Observations from the steps...

Today I sat on the steps in Piazza Republica and watched a cat. Sleek and tawny, I'm sure he's fed daily by everyone in Cortona. He was sprawled out haughtily in the middle of the piazza when I arrived with my pizza and made myself comfortable on the sun-warmed steps. His expression was one of disdain, caring neither to move for cars or people, yet not letting anyone touch him either. He was like a rich man with an expensive sports car, pleased by how everyone was looking at him with slight awe in their gazes. When attention began to fade, he immediately recaptured it by springing up and stalking pigeons. As pigeons are the arch enemies of almost everyone (is it possible that anyone likes these fidgety, dirty birds?), we were all immediately rooting for him.

A couple of steps and then down: watching them with a lazy look in his eyes, mocking both us for watching him and the birds for not heeding his dangerous presence. They scurried around, picking at the crumbs of tourists. I'm not sure if they really haven't got a care in the world or if their brain is just too small to comprehend their own meaningless existence. Every time he got closer, they'd suddenly see another crumb farther on and dart after it. They never seemed to see him, yet always managed to keep moving away as a group. His tail swished impatiently, sensing the crowd's losing interest. A couple of people walked away, disappointed in his lack of a kill. The pigeons kept moving: some grabbing at crumbs too big for them and almost choking. "Get them, get them!" We were all encouraging the cat, feeling slightly sorry for this pompous sir. Finally, a couple of quick steps, a flurry of wings, and a leap into the air!

Pride dented, the cat was sprawled back down on the ground. "Never meant to actually catch the dirty things," he seemed to say. "I missed on purpose." An old man shuffled past, giving the cat a sympathetic ruffle on the head.

Celebrating my birthday...Italian style! :)

Usually celebrating your 21st birthday is difficult because of the many high expectations that come along with it. I, however, escaped many of these expectations simply because I've already been allowed to legally drink for three months and HEY! I'm in Italy. =) I am glad to say, however, that my birthday was awesome. It was unique and special, with a large part of that due to my awesome family here in Cortona.

Most people would say that the best part of their 21st birthday was in the evening. Mine, however, started much, much, much earlier than that. Because of finals, many of my friends were in an awkward situation - celebrate my birthday? or finish their art history paper?? Several, however, were able to clear their schedule just for me. =D =D Eddie, my roommate, actually pulled an all-nighter just so that she'd be able to celebrate properly with me - which meant getting up at 5:45 in the morning. But wait, I'm getting ahead of myself. It was in the wee hours of the morning, right before midnight, that the party really began. I was up, finishing my art history paper and writing letters, when some of my friends decided that they needed to usher in my birthday properly. Imagine my surprise when at exactly midnight the crowded common room was plunged into darkness and suddenly everyone was singing happy birthday. I even got a twisted candle that was lit and squeezed into a bottle, along with toast smeared with nutella. Ah, nutella.

After a stolen four hours of sleep, which I hesitate to even mention because Eddie didn't go to bed at all and several other friends pulled two or three all-nighters in a row in an attempt to finish homework, Eddie, Erin, Angela, and I met Enea outside the dorm. We had decided that the only way to perfectly start my birthday was with a breakfast picnic up on top of the mountain, overlooking the sunrise. Eddie was in charge of location, so we followed her a short ways up the road, through a blocked construction area, and up to where the city wall cut through a dewy field. I had some inside knowledge of our destination, so I got to enjoy the looks of complete shock on Angela and Erin's faces when we got to a hole in the wall, slightly larger than a snake's den, and began to climb through. "No really, where're we going?!?" Angela demanded. Eddie and I could barely stop laughing.

The snake hole led into a tunnel (which I believe is one of many old Etruscan caves and tunnels that are scattered throughout the hill), which leads around a corner and to a teeny-tiny doorway. You walk through the doorway and BAM, gorgeous view just waiting for you. We came prepared with a blanket, sandwiches, pastries, and (of course) wine. Because how else do you start off a 21st birthday? Sitting there and sipping wine, I realized that 6am Italia time is actual 12am North Carolina time, so I really was starting out my birthday at the perfect time. Okay...so we ended up sitting on the wrong side of the mountain and we didn't get to see the sun rise, but it too cloudy for that anyway.

Much of the rest of the day was spent preparing for the end-of-semester art show. I got to paint pedestals, move easels, transport artwork, and then finally A NAP. Later, after dinner and a lengthy meeting regarding the shipping of artwork home, Eddie, Erin, and Marsha (roommates) surprised me with a birthday cake. Since I had gotten another candle and round of "happy birthday" at dinner, this was my third "cake" of the day. It was awesome. =D After that, of course, we got all dressed up and went out into town. Which was also a blast. But I'll leave that part to your imagination. ;)




Angela climbing through the hole in the ground...





















Little doorway leading out of the tunnel (it was too dark in the tunnel for me to get a picture)...















...and a gorgeous view. :)

Sagra del tulipano

April 9^th, 2008

Last Sunday I went to my first Tulip Festival, or Sagra del Tulipano as it’s called here. It was the perfect spring day, sunny and warm. Never having gone to a festival solely dedicated to flowers, I wasn’t sure what to expect. I know – it sounds cheesy and boring. Well it wasn’t. It was awesome.

While others had to take first the bus and then a train to get from Cortona to Camuchia (the town below Cortona) and finally to Castiglione del lago (Castle on the Lake – the town about fifteen minutes from Cortona where the festival was being held), Eddie and I merely hopped into Enea’s car and sped off. I tell you, life is so much easier when one has a car at one’s disposal. Despite everything I know you’ve heard about Italian drivers, they really aren’t too bad. Yes, roads are treated more as if both lanes are only one. And any car in front must always be passed. And most roads are so narrow that you hold your breath whenever another car passes in the opposite direction. But beyond that, it’s really not too bad. I think that living with such narrow roads (think: the main turn out of Cortona is so narrow that buses can’t enter the town and all drivers have to make a three point turn to leave) has conditioned drivers so well that for the most part they know how to handle their cars better than Americans.

Tulips, tulips, tulips! They were everywhere. Sprinkled generously on all the city walls, decorating shutters and signposts, and heaped around parked cars – they brightened up everything. There must have been thousands. The town itself is tiny – even smaller than Cortona – and situated on a hill overlooking the lake. From almost any vantage point you can see the shimmering water and the distant mountains, giving the impression of being on an island. The name of the town comes from the remains of a castle found on the very edge of town. The walls and towers remain, as well as one long passageway that leads to a bit of the remaining fortress, now a museum. It was nice being with a local – having grown up in the town, Enea knew a lot of people and got us into the castle for free. It was fun – climbing the narrow towers to get up to the top of the walls where the wind blew our hair into knots. We could see sailboats on the lake and peer over the walls to see the three tulip-covered cars that made up the parade (I repeat: it’s a small town).

After walking through the fortress, which spit us back into town, we walked over to the wine and cheese shop where Enea’s mom works. While waiting for our torta al testri to be made (toasted flat bread with chingali and cheese), Eddie and I got to taste different cheeses, with a running commentary on how old each was and how many years it had been buried under ground. One type of cheese, called formaggio di vino is steeped in wine and has an especially sharp kick to it. We also got to taste different types of chingali, wild boar. This meat is everyyyywhere in Italy and I haven’t been to a town yet whose cheese and meat stores don’t sport a wild boar head next to the door. Sometimes these boar heads even wear a pair of sunglasses. Not sure why, but there you go.

At about two o’clock the festivities kicked up a notch and non-stop parades, marching bands, and Italian folk dancers began to perform all over the city, often interrupting each other. We’d be watching dancers in one piazza when a marching band would come through, completely dispersing the dancers. It was rather funny. A very good example of Italian organization…or lack of it. We ran into a bunch of our classmates and after wandering around together for a bit, made a beeline for the gelatoria. Later Enea, Eddie and I (I feel like my name should start with “E” whenever I hang around those two. Maybe I’ll start going by my middle name, lol) ended up in a small park outside the castle walls and overlooking the lake. It’s an awesome little hide-a-way, made up of old, old olive trees, lots of grass, gravel pathways, and very convenient benches.

Noi abbiamo dormito in un parco.

We took a nap in the park.

It was the perfect ending to a perfect day. =D

Tulipano

un castello

Goofing around with Eddie on top of the castle walls

In recent news...

The mutant caterpillars have been spotted in all their disgusting nastiness. Point of fact, they do indeed travel in long squirming lines. No worries, there have been no casualties thus far and I have survived multiple sighting with no injuries inflicted.

Va bene

Everyone in the creative writing class is making lists right now. Since I don't want to feel left out, here is my list:

Things that make me happy:

1. Gummy Bears - there is no better treat.

2. Owls - they are practically a national symbol in Italy. This has to do with many strange and wonderful things, the result of which is that owls are good luck around here. One is called a gufo and a peck of 'em are called goofi. how can you get any better then that???

3. Time differences really make life interesting. Can you ever say that you've stayed up till 3:30 in the morning waiting to see a basketball game that you wouldn't care about otherwise???

4. Paper. I love buying huge rolls of important looking and yummy smelling paper. Even more than that, I love the importance of walking around town holding this impressive roll of paper. Everyone who sees me wishes that THEY were holding something as impressive and important and it is quite the delightful experience knowing everyone is jealous of the importance that this paper is bringing you.

5. A delicious and incredibly inexpensive lunch. Aka: my panino was most scrumptulicious, even though all it had on it were pomodori, formaggio, olio d'olivia, and aceto (vinegar).

