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.