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After my epic morning spent in the Russian consulate, I thought that I would take the afternoon to de-compress in Rome. I had a pleasantly full-coloured free map from my hostel and nothing but time left. So, I walked. And walked, and walked, and walked. Rome covers... much more surface area than Florence. And that's your warning. Granted, I was coming from the periferia (the suburbs, the 'burbs), but the size and scale of Rome is far vaster than Florence. Or, now I could kind of understand why most Italians regard Florence as kind of a backwater compared to Roma or Milano. In one afternoon, I walked (yes, I calculated it on Google Maps) 4.6 kilometers from the Russian consulate to the Piazza Navona, and probably more because I didn't take the direct route. Then I walked all the way back to Roma Stazione Termini, another three or so kilometers. On the way there and back, I stopped by the Triton fountain, designed by Bernini in the 16th Century; the Trevi fountain, a mess; and walked up the steps to one of the many papal palaces, whose name is escaping me, but one that I really enjoyed? I stopped for a snack of pinenut meringue-cookie things that were predictably delicious, as has been basically everything I've eaten since arriving in Italy. There are pictures of all of these things coming, I promise.
Speaking of the Trevi Fountain, avoid it if you can. I know it has a ton of history and even more appearances in pop culture magic, but all of that mystique is stripped away when you are actually there. The piazza is literally packed to the gills with tourists wandering aimlessly about, living statues, and street vendors who only seem to sell strange 'souvenirs,' all of which are required to make obnoxious noises. It's very hard to get a good picture of the fountain, and you are (or, at least I was) ready to scream from the sheer number of bodies packed into one small space after two minutes.
The obnoxiously huge crowd in front of the Trevi Fountain:
This was still Friday afternoon, and after arriving at the train station, I decided that I wasn't quite ready to return to Florence yet. So I went to Bologna instead. My friend Rachel, whom I went to high school with, is studying there for the year, at the Universitá di Bologna, and had an apartment with a spare bed. I ended up only staying for a night and a morning, but I hope to go back before I leave here. In Bologna, we met up with some of Rachel's friends from her program and grabbed dinner at a little osteria, Osteria dall'Ursa (restaurant of the female bear). I had a pasta there whose shape was called 'gramigna,' and I'd be lying if I said I didn't order it solely because I was interested in what shape it was. Kind of hilariously, the pasta bore more than a striking resemblance to worms. After dinner the six of us went to an amazing gelateria simply name 'Il Gelatauro.' If you are ever in Bologna, go to 98 via San Vitale and have gelato there. I got cioccalatto e arancia again, mixed with the verde con marron glacés (green tea with candied chesnuts), which was a very... interesting combination. I really want to try zenzero next time, which is ginger-flavored gelato. We simply went home to bed after that, because Rachel had to be up early for a trip to Urbino the next morning, and I was dead tired from my probably-at-least-eight-kilometers of walking.
Saturday morning I woke up fairly early, around eight. I was going to Lucca, a little Tuscan town, maybe an hour and a half from Florence, two and a half from Bologna. The story behind why I wanted to go to Lucca goes something like this: for my internship/position at The Florentine, my first story was to be about the Tuscan locations that Spike Lee had shot around for his new movie, Miracolo a Sant'Anna. One of the towns, Barga, was pretty easily accessible from Lucca, and I wanted to go on Sunday. But first, Lucca.Lucca was awesome. I loved it. It's probably my favorite place in Italy, right now. More than Florence, more than Assisi. It's a medieval city whose massive walls are still completely intact. Therefore, all Luccans/the Lucchese (and all the visitors) can walk/bike/jog on top of 'la mura di cittá' and take in the views of the Tuscan hills in the distance. When the carabinieri aren't looking, you can even walk on the parapet of the wall itself, until they see you and shoo you off...
Here's a photo of the view from la mura di cittá:
Another of aspect of Lucca that I loved was the size - it was perfect for a day trip or an afternoon/evening/morning excursion. And it's only a five euro train ride away! I'm utterly in love. Anyways, I walked around most of the city that afternoon, went into the Duomo and the other chiese (churches), and generally had a really good time. Oh, a note about the architecture, Lucca is only twenty minutes from Pisa, and most of the religious architecture is in the style of the Pisa Romanesque, which as I discovered, is really kind of heinous. Like, just plain ugly.
