(From 11/29/10)
It is difficult to believe that this is my last week here in Sansepolcro. Right now, I am slightly overwhelmed by everything I must do before an unnatural hour on Sunday morning, when the bus comes to take us to Rome. I have two papers to write, a test and an exam to take, and lots and lots of studying. Then of course, there is the daunting task of packing. All the little souvenirs and small gifts I’ve been collecting throughout the semester really do add up. Fortunately, I did bring an extra bag. However, I will definitely be returning home with more stuff and more luggage than I came with. Another thing on my to-do list is planning my trip to Rome, since I will be spending a few days there before flying home. Meredith H. and I will be travelling together, and we need to make our hotel reservations and get tickets in advance to avoid those crazy-long lines at famous sights. And in addition to all of this, there are many things I must do before I can complete my sentimental packing: last goodbyes to new Italian friends, last walk down the corso, last gelato and cappuccino, last class with my middle school students, last glimpse of Sansepolcro. I’ve already taken my last train and last bus this past weekend, when I went to Capri and Pompeii—a sad arrivederci to all the adventures we’ve had traveling this semester.
On the one hand, I am deeply saddened to leave Sansepolcro, this town I’ve grown to love so much. I will miss my room in the Palazzo and having so much life and excitement right below. I will miss being able to look outside my window and check if the caffè or pizzeria is open. I will miss knowing everything happening in the town because I live in the middle of it and am regaled by trumpets and proclamations whenever something important is going on. I will miss walking to the grocery store and lugging back my heavy purchases. Well, actually, I won’t. But I will miss the smallness and closeness of Sansepolcro. I’ll miss going somewhere new nearly every weekend, exploring and observing places I’ve never been before. I’ll miss the opportunities to meet interesting people, study famous works of art, enjoy beautiful scenery, try new things. I’ll miss delicious pizza, cappuccino and EstaThè. I might even miss being called ragazza straniera when I return to being a normal person again.
It will be strange, I think, to walk down the street or sit in a café and actually understand bits of other people’s conversations as they waft over to your ears. I’ve grown so accustomed to tuning out words and letting them bounce around like gentle humming. It will also be strange to be aware of social rules and not fumble clumsily through them—for example, to know whether you are to sit down at a restaurant or wait to be seated, to wait in line or to push to the front at the post office, to give a hug, shake hands or kiss both cheeks, to pay now or later, to put your empty shopping basket near the cash register or take it back to the front of the supermarket. Simple things such as getting a haircut, going to the ATM, or buying a snack will no longer be a chore.
And then, of course, I cannot wait for the delight of seeing my family, boyfriend, and friends again. I’m so thankful I get to come home at the end of Fall semester and not Spring, when I would be starting a summer job right away. Now, during Christmas break, I will be able to spend lots of special time with all of the people I’ve been missing so much.
Love hurts. It hurt to leave everyone when I came here, and now it is hurting to leave Italy to go home. I guess that is just the way it is, and I can only hope to come back one day. In the meanwhile, I am taking back memories, knowledge, and self-awareness that I will always keep. Well, I suppose this is my last journal from Italy. Ciao, arrivederci and, maybe, a presto!
Emily
Sunday, January 23, 2011
Capri, “L’isola del Sole”
(From 11/23/10)
Knowing this weekend was our last travel break was sad and exciting. It was sad because now, I only have one more hostel adventure, one more time exploring an Italian city, one more time travelling with newly made friends, one more weekend here, in Italy. It was exciting because the days until my departure are quickly winding down, and soon I will be home in America, embracing people my heart has been aching to see for three months. Study abroad has ruined me. It has given me a taste for new things, things that aren’t attained without some difficulty. I’ve acquired a fondness for long train rides, for adventure, for the nightly walk along the corso with friends. I’ve developed a taste for homemade pasta, for cappuccino and caffè, for art museums, for wine, for the Italian language. On the other hand, words cannot express how thrilled I am that in 16 short days I will no longer need to stay up until 2 am every night doing homework, or to strain myself to understand people talking to me, or to survive with only five long sleeved shirts and two pairs of jeans. I cannot wait until I can talk to my family without having to calculate a six hour time difference, until I can see my boyfriend’s face, until I can go places without walking in the rain, until I can eat something other than pasta. For this weekend, however, all these things I tried to put out of my mind and focus on fully enjoying the experience. I wasn’t completely successful, but I did have quite an eventful trip.
Meredith H., Brianna and I traversed to Sorrento, where we soaked in Italy’s beautiful southern coast and took two day trips, to Pompeii and the Island of Capri. I think we’ve become more comfortable and relaxed about travelling as the semester has progressed because on our first trip we were paranoid about missing trains, had the bus schedule memorized by heart, and had worked out every detail, almost down to what restaurant we would eat at for each meal. This trip, however, we made reservations at a hostel, purchased our train tickets to Naples and back, but that was all. Upon arrival at the Naples train station, we had to figure out how to get from Naples to our hostel in Sorrento, a sizeable distance. It turned out to be much, much easier than anticipated, because there is one small train line that runs from Naples to Sorrento, with lots of stops in between. After the hour long train to Sorrento, we realized that our map of the town was very poor and we did not know exactly where our hostel was. But finding the hostel also turned out to be very easy because there were signs directing us to it from the train station. It was a short walk, and we were very pleased that we found it so easily.
Later that day, we hopped back on the train to visit Pompeii. Pompeii was massive—much, much larger than I expected. It makes sense, considering that it was a city, but it was still quite large. We walked through crumbled walls and aging columns, saw faded frescoes and a few body casts. It was difficult to imagine a time when Pompeii thrived with life and was inhabited by anything other than stone ruins and homeless dogs. As we walked through, it started to rain. We were expecting this from the weather forecast, but it still was not ideal sight-seeing conditions. As we were walking towards the exit to leave, it began to pour and by the time we left we were very wet.
After being rained on in Pompeii, just as the weatherman had predicted, we expected Saturday to be 66 degrees and sunny, also as the weatherman had predicted. However, we were very disappointed to wake up and find it to be much cooler than 66 degrees, but decided to bundle up and make the best of it. The previous night we asked our waiter, “How do you get to Capri?” We went down to the port as he had suggested and found the ticket booth for the hydrofoils easily. In about 20 minutes, we were sitting on the top deck of the boat enjoying the breeze and the view of Sorrento’s gorgeous coast. In the distance, the sky was gray and we could actually see the rain falling. Jokingly, we said it was looming forebodingly over our trip to Capri, but dismissed it as nothing more than a light, passing shower and nothing to worry about.
Capri was certainly very beautiful. When we landed it was slightly stressful navigating through the herds of tourists and avoiding the people offering us 20 euro bus tours or personal taxis exploring the island. Instead, we found free maps and used public transportation for 1.40 euro a ride. First we got to ride a special cable car up to Capri, and after that we rode buses winding around narrow, curvy roads, with only a thin metal bar separating us from the steep cliff inches away. Originally, we had hoped to take a boat tour of the Blue Grotto, a brilliant cave that reflects sunlight to make the whole space appear a lovely blue. But being that it was cloudy, it wouldn’t have been worthwhile. Once dark clouds began advancing, we decided to find a restaurant for lunch before getting caught in—what we thought to be—a passing shower. As soon as we sat inside the restaurant it started sprinkling. It sprinkled, then drizzled, and dripped, eventually working up to a solid pour. We sat for quite some time, thinking it would pass over, but it only got worse. Finally we decided that it probably wasn’t going to stop anytime soon, and we should call it a day. So we paid our bill and bravely stepped out into the storm.
What an adventure. Meredith and I were wearing our rain jackets, and Brianna had her umbrella, but neither proved successful in shielding us from pelting, sideways rain and guarding our feet from the gargantuan puddles that quickly turned into 4-6 inched of flooding everywhere. By the time we made it to the bus that would take us back to the marina, we were soaked. We boarded just in time, however, because a few minutes later, ½”-1” hail began pelting us from the sky. The water and hail flowed down the winding road alongside our bus like a river, flowing to the sea. When finally we made it to the bottom of the island, I hopped off the bus with my non-water-proof tennis shoes into icy water that came up to my ankles. We dashed under the nearest awning almost as fast as the lightning flashing overhead. It ended up being a small restaurant. At first we thought the owner was angry with us but after he told us to go inside and sit down, we realized he was just upset because the water was beginning to creep into his restaurant building. We sat there for quite a while, and eventually, the rain and hail ceased and the flooding went down to normal-sized puddles.
After that adventure, we were able to make it back to Sorrento on the next boat, but were very much drenched. Because we had been anticipating much pleasanter weather, Meredith and I had packed a pair of sandals, but no other extra shoes. We ended up going German and wearing our sandals with socks. Although we were disappointed about the weather, it at least makes for an exciting story to tell and fun memories. After all, lots of people have been to Capri when it was beautiful and seen the Blue Grotto, but only we (and a small handful of others) have survived a hail storm on the so-called “L’isola del Sole.”
Knowing this weekend was our last travel break was sad and exciting. It was sad because now, I only have one more hostel adventure, one more time exploring an Italian city, one more time travelling with newly made friends, one more weekend here, in Italy. It was exciting because the days until my departure are quickly winding down, and soon I will be home in America, embracing people my heart has been aching to see for three months. Study abroad has ruined me. It has given me a taste for new things, things that aren’t attained without some difficulty. I’ve acquired a fondness for long train rides, for adventure, for the nightly walk along the corso with friends. I’ve developed a taste for homemade pasta, for cappuccino and caffè, for art museums, for wine, for the Italian language. On the other hand, words cannot express how thrilled I am that in 16 short days I will no longer need to stay up until 2 am every night doing homework, or to strain myself to understand people talking to me, or to survive with only five long sleeved shirts and two pairs of jeans. I cannot wait until I can talk to my family without having to calculate a six hour time difference, until I can see my boyfriend’s face, until I can go places without walking in the rain, until I can eat something other than pasta. For this weekend, however, all these things I tried to put out of my mind and focus on fully enjoying the experience. I wasn’t completely successful, but I did have quite an eventful trip.