Ahhh...va bene. =D

il mio posto favorito

My favorite spot in the dorm on warm, spring afternoons is my bathroom window sill. Climbing up is a little tricky, but with the window thrown wide open it’s the perfect place to sketch, read, or just people watch. Not falling out of the building is important, of course. The most interesting aspect of window sill sitting is the reaction – or rather, non-reaction - of those passing beneath. It’s surprising how many people never look up. There I am, sitting in plain view about three stories above the road, perfectly able to hear all conversations, and I only receive proper attention from about a third of pedestrians. This number is higher than it should be merely because (in an effort to be noticed) I’ll often swing my legs or move an arm to see how fast that'll catch their eye. It’s rather pleasing to note the looks of surprise on their faces, which are then replaced by curiosity. The braver (usually American) tourists will even engage me in conversation.

“Are you a student here?” they’ll holler. When I answer with the affirmative, they'll proceed to ask a couple of question or comment on how beautiful the day is (which is why I’m perched halfway out the building in the first place). Finally, they'll always conclude with a caution not to fall. Silly Americans...the only ones who actually worry about falling out of windows. Italians are intelligent enough to realize that danger is the spice of life, which is why all public monuments and buildings have high windows with no kind of safety netting or screening. I LOVE IT. =D

It's interesting to note how many people have managed to notice the prominent sign on the school (different building than the dorm and about fifty feet or so farther down the hill) indicating that this is University of Georgia Study Abroad property. There are many tourists who have wrongly deduced that this is either a hotel or a hostel and some even try getting rooms here. I’m sorry, but I’m not willing to share my beautiful castle with you. Please leave.

Finally, the best part of window sill sitting, of course, is the lopsided but completely cool tan which one acquires.

WARNING: mutant caterpillars on the loose!!!

The best April Fools’ Day joke is one that isn’t a joke. I give you, most seriously, the announcement that Chris gave us at dinner that night. I repeat, this is NOT a joke:

Chris: “Cortona has unfortunately been hit by a bad infestation…of caterpillars.”

[Announcement is paused while everyone in the room erupts into hysterical laughter]

Chris [trying to ignore laughter]: “These caterpillars, while looking like your normal variety of wooly-woolies, are dangerous and should be avoided at all costs.”

[More laughter – we try not to fall off our chairs]

Chris: “I’m serious! [trying vainly to impress upon us the gravity of the situation] These caterpillars will shoot their spikes into your skin. This hurts and gives you a bad rash. It's not fun.”

[Still no success in getting us to stop laughing]

Chris: [valiantly persevering] “If you were student teaching in the elementary school this morning, then you saw the teachers freak out and set the caterpillars on fire.”

[?!?!?!? A ripple of shock and then we’re gone once again, laughing our heads off. This time the entire teachers’ table is laughing just as hard as us, including Chris.]

Chris: “Seriously though, if you see them, do NOT go near them! If you’re wearing flip-flops, don’t even step on them! Their spikes can go through your shoes. And another warning…they travel in colonies. So if you see them, they’ll be in a long line.”

[A long line???]

Chris: "Oh yeah...and don't go in the gardens next to Severini...they live in the trees and can drop down on your necks. It would be painful."

[Definitely the best April Fools’ Day announcement. Ever.]

….five minutes later….

Spencer (creative writing teacher): “…oh yeah! And once you skin them,” [he raises his fork up with the dinner meat on it] …they taste pretty good!”

[Everyone groans]

Assisi

Since I was requested to describe Assisi, I'm going to delve back into that fathomless abyss also known as my mind and attempt to retrieve the memories of roughly three weeks ago. Saturday trips have become the highlight of my week. While it can sometimes be a nuisance to have your entire Saturday swallowed up by a required field trip, at the same time it's incredibly relaxing. You're handed a schedule, driven around in private buses, and dropped off in an Italian town. There you are mostly free to wander as you like.

The drive to Assisi took about two and a half hours, landing us in Assisi at about 10:30. Two hours is the perfect driving time, we students have agreed, because it gives us the ideal early morning nap. The drive was, as usual, beautiful. Everything had just started turning green and had the expectant air of Easter. I'm not sure if Assisi is actually the most medieval town we've been in, or if I was influenced by thoughts of St. Francis returning from the Crusades. Regardless, the town is located on top of a mountain and gives the impression of being able to hold up against a siege. The streets of Assisi are tinier than ever and crammed with touristy shops and homes built one on top of the other. I kept remembering that Drew said that Assisi was his favorite town, which struck me as odd because it was nothing like what I expected. I guess I was thinking that it would be very plain and austere…more of a Franciscan poverty sort of place? But ha, no...not at all. It definitely reminded me of a bustling little medieval metropolis.

All streets in Assisi seem to lead to the Basilica. It's giant. How big? Big enough for the building to house not one church but two. The entrance to the lower church is at the end of a brilliantly white courtyard flanked by continuous colonnades on three sides. Here we paused while Sarah gave us a brief recap on what to look for inside. It's hard to pay attention to mundane things such as identifications of frescos and the gradual discoloration of certain paint pigments when you’re standing in front of this giant white beast, practically oozing history out of its many doors, windows, and towers. Note of interest: this church is the third most visited Christian pilgrimage site. The second is a church in Spain, but I can't remember the first. Rome?

Inside the lower church, you're immediately bombarded with details...frescos everywhere! Chapels pressing in on you from every side! Crosses! Altarpieces! Stairs! Stained glass! Where to look?!? If I used one word to describe this lower church it would be frescos. I don't think you understand what I mean...like, they're EVERYWHERE. There is not one square inch of walls or ceilings that aren't covered in decoration. And every other one is so famous that I've stared at it for hours in art history or written about it. I made myself take the church on in a very logical and precise way, starting at one end and systematically walking through chapels until I made a full circle. Then I let myself go down into the crypt, which was drawing me with the utter simplicity of its sunken staircase.

The first turn I took led me to a museum of sorts. In it was every kind of St. Francis paraphernalia. His clothes, his sandals, letters with his signature...everything you could think of. It gives one a really weird feeling, bringing home the fact that Francis was actually a real person. Then, wandering farther, I found the chapel with his remains. The coffin was sealed and placed high into a glass covered vault, but countless pilgrims had stuck photos of loved ones into the back. To get from the bottom church to the upper church you have to climb some stairs behind the main altar (which is a very open altar surrounded by free space, so not quite as mysterious as it sounds). This spits you out into a small courtyard where you have the option of spending way too much money on rosaries in the gift shop (a 1000 euro rosary...whaaaat?) or continuing to climb another set of stairs into the upper church.

The upper church was far less interesting. Basically just a lot of frescos narrating St. Francis’ life and a blue ceiling (turning green, hehe!) with the traditional gold star motif (aka: what you did if you couldn't afford Michelangelo!). After I wandered away from the church, I really only had one hour to explore a bit of the town, which was sad because its supposed to have a lot of neat stuff in it. Meandering the streets leading back to the bus with friends and ducking into small shops was about all I had time for, however. Definitely a disappointment.

Overall impression? Cute, but touristy.

That plague better known as Tourists

With warmer weather comes an unavoidable nuisance: the tourist. Anyone who has ever traveled outside his city limits has been one, yet citizens unite in hating the tourist. Pushing his way through crowded streets, a guidebook plastered permanently to one hand and a camera in the another, speaking the few Italian words he knows loudly (because everyone knows that it doesn't matter if someone can't understand you - just speak louder and of course they'll get the point!), and crowding the gelato shop... Okay, so I realize that I fit this description perfectly, but after living in Cortona for a month and a half we UGA students feel like natives already.

We can give directions perfectly while trying not to smirk at the random tourist's obvious relief in our ability to speak English. We know that the Lion's Well is the place to be at night, but if you want to get drunk than of course you go to Tuschers first because drinks are cheaper there. We've hung out with the Canadians and know that the French have invaded the local hostel. We've convinced John Luca, the bartender at the Lion's Well to dye our beers green for St. Patrick's day, even though Italians have no clue who St. Patrick is. We know that Route 66 isn't an interstate, but a place to hang out. Especially if you want to smell like smoke until you can afford another wash machine token. And we know that the most important thing to notice at the dinner table in Toninos is whether or not there's a third (dessert!) fork in front of your plate.

I think what irritates me the most about tourists is how each one seems to think that they have some undeniable right to peer at whatever I happen to be working on. They have it down to a science: first comes the sighting, where they'll suddenly notice me sitting on a city wall or in a corner of the piazza. Next, the recognition: she has a sketchbook and a pencil - she must be an artist! Now at this point you've got the annoying people and the extra annoying people. The annoying people will march right up to you and, speaking very loudly in English with wide hand gestures thrown in just in case you still don't understand, ask if they can see what you're working on. The extra annoying people try to be a little bit more subtle: glancing at you repeatedly, they'll sidle up to you on the pretense of admiring the view. Then they'll precede to stare over you shoulder blatantly until an intense glare sends them scurrying for safety. At this point there's a predictable conclusion in which they'll make some bland comment on how it's "nice, very nice" before sauntering away. This is particularly amusing when all I have down on paper are a couple of vague lines.

Italians, mind you, have never accosting me in this way. Artists are a dime a dozen in Italy and are therefore given about the same level of attention by Italians as the hundreds of mangy cats that roam the cities.

