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.
Sunday, 24 February 2008
Under the Tuscan Sun
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?
Thursday, 21 February 2008
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
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
Tuesday, 19 February 2008
Italian Lessons
February 19th, 2008
Here’s what I’ve learned so far while in Italy:
- 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.
Sunday, 17 February 2008
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.
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.
Sunday, 10 February 2008
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!
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!
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