Ultima Cena

I just came back from an obscenely early dinner, my last dinner in Italy for the time being. It was lovely; a good penne pasta with rucola and tomato, frizzante water, and a good red wine. I sat there, in the bistro, reflecting upon my time in Italy, and realized how much Italy has affected me.

I came here initially slightly thrilled at the fact that I understood most of what was said around me, and able to say intelligent things relatively well. I leave able to make conversation, having bonded with a magnificent host family and learned from an ingenious professor. I can converse now, and feel the sting a little more when people address me in english first, and then look surprised when I speak Italian. I want to pass as one of them, but it's a goal that is near unobtainable-- I will never cease to be American; I can only try to be Italian as well.

I have naturalized-- I love late meals, "acqua frizzante," going out in piazza, seeing nothing wrong with daily strikes, and am much more relaxed with my time. I have discovered the good sense in not being in a rush, not always having somewhere else to go, taking time to savor the moment a good Brunello hits your lips and you feel the little tingles all the way down. I have started to acquire the taste for bitter drinks and shinier things, and I've started dressing a little differently here. At times, I even walk slower. Italy has its own pace; things are never early, simply around a certain time. And this is not necessarily a bad thing, though on the other hand, waiting an hour in line can be infuriating. This helps explain why the concept of a line is near foreign to the average Italian-- queues are not orderly, they are compressed.

I'm going to miss the gelato, the attention put into every dish of food, the inane television and the fashion. The value put on the simpler things, and the prevalence of food in nearly every type of advertising. The sound of drums and voices in Siena, and the easy flow of conversation on the piazza. The "acqua potabile" of Fontegaia, and the beautiful bells of the Duomo. Meetlife Cafe, Dublin Post, Barone Rosso, those two corner bars, G&Ts at 1 am, and Giorgiones after. Discussions about life and philosophy and historical reenactment, and getting to know my friends all the better.

I have had one of the best summers ever to date, and I know that I'll be back in Siena sometime. It will be waiting, and I can find myself in piazza once again.

Roma

I am writing this from my hotel room, but I figured I'd summarize my time in Rome a week ago first.We left early friday, having rented a bus, and my class peeled off from the rest to meet our patron, Bob, at the Spanish Steps. We checked into our hotel, and then proceeded on a whirlwind tour of the Eternal City, punctuated by churches and gelato.
I love the roman accent. There's something instantly more easy going about it, something less hurried, than further north. If you can get through its thickness, it truly is a wonderful sound, and makes perfect sense for the people it affects.
The second day, we continued on our Michelangelo themed trip, sipping Bellinis and enjoying pasta cacio e pepe, which is delicious.
The last day was the roman forum. And the villa borghese, which has a HUUUUGE collection of Caravaggio works, which are revelatory in person.
I love the Eternal City; I always get this notion that I should go back and spend some time there, to get to know it better, for I think I really only have a handle on the touristy side of it, the Roman Holiday, packaged and wrapped up in a little mini-itinerary. But seeing Trastevere at night, or seeing echoes of Fellini at Trevi lead me to know that I am not done with this city. There is still more to meet the eye; something with so rich a history as rome takes some time to really unfold before you.

An excellent cultural illustration

Today, I went to buy a phone card to put a few more euro on my phone; I went to the local supermarket, Conad, and picked it up and proceeded to get on line. At first, all of us waited in a centralized line for one of the three registers to open up. Logical? Of course. But then, at the behest of the cashiers, they changed it. Given that there are 3 separate registers, there should be three separate lines, thus rendering the line area total chaos. And the Italians liked this better.

In other news, I went to Rome this past weekend. Summary to happen soon.

Ferrara!

Last friday we went to Ferrara, a lovely little city about 3 hours away, to visit some museums and locales. Some were very pretty:

Cattedrale di Ferrara: Super Gothic, Super pretty

And others were interesting:

Palazzo Diamante, made from thousands of chunks of marble

We visited museums, but I would be lying if I said that there were any truly "great" works in here. The greatest was La Sala dei Mesi, in the Palazzo Schifanoia, which I couldn't take pictures of, but depicts the months of the year and the zodiac signs they're associated with.

We also had a few pit stops along the way-- I had my first campari soda ever, and it's a decidedly acquired taste, but this probably stems from the cognitive dissonance between its appearance and its taste. It looks like a shirley temple but tastes incredibly bitter-- but not terrible.

