13,153 Gifts

13,153, that is a low approximation of the number of miles I traveled on this trip.  Almost 3,000 of those were just inside of Italy (the other 10 were obviously hopping that big ole pond)That number does not include walking tours, trips to the grocery store, walks to class, to visit friends, “giro” (the aimless wander) and a variety of other activities on foot.  That is just getting to and from various destinations.  And that is the way I want to think of each mile, as a gift.

Italy has given me many gifts, many of them flashbulb memories, and moments I will cherish forever.  Some of the gifts are lessons though, lessons that I think everyone would benefit from learning. 

The ability to taste life.  Italians have this wonderful food culture that I just love.  Meals are a time to relax, enjoy, and taste the wonderfulness on your plate.  This focus on slowing down to savor has permeated my Italian experience.  It’s not about eating to be full or fed, it’s tasting the food going into your mouth.  What an incredible gift we have to have food in front of us at all.  I have been so blessed in my life, and I want to experience each of them to the very fullest.  Each thing has its own flavor and feeling, something that makes it unique.   There is something to be said for this slower pace, the appreciation of the beauty, something that I feel I have missed for a long time.

Simplicity.  Once again a thought process that starts out centered on food.  When I came, I expected Italian cooking to be elaborate, complex and of course totally delicious.  I was slightly shocked to find out how simple much of it was.  In our cooking classes with Marc, he often talked about how an entire recipe was designed to bring out one specific flavor, or enhance a particular ingredient.  But to my surprise, Italian cooking was often quite simple a few staple ingredients, and then your star flavor. I have found so many simple pleasures here: the taste of a cup of coffee, the view from my bedroom window, the smell of fresh pasta, music in the streets, Christmas lights….

Patience.  Italy has taught me patience by way of example.  First off, there are the Italian lines, in post office, and at coffee counters.  To the outside observer (and often to participants) there is no discernable line.  Basically, you have to trust that the person you are waiting for has kept decent track of who arrived first.  When I first got here, this system made me quite anxious, and if I had experienced it in the US I probably would have been quite irritated.  But when I did finally get to the “front” I can’t express enough how much I appreciated people who were patient with me while trying to speak Italian.  There were many days where I really had no idea what I was trying to ask for… or if I did, when I tried to speak nothing really came out right, words would blur together, my pronunciation was terrible… and sometimes (especially early on) I spoke Spanish instead, unintentionally, but it was what came first naturally.  Although there were a few people that waved their hands at me in frustration, many of them would wait for me to figure something out, and help me.  That is something that I want to work on in my own life.   Waiting and listening to people, so that I can try to help them.  Also, noticing that person that is obviously a bit lost, and offering them some help the best I can.  Because I have been that person, the one who is ever so lost and confused… And there have been people around to help me out.

The Family Meal.  I feel like so many Americans get caught up in the craziness of their daily lives, their hectic 24-7 schedules that the importance of the family meal has been lost.   There are some organizations that are trying to bring Americans back to the table.  My family growing up tried to eat dinner together every night, but as my brother and I grew up, it got harder to get everyone around the table, for just one meal a week because were all so busy. 

There are also things from my own life that I would like to share with Italy. 

One thing is smiles in the street.  It is one cultural difference that took me a long time to get used to, and three and a half months later, it still gets to me on occasion.  There is something really wonderful about getting smiled at by a random passerby.  Sometimes it is just what you need to get through the next chunk of the day.  To me, it is a nice interaction between members of the planet acknowledging that they share the same space.   A pleasant acknowledgement of shared existence.  The world emphasizes the importance of the first impression, and for an American coming in, the first impression of Italians makes them seem cold, distant and unfriendly.  If you pay attention, you learn that this isn’t the case, but it can be hard to push past that initial barrier. 

Another gift I would give the Italians is a word for home.   I didn’t ever hear a word used that offered the same warmth as implied with the English home.  It was incredibly interesting to me because of the strong emphasis on the nuclear family in Italy, there would not be a word to differentiate that commonly used.  Not only do the Italians have strong familial ties, but they also have an intense pride for their cities and regions.   The word paese, which means country can be used for cities as well.  But this has a different connotation to me than hometown.  There is a powerful connection, straight to the heart that goes with those words.  I don’t doubt that the feelings are there, just like they are here, but I just wish there were words to describe them.  Like the way that the Eskimos had so many words for snow, and the Egyptians for sand, when something is so omnipresent in a culture, there should be words to describe it. 

There are some creature comforts that I have missed while I have been here, but nothing that is truly vital to my survival (as proved by the fact that I am still living), and they aren’t necessarily applicable to the country as whole. Yet another reminder that I can live more simply.

Honestly, I am not sure what gifts I would give to Italians, because one thing that I have been reminded of on this trip is that we are all people, no matter what part of the world we live in.  We want the same things, to be happy, to be loved, and to get the most out of life.  That means something a little different to every person.  I think I might also give them a little bit of optimism.  Many of the Italians I have gotten to know seem to be very happy people, yet there is this sort of cloud of pessimism, “the weight of history” that they carry around.  America’s short history has its dark moments as well, but we either forget them, or remember the triumph that followed.  I think that remembering that you can make it through is much better than forgetting any part of history.  Their history has made them much stronger (even if only in spirit) than many other nations, and I think that sense of pride is something that would be good for the Italian people. 

So now where does that really leave me?  I don’t actually know.  It leaves me craving to see more of the world, exist in it more deeply than I do now.  I want to explore, take flight without ever losing my roots.  (Perhaps a trip to the Netherlands to explore my roots more deeply)  It leaves me incredibly and profoundly grateful for a life that God has given which is more beautiful than I could have imagined.  Grateful for nearly four months of my life where I could watch the sunset over the Sibylline Mountains from my bedroom window.  The chance to have the taste of a new language on my tongue.  It leaves me a little wiser (I think), and knowing a bit more about myself, what my real needs are, and some things about who I really am.  It leaves me counting my blessings.  And the best gift of all, was the family and friends I have come home to, as if I had never left.  Plus, I have a new set of friends that I made while I was away.  I have a lot of things I am working towards, but I look forward to accepting each day as a new adventure, even the days in Alma. 

Adventure is out there.

54t Things I Learned in Italia

1)   how to order Gelato

2)   That carbonara is amazing.

3)   Gniocchi is amazing.

4)   The title of my blog is grammatically incorrect in Italian, it should read, “Le Avventure Italiane di Annalisa”

5)   How to navigate Macerata, based on the visibility of a couple domes, and some other landmarks. 

6)   How to take the bus… but I really only know how to get to one destination, but I know 2 lines to get there.

7)   Even if they elbow you in the street on market day, little old Italian women are great to ask for direction from.

8)   There are lots of genuinely nice people in the world, even if you don’t speak the same language, sometimes even more so then.

9)   The watermark was invented by the papermakers of Fabriano, Italy.