Per esempio:
But I digress, and I'll have photographic proof, too. I also ate incredibly well that night, at a little trattoria close to my hostel. I had the full Italian dinner - primi, secondi, plus wine and coffee. I started with a 'piatto tipico di Lucchese,' (typical Lucchese dish) zuppa di farine, basically a barley soup. Then I had trippa alla toscana, tripe cooked fork-tender in a tomato, celery, and carrot sauce. For dessert I ordered crostata con fichi fresce e noci, fresh fig tart with walnuts, and a macchiato. Molta, molta buona. And for the seventh time, pictures to come, soon!Pictures of my courses:
Zuppa di farine:
Trippa alla toscana:
Crostata con fichi fresce e noci:
Sunday morning dawned bright and early, again, and at least I thought that I was going to be in Barga shortly. But once I arrived at the bus station, I was kindly informed by the ticket agent that the only bus to Barga left at 10:25 and returned at 1:00, leaving me a little less than two hours in the town proper, therefore kind of not worth it at all. Oh well. I left, walked around (on top!) of the walls until I got back to the train station, and hopped on the train back to Florence instead. It being the last Sunday of the month, I knew that the flea market at the Piazza di Ciompi was going on, and therefore I obviously had to stop by. I'm not sure if I've mentioned this on the blog yet, but for about a week, I was obsessed with buying this vintage accordion that I found in the smaller, daily incarnation of the flea market there. Anyways, I didn't buy it (probably thankfully) but I knew I wanted to check out the bigger version of the market. And now, instead of wanting to buy an instrument of dubious quality that I can't play, I want to buy cameras of equally dubious quality that I don't have the foggiest idea how to use. Ah, c'est la... But, E.B., I've found both Fed and Zenit cameras at these markets, and obviously I think of your on-a-blanket-in-the-mud purchases.
Then-I-went-home-then-I-changed-and-went-back-to-school-to-do-homework. Lame! But that's what Sunday was like. Whew.
EDIT: 18:04, 02/10/08: With promised photographic proof!
Oy vey. Very, very, very full weekend, again. It starts Thursday afternoon, when I hopped on the local train from Florence to Rome, for a mission to get a visa to Russia. You should know that though the local train is very cheap (16 euro and change to go to Rome, as compared to 35 euro for the Eurostar) it is very, very slow. It took nearly five hours to get to Rome from Florence, including a rather interesting delay... somewhere between the two cities; I have no idea what godforsaken town the train simply stopped at for nearly an hour. What made it a little bit more interesting was the mother and daughter sitting opposite me: the daughter started fidgetting profusely at around the half-hour mark of delay, and even with the language gap, I could tell that she was very anxious to arrive in Rome, perhaps to see a long-distance love? That would be the only factor I could think of that would leave her as agitated as she was. Who knows, I just made up one more-hairbrained-than-the-next story about them, just because I could. Anyways, I got to Rome, I had a mediocre dinner in the train station because I was tired and couldn't bother, and checked into my hostel for the night, which was filled with what certainly seemed like an entire high school of German students, but luckily none of them were in my room, 'South America.'
Friday morning dawned bright and early, as I began what was going to be (unbeknownest to me at the time) a very long morning. I have a picture of my breakfast, because the cornetto con cioccalato (chocolate crossaint) that I had was legitimately bigger than the cup my cappuccino came in, and the coffee cup was certainly sizable.
The only good thing about Friday morning:
From there, I left for the Russian embassy, a fairly short and very pretty walk from my hostel. I took a lot of pictures of the Roman houses along the way, all excellent examples of late Renaissance and early Baroque architecture. Upon arriving at the Russian embassy, the most hilariously, absurdly well-guarded building I've ever happened upon, I was told, in a roundabout fashion in very broken English, that I was supposed to be at the Russian consulate for all visa-related matters. Crap. Of course the consulate was nearly two kilometers in the other direction (though I didn't know that at the time, either), and of course it closed (or so I was told) at noon. It being ten at the time, I thought I had plenty of time to walk over to the via Nomentana, 16. After a broken-Italian conversation with the lawyer's office at via Nomentana 16 and instructions from the very courteous concierge at a hotel that the Russian consulate was actually located at via Nomentana 116, I was not hopeful of my prospects. The walk is always less scenic when you are stressed.
I got to the Russian consulate, was let in another ridiculously well-guarded gate, and was told that the visa department was on il primo piano, the first floor. I automatically assumed that the first floor was technically the second first, because Italians and most Europeans count the ground floor separately. Another wait of about thirty minutes commenced outside a closed door, where I bonded with a Russian-Italian baby, but where it turns out was emphatically not where I was supposed to be. An admonishing Russian matron herded me downstairs, promptly told me that the visa forms I had filled out prior to coming were the wrong ones, and gave me new ones. By now, know that it was at least quarter after eleven. When I had finished filling out the forms, it was 11:40. I had been told that the consulate closed at 12:30 by the embassy, which evidently wasn't the case when I returned to the window and another unsympathetic Russian woman of a certain age (and girth) informed me that the consulate actually closed at 11:30. I am firmly convinced that diplomats do absolutely nothing. This is when the tears first started. I knew that morning was the only time that I could go to Rome, and I needed that visa now. Luckily, they took pity on me (but not until after a fresh batch of tears during the payment process) and the moral/happ ending of this story is that I have a Russian visa. Or I will next Friday when I go back to Rome (durrr...) to retrieve it. But now I know where to go, the correct address of that location, and I'm hopefully hitching a ride back with one of the SUF classes that has a day trip to Rome that day.
Next time (because the library is closing soon and I have to go home for dinner), the rest of my afternoon in Rome, evening/morning in Bologna, and visit to Lucca.
New photos are up, from my third week in Florence ! They are mostly pix from the weekend trips and regretfully, no pictures of Nextech.
Revelation #1: I don't look good in vests. Not sweatervests, nor that particular brand of Serena van der Woodsen organ grinder's monkey vests, either. They make me look like fat, frumpy, fifties' Frida.
