I have a few observations on Italians that I would like to write down before I forget what they are:
1.) Italian men have much more of a physical relationship with their children than American men I have seen. It is equally likely to see an Italian father holding his child or pushing a stroller or playing ball with them as it is to see the mother doing such things. As a matter of fact, the Italian mothers have a tendency to sit out during the fun just watching, having a coffee, or talking with other mothers.
2.) If an Italian boy finds out you are from America, you are "very beautiful" regardless of what you say to the contrary. Mind you, it is "very beautiful" not just beautiful. This phrase is usually followed by a very forward gesture: they try to kiss you. It is very simple to divert said gesture. Simply cover your mouth, say no, and quickly walk away.
3.) Italians love to dance. This is especially apparent in the discoteca. Italian men don't just stand there in the club and let the women dance for them. No, they genuinely like to dance and it is such a nice sight and feeling.
4.) Now, one of the hazards of the discoteca is that Italian men also like to touch. This really has not presented much of a problem for me. Most of the time, they just go for my hair or my face (a sign of affection is running your hand down the side of someone's face, it is endearing).
5.) Obviously, one of the biggest problems that anyone will have while visiting another country will be the changes in cultural cues and rules. I don’t know what certain gestures, slang, and other forms of Italian communication mean. If I go to a club and dance with a friend, has the relationship changed or does it stay the same neutral that it was before. Or was it never neutral in the first place and therefore have I led this person to believe something they shouldn’t? This type of scenario is complicated enough using my own language, but add in the factor that I can’t understand the majority of the words they are using and I am irretrievably lost…as any normal person would be.
6.) At the same, Italians are the most laid back people. They open their shops usually around 8 or 9 in the morning, close them from 1 to 4, open them again from 4 to 8 and then the day is done. To top it all off, they get loads more vacation time than Americans do. I think they generally enjoy themselves most of the time working or not.
7.) The drinking age in Italy is 16. Children grow up around wine. I think that this is the reason that they are much less likely to binge drink because they grew up knowing how to actually enjoy a beverage for what it is and the art that goes with making it.
8.) The Italians that I have met who speak English tell me that they like speaking English more because it is easier. This utterly baffles me because I have a hard enough time with it and I’ve been speaking it all of my life.
sabato 17 ottobre 2009
lunedì 12 ottobre 2009
Ruins, Ruins Everywhere…
This three day weekend, Chelsea and I decided to travel south and go to Pompei and Mount Vesuvius. This is our adventure:
On Friday, all of us girls had to get up early in order to catch the 8:13 train to Perugia. Our Italian professor, Chiara, wanted to show us the chocolate factory there. Needless to say I was in absolute heaven there. I do love chocolate so. I did feel bad for the workers though. When you take a tour of the factory, you basically just walk above it in this windowed walkway. I know I would feel like an absolute goldfish if people were watching me do my job.
Right after the chocolate factory, Chelsea and I went to the train station to catch a train to Arezzo. Ironically, even though Perugia is closer to Naples than Arezzo is, it’s cheaper to go there from Arezzo. It’s simply because from Arezzo, you can go through the mountains instead of around them from Perugia. Come to find out, there was going to be a train strike on Sunday. This was a major problem because if there was a strike, we would not be able to get back until Monday and that would mean missing classes which is not good. In the end, we decided to chance it because who knew if we would be able to go again. One of the best decision of my life. So we got to Arezzo and had to make a mad dash to the train. We got on and managed to find a couple of seats together. Unfortunately, we didn’t get to keep them. As it turns out this was a particularly crowded train and because we had bought our tickets from a kiosk, we didn’t have reserved seats. So we had to park ourselves in the hallway on these little (and uncomfortable) pull out seats from the wall. Then, when the ticket master came around, we found out that our tickets were not for the right train. So not only did we have to pay the extra money for the right ticket, we had to pay a fine for the mistake. Needless to say, when we finally reached Naples, we weren’t exactly happy campers. A five hour train ride and money just oozing out of my wallet. Not only that, but we had to take another train to get to the city where our B&B was. Luckily, that one was easy to find and cheap. Unluckily, I had managed to miscalculate the direction in which our B&B was on the map and we had no idea where we were. So we called Omar, the owner of the B&B and he very kindly came and got us:
Lauren: “Omar? It’s Lauren. I’m standing in front of SISA, the supermarket.”
Omar: “SISA?!? Oh no. Stay there. I come get you.”
(After we hung up)
Lauren: “That can’t be good.”
Chelsea: “No, I don’t think so.”
He found us. We walked to the B&B and he showed us our room. We got all of our stuff straightened out. We fell into bed. All was well.