And then, lunch, which was magnificent: various salumi from the region and then grilled vegetables, and then the main dish for me: pumpkin filled pasta with butter and sage. Possibly the greatest meal I've had so far.

Lately it's been quiet here, but slowly I'm coming to explore nearly every part of the city, and seeing the hidden views that it offers to those who look.

Who would think I've only a little more than a week left?

Lunch and Musings

The food here is wonderful. Today we had lunch together as a class, with a family whose patriarch is writing his dissertation on Dante and who lectured on Michelangelo's Last Judgment in the Sistine Chapel to us today. And then afterwards, we went to lunch together, at a restaurant that happened to coincide with the meeting of the three terzi of the city-- Città, Camollia, and San Martino.

I ended up rather on the end, to Prof. Mazzotta's left with really no one to talk to but him and a few other adults who I barely knew. Which was fine, as he is wonderful, but it would have been nice to have a few buffer friends around--there's something a bit imposing about being seated to a man as accomplished and ingenious as he.

It was one of the more delicious meals I've had here; many courses, and an overwhelming desire to take a nap, which sadly, the post-meal espresso I had sabotaged the efforts of.

I am more than half done with my time here in Siena. Yesterday, when Whim'n'Rhythm sang Livin' on a Prayer in the cloisters of San Cristoforo, I realized this. I've seen its highlights, its hidden spots, and yet I know that there is still even more to discover here-- I need more time!
Tomorrow we go to Ferrara, to see another Rival of Firenze-- we shall see what shenanigans occur.

Until then: some pictures of places around Siena:Il Duomo: the inside
A lamp in the Onda Contrada

Happy Birthday, America

Things I now appreciate about you:

air conditioning
cold drinks
widely available wifi
less pigeons
walking speed

Things I think this country might be doing better:
food
coffee (caffè!)
speed of life
fashion (no crocs. anywhere)

It's funny how absence made me appreciate my home on a whole different level; as much as I love Italy, and I do love it lots, there is always this sense of being an outsider looking in, in the sense that there are some cultural things I'll never get entirely (hand gestures, etc). But it's getting better; I can navigate bars (not alcoholic ones so much as caffeinated ones) with ease and maintain conversations in Italian. But there still remains this overwhelming desire to keep learning.

And so it goes.

The last few days I've taken a bunch of pictures. Coming soon to this blog!

Palio!

A verbal summary first, and then pictures.

Yesterday started off well enough, with not much happening but a definite tension in the air. The city was on edge, waiting for the afternoon festivities to occur. At about 4 or so, we went to the Duomo to watch the procession of the contradas and the historical court; the historical court includes the crests of old families and lots of hot, fur trimmed, velvet costumes. Then, after a quick breather in the house, I went to L'Entrata dell'Onda (Onda Entrance) to get to the piazza. Oh. My. God. That was chaotic-- so many people, all fighting to get in, and since it's Italians, I was literally rubbing elbows/sides with everyone. After a half hour to travel 50 feet, I finally found the rest of Yale, who had staked out some prime real estate near the Onda side. After watching the end of the parade, we waited expectantly for the race to begin. The horses came out, and silence fell on the Campo; true silence, to the point were it was actually slightly creepy. And then the horses wouldn't line up; they were reset about five times. Finally, the start (or mossa) was valid and they were off, where a 90 second race seemed like an eternity. La Selva, or the forest won, so they've been parading ever since.

And now, some pictures:
an alfiere (flag tosser) for the Aquila (Eagle)

they toss really, really high

Herald TRUMPETS
On the Piazza del Campo: No breathing room whatsoever

A very good day indeed-- I've survived a Palio! And now we're on to some quieter weeks, and now I'll be able to see Siena in a less frenzied state.

Le Prove

Or trials. I went to one today, where they had all the horses come in, accompanied by their be-scarfed contradaioli, belting out the same song, but with 17 different variations, depending on which contrada one becomes a part of.

It's a wonder to hear these voices harmonized, and to see the processions of contradas across town to visit their friends. The other day La Chiocciola (Snail) visited us, and they tossed their flags with those of the civetta and it was good.