Revelation #2: I would like a song called "Creeper." It's from the new Unicorns album, Arm's Way, which I've finally started listening to even though it came out early this summer. But it is a really good song. Actually, the album is altogether excellent; highly suggested!
And not a revelation, but a fun fact from this weekend was that while I was walking on the via Matteoti on Sunday, on the way to La Luna Rossa, an Italian woman stopped me for directions (!) And I knew exactly how to get to where she wanted to go (the piazza Liberta) (!!) But of course I had no idea how to say 'hang a left right here and keep walking until you hit the big gaudy arch. You can't miss it' (!!!!!!!!!!) I actually think that is a far worse feeling than altogether having no idea where anything is. It's been really frustrating lately with the whole language issue, mostly because of my unrealistic expectations. Like, I am fully cognizant of the reality that I'm not going to turn around and be fluent in Italian, but I still kind of want to be, at the same time. I was really happy that I could potentially instruct her, and really upset that it was the simple question of the language that prevented from being helpful. I think my wild gesticulations were truly cross-cultural. Whatever.
Saturday night, walking home, I stopped at Vivoli to sample the gelato there. For those of you who haven't heard of it, Vivoli is supposedly the most famous gelateria in the world, but in recent years, popular opinion has held that it's been trading mostly on reputation. I of course, had to verify this for myself. I got two flavors that night for euro 2.50, which is a little more, but not much more expensive, than at a standard place. The flavors were 'arranciato e ciocciolato' (chocolate-orange) and 'riso' (rice). It was good. Very good. Perhaps not as good as Grom (my gold standard so far) but very, very good. Also, as someone who is somewhat of a devotee/connoiseur of rice pudding, let me tell you, Italy is paradise. Beside the paste called budino di riso, almost every gelateria has riso as a flavor, and I of course, get it nearly every time. Recall the Stuff White People Like entry on Study Abroad: "You acquired a taste for something (local food, beer, fruit). This latter point is important because you will need to be able to tell everyone how it is unavailable in your current country." This is totally going to be me about riso gelato upon my return. I am apologizing now.Sunday, Sunday, shameless Shun-Day... What to say, what to say. Well, as most lazy Sunday mornings go, I didn't manage to get out of the house until noon, and then the café I was supposed to hole up in for the day ended up being closed, so I'm at another place near Santa Croce called "La Luna Rossa" (The Red Moon), surrounded by a wide range of Italian men watching the Fiorentina-Bologna football game. After nearly four hours (good lord) updating this blog, I have to go do real work now. Sweet.
Refreshed after a very good night's sleep, I was more than ready to tackle Ravenna on Saturday. Ravenna was the capital of the western parts of the Eastern Roman empire (I know, confusing) after the sack of Rome and again after the fall of the western portions of the Roman Empire in 476 C.E.. It's weird and I don't remember the exact history so I won't go around spreading false facts. Anyways, the important things about Ravenna and its port city, Classe, are that as the beacon of light during the so-called 'Dark Ages' post the fall of Rome, they are wondefully well-preserved examples of Byzantine mosaics from the time of Constantine and beyond. The church of Sant'Apollinaire in Classe has the Mystic Meadow mosaic while the Basilica of San Vitale has the really, really, really famous mosaics of emperor Justinian and empress Theodora. Basically, it was everything I studied and was obsessed with in Humanities.
Here are some (poorly photographed) examples of the mosaics at Sant'Apollinaire, San Vitale, the Mausoleum of Galla Placidia, the Neonian Baptistery, and Sant'Apollinaire Nuovo:
Sant'Apollinaire in Classe:
The courtyard of San Vitale:
Mosaic of Emperor Justinian at San Vitale:
St. Lawrence rushing to his own martyrdom (...) at the Mausoleum of Galla Placidia:
Baptism of Christ at the Neonian Baptistery:
The Three Wise Men at Sant'Apollinaire Nuovo:
Dante's Tomb:
In Ravenna, we had the best tour guide/grad student lecturer ever. For starters, his name is Rocky. Yes, Rocky. He was the cutest, too. As I said to my friend Francesca, I simply want to marry Rocky and iron his impeccable linen blazers for him. Also, our bus had several of the Syracuse grad students on it, and being the creeper that I am, I sort of kind of eavesdropped on their conversation. This otherwise super creepy act ultimately made me feel a lot better about myself and my future because they only talked about procrastinating on their symposium and other research, the ethical implications of using Wikipedia, and the difficulties in accessing JSTOR off-campus. They are just like me, and I can be just like them one day!!!!! This is such good news.
Much like Rachel in Ravenna, I ate magnificently yesterday, but only one course. My friend Katie and I got lunch at this little cantina that was attached to a much-more expensive ristorante proper. There, she had raviolini with gorgonzola and I ate tagliatelle with ricotta salata, tomatoes, and broccoli. I really should start taking pictures of what I eat like an obnoxious food blogger, because I want a record of all these delicious meals!