The next day (Saturday) we went to Pompei (if you think I spelled that wrong, don’t. The Italians spell it with one i.). That was way bigger than I though it was going to be. We basically spent all morning there. We even ate our packed lunch in one of their gardens. It felt amazing. It is hard to imagine the city as it should have been, especially with a pizza parlor right in the middle of it. Ah, the power of tourism. After lunch, Chelsea and I got on a bus and did something I’ve never even dreamed I would get to do: we climbed Mt. Vesuvius. When I say climbed, I actually mean power walked because we had to make it back down the mountain fairly quickly in order to catch the last bus back down to Pompei. Anyway, the crater is crazy wild. It’s huge and intimidating and volcanic. Looking down into it, you wouldn’t have guessed that it was an active volcano because there was plant life growing inside. However, Let’s Go, our guide book, says that the next time Vesuvius erupts will be the worst eruption since Pompei. This is a devastating thought because so many people have made their homes right beneath the volcano and why shouldn’t they? It’s a booming tourist area any time of the year. Not only will they loose everything, historic places like Pompei and Ercolano will be lost all over again and may not survive a second time. The volcano is monitored very carefully and extensive evacuation plans have been made but in the end, many very important artifacts, history, and people will be lost. It’s a sad thought but an ever present one in the face of such a natural wonder.
After we got of the mountain, we decided to walk to the train station in Pompei because when we went to the tourist office to ask about bus schedules to Arezzo, they told us to take a train. Go figure. So we walked to the station and talked to the man at the window and he gave us tickets. Apparently there was not going to be a train strike. Awesome news!! So now we had tickets home, reserved seats on the train, and knew where the station was. Success!! We then took our tired selves back to the B&B, went to the supermarket for dinner that night and lunch for the next day, and went to bed early. It had been quite a day.
On Sunday, Chelsea and I spent the morning in Ercolano. This lesser known city is similar to Pompei. Instead of volcanic ash, it was covered in volcanic mud which apparently preserves much better. Ercolano was also better excavated so many of the buildings and their artifacts are in better shape. All in all, I enjoyed Ercolano more than Pompei. Pompei is over-run with tourists while Ercolano is not. It had a couple of tourists groups but nothing overwhelming. The art is more prevalent in Ercolano too. The floors had beautiful marble and geometric designs and the frescos on the walls were full of bright colors. So if you ever decide to go south, I definitely suggest this site as a stop. The weather was just perfect as well. Overcast skies without rain make for nice, cool weather. After our ruins exploration, we made our way back to Pompei and the train station. We made the mistake of getting on to the wrong train line but in the end it got us closer to the train station than originally expected. A blessing in disguise. We got on the train and had the whole car entirely to ourselves until we got to Rome. There we were joined by a young man who slept most of the time so no problem there. We had packed our lunch the nigh before with crackers, sandwich meat, cheese, grapes, nutella sandwiches, and two kinds of yogurt. A wonderful lunch and plenty of munchies to snack on. This is a major lesson I have learned while traveling. Always bring food. Always. You never know how long you are going to be on a train or a bus and find yourself almost passing out. It saves huge amount of money as well.
In the end, we made it safe and sound to Arezzo (where we met up with Amanda, who had just returned from Venice.) and then had an uneventful bus ride back to Sansepolcro. I love this place.
On Friday, all of us girls had to get up early in order to catch the 8:13 train to Perugia. Our Italian professor, Chiara, wanted to show us the chocolate factory there. Needless to say I was in absolute heaven there. I do love chocolate so. I did feel bad for the workers though. When you take a tour of the factory, you basically just walk above it in this windowed walkway. I know I would feel like an absolute goldfish if people were watching me do my job.
Right after the chocolate factory, Chelsea and I went to the train station to catch a train to Arezzo. Ironically, even though Perugia is closer to Naples than Arezzo is, it’s cheaper to go there from Arezzo. It’s simply because from Arezzo, you can go through the mountains instead of around them from Perugia. Come to find out, there was going to be a train strike on Sunday. This was a major problem because if there was a strike, we would not be able to get back until Monday and that would mean missing classes which is not good. In the end, we decided to chance it because who knew if we would be able to go again. One of the best decision of my life. So we got to Arezzo and had to make a mad dash to the train. We got on and managed to find a couple of seats together. Unfortunately, we didn’t get to keep them. As it turns out this was a particularly crowded train and because we had bought our tickets from a kiosk, we didn’t have reserved seats. So we had to park ourselves in the hallway on these little (and uncomfortable) pull out seats from the wall. Then, when the ticket master came around, we found out that our tickets were not for the right train. So not only did we have to pay the extra money for the right ticket, we had to pay a fine for the mistake. Needless to say, when we finally reached Naples, we weren’t exactly happy campers. A five hour train ride and money just oozing out of my wallet. Not only that, but we had to take another train to get to the city where our B&B was. Luckily, that one was easy to find and cheap. Unluckily, I had managed to miscalculate the direction in which our B&B was on the map and we had no idea where we were. So we called Omar, the owner of the B&B and he very kindly came and got us:
Lauren: “Omar? It’s Lauren. I’m standing in front of SISA, the supermarket.”
