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Monday, February 16th, 2009

Sitting at my table, reflecting upon my week...I find that I have forgotten to tell you readers about my new plan. No, it's not a new plan for world domination - I've already tried and failed miserably and my ego is still mending - it's my plan for this here blog of mine. I've decided that, rather than write a post for every single day that passes, I will only post if I feel that I have done something worthy of posting or if I have seen something I'd like to share. As I wrote to my grandmother today in an email, "...I'm only going to write posts every couple days and only about the most important happenings. I figure it's better to write really well about really amazing things than to write semi-well about only half-interesting things. Who cares what we ate for lunch, anyway?" Of course, I went on to tell my grandmother that there is to be an exception made for a certain Pizzeria that I ate at in Roma, where the pizza crust melts in your mouth, and a Gelateria here in Firenze, where the gelato is so good that you wish it wouldn't melt in your mouth, both of which I plan on bringing both my grandmother and my mother to.

I digress.

This past week I attended class, as always, on lunedi, martedi, and mercoledi, completed my homework and reading assignments, and did all things related to my schooling. I'm not on vacation, after all (something that I don't think everyone who says 'I'm so jealousss' realizes). I am finding that I love all of my classes. This is really quite a statement as a semester full of good classes rarely happens to a person. Lunedi ho Italiano at 9am and I really do love it. The likenesses between espanol ed italiano are strikingly abundant and thus I find it very easy to understand my teacher while she rattles off different terms and rules in italiano. I really do feel sorry for the other girls in my class who stare dumbfoundedly at the teacher for most of the lessons, muttering to each other about how they have no idea what is going on. But, at the same time, one would think that those same girls would raise their hands and ask questions if they didn't understand...apparently not. I have gotten many a sideways glance when I speak up and answer the teachers domandi (questions). Nobody else will!

My list of great classes continues on lunedi at 6pm with Web Design. I may have posted this before, but I love listening to accents. Aside from my teacher's accent being enjoyable, though, I like this class because of the fun that I have in it. Manipulating a real-life-image feels so powerful in so many ways. I can take a portrait and make the subject of it look completely opposite. I can take that same subject and then put them in front of a whole new background. Amazing!

Martedi ho Cibo Italiano, Food of Italy, at 9am. This class, if my life depended on it, I would probably say is my favorite. Last week was my first lesson during which we, as a class, cooked a full dinner...and ate it for breakfast! 

The Antipasto that one group of studenti prepared, pictured below, was Canederli Tirolesi, or Tyrolean Dumplings. This dish is a favorite in the northern state of Trentino - Alto Adige, Italy. Trentino, an Italian-speaking town, is located just south of Alto Adige, where the main dialect is German and where these dumplings are called Knodel. This dish is quite simply german, consisting of various herbs and spices, bread, eggs, and Speck - a type of salt-cured ham similar to the Italian prosciutto. After all of the ingredients are mixed together and rolled into egg-sized balls, they are boiled in stock for 20 minutes and then plated and covered with a layer of fresh Parmesan.

The next dish, and the one that absolutely nobody wanted to be in charge of cooking - or eating, for that matter - was Fegato alla veneziana, Liver, Venetian Style. I was the only one who actually wanted to cook this dish, but was joined by another girl in the class and, later, the only guy in the class. The girl and I first had to clean up the liver by slicing off any fatty excess or grizzle, and then cutting the liver into small strips. We then chopped up some onion and parsley. After sautéing the onions in some olive oil and buttter we added the liver, browned it, added the parsley and some salt and pepper, and finally some sweet white wine to complement the sweetness of the liver and onions. The outcome of this dish was delicious. I love to try new foods, and don't have any food aversions to speak of, so this dish was the cherry on top for me in this lesson. Too bad only the teacher, myself, and the only guy in the class actually liked it. The majority of the dish was thrown out. What a waste.

The dessert of the day, and the dish that absolutely everyone wanted to make, was Tiramisu. Tiramisu is actually a fairly young dessert, most popularly served in Veneto (Venice). Simply made it calls for marscapone cheese, eggs, espresso powder, sponge finger cookies, and sometimes liquor, among other ingredients. A well-made Tiramisu dessert is usually allowed to sit in the refrigerator for a good six hours before being served. 

We also prepared a frittata as an appetizer, which was the first thing to be inhaled by the class - thus the lack of photo. I've decided that I don't need to eat dinner the night before or breakfast the day of this class. We make so much food!

This weekend it was instilled further in my mind that delights of the gastronomic kind are most certainly highlighted here in Italy. Saturday, upon arriving in Veneza the group with which I was traveling was given a tour of the islands Murano and Burano, one famous for its array of beautifully colored houses, and one for its specialty in glass production. This past weekend on my trip to Venice I was lucky enough to have a complete Venetian Carnivale Dinner: Antipasti, 3 Primi, and Tiramisu to die for. Along with a bottle of Venetian Red Wine, 2007, and several bottles of Aqua Naturale, the meal was definitely a perfect way to end the busy day.

Apologies for the belated post --- many more posts (with much better quality) to come - and soon - my dear readers.

My Roman Vow

Sunday, February 8, 2009

Last day in Roma. The girls and I woke up around 10am as we had to be out of Hostel by 11. We had planned to see the Catacombs, but the ones that didn't charge entrance and that were on our way to the train station closed at noon on Sundays for siesta and didn’t reopen until 2pm. Sadness. We all packed what few bags we had and handed in the room key. Saying a sad goodbye to Hotel Colors, the five of us made off towards the leather shoppe where I had bought my belt the previous day. 