Getting back from Ravenna was the smoothest of all the site visits thus far. I should mention (if I haven't already?) that Syracuse University in Florence has no David Leach-esque character to reinforce the notion of "To be late is unforgivable." Thus, we never leave anywhere on time (but otherwise I in no way miss such priceless little epigrams, I promise). Miraculously though, the buses left only five minutes later than they were supposed to from Ravenna, and we were back at the school by six. Katie and I, not knowing what to do with ourselves for the rest of the night, decided the obvious next step was to go grocery shopping. We also obviously didn't realize how hungry we were, because we left Esselunga with finocchiano (fennel salami), meringues, salt and vinegar Kettle chips, a bar of dark chocolate, a package of hazelnut wafers, and a tin of cocktail nuts. But we spent less than ten euro on the whole lot...? A feast in the Piazza Savonarola followed, with a welcome interlude by some friends from the Syracuse program, and then a late-night walk to Sant'Ambroglio, after which I began the long trek home to bed.
From these incredibly long posts:
I am currently obsessed with Dent May:
Dent May & His Magnificent Ukulele
Friday morning was a little bit brutal. I had slept for the grand total of an hour and a half in that half-dawn between Thursday and Friday before stumbling out of bed and to the school to leave for Assisi. The sky looked forbidding on my walk over, and it opened up properly once the buses left. Nevertheless, I was really looking forward to returning to Assisi. The last time I was there was during the Latin class trip, summer after junior year in high school, where we actually stayed the night in this cute little convent ho(s)tel and spent the day exploring the city.
Assisi is a very typical Tuscan town, which means that it's built directly into the hills that are actually the fringes of the Appennine mountains, which split the Italian peninsula in twain east-west. From the bus parking lot, our group took a series of escalators up to the first level of the city, near the church of Santa Chiara. All of Assisi is clad in this beautiful rose-tinged stone, remnants from ancient iron deposits in the area. Even in the rain, you could easily see the beauty of the architecture. But unfortunately, the breathtaking views from the piazza in front of Santa Chiara and later San Francesco were obscured but the fog. A small consolation was the beauty of the olive trees in the mist - you can really see the kind of venerable silver cast of the leaves and the silhouettes of thousands of trees planted on the hillside.
After taking a moment to appreciate Santa Chiara, our group continued walking up to the Cathedral of San Francesco, St. Francis himself. The building is huge and unique in its design: it's technically a double-decker basilica, along with a 'basement' crypt level that houses the tomb of St. Francis. The upper church is always open to pilgrims and tourists, and completely covered in beautiful frescoes of scenes from the life of St. Francis. Quick art history lesson: until very recently everyone (including myself!) thought that the main cycle of frescoes had been done by Giotto. Vasari said that was so, and the entire art community believed it for the next half-millenium. But recently art historians have examined the work of the frescoes there, and have decided that due to dating issues and comparing it with the confirmed work of Giotto in the Scrovegni Chapel, that the frescoes at Assisi are definitely not Giotto. They also definitely don't know who did paint them either, though. Quote our awesome docent-lady, "If you want to be famous in the art history world, which means you'll be poor but famous, figure out who frescoed the upper church at San Francesco."
Mass and churchy things all happen at the lower church, which is also covered in fresco. Unfortunately, due to some technical difficulties in my little touristy radio transmitter, I couldn't really hear any of what our docent was saying, which is all the more regrettable because I did find her very engaging. As we were filing out of the church, we could here a mass going, which was really quite excellent. I really like hearing the chants in unison of the hymns, sung by the parishioners. It's a very peaceful feeling.
Finally, we descended another level to the subterranean crypt of St. Francis. It... looked like a tomb. We weren't allowed to take any pictures inside the entire church, and I can't really describe the feeling inside the crypt/mausoleum thing besides uh, crowded? We did get to see the changing of the candles that burn directly in front of his tomb, though. An Asian (!) friar exchanged the half-burned tapers for fresh ones, taking care not to let any of the flames go out during the entire process. It was intriguing, but in that way of rituals you witness without necessarily understanding the true motivations behind.
I kind of regret not taking any pictures in Assisi, but it did rain all day, and I just felt like whatever pictures I took wouldn't do the beauty of the city justice. I was also kind of really upset that we didn't spend the entire day in Assisi, and instead after lunch, they herded us back on the bus for an excursion to Gubbio. Where's Gubbio, you ask. I don't rightly know either. It's another Umbrian hill town that we got hauled to, slightly against our wills? It is even more steeply built into the hills than Assisi, but is otherwise not much to write home about. Perhaps out of guilt for not taking pictures in Assisi, I took some of Gubbio, which will be up shortly. But yeah, Gubbio, not that impressive at all. Whatever.
After sleeping for the aforementioned hour and a half the previou night/morning, I did not do anything of note on Friday night besides eat four different types of whole grains/legumes for dinner that night. Actually, this is kind of an interesting story (yeah, that great): I have a feeling, much like Thursday aperitivi, that I will have a well-developed Friday tradition of buying 'sconto' (discounted) prepared salads and side dishes from the Esselunga (that's the Italian supermercato) on the way back from school on the Fridays after site visits. This Friday night's dinner of farina (barley) salad with roasted vegetables (grain #1) and cannellini beans all'uccellino (with tomato sauce) (legume #1) was augmented by warmed-over, leftover coucous dressed in tomato sauce (grain #2) and lentil soup (legume #2). Oh yeah, I am so living the life. Then I did the dishes and fell asleep without brushing my teeth. I still had another site visit to Ravenna the next day.
