I have reached a sobering moment in my study abroad experience. I no longer have the time or money to travel far distances. And you know what, I'm okay with that. I saw amazing places and had amazing experiences. There are places I wished I could see; cities that I wish it were possible for me to visit still. But I have no regrets on the time I have spent here so far, I only wish that I could had more time. So with no more trips to write about, do I keep writing this blog? I just can't abandon my wonderful audience! For their sake and mine, I have three more weeks to continue to enjoy interesting experiences and bring you along with me through this blog. Hopefully you will find these last few posts as enjoyable as the rest.
So last week when I received and email asking for volunteers to harvest olives at a local farm, I thought that I couldn't pass up such an opportunity. After a week full of rainy weather the trip was almost canceled. However the morning came and had clear(ish) skies and the trip was on. Friends from school and I met up with Trudi, the school counselor (it was her olive grove) and she drove us to a village nearby her property called Corciano for a coffee. Corciano is a small, stone-built village, one that looks too perfect for a post card. We walked around to take a few photos and got a tour from a local museum docent through a small Contadini house. The contadini were the members of the Italian agricultural poor class, similar to peasants. They owned no lands and were under contract by their landlords to provide to them a certain portion of their harvest (this practice, which was eerily similar to slavery, was finally outlawed in Italy in the 1960's, the last contract bound contadini are still alive to this day!) In the recent history contadini have been romanticized by Italian culture and are now seen as the root from which Italian cooking and culture are based in.
After our short tour we then drove over to Trudi's olive grove and started the work. It was a cool afternoon and the clouds were filled with the empty threats of rain. In Italy the olive harvest has never been successfully mechanized and is almost completely done by hand. The Italians believe that the mechanical handling of the olive is too rough, it bruises the fruit, and produces sub-par oil. We spent the next few hours placing tarps below trees and using small plastic rakes to comb the branches free of olives. It reminded me of a conversation I had with a cousin this summer.
One evening this summer my family and I were solemnly seated on the front porch at my grandparent's house in San Diego, reminiscing about days past and greeting the many neighbors and friends expressing their condolences over my uncle's imminent passing. My cousin walked out of the front door, carrying pruning shears, and updated us on what was happening inside and the withering condition of his father. He walked over to the large, dusty tree that braced up against the front of the house. He began to cutaway the dead or dying branches from the tree, letting the released fall to the ground and out of sight behind the wall of the porch. I asked my cousin what he was doing; why he was taking the time to take care of this neglected tree. I expected a response concerning a simple reprieve from dreariness of inside. I was surprised to hear a very different response. He explained to me that, if he no longer had to work for the rest of his life, he would like nothing more than to tend to his trees in his backyard. He would prune and care for them, watching them produce the fruits of his labor. I thought that for such a driven man, who has such a passion for cooking and the restaurant industry, surely he would not be so contempt to live the simple life of a farmer.
I thought on this conversation as I slithered between branches and plucked olives from their rightful places. It was a warm feeling caring for this tree. I rather liked the activity: the motion, the flick of the wrist, the rewarding perspiration on my brow. I finally understood my cousin's perspective. As a member of the modern, big-city American culture, I am bashfully unaware of the give-and-take relationship between mother nature and the farmer. My knowledge on the topic began and ended within the chilled produce sections of the supermarket. I realize now that farmers pour their lives and their energy into their fields, and the earth (hopefully) rewards them with sustenance. It's no wonder agricultural based societies looked to the earth, sun, and sky and saw the faces of gods.
Also I would like to point out, the museum docent was a pretty, young Sicilian girl that I struck up a conversation with. It just goes to show, even with a mustache, I can catch the attention of the ladies ;)
Saturday, November 23, 2013
Tuesday, November 19, 2013
Weekend Trip to Prague
Last winter before studying abroad I asked everyone I knew who went abroad which city was their absolute favorite; the city they would return to if they ever could. Hands down the most mentioned city was Prague, Czech Republic. Prague was therefore always on the top of my "cities I can't miss" list. Finally, I was able to spent a weekend there, and might I say, I thoroughly enjoyed myself. The city is beautiful, with rich history, amazing architecture, and a welcoming atmosphere. Of all the European cities I have visited, Prague has seemed the most accessible for foreigners. It truly deserved all the recognition it was given.
Our trip began Thursday night when 25 of us from my school in Perugia (more than a third of our whole program) got on the bus that would take us all the way to Prague, which in total is a 14 hour bus ride! We all booked a weekend long, all-inclusive trip to Prague through the same student traveling company, Bus2Alps. We piled into the bus, our home for the next 14 hours, and cozied up with the 20 or so students from Rome going on the same trip. As we drove through the darkness movies were played and most of the bus was lulled to sleep, with the exception of myself and anyone else unlucky enough to not possess the ability to sleep on public transportation (honestly I wish I could, but I cant. I envy you people). We arrived early Friday morning to our hostel, an hour late, which gave us very little time to unpack, eat, and get back down to the lobby for our first free walking tour of Prague. We all made it back downstairs in time, tired and grumpy, but ready to explore the city. We were given an amazing tour by a very entertaining guide, an Irishman named Deckland, who possibly knew more about Prague than most Czech's! After the tour ended we grabbed a quick lunch. For me this included a delicious bagel sandwich (my first bagel in months) and a pumpkin spiced latte from Starbucks.
Yes, Starbucks. I walked into the Starbucks in the middle of Old Town Square in Prague and was overcome with a feeling of homesickness. I turned to a friend of mine and explained just how important such a silly experience like going to a coffee shop was to me. Starbucks is, oddly enough, a large part of my family life. My mom worked for Starbucks for over 10 years, and so did many of my siblings. My little brother still works at a Starbucks in San Diego. One might call being a barista something of a family vocation. I walked to a familiar room and observed pony-tailed women in their green Starbucks aprons, hurriedly running back and forth behind the counter trying to fulfill their never-ending list of demanding coffees. It felt like home. My only indication of being outside of the States was when the Czech girl behind the counter mispronounced my English name. If she had not I would have mentioned to her how my mother, a Starbucks store manager, would have loved her smiling customer service. I enjoyed every sip of that coffee as it warmed and soothed the shivering bones in my cold-intolerant SoCal body.
After walking around for a little while we returned to the hostel for a necessary nap. We ate cheap takeout Chinese food and then got ready for our evening out on the town. Bus2Alps had prepared a pub crawl for us! That evening was a blur of beers, cigars, dancing, and friends. We all made it back relatively early and fell into our beds, exhausted. The next day we awoke, enjoyed the complimentary breakfast, and got ready for a second walking tour. This tour was not given by a real guide, only our Bus2Alps chaperons, yet it was still a chance to see the sights of Prague we could not see the day before. After thetour, Bus2Alps had arranged a luncheon at a traditional Czech restaurant, one which boast a very popular 500 year old beer recipe. The meal, and especially the beer, was amazing. We returned to the hostel for yet another nap and there we stayed until dinner. We had an amazing meal at an Indian Restaurant that I found through great reviews on TripAdvisor. The next few hours were filled with disappointment. My friends and I were supposed to meet up with the rest of the Bus2Alps group and go to another bar. Unfortunately dinner ran late and we missed the meeting time. We started asking cabbies around the area how to get to the bar and none of them had heard of it. After finally finding cab drivers who knew of the bar and agreed to drive us there, we finally got our hopes up. They proceeded to drive us in a weird direction and stopped outside of a pub, charging us 12 Euro for the cab ride. Being clueless tourists we paid and got out of the cabs; which sped off in a hurry. We realized we had gotten duped too late as we walked down the street and found out they took us in a complete circle. Fed up with everything the majority of us decided to spend a few hours in a nearby Huka bar. Thankfully a group of our friends from Perugia unknowingly walked into the same establishment not 10 minutes later. A few hours later our large group returned to the hostel to get some sleep before our long ride home.
The next morning we ate breakfast and rejoined our Roman travel companions to make the long drive back to Italy and Perugia. For 14 hours (with one break of 45 mins) we watched movies and chatted on the bus. Walking back to our apartments in Perugia was an amazing feeling. It seems anytime we leave this town we are so happy to be coming back.
Monday, November 11, 2013
Weekend Trip to Venice
Last week, with my limited funds in mind, I had to decide what cities were on my must-see list. Venice was placed right at the top of that list. I knew I could not leave Italy without seeing Venice. So with two days to plan, two friends and I decided to make the long trip to go see the sinking city.
We started our journey early Friday morning and hopped on the train in Perugia. After five hours and three trains we finally arrived. We ate a quick lunch and checked in to our hostels, then finally we started our tour of the city. Venice is... well exactly how it looks in the movies. Everywhere you turn there are canals, some larger than others. There has to be hundreds of them, and hundreds of bridges crossing them all. One very large expanse of water, the Grand Canal, basically splits the main island of Venice in two. Unfortunately, the Venetians have only ever built 4 bridges that allow pedestrians to cross the Grand Canal, which can make walking around the city utterly frustrating. More than once my friends and I walked down a street to find ourselves walking towards water, with no where to go but some stairs walking down into the green watery depths. We made our way to St. Mark's Square; probably one of the most famous piazzas in all of Italy. It was breathtakingly large, very similar to Piazza del Duomo in Milan. Our initial reaction to the sight of St. Mark's Basilica was rather subdued as the entire front facade was covered in scaffolding in lieu of a current restoration process. The inside however, that is a different story.
Everything I knew about St. Mark's I knew from reading Dan Brown's most recent novel The Inferno, where his protagonists frantically search the depths of the basilica for hidden clues. Dan Brown mentions how the church is famously known as the "golden church" because of the millions of golden tiles that make up its walls and ceilings. And I would definitely agree with that statement. For some unknown reason the lights within the church are kept at a very dim intensity, and only after letting your eyes adjust do you really comprehend the level of brilliance within the dark space. We had planned ahead and downloaded a free walking tour of the building; a 45 minute detailed description of the many murals and piece of historical artwork within the church and it's museum. After walking all the way through the basilica, mouths agape, we were allowed to go out on the balcony and overlook the entire square. The view was spectacular.
We had also downloaded a free audio guide that took us down the Grand Canal following the stops of the local water buses called vaporetti. It was a 45 minute trip going down the entire length of the canal, pointing out all the famous building and monuments on the way. Unfortunately most of the photos I took while on that vaporetti were terribly blurry and I have not included in the photo album. After all that walking and audio-guide-listening we were hungry. We spent almost a half an hour trying to find a restaurant that was very highly rated on Tripadvisor and Yelp. This place is a very small kitchen that specializes in only selling fresh pasta noodles, however at certain times of the day they sell the pasta with a small selection of signature sauces. It was cheap and served by the half pound in small chinese-food to go containers. We got our pasta, bought bottles of wine and found a place at the edge of the Grand Canal to sit and enjoy our dinner. We sat there, eating pasta from a to go container and drinking wine from the bottle, watching gondolas go by, chatting and enjoying each others company. We finished the night by finding a small local pub and getting a couple beers. The next morning was going to be another early one!