Meredith H., Brianna and I traversed to Sorrento, where we soaked in Italy’s beautiful southern coast and took two day trips, to Pompeii and the Island of Capri. I think we’ve become more comfortable and relaxed about travelling as the semester has progressed because on our first trip we were paranoid about missing trains, had the bus schedule memorized by heart, and had worked out every detail, almost down to what restaurant we would eat at for each meal. This trip, however, we made reservations at a hostel, purchased our train tickets to Naples and back, but that was all. Upon arrival at the Naples train station, we had to figure out how to get from Naples to our hostel in Sorrento, a sizeable distance. It turned out to be much, much easier than anticipated, because there is one small train line that runs from Naples to Sorrento, with lots of stops in between. After the hour long train to Sorrento, we realized that our map of the town was very poor and we did not know exactly where our hostel was. But finding the hostel also turned out to be very easy because there were signs directing us to it from the train station. It was a short walk, and we were very pleased that we found it so easily.
Later that day, we hopped back on the train to visit Pompeii. Pompeii was massive—much, much larger than I expected. It makes sense, considering that it was a city, but it was still quite large. We walked through crumbled walls and aging columns, saw faded frescoes and a few body casts. It was difficult to imagine a time when Pompeii thrived with life and was inhabited by anything other than stone ruins and homeless dogs. As we walked through, it started to rain. We were expecting this from the weather forecast, but it still was not ideal sight-seeing conditions. As we were walking towards the exit to leave, it began to pour and by the time we left we were very wet.
After being rained on in Pompeii, just as the weatherman had predicted, we expected Saturday to be 66 degrees and sunny, also as the weatherman had predicted. However, we were very disappointed to wake up and find it to be much cooler than 66 degrees, but decided to bundle up and make the best of it. The previous night we asked our waiter, “How do you get to Capri?” We went down to the port as he had suggested and found the ticket booth for the hydrofoils easily. In about 20 minutes, we were sitting on the top deck of the boat enjoying the breeze and the view of Sorrento’s gorgeous coast. In the distance, the sky was gray and we could actually see the rain falling. Jokingly, we said it was looming forebodingly over our trip to Capri, but dismissed it as nothing more than a light, passing shower and nothing to worry about.
Capri was certainly very beautiful. When we landed it was slightly stressful navigating through the herds of tourists and avoiding the people offering us 20 euro bus tours or personal taxis exploring the island. Instead, we found free maps and used public transportation for 1.40 euro a ride. First we got to ride a special cable car up to Capri, and after that we rode buses winding around narrow, curvy roads, with only a thin metal bar separating us from the steep cliff inches away. Originally, we had hoped to take a boat tour of the Blue Grotto, a brilliant cave that reflects sunlight to make the whole space appear a lovely blue. But being that it was cloudy, it wouldn’t have been worthwhile. Once dark clouds began advancing, we decided to find a restaurant for lunch before getting caught in—what we thought to be—a passing shower. As soon as we sat inside the restaurant it started sprinkling. It sprinkled, then drizzled, and dripped, eventually working up to a solid pour. We sat for quite some time, thinking it would pass over, but it only got worse. Finally we decided that it probably wasn’t going to stop anytime soon, and we should call it a day. So we paid our bill and bravely stepped out into the storm.
What an adventure. Meredith and I were wearing our rain jackets, and Brianna had her umbrella, but neither proved successful in shielding us from pelting, sideways rain and guarding our feet from the gargantuan puddles that quickly turned into 4-6 inched of flooding everywhere. By the time we made it to the bus that would take us back to the marina, we were soaked. We boarded just in time, however, because a few minutes later, ½”-1” hail began pelting us from the sky. The water and hail flowed down the winding road alongside our bus like a river, flowing to the sea. When finally we made it to the bottom of the island, I hopped off the bus with my non-water-proof tennis shoes into icy water that came up to my ankles. We dashed under the nearest awning almost as fast as the lightning flashing overhead. It ended up being a small restaurant. At first we thought the owner was angry with us but after he told us to go inside and sit down, we realized he was just upset because the water was beginning to creep into his restaurant building. We sat there for quite a while, and eventually, the rain and hail ceased and the flooding went down to normal-sized puddles.
After that adventure, we were able to make it back to Sorrento on the next boat, but were very much drenched. Because we had been anticipating much pleasanter weather, Meredith and I had packed a pair of sandals, but no other extra shoes. We ended up going German and wearing our sandals with socks. Although we were disappointed about the weather, it at least makes for an exciting story to tell and fun memories. After all, lots of people have been to Capri when it was beautiful and seen the Blue Grotto, but only we (and a small handful of others) have survived a hail storm on the so-called “L’isola del Sole.”
Weekend #2 in Florence (continued)
(From 11/16/10)
Last weekend I had the greatest pleasure—showing my two favorite places in Italy to three people I love very much. As if I was not blessed enough to be studying here for three months, I had the added blessing of a visit from my mom and grandparents. They arrived in Florence on a Wednesday, and I met them there after my classes on Thursday afternoon. In case it was not obvious from my previous travel journals, I love Florence, and it is my favorite place in Italy, next to Sansepolcro, of course. The only challenge in going there was deciding which of the outstanding museums and sights to take my family members to see. Eventually, I decided on the Uffizi (because no trip to Florence would be complete without it), the Galileo Science Museum (because it is newly renovated and, I heard, quite lovely), the Pitti Palace (because it is huge and has lots to see), and the Museo dell’Opera del Duomo (because I was longing to visit it). In my previous journal from last week, I talked in depth about my favorite sculpture, Michelangelo’s last Pietà, so now I will try to suppress that ardent love and focus on the many other happenings of the trip.
Seeing my grandparents and, especially, my mom, was very exciting, since I have been away for two and a half months, now. When I arrived on Thursday we spent the afternoon and evening talking, catching up, and enjoying each other’s company. We ate dinner at a fairly decent restaurant downstairs—touristy, but nicer than what I usually eat on my travel breaks (cheap to-go pizza). Friday morning we woke up early and I took mom, Noni and Poppop on their first Italian city bus experience. In the morning we visited the Galileo Science Museum which was, as I had been told, a beautiful new museum and definitely worth the money.
There was scarcely anyone else there, so we were free to enjoy the exhibits in peace and quiet and at our leisure. At most museums, there are usually employees seated in every doorway. I think they might be there to answer questions, but usually they only play crossword puzzles and tell camera-happy tourists they are not allowed to take pictures. At the Galileo Museum, however, there was an extremely friendly and knowledgeable staff member who walked through the exhibits, stopping to explain them to you or anyone else who wanted to hear. This was especially helpful when something was only labeled in Italian, because he spoke nearly perfect English. He also was able to give a much deeper background about each of the things on display than was written on the display itself.
One of the things I learned about was an armillary sphere. This is an incredibly complex spherical instrument that plots the paths of planets and the sun as medieval Europeans envisioned them. It is quite gargantuan, probably around five or six feet in diameter, and is comprised of endless gears and detailed parts. In this model, the earth is in the center, and everything spins around it when a metal crank is turned. This piece was for the Medici and took 40 years to create, a substantial chunk of time to spend on something that would turn out to be incorrect. The irony of it is that, at the time, the man who designed it knew the earth was not the center of the universe, but the sun was. However, because of pressure from the church, he continued to pour his life into something he knew was wrong while he waited for Galileo to finish finding proof of this new, controversial theory. This massive armillary sphere is one of only three in existence, and is a new addition to the museum.
I also saw two telescopes that Galileo himself built. They were only a 30x magnification, but that was enough for him to make observations about the stars and planets that, at the time, were astonishing. For example, he found some of the moons around Jupiter and rings around Saturn, as well as a few other discoveries. He also damaged his vision looking at sunspots on the surface of the sun. In another display case were two of Galileo’s fingers and his tooth. Yes, this was quite a strange exhibit and it surprised me at first. After Galileo was shunned from the church because of his claim that the earth is not the center of the universe, he was given a burial in dishonored cemetery. Later, when everyone realized he was right, they dug up his bones to bury him in a more respected place. At this time, people tried to take fragments of his bones to have as relics, and this is how Galileo lost his fingers and tooth.
Visiting museums was both enlightening and fun, but also very, very tiring. At the end of the day, all four of us were eager to find the bus and return to our hotel. But this was easier said than done. Finding bus stops can be very difficult, as they are often hidden in the most unlikely spots, and figuring out what route to take can be even more confusing. After we walked a good deal we found the bus stop and got on the bus. After a few minutes we reached our destination. However, the bus stopped slightly earlier than I had expected it to and, anticipating another stop, we remained seated and did not get off. It did not stop again, however, but turned around and continued its route’s loop. I thought it would be best to remain on the bus and loop back around, rather than getting off and going through the complicated process of finding another bus. Little did I know that the bus’s complete route took an hour and a half, went in the complete opposite direction we wanted to go, and even went off my map of Florence. Needless to say, we had quite an interesting tour of the city and it’s outskirts. At one point, I began to doubt if we would ever return to our stop, so I asked the bus driver, “Santa Maria Novella?” In response, he laughed. And that is how I knew we were as far away from it as we could possibly be. It is not good news when your bus driver laughs at your questions. But we made the best of it and tried to appreciate seeing a part of the city we hadn’t planned on seeing. It wasn’t exactly the most comfortable ride, mostly because the city buses are very bumpy and rickety, and also have hard chairs. At one point it got to be so bouncy my grandmother laughed through clenched dentures and said, “I’m afraid I’m going to lose my uppers!”
After our Florence adventures, I brought mom, Noni and Poppop to Sansepolcro on Sunday morning. They say it was the highlight of their trip, which makes me happy because it is my favorite, too. We went out to lunch and ate delicious homemade Tuscan food, I introduced them to Sansepolcran friends, Italian caffè, and showed them what the passagiata, or evening walk, is all about. The next morning, they left to go to Naples, Pompeii, and Rome before flying home. It was sad to say goodbye, but easier knowing that I will be home again in a few short weeks. And what wonderful memories we have to share together now!