While we had been there yesterday Jaimee had seen a purse that she decided she could not live without. On top of that, I had woken up that morning and put on my belt just to find that it was still too big. So Jaimee bought her white leather purse and Jen picked out a coin purse for her mother while I had the lady at the table re-size my belt. The purses were beautiful, and I plan on getting an Italian leather purse at some point, but I wanted my own purse to be from a small town where I could talk to the person who tanned the leather. I really wanted it to be special and not like any other.

Afterwards we walked around some more, bought gelato – I had the regular (larger) size for a change, with Nutella flavor and Chocolate Rum-Cake flavor. Delicious. We walked and ate, curving our path gradually towards the train station where we would be leaving on our 1.50pm train. We passed the Roman baths on the way there, but didn’t have time to go in and explore. I vow to return to Rome to explore its gardens, catacombs, aqueducts, and baths. There is really far too much to see in Rome. One could probably live there all their life and not see all of its wonders.

As we sped off away from Roma and towards Firenze I caught myself mid-thought: I am so lucky.

Epic

Saturday, Febuary 7, 2009

We woke up late today. After being out until 1am this morning and then not going to sleep until 3, I dare say we needed it. We lunched at the same restaurant where we had the phenomenal pizza bread yesterday. We all got pizza and I downed an excellent cappuccino. Then we departed - in the rain - for the sights of the day, the first of which was to be a Tomb Memorial.

The view from the Memorial of the Colosseum, Roman Forum, and Constantine's Arch was breathtaking, but I realized halfway up the steps that camera wasn't working properly. For some reason my 1G memory card was not storing more than about ten photos. Even camera-guru Nick couldn't figure out what was going wrong. Therefore, my dear blog-readers, the photography from here on out is by my fellow travelers: Courtney, Jaimee, Jen, and Nick. I'm so lucky that they let me take copies of their photos.

We came upon a friendly little cat that lived in the Roman Forum, and we petted it for a while. After petting the kitty and admiring the Roman Forum from afar - the price to get in, we decided, was not worth walking around longer in the rain - we continued down the tourist-packed street to the Colosseum. We rented an audio tour and walked around on our own. 

The tour took us through the Colosseum beginning with the top floor and working its way down to the first. The intricacies of the building were amazing. The Colosseum, at one time, was frequently flooded for Naval battles and Swamp battles in which various different animals and warriors would be showcased - alligators, for example. Even in all of its green decay, the structure was truly something to marvel at. I couldn't help wishing that I could help in its restoration, or at least walk around in the dark and damp recesses of the lowest and unaccessible floor of the Colosseum. The only living thing - aside from moss - that was seen in this area was a young tabby cat, chasing after some irritated looking birds. Worked into our audio tour was the Arch of Constantine, which could be seen from the one side of the Colosseum. Pictured below, its beauty is hardly captured as so much of its elegance comes from miniscule details in the stone carvings covering it. 

The whole day it rained. Poor Courtney, her umbrella broke so she had to buy another for E5 off of a guy selling them in the street. Her hair ended up getting caught in that one, and it broke as I was trying to free her from its potetntially lethal grasp. (Note: Beware of umbrellas. They are frequently underestimated.)

After the Colosseum we wandered to the Pantheon.

 This famous building, hosting several masses each week, is a known piece of architecture because of two things that are usually taken for granted: the floor and the roof. 

The roof of the Pantheon is built with an enormous hole directly in the center. Opening to the heavens, it is meant to celebrate the god Jupiter. Because of this gap in the roof, the floor is angled downward from its center allowing any sort of precipitation to drain off to the sides and thus out of the circular temple.

At this point in the day, we were all needing to let our minds relax a bit. We walked out of the Pantheon and into the cloudy day, turning right and walking down a side street. We browsed shops, looking at knick-knacks and touristy things, and came upon a shop with beautiful leather purses in the window. Of course, as women - and Nick - we had to investigate. We opened the door to a brown shop. Now, when I say brown, I don't mean to give the impression that the walls were painted brown. When I say brown, I mean to say that there was so much leather in the shop that brown was all we could see. Upon further examination, though, bursts of colors from the purses we had admired through the window, and others hanging in bunches from the ceiling, assured us that we hadn't gone some sort of color-blind.

The three women who were working at the shop had made everything in it. One of them, a skinny, tanned woman, was sitting at a work table in the middle of the store pounding away at a leather belt while smoking a cigarette. I was sold. I bought a beautiful leather belt, which the same woman sized to fit my waist perfectly, for E20. Jennifer bought a pink leather rose keychain.

With a brand-new belt and pants that had no chance of falling down, I ventured with my four friends into other various shops, trying on Carnival masks. I bought a datebook for E4.50, during our first Italian mall experience, which is made of completely recycled material. Courtney almost bought an Italian leather purse for around E130, but decided not to. After having rained on and off all day, the weather got decisive and started dumping buckets of rain over the city. We almost went back to Hostel, but decided to walk to Campo de Fiori in the rain instead.

Luckily it stopped raining on the way there, affording us time to slow our pace and browse some more shops. Nick bought new hat, and Court bought another new umbrella (a sturdy one - we tested it) from a hat shop that boasted such clientele as Anthony Hopkins.

