40 years. THAT must have sucked.

Fortunately for you, my mother has commissioned me to resume my summaries of my European eating tour. And for those of you who don't know Beth Sokol, she can be pretty persistent. Mostly through repetition... and more repetition. In order to save valuable time and energy, my family has devised a full-proof system of assigning numbers to her most used comments (examples: 1 = I have no clothes; 2 = that was a great buy; 3 = I should have bought that in more colors). Coming in at lucky #13 is now, "Hunny, update your blog," so I'll start where I left off: Venice for Carnevale.

Most people described Carnevale as the Italian Mardi Gras. That comparison is like saying La Senza (or Victoria's Secret for the Americans) is equal to La Perla. While both claim to offer the same thing, they just don't - namely there are no Americans drinking their body weight or sorority girls "getting into the spirit" by dressing head to toe in American Apparel. 

While I was deprived of alcohol in Venice, I kept up my calorie intake in other ways. I am now about to describe the best dessert I have ever eaten, and I'm worried that I will not do it justice. To properly emphasize the deliciousness of this gelato, I need to mention that I ate another cone minutes before it. Upon hearing that the house specialty, however, there was no going back... a bar of milky hazelnut chocolate gelato smothered in homemade whipped cream. I'm ready for my Food Network segment. 

 Numero Uno

And the mother load

Fearing that our Jewish roots were slowly being forgotten amidst the Italian masses, my friend Ali and I were happy to indulge in matzo ball soup and latkes in the Jewish ghetto. I may have gotten a little too excited when a man started playing Bialik Yiddish classics on his accordion. 

I will continue my blogging after dinner - that is, if I survive the Salmonella from my first attempt to cook chicken. That's right mom, no carbs! The true meaning of nachas. 

Ciao Bella!

Sammy Soks

P.S. If you didn't know from this post, I'm Jewish.

Working hard or hardly working?

Helpful study tool or unwavering distraction? Maybe a little bit of both.

These are my confessions

One of the questions on my Italian test today was, "What nationality are you, and what city are you from?" I forgot how to say Canadian in Italian, so I did what I had to do for the grade. 

I said I was American and from New York.

THE SHAME. 

I am now going to bathe in maple syrup to repent. 

The Better London

To all of you who refer to New York, NY as "THE city" (as if there is only one city in the world), it is time for a much needed wake-up call. London is by far the coolest, most advanced city I have visited, light years ahead in both fashion and all around male sexiness. Londoners may drive on the wrong side of the road, but they definitely know the right way to live... find a nearest pub, day drink, and sing 80's hits. And, best of all, after almost a month of drought, I finally got my hands on a Starbucks (or five).

They're always thinking of us stupid people.

Awaiting Orly Frieberg's arrival from Nottingham, I wandered the city alone, awkwardly asking random people to take pictures of me. Yup, I'm that girl, and I couldn't have been happier to take in the sights... and by sights I'm referring to the array of designer merchandise at Harrod's. Too scared to even touch anything, I found exactly where I belonged: the food court. Unfortunately one of my favorite restaurants, Teriyaki Experience (not kidding), was nowhere to be found. What I did discover, however, was even better than my wildest imagination, rooms and rooms of every kind of food on this planet! Dim sum, sushi, prepared foods, meats, chocolates, cakes... you name it. I was brought back down to earth when I saw that a miso soup was 9 pounds, only about $14 dollars. I settled for a mini-cupcake.

Orly, pretty much Anglicized already, showed me around town for the weekend. Our Chinese dinner was a necessary break from all the pizza and pasta I've been consuming (I know, I'm living a rough life). We even mingled with the locals at a club in Chelsea, only to realize that Chelsea is a wealthy area and, logically, home to a sizable population of Juden. Even the gap-toothed, questionable hobo had been on year course.

The next morning, determined to see views other than a store's interior and primed to take epic Facebook pictures, we hit all the major London sights. Buckingham Palace, the Big Ben, Trafalgar Square, Covent Gardens... we did it all. But to show you the less glamorous side of touring, see the picture below. Climbing monuments is tough when you haven't worked out in over a month.

To end our amazing weekend, there was only one place to go: the Topshop flagship store. As I slipped off my boots to try on clothes, I realized my foot was gushing blood for no apparent reason (perhaps swelling from excessive physical activity, aka walking). Being the true shopper I am, I took off my sock, bought a new pair, and continued with my escapades.

I have found my one true love, and it is a city. I can deal with that.