Last weekend I had the greatest pleasure—showing my two favorite places in Italy to three people I love very much. As if I was not blessed enough to be studying here for three months, I had the added blessing of a visit from my mom and grandparents. They arrived in Florence on a Wednesday, and I met them there after my classes on Thursday afternoon. In case it was not obvious from my previous travel journals, I love Florence, and it is my favorite place in Italy, next to Sansepolcro, of course. The only challenge in going there was deciding which of the outstanding museums and sights to take my family members to see. Eventually, I decided on the Uffizi (because no trip to Florence would be complete without it), the Galileo Science Museum (because it is newly renovated and, I heard, quite lovely), the Pitti Palace (because it is huge and has lots to see), and the Museo dell’Opera del Duomo (because I was longing to visit it). In my previous journal from last week, I talked in depth about my favorite sculpture, Michelangelo’s last Pietà, so now I will try to suppress that ardent love and focus on the many other happenings of the trip.
Seeing my grandparents and, especially, my mom, was very exciting, since I have been away for two and a half months, now. When I arrived on Thursday we spent the afternoon and evening talking, catching up, and enjoying each other’s company. We ate dinner at a fairly decent restaurant downstairs—touristy, but nicer than what I usually eat on my travel breaks (cheap to-go pizza). Friday morning we woke up early and I took mom, Noni and Poppop on their first Italian city bus experience. In the morning we visited the Galileo Science Museum which was, as I had been told, a beautiful new museum and definitely worth the money.
There was scarcely anyone else there, so we were free to enjoy the exhibits in peace and quiet and at our leisure. At most museums, there are usually employees seated in every doorway. I think they might be there to answer questions, but usually they only play crossword puzzles and tell camera-happy tourists they are not allowed to take pictures. At the Galileo Museum, however, there was an extremely friendly and knowledgeable staff member who walked through the exhibits, stopping to explain them to you or anyone else who wanted to hear. This was especially helpful when something was only labeled in Italian, because he spoke nearly perfect English. He also was able to give a much deeper background about each of the things on display than was written on the display itself.
One of the things I learned about was an armillary sphere. This is an incredibly complex spherical instrument that plots the paths of planets and the sun as medieval Europeans envisioned them. It is quite gargantuan, probably around five or six feet in diameter, and is comprised of endless gears and detailed parts. In this model, the earth is in the center, and everything spins around it when a metal crank is turned. This piece was for the Medici and took 40 years to create, a substantial chunk of time to spend on something that would turn out to be incorrect. The irony of it is that, at the time, the man who designed it knew the earth was not the center of the universe, but the sun was. However, because of pressure from the church, he continued to pour his life into something he knew was wrong while he waited for Galileo to finish finding proof of this new, controversial theory. This massive armillary sphere is one of only three in existence, and is a new addition to the museum.
I also saw two telescopes that Galileo himself built. They were only a 30x magnification, but that was enough for him to make observations about the stars and planets that, at the time, were astonishing. For example, he found some of the moons around Jupiter and rings around Saturn, as well as a few other discoveries. He also damaged his vision looking at sunspots on the surface of the sun. In another display case were two of Galileo’s fingers and his tooth. Yes, this was quite a strange exhibit and it surprised me at first. After Galileo was shunned from the church because of his claim that the earth is not the center of the universe, he was given a burial in dishonored cemetery. Later, when everyone realized he was right, they dug up his bones to bury him in a more respected place. At this time, people tried to take fragments of his bones to have as relics, and this is how Galileo lost his fingers and tooth.
Visiting museums was both enlightening and fun, but also very, very tiring. At the end of the day, all four of us were eager to find the bus and return to our hotel. But this was easier said than done. Finding bus stops can be very difficult, as they are often hidden in the most unlikely spots, and figuring out what route to take can be even more confusing. After we walked a good deal we found the bus stop and got on the bus. After a few minutes we reached our destination. However, the bus stopped slightly earlier than I had expected it to and, anticipating another stop, we remained seated and did not get off. It did not stop again, however, but turned around and continued its route’s loop. I thought it would be best to remain on the bus and loop back around, rather than getting off and going through the complicated process of finding another bus. Little did I know that the bus’s complete route took an hour and a half, went in the complete opposite direction we wanted to go, and even went off my map of Florence. Needless to say, we had quite an interesting tour of the city and it’s outskirts. At one point, I began to doubt if we would ever return to our stop, so I asked the bus driver, “Santa Maria Novella?” In response, he laughed. And that is how I knew we were as far away from it as we could possibly be. It is not good news when your bus driver laughs at your questions. But we made the best of it and tried to appreciate seeing a part of the city we hadn’t planned on seeing. It wasn’t exactly the most comfortable ride, mostly because the city buses are very bumpy and rickety, and also have hard chairs. At one point it got to be so bouncy my grandmother laughed through clenched dentures and said, “I’m afraid I’m going to lose my uppers!”
After our Florence adventures, I brought mom, Noni and Poppop to Sansepolcro on Sunday morning. They say it was the highlight of their trip, which makes me happy because it is my favorite, too. We went out to lunch and ate delicious homemade Tuscan food, I introduced them to Sansepolcran friends, Italian caffè, and showed them what the passagiata, or evening walk, is all about. The next morning, they left to go to Naples, Pompeii, and Rome before flying home. It was sad to say goodbye, but easier knowing that I will be home again in a few short weeks. And what wonderful memories we have to share together now!
Saturday, November 27, 2010
Monday, November 22, 2010
A Sculptor's Joy and Pain - from 11/9/10
“From such a gentle thing, from such a fountain of all delight, my every pain is born.”
- Michelangelo
Gentle and reverently compassionate, Michelangelo’s gaze casts a shadow of love and sweet passion combined with a knowing and solemn expression over his last Pietà. Perhaps the most powerful piece I have seen so far, this sculpture is my favorite. This Pietà is composed of four figures: Mary and Mary Magdalene supporting the dead, crucified body of Jesus, with Nicodemus above, who bears the likeness of Michelangelo himself. It is the last sculpture Michelangelo worked on and is one of his non finito, or unfinished pieces, because he died before it was completed. I have been longing to see it and finally had the chance this weekend when I returned to Florence and visited the Museo dell’Opera del Duomo.
Part of the reason the sculpture is so powerful and emotional is because of the time in his life that Michelangelo carved it. He was an old man growing older, and the knowledge of his approaching death was only made increasingly aware to him as he chiseled away at the marble block that was to become his tombstone. At points he was also extremely frustrated with the less-than-perfect marble and, pushed to the edge, beat it with a hammer, doing significant damage. Later, one of his apprentices tried to repair the damage but there are still very visible cracks on Christ’s arm and leg, reminding viewers of the physical effort required to carve marble and the difficulties this posed for an aging sculptor.
As soon as my eyes met Michelangelo’s in Nicodemus’ face, I was drawn in and must have stayed in the little room the Pietà inhabits for half an hour. It was one of those times that some invisible force maintains silence and forbids you to speak. I felt as if words would interfere with the reverent scene and, even if I wanted to speak, nothing I could think of to say could remotely compete with the profundity of what each of the figures were saying with their eyes and faces and still movements.
At first I thought it strange that Michelangelo would choose to include Nicodemus in the scene and that he would carve in him his own face. However, information in the museum explained this a little, suggesting that Michelangelo chose Nicodemus because both had a conversion experience later in life. In the Bible, Nicodemus was a Jewish Pharisee who came to Jesus one night. In their conversation, Jesus told him that he needed to be “born again” (John 3:3). Nicodemus was understandably confused, asking “How can someone be born when they are old?...Surely they cannot enter a second time into their mother’s womb to be born!” (John 3:4). However, Jesus explained this second birth is of the Spirit, a new eternal life given to those who believe in Jesus. This spiritual birth is something both Nicodemus and Michelangelo seem to share, and this comparison adds even more depth to a piece that is already an incredibly personal reflection.
I don’t know if I will ever get tired of looking at this Pietà, even though the intimate interactions between all of the figures almost make me feel like an intruder. There is something about Michelangelo’s expression—passion and grave knowledge, a tender compassion and acceptance—as he looks down on the death of Christ and anticipates his own death, that intrigues and mystifies me.
Sunday, November 14, 2010
From 11/2/10
On Saturday, several other girls and I were sitting in our favorite caffè. We sipped foamy cappuccinos, which we enjoyed almost as much as the dramatic scene taking place outside—an Italian conversation. It is true—watching Italians talk together is watching every emotion surge through the air, being tossed back and forth by swift hand movements. Hand gestures are as much a part of the Italian language as transitive verbs and the many uses of fare are. As we watched the group of Italians outside, their speech, facial expressions, and gestures were so animated that it made no difference that the glass between us prohibited sound waves—their body language was loud enough to compensate for the silence.
One thing I have acquired a taste for, besides prosciutto and EstaThè (the most delicious peach iced tea), is people-watching. It’s not just the lively Italian conversations I find appealing, but the restful quiet of sitting near the street, soaking up the town until it becomes a part of you. I have spent many afternoons at Gerasmo’s doing exactly that. Gerasmo’s is the best caffè in Sansepolcro, partly because it is directly across the street from our palazzo, but mainly because it is owned by Fabrizio and Sonia. They also have the most heavenly bomboloni (Italian doughnuts), but I think that is because Fabrizio and Sonia’s sweetness rubs off on the pastries. Friendliness makes everything taste better. They always talk with us when we come in, know all of our names, and they even sang happy birthday to Molly yesterday. It is nice to know people and to have faces to recognize, even when you are in a different country.