10)  The sound of church bells is one of my favorite sounds in the entire world.

11)  Maga Cacao hot chocolate, aka cioccolato in tazza, which translates to chocolate in a cup, is one of the most incredible inventions ever.

12) The Latin word ortho means straight…. Orthodontist? Lightbulb moment.

13)  I have an obsession with inlaid wood, marble and the like.  Also with mosaics.  I love them.

14)  Carmina Burana means “songs of Beuren” and they were drinking songs written by German students, and later compiled into an opera.

15)  The peacock was an early symbol for the church.

16)  I still don’t really like fish, even when prepared by an expert chef.

17)    I love rainbows.  And I wish Michigan got them more. 

18)  I love mountains, this is not really new, but just a reminder.  I love them, like really a lot.

19)   You can take the kid out of the 90s, but you can’t take the 90s out of the kid.

20)   The world according to Filiberto is so much more interesting.

21)   I have the family chocolate chip cookie recipe memorized.

22)   They do not sell vanilla extract, here and aroma of vanilla is not an acceptable substitute.

23)   Making tiramisu without a hand mixer will work muscles you did not even know you had… especially the part where you WHIP cream by hand.

24)  If you want to take a bus to a chocolate festival, buy your ticket in advance.

25)  Italians psychically know if a train is late, or if it has been for some reason changed to a bus, changed platforms, or some other such nonsense that is not shown on the arrival and departure screens.

26)    I could be German, Polish or Italian, all of which I have been mistaken for.

27)    I love tea with milk and sugar.

28)    The Bologna train station is like a maze…

29)   Someday I will learn to play accordion, potentially before I learn to play the harp, which I am also going to learn.

30)    Roasted chestnuts are delicious, I will also learn to make these.

31)    There is such a thing as a reversible bench.

32)     Much as I love Italian food, I love the variety of food available in the US.

33)    The cathedral of Milan took almost 600 years to complete, and there is a slang term “fabrica del duom” which means basically “the building of the cathedral” for a project that is going nowhere fast…

34)   Under certain circumstances, I can tolerate the taste of mushrooms.

35)   You can boil the peels of Clementine’s to make tea.

36)    When you don’t have a good way to communicate, it is quite nerve-wracking to have a loved one coming across the peninsula who doesn’t speak the language, even if you have tried to prepare them the best you could…

37)   There’s nothing like sharing your one of your favorite places with one of you favorite people.

38)   Michigan is the true mitten, but Italy is the true boot, and I do best in places where i can use my body as a geographic reference.

39)   After almost four months I still second guess myself when I look at a clock and see 18:00, and so on.  I feel like Henry Blake on M*A*S*H, “Isn’t it just normal until noon, and then you start all that hundred hours stuff???”

40)    It takes 463 stairs to get to the top of the dome of the Cathedral in Florence, but there are 320 stairs to the top of the Dome at St. Peter’s AFTER you take an elevator ride. 

41)    The cathedral of Florence was built to match the proportions of the temple in Jerusalem.

42)    Fruit is often symbolic of death in Renaissance art, because fruit picked from the tree will rot and die.

43)  Saint George slayed a dragon to save a princess.

44)  If a Vestal Virgin broke her vows in the Roman times, she would be walled in, and starved. 

45)  There was a cattle market along the Tiber River in Rome, and every night they pushed the manure into the river… not sanitary guys…

46)   A pinecone has also been used a symbol of the church, because it is a fruit with many seeds.

47)    I realized the depth of my obsession with Audrey Hepburn by my level of excitement at going to the Mouth of Truth, knowing she stood in that very spot.

48)  The first world wide radio station was the Vatican channel, and it was set up by Marconi himself.

49)  Street performers really brighten my day.

50)  Crowded buses can make for some great stories, once you are off them…

51)    Margherita pizza is actually named after an Italian queen.

52)    On some early harpsichord and piano keyboards, the black and white keys are reversed, and it is a lot trippier to me than I expected. 

53)    Steinway would give you their instruments for free, if you played a concert on them, and this is how they got their name out, but until WWI the instruments were durable, but the sound quality was bad.  

54) At the end of the day, what really matters is the time you spend with those you love.

Last Days in Italy for now...

***Warning:  This is a long post, I had a lot to say **

Sitting on the train to Rome right now, and I honestly cannot believe that for the past 105 days, I Have been living in Italy.  Not just visiting, but living.  This experience has been like nothing else, and though I plan to travel again, nothing will ever be the same as this.  One of our professors told us that even if we came back to Macerata as a group, it would not be the same, because we wouldn’t greet Macerata with the same eyes as our first moments (and months) here.  This experience changed all of us, even the people who had studied abroad before.  In many ways, I have refined who I am, and what I want out of life, but sometimes I feel like I have no idea how to process everything that I have taken in. 

My last week in Macerata flew by.   Monday we had the last of our classes, and Tuesday I had 2 final exams.  Tuesday night, I went over to Giulia’s apartment and we baked a Sachretorte, which is a delicious chocolate cake with a marmalade filling.  While we were baking, I helped her decorate the Christmas tree and we listened to Christmas music and opera music.  It was like the best girl’s night ever, especially when the cake was finally done and we got to eat it.   Wednesday, I made my last rounds around the Macerata market, and I walked through the entire thing.  I had my last final for music history on Thursday, so I did my best to do some studying, but cleaning the apartment, walking around town with Lisa, and beginning to pack seemed like such better options.  That night, there was a concert at the same small concert hall that I went to before.  It was a piano concert, with Chopin, Debussy, and others, and it was lovely.   There were several of us AHA American kids there, and we decided to get front row seats.  From my seat I could see the hammers reflected in the deep black cover of the piano, which was quite cool.  There was an older Italian man who was also sitting in the front row, the only Italian there, and he was talking to one of us.  He said that we all had very particular eyes, not necessarily that they were prettier than others, but they were so open and curious, and he felt that he didn’t see that in the eyes of European kids. 