After school and aperitivi, I went to the Nextech festival with my friend Pete. I invited a lot more people, but since many of them were either tired from the week or preparing to go to Assisi the next morning, it ended up just being the two of us. Firstly, the journey to the festival itself, which I suppose was a mini-saga in itself. A quick geography lesson: my host mom's apartment is on the via Dei Bruni, due north of the Centro and about a 35-40 minute walk to the piazza del Duomo. The Nextech festival was at the ex-Stazione Leopolda, southwest of the city center, a good hour's walk from my house. Therefore, I took a bus to a stop vicino to the venue, but one wrong turn at the Porta al Prato meant that I walked fifteen minutes' in the wrong direction, with a bottle of Chianti in one hand and a map in the other. But after that little detour, and a correct left turn back at the Porta al Prato, I found the coolest venue, ever. I stupidly didn't bring my camera, but you'll just have to trust me that it was the best thing, ever. One thing that I actually really appreciated about the entire operation was that the promoters or designers or whatever really knew how to light the entire space in a way that was atmospheric without being garish or too over-the-top.
Stazione Leopolda used to be a train station, probably before they built Santa Maria Novella, but now it's a reclaimed space, maybe a bit like the courtyard of P.S. 1, but really not like anywhere I've ever been before. The station is set back a bit from the street, and behind these big, Deco-ish wrought-iron gates is a big open courtyard with weird modern sculptures and lots of benches set around the perimeter. Inside, the floor plan is actually kind of similar to a Roman basilica, now that I think about it. There are two enormous central rooms where they had projection screens (one) and DJs spinning (the other). The video projections included a very, very cool series on eyes and a kind of incongruous addition of the Gnarls Barkley video for 'Crazy.' The 'side aisles' of the space were probably the waiting areas of the old station, where they had smaller screens and benches for the revelers who were tired of dancing.
I hadn't heard of any of the DJs or the band that played that night, but all of them impressed me greatly. They were all from various locales in Europe; the live band, Poni Hoax, was French and I think the DJs were from Germany. Chicks on Speed were supposed to play on Friday night, but at the ticket counter on Thursday, I saw that they had already scratched. Oops. Anyways, for thirteen euro, I had a GREAT night of... a trashy, wonderful indie hipster dance party. It felt like I was home, which was a singularly wonderful feeling. And while we were sitting on the kerb before entering, finishing the bottle of wine, I have to say that the people-watching was incomparable. And by incomparable, I mean that it felt like I was in Brooklyn again?
My night was good enough for me not to get home until five, ante-meridien. This was perhaps a poor choice considering the fact that both of us had to be on the bus for Assisi at seven thirty. The walk home took a while, obviously, but it was surprising how many people were still out on the streets at that hour. Don't worry, Mom, Pete and I walked back together, and the streets of Florence are absurdly well-lit at night. We ran into two independent sets of other Syracuse kids out on the way back, too. I stumbled into bed a bit past five, knowing that I had just experienced something unique to my stay in Florence, though I hope that some other ridiculous event happens at Stazione Leopolda so I can go back. And that was Thursday.
I got it! I am now an intern for The Florentine, Florence's bi-weekly expat newspaper. The internship is through Syracuse, and my first story is going to be about the locations that Spike Lee used when shooting Miracle at St. Anna, which is set in a little Tuscan village. I'm hopefully doing internet research on Sunday and travelling around the actual places next weekend. Tomorrow and Saturday I am going to two school trips, to Assisi on Friday and Ravenna (!) on Saturday. And, fingers extra extra crossed, I am emailing Scott Schuman to see if I can interview him, because Florence is so frequently featured on the Sartorialist.Starting tonight, the Nextech Festival starts in Florence. It's festival of "musica elettronica e ambiente visivo" so basically DJ sets, live electronica and lots and lots of projection screens. And even though we are leaving for Assisi at 7:30 in the morning tomorrow, I am still going to this show tonight. I will sleep on the bus. Plus live music of any sort is so very few and far between in Florence, that I should take advantage of it whenever the opportunity presents itself, right?And Chicks on Speed are playing tomorrow, so I might go to all three nights? I'll have a full report after the weekend.
Only not really at all. But my mother did send me an email today, asking why I wasn't writing more about the day-to-day aspects of living in Florence. I think my problem is that I have a hard time believing that my daily activities are interesting for other people to read. But... apparently they are? Anyways, today was the first day that I went to one of the little bars around school for lunch instead of grabbing a sandwich on campus. I should note that bar in Italy denotes a casual place for snacks throughout the day, and not necessarily a place only for drinks. Bars in Italy sell panini and sometimes primi piatti (first courses, usually pastas or soups) during the lunch hour, and snacks, bus tickets, and pastries along with drinks and other sundry needs. Anyways, this particular bar I went to was called Masaccio, and it's located on the via Masaccio, less than a five minute walk from the Syracuse campus. They have a selection of about twenty sandwiches, and after having one with melanzane e gorgonzola (eggplant and gorgonzola cheese), my new plan is to eat through the entire menu, and then start creating my own sandwiches, which you can do as well. The sandwiches cost less than three euro, and are more than filling washed down with a bottle of water from the fountain in the courtyard of the Villa Rossa.