One of the things I love most about Sansepolcro is the closeness of the town. The fact that I can see several people I know walk down the street while I sit at Gerasmo’s sipping my cappuccino is charming. I also love that the town itself is small. From my bedroom window I can look down at the street and see Gerasmo’s, two pizzerias, and a gelateria. Everywhere I go I pass a friendly face or familiar place. Living in a small town has allowed us to truly become a part of the Sansepolcran community. Throughout our stay here, there have been many things that encouraged us to immerse ourselves into our community. First, we participated in the Balestra festival, an important tradition that we were blessed to be a part of. We also routinely have local guests for lunch, and we teach English in local schools.
This weekend, we had what seemed to be every Sansepolcro resident in our palazzo for a children’s Halloween party. Perhaps we shouldn’t have invited 200 elementary school students, because although the actual number of attendees was far below that, our modest dining room and lounge areas were bursting at the seams. But despite being crowded, it was a huge success. We spent most of the day beforehand doing Halloween grocery shopping and making decorations out of whatever materials we could find. By the time we finished, the palazzo was completely decked-out. There were spider webs on every window and door, orange balloons hanging from the lampshades, paper bats fluttering in the hallway, festive table cloths, a skeleton in the corner, and even a path of paper pumpkins, bats and ghosts from the front door leading up the stairs to the lounge.
When the children began to trickle in—or, more realistically, pour in—we had many activities planned to keep them busy. We had coloring, leaf-rubbings, noodle necklaces, cookie decorating, and fishing for candy. It hadn’t occurred to me until I was facing 20 brown-eyed Italian children and was trying to explain the crafts to them that none of them spoke English. Perhaps I took for granted the language abilities of my middle school students, but needless to say, I employed the sign language that, out of necessity, I have nearly perfected this semester. However, they seemed to have a wonderful time and it was very entertaining to see all the little witches, skeletons and other characters running around the palazzo. It was also a good feeling to invite everyone to our home. I think our guests enjoyed the opportunity to become acquainted with the ragazze americane, and it increased our sense of belonging in our Sansepolcran community.
In case it is not obvious, I am very much in love with the town. This love has even begun to manifest itself in my color theory projects, several of which are inspired by different things in Sansepolcro. Last week we had to create a design and repeat it in several different color schemes that we have been learning about. One had to be painted in primary colors (cyan, magenta and yellow), one in secondary colors (green, orange and violet), one in tertiary colors (blue-violet, blue-green, yellow-green, yellow-orange, red-orange, and red-violet), one in an analogous color scheme (three colors next to each other on the color wheel—I chose yellow-green, green and blue-green), and lastly, one in a monochromatic color scheme (different shades and tints of one color—I chose red). For my design, I created a simplified version of a photo I took of the bell tower here in Sansepolcro. I wanted to base my design on something Sansepolcran so that when I return home, I can take a little bit of the town with me. I was quite pleased with the way it turned out, and so glad that now I have something to remind me of my time in Italy when I am back at home.
One thing I have acquired a taste for, besides prosciutto and EstaThè (the most delicious peach iced tea), is people-watching. It’s not just the lively Italian conversations I find appealing, but the restful quiet of sitting near the street, soaking up the town until it becomes a part of you. I have spent many afternoons at Gerasmo’s doing exactly that. Gerasmo’s is the best caffè in Sansepolcro, partly because it is directly across the street from our palazzo, but mainly because it is owned by Fabrizio and Sonia. They also have the most heavenly bomboloni (Italian doughnuts), but I think that is because Fabrizio and Sonia’s sweetness rubs off on the pastries. Friendliness makes everything taste better. They always talk with us when we come in, know all of our names, and they even sang happy birthday to Molly yesterday. It is nice to know people and to have faces to recognize, even when you are in a different country.
One of the things I love most about Sansepolcro is the closeness of the town. The fact that I can see several people I know walk down the street while I sit at Gerasmo’s sipping my cappuccino is charming. I also love that the town itself is small. From my bedroom window I can look down at the street and see Gerasmo’s, two pizzerias, and a gelateria. Everywhere I go I pass a friendly face or familiar place. Living in a small town has allowed us to truly become a part of the Sansepolcran community. Throughout our stay here, there have been many things that encouraged us to immerse ourselves into our community. First, we participated in the Balestra festival, an important tradition that we were blessed to be a part of. We also routinely have local guests for lunch, and we teach English in local schools.
This weekend, we had what seemed to be every Sansepolcro resident in our palazzo for a children’s Halloween party. Perhaps we shouldn’t have invited 200 elementary school students, because although the actual number of attendees was far below that, our modest dining room and lounge areas were bursting at the seams. But despite being crowded, it was a huge success. We spent most of the day beforehand doing Halloween grocery shopping and making decorations out of whatever materials we could find. By the time we finished, the palazzo was completely decked-out. There were spider webs on every window and door, orange balloons hanging from the lampshades, paper bats fluttering in the hallway, festive table cloths, a skeleton in the corner, and even a path of paper pumpkins, bats and ghosts from the front door leading up the stairs to the lounge.
When the children began to trickle in—or, more realistically, pour in—we had many activities planned to keep them busy. We had coloring, leaf-rubbings, noodle necklaces, cookie decorating, and fishing for candy. It hadn’t occurred to me until I was facing 20 brown-eyed Italian children and was trying to explain the crafts to them that none of them spoke English. Perhaps I took for granted the language abilities of my middle school students, but needless to say, I employed the sign language that, out of necessity, I have nearly perfected this semester. However, they seemed to have a wonderful time and it was very entertaining to see all the little witches, skeletons and other characters running around the palazzo. It was also a good feeling to invite everyone to our home. I think our guests enjoyed the opportunity to become acquainted with the ragazze americane, and it increased our sense of belonging in our Sansepolcran community.
In case it is not obvious, I am very much in love with the town. This love has even begun to manifest itself in my color theory projects, several of which are inspired by different things in Sansepolcro. Last week we had to create a design and repeat it in several different color schemes that we have been learning about. One had to be painted in primary colors (cyan, magenta and yellow), one in secondary colors (green, orange and violet), one in tertiary colors (blue-violet, blue-green, yellow-green, yellow-orange, red-orange, and red-violet), one in an analogous color scheme (three colors next to each other on the color wheel—I chose yellow-green, green and blue-green), and lastly, one in a monochromatic color scheme (different shades and tints of one color—I chose red). For my design, I created a simplified version of a photo I took of the bell tower here in Sansepolcro. I wanted to base my design on something Sansepolcran so that when I return home, I can take a little bit of the town with me. I was quite pleased with the way it turned out, and so glad that now I have something to remind me of my time in Italy when I am back at home.
Saturday, November 13, 2010
From 10/27/10
Tour of Tuscany
This weekend we packed ten students, three faculty members, one Meredith alumna and one driver into a bus and spent three days exploring Val d’Orcia, one of the most scenic and beautiful parts of Tuscany. One of the purposes of the trip was to visit places that were historically important in WWII. Although I am not in the WWII class or the English class that has been learning about the war and Val d’Orcia, I was very glad that I could learn at least a little bit about each of the cities we traversed on the trip. We stopped in many towns and cities, including La Foce, Montepulciano, Montisi, Montalcino, Buonconvento, Siena, Bagno Vignoni, and Pienza.
In La Foce we walked around a famous villa owned by the Origo family. During WWII, they served as a refuge to anyone in need, especially to children and wounded soldiers. We could not go in but had to peek through the gate. However, we did get to walk through their cemetery and see their graves. The villa has some of the most gorgeous views in Italy, so of course we took the opportunity to snap many pictures while we were there. While looking out over the golden hills, it was difficult for me to believe that at one time the landscape was a dangerous war zone, suffering air raids and bombings. We also purchased some local olive oil on our stop, since the oil in that region is particularly good.
We traveled to so many places in such a short amount of time that, to be honest, it is difficult for me to remember exactly what each one was. However, they were all gorgeous historic towns, and most were on hills with beautiful views. On Saturday morning we stopped at a church near Montalcino that, to this day, holds traditional Latin masses. Although we were not able to attend the mass, we did get to walk around the church and see the 12th century carved wooden crucifix on the altar. Outside the church were several rustic, snarly olive trees and a view of the surrounding hills. It was one of the prettiest places I’ve been in Italy so far, with the green-gold grape vines lined across the hills, the terracotta earth and the early morning sun. While we were there, we also met a very nice English family with two children. The eldest, an energetic two year old, entertained all of us by chattering in the most adorable way and doing hilariously good impressions of American accents.
In Montepulciano, we trekked to the top of the city where we saw the place where part of New Moon, a Twilight movie, was filmed. Although I am not a fan of it, I did enjoy seeing the city and walking around the old buildings, some of which were owned by the Medici. In Buonconvento, there is a very interesting agricultural museum. It has well-organized, interactive exhibits that depict the lifestyles of Italian farmers. It was really eye-opening to see things such as farm equipment and wine presses and to learn about the many aspects of their everyday lives. Also, we made a brief stop in Bagno Vignoni, a town famous for its hot springs, which supposedly have healing properties. While there, we had a delicious lunch in a picturesque, terraced restaurant and enjoyed fresh homemade pasta. There is also a spot in the town where the water from the springs run and we walked down to it, stripped off our shoes and socks, and waded in the stream for a bit.
The biggest city we went to was Siena, which was our last stop on Sunday afternoon. Here, we walked around, grabbed some pizza, and visited the cathedral and other museums around it. The cathedral is truly astounding. It was somewhat reminiscent of the Duomo in Florence—it had a striped exterior, exquisite carved detailing on the front, a bell tower, and an impressive interior. One thing I was thrilled about was here we were allowed to take pictures inside. You may be certain that I took full advantage of this opportunity, a rarity in Italian museums, and returned home with a snapshot of every aspect on the building—from the incredibly detailed floor designs, to the tall marble columns, to the meticulously crafted inlaid wood choir chairs. The old inlaid wood is one of my absolute favorite art forms here. Using only wood, somehow the craftsmen were able to create scenes more vivid and detailed than many I have seen painted or sketched. It is truly mind-boggling to see the depth and dimension of the images or to think about the amount of labor that went into creating them.