We ended our night with a simple dinner at American music-playing restaurant/pizzeria on the Campo. The Campo itself we discovered to be a major tourist trap. While quite picturesque at night, many of the bars around its edges were rather Americanized.

Walking back we kept our eyes peeled for a gelateria, but none were open.

I collapsed into my lovely down comforter after a hot shower, jotted down the happenings of the day, and closed my weary eyes for the night.

Oh Mister Sun, Sun, Mister Golden Sun...

Monday, February 9, 2009

My lamplight fills the room with a kind of pallid splendor. So much has passed since my arrival in Italia, yet it has been just barely two weeks since I’ve arrived. This morning I awoke in a bleary state at 8am to hit the snooze button on my alarm clock. When I actually woke up, at 8:15am, I readied myself for my 9am Italian class.

As my roommate had left early, I walked to class with my flat-mate, Emily. The morning was sunny – it was the first clear day we have had in some time. Not one drop of precipitation darkened my day today. It was lovely. When the sunlight happened to make its way through the gaps of Firenze’s beautiful buildings it warmed and wakened my body as if from a deep hibernation. I had missed the sun. The sunshine cleared my head and senses, and the walk to class seemed too short.

My Italian class, on Via Faenza, is in a first-floor room with two windows, only one of which is ever opened – and rarely. As Emily and I were the first to arrive in the room, and I was not wanting to miss the sunshine for one minute, I set down my things and went directly to the window to open the shutters and let in the morning. The class went by as quickly as the walk preceding it, and Emily and I parted ways as I ventured once again outside in search of my required reading.

I walked through the stone streets of Firenze, hopping onto the narrow sidewalks only when automobile traffic found its path aligned with mine. The sunshine continued to play upon my head and shoulders from time to time. I felt as if I was in a continuous hide-and-seek game with the sun. If I were to pick one bad thing about city life, it is that there is never enough sunshine. City buildings, while each beautiful and architecturally intricate in its own way, make a sun worshipper’s life quite difficult. But I am living in Firenze, and nothing can dampen my spirits. The name of this city alone is enough to stifle any complaint.

Again, the walk was far too short. I gingerly opened the door to the International Bookstore in which I was to find my first textbook, priced by my teacher at E30. Upon finding the book in the corner table of an upstairs room, I found that it was actually priced at E17,50. Excellent. I bounced on my toes as I descended the stairs to the main floor to pay. I made ready to hand the cashier lady a E20 bill, but was again surprised when she told me that, because I am a Lorenzo de’ Medici student, I get an additional discount. I ended up paying only E14,50 for what I thought would be a E30 book. ‘Grazie, ciao!’ I called, as I once again made my way onto the narrow stone sidewalk of Via Cavour, my home stretch here in beloved Firenze.

For the next book, or rather, a series of excerpts copied and bound, I had to travel a bit further down my street and to take a right onto Via Guelfa, which turns into Via degli Alfani. It was there, in number 103R, that I found my bound copies.

This shoppe was more difficult to find because of its R (Red) address number. The Red addresses here in Firenze tend to be higher up on the walls of buildings and more faded compared to the Blue residential addresses. To add to that, the outside of the establishment was mostly advertising for Wi-Fi, not photocopies (although, maybe there was something about photocopies and I just didn’t understand it). The two people working, a guy a bit older than myself who spoke broken English and an older woman who spoke none at all, were both very nice and helpful. The packet, which I had been told would be sixteen Euro, was exactly that. I left with my good mood and sunshine filled day still firmly in place, bolstered by a backpack with a few added pounds in the form of knowledge-seeping pages bound together into books. Sunshine and literature in Firenze: who wouldn’t be happy?!

At this point in my day it was about 10.45am, so I walked back to Via Cavour and took a right towards my apartment. Walking in my door I realized that nobody was home, so I unloaded things that I knew I would not need, and reloaded others that I knew I might. My bag, in the end, was a bit fuller; the opposite of my intent.

I left my apartment in all of its tranquil and empty silence and walked back to the area of town in which Lorenzo de’ Medici’s buildings were located. I met Courtney and Jaimee for lunch in the Cafeteria at 11:30. Jaimee was a bit late, so she and Courtney wound up having to wait a bit longer than I did for food (I had gotten there early). I had a panini and an iced café latte. The Cafeteria is the only place in all of Italy that actually has any sort of iced coffee drink on the menu. It is obvious that they cater to an international crowd. When I was in Rome this past weekend at a Bar, the two people working had no idea why I wanted ice in my café latte. If only I had known.

The girls and I chatted, and they left five minutes before their classes started. I stayed put at our usual table. One of eight, it is the only one conveniently located in front of the only window in the Cafeteria. The place was busy as studenti e insegnanti (students and teachers) alike were taking their lunch break. Two girls approached me and asked to sit at my table, so I made like I was just leaving and let them have it to themselves. I had been finished eating and drinking for a good venticinque minuti (25 minutes) by then, so I gathered my things and relocated down the smaller flight of stairs and to the right hallway where there are benches with desks lined up against the wall. It was much more peaceful there. I sat down and finished the Italian homework I had been working on while the girl next to me chatted away with her friend who had met her there. Just as the noise started getting to me they packed up to go, and let me in on the Internet password for the building before they departed. The gesture mended my irritation towards them for their loudness.