Food for my Cupboard

March 12, 2008

Today I finally caved in and went grocery shopping. Picking up groceries in Italy is a very different experience than in the states, where you hop into your heated or air-conditioned SUV and zoom down the highway doing sixty or so to your nearest Ingles, Publix, or Super Walmart. My grocery run started out with a brisk walk down the hill. It only takes a couple of minutes to walk from Kehoe (the dorm) to town, though the walk back up takes at least ten minutes of very steep climbing.

Since I knew that I wanted to buy bread, I took the shortcut to town (so called because though it isn’t actually a shorter walk, it’s considerably less steep. This obviously doesn’t make a difference going down, but it does going up - hence the name). Unlike the main road from school that goes directly downhill along the edge of town and overlooking the city walls, the shortcut veers off to the right, cutting through the upper part of Cortona where it ultimately spits you out just outside the edge of Piazza Signorelli and, most conveniently, my favorite bakery.

The bakery is run by a youngish woman who understands enough English to make transactions easy. When it’s not too crowded, I’ll attempt to tell her what I want in Italian, otherwise I’ll just say “Io prendo” (I’ll have) and point. The store is tiny with cookies, pastries, and sandwiches behind glass in the front and different types of bread stored in baskets behind the counter. In the morning it’s hectic, with people cramming in to make their purchases, dropping coins on the counter at the same time as they’re rapidly ordering in Italian. Old ladies crowd to the counter, exchanging pleasantries with the owner and smirking at my obvious incomprehension of the surrounding conversations. Small dogs are brought in with their owners while large dogs, German Shepherds being the dog of choice, are left standing outside. Most bread in Italy is extremely hard, but I’ve found one type that’s deliciously soft and moist, which is what I usually buy. Important note: never buy more than two days’ worth of bread at a time, because if you keep it any longer than that it’ll get too hard to eat (aka: no preservatives). I learned this lesson the hard way, of course. Out the door – pull going out, don’t push! I’ll never adjust to this random oddity – and on to the fresh market.

The fresh market is held in a garage type space off of Piazza Signorelli every morning. Here you can find a wide array of vegetables and fruits for a relatively cheap price (I paid about 1,80 euro for two oranges, four tomatoes, and a lemon). A friendly woman runs this store as well, always calling out “ciao” when I enter or leave and smiling at my attempts to speak Italian. Unlike American grocery stores, Italians generally don’t appreciate customers handling the produce, so once again I merely point and call out what I want.

My last stop was Molesini’s, the teeniest grocery store I’ve ever been in that consists basically of a narrow path between crowded shelves. Since dinner on weekdays is provided for students, I really don’t buy much: fresh cheese and meat for sandwiches, some pasta and pesto or tomato sauce for a weekend meal, some cookies to keep in my room (if you try keeping that in the kitchen, it’ll mysteriously disappear), and some juice. If you ask nicely at the counter, the owner will even give you a bright red, cloth bag with the store logo on it for your groceries.

Shopping complete, all that is left to do is to make my way back up the hill. The bottom’s not too bad, but by the top your hands are aching and your calves burning. This requires a minimum five minute break next to the city wall to put down your bags and gulp in some fresh air under the guise of enjoying the view. If someone else happens to come along, of course, you pretend to be in top physical condition and boldly stride up the hill, loudly proclaiming that walking faster makes the climb go by quicker. =D

Italian Randomness

March 10, 2008

Some more random Italian facts that I have slowly learned and or experienced - I find them rather entertaining, which is why I’m putting them in here:

- Even churches close down for Siesta. Want God? Too bad, come back later. ;-)

- It’s the law in Italy that all stores and restaurants have to choose one night to be closed. In Cortona, most of them choose to be closed on Tuesday night. For future reference, this is NOT a good night to plan on spending out on the town.

- Ever wondered why Italians eat bread with their meal, yet they don’t give you plates for your bread? (at least, they don’t in Italy. Don’t judge by Italian American restaurants, please) This tradition (according to Marco) comes from the idea of family, community, and sharing one’s meal. It’s considered unfriendly for everyone to have their own plate – breaking bread together keeps everyone mingling and sharing, as does the dipping of one’s bread into a communal plate of olive oil. Kind of cool, I thought.

- Continuing with meals, I had the funniest discussion the other day with Enea, an Italian friend of mine (technically, he’s Albanian, but seeing as he’s lived here since he was really little I’ll consider him Italian for all intents and purposes). When asked why a meal is served in courses (aka: I miss eating my pasta and meat at the same time. A slab of meat on the plate all by its very own lonesome self just looks so funny!), he nearly broke his side laughing then demanded to know why Americans insist on cramming everything in their mouth together. He insisted that when you eat your pasta, meat, and veggies all together then you lose all taste. An interesting thought…

- And most importantly, cars in Italy don’t go “vroom vroom” but “broom broom” and you don’t attract cats by clucking your tongue or saying, “Here kitty, kitty,” but by saying “mici (mee-chee), mici.” =p So now I make sure to address all Italian cats with the proper phraseology. I’m sure they appreciate it.

Rambling

Today I went for a long walk. Originally the plan was to finish up the final sketches for my drawing midterm, but somehow that didn't work out. So instead I just wandered. One reason I love Cortona so much is because you never seem to run out of interesting twists, turns, side roads, or surprises. No matter how many times you walk around town, there's always more details to notice, more cool places to explore. For example: I walked up and down the steep hill leading up to school more than a dozen times before I managed to notice a giant...not small, not large, but giant...mural on the side of a church. It's not that I'm blind or completely unobservant (although that's not entirely out of the question), but there's just so much else to look at...not to mention a terrific view. I was perched on the city wall today and saw a random house with the most detailed fresco in the eaves of the roof. You'd never see that in the states. Ever.

Doors are something else that I have fallen in love with here. You have all kinds: shorts doors that not even I could go through without stooping, huge doors that Drew x 2 could walk through, doors that are so old that the bottoms are warped and the paint is all bubbled and cracked in the most interesting ways, and doors that have fabulous metalwork all over them. You have doors that lead down, doors at the top of staircases, turns set into buildings, and doors that don't seem to lead anywhere. And that's not even getting to the knockers. You have knockers designed to look like pharaohs' heads (especially popular here - not sure why), demons, faces, and hands. And the handles! I could go on all day describing them, but I'll spare you.

Then there's the architecture itself - I feel like a little kid at a playground. There are arches, buttresses, giant cathedrals, covered walkways between buildings, tiny churches, bell towers, domes, alcoves, crumbling steps, hidden walled gardens, the tiniest and narrowest streets you can imagine and big broad streets that lead to the city walls. Everywhere you turn you find something unique. The company is not bad either - young Italians couples strolling with their children, old grandma's scolding children in loud Italian, friendly shopkeepers, loud students, Canadian backpackers from the hostel, tourists in for the day, an inquisitive chicken wandering the street, and a snobby tomcat basking in the middle of the piazza.

Surprise!

Dude, if you had told me yesterday that it would snow, I would never have believed you. Cortona is AMAZING. And also the weirdest place. EVER. Yesterday, we had the windows open – it was warm and beautiful. This morning it was slightly chilly, enough for me to put on a light jacket over my t-shirt, but still warm enough for me to laugh hysterically when someone mentioned that it might snow in a couple of days. An hour later, it was snowing. Big fluffy snowflakes were falling so fast that it made the bright blue sky look crazy weird. Snow was blowing over the roof and making a hilariously odd contrast with the forty-something degree weather. Nothing was sticking, of course, but still…snow! We stood on the porch with the door open, completely baffled by this strange white stuff that was coming down. Now, a couple of hours later, it’s rather cold outside and the wind is whistling dangerously and shaking all the doors and windows. It’s supposed to rain for the next couple of days, but I’m hoping that by Sunday it’ll be t-shirt and tanning weather again. Weird.

Arezzo: a shopper's paradise

March 2, 2008

Yesterday’s Saturday trip was very different from any so far. Instead of an old walled city with lots of museums and churches, we went to Arezzo, a far more modern city not far from Cortona. The only historically significant sights I saw all day were two churches – one that had a huuuge fresco in it by some famous person or other, and the other which was just an incredibly gorgeous Cathedral with impressively tall vaulted ceilings and a gilded altarpiece. The rest of the day we spent doing *what else* shopping, of course. There was a huge antique market spread out over the entire city that we browsed as we wandered. You could find anything there: clothes, books, jewelry, old keys, furniture, bits and pieces of statues, ornate chandeliers, beat-up WWII helmets, designer purses, and even an entire bowl of dolls’ eyeballs. A friend of mine actually bought a hundred-year-old engagement ring there for his fiancée. Lest this market sounds too good to be true let me assure you that the majority of these items were overpriced. While bargaining is a necessary tool in places like that, I’m sure that many of the vendors automatically jacked up their prices for us “stupid Americans.”

Besides the antique market, there was also an entire street full of Italian designer clothing stores, many of which were having huge sales to get rid of their winter leftovers. You can guess where the majority of us girls were all day. Since most of us felt that we hadn't brought nearly enough clothes with us (only enough to completely dress a small country), there was a frenzied amount of shopping going on. Besides, there really is no better feeling than the euphoria of buying insanely expensive Italian clothes after they’ve been marked down to almost nothing. =)

The biggest pain about taking an entire day to wander an Italian city is siesta. Other than coffee shops and the antique market, from one to four-thirty everything else was closed. Most of us took this time to take a break, find a coffee shop, and just relax. Then, once the stores reopened, we hit the streets for our final hour in town. Gelato, my new favorite food group, was also a necessary purchase of the day, eaten while rambling back to meet the buses and discussing Zak’s choice of an engagement ring.