Our Val d’Orcia trip was one of my favorites so far, simply because everywhere we went was breathtaking and drop-dead gorgeous. It was also very nice of Dr. Webb to organize a trip there, because it required much more private transportation and would not have been something we could easily do on one of our personal travel breaks. It was a different travel experience and a nice break from big cities like Florence or Venice.
Teaching
In our Italy Today class, we learn about all things Italy—mainly government, politics, some history, and also modern aspects of Italian life. Part of the requirements for the course is that we complete a service-learning component by teaching English in an Italian school. Each of us were assigned to a different school; I go to one of the middle schools and have two classes of 13 year olds. So far we have been to our classes three times, and it has been very interesting seeing the differences in Italian schools.
One unique aspect is the Italian school buildings, most of which are very ancient structures. Also, the education system itself is slightly different than in America. Here, children attend elementary, middle and high school. The elementary and middle schools are mostly the same as ours, but the high schools are very different. Italians attend high school for five years, not four, and graduate when they are 19. Also, there are many different high schools and children/children’s parents must choose which they attend depending on what field they would like to study in university later on. Just in a small town like Sansepolcro there is an economic and business high school, an art high school, a scientific high school, and linguistic high school, and a technical high school. The art and technical schools are not as good, and most of the students who attend those will not go to university when they graduate.
In my classes, I have introduced myself to the students, talked about holidays in America, and also talked about summer vacations. I brought in a projector and lots of pictures of my family and my house the first week and pictures depicting holiday traditions the second week. I am very surprised by how well my students speak in English. They have a decent vocabulary, are able to ask me questions and answer my questions, and can use several different verb tenses. And they are only 13. One thing that was strange to them is that I have a car, because in Italy you must be older to get a driver’s license. They also wanted to know if I had a moped. It was rather amusing and I tried to explain to them that the larger distances in America prevent mopeds from becoming as popular as they are here. They also had no idea what sweet potatoes or pies or Pilgrims are, but after my lesson they were well-informed in all things Thanksgiving. Teaching is a new experience for all of us, especially because we are teaching in Italian schools, but so far I am enjoying it very much and am looking forward to seeing my 50 students next week.
This weekend we packed ten students, three faculty members, one Meredith alumna and one driver into a bus and spent three days exploring Val d’Orcia, one of the most scenic and beautiful parts of Tuscany. One of the purposes of the trip was to visit places that were historically important in WWII. Although I am not in the WWII class or the English class that has been learning about the war and Val d’Orcia, I was very glad that I could learn at least a little bit about each of the cities we traversed on the trip. We stopped in many towns and cities, including La Foce, Montepulciano, Montisi, Montalcino, Buonconvento, Siena, Bagno Vignoni, and Pienza.
In La Foce we walked around a famous villa owned by the Origo family. During WWII, they served as a refuge to anyone in need, especially to children and wounded soldiers. We could not go in but had to peek through the gate. However, we did get to walk through their cemetery and see their graves. The villa has some of the most gorgeous views in Italy, so of course we took the opportunity to snap many pictures while we were there. While looking out over the golden hills, it was difficult for me to believe that at one time the landscape was a dangerous war zone, suffering air raids and bombings. We also purchased some local olive oil on our stop, since the oil in that region is particularly good.
We traveled to so many places in such a short amount of time that, to be honest, it is difficult for me to remember exactly what each one was. However, they were all gorgeous historic towns, and most were on hills with beautiful views. On Saturday morning we stopped at a church near Montalcino that, to this day, holds traditional Latin masses. Although we were not able to attend the mass, we did get to walk around the church and see the 12th century carved wooden crucifix on the altar. Outside the church were several rustic, snarly olive trees and a view of the surrounding hills. It was one of the prettiest places I’ve been in Italy so far, with the green-gold grape vines lined across the hills, the terracotta earth and the early morning sun. While we were there, we also met a very nice English family with two children. The eldest, an energetic two year old, entertained all of us by chattering in the most adorable way and doing hilariously good impressions of American accents.
In Montepulciano, we trekked to the top of the city where we saw the place where part of New Moon, a Twilight movie, was filmed. Although I am not a fan of it, I did enjoy seeing the city and walking around the old buildings, some of which were owned by the Medici. In Buonconvento, there is a very interesting agricultural museum. It has well-organized, interactive exhibits that depict the lifestyles of Italian farmers. It was really eye-opening to see things such as farm equipment and wine presses and to learn about the many aspects of their everyday lives. Also, we made a brief stop in Bagno Vignoni, a town famous for its hot springs, which supposedly have healing properties. While there, we had a delicious lunch in a picturesque, terraced restaurant and enjoyed fresh homemade pasta. There is also a spot in the town where the water from the springs run and we walked down to it, stripped off our shoes and socks, and waded in the stream for a bit.
The biggest city we went to was Siena, which was our last stop on Sunday afternoon. Here, we walked around, grabbed some pizza, and visited the cathedral and other museums around it. The cathedral is truly astounding. It was somewhat reminiscent of the Duomo in Florence—it had a striped exterior, exquisite carved detailing on the front, a bell tower, and an impressive interior. One thing I was thrilled about was here we were allowed to take pictures inside. You may be certain that I took full advantage of this opportunity, a rarity in Italian museums, and returned home with a snapshot of every aspect on the building—from the incredibly detailed floor designs, to the tall marble columns, to the meticulously crafted inlaid wood choir chairs. The old inlaid wood is one of my absolute favorite art forms here. Using only wood, somehow the craftsmen were able to create scenes more vivid and detailed than many I have seen painted or sketched. It is truly mind-boggling to see the depth and dimension of the images or to think about the amount of labor that went into creating them.
Our Val d’Orcia trip was one of my favorites so far, simply because everywhere we went was breathtaking and drop-dead gorgeous. It was also very nice of Dr. Webb to organize a trip there, because it required much more private transportation and would not have been something we could easily do on one of our personal travel breaks. It was a different travel experience and a nice break from big cities like Florence or Venice.
Teaching
In our Italy Today class, we learn about all things Italy—mainly government, politics, some history, and also modern aspects of Italian life. Part of the requirements for the course is that we complete a service-learning component by teaching English in an Italian school. Each of us were assigned to a different school; I go to one of the middle schools and have two classes of 13 year olds. So far we have been to our classes three times, and it has been very interesting seeing the differences in Italian schools.
One unique aspect is the Italian school buildings, most of which are very ancient structures. Also, the education system itself is slightly different than in America. Here, children attend elementary, middle and high school. The elementary and middle schools are mostly the same as ours, but the high schools are very different. Italians attend high school for five years, not four, and graduate when they are 19. Also, there are many different high schools and children/children’s parents must choose which they attend depending on what field they would like to study in university later on. Just in a small town like Sansepolcro there is an economic and business high school, an art high school, a scientific high school, and linguistic high school, and a technical high school. The art and technical schools are not as good, and most of the students who attend those will not go to university when they graduate.
In my classes, I have introduced myself to the students, talked about holidays in America, and also talked about summer vacations. I brought in a projector and lots of pictures of my family and my house the first week and pictures depicting holiday traditions the second week. I am very surprised by how well my students speak in English. They have a decent vocabulary, are able to ask me questions and answer my questions, and can use several different verb tenses. And they are only 13. One thing that was strange to them is that I have a car, because in Italy you must be older to get a driver’s license. They also wanted to know if I had a moped. It was rather amusing and I tried to explain to them that the larger distances in America prevent mopeds from becoming as popular as they are here. They also had no idea what sweet potatoes or pies or Pilgrims are, but after my lesson they were well-informed in all things Thanksgiving. Teaching is a new experience for all of us, especially because we are teaching in Italian schools, but so far I am enjoying it very much and am looking forward to seeing my 50 students next week.
Sunday, October 31, 2010
Love!
One year ago today, my sweet boyfriend Curtis came to pick me up and take me to a coffee shop for our very first date. Technically, it wasn't a date, but a Greek lesson. Geeky, but true. This past year it has been such a blessing to get to to know him and to be his girlfriend. I am so sorry that we can't be together for our anniversary, but we will be together again very soon: one month and nine days! I love you, Curtis!
Perugia
This is last week's journal entry, from October 19th:
After boldly proclaiming my love of tacos and bemoaning the lack of food variety in Italy in my last travel journal entry, I am happy to say that this week my taco craving was satisfied. Meredith H. spotted a taco kit in the grocery store, and, as you might guess, in practically no time we were on our way home with 24 taco shells, a large jar of salsa, nachos, tomatoes, olives, and 2,000 grams of ground beef. That night, all of us made a delicious Mexican feast. It was heavenly. Unfortunately we could not find any cheese remotely resembling cheddar, so we had to do without or substitute with parmesan. Despite a few minor setbacks, however, it was well worth it. I thought I ought to include this information as a conclusion to last week’s journal.
Continuing the food theme, this weekend we took a group excursion to EuroChocolate, an international chocolate festival. It goes on every year around this time and takes place in Perugia, the capital of our neighboring region, Umbria. Perugia is a beautiful historic city and, even though the weather was overcast and foggy, still had very pretty views from its hilltop location. Up and down the wide streets were chocolate vendors from all over the world, mainly from Europe. Lindt and Toblerone are the only names Americans might recognize, but there were vast amounts of others, too. I was feeling a little disappointed this week because at home the State Fair is going on, and I knew while all my friends would be going I would be missing it. However, EuroChocolate more than made up for it in crowds and calories, and I even got to ride on the Milka ferris wheel.