After the concert, we started out towards Maga Cacao… but they were quite busy and we had eight people, so we headed to Pathos instead.  We hung out there for a while, I got tiramisu (trying to soak that up while I can) and then headed home, since I a handful of us had our last exam the next day.  I felt ok going out to the concert since my last exam was Music History, so I felt that going to such a musical performance would actually be studying in some way…

So Thursday, I took that last exam and really started working on packing and cleaning.  Thursday night was our farewell dinner, at the Trattoria da Ezio, where we had our welcome dinner back in September.  Before dinner, Erin, Carlye and I started playing dress up, thoroughly discussing the pros and cons of particular accessories, and helping each other with make up and such things.  Then we set the timer on my camera and took some family photos.  While we were in the process of taking pictures, our bell rang and it was Chelsea, who came up and took a few photos for us, and then a few with us, before we had to run out the door and down the street to dinner.  Dinner, was of course just as delicious as we had hoped and imagined.  Hand made pasta, grilled chicken, the best eggplant on the planet, roasted potatoes, and a red spumante.  There was also pannetone for dessert, which is a cake that is traditionally prepared in Italy around Christmas.  They are narrow and quite tall, and you can buy them everywhere starting right around December 1.  At dinner, a few people gave little speeches, and there were lots of tears, but also plenty of laughs and hugs to go with them.  Marc and Gina did a wonderful little awards ceremony, and everyone got an award and a small memento.  Erin, Lisa and I got awards for being Sweet and Quiet (proof that I do know how to behave at least sometimes if the professors think I am quiet…) But my little memento is a small notebook with butterflies on it, because Gina knows that I never leave the house without one, since I am almost always wearing my high school class ring with butterflies on one side and dancers on the other)  Filiberto and Angelica gave us a bottle of olive oil.  Filiberto owns an olive grove, and traditionally fall students get to go pick olives there, but this year the weather did not agree with our schedule (prime time happened during our 10 day break.   But the label says “Olio Nostro” which means “Our Oil” and I plan to only use it for something very special… and save the bottle forever. 

After dinner, lots of the students went out to all the favorite haunts from the semester, one last final hurrah.   The teacher of the beginning Italian class, joined us for the first couple stops, and some of the first tearful goodbyes happened when she left. 

Friday, I spent much of the day packing and cleaning, but met up with some friends and hung out for a while too.  Friday night, I made dinner with Lisa and Chelsea, and then met up with Giulia to se her before I left.  We got gelato and chatted about life, I am going to miss that girl, but I will see her again someday, I just know it.  Perhaps when she comes to visit…

After hanging out with Giulia, it was time for a midnight trip to Maga Cacao.  They close at 2 AM, and I have gone there and left at midnight before but never arrived at midnight.  So, Lisa, Erin and I went and got some awesome hot chocolates to top off our trip.  I got a dark chocolate with fresh pineapple pieces, and it was fantastic. 

Have finally made it to Gate G-12… as far as where I am sitting goes.  Can’t wait to tell you about the process of getting here.  But that will be a few minutes, so Read On McDuff!   (My apologies for any oddities in the following half of the entry… In the past 24 hours I have had 4.5 hours of sleep in a real bed, a few on a train, and a couple naps in an airport café, head on table style)

So after returning from Maga Cacao, Erin gave me a little Christmas gift, a pair of super cute earrings, and a very small owl figurine, but not just any owl figurine, an owl figurine that is a representation of my future self, because it is playing accordion.  His name is Marco Rossi, and he is adorable. 

It was also particularly windy that night, and the wind was “wuthering” according to Erin, mostly because there are too few opportunities to use that lovely word, but viciously howling, menacing and powerful, is more how I felt about it… but maybe that is just me.  It pulled one of our shutters that was secured in its open position out, so it was swinging free, and banging into things…. So Erin and I had to open the window and try to secure it in its closed position, which was quite an adventure, for sure.  But we were successful, and no other shudders blew open that night, and our neighborlady who has a multitude of plats that are perched rather precariously outside her window didn’t lose any!    But, Erin and I stayed up until 3:30 talking and listening to the wind, and I woke up around 8 to finish cleaning and packing on Saturday.  Which I did manage to successfully do.  So then Lisa, Chelsea and I walked around the Saturday Market, and Lisa bought herself a beautiful of leather wing tip heels.  Then, we helped Chelea haul her three very, very large, very, very full bags down to the train station, since it is only a couple blocks for her.  There there were several students taking that train to Rome, including Erin and Carlye, and so there were lots of hugs as AHA kids overtook the train platform.   Many of the kids on the train had people there to help them carry their bags… and one of the helpers got on the train with the bag she was carrying, and did not hop off in time, and the train left…. I still don’t know quite how she handled that one, but Lisa, Matty and I could see her face when the train started to move, and I have to say it was rather priceless.

Another brief interjection, I just witnessed a lovely moment sitting here at Gate 12.  Somethings Nevere change no matter what your language barriers are, and a couple of airline workers were trying to communicate to a handicapped woman and her 10 year old granddaughter that her suitcase was too big for the overhead bin and would have to be stowed.  The woman did not speak Italian or English, and the airline employee was simply repeating “Big. Grande.”  And this was going nowhere, and then a woman also sitting near me says, “Excuse me, I speak Arabic” (which would be the language I was hearing that I could not place) and proceeds to translate for them.  I love it when we can all help each other out.

After dropping Chelsea off, Lisa and I went to try a new restaurant, one that I have always kind of wanted to try, but was afraid it was too expensive.  It is tucked up next to the wall, with a gated courtyard in front of it.  To get to it, you have to walk under a big arch (and currently scaffolding for restoration work)  and through the “courtyard,”  I use the “ ------“ because there is not any vegetation in this courtyard just a large empty area surrounded by walls, but no roof.

Lunch was incredible.  We walked in and there was a group of people standing around chatting in the middle of the restaurant, never sure whether we should seat ourselves or not, we just stood awkwardly until someone took notice of us, which is usually an effective technique.  I swear Italians are born with this innate sense of what to do and where to go, and what everything means, not something that I have been able to pick up in my 3.5 months.  We soon figured out that we were the only people in the restaurant that were not regulars, which is perhaps why the members of the crowd laughed and lit up when they saw us, they dispersed and made way for us to pick a table.  A short while later, the woman in charge arrived, and she listed off the options of the day.  This is always a good sign.  There is no written menu, only what she felt like making today.  We both opted for a ravioli with spinach and speck, and oh my lanta was that a good choice.  It came in this sauce that was like a buttery gravy, there really is no way to describe it, but it was so terribly delicious, we both sopped it up ith the remainder of the bread basket.  Then the woman returned to offer us an out of this world delicious, freshmade this morning tiramisu (and that is how she described it by the way) And of course how could you resist such an offer?

The saga continues now with another change in my writing venue.  Now seated on my final plane, on the tarmac in Atlanta.  We are delayed about 15 minutes…. And so were given perminssion to use our electronic devices again for a bit. 

Anyway, Lunch was hands down one of my best meals in Italy, which is great because it was also my last for a while.  I ate dinner at the airport, but I don’t consider airports to be part of the city or state/country thy are in, because having been to LAZ, I do not claim that I have visited the state of California.  The airport is a separate entity entirely. 

After lunch, I finished up packing, and did the last of the dishes, took the trash out, and said a rather tearful goodbye to my apartment.  Then I took my stuff downstairs and waited for my taxi, which AHA had helped me to schedule since I no longer had an Italian phone.  Well, Enrico. Our usual driver was busy, so he had a friend come pick me up, but it was a little chaotic, and there were a couple miscommunications, but when I was literally one minute from walking into Maga Cacao and begging them to drive me to the station, the driver and I found each other.  And so Lisa and I began our journey to HOME. 