All in all, it was a splendid day. A nice reprieve from seeing city after city of old, older, and olderest monuments. Not that I don't love old monuments, of course! =D

La Dolce Vita

I’m finally starting to feel like I’m in school. With an art history paper just handed in, an Italian quiz tomorrow, and book arts homework slowly piling up to my ears, it actually feels like I’m doing some serious work here! =p You would know what I mean if you heard the kinds of announcements we have at dinner - itineraries of towns we visit on Saturdays, a notice looking for hair models for a salon in town (a free dye ‘n cut job!), a casting for a famous Italian rapper’s music video (apparently he’s gonna come to the school to find ten “interesting” faces), and on and on. Haven’t you heard? We’re not in school, we’re just here living the good life. La dolce vita! This is especially true of one class that my roommate is in – instead of meeting at the regular class time last week, they met at a wine tasting and got drunk together while discussing their readings! Now this is the way to go to school, but I digress.

I spent a couple of hours today working on my book arts homework. During class we always have demonstrations on how to make certain kinds of books, so I had to have some amount of prep work done for that. I should have made two accordion books for Thursday, but I ended up procrastinating some more. I’ll do it tomorrow.

I’ve been sitting around in the common room for the past couple of hours -basically since coming back from the studio at about five. I haven’t done anything productive (right, right, Drew. I hear you – when do I ever?). Jacob left his guitar in the common room and I’ve gone back and forth between playing around on it, bothering people (have you ever heard my lovely rendition of Home on the Range?), and learning how to play Classical Gas from Thomas. And I got soundly defeated in checkers (AGAIN) by Henry. Today is just one of those Sundays that’s very relaxed – a lot of people went to Florence for the weekend, so it’s been pretty empty around here. People have been wandering in and out and a lot of hidden musical talent has surfaced. Both Thomas and Steve are awesome guitarists, and Suzanna has a really nice singing voice plus a million hippy songs up her sleeve.

I’m trying to avoid thinking about dinner because I have no groceries left downstairs…again. And someone totally ate my cheese. I’m very upset about that. Maybe I’ll just eat Nutella. Mmmmmm….

Under the Tuscan Sun

I took a looong walk today and found the house of the author of Under a Tuscan Sun. Let’s just say it looks nothing like the house in the movie. Thank you, Hollywood.

Oh, Margarita.

This past Friday was the feast day of Santa Margarita of Cortona. Never heard of her? Me either, but just imagine St. Patrick’s day meets the Fourth of July and you might have an idea of what it felt like. Since Rebecca, my drawing teacher, had to sing in the choir at the same time our class was to meet, that meant a holiday for all of us. The festivities started early, with what looked like an entire carnival gathered in front of Santa Margarita’s, a church on the top of the hill and only a couple minutes of almost vertical walking from the Kehoe. If you’re wondering why that church (besides the obvious reason that it’s named after S. Margarita), then let me clue you in: this fourteenth century saint’s mummified body also happens to be on the altar. A little weird in my mind and definitely not the way I’d want my body displayed after my death. I mean, okay…I’ve seen tons and tons of saints by now whose bodies were preserved in this unreal-looking, waxy-doll type of way, but this is the first mummy saint I’ve seen. And why on the main altar, does anyone know? Anyway, moving on.

On Santa Margarita’s feast day everyone comes out to celebrate. Please note: Americans celebrate saint feast days by wearing certain colors and having parades. Italians celebrate by bringing the party to church. The entire town walks up the hill where there’s Mass continually throughout the day. Right outside the church doors are every kind of vendor. You can buy food, toys, balloons…it’s literally a carnival. People mingle outside and inside the church, processing through the main altar to pay their respects to S. Margarita and there’s the constant sound of coins dropping in the votive candle slots. Since Mom happens to share her birthday with S. Margarita I decided to light one, too.

The Procession inside the church was like nothing I’ve ever experienced. First came the drummers…yes, drummers. As in about half a dozen boys dressed in medieval garb and making the entire church echo and pulse with drumbeats, followed closely by a nice dose of incense. Then came about a dozen priests and the bishop of the diocese. It was definitely the coolest procession I've ever seen. Just the way to celebrate a feast day. Can you rent drummer boys for weddings I wonder?

The ballet...American style

It's midnight and I just got back from seeing a ballet in the local teatro, the oldest and coolest theater I've ever been to. A whole bunch of us went to see a tribute to Fred Astaire, meaning lots of Italians dancing to American music. It was quite entertaining. While I was more dressed up than I have been since I left the states (thanks to my roommates who lent me most of the clothes that I wore), I still felt underdressed just because our surroundings were so...how can I say it? FREAKIN AWESOME. =D

Okay...imagine...an old theater with four stories of private balconies, red velvet chairs and curtains, and ooold wooden floors that look like they've been around for ions and ions and ions. My roommates and I got to sit in our own third story balcony (#9), that had its own door to close off for privacy and coat hangers for our coats. =p I felt like I needed a pair of binoculars and a fan, just to feel all stylish and be able to giggle behind as I flirted with handsome men in other balconies (JUST KIDDING, actually, the only guys there were above us!).

The show was really neat - a lot of impressive dancing and flashy costumes. I'll admit...it was rather strange to be sitting in an old theater in Italy and listening to "It's a Grand Old Flag" - almost as weird as watching fireworks over the Eiffel tower on Bastille Day and listening to Mary Poppins music, the Harry Potter soundtrack, and American patriotic songs (yes, believe it or not, that happened when I was in Paris). But it was fun. And going home afterwards, we all danced up the hill. =D

Italian Lessons

February 19^th, 2008

Here’s what I’ve learned so far while in Italy:

- Italian guys are not that hot. It’s all a big myth. (sorry Rich, hehe)


- The yummy wood fire smoke smell doesn’t come from houses being heated (for the most part), but from the restaurants in town. Any self-respecting Italian restaurant offers only wood-fired pizza. It’s true.

- The Italian language was chosen as the prominent language of this area because of its beauty. Someone, I can’t remember who, listened to all the different dialects and languages that were being spoken in all the independent city-states and decided that Italian was the most beautiful, and therefore would be the official written language. Isn’t that cool?

- Italians know how to drive backwards just as fast as forwards. Most of the turns around here are too narrow for a car to make it, so they have to back up once or twice in order to make it. It’s kinda funny to watch.

- There are too many cats in the world. Especially in Italy.

- Midday siestas should be adopted in the states. Life becomes so much slower paced and more relaxed because of it.

- American music is overrated. Why does every country insist on blasting it constantly???

- - Watching someone scream in Italian at an ATM machine is hilarious, I don’t care who you are.

- - soccer is brutal, but so much more fun to watch than football.

- I think everyone should take walks at night – it’s such a friendly and communal thing to do.

Volterra

February 16, 2008

Yesterday was our Saturday trip to Volterra, a small town that’s directly west of Cortona but not quite on the coast (boohoo). It’s known for having the oldest archway in Italy (which Hitler was planning on blowing up, but then just decided to completely block it off), a large quantity of alabaster (which you can buy in every shape and form known to mankind, including alabaster fruit that looks real), a semi-in-ruins Roman theater, and a Etruscan museum. We left Cortona at 7:30 am…a little early, in my estimation. The trip was two and a half hours, though, so we all got to nap on the bus. The town was pretty cool looking - very medieval with a lot of stone walls and arches. The weather, though, was FREEZING. It didn’t begin to warm up until about three o’clock, when it started getting tolerable if you stood in the sun. Until then it was pretty miserable, even with tons of layers, a hat, and gloves. During the morning we visited two different museums – the Museo de Guarnacci and the Museo de Civico. The Museo de Guarnacci was a museum of Etruscan art - meaning tons and tons and TON of sarcophagus...or would that be sarcophagi? and ceramics. I could envision Gintaras ripping out his hair from sheer boredom. I thought it was interesting, though. I mean, most of this stuff has been around since before Christ…how can that not be cool to see? There were a lot of marble slabs with Latin carved into them and neat designs. The Museo de Civico had a lot of religious paintings…oh wait, hehe…MOST Renaissance artwork is religious. =p And I learned something really interesting… you know when you see a painting where the Madonna or the Christ is this sickly shade of green? Well, I guess I never really thought about it, but they’re not SUPPOSED to be that color. Apparently the top layer of paint has come off, so that’s what they look like now. Okay, I thought that was interesting.

After visiting the museums, we all wandered off to explore the town on our own. It was interesting, but not as interesting as it would have been if it were nice and warm. We tried to spend as much time as possible indoors, eating or stopping for coffee and tea. And I’ve officially learned my lesson about randomly choosing foods: I don’t know what kind of sandwich I ordered, but I swear I’m gonna learn the Italian word for anchovies. Because I am totally not that picky of an eater but they are truly disgusting. No matter what country you’re in.

Classes 'n teachers

Ciao!
Obviously I haven’t written in a while and it’s because not only have classes started, but the internet connection here at the Kehoe Center (the dorm) has been up and down, with an emphasis on down. Anyway, I thought that I would describe the classes I’m taking and all the teachers who are a part of the UGA Cortona program.