There were also exhibits about South America and the origins of chocolate. On one of the tables there were pamphlets, both in Italian and Spanish, and I picked up a Spanish one. The man at the table thought I was Italian and told me I could read the Italian pamphlet, if I’d like. I purposefully chose the Spanish pamphlet because I have taken much more of that language. However, since I have been learning Italian, I’ve been getting my languages slightly confused. When I tried to say to the man that I knew Spanish better, it came out as, “Mi espanol è mejor di italiano,” a jumbled mess that doesn’t really make sense in either language. Nevertheless, from the pamphlet I was able to learn a little about chocolate and the history of the cocoa bean. It seems that the best cocoa comes from Chuao, Venezuela. This part of Venezuela has a very particular altitude, temperature, humidity and climate that make its cocoa beans considered the best in the world because of their aroma and special taste. Since early colonization, this Venezuelan product has been in great demand in Europe, American and Asian markets. Before the high demand for oil, cocoa was the principal export of the country and a vital part of its economy. The cocoa bean has also always been a central part of the culture, sometimes having important religious and spiritual values, as well. At the exhibit, I even tasted some primitive Venezuelan cocoa concoctions. Frankly, they were disappointing: far from the smooth, magical deliciousness that is today’s chocolate.
EuroChocolate was a fun way to spend a Saturday, even though there were seas of people swarming the streets. One thing we have discovered about Italians is that they do not like to wait in lines, and you can imagine how difficult it is to make your way through a mass of people who do not like to wait their turn nor consider it rude to cut in front of you. We had to resort to forming a train by holding on to the person in front of us, like a group of elementary school students, to avoid being separated. This became quite tiring after a few hours, but we did come home with several chocolate novelties, including chocolate pasta and a chocolate map of Perugia.
Another exciting aspect of our trip to Perugia was that to get there, we had to ride on a different train. Usually when we travel we have to take an hour long bus ride from Sansepolcro to the larger city of Arezzo, and from there we can take a train to wherever we want to go. However, in Sansepolcro there is a small train that runs to Perugia, and so on Saturday I was able to experience that for the first time. I love trains—it is very peaceful to sit quietly and ride through the countryside, taking in the scenery. Something that surprised me is that whenever you go through tunnels on a train, your ears pop. My science major friend Meredith H. tells me this is because of a theory in physics that has to do with objects in motion creating different amounts of pressure. It is a strange phenomenon, because ear-popping is something you generally expect only on a plane. In any case, I am truly enjoying learning so many different means of traveling that I have never used before.
Until next time, ciao!
Emily
After boldly proclaiming my love of tacos and bemoaning the lack of food variety in Italy in my last travel journal entry, I am happy to say that this week my taco craving was satisfied. Meredith H. spotted a taco kit in the grocery store, and, as you might guess, in practically no time we were on our way home with 24 taco shells, a large jar of salsa, nachos, tomatoes, olives, and 2,000 grams of ground beef. That night, all of us made a delicious Mexican feast. It was heavenly. Unfortunately we could not find any cheese remotely resembling cheddar, so we had to do without or substitute with parmesan. Despite a few minor setbacks, however, it was well worth it. I thought I ought to include this information as a conclusion to last week’s journal.
Continuing the food theme, this weekend we took a group excursion to EuroChocolate, an international chocolate festival. It goes on every year around this time and takes place in Perugia, the capital of our neighboring region, Umbria. Perugia is a beautiful historic city and, even though the weather was overcast and foggy, still had very pretty views from its hilltop location. Up and down the wide streets were chocolate vendors from all over the world, mainly from Europe. Lindt and Toblerone are the only names Americans might recognize, but there were vast amounts of others, too. I was feeling a little disappointed this week because at home the State Fair is going on, and I knew while all my friends would be going I would be missing it. However, EuroChocolate more than made up for it in crowds and calories, and I even got to ride on the Milka ferris wheel.
There were also exhibits about South America and the origins of chocolate. On one of the tables there were pamphlets, both in Italian and Spanish, and I picked up a Spanish one. The man at the table thought I was Italian and told me I could read the Italian pamphlet, if I’d like. I purposefully chose the Spanish pamphlet because I have taken much more of that language. However, since I have been learning Italian, I’ve been getting my languages slightly confused. When I tried to say to the man that I knew Spanish better, it came out as, “Mi espanol è mejor di italiano,” a jumbled mess that doesn’t really make sense in either language. Nevertheless, from the pamphlet I was able to learn a little about chocolate and the history of the cocoa bean. It seems that the best cocoa comes from Chuao, Venezuela. This part of Venezuela has a very particular altitude, temperature, humidity and climate that make its cocoa beans considered the best in the world because of their aroma and special taste. Since early colonization, this Venezuelan product has been in great demand in Europe, American and Asian markets. Before the high demand for oil, cocoa was the principal export of the country and a vital part of its economy. The cocoa bean has also always been a central part of the culture, sometimes having important religious and spiritual values, as well. At the exhibit, I even tasted some primitive Venezuelan cocoa concoctions. Frankly, they were disappointing: far from the smooth, magical deliciousness that is today’s chocolate.
EuroChocolate was a fun way to spend a Saturday, even though there were seas of people swarming the streets. One thing we have discovered about Italians is that they do not like to wait in lines, and you can imagine how difficult it is to make your way through a mass of people who do not like to wait their turn nor consider it rude to cut in front of you. We had to resort to forming a train by holding on to the person in front of us, like a group of elementary school students, to avoid being separated. This became quite tiring after a few hours, but we did come home with several chocolate novelties, including chocolate pasta and a chocolate map of Perugia.
Another exciting aspect of our trip to Perugia was that to get there, we had to ride on a different train. Usually when we travel we have to take an hour long bus ride from Sansepolcro to the larger city of Arezzo, and from there we can take a train to wherever we want to go. However, in Sansepolcro there is a small train that runs to Perugia, and so on Saturday I was able to experience that for the first time. I love trains—it is very peaceful to sit quietly and ride through the countryside, taking in the scenery. Something that surprised me is that whenever you go through tunnels on a train, your ears pop. My science major friend Meredith H. tells me this is because of a theory in physics that has to do with objects in motion creating different amounts of pressure. It is a strange phenomenon, because ear-popping is something you generally expect only on a plane. In any case, I am truly enjoying learning so many different means of traveling that I have never used before.
Until next time, ciao!
Emily
Thursday, October 28, 2010
Tacos and Tests
I am sorry I've gotten a little behind with my blog. I've been writing every week, but just haven't had a chance to post online. Anyway, this is my entry from October 12th:
Strange though it may seem, I am craving tacos. Not just tacos, however, but any kind of food that is not pizza or that does not have pasta as the main ingredient. In comparison with the United States, Italy is sorely lacking in diversity in food and other areas, as well. How many times have we referred to ourselves as “the melting pot,” a mix of immigrants from all over the globe, somehow blending together to form the American culture? This lack of diversity is not necessarily a bad thing, but when you are used to being able to choose from Italian, Chinese, Thai, Mexican, Indian, endless fast food options or countless other types of cuisine on any given night, it takes some adjusting to the less varied Italian dining experience.
Especially in a small town such as Sansepolcro, there are few restaurant selections. Off the top of my head, I can think of about ten pizzerias inside the walls of the town, and six gelaterias in close proximity to the palazzo. To shake things up a bit, there is also a Chinese restaurant and a Kebab shop. The Kebab shops are small, usually run by immigrants from the Middle East, and seem to be quite popular. We have spotted them in Florence, Venice, Urbino, Assisi, Verona, Bologna, and every other town we have visited. They make very good sandwiches of some sort of mysterious shaved and spiced meat and served with lettuce, tomato and yoghurt sauce. Clearly, America has a great deal of variety because it is represented by people that come from many different countries. Italy, on the other hand, has a very long history and is much more engrained with tradition.
Although we did not travel anywhere, this week was very busy. For our full-semester classes we had midterms, and for Italian I and Art History, which were condensed into half of a semester, we had finals. Every day this week we had either a test, exam, oral presentation, or paper due and some days we had multiple things. After endless studying, sleep deprivation, and much anxiety and stress, it was heavenly to take a nap this afternoon.
Despite the difficulties this week has dished out, I am very thankful I have the opportunity to study here, and I have learned much more in this semester than I did in any of my classes last year. On Friday during my final oral exam in Italian, I was amazed to realize that, after only six weeks here, I am able to hold a (simple) conversation in a language that I had never been exposed to previously. Mi chiamo Emily e ho ventiannove anni. Sono di Wake Forest ma abito a Sansepolcro. (My name is Emily and I am nineteen. I am from Wake Forest but I live in Sansepolcro.) I can understand basic directions, order food, describe people, and also discuss a few other general topics.
I’ve also been learning quite a bit about art, as you probably noticed in my previous journal entries. It is a very special experience to discuss a painting in class, and then go see the painting in person. Not only does it allow you to see and study the painting better, but it also cements the knowledge in your head, because you remember the painting more distinctly when it is associated with a particular museum or other aspects of the experience. In addition to the art history class, I am taking color theory, which has been very interesting, too. So far, I have been introduced to the harder-than-it-looks world of mixing paints and basics aspects of color theory, such as how color coming from a computer screen is different from color we see in physical pigments, and how colors are relative and their proximity to each other effects the way we perceive them.
After doing nothing all week except for sitting in my bedroom and studying, Saturday brought a welcome change when we celebrated the one year anniversary of Meredith College in Sansepolcro. In the morning, we had the opportunity to meet the mayor of Sansepolcro. He welcomed us kindly and warmly said we were an important asset to the town and he is happy to have us. Later in the evening, after much tidying up, sweeping and wall-scrubbing, we opened the palazzo to the entire community for an open house. It was a pleasure to celebrate with the many friends and acquaintances we and Dr. Webb and John Rose have been accumulating here.
Strange though it may seem, I am craving tacos. Not just tacos, however, but any kind of food that is not pizza or that does not have pasta as the main ingredient. In comparison with the United States, Italy is sorely lacking in diversity in food and other areas, as well. How many times have we referred to ourselves as “the melting pot,” a mix of immigrants from all over the globe, somehow blending together to form the American culture? This lack of diversity is not necessarily a bad thing, but when you are used to being able to choose from Italian, Chinese, Thai, Mexican, Indian, endless fast food options or countless other types of cuisine on any given night, it takes some adjusting to the less varied Italian dining experience.