We woke up early and headed off in the direction of St. Mark's square again, however this time in search of the Doge's Palace. The Doge's Palace is a palace/capitol building turned museum. It was the home of the Doge, Venice's historical elected leader (the Doges ruled the city and surrounding area of Venice for over a thousand years!) The palace was a beautiful museum, one that I wish we had some sort of guide for. The most amazing section of the museum was its Armory. The armory was home to a collection of swords, spears, suits of armor, primitive firearms, and one very special weapon. This thing... WAS THE COOLEST. It was a sword that was inlaid with a gun! Half way down the blade on one side was the barrel and the trigger was in the handle. From a logistical standpoint, its completely foolish, as one now has a bad pistol attached to a horribly off balanced sword. But still... that's so awesome. The museum also contains a tour of the Venice prison, attached to the Doge's Palace by a span aptly named "the Bridge of Sighs," as it was the walkway upon which newly sentenced prisoners walked sadly to their new accommodations. After leaving the Doge's Palace the rest of the day was spent navigating the streets of Venice, stopping at mask and glass shops along the way. Mid-afternoon we grabbed the train back to Florence and finally back to Perugia after another five hours of train travel. On the train I met a group of traveling air force soldiers. They were a really fun group of guys and girls traveling to Florence on their extended weekend (they got Monday off for Veteran's Day). As always, it's such a pleasure to meet fellow Americans on the road.
My final thoughts on Venice are bittersweet. I am definitely glad I went to go visit it, as there are parts of the city that I really enjoyed. However, I spent far more money than I thought I would (prices there are ridiculous) and the city is so difficult to get around. With only money left for two more trips, my list of must-see cities has gotten much smaller. Let's see where I end up in a few weeks!
We started our journey early Friday morning and hopped on the train in Perugia. After five hours and three trains we finally arrived. We ate a quick lunch and checked in to our hostels, then finally we started our tour of the city. Venice is... well exactly how it looks in the movies. Everywhere you turn there are canals, some larger than others. There has to be hundreds of them, and hundreds of bridges crossing them all. One very large expanse of water, the Grand Canal, basically splits the main island of Venice in two. Unfortunately, the Venetians have only ever built 4 bridges that allow pedestrians to cross the Grand Canal, which can make walking around the city utterly frustrating. More than once my friends and I walked down a street to find ourselves walking towards water, with no where to go but some stairs walking down into the green watery depths. We made our way to St. Mark's Square; probably one of the most famous piazzas in all of Italy. It was breathtakingly large, very similar to Piazza del Duomo in Milan. Our initial reaction to the sight of St. Mark's Basilica was rather subdued as the entire front facade was covered in scaffolding in lieu of a current restoration process. The inside however, that is a different story.
Everything I knew about St. Mark's I knew from reading Dan Brown's most recent novel The Inferno, where his protagonists frantically search the depths of the basilica for hidden clues. Dan Brown mentions how the church is famously known as the "golden church" because of the millions of golden tiles that make up its walls and ceilings. And I would definitely agree with that statement. For some unknown reason the lights within the church are kept at a very dim intensity, and only after letting your eyes adjust do you really comprehend the level of brilliance within the dark space. We had planned ahead and downloaded a free walking tour of the building; a 45 minute detailed description of the many murals and piece of historical artwork within the church and it's museum. After walking all the way through the basilica, mouths agape, we were allowed to go out on the balcony and overlook the entire square. The view was spectacular.
We had also downloaded a free audio guide that took us down the Grand Canal following the stops of the local water buses called vaporetti. It was a 45 minute trip going down the entire length of the canal, pointing out all the famous building and monuments on the way. Unfortunately most of the photos I took while on that vaporetti were terribly blurry and I have not included in the photo album. After all that walking and audio-guide-listening we were hungry. We spent almost a half an hour trying to find a restaurant that was very highly rated on Tripadvisor and Yelp. This place is a very small kitchen that specializes in only selling fresh pasta noodles, however at certain times of the day they sell the pasta with a small selection of signature sauces. It was cheap and served by the half pound in small chinese-food to go containers. We got our pasta, bought bottles of wine and found a place at the edge of the Grand Canal to sit and enjoy our dinner. We sat there, eating pasta from a to go container and drinking wine from the bottle, watching gondolas go by, chatting and enjoying each others company. We finished the night by finding a small local pub and getting a couple beers. The next morning was going to be another early one!
We woke up early and headed off in the direction of St. Mark's square again, however this time in search of the Doge's Palace. The Doge's Palace is a palace/capitol building turned museum. It was the home of the Doge, Venice's historical elected leader (the Doges ruled the city and surrounding area of Venice for over a thousand years!) The palace was a beautiful museum, one that I wish we had some sort of guide for. The most amazing section of the museum was its Armory. The armory was home to a collection of swords, spears, suits of armor, primitive firearms, and one very special weapon. This thing... WAS THE COOLEST. It was a sword that was inlaid with a gun! Half way down the blade on one side was the barrel and the trigger was in the handle. From a logistical standpoint, its completely foolish, as one now has a bad pistol attached to a horribly off balanced sword. But still... that's so awesome. The museum also contains a tour of the Venice prison, attached to the Doge's Palace by a span aptly named "the Bridge of Sighs," as it was the walkway upon which newly sentenced prisoners walked sadly to their new accommodations. After leaving the Doge's Palace the rest of the day was spent navigating the streets of Venice, stopping at mask and glass shops along the way. Mid-afternoon we grabbed the train back to Florence and finally back to Perugia after another five hours of train travel. On the train I met a group of traveling air force soldiers. They were a really fun group of guys and girls traveling to Florence on their extended weekend (they got Monday off for Veteran's Day). As always, it's such a pleasure to meet fellow Americans on the road.
My final thoughts on Venice are bittersweet. I am definitely glad I went to go visit it, as there are parts of the city that I really enjoyed. However, I spent far more money than I thought I would (prices there are ridiculous) and the city is so difficult to get around. With only money left for two more trips, my list of must-see cities has gotten much smaller. Let's see where I end up in a few weeks!
Tuesday, October 29, 2013
Fall Break: Final Day
My final words on Sicily! I feel like I have written a novel so far. But please bear with me, I have a few more things to claw my way through. There is no need to get grizzly. (Puns are fun)
My final night in Sicily was Saturday night and my last dinner was promised to my great aunt and her family. I was picked up by her grandson Ricardo, the same cousin that brought me to her earlier in the week. Together we walked into her building and up the tiny staircase to her apartment. Inside awaited eight or so family members, none of whom spoke English, yet all of whom were foaming at the mouth to meet me. Thus began my final exam, my Italian test for the week. I was separated from my life-line, my cousins who know a semblance of English and can help me when I stumble for words. I was introduced to everyone, greeted them, and sat down very timid and nervous, leaving sweat marks in my pink shirt that I just knew were visible (yeah, that's right, I wore a pink shirt,my aunt said its looks good with my skin tone). I was implored to serve myself as much as I wanted, "eat everything you want," they told me, "We will serve ourselves after you." Well if that sentence right there doesn't make your skin crawl with heightened expectations I don't know what will. In my very humble opinion... I would say I outdid myself. I was understanding everything, with the exception of my great aunt's rough Sicilian dialect, and responding coherently. We ate and chatted about my time here in Sicily, what I was studying in Perugia and in America, how I felt about Italy so far, and how the family was back home. The meal was fantastically prepared and I promised them I would try to recreate it in Perugia. Upon saying such a thing my great aunt shot up, went to the refrigerator to pull out the uncooked extras, and proceeded to rip them apart, showing me exactly how to make them. One simple statement and I had a 70 year old woman whom I had just met fervently explaining cooking techniques to me. This was the kind of unruly power I had in that tiny kitchen. It felt regal and yet slightly raunchy, like I was not worthy of such attention. Every time I opened my mouth to talk the room got quiet to listen to what I had to say. After a few courses and coffee, my cousin asked if it was time to leave. Eager to end such an ordeal I replied with a subtle, "Yes, that would be fine." I thanked everyone for graciously welcoming me and listening to my poor excuse for Italian. We walked down to the car and my head was spinning. The amount of love and generosity that was just dumped on me, along with the constant translation of languages in my head left me slightly dizzy. It was an experience that was equally as wonderful as it was harrowing (harrowing is too strong of a word, it truly wasn't that bad). Ricardo dropped me off at my aunts house and thankfully offered to bring me to the airport the next day.
The rest of the night was spent trying to find some place to "show me a good time" as my cousins would put it. I was with my two male cousins and their girlfriends fighting the traffic of Palermo to try and find a bar or nightclub to spend the night in. Instead we drove around and around, finding no where to park and no place that wasn't spilling into the streets with people. I could hear the disappointment in the voices of my cousins. They were determined to send me off to Perugia as hungover as possible with good memories of a night spent on the town to hold me over until the next time we would see each other. Little did they know I was happy as a clam, enjoying everyone's presence, sharing stories, and looking out at Palermo from behind the BMW window. Growing up worlds away from each other it would seem easy to not feel connected with them. But the opposite is true. They are just as loved by me as any of the cousins I grew up with in San Diego.
Here's the part where I thank those who I know are reading this (Jessica!) Thank you to my aunt Antoinette and uncle Giacomo for feeding me and giving me a home to live in for a week. Thank you to my cousins Domenico, Pietro, and Giovanna for grabbing the leash and dragging their mute shy puppy of a cousin around their city. Since I know no Sicilian (that's not true I have since learned two words!) I spent a lot of time staring off into space, silently listening, and probably making my cousin's friends think I was a weirdo. Thank you to my cousin's girlfriends, Jessica and Filomena, who made huge efforts to get to know me even though neither of them understand English.
That's it. Now I can say I have been where I come from. I can say I have walked in the footsteps of my ancestors. It's an awesome feeling. Hopefully I have detained it forever within the words of this blog.
My final night in Sicily was Saturday night and my last dinner was promised to my great aunt and her family. I was picked up by her grandson Ricardo, the same cousin that brought me to her earlier in the week. Together we walked into her building and up the tiny staircase to her apartment. Inside awaited eight or so family members, none of whom spoke English, yet all of whom were foaming at the mouth to meet me. Thus began my final exam, my Italian test for the week. I was separated from my life-line, my cousins who know a semblance of English and can help me when I stumble for words. I was introduced to everyone, greeted them, and sat down very timid and nervous, leaving sweat marks in my pink shirt that I just knew were visible (yeah, that's right, I wore a pink shirt,my aunt said its looks good with my skin tone). I was implored to serve myself as much as I wanted, "eat everything you want," they told me, "We will serve ourselves after you." Well if that sentence right there doesn't make your skin crawl with heightened expectations I don't know what will. In my very humble opinion... I would say I outdid myself. I was understanding everything, with the exception of my great aunt's rough Sicilian dialect, and responding coherently. We ate and chatted about my time here in Sicily, what I was studying in Perugia and in America, how I felt about Italy so far, and how the family was back home. The meal was fantastically prepared and I promised them I would try to recreate it in Perugia. Upon saying such a thing my great aunt shot up, went to the refrigerator to pull out the uncooked extras, and proceeded to rip them apart, showing me exactly how to make them. One simple statement and I had a 70 year old woman whom I had just met fervently explaining cooking techniques to me. This was the kind of unruly power I had in that tiny kitchen. It felt regal and yet slightly raunchy, like I was not worthy of such attention. Every time I opened my mouth to talk the room got quiet to listen to what I had to say. After a few courses and coffee, my cousin asked if it was time to leave. Eager to end such an ordeal I replied with a subtle, "Yes, that would be fine." I thanked everyone for graciously welcoming me and listening to my poor excuse for Italian. We walked down to the car and my head was spinning. The amount of love and generosity that was just dumped on me, along with the constant translation of languages in my head left me slightly dizzy. It was an experience that was equally as wonderful as it was harrowing (harrowing is too strong of a word, it truly wasn't that bad). Ricardo dropped me off at my aunts house and thankfully offered to bring me to the airport the next day.