My host mom, Patrizia, is also a wonderful cook. Last night, she made pasta with an eggplant-and-tomato sauce, followed by this delicious egg, mozzarella, and bread omelet cum casserole. My roommate Kristin took three helpings and I ate nearly as much, it was that good. I love the concept of the Italian meal in that in its multiple courses, affords you the opportunity to try (and eat) as much as possible in the pantheon of Italian cuisine. Also over the weekend, I had pane con lampredotto at the flea market in Santo Spirito. Lampredotti is the last stomach of cows, and in Florence pane con lampredotto is classic street food. The sandwich is made with lampredotti cooked in its broth, seasoned with salt and pepper and topped with parsley sauce and hot pepper. It is tasty, filling, and very cheap-- my three requirements for a good meal. The other kind of classic Florentine street food is trippa alla fiorentina, which is tripe simmered in tomato sauce and put on a sandwich. I saw a stand surrounded by people at lunchtime in the piazza Sant'Ambroglio, and I think I will go for lunch sometime this week.
This weekend is going to be hopefully excellent, with two day trips to Assisi and Ravenna. Assisi I've been to, but I am very much looking forward to going back to the church and monastery of St. Francis. In Ravenna is both the chapel at San Vitale and the church of Sant'Appolonnaire in Classe, home of some of the most beautiful Byzantine mosaics, including the mosaics of Justinian and Theodora in San Vitale. I'm so excited to finally see them in person.
no one here knows who david foster wallace is.
Apparently David Foster Wallace was found dead yesterday of an apparent suicide.
Here's the New York Times article.
Look at that efficiency! Pix from the second week in Florence.
Today in Italian class, we talked about our favorite colors. When it was my turn, I asked "Come se dici 'teal'?" and was rewarded with the blankest of looks from my Italian professor. I think this means this country isn't for me. Otherwise, today and the past weekend have been really good. I think I am switching out of one of my art history classes (Art of the Late Medieval and Black Death) and into a class on 16th century Italian architecture instead. Even though I'm real interested in the material of the Black Death class, I absolutely cannot stand the professor and her undying love for her own voice. Whatever. Over the weekend, I went flea-marketting, which was very rewarding. On Saturday, even though it rained intermittently all day, I went to the market at Piazza del Ciompi, where I found the most amazing antique accordion. I've been obsessing over it ever since, which is really bad because one, it costs 150 euros and two, how the fuck am I going to bring/ship home an accordion? I've been playing (and I know I've been playing) a psychological game with myself, asking everyone I know (and plenty of people whom I don't) to tell me that buying an antique accordion of dubious renown when I don't even play the accordion is a very bad idea whilst knowing the entire time that I will (possibly) eventually cave and buy the damn thing. It's a vintage accordion! I think it's made of Bakelite! If I can bargain down to under one hundred euros...
Sunday might have been even better because Katie Wingate, a Wellesley girl on the program, and I went to the monthly flea market at Santo Spirito, across the Arno. There, I did cave in and spent 90 euros (my first big purchase, not including books) on a vintage Fendi purse. Even if it's fake (which I really don't think it is) it's a beautiful piece of leatherwork. I also obsessed over it the rest of Sunday, which we decided meant that no matter what, it was a good purchase. I also bought beautiful clip-on daisy earrings (which match my daisy-chain necklace) and a brown velvet sheath dress that will take me through the entire fall here.
Luckily for me, certain cultural institutions transcend all national borders. I am talking of course, about Chinese takeout, which was Kristin and mine's dinner on Friday night due to a miscommunication between us and our host mom. I never thought I would ever have a conversation in English, Mandarin, and pidgin Italian, but I can certainly cross that little item off my list now. Grease, sugar, and pure MSG never tastes as good as after a day of hiking, climbing, and avoiding marble dust. I am talking of course about the site visit to Carrara and Pietrasanta on Friday, which wasn't so much a rock pit as a marble mountain, and a quarry inside the mountain. We... got to wear hard hats? We learned from our droll, British (was that redundant? Perhaps) tour guide, who was also an artist in residence at Pietrasanta, that colored marbles get their pigments from various natural sources, and therefore the pink marble such as the kind used on the facade of the Duomo in Florence gets its color from the shells of fossilized shrimp. It may be a stretch to say, but I'm saying anyways that the Duomo is clad in shellfish. Definitely not kosher, literally! I crack myself (and only myself) up.
First photo update is finally up on Flickr !
Is my new favorite piazza (it used to be Piazza San Marco, but then I realized that the bus stops really did distract from the ambiance). Yesterday was an interesting day because of my coffee-drinking habits. My body reacts weirdly to caffeine when I don't eat enough at the same time, and yesterday an extra macchiato between classes meant that I was feeling horrible by mid-day. I went home to take a nap, which ended up lasting four hours. Oops. It was five by the time I got my very-hungry self back out to the city. I ended up going to this little vegetarian cafe called 'Caffelatte' out in the San Marco area of the city, on the Via Degli Alfani. And even better, across the street from this cafe was a record store called Rock Bottom. It was wall-to-ceiling vinyl with rare titles and original pressings hanging on display, including a first-press edition of Chirping Crickets (from Buddy Holly & the Crickets) that was on sale for 1,100 euros. Hilariously, a first edition of Placebo's Placebo is worth 65 euros. But the store is awesome and I can't wait to go back.