My first class during the week is Book Arts and Paper making, which focuses mostly on making books using different types of book binding. We’ll be making paper as well during the semester, although the class doesn’t focus on it. My teacher’s name is Sarah (yes, another Sarah - to distinguish her we students like to call her Bookarts Sarah) and she’s incredibly enthusiastic in this overcharged with caffeine but completely hilarious and fun type of way – which is a good thing, ESPECIALLY at eight o’clock in the morning! She’s probably somewhere in her mid to late twenties and in the process of finishing up her Masters degree. So far this class is a lot of fun, although it feels very much like I’m five years old again and playing with paper. We spent the entire first class learning different ways to fold paper to make what Sarah called “down and dirty bookmaking,” or in other words the simplest book forms possible. Then we decorated these books with collages.

My other studio class is Advanced Drawing. All three drawing classes – beginning, intermediate, and advanced – are held together, which means that advanced students have an independent study with the teacher. So while the other students draw in the classroom from models, etc, we have the option of working on our own, which means that I don’t actually have to go to class. *yay* It sounds like we’ll have to pump out a fair amount of work, but nothing unreasonable. We can work on whatever we want (although most of us want to incorporate an element of Italian culture in our work) and just have to check in with the teacher before and after the class meeting time. The teacher, Rebecca, is a former student of the Cortona program (which has been in existence for almost forty years now). While studying here she fell in love with an Italian and now lives here in Cortona with her husband and two daughters (no worries, Mom, haven’t met anyone yet…mwahaha!). She’s a good person to go to for any questions about Italy (with her unique perspective that comes from being an American married to an Italian) and speaks Italian like a local.

The other expert on Italy is Marco, our Italian teacher. He’s probably in his late twenties or early thirties and has the dark Italian looks going for him, which means that most of the female students are in love with him, lol. =) He speaks English fluently, but with a very thick accent, and has the very-Italian habit of speaking with his hands. That can be kinda funny when he’s got chalkboard dust all over his fingers and, without realizing it, gets chalk all over his usually very clean and stylish clothes. We bump into him in all the local hangouts and bars and apparently he’s a pretty good soccer player, too (according to everyone who got together to play soccer on Sunday). During class Marco only speaks Italian, although sometimes he’ll throw in some English when he sees that we’re all totally and completely lost. So far I feel like I’ve had a lot thrown at me and I haven’t necessarily remembered most of it. But then again, I’m a very visual person and I think I need to spend some time every day just working on my Italian vocabulary with a nice thick stack of flash cards. =D

Art History is taught by Sarah K., whom I think I already described earlier. She’s really nice, though she has a habit of using a lot of “ums” during her lecture (each of which I am most painfully aware of, thank you Toastmasters!). I think that this might be one of her first experiences teaching, which would explain some of the reasons that people don’t enjoy her two hour, yes two hour, art history lecture. She’s got that idealism that new teachers have. I’m sure you know what I mean, right? It’s when a teacher is so sure that she can make everyone understand everything, so she goes so deeply into every random subject that she loses everyone completely. And when a teacher gives out tons and tons of readings (goes so far, in fact, as to print out tons and tons and tons of copies so that everyone can have their own copy), but doesn’t have any kinds of tests or even real discussions about the readings, that's being way to confident that people will actually read them. I’m sure that in about five or so years she’ll be a fabulous teacher, she just needs experience. She definitely knows her subject incredibly well and can be very interesting.

Another teacher who’s fairly important is Chris, the second-in-command here and the ceramics teacher. He’s the teacher that I have to help for a certain amount of hours every week because I’m a stipend student. He’s kinda funny…like he always seems really quiet and a little sad, but then every once and a while this great sense of humor pops out. He’s about thirty or so, and…actually, I don’t really know too much more about him. One of the first nights I was here I listened with great amusement to my roommates speculate about him and his life. The director of the program is Rick, who’s about in his sixties or so. He’s hilarious and has been working for this program for about thirty years or so, I believe. He knows a ton about Italy and makes tours very interesting with all of his personal comments and advice. He doesn’t stay in Italy year round – he only gets to come up for the beginning and end of each semester. The rest of the time he spends in Georgia doing the nitty-gritty part of running the program and raising money for it.

There are a couple of other teachers in the program: Spencer is a younger guy, about mid-twenties, with the funniest handlebar mustache. He runs the pod-casting and creative writing class and the main love of his life is his video camera, which I think is permanently connected to his hand. He's really into sixties looking clothes (think: BRIGHT orangey/red sweater) and he's got this hilarious but weird sense of humor. Then there are two older guys (meaning in their sixties), Richard who teaches art ed, and Jim, who teaches metals and jewelry making. Laurie is the photo teacher, and I don’t know much about her, except she’s pretty quiet and also still finishing up her masters. And I think that covers just about everyone, except for Jacob who gets that funny position of not-student/not-teacher/and RA. So all combined, that makes what? Eleven people? Add a wife or two, and you’ve got the number of faculty who’re here. They all live somewhere in town, or fairly close by, and most of them come on all the trips with us.

Cortona

February 9th, 2008

Dusk is settling in and I’ve got my window thrown wide open. It’s a little nippy outside, but still warm enough in my room with the heat going to keep the window open for just a little bit longer. I can smell the wood burning fires that most Cortoneans use to heat up their homes and I’m listening to a dozen different bells toll. I’ve heard that the day you don’t notice the bells ring is when you know that you’ve been in Cortona for a long time. This is Cortona – a tiny little town, much too small according to a guy named Mario whom I met today while wandering the streets. It sits on the very top of a mountain, surrounded by old city walls and overlooking a breathtaking view of valleys and very distant mountains. The first night we got here the wind was so strong that it felt like I’d be completely swept away and falling asleep I could easily imagine myself in a remote castle a couple hundred years ago. I’m not too far off – the dorm that we students stay in is a fourteenth century renovated monastery. It’s made up of lots of echoing hallways, stone steps, and tall ceilings. The first rules we were given when we arrived were to try not to slam doors (you slam a door in the art history lecture hall in the bottom of the building and you can hear the echo from the very top corner), don’t walk loudly with boots (same reason), don’t decorate our bedroom walls or put anything up on them (the plaster is so old that it will come off in sheets), don’t waste electricity or water (obviously things are more expensive here…and before you can say it, I can’t control the heat! Yes, my window is open with the heat running, but I just can’t resist! It’s so beautiful outside!), and not to adopt the cats. Yes, cats. Everywhere you walk around Cortona you see cats known as gatto stradas, or street cats. They’re all well-fed by everyone in town and look more like aristocrats versus beggars. The teachers made a point of informing us that they are not, however, allowed inside school buildings, as they tend to leave messes and walk through art projects.

The road up to the school is designed for losing weight: either you have to truck up and down the almost vertical and cobblestoned hill, or you skip dinner at night and fast instead. Students eat dinner every night except for Saturdays and Sundays at Toninos (Little Tony’s), a large local restaurant that the school has an ongoing arrangement with. This plan was designed so that students wouldn’t hole themselves up at the school, which can act as a fortress. The town itself, although small, has so many tiny cobblestoned streets and old buildings that are built one on top of the other that I’ve actually gotten lost a couple of times already. Lost meaning, I wasn’t sure where I was heading, but knowing I was still somewhere inside Cortona. The city walls have a nice way of allowing you to wander as much as you want without actually having gone very far at all. Keeping track of whether you’re going steeply uphill or downhill also lets you know whether you’re near the school (which is located at the very top of the town) or near the main piazza (near the bottom of the town). Every other building is a chiesa (church) and the last count was something like seventeen churches and only two bars, mind you! Cortona actually houses the seat of the diocese at the duomo (cathedral), which is right off the main piazza.

Every Saturday there’s an open market in Piazza Signorelli, one of the two main piazzas that are right next to each other in the center of town. There are all kinds of vendors selling clothes, jewelry, and of course, food. We students loaded up on the fresh fruit and vegetables in order to make our own meals back at the school. The way that the school is run is somewhere between hotel and hostel. There is a group of women that the teachers call “the ladies” or “the angels” who clean the school, mop floors, make our beds (!), arrange breakfast (consisting mostly of buffet style cereal, bread, and yogurt), and wash the breakfast dishes. Lunch and meals on weekends, however, is our job and there is a separate kitchen just for us where we can store our food and prepare meals. We also have the pricier option of going out to eat. All the classrooms except for the art history lecture hall are located in the school next door. That building is only fifty or so years old and like the dorm, kept locked at all times, accessible only with a combination or a key (a necessary, post-9/11 U.S. mandated law). Like the dorm, though, its rooms seem to have this habit of spilling one into another, connected by lots of small staircases and doors. Surrounding both the school and the dorm are various gardens and paths. Above it are four separate terraces (meaning plots of land that are cut into the hillside), which supposedly have hidden caves (which have unearthed different Etruscan archeological finds and so are for the most part closed off to students) and a cistern or two. The road that leads up to the school continues on around it and winds through some woods and up to a large chiesa. There are Stations of the Cross along this road with exquisite mosaics inside the small structures.

In the evening, Italians have this custom of strolling the streets together. Rick, the director of the program, told us that this is because most Italian homes don’t have a living room, so the only way they can all see and visit with each other is by taking long walks before dinner. You’ll see couples and families out walking and talking, and sitting up in my room I can hear snatches of Italian as they pass by my window. Another Italian habit is to stop walking when a conversation begins, so it is considered very rude to continue walking. After dinner, at about ten o’clock, is when the younger crowd comes out. Last night I went to a jazz concert at a bar in town and everyone and his uncle was out. You don’t know how strange it is to be in a bar and see your professor there, too! Certain shops were still open at midnight with their shop owners socializing out front, and everyone is wide awake and having a good time. The hardest part of the night is climbing back up the hill, with the cold wind blowing and the dark cobblestone ready to trip you. While you might start out the climb feeling tired and cold, by the time you reach the school your heart’s pumping fast and you’re ready to strip your jacket off. I’ve heard that it rains here a lot, but so far the weather has been beautiful, if not usually cold. During the night you bundle up in jacket, hat, scarf, and gloves, but during the day a light jacket and scarf is fine.