Omar: “SISA?!? Oh no. Stay there. I come get you.”
(After we hung up)
Lauren: “That can’t be good.”
Chelsea: “No, I don’t think so.”
He found us. We walked to the B&B and he showed us our room. We got all of our stuff straightened out. We fell into bed. All was well.
The next day (Saturday) we went to Pompei (if you think I spelled that wrong, don’t. The Italians spell it with one i.). That was way bigger than I though it was going to be. We basically spent all morning there. We even ate our packed lunch in one of their gardens. It felt amazing. It is hard to imagine the city as it should have been, especially with a pizza parlor right in the middle of it. Ah, the power of tourism. After lunch, Chelsea and I got on a bus and did something I’ve never even dreamed I would get to do: we climbed Mt. Vesuvius. When I say climbed, I actually mean power walked because we had to make it back down the mountain fairly quickly in order to catch the last bus back down to Pompei. Anyway, the crater is crazy wild. It’s huge and intimidating and volcanic. Looking down into it, you wouldn’t have guessed that it was an active volcano because there was plant life growing inside. However, Let’s Go, our guide book, says that the next time Vesuvius erupts will be the worst eruption since Pompei. This is a devastating thought because so many people have made their homes right beneath the volcano and why shouldn’t they? It’s a booming tourist area any time of the year. Not only will they loose everything, historic places like Pompei and Ercolano will be lost all over again and may not survive a second time. The volcano is monitored very carefully and extensive evacuation plans have been made but in the end, many very important artifacts, history, and people will be lost. It’s a sad thought but an ever present one in the face of such a natural wonder.
After we got of the mountain, we decided to walk to the train station in Pompei because when we went to the tourist office to ask about bus schedules to Arezzo, they told us to take a train. Go figure. So we walked to the station and talked to the man at the window and he gave us tickets. Apparently there was not going to be a train strike. Awesome news!! So now we had tickets home, reserved seats on the train, and knew where the station was. Success!! We then took our tired selves back to the B&B, went to the supermarket for dinner that night and lunch for the next day, and went to bed early. It had been quite a day.
On Sunday, Chelsea and I spent the morning in Ercolano. This lesser known city is similar to Pompei. Instead of volcanic ash, it was covered in volcanic mud which apparently preserves much better. Ercolano was also better excavated so many of the buildings and their artifacts are in better shape. All in all, I enjoyed Ercolano more than Pompei. Pompei is over-run with tourists while Ercolano is not. It had a couple of tourists groups but nothing overwhelming. The art is more prevalent in Ercolano too. The floors had beautiful marble and geometric designs and the frescos on the walls were full of bright colors. So if you ever decide to go south, I definitely suggest this site as a stop. The weather was just perfect as well. Overcast skies without rain make for nice, cool weather. After our ruins exploration, we made our way back to Pompei and the train station. We made the mistake of getting on to the wrong train line but in the end it got us closer to the train station than originally expected. A blessing in disguise. We got on the train and had the whole car entirely to ourselves until we got to Rome. There we were joined by a young man who slept most of the time so no problem there. We had packed our lunch the nigh before with crackers, sandwich meat, cheese, grapes, nutella sandwiches, and two kinds of yogurt. A wonderful lunch and plenty of munchies to snack on. This is a major lesson I have learned while traveling. Always bring food. Always. You never know how long you are going to be on a train or a bus and find yourself almost passing out. It saves huge amount of money as well.
In the end, we made it safe and sound to Arezzo (where we met up with Amanda, who had just returned from Venice.) and then had an uneventful bus ride back to Sansepolcro. I love this place.
martedì 6 ottobre 2009
View from the Top...the written portion
This blog was supposed to be posted last week (the week of the 28th of September). Sadly, I am terribly behind. But I will be posting both this and my blog about Pomei one right after another so do not fear.
The picture entitled “View from the Top” was taken by my roommate Samantha. I decided I needed an inspirational photograph and I think that one will do very nicely. It was taken in Montecasale.