The rest of the night was spent trying to find some place to "show me a good time" as my cousins would put it. I was with my two male cousins and their girlfriends fighting the traffic of Palermo to try and find a bar or nightclub to spend the night in. Instead we drove around and around, finding no where to park and no place that wasn't spilling into the streets with people. I could hear the disappointment in the voices of my cousins. They were determined to send me off to Perugia as hungover as possible with good memories of a night spent on the town to hold me over until the next time we would see each other. Little did they know I was happy as a clam, enjoying everyone's presence, sharing stories, and looking out at Palermo from behind the BMW window. Growing up worlds away from each other it would seem easy to not feel connected with them. But the opposite is true. They are just as loved by me as any of the cousins I grew up with in San Diego.
Here's the part where I thank those who I know are reading this (Jessica!) Thank you to my aunt Antoinette and uncle Giacomo for feeding me and giving me a home to live in for a week. Thank you to my cousins Domenico, Pietro, and Giovanna for grabbing the leash and dragging their mute shy puppy of a cousin around their city. Since I know no Sicilian (that's not true I have since learned two words!) I spent a lot of time staring off into space, silently listening, and probably making my cousin's friends think I was a weirdo. Thank you to my cousin's girlfriends, Jessica and Filomena, who made huge efforts to get to know me even though neither of them understand English.
That's it. Now I can say I have been where I come from. I can say I have walked in the footsteps of my ancestors. It's an awesome feeling. Hopefully I have detained it forever within the words of this blog.
Fall Break: Santa Rosalia and Mazara Del Vallo
This one might be long but I have a lot to say for these two days!
On Thursday I had the pleasure of meeting my grandmother's sister! I was brought to her house by a cousin of mine (who I just met). There I enjoyed some fresh brewed coffee as my great aunt told me how happy she was to meet me and how well I spoke Italian. She invited me to dinner Saturday night and of course I obliged (I will get to that story later!).
Afterwards I met back up with my aunt, cousins, and my cousin's girlfriend. We climbed in the family car and were off in the direction of Palermo to visit a famous church of one of the patron saints of Palermo, the Church of Santa Rosalia. This particular church sat on top of a large mountain in Palermo. As we rode up we could see from the road just how massive the city of Palermo was. There were numerous apartment complexes, more than I could count. We arrived at the church and I was surprised to see a strangely square building, one unlike any other church I had seen before. My aunt explained to me the story of Santa Rosalia and why her church is way up on this mountain. A young man has fallen deeply in love with Rosalia, a noble born woman, and he pursued her greatly. In order to assuage his advances and stay faithful to her religious vows, she fled to the top of the mountain and lived in a cave for 10 years. We walked into the church and subsequently into the cave, and an utterly strange event transpired.
The cave was... downright creepy. I did not enjoy the sight of it. It was dark and very strangely lighted, with yards of metal plates tacked onto the cave ceiling to try and prevent water from dripping onto the pious visitors. There was a particularly creepy bust of a woman sitting in a lonely niche with pale white skin, deeply red painted lips, and blue staring eyes. I took my photos and though I should say a prayer or two to try and clear my mind. I sat in a pew and closed my eyes. All I could think about was how I didn't feel God in this place. The walls were dark and ominous, giving no feeling of comfort. I felt no divine presence, no inner peace. I opened my eyes and contemplated this mismatched feeling. A single large drop of water landed square on my right shoulder. I was startled and looked upwards to find the source but found nothing except the plates of metal designed to keep the water at bay. Was that God's way of telling me he was in that place? I was reminded of the bible verse Matthew 18:20 - "For where two or three gather in my name, there I am with them."
We left the mountain and headed to the beautiful beach town of Mondello. I was told Mondello was a very rich neighborhood of Palermo where most soccer players and politicians lived. The beach was a soft white sand not unlike the sand of the Del Coronado's beach (for any non-San Diegan, the Del Coronado is a famous beach side hotel on Coronado Island; when the President comes to San Diego, they stay there.). We walked down the boardwalk and got gelato, stopping at the small tabletop vendors selling cheap jewelry and scarves. I saw a very out-of-place building and asked what it was. My aunt explained that it was a relic of the war, an old scouting tower, as this was a perfect place to see all of the beach and surrounding area. We left after sunset to be back in Aspra by dinner time.
My trip in Sicily was coming to a swift end and I had a thought that wouldn't go away: I have not seen Mazara del Vallo, the city of my maternal family. I knew that I could not leave the island without seeing it. I asked my aunt if we could see it the next day, which was Friday. She told me the car had to be taken to the mechanic and if I truly wanted to go I would have to take the long ride by train alone. I called my grandmother on my mother's side and told her I was thinking of visiting Mazara, the city where her mother and father were born. I was thousands of miles away from her and yet I could see her smiling through the telephone. I explained it would be difficult but I thought I would give it a try. My grandmother told me that she had never even seen photos of the place, and that if it were possible I should try and find the church where her parents were married. That night my dreams were utterly filled with conflict. Should I go? It would be a grand total of 8 hours of traveling for 4 hours walking aimlessly in a city that I had no idea about. The alarm I tentatively set the night before called an armistice, ending the feuding thoughts. "I'm going to go on an adventure," I thought.
I looked up train schedules, made sure I had a map on my phone, and grabbed the next possible train out of Bagheria. I would have paid 50 euro for that train ride (in total I paid 16 euro for travel). The morning was clear and beautiful. I decided I rather enjoyed the southern part of the island, as it was filled with rolling hills of farms and quaint coastal towns. I arrived in Mazara and headed in the direction of the duomo, the tallest thing I could see. Thus began my 4 hours of randomly walking the streets, camera in hand, taking a photo of everything I could (especially every church I could see). Mazara was gorgeuous. Almost every building was made of a pale yellow limestone similar to Palermo Cathedral. I found numerous small tile paintings plastered to walls, presumably made by children, displaying Mazara as a city of peace and art. I visited many churches and buildings. However my favorite, was a structure which literally made my jaw drop. I arrived at a seemingly normal old church to find its doors completely open, with the light of the sun shining brightly through. I was curious so I walked up to the doors and was surprised to see the church was completely without a roof (after further research, I found out that the roof collapsed in 1933). I walked in and fell silent, watching birds fly in and out of the top of the building. I could have taken a thousand photos of that church, instead I stuck to five or six. For my last hour in Mazara I walked up and down the boardwalk, smelling the salty sea breeze and feeling... at home. I thought, "any minute now I will see the top the the Star of India, sails tucked away, nestled neatly next to Anthony's Fish Grotto." As I returned to the Mazara train station I thought about how I was surprised to not find the name Asaro or Giacalone (my grandmother's family names) on any buildings since I was told they were popular surnames in Mazara. As I walked I looked closely at the names printed on the doorbells of the buildings on the road to the train station. Sure enough, the third building I looked at, there it was, Asaro. I snapped a quick photo and was on my way. I sat back on the train and returned to Aspra, tired from a long day's journey.
To my grandmother: Nana! let me know if any of the churches look familiar!!
On Thursday I had the pleasure of meeting my grandmother's sister! I was brought to her house by a cousin of mine (who I just met). There I enjoyed some fresh brewed coffee as my great aunt told me how happy she was to meet me and how well I spoke Italian. She invited me to dinner Saturday night and of course I obliged (I will get to that story later!).
Afterwards I met back up with my aunt, cousins, and my cousin's girlfriend. We climbed in the family car and were off in the direction of Palermo to visit a famous church of one of the patron saints of Palermo, the Church of Santa Rosalia. This particular church sat on top of a large mountain in Palermo. As we rode up we could see from the road just how massive the city of Palermo was. There were numerous apartment complexes, more than I could count. We arrived at the church and I was surprised to see a strangely square building, one unlike any other church I had seen before. My aunt explained to me the story of Santa Rosalia and why her church is way up on this mountain. A young man has fallen deeply in love with Rosalia, a noble born woman, and he pursued her greatly. In order to assuage his advances and stay faithful to her religious vows, she fled to the top of the mountain and lived in a cave for 10 years. We walked into the church and subsequently into the cave, and an utterly strange event transpired.
The cave was... downright creepy. I did not enjoy the sight of it. It was dark and very strangely lighted, with yards of metal plates tacked onto the cave ceiling to try and prevent water from dripping onto the pious visitors. There was a particularly creepy bust of a woman sitting in a lonely niche with pale white skin, deeply red painted lips, and blue staring eyes. I took my photos and though I should say a prayer or two to try and clear my mind. I sat in a pew and closed my eyes. All I could think about was how I didn't feel God in this place. The walls were dark and ominous, giving no feeling of comfort. I felt no divine presence, no inner peace. I opened my eyes and contemplated this mismatched feeling. A single large drop of water landed square on my right shoulder. I was startled and looked upwards to find the source but found nothing except the plates of metal designed to keep the water at bay. Was that God's way of telling me he was in that place? I was reminded of the bible verse Matthew 18:20 - "For where two or three gather in my name, there I am with them."
We left the mountain and headed to the beautiful beach town of Mondello. I was told Mondello was a very rich neighborhood of Palermo where most soccer players and politicians lived. The beach was a soft white sand not unlike the sand of the Del Coronado's beach (for any non-San Diegan, the Del Coronado is a famous beach side hotel on Coronado Island; when the President comes to San Diego, they stay there.). We walked down the boardwalk and got gelato, stopping at the small tabletop vendors selling cheap jewelry and scarves. I saw a very out-of-place building and asked what it was. My aunt explained that it was a relic of the war, an old scouting tower, as this was a perfect place to see all of the beach and surrounding area. We left after sunset to be back in Aspra by dinner time.
My trip in Sicily was coming to a swift end and I had a thought that wouldn't go away: I have not seen Mazara del Vallo, the city of my maternal family. I knew that I could not leave the island without seeing it. I asked my aunt if we could see it the next day, which was Friday. She told me the car had to be taken to the mechanic and if I truly wanted to go I would have to take the long ride by train alone. I called my grandmother on my mother's side and told her I was thinking of visiting Mazara, the city where her mother and father were born. I was thousands of miles away from her and yet I could see her smiling through the telephone. I explained it would be difficult but I thought I would give it a try. My grandmother told me that she had never even seen photos of the place, and that if it were possible I should try and find the church where her parents were married. That night my dreams were utterly filled with conflict. Should I go? It would be a grand total of 8 hours of traveling for 4 hours walking aimlessly in a city that I had no idea about. The alarm I tentatively set the night before called an armistice, ending the feuding thoughts. "I'm going to go on an adventure," I thought.