I sat there for a while longer, completing my homework assignments, responding to the flood of emails, and, inevitably, writing in my blog.

Perpetually late.

Friday, February 6, 2009

On this fine morning, at the wee, tiny, not-supposed-to-ever-be-seen hour of 5am, I awoke to commence Adventure Roma. Of course I hit the snooze button. You know you’re tired when you get out of bed and walk across a freezing cold tile floor just to hit the snooze button and fumble back to the warmth of your mattress – which, if you’re me, looks more like the nest of some large, alien, bird-like creature.

Of course, I made us late. No, we didn’t have the misfortune of missing our 6:40 train, but we were at least 10 minutes later in arriving at the station than we had planned. We weren’t panicked, or even rushed, per-se, but it wasn’t a good feeling when we didn’t see our destination on the black and overbearing station schedule board. I went and asked one of the TranItalia representatives, and she pointed us in the right direction. It turns out our train’s final destination was, in fact, Naples. We dragged our sleep-heavy bodies over to track seven, certified our four-seat ticket, and boarded car numero sei.

The train ride was beautiful. Misty countryside made itself ever more visible as the sun rose over Italia. The train sped towards its destination through the hills, rather than over them, plunging its passengers into darkness at the sudden appearance of a tunnel and then blinding us with the light and the breathtaking landscapes that it divulged to our bleary eyes. With the scattered houses in Tuscan Gold hues with their Tarra Cotta rooftops, and the neatly lined forms of miles of vinyards, one was almost able to ignore the popping in ones ears. The further south I traveled on that train, the more hills we passed and the more castles and ancient-dwellings. The scenery was magical, and put me into a tired trance. Try as I did, I could not stay awake. I dozed off and woke up when we were about a half hour outside of Roma.

Upon our arrival in Roma, we immediately made our way to relieve ourselves…but toilettes were E0,80. Who pays to pee? I thought, Not Americans, that’s for damn sure.

So we followed the signs that led the way to where taxis were parked outside the station and took a ride from that point to Via Boezia, Colors Hotel. We travelers, new to the sights and sensations of Rome, had no idea how to get to the Hostel from the train. The taxi driver did. He weaved the van between other vehicles, buildings, and pedestrians alike. I felt like I was in a car chase on Cops.

We checked into the Hostel, gave our passport information – Jen had to call her father in the U.S. since she hadn’t brought even a copy of her passport – and paid our dues. We then dropped our bags in Nick’s single room since our quad wouldn’t be empty until 11am and then had to be cleaned. The cleaning process would take until 1pm-ish.

Not wanting to waste a minute of our weekend in Roma, we wandered to a Trattoria for lunch/breakfast…brunch, if you will. We all got sandwiches, and I ordered an Iced Café Latte. They didn’t know what an Iced Café Latte was. I explained in simple words and they looked at me like I was crazy, but obliged. The ice was mostly melted by the time I got the drink. At least they tried.

The Vatican we found in passing il Fiume Tiber. The view from the river of the dome of the church was beautiful, as was the river itself. Steps led down to it and, upon further examination, we discovered that there was actually a walking track that went along the length of the river. We walked around the Tiber for a while, admiring its general splendor and taking pictures. Nick had a moment of inspiration during which he decided to take and assemble six huge stones into pyramid shape. He was too proud. “No one will ever do what I have just done.” I asked him if he was going to sign it in any way, or leave his mark for others to find. “No, it has to be unanimous.” He meant anonymous.

I couldn’t help but to laugh my ass off. Already, within our first three hours in Rome, I had heard the best quote of the trip. It was unanimous. Oh, Nick.

I paid for Nick to get into the Vatican because he hadn’t stopped at an ATM before we got there. We walked up the granite steps, past a giant flat-screen T.V. and various Vatican City Guards, 

make our way to see the tombs of the Popes. I felt out of place with everyone crying. I also took accidental illegal pictures of the Popes’ tombs. They post signs, but for the most part they are in a different language (Italian, who would have thought?) or poorly placed.There was one tomb in particular that I found very striking. The casket itself was a beige yellow, but the top of the tomb was a metal likening to the Pope whose body resides within it. Jaimee called it the Batman tomb. I didn’t get a picture of it because it came into view after I had figured out that I wasn't supposed to take pictures. St. Peter's Basilica was also strikingly beautiful.

We exited the tombs and got in line to climb to the very top of the Vatican church to its cupola, or dome. When we bought our tickets there was an offer to pay an extra E2 for a lift ride (elevator ride) up the first three hundred or so stairs. Who needs a lift?! We scaled the first three hundred and continued up the more than 320 steps that followed those. We came to a platform situated between all of the domes on the East side of the Vatican where we could catch our breath and take some pictures that resulted in our breath being taken away yet again.

It took another hundred or so steps to get into the actual dome where we were afforded some arial views of the inside of the church...through a fence that had probably been installed to keep people from jumping. 

 We then walked down the steps and into the actual church where we walked around more and took pictures. Some of my group prayed. I sat observing the marble sculptures around the top half of the church. Some of the people depicted - angels, i guessed them - were doing strange things like holding onto a unicorn’s horn, or holding the earth down with their foot, or pushing a dog away. One was standing on the head of a man who was holding a serpent.

We left the church, passed the poor Vatican guards who are required to dress similar to court jesters, and went around the outside wall of the Vatican city to the Vatican museum where we had to pass more body guards to enter…one winked at me. *Shrug* Inside the Vatican museums are various exhibits. They all looked very interesting, but we only walked through the Egypt exhibit and the Sistine Chapel.