I must apologize for disregarding my blog these past few days. It has been extremely and excruciatingly busy. Yes, even in Italy, there are hell weeks. To make a long story short and in order to not repeat what all of my friends have written on their blogs, I will paraphrase:
Massive Cleaning of Palazzo/Visit High School/Check Test In Italian: Friday (the 2nd). Trustees, Alumni and President Arrived: Saturday (the 3rd). Grand Opening: Sunday (the 4th). Term Paper Due: Monday (which got moved to Tuesday, thank sweet baby James). Florence With Trustees, Alumni, and President: Tuesday (the 6th). Midterm for Italian and Art History Final Exam: Wednesday (the 7th).
Samantha and I have transported a good southern phrase for all of this: Trespassers will be shot, survivors will be shot again. Fortunately, every single one of the Meredith folks were an absolute joy to be around and we truly had a hard time saying goodbye when they left.
Now I've managed to get all depressing and that's silly. So a new and happier topic: Verona and Venice last weekend (the 25th through the 27th). I promised to write about them and now I am.
To begin, we had the hardest time finding a hotel. We were originally going to stay on Venice but when we found it impossible to find a place to stay I found a very cheap hostel in Verona: 17 euro a night and breakfast was included. Point for me. I have never booked a hotel in my life so needless to say I was exceedingly excited about my find. Unfortunately, said hostel was a good 20 to 30 minute walk from the train station. This is not horrible if you don't plan on using the train a lot but we did. Point to naive travel planner mishaps. Score is now tied.
Chelsea, Jenna, and I left for Verona early Friday morning. We arrived there (after paying 40 euro apiece for the train tickets...ugh) at about noon. We then proceeded to take one of the longest walks known to man in order to get to the hostel. I had packed a duffel bag instead of a backpack because I didn't know if we needed sheets. We didn't. They were provided. Extra weight brought for nothing. Point two goes to planner mishaps. I'm behind. After finally getting to the hotel, we went out to get some much needed food (silly us didn't bring a single crumb...another point to naivete...that makes three). Then we pretty much wandered around Verona. We managed to find a garden which was on of the most beautiful things I have ever seen. It was called the Giardino Giusti and even though it was 6 euro to get in, it was completely worth it. The views, the hedge maze, and the general ambiance were to die for. I recommend it with all of my heart to anyone planning on traveling to Verona. We then went back to the hostel for dinner (only 8 euro, point for me. 2-3) Amanda met up with us later that night (after an eventful night in which she went to the wrong hostel, among other things) and we slept quite nicely.
The next day we traveled to Venice. I can't describe Venice. It's a place to experience. I know that many people have a hard time enjoying it because it is filled to the brim with tourists but I can't bring myself to dislike it. It's just a magical place for me. We got to go to the island of Murano, where they make glass and I got quite a few nice gifts. We just generally enjoyed ourselves just wandering around and a going into a bunch of shops. I even got to see some of the glass blowers at work, which is one of my favorite things. I could sit and watch those people for hours. One in particular specialized in making spiders. As creepy as that sounds, his spiders were truly beautiful. They were so delicate looking that you would think breathing on them would make them break. In truth, I’m sure they could last through quite a bit of wear and tear.
Unfortunately, we had an early train out of Verona so we didn’t get to see everything we wanted to but in the end this just means that I have something to come back to. We managed to get back to Sansepolcro in one piece so another point to me. Tied game. Not bad, but practice makes perfection.
The picture entitled “View from the Top” was taken by my roommate Samantha. I decided I needed an inspirational photograph and I think that one will do very nicely. It was taken in Montecasale.
I must apologize for disregarding my blog these past few days. It has been extremely and excruciatingly busy. Yes, even in Italy, there are hell weeks. To make a long story short and in order to not repeat what all of my friends have written on their blogs, I will paraphrase:
Massive Cleaning of Palazzo/Visit High School/Check Test In Italian: Friday (the 2nd). Trustees, Alumni and President Arrived: Saturday (the 3rd). Grand Opening: Sunday (the 4th). Term Paper Due: Monday (which got moved to Tuesday, thank sweet baby James). Florence With Trustees, Alumni, and President: Tuesday (the 6th). Midterm for Italian and Art History Final Exam: Wednesday (the 7th).
Samantha and I have transported a good southern phrase for all of this: Trespassers will be shot, survivors will be shot again. Fortunately, every single one of the Meredith folks were an absolute joy to be around and we truly had a hard time saying goodbye when they left.
Now I've managed to get all depressing and that's silly. So a new and happier topic: Verona and Venice last weekend (the 25th through the 27th). I promised to write about them and now I am.