I find it a little odd to say "us" because I'm not a contradaiola. Sure, I live here, but I was not born into this insanity of form and function that is a contrada senese. I have my scarf, but I don't feel quite comfortable enough to wear it, given that I know hardly anyone in the contrada outside my family. I want to fix this, and perhaps I will by going to the contrada dinner sometime.... At times, looking at the senesi, I can see how they could truly become a closed city, not in the sense of walls, but in the looks and lack of smiles they give turisti. Whether this is because the turisti are terrible (I've seen it-- many are) or whether they are so encompassed by their contrada, I think that sometimes students like us, who aren't truly turisti but not senesi either get lost in the middle. But perhaps this will get better in time-- even saying buona sera to fellow palazzo dwellers elicited a smile and a mildly confused look; perhaps being more outgoing is worth it.

But back to le prove-- they are essentially Palio lite. Worth it to go to one, but I don't know if I feel the need to go again.

Overall, the tension is heightening in the air-- the next few days should be interesting!

Advertisements on TV are wonderful

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HDLFJvJekxo

Seriously, they make my day sometimes.

So this whole Palio thing

Is kind of insane. Today they assigned the horses to the contradas-- the ones racing are the giraffa, leocorno (unicorn!), bruco (silkworm), l'aquila (eagle), l'istrice (porcupine), torre, nicchio (shell), selva (forest/rhino), l'onda (wave/fish!), and drago. A point of explanation:

The contradas are like residential colleges if you were born/baptised into them, were the size of small towns, and were about 1000 years old. There is passion here beyond anything I've ever seen, where even the selection of horses is cause for tears (of joy or sorrow). I have become desensitized to the sound of drum cadences. Flags are normal, as are men in tights.
I love it-- the spectacle is exalting and exhilarating.

And the next few days should be good.

Firenze: Strike Edition

A few days ago my class took a trip to Florence, or Firenze, to look at stuff from the Renaissance. This being Florence, that ended up being quite a lot. We were going to take a reasonable bus at 8.50, but unfortunately there was a strike organized (to lengthen the weekend, so say our professors) starting at 8.30 so we instead had to meet at 7.50. Regardless, we took a 9.00 bus. Oh, Italy. How I will never understand your sense of timing.

We started at the Galleria degli Uffizi, home to several famous works of art including the Birth of Venus, which you will find on a bottle of Botticelli Olive Oil. Cultural value, indeed. After a lunch on the Piazza della Signoria, we continued on to visit a number of churches, including Santa Maria Novella, Santa Maria della Carmine,

Brancacci Chapel. If you took Nemerov's course, this should seem familiar.

and also some notable areas like Palazzo Pitti and il Ponte Vecchio, bling capital of the world.
did you think I was kidding?

Finally, we ended the day at the Duomo of Firenze, which is climbable. So team Glimmers, as we call ourselves thanks to the word choices of our professor, scaled the Duomo. Hard? Yes. Awesome? Absolutely.

I can see for miles and miles

Tomorrow I will have been here a week

Some thoughts from week one:

My course has started, and it is magical-- yes, we're still loosening up, and no, we don't speak as much Italian as I'd like (in that I kind of don't want to speak english, but I am in the extreme minority on this one), but there is something in Giuseppe Mazzotta's voice and musings that turns me into a sponge that attempts to stutter intelligent thoughts in a language I've really only used conversationally. There's something to be said for being intellectual in another language; given that I think differently in Italian I find myself discovering the use of DS over a year later, with my want to reference everything from Plato (Platone, in italiano) to John Locke. But I truly love it. Our classroom is in the Facoltà di Lettere, which is an old Psychiatric Hospital. Go figure.

I've found lots of new friends, as well, even though I know so many kids coming to Siena. My class, team Glimmers as we've called ourselves, has really bonded, and I think this will be a fabulous group of kids to spend time with for my duration here. We've been on adventures, hung out on the Piazza, and had conversations about life. In vino, verità.

Soccer/football/calcio is big here, and the people gather in all the bars in town to watch "La Partita." We did the same, knowing enough to stake out seats an hour before the game so we could see the azzurri fail against slovakia.

Our corner of the bar

I love the essence of just being, here, where life moves slower but somehow more chaotically. I love the little street signs that are centuries old, and recognizing the etymology of the street. I love seeing the Duomo from my desk window, and I love seeing vespas on ancient passageways that might lead to a 1000 year old fountain instead of a classroom. Siena is an onion that is slowly peeling for me, and I bask in the knowledge I receive from it.

Fontebranda: REbuilt in 1293.

All of this makes me want to work harder at Italian-- sometimes cashiers simply look at me or hear me speak a phrase before switching to English; and though they smile when I persevere and continue speaking la bella lingua, I want to be able to eliminate the americano from my tongue and let it speak freely the language of this land of planned strikes that create long weekends, nutella, vino, and a personality that one simply feels and acknowledges.