The Sistine Chapel was never ending. Made of up a multitude of rooms absolutely filled wall-to-wall with fine works of art, by the time we actually made it to the Chapel we were completely exhausted. The half of the museum following the Chapel was a complete blur to my tired eyes and feet and legs and buttocks. I just wanted to lie down at that point and pass out.

I did wonder at how intricate a display the Vatican is…all for something which has not been proven to exist; the epitome of faith. It was as if I were at a shrine for Harry Potter or something – a whole lot of people into something that doesn’t necessarily exist.

We left, exhausted, and chose a path strategically leading towards our Hostel. On the way we stopped for pizza. Jaimee and I shared a Prosciutto pizza and a mozzarella and tomato salad.  I paid for Nick yet again, so at that point he owed me E14,50.

We walked a good three blocks towards the Hostel when Nick realized that he had lost his EuroRail Pass. He acted as if it didn’t even matter, but Jen suggested he go back to the restaurant and look to see if it was there. He did, and it was. He said the owner looked upset that he had actually came back for it. The guy probably wanted to take a nice vacation.

We met back up with Nick at the Hostel where we all took a three-hour nap. It was the most glorious nap ever taken in the history of mankind – 5.30pm to 8.10pm-ish. We hadn’t planned on sleeping for so long, but we also hadn’t planned on our Quad room having down comforters. Excellent.

After my nap I put makeup on my “naked” face, and we all made for the Spanish Steps, dinner, the Trajan Column, and Trevi Fountain

Steps were our first stop, where we took several corny pictures. We then hit up a pizzaria for dinner and dessert. PHENOMINAL. Home-made wheat pasta with clams mussels and prawns and Black Truffel Gelato. I would make the trip back to Rome simply to eat at this restaurant. We actually all go different desserts so that we could each try each others and it was WELL worth it. Outside we saw a Ferrari and the driver revved its engine for us. The night was shaping up to be an amazing one. What we thought was the Trajan column ended up being a replica, but we did see the Trevi fountain. When we walked up to the fountain this Indian guy gave us free roses and offered to take our pictures with our cameras...and then asked for Euro. We should have known. Another Indian guy harassed Nick and Courtney - yet another asked me for a kiss and asked Jen if she was Chinese (duh). The men were all from Mumbai, India...and they were really quite obnoxious.

We escaped the onslaught of crazy Indian dudes and made it back to the Steps. As we gazed upon the gorgeous expanse of Rome, we thought how nice it would be to have a bottle of wine to share between the five of us, but we hadn't seen any open shops on the way there. We decided we would go back tomorrow to drink and hang out on the Spanish Steps all night.

The sky was clearing around 1am, and the view from the top of the Steps was indescribable. I felt as if my life was spread out before me in the form of a beautifully aged city; felt like the world was just waiting for me and that if I reached just a bit further I could grasp the stars that were strewn across that captivating night sky. Walking back, we passed fountains and the Fiorne Tiber.

I fell asleep to the sound of revving engines on the street outside.

Tomorrow: Apple store, campo di fiori, colosseum, roman forum, etc. Lunch at the same place we ate dinner, dinner @ campo di fiori, and wine on the Steps.

I finally fell asleep at 3am

Bruschetta (pronounced Bruce-kehttah)

Thursday, February 5, 2009

I woke up to a cloudy sky and wet ground. It was raining again. I had set my alarm for eight am, but found it particularly difficult to rise that early with no class ahead of me today. I rolled out of my lovely warm mess of covers and stretched out my sore body. There is most certainly something to be said for walking everywhere with a heavy bookbag slung over your shoulders.

I washed up and readied myself for the day, taking care to strategically aim the showerhead so that the bathroom wouldn’t flood. Showers in Firenze, from what I have experienced, are all very shallow. The reservoir in which one stands to wash is at most two inches deep, and the showers themselves at most 3x3feet. With such a little amount of workspace it is very difficult to keep all of the water inside of the darn things. The first week that my roommates and I lived here in Firenze our bathroom was flooded almost every night.

I met Jaimee at noon at Student Point to apply for our Permit to Stay. I got there early and did my thing and then went on the internet to wait for her. When she had gotten her paperwork done, we both went to talk to my advisor, Elena, about where we should buy our tickets to Rome. We knew that we should probably get them at the train station so our credit cards wouldn’t accidentally be charged extra online, and so that we wouldn’t have to worry about finding a printer to print our ticket, but we weren’t sure as to where that station was. She showed pointed out the largest building on my map of Firenze, and we both, Jaimee and I, felt slightly silly.

Since I was there I also inquired as to whether or not I had been granted permission to switch out of Philosophy of Magic and into an Italian Foods class. Elena’s face lit up as she told me excitedly that she had just gotten my paperwork from the office and that the transfer did go through. Luckily there had been space enough for me to switch into a Foods class. No more Philosophy of Magic! I could have danced.

But instead I went with Jaimee and Nick, whom we met up with in the street, to buy a new straightener.