To begin, we had the hardest time finding a hotel. We were originally going to stay on Venice but when we found it impossible to find a place to stay I found a very cheap hostel in Verona: 17 euro a night and breakfast was included. Point for me. I have never booked a hotel in my life so needless to say I was exceedingly excited about my find. Unfortunately, said hostel was a good 20 to 30 minute walk from the train station. This is not horrible if you don't plan on using the train a lot but we did. Point to naive travel planner mishaps. Score is now tied.
Chelsea, Jenna, and I left for Verona early Friday morning. We arrived there (after paying 40 euro apiece for the train tickets...ugh) at about noon. We then proceeded to take one of the longest walks known to man in order to get to the hostel. I had packed a duffel bag instead of a backpack because I didn't know if we needed sheets. We didn't. They were provided. Extra weight brought for nothing. Point two goes to planner mishaps. I'm behind. After finally getting to the hotel, we went out to get some much needed food (silly us didn't bring a single crumb...another point to naivete...that makes three). Then we pretty much wandered around Verona. We managed to find a garden which was on of the most beautiful things I have ever seen. It was called the Giardino Giusti and even though it was 6 euro to get in, it was completely worth it. The views, the hedge maze, and the general ambiance were to die for. I recommend it with all of my heart to anyone planning on traveling to Verona. We then went back to the hostel for dinner (only 8 euro, point for me. 2-3) Amanda met up with us later that night (after an eventful night in which she went to the wrong hostel, among other things) and we slept quite nicely.
The next day we traveled to Venice. I can't describe Venice. It's a place to experience. I know that many people have a hard time enjoying it because it is filled to the brim with tourists but I can't bring myself to dislike it. It's just a magical place for me. We got to go to the island of Murano, where they make glass and I got quite a few nice gifts. We just generally enjoyed ourselves just wandering around and a going into a bunch of shops. I even got to see some of the glass blowers at work, which is one of my favorite things. I could sit and watch those people for hours. One in particular specialized in making spiders. As creepy as that sounds, his spiders were truly beautiful. They were so delicate looking that you would think breathing on them would make them break. In truth, I’m sure they could last through quite a bit of wear and tear.
Unfortunately, we had an early train out of Verona so we didn’t get to see everything we wanted to but in the end this just means that I have something to come back to. We managed to get back to Sansepolcro in one piece so another point to me. Tied game. Not bad, but practice makes perfection.
lunedì 28 settembre 2009
Bus Rides
It occurs to me that I have yet to write about my bus trips to and from Arezzo. These trips happen fairly often due to several reasons. The train station is in Arezzo as is the police station (which apparently you have to visit in order to get finger printed and you have to get finger printed in order to study in Italy…who knew?). Arezzo is just a central location essential to small towns such as Sansepolcro. I’m not an overly huge fan of Arezzo, but that’s just a personal feeling. I guess I should say that it has very little hold over me. However, the bus rides are a favorite of mine. Today (Sunday), I returned from Venice and Verona (which I will write about later) and we caught the 5:15 bus back to Sansepolcro. I have made the discovery that this is the absolute best time to take the bus because the sun is just beginning to set and the Tuscan colors are set off to an absolute tee. The small town of Anghiari is one we always pass when going back to Sansepolcro. Today, I have seen it in its glory. Anghiari is set on top of a hill and when the bus goes around said hill, the entire valley is laid out before the starving eyes of weary travelers such as myself. With the sun brushing the browns, golds, greens, and other autumnal colors it truly becomes the vision everyone says it is. The houses, quaint in their archaic ways, are clustered in groups scattered around the valley and their colors are man’s attempts at imitating nature. They have done a splendid job and unlike most manmade buildings, provide a pleasing scene for the onlooker that does not clash horridly with the surrounding countryside. It is this sight that finally produces a sigh of relief from me. I am almost home.
At the same time it is strange to think of Italy as home… mostly because so much of it is still foreign to me. I’m a just beginning to touch the tip of the iceberg that is Italy’s history and I won’t get far beyond that tip by the end of the semester. Yet I have friends here, and the girls are so close to me that they must be considered family. I have a comfortable bed, wonderful food, and people who love me both here and back in the States. Therefore, it must be a home.