Rooming is really spacious, much more so than in the summer when the program doubles in number. I’m sharing a large room with two other girls (Sara and Jamie), and we have two extra beds in here. The room adjacent to ours is connected through a short passageway, and a large bathroom is located in between the two rooms. Actually, the bathroom is being renovated, so until next week we get to truck over to another hall, where there are several bathrooms we can use. We have a common room with computers and sofas and lots of bookshelves, and that’s where most people hang out at night if they’re not out in town. Classes start tomorrow at eight o’clock in the morning and most of us are just relaxing tonight. I’m enjoying not having many responsibilities, but I also can’t wait to start classes!

Vatican & Firenze

Febuary 7, 2008

I’ve totally skipped writing these entries for the past couple of days, which is bad because now I can’t remember what I’ve done! I also haven’t had steady internet access, so be warned: this is an extremely long post! Let’s see….on the fifth (Tuesday) our group left Rome, stopped in this little town Vitervo (prounounced: Vee-tear-voh) for a couple of hours, then got to Florence (or as it’s called here, Firenze). Vitero seemed like a very random spot to stop – it’s this really tiny little town that’s cute, but doesn’t have that much in it. A couple of museums, which some people went to see, but I decided to just walk around the town. We’ve been to so many museums lately, that it’s good to take a day off and just not do too much of anything. Soak in the culture, as it were. It’s kinda funny, because I ended walking around town with the non-artsy people – basically, the lit. majors and one or two film production majors (or something like that – not that they’re not artsy, but they’re not STUDIO art majors, hehe). We walked, talked, ducked into some random clothing stores, checked out a couple of churches (this really neat one that was built of stone, had a wooden roof, a cold crypt, and had been bombed a lot during WWII), and went out to eat at the best restaurant I’ve been to yet. Actually, most of the people in our program ended up eating there. Every fifteen minutes another bunch would come in – even the teachers made an appearance!

Although the trip to Florence was only supposed to be about a three hour bus ride, it ended up taking a really, really long time – I think we got to our hotel at about six. Someone mentioned that we sat in traffic for a while, but I didn’t notice because I slept for the first hour and a half. Our hotel in Florence is a whole lot smaller than our hotel in Rome. It is, however, right in the middle of town and we can walk anywhere, which is a lot nicer than having to catch buses and metros. It has a small entry way and lobby downstairs (which we all filled to breaking capacity when we first got here), and then a teeny-tiny elevator (almost as bad as the one in NYC, Vik ‘n Gint) or stairs that take you upstairs. Right near the elevator on the second floor (my floor), there’s a small sitting area which is where I am now, coincidently. The entire upstairs smells kinda funny…like a combination of day old trash and cat pee. Lovely, eh? Our rooms are pretty small, and we got split up with new roommates. Sara and Claire, my old roommates, are sleeping in the room across from me with one other girl, and I’m splitting a room (and our own bathroom, yay!) with Suzanna and another Sarah (there are four or five Sarah’s in the program, and only one of em spells her name without an "H").

Florence is really beautiful. Walking around it is so much less chaotic and intimidating than Rome – everything is really close to the hotel, and people are so much friendlier! The food is also a whoole ton better . I’m trying to eat good lunches only every other day to try to save money. On the off days I’ll stop by really cute Italian delis and pick up the yummiest sandwiches, which are fairly cheap as long as you stay away from major monuments and veer towards the local shops. The other day I had tomatoes, mozzeralla cheeze, oregano, and oil on toasted bread, plus a conversation with the cutest little Italian man. He couldn’t speak a word of English, but chatted with us about where we were from anyway. Have you ever had a conversation with someone when neither of you can understand each other’s language? It’s pretty fun! It takes a while, but a lot of handgestures help. When I thought that his stuffed pig (yes, pig) was real (I was looking at it through the window), he explained to me in Italian, plus hand gestures and noises, that, “No, no!” --- a bunch of Italian, vigorous head shakes, and fingers stuck out as if shooting a gun, plus some bang noises. We finally figured out that he meant that it was not shot and killed, but that it died naturally in the woods and some medical students stuffed it for him. =D

That night I went to Mass (it was Ash Wednesday) at the Doma, which was built by Brunelleschi (look up pictures on Google – it’s pretty awesome). It’s this huge church that reminded me a lot of what churches were supposedly like in the middle ages (even though it was built in the Renaissance). What I mean by that though, is that you go in and it’s really, really huge. Because of this, the whole front of the church is more like a gathering place. People are walking everywhere of course, and tourists being tourists, they’re all quite noisy and flash is going off everywhere from cameras. There are votive candles about halfway down the nave, and you can constantly hear change being put into them. To go to Mass, actually, you can’t even go through the main entrance of the church. You walk around the outside of the church and right before mass you’re allowed to walk into the main sanctuary. Mass was beeautiful. There were actually like twenty-five priests (there must have been a seminary nearby, because most of them were really young), one bishop, and a cardinal, which was fun. Unlike the mass at Saint Peter’s, this one was very formal and awesome. There was incense, music, and at least two or three hundred people attending. I felt so proud of myself when I could join into the, "Lamb of God, you take away our sins” part, because it was in Latin and I could actually understand it, versus the rest of the Mass which was said in Italian. It was even sung using the same mass setting that I’m used to! Sarah and I (Roommate from Rome who's Catholic *yay*) were both really confused before Mass because we didn’t see anyone walking around with ashes on their foreheads. And we were in Italy! Where most people are Catholic! What the heck? So there was a really simple answer: in Italy, (I don’t know if this is true about Europe in general) the priest sprinkles ashes in the shape of a cross on the very top of your skull, so unless you’re bald you can’t see it at all. Needless to say, I felt a little gyped. =p

Thursday morning was spent in the Uffizi Gallary – basically, only every single most famous Italian painting ever. It was awesome. No really, oh you-of-the-not-so-artistically-bent! *coughGintaraicough* I really really enjoyed the first half of the museum, though the second half I didn’t find as interesting. A few of the “major hits” were: Botticelli’s The Birth of Venus (come on, you all should DEFINITELY know that one…look it up and I swear you’ll recognize it!) and Premavera (think: woodnymphs), Parmigianino’s Madonna of the Long Neck, da Vinci’s lesser-known Announciation, Titian’s Venus of Urbino…some Caravaggio's...the list goes on and on, by I know you guys are bored already. Seriously, though, it felt like every time I turned a corner it was like *BAM*, there’s a famous and priceless painting hanging there that I’ve seen images of fifty million times. Very awesome.

That afternoon was spent wandering the streets of Florence and bartering in the open market. I bought two silk and cashmere scarves that were made in Italy. Now I can wear them like a real European – folded in half, draped around the neck, and then looping the ends through where it folds in half. I actually wear my scarves like that at home, but shh! Let’s not ruin my feeling very Euro and chic here, lol). I also spent time finding the many different paper stores in Florence in order to buy my art supplies for my Bookarts and Papermaking class. You can buy the prettiest paper in Italy, and a lot of it is handprinted as well. The store owners are all very proud of their paper, and think nothing of taking out every single sheet in order for you to better appreciate the quality and quantity of their paper. If they see you are hestitating, then they begin to tell you about how no other store in Florence has paper equal to theirs, and how well made and beautiful theirs is. The stores are pretty tiny, and often the owners will follow you around in order to better serve you (though I think that Americans often feel as if they are being stalked). Now that I have most of my paper, I’m really excited and can’t wait for classes to start.

I’m not sure if I mentioned this before, but I’m taking art history (of course! Actually, those classes have already started and we’ve all already had two different writing assignments that we had to complete while visiting certain museums), Bookarts and Papermaking (specifically, how to bind books), Beginning Italian (stupendo! Now maybe I can learn how to speak a significant amount of Italian! Seriously, every time a local starts to talk to me, the first thing that pops into my head is German – AH), and advanced drawing. That night, I went out to a local Scottish pub (The Blue Fish) with a couple of friends. It was fun, although Italians don’t even begin to make an appearance until about 11:30, and since we went out so early the bar was fairly empty. A note: we were all having a really good time, but I have to admit that it’s unusual to see soccer on televison instead of football or whatever. I know, I know…there ARE soccer fans in the states, but still…it’s nowhere near as popular as in Europe. Or, at least, that’s my impression.

Okay…I realize that this is a very long post, and I totally understand if you’re flagging. I didn’t have easy access to the internet for such a long time that now I have to make up for it. And you all DID want to know what I was up to! =D Besides, you didn’t think I was doing this entirely for all of you, did you? This is also a way for ME to remember what I’ve been doing. If I don’t write down every single thing, it will disappear forever in that big black hole that I call my brain! So…onwards to my last day in Firenze, and then I PROMISE I shall call it a night!