We left macerata a little after 5 PM (just after 11 AM Michigan time) on Saturday, under the cover of darkness, which is exactly how I entered Macerata many moons ago.  We then took the train to Fabriano, and then on to Rome, we accidentally sati n a first class car, but it was empty so we were hoping the conductor would let us slide, she didn’t.  She told us we could sit anywhere but where we were… so we carted our 6 bags into the next car over…..    Then we got to Termini with about 25 minutes before the last airport shuttle left.  We quick grabbed tickets, and then booked it from platform 1 (thankfully not 1 East) to platform 24.  Before getting on an Italian train, you have to validate your ticket.  There are little yellow boxes along the platform that will stamp your ticket for you.  We tried 3 or 4 different ones, and none of them seemed to be working… so the conductor came, noticed instantly that we were American, and reminded us to do that everytime, but we told him the machines didn’t work, and he let us go on that one, which was great because I was still a little scared that we would have gotten the wonderful 100 euro fee for screwing up. 

So we made it to the airport a little before midnight (6PM Saturday in Michigan), after some wandering about, we found an area with an open café, and lots of other people camped out, near terminal three where Lisa’s flight would beleaving from in the morning.  Mine was leaving from Terminal 5, but almost 2 hours after hers, so I would have plenty of time to get there after she checked in.  We ended up taking over a table at the little 24 hour café.  There was a woman sitting at the otherside, but she didn’t have any food or drinks, she was just using the table.  So we took over the other half.  I said “Buona Sera” to here, which means good evening, and then we ended up talking to her for most of the night.  She’s married, lives down south in Calabria, has a 27 year old son, and is some how of Russian decent.  I did not fully understand what she was telling me there, but I got that she had been living in Italy for about 12 years.  The night went by much faster than I thought it would and before we knew it, it was time to check Lisa in.  She got her bag checked and such, and then we found out that my terminal wouldn’t even be open for another hour.   Things seemed to be moving at a fairly easy pace around the airport at that hour, so we sat and people watched for a while, playing “spot the American”  (which is no longer a fun game, considering I am surrounded by them)

Then I headed off to terminal 5.  Now way back in the day, my flight left from Chicago O’Hare’s Terminal 5, and I was told be a reliable source that this was a desolate wasteland of airport terminals, lacking amenities common in other locales.  It is  Hilton compared to Rome’s Terminal 5.  First I took a shuttle bus to the middle of nowhere, and it left us in a warehouse with some benches and “desks” that looks more like airline themed circus booths that would just collapse if you looked at them funny.  From there, we started to check in, and then went to check our baggage, and got to take another shuttle to the actual terminal.  This whole process was so odd to my very tired brain that I do not even know how much my suitcase weighed in at…  Then we got to the actual gates, and there were all sorts of duty free type places (bought myself some kinder bars) but the layout was circular, and I felt like we were in some sort of space module.  That is also where I witnessed the lovely little human interaction I mentioned earlier. 

While waiting to board I bumped into two girls from my program, Beth and Kasey Harris, who were also on my flight, but we didn’t sit by each other.  I got on the plane at 9:40 AM (3:40 AM Michigan time)  When I checked in that morning, I was given the choice between window and aisle seats, and I chose an aisle, because I wanted to be able to get up easily and  we were going to be over the ocean most of the time.  I got my aisle seat, but there was no one directly next to me, so the guy next to me and I shared the middle seat as kind of a storage area on our 11 hour and 40 minutes flight.  That’s a long time to be in a plane my friends.  I took a couple Nyquil when I got one, and I did sleep a lot, which is probably why I am not completely toasted right now.  There is a little part of me that knows that I am (and should be) exhausted, but 95% of me is just sooo excited to be home and see everyone for the first time in 3.5 months. 

When we landed in Atlanta, I turned my phone on, and it worked, and I was so happy.  I am making sure that we now get our money’s worth out of the December texting portion of the cell phone bill…because you hate to pay for something you never use.

But then, there was a small issue that I had to get through customs in Atlanta and on another flight in 1 hour and 55 minutes from the moment we landed.  But I did it!  I kind of cut in line every time I would turn a corner in a cattle coral  … and smiled sweetly for the Homeland security Agents, because I was legitimately happy to be walking on carpeted American soil.  No carpet in Italy, like anywhere.  I also was the luckiest human being alive at the baggage claim for customs.  As I was walking up to the belt, my bag was just coming around the first curve like it was waiting for me.  It was beautiful.    While I was standing at my gate waiting to board my last flight, I was just so full of happy bubbly energy, I really wanted to just give someone a hug, but even if Americans are more open, I somehow feel as though that would not have gone over well.  Our last plane apparently has an engine that sounds like a barking dog while on the ground, and our pilot took a moment before we got rolling to warn us about this fact.  It was quite odd indeed.

Been an amazing first 24 hours.  I have seen Mom, Dad, Alex, Heidi, Morgan, Grandma Cheadle, and Syd, and also talked to Marissa and Tanis, and Grandpa and Grandma De Young.  Home is beautiful.

One or two more blog posts still to come about my overall experience! 

Thanks for reading, and for always being there for me.  I appreciate you all.  

Some Things are Made to Last

Since coming back from Rome, things have gone so fast.  That weekend, I hung out around town with friends, took over a local coffee shop for a few hours, made some homemade gniocchi with pesto… typical Italian weekend.  

 Right after we got back, we had our final spoken test in Italian.  Our class was asked to prepare about 5-10 minutes on our 10-day breaks.  We would go in, and talk to our teacher, Sara, and then she would ask us questions about it.  It was a little stressful, but overall not too bad. 

And it was a short school week, which was terribly exciting.  Thursday was a national holiday, so we had no class Thursday or Friday.  There were lots of events happening over the weekend, including a Christmas themed flea market, which was pretty amazing.  There were booths set up around one of the piazzas where the Christmas tree is.  The tree is a real tree, pretty big too, probably about 20 feet.  My favorite part about it though, is the grass and flowers that have been imported to the inside of the walls and are around the base.  There is very little vegetation outside of flower boxes in windows inside these walls, so this imported grass is very well protected.  The lights on the tree blink and flash, its quite exciting.

Over the streets, there are lights that are little chains of stars hung alternating with icicle lights.  The icicle lights flash in a little cascading pattern that reminds me of falling snow (they would be incredibly pretty with big fluffy flakes around them)  Since it is dark a little after four every afternoon, I get to enjoy the lights for while every evening.  

Thursday, I wandered around the market with Erin, and we bumped into Lisa.  I bought a couple of Christmas presents one of which has a fun corresponding story that I cannot tell, lest the person receiving it reads this post… Sorry every one!  There were lots of really cool crafty booths.  There was one with amazingly adorable owl shaped purses, and very fun decorative wallets.   There were several with cool handmade jewelry, and a few with antiques. 