At the same time it is strange to think of Italy as home… mostly because so much of it is still foreign to me. I’m a just beginning to touch the tip of the iceberg that is Italy’s history and I won’t get far beyond that tip by the end of the semester. Yet I have friends here, and the girls are so close to me that they must be considered family. I have a comfortable bed, wonderful food, and people who love me both here and back in the States. Therefore, it must be a home.
martedì 22 settembre 2009
Florence
I find it hard to decide if I like Florence or not. I know I should feel overwhelmed by a city as huge as it is but I don’t. I think this is a good thing. I assume it is because I feel more comfortable in the role of traveler and my awful, terrible, and horrible sense of direction is slowly but surely becoming less of a burden. I think the key to traveling to such large places is having a plan: picking out specific places that must be seen (and accepting the fact that seeing every single museum and church and painting and sculpture is impossible) and leaving a little wiggle room for shopping and eating. Another key is being able to take that plan and abandon it completely. Sometimes when the mind has an order, the body demands another, such as plopping down outside the Duomo after an exhausting climb to the top of the world and not thinking about anything else at that moment except how much my feet want to kill me. I find that being able to balance both keys will ensure a satisfactory visit. No, I didn’t go jewelry shopping on the Ponte Vecchio. Instead I climbed 463 steps to the top of the Duomo. I doubt I will ever do it again but if I had to do it over, I totally would. The climb up wasn’t as bad as I thought it was going to be and the view was beyond imagining but there were so many people up there (many of them frustrated by the climb which I had no patience for because they were given fair warning) that I felt really dampened the experience. Then I was able to be less than an inch away from Michelangelo’s fresco that he painted on the ceiling of the dome and felt a thousand times better. It’s beautifully grotesque. It depicts both heaven and hell and Jesus is doing his holy duty by sitting on his throne and looking down onto his faithful believers and his angels are flying around being happy as pie while all kinds of cruel, torturous things are being done to the people in hell. Beautifully grotesque is really all I’ve got. I managed to see Michelangelo’s “David” too. David is quite large. That’s all I really have to say about him. Everyone knows that he is a magnificent sculpture and that one cannot possibly fathom an imagination like Michelangelo’s but no one ever tells you just how big he is. So now I’m telling you: David is very, very big. Telling you this will not change the reaction you will have which, I swear, will be “Wow, David is a gigantic statue”. David is from the Bible story “David and Goliath” by the way. Did I make that connection before this weekend? Of course not. It’s not Italy if some piece of art isn’t making you feel like a complete idiot.
Speaking of art, the Uffizi is the place to go if you want to experience art overdrive. It was originally built for the Medici’s as their office buildings and now houses so many “Annunciations”, Madonna with Child”, and other Bible story paintings you’d swear you’d taken a step back in time. The first floor consists of sketches and prints and the second floor houses paintings and sculptures. This massive collection took the entire morning to view and we didn’t even see the first floor. I did get to see Botticelli’s “Birth of Venus” and “La Primavera” and neither was a disappointment. They are rather large paintings and I wish I could have taken a picture but alas, no cameras allowed. Par for the course I guess. I find I quite enjoy an artist by the name of Luca Signorelli. He was a student of Piero della Francesca and I just love his work. I can’t really explain why, but I just have a strong reaction whenever I see a painting of his.
I didn’t buy anything while I was in Florence. Don’t get me wrong, I love some good old Italian leather…I just don’t like good old Italian leather prices. I’m a frugal kind of person. That wasn’t going to change because I am in Italy. It’s hard to explain, but nothing struck me as something I desperately needed to buy. I realize that I might not ever go back to Florence but I spent my money on museums and churches and I’m ok with that. That’s something else I’ve had to come to terms with: just because I’m in Italy doesn’t mean I have to stretch my bank account to its farthest limits. I don’t have to buy everyone I know something from every city I go to and being frugal is an ok thing to be. Here is an interesting shopping observation about Florence. They have a Disney store which thrilled me to no end. What that store does not have is my favorite Disney princess of all time: Belle. My reasoning? It’s because she’s French.
People in Florence do not speak Italian to you. They speak in English and become extremely excited if you even attempt to speak Italian. They will ask “You understand Italian?” and you reply “Un piccolo” (“A little”) and then they proceed to blather in Italian regardless of whether you can understand them or not. They immediately become much more amiable and helpful when they discover that you are at least attempting to speak their language. It has brought to light a brand new set of opinions for me. In the future, when I plan on going to a country whose language I don’t know, I will strive to learn as much as I can before I leave and during my stay as well as carry around a phrase book. I am so grateful to be in a small town where I am forced to speak Italian. One of the more frustrating memories of Florence occurred during breakfast on our second day. During breakfast, there were attendants who refilled cutlery, plates, and food. An American woman got up to ask one of the attendants for another plate. When the attendant didn’t understand her, the American proceeded to raise her voice and just repeat “Plate! Plate!” which of course achieved nothing except to disturb fellow eaters. If the woman had simply looked up the Italian word for plate in a phrase book, annoyance and embarrassment could have been avoided.