I looked up train schedules, made sure I had a map on my phone, and grabbed the next possible train out of Bagheria. I would have paid 50 euro for that train ride (in total I paid 16 euro for travel). The morning was clear and beautiful. I decided I rather enjoyed the southern part of the island, as it was filled with rolling hills of farms and quaint coastal towns. I arrived in Mazara and headed in the direction of the duomo, the tallest thing I could see. Thus began my 4 hours of randomly walking the streets, camera in hand, taking a photo of everything I could (especially every church I could see). Mazara was gorgeuous. Almost every building was made of a pale yellow limestone similar to Palermo Cathedral. I found numerous small tile paintings plastered to walls, presumably made by children, displaying Mazara as a city of peace and art. I visited many churches and buildings. However my favorite, was a structure which literally made my jaw drop. I arrived at a seemingly normal old church to find its doors completely open, with the light of the sun shining brightly through. I was curious so I walked up to the doors and was surprised to see the church was completely without a roof (after further research, I found out that the roof collapsed in 1933). I walked in and fell silent, watching birds fly in and out of the top of the building. I could have taken a thousand photos of that church, instead I stuck to five or six. For my last hour in Mazara I walked up and down the boardwalk, smelling the salty sea breeze and feeling... at home. I thought, "any minute now I will see the top the the Star of India, sails tucked away, nestled neatly next to Anthony's Fish Grotto." As I returned to the Mazara train station I thought about how I was surprised to not find the name Asaro or Giacalone (my grandmother's family names) on any buildings since I was told they were popular surnames in Mazara. As I walked I looked closely at the names printed on the doorbells of the buildings on the road to the train station. Sure enough, the third building I looked at, there it was, Asaro. I snapped a quick photo and was on my way. I sat back on the train and returned to Aspra, tired from a long day's journey.
To my grandmother: Nana! let me know if any of the churches look familiar!!
Monday, October 28, 2013
Fall Break: Palermo and Day 4
Tuesday morning of last week I woke up ready to visit Palermo, the capital city of the region of Sicily. Three lovely ladies (my cousin Giovanna, her friend Luana, and my other cousin's girlfriend Filomena) were my guides through the city. We arrived at Palermo Centrale station after a short ride from the Bagheria train station. From there we started down a famous street in Palermo, Via Roma. We walked past one beautiful church and the most ornate post office I have ever seen to see the first of two amazing theaters. This one I immediately noticed as Teatro Massimo, the theater featured in the film Godfather part III (terrible movie) in the scene of Michael Corleone's son's murder. Directly after seeing this theater we walked to the second famous theater in Palermo (and my personal favorite), Teatro Poilteama. We walked to the other side of the long piazza of the theater to find a small reconstruction of a Greek temple. To the best of my knowledge this temple-like structure has absolutely no historical significance, and yet I found it strikingly beautiful. We then walked to a famous intersection known as Quattro Canti. Each of the four corners of the intersection house a large fountain, one for each season. Directly behind one of the fountains is a beautiful church called San Guiseppe dei Teatini. The interior of this church was magnificent. From there we walked to the duomo of Palermo (the duomo of a particular city is it's largest or most famous church, it does not actually have to have a dome!) which is simply called the Palermo Cathedral. This massive yellow limestone church was a beautiful sight! Strangely the outside was far better to look at than the rather plain interior. We saw a few more churches and ended up at a famous fountain whose official name is Fontana Pretoria however it is known to the locals as Fontana Vergogna or "shame fountain" as all the statues are clearly and bashfully nude. We ended our tour of the city sights by walking down and the path of an old market. When we returned to Aspra I parted ways with my female escorts and thanked them for patiently speaking to me in Italian all day. I had thought the day of picture taking was over. Instead I took some photos of Aspra and my cousin drove me up a nearby mountain so I could take some shots of the whole city from above. I slept well that night after a long day of sightseeing, obviously after applying heavy amounts of cortizone ointment for my countless mosquito bites.
The next day was not as eventful. My cousin Domenico, his friend Mauro, and I went out in their small fishing boat to fish for "poupu"which is Sicilian for octopus. And wouldn't you believe it! We caught nothing! Thus continues my streak of fishing endeavors without catching a single thing ( I think I am up to 6 times in a row). Pardon my digression, but it makes no sense how terrible of a fisherman I am. And yet, I enjoyed myself. The sea was calm, the sun warmed my body, and the view of Aspra and the backdrop of the mountains was beautiful. When I looked out onto Sicily from that little boat, I could not help but notice how ancient the island looked. Jagged mountains shot up and fell down in huge cliffs near the water's edge. The unsettled areas around and lining the mountains were filled with sparse grass and small olive trees. I had to be looking out at the same sights Greek mariners saw five or six thousand years ago when they ventured this far west and first founded settlements on Sicily. In Homer's The Odyessey, one of the most famous classical pieces of Greek literature, the island of Sicily (or what is thought to be the island of Sicily) was inhabited by families of gigantic cyclopes (I googled it, that's the plural version of cyclops) (don't you start doubting me). In the midsts of the adventure of the main character Odysseus, a blinded cyclops by the name of Polyphemus breaks off the tip of a mountain and hurls it at the fleeing Odysseus' ship, sending the rock crashing into the Mediterranean. I stood in that tiny boat, flinging my fishing rod, finally understanding why Homer had used Sicily for such a story. So many of these mountains looked as though their tops has been loped off by a giant. As I recreated the scene in my head, I couldn't pick which mountain in my plain of sight would be my wounded mountain, sitting at a fraction of the height it used to have before Polyphemus had to decapitate it. Unfortunately my most unplanned and sloppy attempt at speaking Italian was trying to explain this story to Domenico and Mauro. I kept mentioning words like mountain and cyclops, they had no idea what I was trying to say.
Later that evening I was brought to a small and famous village called Santa Flavia. I tried taking pictures but I found out very fast the orange light of street lamps is the worst lighting for photographs. I believe I spared some in order to show you how terrible the photos came out.
Fall Break: Sicily Day 1 and 2
I'd like to start out by saying in Sicily, no one speaks English. Thankfully most of the younger generation are taught and therefore can speak Italian. However the overwhelming majority speak Sicilian, which is surprisingly different from Italian. I would estimate that 80% of my time in Sicily was spent in silence trying to listen and understand what the hell everyone was saying. When some one addressed me, which they did and I am very grateful for, they spoke Italian slowly and clearly. I surprised myself every time by actually understanding them and being able to respond. I had full conversations with friends and family in Italian, which until a year and a half ago was only a dream I could say I wanted to accomplish. Now, that dream is becoming a reality (Thank the lord!).
My first two days in Sicily were very similar. I was living with my aunt's family in the sleepy fishing town of Aspra, a small section of the larger Sicilian city of Bagheria. A little tidbit of information for you: apparently Aspra is home to 90% of the world's sardine factories. The place is reminiscent of the old American coal mine towns whose very life blood came from their single export; if the sardines were lost the town would fall apart. But I digress! Both days I woke up late, aroused by the loud snoring of my cousins whose room I shared and the magnificently itchy feeling of a dozen new mosquito bites acquired throughout the night. Both days we ate a late lunch followed by a trip out to the sea on a little boat, in search of a small strip of beach to wash up on and pass the time. It was very relaxing. After returning from the beach we would shower, eat a home cooked meal, jump in the family car, and ride out into the night in search of friends and a place to sit and enjoy a beer. The town was so small that everyone knows everyone, and everyone knows that everyone has nothing to do and was seeking entertainment. We would drive down the streets, yelling at other local kids, wondering what they were up to. Both nights we ended up at a small outdoor bar in Porticello, a nearby town known for (you guessed it) its large port. We grabbed beers and conversed in a slurry of languages: English, Italian, Sicilian, and sometimes other dialects of Italian (my cousin is dating a wonderful Neapolitan girl).
During these two days I formulated an analogy that by the end of the trip I had confirmed to be downright accurate. Sicilians eat how they drive: with as little rules as possible.
Driving in Sicily is not for the weak of stomach. It is simple, fast, and without regulation. Seat belts are not obligatory. A girlfriend of my aunt's pointed out the fact that she could tell exactly who was the American in the car because I was the only one wearing my seat belt. "Mi scusate," I would say, " e' un abitudine, non sto pensando!" (I'm sorry, it's a habit, I am not thinking) Also it is clear that Sicilians do not have a healthy respect for what we might call a "lane line." Maneuvers were made that in the California would grant you a nicely sized ticket. However they do have a healthy respect for the size of their vehicle and just how small of a space they can get their car into. Crowds of car were able to crawl through tiny streets without a drop of nervous sweat produced from their drivers (maybe it's just me but I don't like anything to get within a foot of ole Besty, my 23 year old Cadillac).
The classic Sicilian dinner is very similar. The meal resembles a densely crowded street as participants make mad rushes for the large platters of food spread out on the table. Before the meal the table is populated with loafs of bread, liters of soda and water, and the large platters of whatever meats and vegetables are being served. Everyone sits, and the chowing-down commences. Few words leave mouths in order to make room for the copious amounts of food going back the other direction. Arms are reaching and plates are passed. Bread is broken and used to scoop up any juices left on a plate. The meal is done after 15 minutes. Now this is the kind of eating I can get used to.
I did not take any photos these days but not to worry, There are plenty more to come!
My first two days in Sicily were very similar. I was living with my aunt's family in the sleepy fishing town of Aspra, a small section of the larger Sicilian city of Bagheria. A little tidbit of information for you: apparently Aspra is home to 90% of the world's sardine factories. The place is reminiscent of the old American coal mine towns whose very life blood came from their single export; if the sardines were lost the town would fall apart. But I digress! Both days I woke up late, aroused by the loud snoring of my cousins whose room I shared and the magnificently itchy feeling of a dozen new mosquito bites acquired throughout the night. Both days we ate a late lunch followed by a trip out to the sea on a little boat, in search of a small strip of beach to wash up on and pass the time. It was very relaxing. After returning from the beach we would shower, eat a home cooked meal, jump in the family car, and ride out into the night in search of friends and a place to sit and enjoy a beer. The town was so small that everyone knows everyone, and everyone knows that everyone has nothing to do and was seeking entertainment. We would drive down the streets, yelling at other local kids, wondering what they were up to. Both nights we ended up at a small outdoor bar in Porticello, a nearby town known for (you guessed it) its large port. We grabbed beers and conversed in a slurry of languages: English, Italian, Sicilian, and sometimes other dialects of Italian (my cousin is dating a wonderful Neapolitan girl).
During these two days I formulated an analogy that by the end of the trip I had confirmed to be downright accurate. Sicilians eat how they drive: with as little rules as possible.