Friday, I wandered the market some more… and also overtook the upstairs of a the coffee shop again.  But Friday night, there was a church service, and a bonfire.   The bonfire is symbolic to guide the angels that brought the house of Mary to Loretto hundreds of years ago on that date.  I went to the church service at the cathedral with Lisa and Lindsey, and it was beautiful.  I saw the bishop, and there was actually music.  I have been to Sunday mass at the cathedral a few times, and there hasn’t been music.  They sang a song in Spanish even.  It was a very gentle and reflective service, although I didn’t pick up on much meaning beyond most of the songs being focused on the Virgin. 

The bonfire was to follow immediately in the piazza in front of the cathedral.  As we walked out, we were each given a long white candle with a brightly colored paper cover.  We lit them and stood in a circle, where more songs were sung. As the songs gained momentum and energy, a few kids and a few grownups began to “dance” around the inside of the circle.  One song was even in English, but none of us could figure out what it was exactly, except that the chorus involved the word freedom, but other than that the Italians singing it were indecipherable… but it was fun to hear anyways. 

Then they lit the bonfire, it was made basically of big bundles of brush, tied together.  It got pretty tall, and I tried to take a few pictures, but I was toward the back of the circle, and had to hold my camera up above my head a ways to actually be ale to get he fire in the picture.  Since it was just brush it burned up fast, so they added another bunch of brush, and that burned down pretty quick as well.  And then it was done.  Now, I had seen bonfire advertised, and I pictured a brief ceremony (check), lots of people gathered around (check),  chatting and warming yourself for hours (false).  The mass was twice as long as the bonfire ceremony and the actual bonfire.  Once the fire was finished, the firemen swept up the ashes, and all the evidence was gone.  But it was still a really cool experience. 

Saturday, I woke up early, very early indeed.  Ever since we first went to Civitanova our first weekend here as a group, I have wanted to go back there to watch the sunrise over  the Adriatic.  Well, Saturday, that is exactly what Lisa and I did.  We caught a 6:30 AM train out of Macerata and got to Civitanova just after 7.  There were the first hints of light in the sky, and we booked it to the pier.  We sat on the rocks at the edge of the beach, and just soaked it in.  To our left, we could see up the coast toward Ancona, still blue and hazy, covered in cool, gray clouds.  To our right and in front of us, the sky was becoming a warm yellow behind the clouds.  Little bits of orange and pink lined the horizon.  The sea itself was an incredible shade of blue, somehow pale and rich all at once.  The warm colors of the sun were brushed across the swells of the waves, and hitting the edges of the blanket of the clouds.  The waves washed up on the rocky beach and made a fantastic sound as they drag rocks back and forth with them. 

After sitting for a while, and then walking, sticking our hands in the water, and picking up seashells from the beach (which I haven’t ever really found many of on that beach before that day), we headed back into town to a café.  We passed this one on our way to the beach, and it had beautiful glass chandeliers,  counters decorated with crystal glass beads, and some classy white couches, and we determined that it would be a great place to warm up with a cappuccino.  And it was.  We took a couple picture of our cappucini (that’s the plural) and then…. My camera battery died.  Better there than on the beach a little while before however.  We walked around town and window shopped, and then caught a train back to Macerata, and we were home in time for lunch. 

Lisa and I have been doing a lot of studying with breaks for “un giro” which is the brilliant little invention where you just go out for a walk around town.  It is a great way to soak up more of our city for free.  And it is also a nice break from our studying for finals.  Sunday, we went to our last mass at Santa Maria delle Vergine, the church she and I have been gong to for a while now.  One of my favorite things about that church is that they do not adhere to the rule that children should be seen not heard.  This Sunday, a little girl who couldn’t be more than three, ran up the center aisle as her mom went to the front to read a Bible verse.  She stood and waited for her mom, and then made a few more laps around the church before settling down.  There has not been a week without a similar moment, precious little kids who are allowed to just be precious. 

Sunday night, I went to Pizzeria Bel Mondo again,  and it was just as wonderful a I remembered.  I couldn’t find my mozzerella, tomato, arugula and prosciutto pizza (probably a season item), but I did find an AMAZING gorgonzola, spinach and speck pizza.  I am fairly certain I dreamt about it that night.   It was delightful.  

And now, back to exam week studying.   My computer/ internet is not letting me upload pictures, trust me I have been truing because there are a lot that need to go up.   But, alas, it will be waiting til I get home it looks like.  

Happy Snow!   (we just had a thunderstorm, no snow here yet except in the mountains)

Vacanza Romana (Roman Holiday in Italian)

I was honestly not expecting Rome to be as awesome and beautiful as it was.  I think I was expecting a super busy, high traffic city with a few ancient monuments dispersed in between it, and then the Vatican, which is technically a separate entity.  So we arrived in Termini on Tuesday, which really is not all that unique compared to other Mass transit centers and went straight to our hotel.  Our hotel was actually right across the street from Termini, which was incredibly convenient.  After a very short respite, we embarked on our journey to the Coliseum.  We jumped on the metro (while holding our bags close, because people will attempt to grab them off your shoulders).  There is a metro station for the Coliseum, and as we walked out of it into the sun I caught my first glimpse of the Coliseum, and a cool breeze blew across my face.   In that moment, I fell in love with the city. 

The Coliseum is really mind blowing, but I think somehow in my head I expected it to be taller.  I tried to imagine what it would be like when the place was packed with people.   I did notice one very ironic thing, the Roman road that runs next to the Coliseum is still intact, even if it is a bit hazardous if you are not paying attention, because it is made of very large rocks and they are not 100% level, but the asphalt they put on a few of the paths in the Coliseum is getting potholes in it.  I learned some interesting etymologies as well, such as Vomitoreum, which were the architectural features of the Coliseum designed to get patrons out quickly. I took tons of pictures in there…The day was so beautiful, and the sky was so blue, and I was in the Coliseum with a really big memory card and a great camera…

Afterwards, Lisa and I grabbed a little lunch, and then went for a walk in park.  While walking there, we accidently discovered the ruins of Nero’s Golden Palace!  Well, discovered them for ourselves… someone else already found them, there were signs and everything.  But they were closed off due to a recent collapse.  But there was an area where there were lots of chips of brick just laying in the grass… and so I picked one up.  I haven’t heard anything that resembles the Hawaiian myth of Pele, and I was on the public side of the fence… so no problem, right?

We met up with the group again, and Filiberto and Gina told us all about The Arch of Constantine, which is next to the Coliseum.  Then we set off walking.  We walked to Ceasar’s palace and saw the remains of an aqueduct that was the private supply of water to the palace installed for fear of poisoning.  Now in my opinion having your own personal line would make you an easier target, and there would be less collateral damage from the assassin… but he had his own anyway, probably just because he was emperor, so he could and felt entitled to it.  We didn’t really slow down at the palace initially, so I was trying to take pictures, but I couldn’t get any good ones.  But do not despair dear friends!  As we walked we came to a large clearing (former racetrack?  I didn’t quite catch what its purpose was) and we could see a UN building on one end, but when we crossed to the other side of it and got to the top of the hill, we could see the whole palace.  Wow.  If you thought you needed to downsize, you should just take a little peek at Ceasar’s house.  It’s huge.  And I am sure that in it’s day was absolutely glorious, even if now it just a few walls.