Coming soon: adventures in Florence, or why I have legs of steel

Siena: awesome despite the rain

I've been in Siena since Saturday, and now it's Tuesday. It's a wonderful city, but I know that I barely know it-- like a slug to salt, it recoils when touched by rain. I've only explored a little bit, and what I've seen is wonderful. Here I can understand about 90% of things said on the street, if I focus my ears. It's a cool feeling, that.

But first, my host family, which is awesome. I live about a block and a half from the Piazza del Campo, which is the center of the city. We are the Civetta contrada, which means Owl. Our colors are red and black striped with white. I am surrounded by owls. And pigeons, but that's another thing entirely.
The view from my desk:

I live on the very top floor of the building, with a terrazza off one end that is pretty much completely private. My room is small but perfect, with everything that I'd need. And my host family is wonderful and so welcoming.

I just wish it would be truly sunny out soon-- I want to explore the city, but don't really have a desire to if it's this ugly out. Tomorrow there's a clothing market in one of the piazzas, and there we'll see what the weather is like.
Some more views of Siena:

il Torre del Mangia, on the Piazza del Campo

La Piazza del Campo, taken while I was enjoying a Peach-mango gelato

More Milano:

So Italy is undergoing the equivalent of the Flood in terms of rian, lately, so if the lighting is off in the pictures, blame the weather.
These pictures are more from the center of Milano, with places like La Scala (no pictures allowed but beautiful!), and:

Il Duomo, from the outside

Il Duomo, from the Inside
La Galleria, the idealized form of a shopping area

I like Milano. It's a city that seems cold at times, but at others it's elegant and beautiful. The culture is very different from Siena, it seems, but I learned a lot in terms of how Italian cities are-- they aren't the metropolis that one thinks of immediately, but are more like an intricately folded box, with the heart waiting to be discovered.

Up next: Siena!

One Week down

Well, I've been in Italy a week. I'm settled in, here in Siena, with possibly the best house/host family ever. I live two blocks away from the Piazza Del Campo. But we'll get to that.

In the mean time, I've been spending quality time a Milano, sightseeing and absorbing the awesomeness of the country. And perhaps the craziness thereof.


Some things from the past week:

La Stresa, which is on il Lago Maggiore. The Island is "Isola Bella" or the Beautiful Island.
Castello Sforzesco. A castle. In the Middle of Milano.
Sant'Ambrogio. This is the courtyard, and inside there is a gold mosaic ceiling and a golden altar.

It seems that blogger will only let me upload so many at once, so another post will come soon, and then I can start waxing poetic about Siena.

Ciao!

The fine art of packing

So I've pretty much packed for my upcoming trip, figuring out how exactly to fit the roughly 500 pounds of books it seems like I need over there. Sartorially I'm going the route of sundresses, which makes packing infinitely easier.

It's hard trying to game five weeks of clothes, because this means I really pack for less and depend upon the deities of laundry and accessories to carry me through; I think I've got it down, but it has been a challenge.

In the meantime, I've been reading up on my Italian newspapers, particularly Corriere della Sera, and brushing up on the language. I have my passport back, after the Italian consulate decided to make us wait an interminable amount of time. I have a feeling this won't be the last time I get to deal with Italian bureaucracy, but as they say, con tempo tutto va bene.

Less than a week until I leave, and then the real adventure begins!

Pre Departure

I have about two weeks until I set off for my grand Italian adventures. I've started contemplating packing, and getting all of my coursework in order.

Speaking of which, I think a solid half of my total luggage weight will consist of this coursework. It is heavy-- both metaphorically and physically. I will say I am looking forward to reading great literature in its native language, undoctored by translators. Talk about fast progress-- I didn't speak a word of Italian this time two years ago. And now I'm a major. Go figure.

This will be the first time I'll spend any length of time in Italy-- six whole weeks, five of which will be in Siena. This is both scary and exhilarating at the same time.

But now, the biggest thing that preoccupies me is not what I've forgotten to say, or what words I don't know, but my distinct lack of passport and corresponding visa. The consulate seems to be dragging its feet, but hopefully it'll be giving me my papers soon.

In the meantime I'll be reading up on Siena, and the craziness that is the Palio, and simply getting ready for what will undoubtedly be the Best. Summer. Ever.