Driving in Sicily is not for the weak of stomach. It is simple, fast, and without regulation. Seat belts are not obligatory. A girlfriend of my aunt's pointed out the fact that she could tell exactly who was the American in the car because I was the only one wearing my seat belt. "Mi scusate," I would say, " e' un abitudine, non sto pensando!" (I'm sorry, it's a habit, I am not thinking) Also it is clear that Sicilians do not have a healthy respect for what we might call a "lane line." Maneuvers were made that in the California would grant you a nicely sized ticket. However they do have a healthy respect for the size of their vehicle and just how small of a space they can get their car into. Crowds of car were able to crawl through tiny streets without a drop of nervous sweat produced from their drivers (maybe it's just me but I don't like anything to get within a foot of ole Besty, my 23 year old Cadillac).
The classic Sicilian dinner is very similar. The meal resembles a densely crowded street as participants make mad rushes for the large platters of food spread out on the table. Before the meal the table is populated with loafs of bread, liters of soda and water, and the large platters of whatever meats and vegetables are being served. Everyone sits, and the chowing-down commences. Few words leave mouths in order to make room for the copious amounts of food going back the other direction. Arms are reaching and plates are passed. Bread is broken and used to scoop up any juices left on a plate. The meal is done after 15 minutes. Now this is the kind of eating I can get used to.
I did not take any photos these days but not to worry, There are plenty more to come!
Sunday, October 27, 2013
Fall Break: Milan
The first section of my break! So much to talk about!
The week before fall break we all had midterms! Yay! But I was different and special, because I was the only student that also had a 4 hour standardized test the following Saturday. It was a real pleasure to be studying so much and writing three papers as well! Early Friday morning I took a bus headed for Milan. There is something about traveling through Tuscany in the early morning that struck me as breathtaking. Perhaps it was the low lying fog that clung to the rolling hills of the vineyards. Or maybe it was the sunrise over Lake Trasimeno that painted the still water shades of orange, purple, and red.( Trying to paint word pictures as I lack real pictures of this morning)
I arrived in Milan after hours of travel and had quite some trouble finding the apartment I was staying in for the night. Eventually I arrived and the lovely lady who rents it out gave me the keys and bade me a good nights rest before my test ( Lovely woman, the apartment was great and only 30 Euro!) The day was far from being over so I thought that I would try and see some sights before studying and getting to sleep. I took the metro to the Duomo station and walked out of the subway with my mouth agape. The Duomo of Milan was absolutely breathtaking. Fortunately I chose the walkway from the underground station whose stairs faced the front of the church. I walked slowly up the steps as the Duomo revealed itself to me one step at a time. The Piazza del Duomo is a shockingly large square, filled with people and surrounded by building. On one side was the Duomo, and the other side was the entrance to the Gallery of Victor Emanuelle II. I chose to enter the Duomo first as all my feet could do was gravitate toward it. The interior is surprisingly plain however the walls are covered in large stain-glassed windows, pieces of art that have a special place in my heart. After walking around the church I entered the Gallery of Victor Emanuelle II, a large structure with a glass-domed ceiling that housed rows of expensive shops and restaurants. I finished my walk with a well deserved dinner from a place raved about on Yelp, a small joint called Luini's that served tiny fried calzones (Panzerotti's... yummm). I returned to the apartment, cracked my study book, and tried to smash tiny piece of information into my brain before it was too late.
The next morning I took a taxi to the testing center ( a small American K-12 just outside of Milan) and took the dreaded test. It was hard (in the words of Forrest Gump, and that's all I wanna say about that). I walked out of the testing center, in search of someone to split a cab with. I found the only other two students taking the Biochemistry test, one American and one Italian, talking about some questions. I asked them if either wanted to split a cab to the train station, instead I got an invitation for a free ride to the train station which eventually turned into a tour of the Milan by a local (the Italian girl who took the test)! Unfortunately I did not have my camera because I did not think to bring it with me to the testing center. The three of us scientists walked through the fashion district, the Duomo, an old famous castle called Castello Sforzeco, and the massive park behind the castle. It was a great way to cool off from the test and see more of the city. I said farewell and good luck to my fellow biochemists and returned to my apartment. I gathered up my things, gave back the keys, grabbed a bus from the train station, and headed to one of the Milan airports. I made it through security easy enough ( if only they knew what I was smuggling) (nothing but happiness, duh) and boarded my plane headed for Sicily!!
The week before fall break we all had midterms! Yay! But I was different and special, because I was the only student that also had a 4 hour standardized test the following Saturday. It was a real pleasure to be studying so much and writing three papers as well! Early Friday morning I took a bus headed for Milan. There is something about traveling through Tuscany in the early morning that struck me as breathtaking. Perhaps it was the low lying fog that clung to the rolling hills of the vineyards. Or maybe it was the sunrise over Lake Trasimeno that painted the still water shades of orange, purple, and red.( Trying to paint word pictures as I lack real pictures of this morning)
I arrived in Milan after hours of travel and had quite some trouble finding the apartment I was staying in for the night. Eventually I arrived and the lovely lady who rents it out gave me the keys and bade me a good nights rest before my test ( Lovely woman, the apartment was great and only 30 Euro!) The day was far from being over so I thought that I would try and see some sights before studying and getting to sleep. I took the metro to the Duomo station and walked out of the subway with my mouth agape. The Duomo of Milan was absolutely breathtaking. Fortunately I chose the walkway from the underground station whose stairs faced the front of the church. I walked slowly up the steps as the Duomo revealed itself to me one step at a time. The Piazza del Duomo is a shockingly large square, filled with people and surrounded by building. On one side was the Duomo, and the other side was the entrance to the Gallery of Victor Emanuelle II. I chose to enter the Duomo first as all my feet could do was gravitate toward it. The interior is surprisingly plain however the walls are covered in large stain-glassed windows, pieces of art that have a special place in my heart. After walking around the church I entered the Gallery of Victor Emanuelle II, a large structure with a glass-domed ceiling that housed rows of expensive shops and restaurants. I finished my walk with a well deserved dinner from a place raved about on Yelp, a small joint called Luini's that served tiny fried calzones (Panzerotti's... yummm). I returned to the apartment, cracked my study book, and tried to smash tiny piece of information into my brain before it was too late.
The next morning I took a taxi to the testing center ( a small American K-12 just outside of Milan) and took the dreaded test. It was hard (in the words of Forrest Gump, and that's all I wanna say about that). I walked out of the testing center, in search of someone to split a cab with. I found the only other two students taking the Biochemistry test, one American and one Italian, talking about some questions. I asked them if either wanted to split a cab to the train station, instead I got an invitation for a free ride to the train station which eventually turned into a tour of the Milan by a local (the Italian girl who took the test)! Unfortunately I did not have my camera because I did not think to bring it with me to the testing center. The three of us scientists walked through the fashion district, the Duomo, an old famous castle called Castello Sforzeco, and the massive park behind the castle. It was a great way to cool off from the test and see more of the city. I said farewell and good luck to my fellow biochemists and returned to my apartment. I gathered up my things, gave back the keys, grabbed a bus from the train station, and headed to one of the Milan airports. I made it through security easy enough ( if only they knew what I was smuggling) (nothing but happiness, duh) and boarded my plane headed for Sicily!!
Wednesday, October 9, 2013
My First Weekend Staying in Perugia
After traveling so much I finally had a weekend of relaxation! I stayed in Perugia because I had a field trip on Saturday with my religion class to a small town called Spoleto. Saturday was supposed to be the rainiest day of the whole month; I was not too excited about that. But I had also heard Spoleto was a cute little town.
Spoleto was originally an important Roman city. It lies in the path of one of Rome's oldest roads, Via Flaminia, which made it a major economic center (compared to Perugia which was not directly connected to the capital). We went to the archaeological museum and sat in a real Roman amphitheater. The museum also had exhibits of stone and bronze pieces that have been found in or near Spoleto. The most important of which were two stone tablets found on the top of a nearby mountain. The tablets have been dated to pre-Roman times, somewhere around 5th or 6th century BC. They warned everyone who came to the mountain to never take anything from its forests because the was a sacred place belonging to their equivalent to Jupiter (Zeus).
We also saw a few old churches in while in Spoleto. The largest and most grand was the Duomo (the Duomo of any city is its largest church, it doesn't have to have a dome). It is considered to this day the pinnacle of Romanesque architecture and was finished in the 11th Century. However this was not the church that struck me the most. Our very first stop of the day was at a very small and old church, La Basilica di San Salvatore, built in the 4th Century AD. It was finished sometime in the late 300's which is less that a century after Constantine legalized Christianity. This must be one of the oldest surviving churches in Italy, definitely the oldest church I have been in. The original Christians who prayed here probably had relatives or knew someone who was persecuted and killed for being a Christian. Walking into the space was very humbling. It was plain, grey, it was easy to tell they borrow stones from everywhere they could. Even the columns were miss matched; they must have taken columns from different nearby buildings. Everything looked thrown together and cheap, as if the people who built it were poor and were looking for anything to build a structure to pray in. The entire grey scene within the church is broken by one fragment of a surviving fresco behind the alter. It is the only dash of color so your eyes are immediately drawn to it. It was simple, and therefore fit the space perfectly. The whole building was a perfect example of early Christianity, before the church was heavily concerned with money and land; when Christians just needed a space to get together and be in the presence of the Lord.
I thought it was going to be raining the entire time so I didn't bring my camera! But my other classmates did so maybe they can send me some photos.
The rest of the weekend was spent in doors, mostly watching the thunderstorms outside from the safety of my bedroom window. But God forbid I relax any more! I have tons of work to do.
Spoleto was originally an important Roman city. It lies in the path of one of Rome's oldest roads, Via Flaminia, which made it a major economic center (compared to Perugia which was not directly connected to the capital). We went to the archaeological museum and sat in a real Roman amphitheater. The museum also had exhibits of stone and bronze pieces that have been found in or near Spoleto. The most important of which were two stone tablets found on the top of a nearby mountain. The tablets have been dated to pre-Roman times, somewhere around 5th or 6th century BC. They warned everyone who came to the mountain to never take anything from its forests because the was a sacred place belonging to their equivalent to Jupiter (Zeus).
We also saw a few old churches in while in Spoleto. The largest and most grand was the Duomo (the Duomo of any city is its largest church, it doesn't have to have a dome). It is considered to this day the pinnacle of Romanesque architecture and was finished in the 11th Century. However this was not the church that struck me the most. Our very first stop of the day was at a very small and old church, La Basilica di San Salvatore, built in the 4th Century AD. It was finished sometime in the late 300's which is less that a century after Constantine legalized Christianity. This must be one of the oldest surviving churches in Italy, definitely the oldest church I have been in. The original Christians who prayed here probably had relatives or knew someone who was persecuted and killed for being a Christian. Walking into the space was very humbling. It was plain, grey, it was easy to tell they borrow stones from everywhere they could. Even the columns were miss matched; they must have taken columns from different nearby buildings. Everything looked thrown together and cheap, as if the people who built it were poor and were looking for anything to build a structure to pray in. The entire grey scene within the church is broken by one fragment of a surviving fresco behind the alter. It is the only dash of color so your eyes are immediately drawn to it. It was simple, and therefore fit the space perfectly. The whole building was a perfect example of early Christianity, before the church was heavily concerned with money and land; when Christians just needed a space to get together and be in the presence of the Lord.