Later on that day we had all made plans to meet up for a free wine tasting that Courtney had found out about from one of her teachers. However, Nick wound up, when trying to reserve a train ticket, getting lost…and he has refused to buy a cell phone. Sigh. Needless to say, he was not at his apartment when Jaimee, Court and I went to get him, so Noah and Steven, his two roommates, joined us for free wine and bruschetta instead. Jennifer met us at the wine tasting place also. We sat for a good hour and a half just getting to know each other better. I learned that Bruschetta is actually said wrong by Americans. It is properly pronounced Bruce-kettah. Then we all went for gelato, which was – as always – delicious.

Afterwards we decided to go to the guys’ apartment to play Catchphrase and drink wine. I have never had more fun playing a game than that night. The majority of the time was spent by Nick trying to win and getting angry when he didn’t. Steven, on the other hand, was new to the game and it showed. Every time he got a turn he would start off by telling a story to give clues to his word, but all of the stories mysteriously began with a guy at a bar with a girl. Once, when he had the word ‘surprised’ he tried to get his teammates to guess it by saying ‘So…you’re at a bar with a girl, and you leave, and then you go to turn a corner and a guy jumps out and you __*wild gesture*__.’ Nobody got it. So then he tried ‘so you come out of a SUPERmarket and someone jumps at you and you get __*another wild gesture*__.’ HILARIOUS.

 By the end Steve really did improve a lot, though, whether as a result of the wine or as a result of practice, we’ll never know. Nick just got more and more drunk and therefore more and more competitive, neither of which go well with losing almost every game! The guys finally conceded that they would not win against the girls and we all decided to go for pizza. Our friend Kat met us there. Courtney and I walked home afterwards to pack for the next morning – and Roma.

Meditating on Symbols

Wednesday, February 4, 2009

This morning two men came to our flat, an old but newly renovated space, to install Internet. For some reason the installation for our flat was more difficult because of its location. I didn't ask for specifics. They gave us a free trial 48hours which was nice. I was considering paying to have internet…until they said that it was 96Euro/month. Too steep for a level-walker such as myself.

I had class at 9, and afterwards I went for the first time to Lorenzo de' Medici's Cafeteria with my roommate and classmate, Emily.  I was able to get an iced caffe latte and Panini, which would normally be at least E4.50 for only E3.90. What a deal!

Afterwards I had class at noon: Italian Grand Tour: Italy Through The Eyes of Famous Explorers. I loved all of my classes that I had been to at that point, but I still think that this is my second favorite class - my first being Web Design I.

Next was Philosophy of magic at 3pm. Philosophy of Magic is a class that I could describe as a complete joke. The teacher utilized the first half hour by giving her description of the course, which, in truth, consisted of her saying the same main point over and over in different ways. She probably felt like her translation was wrong or something, which makes me feel bad, but it really did get tiresome. She sent around a piece of paper for us to sign up on with our names, dates and times of birth, and email addresses. After she felt like she had drilled her course description into our skulls - and when the whole class looked fit for a nap - she went on to explain different astrological signs and what they meant and what planets corresponded to them. At this point I was seriously doubting the legitimacy of the subject. She explained that throughout the semester we would be learning how to read birth charts and how to tell what people may or may not be like based upon their birth chart. Completely interpretational - so it made me seriously wonder how on earth she could grade us on this. 

The teacher actually had us meditate. Now I'm all for a good meditation session, but what she asked us to do made no sense to me. She told us to close our eyes and think about the symbols that represent our astrological signs and their planets (pictured above) in a big circle. That's all she told us. So I'm sitting there in class, trying not to fall asleep, all the while listening to our teacher sitting on her desk texting, wondering what the hell I was doing this for. How can I meditate on shapes? What the hell was the point? Give me a book to read or a language to learn or a foreign land to explore, not this interpretational, superstitious cock-and-bull! The meditation – not surprisingly – did absolutely nothing to relax me because I was so peeved at what the teacher had asked us to do. Needless to say, when we all were called from our 'meditation' the teacher asked us what we had seen or felt…and nobody said anything. When she finally was able to pull some sort of response from the class, she got comments like 'I felt like I was falling, and then I had to open my eyes.' All I could think was 'well yeah, dummy, that's called falling asleep!'

I was glad to get out of that class, and glad also that I had previously made the decision to apply to switch from that class to an Italian Food class. Call it fate. I went home to cook some dinner. From my fridge I pulled out a pressure-sealed package of mixed seafood floating with olives and peppers in olive oil that I had bought at the supermarket. I decided I would skip trying to decipher the Italian on the back of the package and just pan-fry the contents in the oil in which they were chilling. Talk about unfortunate events – mid-fry I wound up experiencing the hot-end of a mini oil explosion from one of the pieces of frying food. The feeling of burned flesh invigorated me, truly. Maybe I’m a pain addict. I really did feel alive.

After dinner I showered and used the rest of my barely-conscious brain power to write in my blog. When I got up to get a drink of water before passing out, I walked into my kitchen to see Courtney, Jaimee, and Jennifer sitting at the table. We chatted for a bit, planned our trip to Rome, and then I finally went to bed.

Totally raw.

Tuesday, February 3^rd, 2009

It is 3:20pm, and I have just met my upstairs neighbors…kindof. I was laying on my bed studying my Italian when I happened to look out and up to see two guys in their kitchen, looking at me and talking animatedly. Hilarious. I waved at them and they waved back. I’m sure it is the start of a wonderful neighborship.