This morning we went to the Acadamia museum. One word: David. Nothing can describe Michelangelo’s David. It is one of those experiences of a lifetime…just to stand there and look at it. I’m -sure all of you have seen pictures, so I don’t need to describe it (and if you are artistically challanged, don’t feel like you need to share this information. Just look it up on google and you can try to maintain your aura of intelligence). Whatever you’ve seen, it’s NOTHING like the real statue. For one thing, David. Is. HUGE. I don’t even have an idea of what that statue must weigh, but it fills up an entire room. I can’t conceive how Michelangelo worked on it... For real, I stood there for so long just looking. Walking around him and seeing him from every angle.

There were other Michelangelo statues in the other room (the Slaves), but as they were unfinished you couldn’t even begin to compare the works. A quick note of art historical interest: (aka: yes Drew, if you even got this far, I give you permission to skip this paragraph): After Michelangelo finished David, he didn’t complete another work of art (which is why the Slaves are named that – they are forever chained to the marble that they’re made of, because they are incomplete. They aren’t actually slaves) for 30 years. Thirty. That’s a really long time. Really long. That’s depressing, as you other artists will undoubtedly agree.

The rest of the late afternoon was spent wandering again. This program, if you haven’t noticed, is very loose. Whatever you feel like doing is perfectly fine. Teachers aren’t responsible for students at all and if you miss a bus, well then you better find some way to join the rest of the group! =D I like it, though. I’m glad that we didn’t spend all day every day in museums. Wandering the streets is really the only way you can get a feeling for a city. Talking to locals, eating at restaurants (NOT museum caffeterias, yuck), personally having to dig out a map and find places…that’s the way to do it. I went to an indoor market with a couple of friends (I’m actually feeling like I’m starting to get to know everyone, and know most people’s names, yay!). Mom, this place was like your dream come true: the whole downstairs was dedicated to meat and fish. The place smelled and every white apron in there was splattered with blood. Huge chunks of meat hung from every stall, and you could see animals (dead, not alive) that were waiting to be chopped up on back tables. The upstairs was all fruits, veggies, and dried goods. We found a stall that had every single type of dried fruit and nut. I bought about seven euros worth of nuts to keep in my room and snack on. Yuuuuuummmy! After that, my last purchase of the day (besides a quick and cheap lunch) was my…don’t cringe Teta Dana! Touristy duty of buying a t-shirt. Hey! I have to have one momento from Florence! So I bought a shirt that says: Universita Firenze (University of Florence). It's very cute and I like it. =D

Febuary 4, 2008

One of the best parts of the day is when everyone kicks back and relaxes in the hotel lounge. A bunch of us are sitting around and chatting, typing up homework, or checking mail. The teachers on the other side of the room are actually making even more noise than us! Every minute or so we’ll hear this huge explosion of laughter from their side of the room. It just started pouring, like seriously pouring, outside. I haven’t seen this kind of rain since I’ve lived in Florida. On minute it’s sunshiney and gorgeous, the next it’s raining so hard that the bottoms of your pants are soaked and rain is bouncing off your umbrella. Five minutes later, your freezing cold. The background music is funky – it keeps going from random Italian songs to American oldies sung in Italian. Nora Roberts is thrown in every so often. Today was one of those days that I ended up wandering Rome by myself for a really long time. In the morning we went to the Vadican museums…saw the Sistine Chapel, more Caravaggio, Dahli, Raphael, etc, etc. After that I went off and decided to find the Trevi Fountain – it was definitely not what I had pictured in my mind. For some reason (I guess because of how I had always seen it in movies? Think: Lizzie McGuire, lol), I had thought that you could walk all around the Trevi Fountain. It’s more like this huge fountain that’s stuck to the back of a building and has stairs surrounding its one excessible side – sorta like an ampitheater. Don’t get me wrong, it’s really neat! Just not what I had pictured. It’s definitely one of those “romantic spots” that couples like to sit at and make out (in case you’ve never been to Europe before to experience this yourself, people like to make out. A lot. Everywhere. Like, standing in the middle of the street in oncoming traffic kind of everywhere. The first time you see it, you’re kinda like, “Awww…I’m in Italy…everythings so romantic…they’re kissing. By the fifty millionth time, you’re like, “GET A ROOM!”

I really enjoyed some of the modern art in the Vatican. I can just hear you all perfectly, “What? Modern art in the Vatican???” There were some really neat paintings of the Crucified Christ done in this sketchy style that worked in layers and also used some cubism. I took tons of pictures and really want to look up these artists to see what else they’ve done.

Sunday

Today was a lot more relaxed through several interesting twists: certain places where unexpectedly closed and then it started pouring like anything. It’s Sunday, and we were all supposed to meet outside the Vatican museums at nine-thirty, but I decided to make my first solo expedition and leave for St. Peter’s Basilica early in order to go to 9 o’clock mass (then meet up with everyone else after mass). I knew that St. Peter’s (or Petrio’s, as all the signs say) wasn’t too far away: I would have to walk down the street from the hotel and catch a bus, then get off after roughly eight stops, once you can spot the dome of St. Peter’s and before the tunnel. That, at least, was the plan. Unfortunately I didn’t realize that you have to press a button on the bus to ring a bell, which tells the bus driver that you want off. Eventually, however, I found my way to the Vatican. It was interesting…not at all what it looks like on TV and in movies. You’re in this narrow little street and all of a sudden there’s a whole bunch of columns in front of you. You make your way through those and all of sudden you’re in St. Peter’s square with the Basilica on your left. It’s different of course if you come from the right direction, but still not what I imagined it to be like. First I started walking directly toward the Basilica, but then I realized that to get in, you have to walk in this very roundabout way because of the many barricades (confusing looking wooden fences that make it hard to see the entrance). Basically, you have to look for the line of people waiting to get through security (that’s right…you didn’t think you could get into the Vatican without going through a metal detector, did you?). Random fact: a lot of the Italian police are really hot – it’s true.

St. Peter’s Basilica is huge. Really, really, really huge. To get to the main area where Mass is said, you have to walk all the way to the back, which is fenced off so that people wouldn’t be wandering through it constantly during mass. Mass was…hmmm…how to describe? Not that impressive, actually. A whole lot less music and singing than what I would have imagined. Basically, the organ played during the procession in and out, and for communion and the alleluia. It was a lot more like a daily mass, than a main Sunday mass (all the other masses that day were held in side chapels, so I’m assuming it was the main mass). Although most of the Italian went straight over my head, I DID recognize the Our Father, thank you Mr. Minick! Going up for communion was a lot like my grandma’s Lithuanian church – everyone stampedes forward and then kinda crams into semi-recognizable lines. I think it’s a European thing, LOL. There were about five priests saying the Mass – I was a little disappointed that there wasn’t even one cardinal or bishop. =D After Mass I made a quick stop at the front, right chapel where the Pieta stood behind a protective glass (about ten or so years ago, a maniac got into St. Peter’s and started attacking the statue with a gun, which resulted in a lot of damage to its right side and the loss of one of Mary’s hands and her nose). Oh, and I stopped in the middle of the church to see the….hmm, what would you call it? Basically, there was a rail and you could look down into this tiny chapel which had a wall that said something like, “Here lies Peter” in Italian, or something like that. The chapel is built upon what is believed to be the remains of Peter, the first Pope. It’s pretty cool, but you can’t see much from where you stand. Think: Angels and Demons, without all the lame conspiracy theories, lol.

The Vatican museums turned out to be closed, but I eventually found my group *yay* and we all headed over to Capitoline Hill instead. Ok, so a quick explanation here: Rome is built on seven hills. Capitoline Hill is the seat of Roman municipality. You walk around the Memorial for the Unknown Soldier, up some stairs, and you get to a piazza which is surrounded by the Capitoline museum (which houses lots of very, very old and famous statues, such as the one of the wolf nursing Romulus and Remus). In the middle of this piazza is a copy of the large equestrian statue of Marcus Arelius (sp?), one of the earliest Roman emperors. The original is extremely old and can be seen inside the museum. Although most bronze statues from that time period were melted down and reused for something else, this statue survived the Christian de-paganizing of Rome because it was believed until just recently to be a statue of Constantine, the first Christian emperor of Rome. Alright, alright – enough of the history lessons, right? I’m sooorry…I just think this is all so fascinating. ANYWAY, so we didn’t actually GO to the Capitoline museum, just the piazza. After that we went to the forum (aka: the stereotypical Roman ruins, random columns, and bits of temples and churches) and finally ended up just outside the Colosseum where we all split up. Okay….I’m totally realizing that I’m starting to just give a blow by blow description of eeeeverything I do – which I’m sure ya’ll don’t want. Sorry, I’ll try not to do that, but you don’t understand…there is so much stuff crammed into my day, that one day feels like about two or three days. Mass this morning feels like it was eons ago! =) To make a long story short, I visited the Colosseum with a couple of other girls, then it started pouring so we ducked into a small Italian restaurant, I illegally bought an umbrella (heheh…apparently if the police catch you buying from an illegal street vendor both the vendor and you get in trouble…I think), then I came back to the hotel early because it was still pouring. Almost all the students ended up hanging out in the hotel lounge and having another impromtu internet powwow. I think that the staff have to know what we’re doing, but nobody’s complained to us. Dinner was interesting (lasagnia, then (pardon my spelling) shis kabobs (????), then a bowl of fruit), then a quick meeting to arrange our class times in Cortona and make sure nothing conflicted, then a bit more sitting around and gabbing while playing on our computers, and now…BED. =D hehe….if that wasn’t a run-sentence, then I don’t know what is. ANYWAY, this blog is long enough (it was written over a long period of time, don’t worry) so arrivederci! I’m goin to bed!