From the palace, we headed over to the Mouth of Truth.  Fun fact: Audrey Hepburn’s movie Roman Holiday was actually shot in Rome, and she went to the Mouth of Truth and stuck her hand in. So I can now say that I have stood in the very same spot that she stood.  I was so excited, and I want to say that was the highlight of my day but we crammed so much amazing stuff into one day, and it was of so many different varieties that it is really hard to say what my favorite was.

After the mouth of truth we continued our walk along the river.  It was so beautiful, and the water was a light blue green.  The trees around were turning colors and it was incredible.  We continued walking along the river past a couple of ancient temples, and then to Teatro Marcello, with architecture by Michelanglo.  At this point the sun was setting, and we walked to a spot where we could see the Roman Forum.  The colors were so beautiful on the marble at dusk.  It looked like an awesome place to play hide and seek, but I feel like that is one of those things that authorities would frown on….

We kept walking to Piazza Venezia, where there is a museum that was a government building in the time of Mussolini, and there is a balcony there where he stood to declare Italy’s entry into World War II.  No one has stood on the balcony since.  There is also the Campodoglio, a huge marble building dedicated to the unification of Italy.  It is probably one of the most magnificent buildings I have ever seen.  It looked like a palace.  There is a huge staircase leading up to the porch area which is surrounded by huge pillars.  There are statues of winged victories or angels on the roof, and on the stairs.  Some of them are driving chariots, and all of them are incredibly beautiful.  By this time it was dark out, and the white marble was warm and glowing (thanks to the lighting). 

Our last stop for the evening was the Trevi Fountain.  Now when you are making wishes somewhere that important, you need to think about them for a while beforehand.  Lisa and I had been carefully brainstorming our wishes (not talking specifics so that we wouldn’t jinx them) for almost a week in advance.  Walking up to the Trevi Fountain is magical, but to me it was magical in the way that made me forget how incredibly much my feet hurt by this point in our walking tour and how hungry I was, and made me just want to giggle like a giddy school girl.  We threw our coins in and took lots of pictures, and made our wishes, so now we just wait and see. 

The next morning, we went to Chiesa di Santa Maria degli Angeli (Church of Saint Mary of the Angels) and I really enjoyed that one.  Much of the décor was getting closer to baroque, which is one of my favorite periods in architecture, because they combine all the artistic elements into one.  Things surprise you, what you thought was carved into the wall is actually painted, and you thought the ceiling above you was a dome, when it was really just flat.  Its like a bunch of optical illusions, which makes it quite exciting. 

Then we hopped on the metro to go to the Vatican.  There was a guy on the metro playing guitar, and he was playing pretty well.  Then he started to sing “house of the Rising Sun” and as the song gained energy, a few of us that were standing started to tap our rings on the metal poles along with him.  It was super fun, and one of those little simple pleasure moments shared by a few people on a train in a crowded city. 

When we got to the Vatican, we started out in the museums, which were just an incredible collection of artwork, we didn’t see all of them, because they could take a couple of days just on their own.  But the parts that we did see had a lot of stonework in them.  I still haven’t lost my sense of amazement at the amount of beautifully carved marble in this country.  Another thing I noticed is how consistent the tops of columns are… Each leaf and scroll looking just like the one next to it.  There were no molds to press to get that done.  Just chisels.   We also got to see the Rooms of Rafael, including the School of Athens.  And, amazingly, you were allowed to take pictures throughout the entire museum (except one room which I will get to in a minute), so I have pictures of the School of Athens, and the Liberation of St. Peter…

So we worked our way through the museums, with one important destination in mind, the Sistene Chapel.  To get there, you are winding your way through hallways, up and down staircases, I really don’t remember most of it, I kind of had some tunnel vision going on.  But then you walk through this door, just a normal little door, and you are in the Sistene Chapel.  The ceiling above your head is covered in Biblical stories and Michelangelo’s brush strokes.  Every detail is there, and the colors are so vibrant, the ceiling is just alive with them.  The prophets look down at you, but not in the haunted house way with eyes that follow you around, but like they are really there and so are you.  You do have to be cautious not to stand too long looking up… or you might pass out, but luckily there are beautiful paintings on the walls as well.   Its so strange to stand in the same room as a masterpiece like that.  I almost feel like I don’t belong, and I definitely feel like it isn’t real, like somehow this is a dream or a really clever trick.  But it’s not, and I am so blessed to have stood in that very spot (and so many others).

Next stop was lunch then St. Peter’s Basilica.  However… between lunch and the Basilica, myself and a couple other students got a bit lost… but we made it to the meeting point, just 15 minutes late (luckily Filiberto was still talking about the significance of the meeting point and had not left it yet). The piazza in front of the basilica is awesome, and they have the biggest “front porch” ever.  It is surrounded by a huge circle of columns and a porch like covered area.  The inside of the basilica is not at all dwarfed by the grand exterior.  As is the goal with huge cathedrals, I felt incredibly small standing inside of it.  The sun was coming through the windows at the altar, and the stained glass window with the dove was glowing.  My favorite part of the interior was the Pieta, also by Michelangelo.  It is a carving of the Virgin Mary holding Jesus after his death.  The sculpture was commissioned as a memorial for a cardinal who had lost his mother, but was controversial because the Virgin looked so young.   Regardless, it is a beautiful piece, and I stood in front of it for a long time. 

While we were getting our tour from Filiberto, a couple of normal tourist tagged along… without asking… and it was kind of funny.  They obviously couldn’t tell that we were a class that has been together for 3 months… or I don’t think they would have been so daring.  We cut it kind of close time wise though, and they closed the basilica for Mass, but then we went to climb the dome.  This one had an elevator and we were all very excited… but there were still just over 300 steps after the elevator.  This climb made me a little more claustrophobic than the climb in Florence, I think because there were extended sections of spiral staircases so tight that you had a rope to hang onto in the middle, and one “hallway” type area where your walls were actually the roof, and so they slanted.  It felt like some weird circus attraction.  But it was totally worth it for sunset views at the top once again.  The way the light hit the city made it seem almost like the embers left glowing after a fire.

When we got down, they were doing mass, and a few of us sat in the far back of the church and listened.   When we walked out of the basilica, the lights were on in the Pope’s study.  It felt like I was seeing a celebrity and I didn’t even see him.