I thought it was going to be raining the entire time so I didn't bring my camera! But my other classmates did so maybe they can send me some photos.
The rest of the weekend was spent in doors, mostly watching the thunderstorms outside from the safety of my bedroom window. But God forbid I relax any more! I have tons of work to do.
Thursday, October 3, 2013
Random Thought #5
So I walk up to my apartment door the other day and I am greeted with an unsettling sight. There is a scorpion on the wall a few inches from my door, just hanging out, being all menacing. Obviously, I begin to panic a little bit. I open my door and yell into the apartment," is anyone home? Get the hell over here now!" One of my roommates comes running over and I show him our undesirable guest. He begins to tell me about how he has seen them around before and that in Italy they are not a big deal.
NOT A BIG DEAL HE SAYS
It's a scorpion for Pete's sake (I'm referring to a buddy of mine named Pete, I do a lot of things for his sake)! I asked my roommate what we should do about the creature. He told me, in the words of Italian-Americans everywhere," don't worry about!" I looked down at the creature, found some mercy in my soul and left him undisturbed. But oh did I give him a piece of my mind; yelling at him for disturbing my peace, telling him to move on before his friend (my roommate) wasn't around to protect him. I...well I didn't use that calm of language, but that was the gist of my aggravated speech to the scorpion. Needless to say when I left for class a few hours later he had high-tailed [get it ;)] it outta there, heeding my strong advice.
As I walked into class I sat down and immediately raised my hand looking for some sort of answers from my professor regarding my harrowing encounter. My professor ensured me that Italians aren't bothered too much by the large population of scorpions in the area. Apparently a sting from them is similar to a sting from a bee: you don't go looking for it, but you also don't go to the hospital for it.
Following this rant I tried to provide a photo from the internet to show you what young Mr. Scorpion looked like. I immediately regretted that decision. I now look forward to a restless evening.
NOT A BIG DEAL HE SAYS
It's a scorpion for Pete's sake (I'm referring to a buddy of mine named Pete, I do a lot of things for his sake)! I asked my roommate what we should do about the creature. He told me, in the words of Italian-Americans everywhere," don't worry about!" I looked down at the creature, found some mercy in my soul and left him undisturbed. But oh did I give him a piece of my mind; yelling at him for disturbing my peace, telling him to move on before his friend (my roommate) wasn't around to protect him. I...well I didn't use that calm of language, but that was the gist of my aggravated speech to the scorpion. Needless to say when I left for class a few hours later he had high-tailed [get it ;)] it outta there, heeding my strong advice.
As I walked into class I sat down and immediately raised my hand looking for some sort of answers from my professor regarding my harrowing encounter. My professor ensured me that Italians aren't bothered too much by the large population of scorpions in the area. Apparently a sting from them is similar to a sting from a bee: you don't go looking for it, but you also don't go to the hospital for it.
Following this rant I tried to provide a photo from the internet to show you what young Mr. Scorpion looked like. I immediately regretted that decision. I now look forward to a restless evening.
Monday, September 30, 2013
Oktoberfest trip!
Grandparents look away... Nooo I'm just joshin', it's totally PG.
First off I want to say I spent an absurd amount of money on this single weekend, including the money for 24 total hours of transportation time. Most of those 24 hours were spent on a train. It was... totally worth it.
The trip begins waking up early on Friday morning to take the first train possible to Bologna. There I thankfully had an hour to solve the maze that is Bologna Centrale train station. I found my train to Munich and after much frustration (how the hell am I supposed to read my German train ticket?) found my correct seat. And we were off! The views were... spectacular. As you will see with my photo album, I tried capturing the views but my camera could not do it justice. The moment I saw the crisp blue waters of the Adige River with the Alps in the background I knew I had made the right decision. I was trying to read a book the whole way and would constant look up from the page and be struck with the awesome view outside my window.
I noticed something interesting while on this train. While traveling between states by car one can easily tell when they enter a new country by blatantly driving through the border. In a train however, that line is a lot less clear. As a curious traveler, I really wanted to know where Italy stopped and where Germany began (in this case my train actually crossed the border at Austria). There were a few things from my observations I wanted to mention. Germans enjoy brightly colored buildings! They color their houses white, bright yellow, and pretty much any other color you would see in an Easter egg basket. Maybe the most obvious observation was the amount of vineyards on the Italian side of the border. The northernmost region of Italy must have a great climate for growing grapes because there are vineyards everywhere. The most interesting observation however is the presence of graffiti in Italy. For some reason I cannot remember seeing a speck of graffiti on German walls. Maybe it is because the Germans do not tolerate such behavior or maybe it is because so much of Germany was recently rebuilt and has yet to be graced with that specific defamation. But in Italy, graffiti is everywhere. It's almost like the Italian state doesn't mind that sort of vandalism. Somehow Italy has given its patronage to graffiti.
I finally made it to the hotel I was staying at by about 7pm, fulfilling my day of travels. A short time later my friends from Santa Clara arrived and we prepared for the day ahead of us by trying to get a good nights rest.
Another early morning, which included free breakfast at the hotel, and we were off to the festival grounds! We arrived at "Oktoberfest" by 7:30am because we were told to get there very early. In case you don't know (i know most of you have no idea) Oktoberfest is the largest festival in the world today. Inside there are 21 gigantic tents ( the largest holding 10,000 seats!) each owned by a different beer company and tons of rides, shops, and food sellers. Once a fortunate person gets inside a beer tent they must find a seat, then and only then are you served beer (by the liter) and copious amounts of food. Well, we got into a giant group of people to enter one of the smaller tents. We muscled our way in, found a table with some German guys our age, and never left our spots! An interesting comradery envelops the crowd of people after the first round or two of beers. By the end of our time their we had sang and danced with everyone in our general vicinity, including the group of middle aged Italian men at the table next to ours. By 3pm we were all ready to throw in the towel. We made it back to the hotel room and grabbed a well deserved nap. Afterwards we got some dinner in the Munich city center and I enjoyed a fantastic dish called Weiner Shnitzel (more fun to say than it is to taste). Full of good German food, we walked around and finally made it back to the hotel, satisfied with our day of celebration.
Oh look, another early morning! Once again I had to be up and out of the hotel early. This time my train left at 9:30am (thank God for the Munich station being to easy to traverse!). Thus began my travel back to Bologna and subsequently back to Perugia. I met a wonderful Canadian couple on the train and we talked about half the way to Bologna. We talked of my abroad experience and their traveling though Italy. It is so refreshing to run into fellow North Americans while abroad. I finally walked into my apartment at 9:30pm, once again 12 hours of travel finished. I was greeted by my roommates and friends making fresh gnocchi, as well as a Chargers victory. I love Italy.
First off I want to say I spent an absurd amount of money on this single weekend, including the money for 24 total hours of transportation time. Most of those 24 hours were spent on a train. It was... totally worth it.
The trip begins waking up early on Friday morning to take the first train possible to Bologna. There I thankfully had an hour to solve the maze that is Bologna Centrale train station. I found my train to Munich and after much frustration (how the hell am I supposed to read my German train ticket?) found my correct seat. And we were off! The views were... spectacular. As you will see with my photo album, I tried capturing the views but my camera could not do it justice. The moment I saw the crisp blue waters of the Adige River with the Alps in the background I knew I had made the right decision. I was trying to read a book the whole way and would constant look up from the page and be struck with the awesome view outside my window.
I noticed something interesting while on this train. While traveling between states by car one can easily tell when they enter a new country by blatantly driving through the border. In a train however, that line is a lot less clear. As a curious traveler, I really wanted to know where Italy stopped and where Germany began (in this case my train actually crossed the border at Austria). There were a few things from my observations I wanted to mention. Germans enjoy brightly colored buildings! They color their houses white, bright yellow, and pretty much any other color you would see in an Easter egg basket. Maybe the most obvious observation was the amount of vineyards on the Italian side of the border. The northernmost region of Italy must have a great climate for growing grapes because there are vineyards everywhere. The most interesting observation however is the presence of graffiti in Italy. For some reason I cannot remember seeing a speck of graffiti on German walls. Maybe it is because the Germans do not tolerate such behavior or maybe it is because so much of Germany was recently rebuilt and has yet to be graced with that specific defamation. But in Italy, graffiti is everywhere. It's almost like the Italian state doesn't mind that sort of vandalism. Somehow Italy has given its patronage to graffiti.
I finally made it to the hotel I was staying at by about 7pm, fulfilling my day of travels. A short time later my friends from Santa Clara arrived and we prepared for the day ahead of us by trying to get a good nights rest.
Another early morning, which included free breakfast at the hotel, and we were off to the festival grounds! We arrived at "Oktoberfest" by 7:30am because we were told to get there very early. In case you don't know (i know most of you have no idea) Oktoberfest is the largest festival in the world today. Inside there are 21 gigantic tents ( the largest holding 10,000 seats!) each owned by a different beer company and tons of rides, shops, and food sellers. Once a fortunate person gets inside a beer tent they must find a seat, then and only then are you served beer (by the liter) and copious amounts of food. Well, we got into a giant group of people to enter one of the smaller tents. We muscled our way in, found a table with some German guys our age, and never left our spots! An interesting comradery envelops the crowd of people after the first round or two of beers. By the end of our time their we had sang and danced with everyone in our general vicinity, including the group of middle aged Italian men at the table next to ours. By 3pm we were all ready to throw in the towel. We made it back to the hotel room and grabbed a well deserved nap. Afterwards we got some dinner in the Munich city center and I enjoyed a fantastic dish called Weiner Shnitzel (more fun to say than it is to taste). Full of good German food, we walked around and finally made it back to the hotel, satisfied with our day of celebration.
Oh look, another early morning! Once again I had to be up and out of the hotel early. This time my train left at 9:30am (thank God for the Munich station being to easy to traverse!). Thus began my travel back to Bologna and subsequently back to Perugia. I met a wonderful Canadian couple on the train and we talked about half the way to Bologna. We talked of my abroad experience and their traveling though Italy. It is so refreshing to run into fellow North Americans while abroad. I finally walked into my apartment at 9:30pm, once again 12 hours of travel finished. I was greeted by my roommates and friends making fresh gnocchi, as well as a Chargers victory. I love Italy.
Thursday, September 26, 2013
Random Though #4
This one is a little more serious than the other random thoughts.
I am currently taking a class titled Mafia, Murder, Mystery: A look a the history of the Sicilian Mafia. It is an immensely interesting class for a number of reasons. First of all my professor, an Italian born American who teaches in Perugia, has an ex-husband who is in the anti-mafia task force in the Sicilian Carabinieri (Carabinieri is equivalent to military police). So already she comes into the course with some great insider knowledge. Secondly, we are using both American and Italian films to study the gang. I am excited to see how Italian films capture mafiosi and mafia families.