Day Two: Lost

Today was really, really, really exhausting – but I feel like I’ve walked the entire city of Rome! My feet ache so bad that I’m actually limping right now. So let’s see….where do I start? I actually slept pretty well last night. I woke up a couple of times very randomly, almost like I was wondering why on earth I was asleep. It was also really hot in the hotel room – my bed is placed almost directly under the heating vent and it was blowing all night. Tonight I’ll make sure to open the window in my room (there’s another window near my roommates’ beds in the connecting room) and turn off the heat. Random point: the windows are pretty cool - they’re the kind that unlatch and swing open , and would be completely illegal at hotels in the U.S. cause a person could jump out of ‘em and then sue the hotel. =p

Both of my roommates and I set our alarms to go off between 7 and 7:15 this morning, so we all got up at about the same time to get ready. The weather was pretty warm yesterday, so I decided to wear pants, a t-shirt, and my raincoat/windbreaker – a good choice because it alternated between being kinda chilly (like 45ish with the wind chill) and warm (like 60) all day depending on whether the sun was out, and if you were in the shade. Breakfast was surprisingly really, really huge and pretty good – they had everything you could think of: eggs (rather tasteless and really runny), four types of cereal, pastries, bacon (no Viktorija, I didn’t have any, but it wasn’t crispy at all so I wasn’t tempted), sausage, yogurt (which was okay, sweet but plain), bread, jelly, sliced fruit, juice, water, coffee, and tea. I ate as much as I could because I knew it would be a while before I could eat again. After we finished eating, we joined one of the groups that were leaving the hotel. The professors all left at different times, so you had the choice of leaving early and getting to see more or sleeping in later and going directly to the meeting spot. We took the bus into Rome, where we all eventually met up at ten in the Piazza Navona (a randomly small piazza that was significant only because it had Bernini’s fountain, The Four Rivers, in the middle of it – for you un-art historical type, that’s a pretty famous artist). I went with the drawing/painting teacher’s group (her name is Rebecca), which was the second group to leave the hotel. We took a bus to a stop just past the Vatican, and from there we walked to several different points of interest. Jacob, our visiting artist (that means that he’s a college grad who gets to help out with the Cortona program for a year while getting to pursue his own art) ended up bumping into us (he inadvertently lost his own group) and helped to tell us about what we were seeing. We didn’t see anything too significant on our walk to the Piazza Navona, although we did spend about fifteen minutes walking around an open market, which was fun. We didn’t really do much there. After looking around, we took turns taking pictures of each other against the nice Italian backdrop. =p Point of fact: It’s really hard to soak in Rome fast – it’s such a big city. I’m really looking forward to getting to Cortona and just relaxing, getting to know some of the local people, trying out the gelato (ice cream) place (I’ve heard it’s really good!), and all that.

Classes have started in this official un-official way – our schedule is this: we have art history from about nine o’clock in the morning (or whatever time we meet in some place or other) till about noon. This consists of us splitting up (in a purely whoever-ends-up-with-whoever way) into groups, and making our way from monument to monument, meeting up only to hear a quick fifteen minute or so explanation by Sara (the art historian – she’s this bubbly, short woman who’s finishing up her MFA at Yale. I actually think that she looks a lot like Mrs. Hansbury). At noon we all wander off in different directions to find lunch and do whatever we want until about two-thirdish or so, when we meet back up (if we want) to split off into different groups again, this time each group goes to see something different and we get to pick who we want to go with or if we just want to go off by ourselves again. After we see whatever it is we want to see, we’re free until 7:30 when dinner is served in the hotel. Now, by dinner I mean a full and complete and fairly formal three course meal, lol. Definitely NOT what we were expecting the first night! You go into this really nice, white –tablecloth restaurant in the hotel where there are about four or five waiters/waitresses (dressed in black with a full white apron and speaking only Italian, for the most part). When you get there, there are already buns on the table (they’re actually kinda hard, but a good starter), red and white wine *mmmm*, and water (or sparkling water). The first night we were served pasta with red sauce (and apparently fish, although I didn’t taste it) as our primo, which means the first course. The funny thing was that none of us realized we were going to get anything else so we ate as much as we could, and then were completely surprised when we were handed another plate with fish and veggies on it! The fish smelled rather nasty, but tasted ok (though kinda bland). The last course was dessert- Viktorija, you woulda loved it..wait, maybe not. It was really interesting: kinda looked like a slice of cake, but it was cold and had the consistency of ice cream, but I couldn’t figure out what it was made of. It was sweet and yummy, and also full of nuts (which is probably why you wouldn’t have liked it). Anyway, the meals have been very good. Sometimes not exactly what I want, but I’m so hungry it doesn’t matter and I’m getting to taste new things. Not exactly what I was expecting, not as much spice and stuff, but I’m gonna wait to try something in a smaller city, where I’m hoping the meals will be more…Italian? Does that make sense? OH, I have to mention the head waiter – he’s so cute! Lol, okay stop groaning, not THAT kind of cute! He’s this older gentleman, who’s short and understands a little English, but speaks only Italian to us. He reminds me of a Leprechaun. =D Seriously, watch that Disney movie, the Luck of the Irish? And he reminds me of that grandfather…I think. Anyway, he’s one of those really cute guys who’ll bend over backwards to help you and whom everyone loves.

ANYWAY, back to what I did today: so after we met up, we went to see two different churches, where we basically rushed in to specifically see several art works (oh, you know…some Caravaggio….some Raphael…!). One of ‘em was the Basilica of St. Augustine (except in Italian) and had the remains (aka: nothing you can actually see, just a coffin) of St. Monica and the other was a French church called San Luigi (sp?). After that we went to the Pantheon. It was Pretty Darn Cool. Okay, so you know what it is, right? The HUGGGE, circular dome that was a temple for all the gods with an oculus in the middle of the ceiling (that’s a round circular opening). It was the largest dome in the world until St. Peter’s was built and it was decided that they had to make St. Peter’s bigger in order for it to be The Best. Well, apparently, there’s still a debate raging on which is bigger depending on how you measure the domes, one is wider and one is taller – apparently math can’t solve everything (whatcha think, Nathan?)! Anyway, I really liked the Parthenon because it’s a church (it was converted into a Catholic Church, but definitely didn’t feel like one!), but it’s not inside or out! The oculus means that when it rains, it rains! The floor is built in a way that it gradually slopes downwards (not so you could tell) and the water drains out. There were some puddles in the middle, btw. Oh, and Raphael is buried there as well. You know…in a random corner… That’s what’s so crazy about Rome: you’ll be in the middle of some random, teeny-tiny Italian street, go around a corner, and WHAM! There’s a famous monument. People are buried in every church and you feel like there’s no humanly possible way of seeing everything.

After going to the Parthenon, I ended up wandering with different people at different times. We picked up some pizza, and since nothing looked familiar I just grabbed and hoped for the best: BIG MISTAKE. I ended up with anchovies on my pizza….diiiisgusting. It. Was. So. Salty. So I ate the crusts, had some trail mix, and decided to fast for a bit. =p After that I wandered with three other girls (my two roommates, Sara and Claire, and another girl…I don’t remember who it was) everywhere and anywhere. I think we originally decided to look for an internet café, but couldn’t find one that was a good deal. We ended up at the Tomb for the Unknown Soldier which is this huge HUGE HUGE building. Like, think a million steps and levels, with two standing guards and two perpetual flames at the bottom. Later on I realized that that building is actually on the Capitoline Hill, so if you walk around the structure, there’s like a million other famous things there…more on that later. I’ll post pictures as soon as possible, but I don’t know when that’ll be. We wandered around on that, trying not to go anywhere that we’d have to pay, aka: a glass elevator that took you even HIGHER if possible and was incredibly expensive, some random museum inside that didn’t look interesting, and a rooftop (very romantic!) bar. From the top of this building, we could spot several impressive and famous sites such as St Peter’s (where we’re going tomorrow), the Colosseum (I tried getting in later on with another group of people, but they stop selling tickets at 3:30), Trajan’s Marketplace (think: lots of lots of mazey looking ruins), etc, etc. I tried out my telephoto lens which is pretty cool cuz it can get really, really close up to something uber far away. After that, we met up with everyone back in the front of the Parthenon (there are way too many people – mainly from India and no I’m not being racist – selling cheap junk there), where I ended up going with Rebecca again to go see an exhibition of Gauguin. It was….eh. I’m not a fan of his work, but I’m more into painting exhibits versus ceramics, and I didn’t really want to go see a Jewelry exhibition. Note to self: next time if nothing sounds interesting, find a group of people who are going somewhere else. I really want to go see the catacombs! But I need to find more info on when they’re open and all that. Surprisingly, everything seems to be open on Sundays. It’s Mondays that everything closes down…weird.

After wandering around the Colosseum (but not in, darn), I ended up with this one guy, Thomas and we decided to make our way back to the hotel. It was just after four. TWO HOURS LATER and long after it got dark, we (or at least I) hobbled into the hotel. We had taken the metro and basically took the wrong way when we got off…like FOUR TIMES. And has anyone ever told you that everyone in Italy knows English? Well, guess what – THEY’RE WRONG. Okay, we stopped like four people and only one person could actually understand and get out a couple of English words. Yep. It was pretty bad. Ah well, everyone needs to get lost at one point or other, right? Lol It was good. Trying to not get hit by cars and mopeds on the freakin small streets in the dark was rather exciting, but yeah, it was good. =D Anyway, roommate number 2 (Sara) is turning off her light, so I better get off the comp. Buona Notte!