The bas ride back to the hotel was one of the craziest in my life…. Long story short, it was beyond crowded.  A few highlights:  A caribinieri (military police) officer was standing next to me, and when a sit opened up, he motioned for me to take it… but more people were getting on the bus than off, so he ended up standing in front of me on the raised platform for the seats.  He was very nice though.  Lisa later ended up sitting in my lap to escape the guy next to her that was adjusting himself constantly… We then told Mr. Caribinieri that we had walked for about 8 hours that day.   He seemed impressed, and said something to me that I didn’t understand.  At which point I pulled out the old standby “Solo parlo poco italiano”  which is “I only speak a little Italian.” To which he nodded and smiled.  We finally reachered our stop and said “arrivederci” to him and headed to the hotel to crash for a while. 

That night Lisa and I picked a spot on the map that we could get to by the metro, and went to explore.  The place we picked was a really pretty piazza, with 3 large arches to enter it and an obelisk with a fountain in the middle.  We wandered around, got some amazing gelato (tiramisu flavored!!!) and some semi decent pasta.  Then headed back to the hotel quite early by Italian standards (9ish) and called it a night. 

Our last day, we went to see the Pantheon, which was pretty sweey.  It always kind of throws me off when these ancient buildings have been restored or repurposed.  The Pantheon was turned into a church and Queen Margherita is buried there.  Queen Margherita is the queen that the Margherita pizza (tomato, basil and mozzerella, the colors of the Italian flag) was created for.  So that was pretty sweet.  Then we went to a musical instrument museum where I saw the world’s oldest (and functioning) piano.  Marc also nearly got us kicked out, because he lifted the lid on another piano to show us the inner workings…when a museum employee came up, he simply argued that there was no sign, and that he was doing it for a class… but they left us alone, so I guess it worked.  (he could have also said that he knew the curator of the museum, which he apparently does) 

Then I headed over to the Spanish steps (which I didn’t climb….) Got a lovely little piece of pizza for lunch and did some shopping. Lisa and I walked from the Steps back to our hotel, and managed to navigate very effectively.  Then it was time to get on the train again, and I was quite grateful for the chance to rest, and so were my feet…

Here is the link to my Florence Pictures!  Have too much homework to get to the Rome ones, but I will try to get them up soon!

http://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.10151004261975705.764790.703125704&type=1&l=611ea10045

Less than 2 weeks to go!  Can't wait for Christmas :)

This is your Brain on Michelangelo: A Trip to Florence

This past Wednesday, we headed off to Florence (Firenze).  Departure itself was rather exciting, because we had to be at the train station at 6:20 AM.  I had assumed we would walk, which takes about 15 minutes, but my roommates found a bus that would get us there at 6:10.  This would be excellent, except that we had a few delays as we tried to head out, and ended up arriving to the bus stop at the same time as the bus was pulling up and running, hoping he would stop long enough for us to get on, and he did.  We reached the train station only to find our classmates, Filiberto and a delayed train. 

Several hours and three trains later… we get into Firenze.  The first thing that I notice is that it is touristy, there is a Mc Donalds in the station, and one just outside the door.  There are also a lot of signs in English.  Filiberto takes us into a little underpass, and at this point I am just hoping that the hotel is as close as he says it was.  When we surface we are in a piazza with a gorgeous church,  Santa Maria Novella.

We make it to the hotel, and Chelsea, Lisa and I got the keys to our room.  I wish I had remembered to take pictures of the hotel lobby, because it was pretty awesome.  There was the area with the desk, and then separated by a couple of pillars and situated under a barrel vault, there was as mall sitting area.  But the lobby also appeared like a split level, because  there was another small sitting area above that opened up to face the lobby.  The steps wound through the center of the hotel, and our room was on the Italian second floor, which is the third floor to my American brain. 

After a few minutes in the room to refresh ourselves after our train ride, Lisa and I set out to explore, while Chelsea decided to stay back and rest before going on our first tour with Filiberto in a couple hours.  Lisa and I discovered a little café with great sandwiches, and continued on our walk.  We saw some gorgeous shop windows, and found the Disney store, which of course you have to go into, no questions asked.  And then completely by accident, we found the Duomo, Santa Maria die Fiori, the most famous churches in Florence.  The work of so many great Renaissance architects and artists squeezed onto 3 buildings, the cathedral, its bell tower and baptistery.  We stood in complete awe, took a few pictures and then had to meet up with the group.  Ironically the duomo was on our tour for the day, but certainly I didn’t mind going more than once.

We got back to the hotel and set off like a bunch of ducklings behind Filiberto.  As we walked through the city I was just so amazed by the beauty of it.  But I also tried not to get too distracted by how beautiful it was, because the vespas, bikes and taxis don’t care if you think it is your turn to cross the street.  Filiberto took us through the city, stopping periodically to point out a statue here, and beautiful Renaissance window there,  Back at the duomo, he begins to explain to us what makes this particular cathedral so spectacular.  First the baptistery, with its beautiful doors, and interior with a ceiling covered in gold mosaics.  The portrait to Christ on the ceiling has him seated with his hands out to the side.  One hand has the palm facing forward welcoming his children, while the second has his palm facing back, pushing evil away.  The bell tower, done primarily in white marble with amazing detailing, from top to bottom, soared up into the perfect blue sky.  I could not have asked for a better day if I had tried.  The crown jewel of the project, however, is the dome, completed by an architect by the name of Brunelleschi in 1401.  The primary design for the church was already done, and called for a massive dome, bigger than any other in the world at the time.  It was discovered though, that there was not enough lumber in Italy as a whole to even build the scaffolding  to build the dome… and so the Florentines were in a bit of pickle.  Brunelleshi figured out that if he built  a smaller dome, and used it to support the larger dome while also making some modifications to the supporting structure of the church, it would work. 

Historians mark the completion of the dome in 1401 as the start of the Renaissance.  But here’s the best part, you can climb it.  It takes 463 stairs, a couple of really tight spiral staircases, some strangely shaped places, a lot of patience, and endurance but you can do it.  The path takes you on a walk through the interior around the edge of the dome, with great bird’s eye views of the church below, and close ups of the frescos on the ceiling by Giorgio Vasari. 

I would just like to take a moment to note that Filiberto does not like these frescoes, he like Vasari’s other works, but not these frescos.  They are not my favorites that I have seen, but I would not have said they are terrible, that being said, one of Filiberto’s theories was that Vasari was influenced by Michelangelo, and tried too hard to imitate him, which lead Gina to gesture at the ceiling and state, “This is your brain on Michelangelo.” I found this to be a perfect summary of my time in Florence. 

So to continue on, the views from the top of the dome were spectacular.  The city spreads out for miles, with the bell towers and domes rising above their residential neighbors in all corners.  Not only that, but no detail was left unfinished.   The white marble curled around flowers and looked like it was given just as much attention as  the tiles in the floor and the carvings in the façade.  I doubt that Brunelleshi expected hundreds of tourists to be climbing to the top of his dome  on a daily basis, making their way steadily to the top.  The most incredible part of it for me was not that  we climbed it, or how amazing the view was, but it was that I was standing at the top of a creation that is now credited with being the start of a new historical era.  An era that didn’t just impact art, but science, philosophy, literature, and every aspect of daily life. 