Weekend plans, weekend plans... I have a class trip to Cararra and Pietrasanta tomorrow, which is mildly exciting, and where the buses leave at seven, which is not. I am also unsure about the weather tomorrow, in the big fucking rock pit under the potentially beating sun. Whatever. What I am most excited about this weekend are trips to several flea markets around the area. On Saturday, I am definitely going to the Sant'Ambroglio farmer's market and the flea market at Piazza Ciumpo near Santa Croce. Sunday is the monthly flea market at Santo Spirito in the Oltrarno, across the river from the main center of Florence, which is supposed to be really, really good and full of little antique treasures and things like that. While it is not necessarily buying from on-a-blanket-in-the-mud, I am sincerely excited for potential treasures. I need a coin purse at the very least, and possibly a new school bag.
OH MY GOD FINALLY. iTunes, the Internets, the Villa Rossa, and the Entire Fucking Universe finally conspire to work in my favor for thirty minutes. The final product? Both new episodes of Gossip Girl, downloaded onto my computer and into my life. OMG Jay McInerney. Tinsley fucking Mortimer (looked kind of like a zombie, if you ask me). This is going to be the best week, even if the bitches in my Ancient Art class could be the sixth and seventh children of Sarah Palin (wow, am I really that awful a person? Apparently. How long have I known that I am guaranteed a spot next to dear old Brutus in the afterlife? At least since the age of eleven.) and even if it's going to be 35 degrees on Friday when I have my first field study trip, to the marble quarries of Cararra, a.k.a. A BIG FUCKING ROCK PIT WITHOUT SHADE, I know that all is right in the world if Chuck Bass is part of my life. I miss New York summer. I miss cheap street food and getting lost everywhere. Inexplicably, I haven't gotten lost in Florence, yet. I miss shows that actually stop in this godforsaken city. Apparently, Florence is west bumfuck compared to Rome, Milan or even Bologna. Looking at fall concert schedules, people like M83, Duffy (shut up I think she's kind of cool) and Fleet Foxes are touring Italy, but only ever stopping in Rome or Milan. ALSO, Okkervil River is PLAYING IN BOLOGNA (a feasible distance away) but on the same weekend as a field study. The field study is a trip to Pisa scheduled for Saturday while Okkervil River is playing in Bologna on Friday night, which means that it is still kind of possible for me to go, but would necessitate some creative finagling of transportation, because the three cities are in a rough triangle with each other within Tuscany. More importantly, it means hoping & praying that the state-owned rail service doesn't strike that weekend, which it is apparently wont to do quite frequently. It's going to happen, though. It has to.
Tuesdays are my busy days, and even so I manage to have a three-hour break between my two classes in the morning and one in the afternoon. I am way looking forward to my upcoming class, which is a what is called a 'maxi-seminar' on Michelangelo, I suppose because the enrollment is capped at 25 instead of 15. The class and materials should be really interesting, though I am worried about the quality of people enrolled, somewhat. Does it make me a horrible person if whenever I overhear people discussing classes I am also enrolled in, I wonder "do I really want to deal with you in my class? Are you really going to say those things with a straight face?" Probably. C.f.: Sarah Palin references earlier. I am so, so going to hell. Speaking of hellfire and Southerners, this kid J.T., who is a architecture student at the University of Kentucky, has a voice and personality that is a dead ringer for Jack McBrayer/Kenneth the Page. I am actually kind of dreading the day I inevitably call him Kenneth by accident. Reason #254 why I am so glad no one from this program will (hopefully) ever find this blog. Otherwise, once again, oops.
Currently listening to: Jennifer O'Connor.
Just FYI, I wrote this all yesterday, and backing up what I've written below about flaky internet connections, I didn't get a chance to post it because the internet on my laptop died.
I don't know how much I am going to use the internet in the coming semester. A conflagaration of circumstance and laziness may render computer usage, including blog updates, photo updates and Facebook access in longer but infrequent stretches. What I am trying to say is that the only reliable source of wireless access is here at school, in the Villa Rossa complex, which necessitates either hauling my laptop back and forth from school everyday, along with textbooks and other sundry supplies, or using the computers (most of which date from circa 2004) in the basement of the Villa Rossa. Since so many students flood the wireless connection here anyways, it's hard to keep up a consistent stream of web access without copious "page load errors" and "the connection has timed out"s Combined with the uncooperativeness of Flickr, it's a rough life for me sometimes. But not really at all; did you think I was serious? I will beat the internet connection to death just like all 279 of my peers. Now if only the latest episode of Gossip Girl would load. Le sigh. You can't have everything...