Ciao Bella!

Sammy Soks

Toronto, is that you?

Imagine winter without Ugg boots, Canada Goose jackets, or even centralized heat... I know, its almost as bad as summer without the Village Chill. My fellow Romans and I were forced to brave the cold this past weekend when snow hit the city for the first time in 26 years. I wouldn't have been sad to miss this milestone.  

As a victim of Atlanta's snow catastrophe last year, I've seen some pretty stupid ways of coping with winter weather. If you are at all close to me, you probably received a farewell text message saying how much I loved you from the backseat of a cab, shortly after it smashed headfirst into a guardrail. Ah, the memories. To eliminate such issues, the mayor of Rome decided to ban all automatic cabs from driving in the snow, thereby eliminating most chances at a ride home after the bar. I compare our trek to a jacket-less walk from Rum Runners to 675 in -15 weather (yeah, I've done that too).

Being the sensible fourth generation Canadian I am, I knew exactly what to do at a time like this... layer on the blankets, make myself a tea, and watch the Bachelor. And laugh at those walking by who think an umbrella is really going to do them any good in this weather... amateurs. 

Ciao Bella!

Sammy Soks 

Go Go Go Duomo

Most people spend their first weekend abroad getting used to their city, touring around and locating key points of interest (the nearest hospital, supermarket, or nail place...). But some crazy souls, myself included, jump at their first chance at traveling. So off I went to Florence, a long lost suburb of Long Island and home to way too many American university students.

I should have known that with a group of 10 girls, I would be spending a lot of time at the leather market.  In true Italian fashion, the men working the booths both heckled us and told us how amazing we looked in their jackets. One took a particular liking to me and my leather boots, stroking them and telling me I looked like Jessica Alba. I'm not going to lie, I didn't hate that comparison. The compliment died quickly when he grabbed me, told me that he loved me, and started making out with my cheek.

From there we continued our shopping expenditures in Ponte Vecchio, an area overlooking the river and a prime hookup spot for PDA-prone Italians. After window shopping for engagement rings and realizing that we don't even have boyfriends, the obvious next move was to stuff our face with pesto ravioli (consumed too fast to take a picture).

The next day, exhausted by looking at the same leather coat for 4 hours, I insisted we see the sights. That idea bit me in the ass (literally) when we climbed to the top of Duomo, a cathedral in the middle of Florence. After hundreds if not thousands of stairs, we finally made it to the top. Even though I couldn't feel my legs, the view was definitely worth the climb.

The best part of Florence was Space, a club where we managed to get VIP bracelets both nights (take that Alternate Recreation). Nothing beats popping bottles that you didn't pay for and looking down at the unfortunate ones below, from a glass cube no less.

After running from the train to the Leaning Tower of Pisa and back again, we suffered a long 4-hour indirect train back to Rome. By the end of the ride, I had memorized every tweet tweeted all weekend and most were just plain stupid. Why do people think that others care about a. their love lives (written in a cryptic, bitter message) b. their exact location, down to the street intersection or c. their dumb inside jokes? Just wondering.

The weekend ended with a valuable lesson: don't ride in cabs alone, especially when they charge fixed rates. Apparently there is a gang of cab drivers who charges girls fixed rates, drives them to the middle of nowhere, rapes them, and leaves them. Thankfully I have long legs and can jump out of cabs while they're still moving. I think pepper spray would be a wise investment for the next few months.

Ciao Bella!

Sammy Soks

Late Night Food Porn

It's 2:54am Rome time and you know what I'm thinking about...

Za Za's, Florence- Pizza with porcini mushrooms, arugula, truffle oil, pesto and mozzarella

Giolitti, Rome- my first taste of gelato (light chocolate, white chocolate, tiramisu, and whipped cream on top)

Some treats in Florence- I chose the nutella cookies

Aqua El Due, Florence- Balsamic Steak TO DIE FOR

Trastevere, Rome- fresh Caprese salad and my favorite, Penna Arrabiata

Antico Arco, Rome- Rigatoni Pomodoro

Friend's Cafe, Rome- Latte served with love

Babington's Tea Room, Spanish Steps- Moroccan mint-infused tea

Trastevere, Rome- Rum shots topped with whipped cream, served in chocolate shot glasses

Our apartment, Rome- Raquel and Danya's delicious homemade meal! My contribution was the pitcher of vodka coke.

Okay, you can stop drooling now. 

Ciao Bella!

Sammy Soks