Olive Harvesting

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 ;)

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.

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!