If you go to Italy and feel the need to cry your eyes out, look no further than Florentine opera. My travel companion, Chelsea, and I managed to get very cheap tickets to see Verdi’s “La Traviata”. “La Traviata” is what movies such as “Pretty Woman” and “Moulin Rouge” are based on. The basis of the story line is that a prostitute, Violetta, falls head over heels in love with a young man, Alfredo, who loves her desperately back. Unfortunately, Violetta is deathly ill with tuberculosis and Alfredo’s father has interfered with his son’s love life and basically forced Violetta to give Alfredo up. In the end, all miscommunication is revealed and Violetta and Alfredo are able to be back in each others arms just as Violetta’s life leaves her. As a reminder, this is an Italian opera so nothing can be understood but the pure beauty of voice and piano are often universally comprehensible. During the last act I proceeded to cry profusely a.) because I am a hopeless romantic and it wasn’t fair that Violetta had to die and b.) because the feeling and power behind the voices was pure magic. So I made a fool of myself but I think it was well worth it.
Florence is a whirlwind kind of town. It is easy to like and easy to be disappointed in as well. I’m not sure I can explain this last comment. I think that Florence is just a place you have to experience and feel for yourself.
Speaking of art, the Uffizi is the place to go if you want to experience art overdrive. It was originally built for the Medici’s as their office buildings and now houses so many “Annunciations”, Madonna with Child”, and other Bible story paintings you’d swear you’d taken a step back in time. The first floor consists of sketches and prints and the second floor houses paintings and sculptures. This massive collection took the entire morning to view and we didn’t even see the first floor. I did get to see Botticelli’s “Birth of Venus” and “La Primavera” and neither was a disappointment. They are rather large paintings and I wish I could have taken a picture but alas, no cameras allowed. Par for the course I guess. I find I quite enjoy an artist by the name of Luca Signorelli. He was a student of Piero della Francesca and I just love his work. I can’t really explain why, but I just have a strong reaction whenever I see a painting of his.
I didn’t buy anything while I was in Florence. Don’t get me wrong, I love some good old Italian leather…I just don’t like good old Italian leather prices. I’m a frugal kind of person. That wasn’t going to change because I am in Italy. It’s hard to explain, but nothing struck me as something I desperately needed to buy. I realize that I might not ever go back to Florence but I spent my money on museums and churches and I’m ok with that. That’s something else I’ve had to come to terms with: just because I’m in Italy doesn’t mean I have to stretch my bank account to its farthest limits. I don’t have to buy everyone I know something from every city I go to and being frugal is an ok thing to be. Here is an interesting shopping observation about Florence. They have a Disney store which thrilled me to no end. What that store does not have is my favorite Disney princess of all time: Belle. My reasoning? It’s because she’s French.
People in Florence do not speak Italian to you. They speak in English and become extremely excited if you even attempt to speak Italian. They will ask “You understand Italian?” and you reply “Un piccolo” (“A little”) and then they proceed to blather in Italian regardless of whether you can understand them or not. They immediately become much more amiable and helpful when they discover that you are at least attempting to speak their language. It has brought to light a brand new set of opinions for me. In the future, when I plan on going to a country whose language I don’t know, I will strive to learn as much as I can before I leave and during my stay as well as carry around a phrase book. I am so grateful to be in a small town where I am forced to speak Italian. One of the more frustrating memories of Florence occurred during breakfast on our second day. During breakfast, there were attendants who refilled cutlery, plates, and food. An American woman got up to ask one of the attendants for another plate. When the attendant didn’t understand her, the American proceeded to raise her voice and just repeat “Plate! Plate!” which of course achieved nothing except to disturb fellow eaters. If the woman had simply looked up the Italian word for plate in a phrase book, annoyance and embarrassment could have been avoided.
If you go to Italy and feel the need to cry your eyes out, look no further than Florentine opera. My travel companion, Chelsea, and I managed to get very cheap tickets to see Verdi’s “La Traviata”. “La Traviata” is what movies such as “Pretty Woman” and “Moulin Rouge” are based on. The basis of the story line is that a prostitute, Violetta, falls head over heels in love with a young man, Alfredo, who loves her desperately back. Unfortunately, Violetta is deathly ill with tuberculosis and Alfredo’s father has interfered with his son’s love life and basically forced Violetta to give Alfredo up. In the end, all miscommunication is revealed and Violetta and Alfredo are able to be back in each others arms just as Violetta’s life leaves her. As a reminder, this is an Italian opera so nothing can be understood but the pure beauty of voice and piano are often universally comprehensible. During the last act I proceeded to cry profusely a.) because I am a hopeless romantic and it wasn’t fair that Violetta had to die and b.) because the feeling and power behind the voices was pure magic. So I made a fool of myself but I think it was well worth it.