I don’t have class until 6pm on Tuesdays, so last night I stayed up late writing in my journal and studying. Although I had planned on waking up at 7am to shower and…well, just to be awake, I turned off my alarm clock while I was half-asleep and then dozed off again. I didn’t wake up until I heard my roommate moving around at about 10:45am, so I got up and took a shower. Luckily, my clothes were dry from their wash in the bathtub on Sunday, so I dressed quickly to keep my body warmth in, and had my daily dose of yogurt and fruit.

I was writing in my journal again, finishing my thoughts from last night, when my roommate came in and we both agreed to an adventure to the marketplace to buy our groceries. One neat thing about Firenze is that the food here doesn’t have the same preservatives and such as the food does in the U.S. This is all at once a good and a bad thing. The lack of preservatives makes it necessary to buy groceries more often but it is nice to have fresh fruit and vegetables around. I had yet to find a protein source to keep in my apartment except for my mozzarella cheese stash, so I was eager to see what they had by way of fish at the market.

We left the apartment at about noon, knowing only the general direction in which the market was. We wandered for about a half an hour – in the rain, mind you – until we finally found it. Then there was the trick of finding the right entrance, but, as we are such amazing explorers, we did so in no time.

The market was a feast for the senses. The pungent smell of fish was the first to hit the nostrils, quickly followed by the odor of moist produce and red meats. I had never seen anything so fresh in my life. Kilos upon Kilos of fish on ice, shrimp, whole hares skinned and gutted, mounds of ribs and other cuts of flesh unidentifiable by me; whole chickens and roosters plucked and contorted in a way that made my neck hurt, octopus and calamari heaped on ice. It wasn’t until I passed by a booth with Cow’s nose and tongue and pig feet and ears that I had come to the realization that this was the coolest place in all of Firenze. I suddenly wanted to be on an episode of Bizarre Foods with Andrew Zimmern or No Reservations with Anthony Bourdain – my heroes. Oh the amazing foods they could introduce me to in this market alone. A woman walked past us munching on a pig ear. Gross to some, awesome to me. 

It reminded me of when I visited my friend and ex-roommate, Heather, in Boston while she was studying there. We had gone out to eat at an Italian restaurant in North End and had ordered grilled Octopus for our appetizer to be adventurous. We both tried it, but I was the one who ended up eating most of it. I'm glad that Heather will at least humor the thought of strange food. Courtney is the same way, but we were completely overwhelmed at this point.

As we wandered through the labyrinth of stalls, half empty at 1pm, we became more and more in awe of what we were seeing. Americans have no idea what they are missing! I would bet that more than two-thirds of the population of the United States has never seen their food as raw as this - as pure as this - before. We walked and walked and finally left for the Supermarket. I concluded that I would have to find a true Florentine to show me around and help me understand the market. I vow to find one.

We went to the Supermarket conveniently located by our apartment and picked up some essentials. For me, that meant yogurt, cheese, roasted red peppers, corn, tomatoes, and a strangely packaged mixture of seafood which I will probably cook Wednesday night for dinner on a salad. Then we both went and ordered bread to go, “Uno pane rossa, per favore,” I said, and was given a pizza-style ciabatta. I heated it in a pan on the stove when we got back to the apartment and it then served as my lunch. Delicious! And now I know how to order bread at the market!

When we return from Rome this weekend, Courtney and I will probably head back to the big market for eggs and bread and maybe some meat. After comparing the prices between the Supermarket and the main one, it turns out that fresher is also cheaper. Who’d’ve thunk? (actually this makes sense since you cut out the middle man)(that sounds violent - I'm not a violent shopper, I promise)

After our trip to the market we hung out at the apartment and read or wrote in our journals. When five o’clock came around my cell-phone alarm clock went off and signaled my needing to get ready for my six o’clock class: Globalization and its Consequences. I packed my bag, double-checked where in this labyrinthine city the correct building was located, and began my walk through the rain.

Of course I arrived early. The old Lemont High School Band mantra: On time is late, early is on time, will always ring true for me – although I have faithfully made both myself and my friends late every time we have gone somewhere as a group. Very unlike me. I chose a seat at the front of the room, my typical choice, and got out my pencil and notebook. The class started five minutes late.

The teacher handed out syllabi and we all took part in reading aloud brief paragraphs meant to describe the course to us, but which only further confused us for the painful translation of Italian to English. The teacher continued on to give her own explanation of the course, and we all went around the room to introduce ourselves, our majors, our programs, where we were from, and why we took the course. We took a break. It goes with the culture entirely to have a two and a half hour class with a fifteen minute break in the middle. I have noticed that in most of my classes, the break is utilized mostly by the teachers, who have a rather set-in habit of making it their smoke-break.

At any rate, when the break was over we got down to the nitty gritty of Globalization and its Consequences. That is to say, we began the class. The teacher explained to us that she had read an article recently about how a certain group of people in a certain city (all of this information was both irrelevant to her and impossible to remember) in a certain country in Europe had a problem with theme parks being built by Americans in different countries because they saw it as globalization; as American profiteers further trying to take over the world with cheap fun and outrageous funnel cake. What my teacher asked us to compare it to in groups, however, is whether or not this should be a problem for these people, or whether it is something similar to Italian restaurants being everywhere in the world and Jupiter? Is one measly amusement park really going to make that much of a difference in a culture?