But the most important reason why this class is so interesting to me is because I really do not know how to feel every time I step out of class. For years my mother has chastised my brothers and I for watching and enjoying films like The Godfather and Goodfellas. These films are critically acclaimed and to this day very popular, despite being 20 to 40 years old. But my mother has a point; those mafia films glamorize a completely destructive lifestyle. The men in these stories have no regard for the basic human right to life, and the women live in fear of their husbands. It truly is a sad commentary on people trapped in a world of violence.
Sometimes while I am in class I think to myself about how amazing the level of influence a small island like Sicily has on the world. The mafia has done so much worldwide. It can give one a sense of pride. I think to myself," I am from there, my people did this, they changed the world."
And then the next sentence of that idea comes crashing out of the sky. Oh they have changed the world. They have made it worse. They breed fear and death and violence. That is not something to be proud of.
I had a simple assignment last week. My class was told to read the introduction of a book titled "Cosa Nostra" by John Dickie; a book that has been referred to as the greatest collection of mafia history. After reading the introduction we were to write a simple paragraph on our thoughts regarding the introduction. I made the following comparison: "I do not know how I feel about learning about the mafia yet. It is like hearing your recent ancestors come from a great warrior nation full of cannibals." It would be hard to be proud of the military conquests of said people when you know their history is stained with the compulsive desire for the taste of human flesh.
I will mention something happier now! I leave for Munich tomorrow morning and I am taking the train the whole way there. This is the view I expect:
BE JEALOUS
I am currently taking a class titled Mafia, Murder, Mystery: A look a the history of the Sicilian Mafia. It is an immensely interesting class for a number of reasons. First of all my professor, an Italian born American who teaches in Perugia, has an ex-husband who is in the anti-mafia task force in the Sicilian Carabinieri (Carabinieri is equivalent to military police). So already she comes into the course with some great insider knowledge. Secondly, we are using both American and Italian films to study the gang. I am excited to see how Italian films capture mafiosi and mafia families.
But the most important reason why this class is so interesting to me is because I really do not know how to feel every time I step out of class. For years my mother has chastised my brothers and I for watching and enjoying films like The Godfather and Goodfellas. These films are critically acclaimed and to this day very popular, despite being 20 to 40 years old. But my mother has a point; those mafia films glamorize a completely destructive lifestyle. The men in these stories have no regard for the basic human right to life, and the women live in fear of their husbands. It truly is a sad commentary on people trapped in a world of violence.
Sometimes while I am in class I think to myself about how amazing the level of influence a small island like Sicily has on the world. The mafia has done so much worldwide. It can give one a sense of pride. I think to myself," I am from there, my people did this, they changed the world."
And then the next sentence of that idea comes crashing out of the sky. Oh they have changed the world. They have made it worse. They breed fear and death and violence. That is not something to be proud of.
I had a simple assignment last week. My class was told to read the introduction of a book titled "Cosa Nostra" by John Dickie; a book that has been referred to as the greatest collection of mafia history. After reading the introduction we were to write a simple paragraph on our thoughts regarding the introduction. I made the following comparison: "I do not know how I feel about learning about the mafia yet. It is like hearing your recent ancestors come from a great warrior nation full of cannibals." It would be hard to be proud of the military conquests of said people when you know their history is stained with the compulsive desire for the taste of human flesh.
I will mention something happier now! I leave for Munich tomorrow morning and I am taking the train the whole way there. This is the view I expect:
BE JEALOUS
Sunday, September 22, 2013
Weekend trip to Rome
There is so much to say and I am neglecting doing my homework by writing this!
My roommate Max and I began our journey Thursday night, planning on reaching our hostel by 11:30pm. Even though we knew we had an early morning the next day, we thought we could get some sleep at the hostel. Of course we missed the train we were planning on taking ( it sat in the station behind our backs for 10 minutes while we neglected it). After some panicking and a friendly train conductor helping us, we finally reached Rome and our hostel at around 1am.
The next day started at 6:15am! I got no sleep in a room with 10 other people (it was hot and humid like you wouldn't believe!). We left the hostel and met Max's sister and her friend in the Rome train station. From there we got on a subway and found our way to the Vatican. Upon arriving we met up with a family friend of Max and his sister Lexi (by the way, not only are Max and Lexi fellow SCU Bronco's but they are also former CCHS Dons!). Their friend, Brother Andrew, is a seminarian learning to be a priest in the Vatican. He had invited Max and Lexi to bring some friends and receive a personal tour of the Vatican.
The day began with a very special Mass. Brother Andrew escorted us beneath the floor of St. Peter's Basilica to the the area where most popes are buried. There was small central chapel down there, one that is apparently on the other side of a marble wall from the remains of Peter. We had Mass in that chapel, just the 5 of us. It was a very special and spiritual experience, even coming from a non-Catholic background.
After Mass and a small breakfast we entered the Vatican Museum and were given a personal and very historical tour by Brother Andrew and his fellow seminarian Brother Zamir. They were very knowledgeable and showed us all the important artifacts (we were in the Sistine Chapel talking about all the imagery for at least 30 minutes). I snapped just the worst sneaky photo of the Sistine Chapel ceiling.
After walking through the museum we walked through St. Peter's Basilica and were told about all the amazing symbolism and artwork within the massive church. One thing I have to mention. There is a reddish-purple stone used in ancient Roman sculpting called Red Porphyry. Only one vein of this rock was ever found, making it one of the most rare and expensive types of rock. As you might be able to tell, it was reserved for royalty, only being used in very important pieces. As you will see in my photos a Pope decided to take a large circle of it and place it in the ground at the beginning of the Basilica, symbolizing how we are all worth the same amount in God's eyes.
It was lunch time. After asking if we enjoyed seafood, Brother Andrew guided us to a restaurant a few blocks from the Vatican. We sat down and he explained to us that this was the type of restaurant where you didn't order anything, they just brought out the food to you. Right away, I knew this would be an experience. I will now list off things I ate that I never thought I would eat in my life: Mussels, sea snails, anchovies, fried baby squid, clams, smoked salmon, these mini lobsters, and giant prawns. And holy crap was it delicious! We had an amazing meal and basically waddled out of the restaurant.
Max and I split ways with the rest of the group and got back to the hostel. We changed and headed back out into the town, ready to get some more sights in, We followed a map provided by the hostel that brought us to most of the famous Roman sights like the Trevi fountain and the Spanish steps. After a few more hours of walking and a small late night dinner with Max's sister and her friend, we retreated to the hostel to get some rest.
Here's another short story I wanted to include. I walked into the room at the hostel, ready for a shower and a good night's rest. As I walk in I see the beautiful, quiet, dark haired girl that had the bunk below mine feverishly speaking Spanish to this fair-skin, fair-haired guy sitting in a chair in front of her. I went about my business getting ready for bed basically eavesdropping on their conversation. I thought to myself, "I can do this, I can communicate with these people." So I got up out of bed, and I started speaking Spanish to them. We started having a discussion in Spanish about the language's inherent relationship to the Italian language. I learned that she was in fact a Spaniard and she didn't know any English but a little Italian. The guy however knew 5 languages! he was such a nice guy, filled with stories about his travels through the North America on a motorcycle. I was so surprised by my ability to interact with people, having a full conversation in a language other than English. It was rather surreal.
The next morning Max and I headed out to see the sights in the ancient city of Rome. The Colosseum was much bigger than I expected! We walked through the Roman Forum as well as the Pallatine Hill (the hill on which all the Roman emperors, with the exception of Nero, built their palaces). After that we walked to the Pantheon. I enjoyed that building way more that I thought I would. It was such a sight to see. We got back to the hostel, grabbed out stuff, and got the the train station. Our journey ended with one more train hiccup but we made it back to Perugia late Saturday night.
Tuesday, September 17, 2013
Day 21
I am so busy! I am planning three trips at once! I booked a hostel for my trip to Rome this weekend. I am helping coordinate my classmates to book a trip to Prague for the middle of November. And I am looking into transportation for my trip to Munich for Oktoberfest!
Did I forget to mention I have homework! Oh and I have to cook and eat my dinner.
What I didn't have to do was attend an espresso tasting seminar at my school. That was so very interesting! We went to a local coffee shop and a professor from the food studies course gave us a history of espresso and how it came to be so important in Italian culture. She was impressed by my extensive knowledge on the topic (thanks ma).
Did I forget to mention I have homework! Oh and I have to cook and eat my dinner.
What I didn't have to do was attend an espresso tasting seminar at my school. That was so very interesting! We went to a local coffee shop and a professor from the food studies course gave us a history of espresso and how it came to be so important in Italian culture. She was impressed by my extensive knowledge on the topic (thanks ma).
Sunday, September 15, 2013
Weekend Trip to Florence!
Florence! I went to Florence. No big deal.
I'm going to get this rant out of the way because I need to before I can tell you about the rest of the trip. My friends and I walked around A LOT of Florence. It's a beautiful city. But I heard more English in Florence than in San Diego (figuratively speaking of course). Every where your ear turned you heard English. You heard it from Italians, from american tourists, from tourists of all nationalities. All menus and signs were written in Italian and English. How does anyone expect to learn Italian by studying abroad here! You can't! We would ask for things in Italian, the people would respond in English. It was very frustrating! My friends and I decided early on that we were so happy to be studying abroad in Perugia, a town where the only English you hear is coming out of our mouths.
Now that is over, we can continue.
We got off the train Friday afternoon and found our hostel, after about an hour of frantic searching. We then decided to go to the Uffizi Museum to pick up these museum passes we bought. The Uffizi is one of the oldest and most famous museums in the western world. We arrived too late as the place was already closed. We crossed the Arno and walked up to the Palazzio Michelangelo, which the hostel director told us had the best view in the city. He was right, the view was fantastic. After coming back to the city, we changed and met up with some fellow american students studying abroad. We were met with some amazing hospitality! We went to bed early as the next day was to be filled with walking.
Saturday morning we woke up, grabbed a cappuccino and a pastry, and headed for the Uffizi. The museum cards we got allowed us to skip all the lines and pay no additional fees. We spent around 3 hours in that museum. I saw pieces of art I had only ever seen in history textbooks. Pieces from famous Renaissance artists like Botticelli and Leonardo da Vinci. After the Uffizi we walked to L'Accademia, which is known for housing Michelangelo's statue of David. I thought I had a big butt, David's got me beat. After that museum we walked across the river to the Piatti Palace, the former home of the Medici family, the richest and most powerful family in Florence's history. The Boboli Gardens are the engorged backyard of the palace. The gardens are amazingly beautiful. After a long day of walking we retreated to the hostel for a shower and a rest. Later that night we went to a great restaurant, payed top dollar for the famous Florentine Steak and shared a bottle of the equally famous Chianti Classico, the most famous of Tuscan wines. We ended the night at an underground bar that featured a live Rolling Stones cover band. A great first weekend of travel.