We also visited the basilica of Santa Croce, a Fransiscan church.  The façade here was also beautiful, with its contrasting dark and light marble.  Santa croce’s interior is particularly remarkable because it is lined for its entire length in crypts and memorials.  Gallileo, Machiavelli, and Michelangelo are all buried in this church, along with several other important figures in Italian history and culture.  

One thing is certain, I would have an entirely different perspective on this city if I had not already taken my sculpture class in Alma.  In that class, I made my own feeble attempts at carving stone,  I recognize that comparing a first attempt to a masterpiece is rather unfair, but the hours I spent working on a form that is so incredibly simple in comparison make me fear for the number of hours Renaissance artists spent with their chisels and hammers, bringing out faces, flowing hair, and truly “sculpted” muscles. 

Thanks to daylight savings, and the very early sunsets, we got to walk through the city at night.  We walked along the river and to the Ponte Vecchio, a very old and famous bridge over the Arno River.  What was cool about the bridge to me is that it actually has houses and shops built on it.  Most of the shops are jewelry shops, so that was quite exciting to walk through. 

Our first night, we had dinner as a group at a little restaurant not too far from the hotel.  They brought out three different pasta dishes, one of which was cinghiale, a classic Tuscan dish with wide noodles and wild boar meat, which is actually quite good.  Then there were platters of chicken and potatoes, and a tiramisu for dessert.  It was quite delicious.  After the meal we walked out of the restaurant and we kind of gathering in the street as we all tried to decide whether we wanted to explore further or just head back to the hotel.  At this point, within a few seconds of each other, various parts of the group were almost taken out be moving vehicles from three directions.  This hastened the decision making process a bit. 

On Thanksgiving day, we walked along the river again.   I saw Michelangelo’s David, I kind of expected to cry at that moment, but I really just felt detached from myself, like this could not possibly be real life.  The David is kept in a museum, and at the end of a long room, lit from above…I really didn’t notice anything else about the room, except that Filiberto thought that he could lecture about things that were in the length of space leading up to The David, and that I would remember them.  No, my brain was still trying to wrap itself around a few fairly simple concepts, like the fact that I was standing in Florence, Italy staring at one of the most famous pieces of artwork in the world.   I have such a pure respect and admiration for Michelangelo and all his colleagues, the fact that The David has veins in his forearms, wrinkles in his knuckles, and curls in his hair.  It is beyond incredible. 

Then we got some lunch at a “self service” pasta bar, which is basically your standard cafeteria style serving, but with pretty decent pasta.  That afternoon we toured another church.  *Insert details when journal is present*  And then we headed to the market. 

We also visited a museum with collection of  antique musical instruments, and by antique I mean some of the 1400’s vintage.  All of the instruments were collected by the Medici family, a very powerful Florentine family throughout history.  The collection even includes one original Stradivarius tenor viola.  Stradivari was a violin builder, and his violins have become mythical because they are supposed to be some of the best made instruments in the world.  Very few of them remain, there are a few that are complete, and some parts of his instruments were recycled and placed on others, but to have a whole original Stradivarius is incredibly rare.  It was amazing to me how little the shape of a string instrument has changed in the last few centuries, at first glance, I could not tell you what vintage any violin in that room was, and really without further study I don’t think that I could tell you even after close examination, but it was still incredibly cool.  I also saw one of the original upright pianos (which apparently came around in the early 1700s)  but there were a lot of mechanical issues with them, and they were more a of novelty than an effective instrument.

Friday, we went to the Uffizi Gallery, which was originally intended to be an office building, when it was built a couple hundred years ago, and it now holds some of the most important pieces in art history.  We saw works by Pierro della Francesca, Da Vinci, and Michelangelo.  We also saw the Birth of Venus and Rite of Spring or La Primavera by Botticelli.  These two were absolutely my favorites; worth everything it took to get me there.  I could feel the wind in their hair, and feel the mist coming off the sea.  The paintings felt so incredibly alive, and open and inviting, as if you could just step into them (the guards really frown on that… probably worse than trying to snap a picture) The flowers in Primavera were what really caught my attention: they were actually slightly 3 dimensional, and so much more wonderful.   We saw Michelangelo’s Holy Family, and Da Vinci’s Annunciation.  I feel like the Uffizi is museum that you have to visit multiple times in order to fully appreciate it, because after a while, you will stop seeing all the wonderful parts of each painting, and just stare.  And each one deserves more attention that a normal human being can really give in 98a day.

Florence has a couple of pretty awesome open air markets that are open every day until about 7.   We wandered up and down the street, going in an out of the shops looking at leather bound journals, purses, beautiful leather coats, and bits of Murano glass jewelry.  All of that was interspersed with your standard touristy paraphernalia.  The streets of Florence were a bit of culture shock to compared to the streets of Macerata.  First of all, the vendors speak English.  Secondly, many of them live up to the reputation of Italian men being shameless flirts.  Walking through Macerata I have received the occasional cat call or some such nonsense, but I could probably count the occurrences on one hand.  Not the case with Florence.  One vendor started talking to a friend of mine, by saying that he would give her a free leather coat to match her jacket… by the end of their interaction he had stated that they were going to get married in the church up the road and have 7 babies… It wasn’t until we were back in Macerata that I realized how pure my Italian experience has been.  Florence is an amazing city, but it has been almost three months since I have been within a fifty foot radius of a Mc Donalds, and it has been a long time since I felt my brain almost slipping out of Italian mode.  I actually caught myself saying “Vorrei questo panino please.”  Which if you translate the part that I didn’t screw up is, “I would like that sandwich please.”  When we first got to Florence and we heard people not only speaking English, but American English in the streets, we were so excited, and it felt so strange.  There are very few other people in Macerata that speak English as a first language… a couple Irish and Australian exchange students that I know of… but beyond that I am fairly certain that it is just us. 

1)   The original item used to pluck the strings on a harpsichord was the feather of a crow.

2)   Until the year 1700, small members of the violin family were played against the shoulder, not the neck.

3)   The English Horn was actually called the “corne anglée” in French, and which means “angled horn,” but it was misconstrued as “corne anglais” which is pronounced the same, but means English horn.

4)   A unicorn symbolizes spousal fidelity in Renaissance painting.

5)   A pelican can sometimes symbolize Christ, but it often used to symbolize someone that gives their life for a child. 

Florence was amazing.  I would love to go back someday, so that I can just live and breathe the city some more.  All the artwork, right there in front of you is so much more alive than in pictures.  Walking through the churches and the galleries and streets, you can feel the energy of all these artists coming together to create this beautiful city.  I see their marble statues and feel the blood sweat and tears it took to bring those figures out of the rock. One of my favorite places thus far.

Rome tomorrow!
19 days until I head Home!