Florence is a whirlwind kind of town. It is easy to like and easy to be disappointed in as well. I’m not sure I can explain this last comment. I think that Florence is just a place you have to experience and feel for yourself.
mercoledì 16 settembre 2009
Cathedrals
I do not consider myself to be a very religious person. I have my own faith. I do feel that the earth cannot be so beautiful for nothing and that a higher being is there to nurse it along. However, I constantly feel the weak points of my faith in the face of the driving force that is the Catholic Church within Italy. The monuments that are their cathedrals not only consistently take my breath away but are pillars of strength within the community. Although American churches have their own beauty, it is hard to compare because American churches do not have such rich history. Some of these cathedrals have been around longer than my country has been a nation and it is a simple fact that Catholics hold a lot of pride in the places that they worship. While in the presence of these often huge buildings, I imagine the hundreds of thousands of believers that have laid their mark in them. I imagine the hundreds of years worth of people whose hands have rubbed smooth the intricate designs in solid wrought iron railings. I look at the wood of the altars and see the places in the middle where so many knees have bent in prayer that the indentions of them are forever set. I look at the paintings and the frescoes that adorn the walls and humble myself to the beauty of the art. Then, I close my eyes and let the history and the art and the palpable faith that can be felt in every stone wash over my soul…and then I let myself be awed by the sheer force of it all.
This past weekend, I was fortunate enough to have the opportunity to travel to Siena, which has become one of my favorite cities. Samantha, Hannah, and I stayed with a wonderful couple, Ben and Martha (who is a Meredith alum) in their guest house. In Siena, there is a massive church called the Duomo. I will try to describe it to the best of my ability but I’m afraid the description will fall hopelessly short. However, before I describe it, I must say the way we found it. When we first arrived in Siena, the girls and I decided we wanted to see what people who come to Siena always see: the Campo and the Duomo. The Campo the massive piazza located in the center of town. From the Campo, the tower of the Duomo can be seen. We headed in that direction but because so many of the buildings are so tall, the tower of the Duomo gets lost easily. So when we got there, I felt as if I had run right into the church itself. We had come upon it so suddenly that I had to take a large breath and I know that my eyes widened into large globes as I took it all in. The most striking thing about the Duomo is the fact that it is horizontally striped with black and white marble. As tacky as this sounds, it is by far one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen. Lions grace the stone arches in front of the doors and the faces of countless saints and apostles gazed down upon me as I stood in line to get my ticket.When we got inside, I was once again awed by the sheer size and glory of the dome, the marble pictures on the floor, the busts and statues all around, and the wooden seats and paneling. As I am gazing at all of this, I must constantly remind myself to breathe because I feel a little overwhelmed. Then I think that there are some people in this world who will never be able to experience this beauty and I really, really want them to because sometimes faith needs a little boost. What better way to boost faith than to view firsthand the beauty that faith can create?
This past weekend, I was fortunate enough to have the opportunity to travel to Siena, which has become one of my favorite cities. Samantha, Hannah, and I stayed with a wonderful couple, Ben and Martha (who is a Meredith alum) in their guest house. In Siena, there is a massive church called the Duomo. I will try to describe it to the best of my ability but I’m afraid the description will fall hopelessly short. However, before I describe it, I must say the way we found it. When we first arrived in Siena, the girls and I decided we wanted to see what people who come to Siena always see: the Campo and the Duomo. The Campo the massive piazza located in the center of town. From the Campo, the tower of the Duomo can be seen. We headed in that direction but because so many of the buildings are so tall, the tower of the Duomo gets lost easily. So when we got there, I felt as if I had run right into the church itself. We had come upon it so suddenly that I had to take a large breath and I know that my eyes widened into large globes as I took it all in. The most striking thing about the Duomo is the fact that it is horizontally striped with black and white marble. As tacky as this sounds, it is by far one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen. Lions grace the stone arches in front of the doors and the faces of countless saints and apostles gazed down upon me as I stood in line to get my ticket.When we got inside, I was once again awed by the sheer size and glory of the dome, the marble pictures on the floor, the busts and statues all around, and the wooden seats and paneling. As I am gazing at all of this, I must constantly remind myself to breathe because I feel a little overwhelmed. Then I think that there are some people in this world who will never be able to experience this beauty and I really, really want them to because sometimes faith needs a little boost. What better way to boost faith than to view firsthand the beauty that faith can create?
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