What I decided – and ultimately my group – was that it really should not be a problem to the group of people in the not-the-U.S.A. country. When it really comes down to it, if they want to avoid globalization, then they should do as a town in Italy has already done and pass a law that says that only authentic native food can be sold in major tourist and metropolitan areas. But even if they do that, will it even solve their so-called problem? The town in Italy that has actually executed this motion passed a law saying that there could not be any Cabob restaurants or stands in the downtown area of the town. Furthermore it sent law enforcement officials to notify the business owners that they no longer were allowed to have their establishments in the locations where they resided. Personally, I think this is ludicrous. It is one thing to encourage Italian Restaurant business to flourish in a certain area, but a whole other thing to essentially expel any business that doesn’t fit that mold. How would you feel if out of nowhere you were told that the business that you have built from absolutely nothing was not allowed simply because it depicted your own culture as opposed to the one which dominates the place where your business resides? I feel that the whole situation can be directly compared to W.W. II when Nazi Germany mass-executed the Jewish people with the aim of purifying their race and therefore culture. Is it really all that different? No.

Of course the theme park to restaurant example is nowhere near as horrible as W.W. II, but it really does represent the same idea. To try to cut off any type of globalization is to try to cut off what is all too natural for our human race. We were not genetically created to stay in one place. We have been wired to be curious, wired to be questioning, wired to be different, and, most of all, we have been wired to communicate ideas and customs, and have been programmed to be able to adapt to strange places and traditions. We are meant to evolve, whether physically or mentally, and globalization – the sharing of everything we hold dear as individual cultures – is how this is able to take place. In the end, the situation which my teacher described – the certain group of people in a certain city in a certain country in Europe – could not be properly analyzed unless I read it myself. Whether or not a theme park should be offensive to the people who were mentioned in the column has to do with so many factors: the age of the country, its history, the type of theme park, the theme park’s proposed location, the age and race and gender of the people who actually have the problem with theme parks in the first place. Ultimately, if a theme park were to be built, its success directly depends on whether or not the people want it. If it truly is a problem, it will get no business…and it will fail.

Sigh. It was a long class.

Afterwards I traipsed home through the market in the rain to a dinner that consisted of a salad, tomatoes with mayonnaise (a Japanese, Italian, and South American habit apparently), and – because of a severe sweet tooth attack – an apple.  It became aware to me then just how different my diet has become while here in Italy. Everything is fresh and has less preservatives so it is easier to digest. Furthermore, I really don’t buy any carbs to speak of except for a very little amount of bread and any sort of mayo or pesto I use on my salads or sandwiches. No salad dressings, no frozen dinners or pizzas, no sweets, just good food. It helps that I only have to really buy food for about four days at a time. I have class Monday through Wednesday and then typically only stay for Thursday before I am off and traveling again.

After dinner I wrote a bit and read a bit until my roommate got home. She and her friends were sitting in the kitchen talking and I could hear them all the way in my room. Granted, our place isn’t that big, but it never fails to astound me just how easily sound travels in these old buildings. I went into the kitchen to say hi and get myself a drink of water before bed. Our friend Kat pulled off the hood she was wearing to reveal that she had shaved her head! Talk about something unexpected! She said that she had simply always wanted to do it and felt that it was the ‘right time’ to shave her head the night before. She described being bald in the rain as ‘like sitting under a tin roof.’ I don’t think I could ever just up and shave my head. Who knows what my scalp looks like? For all I know I have craters half an inch deep and birthmarks that spell out a cuss word or derogatory statement. I wouldn’t want to take that chance.

With Kat at the table was my roommate, Courtney, and our other two friends Jaimee and Jennifer. We got to talking about our different classes and Kat said that her Italian Wine and Food class was her favorite. She described her first class as a really fun one, during which she tried four different types of wine and cooked dishes that were appropriate for each. After learning how to properly taste and evaluate a wine, and then eat it with its proper paired food, she said that she experienced an veritable, ‘Explosion in [her] mouth.’

After a statement like that I’m eager to try my wine tasting skills that I learned at wine training at The Medici in Normal with a real Italian dinner.

Speaking of which, Jaimee, Jen, Courtney and I all agreed on dinner tomorrow to talk about Rome and to figure out where and when to buy our train tickets. Jaimee and Jen said they had heard of a hostel that was only 18 Euro a night, so we planned to look into that also.

We somehow got onto the topic of dating and Kat said that she had discovered a significant generation gap between people seven years older than us and seven years younger. I mentioned that I had dated someone about ten years older than myself and didn’t find any problems at all when it came down to being raised in a different generation. I think that it just presented more to talk about, more to discover about the other person. When it comes down to it, compatibility probably played more of a factor in Kat’s previous relationship.

The girls left and Courtney and I went to bed. We wound up talking for another hour or so. It turns out that Courtney, who is a cooking enthusiast, wants to open her own catering business with her business degree and hopefully a degree from a culinary school. Right now she works at a bank investigating charges made to certain accounts. She is one of the people who makes sure to freeze your card if it is suddenly making charges in South Africa and you live in Pittsburgh. She said she really likes it. Might just stay working there if the catering deal doesn’t work out. I think that if she does go to  culinary school in N.Y.C. she won’t be able to look back. That girl’s got enough smarts and drive to start up a multi-million dollar business. Mark my words. At one point she wanted to be OBGYN but she decided that the lifestyle was just not suitable for a family. It’s amazing the things you find out about a person when rooming together. I miss midnight chats with my long-lost Boston-wannabe roommate, Heather. We had some good times.

I fell asleep to classical guitar. Oh to be a Florentine.