Especially in a small town such as Sansepolcro, there are few restaurant selections. Off the top of my head, I can think of about ten pizzerias inside the walls of the town, and six gelaterias in close proximity to the palazzo. To shake things up a bit, there is also a Chinese restaurant and a Kebab shop. The Kebab shops are small, usually run by immigrants from the Middle East, and seem to be quite popular. We have spotted them in Florence, Venice, Urbino, Assisi, Verona, Bologna, and every other town we have visited. They make very good sandwiches of some sort of mysterious shaved and spiced meat and served with lettuce, tomato and yoghurt sauce. Clearly, America has a great deal of variety because it is represented by people that come from many different countries. Italy, on the other hand, has a very long history and is much more engrained with tradition.
Although we did not travel anywhere, this week was very busy. For our full-semester classes we had midterms, and for Italian I and Art History, which were condensed into half of a semester, we had finals. Every day this week we had either a test, exam, oral presentation, or paper due and some days we had multiple things. After endless studying, sleep deprivation, and much anxiety and stress, it was heavenly to take a nap this afternoon.
Despite the difficulties this week has dished out, I am very thankful I have the opportunity to study here, and I have learned much more in this semester than I did in any of my classes last year. On Friday during my final oral exam in Italian, I was amazed to realize that, after only six weeks here, I am able to hold a (simple) conversation in a language that I had never been exposed to previously. Mi chiamo Emily e ho ventiannove anni. Sono di Wake Forest ma abito a Sansepolcro. (My name is Emily and I am nineteen. I am from Wake Forest but I live in Sansepolcro.) I can understand basic directions, order food, describe people, and also discuss a few other general topics.
I’ve also been learning quite a bit about art, as you probably noticed in my previous journal entries. It is a very special experience to discuss a painting in class, and then go see the painting in person. Not only does it allow you to see and study the painting better, but it also cements the knowledge in your head, because you remember the painting more distinctly when it is associated with a particular museum or other aspects of the experience. In addition to the art history class, I am taking color theory, which has been very interesting, too. So far, I have been introduced to the harder-than-it-looks world of mixing paints and basics aspects of color theory, such as how color coming from a computer screen is different from color we see in physical pigments, and how colors are relative and their proximity to each other effects the way we perceive them.
After doing nothing all week except for sitting in my bedroom and studying, Saturday brought a welcome change when we celebrated the one year anniversary of Meredith College in Sansepolcro. In the morning, we had the opportunity to meet the mayor of Sansepolcro. He welcomed us kindly and warmly said we were an important asset to the town and he is happy to have us. Later in the evening, after much tidying up, sweeping and wall-scrubbing, we opened the palazzo to the entire community for an open house. It was a pleasure to celebrate with the many friends and acquaintances we and Dr. Webb and John Rose have been accumulating here.
Friday, October 8, 2010
A Titanic Experience
This weekend marked the beginning of my independent travel adventures. My roommate Meredith and I went to beautiful Venice, which was, of course, very exciting. However, another exciting aspect of our trip was that, apart from some helpful advice from Dr. Webb, we planned the trip ourselves. It was the first time I had ever found a hotel on my own, and the very first time I had ever been on an overnight trip without an “adult.” From Friday to Sunday, we managed successfully to catch four buses, five trains, and countless vaporetti (the aquatic bus system of Venice). That is an accomplishment considering, that until a month ago, we had never used public transportation.
Not surprisingly, our weekend excursion was not without a few glitches, but these served only to give us better experience and a few stories to look back on and laugh at. When we arrived in Venice, we had a hotel reservation for Friday night, but not for Saturday night. We contacted several places ahead of time but all were full, so we headed to Venice in hopes that our Friday hotel would have a cancellation for the next night. When this plan failed, we picked up a hotel book from the tourist office and spent an hour in Piazza San Marco on Saturday morning making phone calls. By the 40th call, Meredith and I felt as if we were rehearsing a script:
Hotel Person: Buon Giorno! [Italian words I didn’t understand]
Me: Ciao! Parla inglese?
Hotel Person: Si, a little.
Me: I am looking for a double room for tonight. Do you have any available?
Hotel Person: No, I’m sorry madam, we are all full.
Thankfully, we eventually found a hotel on the Lido, a long island about a 30 minute vaporetto ride from the main island of Venice. We were not sure what we would find when we arrived, since we chose the hotel without having any information about it except the name. However, it turned out to be beautiful and even nicer than our hotel on Friday, which was the same price but somewhat dirty, smelly, and left much to be desired. Our slightly stressful ordeal of finding a last-minute hotel turned into an evening spent in a lovely, immaculate room eating the most delicious pizza and pastries and watching Shrek 3 in Italian before bed.
Once all our travel plans were settled, Meredith and I were able to enjoy exploring Venice. First we visited the island of Murano, which is famous for its glass. The glass makers’ kilns started many fires, and so in 1292 the glass artisans were forced to leave the main island of Venice and relocate to Murano. At the Museo Vetrario there were many glass exhibits, some from as far back as the first century A.D. The large collection from that time period contained very practical objects, such as cups or vases, and, although of a more simple design and cloudier glass, they were incredibly delicate and well formed. It is astounding to think that civilizations so ancient had the ability to create objects so beautiful and refined, and it is even more astounding that the fragile glass relics have survived for thousands of years. The museum exhibits are displayed chronologically, and as we walked into later centuries, eventually arriving at the 20th, it was very interesting to see the progression of using glass making as an artistic medium, rather than solely as a means of forming practical objects. Some of the pieces were like three-dimensional brightly colored paintings, and truly mind-boggling to look at. Actually, many of the pieces were glass interpretations of works by other artists, such as Picasso. In fact, there was even a glass version of Michelangelo’s Pietà.
Later, we stumbled upon a free glass-making demonstration. The demonstrator made creating a delicate piece of art look easier than breathing. He pulled a red hot blob out of the fire on a long metal rod and with another metal tool poked it here, pulled it there, twirled it around and in about a minute, held up a nearly cooled rearing horse. After that, Meredith and I wandered down little streets until we ended up in a truly Italian area of Murano, without any tourists in view. We sat down at a café where we lunched on mortadella sandwiches (a type of meat that comes from Bologna) with the locals. Before we left the island, we browsed in more glass stores than I could count until we found some good buys and a few Christmas presents. My favorite purchase is a pair of earrings made of pink Murano glass with sparkling gold swirls.
We spent the rest of the day in Venice proper. It truly is a gorgeous city, far more so than I anticipated. The effortlessly arched bridges, elegant statues and architecture, and rosy pink houses against the sea green water form a superfluously romantic setting. Aside from pushing, shoving tourists, Venice is very quiet and serene, I think because of the absence of cars and other noisy disturbances. Meredith and I thought about taking the iconic gondola ride, but decided against it. For one thing, it is expensive; for another, I don’t think sitting in a romantic gondola looking into Meredith’s eyes would be quite the same as looking into my boyfriend Curtis’. One evening we sat in Piazza San Marco, a large square surrounded by the Doge’s Palace, the Basilica of San Marco, and other beautiful buildings that are lit up at night. It is lined with cafés, which have musicians playing swooning melodies. The Piazza is also filled with couples who sit and stare into each other’s eyes as the music swirls around them, or dance together, or simply walk slowly and hold hands. The entire scene is so picturesque it is dripping with melodrama. It was almost reminiscent of the scene in the movie Titanic when the boat is sinking, teary farewells are being made, and in the midst of it all the string quartet is playing touching songs to the last.
I think part of the reason Venice is so romanticized is because it is mainly a tourist town—a show put on—but not so much lived in by “real” people. Venice has a long history with lots of ups and downs—literally. Venice is sinking, and floods many times a year. In fact, while I was walking around I saw what appeared to be stacked benches or tables, but what were actually the “sidewalks” Venetians use when there is too much flooding to walk on the ground. In 1966 there was a particularly bad flood, and since that year Venice’s population has shrunk from 150,000 to around 65,000. The flooding along with the fact that everything on an island is more expensive makes living in the famous city very difficult.
Venice truly is a one-of-a-kind city. It first became populated after the fall of the Roman Empire, when the Lombards invaded, forcing some people in Northern Italy onto Venice. Eventually, the Venetians governed themselves by electing a doge, or duke. Because the island of Venice is isolated and easy to defend, this is where the doge built his palace. Over time, other nobles wanted to build their palaces near the doge’s, and so Venice became populated with the wealthy. Its strategic location made it the dominant trade center, and in the Renaissance it was one of the biggest and most important city-states in Italy. Unlike other regions of Italy with land-based feudal systems, Venice’s unique situation created a merchant-based nobility. Even before the 12th century, bridges and canals appeared as a means of connecting the nobles living on the many different islands of Venice. Eventually Venice began to lose its political, military and trade power, but still remained popular through the 18th and 19th centuries as a tourist destination for the wealthy.
Going to Venice was a unique experience for me, one that probably will not be matched since it is completely unlike any other city. Sitting on the back of a vaporetto at night while gliding through the quiet water past ancient candle-lit buildings and pulling up to the steps of cathedrals was a beautiful and ethereal experience. I can’t wait to go back.
Thursday, September 30, 2010
Art, Food, and Fashion
Piero della Francesca
Battista Sforza e Federico da Montefeltro, Uffizi Gallery, FlorenceOne of the artists our art history class has studied a great deal is, not surprisingly, Piero della Francesca, who was born here in Sansepolcro. So far we have been to the Museo Civico down the street to see his Resurrection of Christ, as well as Madonna della Misericordia. A week or two ago we took a class trip to Arezzo to see his multiple frescoes depicting the Legend of the True Cross, including The Annunciation, in the apse of the Basilica of San Francesco. We also were able to see what is probably his most famous work, his portraits of Battista Sforza and Federico da Montefeltro, in the Uffizi Gallery in Florence. Then this past weekend, we went on a day trip to Urbino, where we visited the Ducal Palace of Federico da Montefeltro (the man in the portrait with the funny nose). Here we saw even more works by Piero, Madonna con Bambino and Flagellazione. It has been very intriguing, studying art in person as we are learning about it. Art history is combined into an intense half-semester class, and I will be very, very sad next week when it ends.