I'm going to get this rant out of the way because I need to before I can tell you about the rest of the trip. My friends and I walked around A LOT of Florence. It's a beautiful city. But I heard more English in Florence than in San Diego (figuratively speaking of course). Every where your ear turned you heard English. You heard it from Italians, from american tourists, from tourists of all nationalities. All menus and signs were written in Italian and English. How does anyone expect to learn Italian by studying abroad here! You can't! We would ask for things in Italian, the people would respond in English. It was very frustrating! My friends and I decided early on that we were so happy to be studying abroad in Perugia, a town where the only English you hear is coming out of our mouths.
Now that is over, we can continue.
We got off the train Friday afternoon and found our hostel, after about an hour of frantic searching. We then decided to go to the Uffizi Museum to pick up these museum passes we bought. The Uffizi is one of the oldest and most famous museums in the western world. We arrived too late as the place was already closed. We crossed the Arno and walked up to the Palazzio Michelangelo, which the hostel director told us had the best view in the city. He was right, the view was fantastic. After coming back to the city, we changed and met up with some fellow american students studying abroad. We were met with some amazing hospitality! We went to bed early as the next day was to be filled with walking.
Saturday morning we woke up, grabbed a cappuccino and a pastry, and headed for the Uffizi. The museum cards we got allowed us to skip all the lines and pay no additional fees. We spent around 3 hours in that museum. I saw pieces of art I had only ever seen in history textbooks. Pieces from famous Renaissance artists like Botticelli and Leonardo da Vinci. After the Uffizi we walked to L'Accademia, which is known for housing Michelangelo's statue of David. I thought I had a big butt, David's got me beat. After that museum we walked across the river to the Piatti Palace, the former home of the Medici family, the richest and most powerful family in Florence's history. The Boboli Gardens are the engorged backyard of the palace. The gardens are amazingly beautiful. After a long day of walking we retreated to the hostel for a shower and a rest. Later that night we went to a great restaurant, payed top dollar for the famous Florentine Steak and shared a bottle of the equally famous Chianti Classico, the most famous of Tuscan wines. We ended the night at an underground bar that featured a live Rolling Stones cover band. A great first weekend of travel.
Thursday, September 12, 2013
PICTURES
I have spent most of today and trying to get all the pictures set up and uploaded correctly. I think you will all love the way the photos are configured!
I was so tired and fed up yesterday of not having the necessary adapter to upload my photos from my sister's camera. I googled (surprisingly accurate in Italy) an electronic store in the greater Perugia area. I used their website to confirm that they had what I was looking for. I stepped out my apartment and went a-searchin'. Just when I thought I couldn't find the darn place because I had no map, I turned around to go back down the street I had come up and there is was, staring at me, Eutronics! So here are the photos of my trip so far!
This album is a few photos of Perugia
This album is a look at my apartment
This album is all the photos from my trip to the farm/vineyard
This album are the photos I tool while at Lake Trasimeno
I was so tired and fed up yesterday of not having the necessary adapter to upload my photos from my sister's camera. I googled (surprisingly accurate in Italy) an electronic store in the greater Perugia area. I used their website to confirm that they had what I was looking for. I stepped out my apartment and went a-searchin'. Just when I thought I couldn't find the darn place because I had no map, I turned around to go back down the street I had come up and there is was, staring at me, Eutronics! So here are the photos of my trip so far!
This album is a few photos of Perugia
This album is a look at my apartment
This album is all the photos from my trip to the farm/vineyard
This album are the photos I tool while at Lake Trasimeno
Sunday, September 8, 2013
Trip to Lake Trasimeno
We decided to go back to the lake we were near yesterday! I invited my whole program on our facebook group. We had a group of about 15 take this small trip with us! Its was the first time most of us had used the train so that too a little bit of time to get used to. We grabbed the train in Perugia and got off in this little lakeside town called Passagnano Sul Trasimeno. From there we had no idea how to get down to the water and find a beach. So we walked! We eventually found a small beach and settled in. It was a hot day so we were all eager to get into the water. The floor of the lake was a slimy dark clay that was riddled with seaweed and other pokey things. I had to help two girls into the water but eventually everyone got in and cooled off ( the water temperature was amazing). We spent most of the day laying on the sand and enjoying the scenery.
I realized a few things today while walking to find a beach. I am surprisingly comfortable here. We walked past a backyard and the smell of the trees reminded me of my grandparents backyard. We walked past a few restaurants and there were so many smells that reminded me of my family. I even saw people that looked a lot like they could be my relatives. A lot of the hills are even reminiscent of California. All of these things are so comforting. I can see how things may be different for the other students in my program but for me, this place feels like a second home.
There was an older woman at the beach today who looked like she could have given this guy a run for his money in an "I'm tanner than you competition."
Saturday, September 7, 2013
Trip to a local farm
Today the entire program got bused to a local farm! We drove out of Perugia and into the lakeside town of Magione. Our school has brought it's students to this farm once a semester over 20 times! The owner, Flavio, showed us how to harvest grapes and press the juice out of them. And yes, I got into the giant tub and squashed grapes with my feet. It was... rather enjoyable. After working in the field for a bit, we sat down to eat. Flavio and his family fed us a great meal, everyone had lots of food to eat and lots of wine to drink. The star of the show was the amazing view! Lake Trasimeno is the 4th largest lake in Italy. It was a beautiful sight! Once I get a memory card adapter for my computer I will post all the photos here.
The real star of the show was a very young puppy that lived on the farm. Right when he poked his head out of the farm house the entire group of students lost their concentration. He was this adorable puff ball that everyone passed around. I have photos of him too of course!
The real star of the show was a very young puppy that lived on the farm. Right when he poked his head out of the farm house the entire group of students lost their concentration. He was this adorable puff ball that everyone passed around. I have photos of him too of course!
Friday, September 6, 2013
Day 9
Finally cooked last night! I made a simple bolognese sauce but it was very tastey! Of course before I cooked anything I spent a few hours yesterday rearranging and cleaning the kitchen. How am I supposed to cook anything in a dirty kitchen! The bad news it my kitchen knives are terrible...I'll get used to it.
I have never not had a washing machine AND dryer. The drying rack has become sort of a nemesis of mine....
I have never not had a washing machine AND dryer. The drying rack has become sort of a nemesis of mine....
Ode to My Nemesis
He says he'll provide a service for me
He says he'll dry my clothes
I don't believe him, but I trust him anyways.
For days he holds onto my belongings
Waiting outside my bedroom door, taunting me with them
Never drying, never drying.
Each day is a lie,
my clothes are never dry
even though I try and try
they make me want to cry
(I felt poetic today)
Wednesday, September 4, 2013
Random Thought #3
There are coffee machines everywhere that dispense amazing coffee for cheap but they don't give you change but the coffee is so good makes it really easy to pay attention in class especially when the walls of the classroom have a map of Italy with a sea serpent on it and the board has some words in Italian and did i mention the coffee is good and cheap it's like they want us to buy lots lots lots of it because it tastes so good.... SQUIRREL... But anyways, coffee good yeah yeah...yeah
Tuesday, September 3, 2013
Day 5
When I am in class I can hear a street performer playing the accordion. Can you believe that? Is that not the most Italian thing you can think of?
Today the second half of Italian class focused on how to order things at restaurants and bars. It was so helpful! I now know how to approach, talk to, and carry a legitimate conversation with servers and shop keepers.
Tonight I had fantastic Greek food and then we went to have a drink at this outdoor bar with a great view.
Today the second half of Italian class focused on how to order things at restaurants and bars. It was so helpful! I now know how to approach, talk to, and carry a legitimate conversation with servers and shop keepers.
Tonight I had fantastic Greek food and then we went to have a drink at this outdoor bar with a great view.
Monday, September 2, 2013
First Day of Class
So the whole first week of class is "intensive Italian" meaning we are in only Italian class all day. They do this in order to get students that havent taken any Italian a some semblance of the language, as we live in a city where not everyone speaks English. I'm in the I-have-never-taken-Italian-and-I'm-scared-class which is really freakin' easy because I have already taken a year. This class is required and I am not getting any credit for it from SCU so why not just take the easy A class.
Just to update you on other things. The city is... well pretty much everything I expected. It's all stone buildings, it's churches, it's pizzerias and gelaterias, it's the epitome of what you think Italy is. I have eaten at the same pizzeria two night in a row. Why? because it's fantastic pizza and because I can. It's an awesome life.
Everyone walks slowly. That I have really noticed. I'm trying to blend into the crowd but I think the speed with which I walk really gives me away. But I think I blend in pretty well regardless. I have spoken pretty convincing Italian to most shop keepers.
Just to update you on other things. The city is... well pretty much everything I expected. It's all stone buildings, it's churches, it's pizzerias and gelaterias, it's the epitome of what you think Italy is. I have eaten at the same pizzeria two night in a row. Why? because it's fantastic pizza and because I can. It's an awesome life.
Everyone walks slowly. That I have really noticed. I'm trying to blend into the crowd but I think the speed with which I walk really gives me away. But I think I blend in pretty well regardless. I have spoken pretty convincing Italian to most shop keepers.
Sunday, September 1, 2013
Random Thought #2
Italian men don't often wear shorts, but when they do, they wear them SHORT, i'm talkin' mid thigh level. It has to be...drafty?
I HAD ONE JOB
I got a camera from my sister to take a thousand photos and show them all to you. Well I didn't look into getting them from her camera to my computer. I have taken some amazing photos of Perugia but I cant get them to you! As soon as this problem is resolved you can see what this town has to offer!
Friday, August 30, 2013
first night
We were fed an awesome dinner at the hotel's restaurant. Afterwards some new friends and i enjoyed a bottle of wine standing in an empty rooftop pool. Why you ask? Why not! Who can say they have done that!
landed!
my disclaimer for this message is that i have been awake for more hours than i care to admit. i have landed in roma and since bused to Perugia. my school is housing us in a hotel for the evening. A few things i realized from my trip thus far:
1. there is no comfortable way to sleep in a plane.
2. i had no idea italy had so many sunflower farms
3. i need to sleep.
Now... I tackle my next foe, the BIDET!
Thursday, August 29, 2013
Random Thought #1 ( There will be many of these throughout the trip)
I'm sitting in the San Fran airport working on this blog, it's 8:18am, I've been up for three hours, so now I'm looking at shoes. I'm looking at shoes and I notice something. Those jesus sandals... you know, the ones with all the straps. Those are just so ugly. But oh how I want them to be fashionable. Think about it, all the stability of shoes yet with the breath-ability of sandals. Now you're thinking to yourself, Anthony, how can you dictate what you wear based on fashion, if you want them just wear them! Ya well, that's just dumb. That's how the world works. In my opinion, many men find those weird high waisted shorts girls are wearing as not so attractive any yet girls are wearing them because they are in fashion! Also, what about Crocs! same thing right! No, Your wrong.
First Post!
Hello all! Thank you for following my blog. I plan to be concise but you know me, I like to talk. I also plan to post as much as I can but I fear that as the months go on I will begin to forget or be so lazy that I chose not to post. In the case of the latter, start bugging me to post something! I know a lot of you do not get the chance to have such a great experience so I would like to post enough that you feel you were right here next to me on all my trips!
That being said, in the words of Mario, HERE WE GOOOOO
That being said, in the words of Mario, HERE WE GOOOOO
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