The Annunciation, Church of Saint Francis, Arezzo
Although it is nearly impossible to pick a favorite, I think I most enjoyed seeing The Legend of the True Cross frescoes in Arezzo. They are a series of frescoes in the front of the Church of Saint Francis which show a popular legend during the Renaissance. The basic story goes that, after Adam died, his son Seth took a seedling from the Tree of Good and Evil and planted it in his mouth. The tree that grew from it went through a long, complicated history of being cut down, used, and hidden until finally it was used to form the cross Jesus was crucified on. After Christ, the cross was lost, sought after, finally found, tested, and found to have miraculous qualities. Piero’s frescoes depict this story in many, many different scenes which are spread up, down and all around the front of the Church of Saint Francis. The frescoes of the story are not laid out linearly, but scattered from one wall to another, back and forth. Standing in the center and looking up at the beautiful artwork in every direction is an experience looking at pictures of the individual scenes does not allow. There is definitely much to be gained from visiting artwork in person. Had we only looked at pictures of these in a book, we might have missed a lot. For example, while standing in the church, Professor Banker pointed out to us that the lighting in the paintings (with the exception of one done by an apprentice) follows the natural lighting in the room, something all good Renaissance artists strived to achieve. The most famous of these scenes are The Annunciation, where Gabriel announces to Mary that God has chosen her to be the mother of His Son, and also The Queen of Sheba, where the Queen comes to visit King Solomon.
Flagellazione, Ducal Palace, UrbinoIn Urbino we saw the palace of Federico da Montefeltro, the man in the famous portrait done by Piero that you have probably seen before. He was a very powerful duke and extremely wealthy. In fact, he earned more money every year than was in the Medici bank. After walking through the Ducal Palace I gathered that he might also have been slightly egotistical, because everywhere—on the walls and ceilings—were symbols representing Federico and his power, such as the eagle. In the palace we were able to look at the Flagellation of Christ, by Piero. It is a very interesting painting because it has two groups of men whose identities remain a mystery. One of them reappears in several of Piero’s paintings, and some scholars argue that he was a prominent lawyer at the time and a relation of Piero. The painting also shows how well Piero could use linear perspective—the idea that lines in a painting converge at some point in the distance. In addition to being a talented painter, Piero was also a brilliant mathematician. He rediscovered several mathematical concepts that had not been used since ancient Greece, and could expertly calculate lines and ratios in his compositions.
I Vestiti
In the past few weeks there has been so much happening that I have not been able to squeeze anything about fashion into my journal until now. One of the first things I noticed when we arrived was the differences in the way people dress, especially the men. Many Italian men are not afraid to dress boldly, and often sport brightly colored pants in purple, red, teal, gold, deep rose, or orange, as well as a variety of striped or patterned shirts. Both men and women tend to wear over-the-shoulder bags, as well as sweaters, which are generally tied around the shoulders. Also, it seems that women like to wear pants with a plethora of pockets, almost cargo-style. There are also fewer people who walk out of the house in sweats and tennis shoes, or dressed sloppily as if they just rolled out of bed. Italians aren’t all perfect pictures of fashion, but in general they always seem to look presentable at least.
Buon Appetito!
Before I came to Italy, I thought the idea of Italians eating mounds of pasta and pizza was just a myth, a stereotype. It’s not. Since I have been here, I have eaten pizza and/or pasta every day. That being said, it is delicious and greatly varied, and I don’t think I have had the same type of pasta more than twice in the month I’ve spent here. There are also many different types of pizza. So far, the strangest pizza I’ve ordered was carrot pizza, and my favorite toppings are prosciutto and artichoke.
Margarita cooks gorgeous lunches for us during the week, and I am afraid I am getting very spoiled. Somehow I don’t think I will be able to get salad, soup, bread, pasta, a meat, vegetables, dessert and other dishes for lunch when I come back home. Surprisingly, my favorite parts of our lunches are the vegetables. Who knew there were dozens of ways to cook zucchini, all equally delicious? Or that caramelized onions were so irresistible? Or that eggplant tastes good in contexts other than eggplant parmesan?
Another important part of the Italian diet is coffee. Cafés never cease to have droves of people buzzing in and out, downing espressos. I used not to like coffee, but now I drink it every day. It is impossible to resist getting a cappuccino or latte when they only cost one euro and from my bedroom window I can see the café sitting on the street, calling my name.
Friday, September 24, 2010
Textures
One thing that has been inspiring me artistically is the variety of textures present everywhere. Although there are many, many different textures in the U.S., there is still a tendency towards perfectly straight, clean-cut lines, pure white houses with uniform black shutters, neighborhoods with matching mailboxes, and smooth, flat blacktop streets. When I walk down the street in Sansepolcro, I begin my journey treading on a stone tile-like street, eventually encounter classic cobblestone, sometimes run into bumpy rock paths, or sometimes meet rustic steps, of which there are no two alike. None of the buildings have smooth vinyl siding. Instead, they are covered by creamy yellow- or rose-colored plaster, which peels off in grungy patches, revealing the gray walls beneath. Some walls are made of bricks, some of stones, some of large slabs of rock. Even the roofs are highly textured; it is a mystery to me how crumbly terracotta relics can keep rain from leaking down inside, yet they seem to work well enough.
Some of these textures may seem like small details, and of course they are. But however subtle, the many textures of the streets serve as a backdrop for Italian life—a blending of vecchio and nuovo, a mixture of preserving the past and living in the present. I hope to continue discovering and relishing new textures and to incorporate them into my own art this semester. As of yet I have only observed and photographed them, but before long my art projects may begin to be very texturally influenced.
Some of these textures may seem like small details, and of course they are. But however subtle, the many textures of the streets serve as a backdrop for Italian life—a blending of vecchio and nuovo, a mixture of preserving the past and living in the present. I hope to continue discovering and relishing new textures and to incorporate them into my own art this semester. As of yet I have only observed and photographed them, but before long my art projects may begin to be very texturally influenced.
Thursday, September 23, 2010
Firenze
Florence at Night, from Piazzale Michelangelo Friday morning it happened—an event I looked forward to and anticipated since this summer. We went to Florence (or Firenze, as Italians say). I could scarcely contain my excitement at the thought of visiting a hefty chunk of the world’s famous art, and I could barely hide my nervous anticipation at the thought of traveling in a big city on my own. Happily, the art was better than even I in my blissful enthusiasm imagined, and the traveling was easier than my anxious mind thought possible.
Top: Statues in Piazza della SignoraBottom: Meredith and I with the Arno River and Ponte Vecchio in the Background
As part of our Learn to Travel class we were required to read about Florence and make preparations for the trip, although the extent of our planning was left up to us. At first I thought I would leave Florence having seen only half of what I wanted to, simply because there is so much to see. However, I was pleasantly surprised by the amount of activities we were able to squeeze into two and a half days, mainly due to our copious preparations. In total, I visited:
- The Uffizi Gallery, which houses the largest collection of Renaissance paintings in the world,
- The Accademia, home to Michelangelo’s David and Prisoners sculptures,
- The Bargello, which has many sculptures, including Donatello’s sassy David,
- The Duomo of Santa Maria del Fiore, tallest building in Florence and an icon of Renaissance architecture,
- The Medici Chapels, the Medici tombs carved by Michelangelo,
- The Archeology museum, which has a large Egyptian exhibit and several mummies,
- The Modern Art exhibit in the Pitti Palace, former home of the Medici family, as well as
- Piazzale Michelangelo, a hill on the outside of the city with beautiful views.
Top: On top of the Duomo, with a View of Florence in the BackgroundBottom: The Amazing Detailing on the Front of the Duomo
All of these were wonderful experiences, but my favorite by far was the Uffizi Gallery. Standing a foot away from Botticelli’s Birth of Venus, Primavera, Madonnas, and Pallas and the Centaur, I found the experience otherworldly and it left me spell-bound. It was a feeling impossible to achieve by looking at the paintings in a book. In The Birth of Venus I was captivated by its magnificent size and by Botticelli’s delicate use of shiny gold detailing in Venus’ hair, in the Wind’s wings, in the flowers suspended in the air. My Uffizi guidebook noted that though Venus is very beautiful, Botticelli painted her innocently, not sensually. He also thought that God could be honored through the manifestations of beauty in His creation.
Botticelli did paint beautifully. In art history, we have been discussing different cultural influences in artists’ works. One thing Botticelli was influenced by was dance, as is evidenced by the way he grouped his graceful figures. His figures’ faces also draw the viewer in. I could stare into the sweet, serene eyes of his Venus, Pallas, or Madonnas all day.
Michelangelo’s David in the Accademia was breathtaking, as well. His sheer size is stunning and it is difficult to imagine the effort used to create this vision of strength and beauty from a piece of rock. It’s funny that David ended up being a masterpiece, because originally the marble block Michelangelo carved him from was rejected by other sculptors because it was flawed and too poor to use. But Michelangelo believed God placed the beautiful figures into the marble already, and the sculptor’s job was to reveal it. This way of thinking is clear in his other statues in the Accademia, the Prisoners, a series of people who seem to stretch and pull themselves from the unfinished marble blocks that hold them captive.
In addition to the many aspects of art we studied while in Florence, another purpose of our trip was to learn the basics of using public transportation. It was the first time I had ever ridden a “real” bus and train, and I was quite nervous about it. Thankfully, Dr. Webb gave us thorough instructions and we managed to get around very well, both within the city and from Florence back to Sansepolcro. The bus drivers were very helpful and always told us when to get off if we weren’t sure of our stop, and the people we asked for directions always gave them graciously and were not agitated by our sometimes pathetic attempts at speaking Italian. Now, although I might not know everything there is to know about catching a train or finding the correct bus stop, I feel much more confident in my ability to figure it out or at least find the right people to ask.
On the Train Home
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