This past weekend was termed "Full Immersion" with your host families, which, unfortunately, could mean anything. Some girls I knew literally did spend the entire weekend with their host families, more often than not in said host families' beach houses on the coast, escaping the oppressive heat of the basin that Florence is located within. Seriously, it's supposed to be 35 degrees all week. Anyways, not having the privilege of a seaside escape, my weekend was nevertheless highly enjoyable. I went out with my roommate Kristin, her boyfriend, and a smattering of their friends from the metro-Boston area on Friday night to a bar near Santa Croce, where some random dude (literally, just 'some dude,' all Lebowski connotations intended) ended up buying two rounds of drinks for the entire bar. I still don't really understand. Anyways, that happened, whatever.
Saturday, I slept in and then spent the day exploring the city center (henceforth known as the Centro Storico) first with a couple of friends, then later by myself. I took a bunch of photos, especially in the cathedral Santa Croce, home to Michelangelo's and Galileo's tombs and a monument to Dante. Once I figure out the intricacies of Flickr and possibly find a better/steadier internet connection, the photos will be up. Of course, I found about four excellent, foreign-language bookstores already. There is the Paperback Exchange, located in this little alley off the Piazza del Duomo, where I bought my textbooks and also has a fairly well-curated selection of new and used books, and as the European additions, have different designs than their American counterparts. Tangentially, I love finding different, nation-specific editions of books. Design-wise, one of my favorite books is the copy of Special Topics in Calamity Physics that I bought in South Africa. And dangerously, the Paperback Exchange has a frequent-buyer card that rewards you for every 10 euros you spend up to forty euro, where your four stamps turn into twelve euros' worth of credit. Of course, my financially-irresponsible dilemma is whether to spend the money sooner on new books and get the discount before leave, or to tear through all the books I brought with me before going on a buying spree; not to mention the lifetime of headaches that is packing all of them into my suitcases at the end of year. Other bookstores I found over the weekend include Libera Lef, full of ridiculous Taschen and Phaidon titles; Melbookstore, which looks to be the largest of the bunch clustered around the Centro Storico; and Liberi Martinelli, whose second floor has an adorable and comfortable reading lounge tucked away in the back. There is also a Grom gelateria kitty-corner from the Paperback Exchange, and an excellent wine bar, Coquinarius, where I had dinner on Saturday night, making the ten-meter stretch of the via del' Oche the most dangerous street in all of Florence, at least currently. My Moleskine Firenze notebook has gotten a lot of use in the past few days (hi Carly!).
I didn't end up doing much on Saturday night. Walked back to my host mother's apartment and stayed up reading Time Out Florence, plotting my next move. Sunday was another lazy morning. I walked my roommate out towards the Centro Storico later in the afternoon, since she has had a tendency to get lost on the way to and from the city center. I stopped at the piazza San Marco, currently my favorite piazza, and finished reading The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay there before walking back using a different route that took me through the piazza Independenza and by the Basso Fortress, which was less than what I'd hoped it to be. I'm trying out some different routes in these first few weeks to see which one I like the best, and to explore various parts of the city. I've taken in a fair amount of Florence so far, and forty minutes' walk (the time it takes, roughly, to walk from my homestay to the city center) has already become nothing. On Sunday, Kristin and I finally met Gabriele, our host mom's son and our host-little brother. He's ten and very mischievous yet sweet. The four of us had dinner together on Sunday night before going out to celebrate the festival of [LOOK THIS UP ON WIKIPEDIA] out in the streets near the piazza le Cure, the closest big piazza (square) to Patrizia's apartment. I'm not clear on the specifics of the current celebration, but I do know that the tradition holds for children to stay out late and run around, shooting little clay balls out of blowgun tubes, kind of like spitballs but slightly less gross, at paper lanterns and unsuspecting pedestrians.
Yesterday was the first day of classes. Kristin and I walked to school together, which included the slightly-interesting interlude of a first-hand encounter with Italian futility. Our host mom's apartment is located outside of the city center, and we have to cross a set of train tracks to get to school every morning, or at least we did with the route we took today. Either way, Kristin and I get to tracks, see a multitude of would-be pedestrians and drivers already milling about. We wait for about five minutes and see one train drive past, but the railroad gates don't go up. Another seven or so minutes later, no sign of either the train or the gates opening, we both hop the barrier and run across to the side, sick of waiting. Okay, maybe not that interesting but it's an anecdote that kind of illustrates what I've found to be the pattern of government futility that Italians tend to complain about. I've also seen several graffiti-ed icons of Berlusconi with devil's horns. Anyways, that little episode of derring-do also managed to make us late for school, which turned out not to matter much in the long run-- a lot of people walked into the gates after us. It turns out that I got into the section of Italian that I wanted to (at 8:45) and I had my two classes this morning, Italian and Art of the late Medieval and Black Death. I don’t know if I have mentioned this previously, including but not limited to the preceding paragraphs, of the female-to-male ratio of this program, which stands, charitably, at about 4:1. As luck would have it (jury’s out on whether good or bad) both of my Monday-morning classes contained men ! The overwhelming knowledge that they are already fully occupied with their burgeoning harems remains the only reason that I feel comfortable writing about them in a public forum. So, cute architecture boy from my Italian class, and hipster-with-potential from my Black Death class, I hope you never find my blog.
Oh my god I think I'm in Italy, mentally. It took a week, but it happened. Starting on Wednesday, we had three days' worth of Orientation in the Villa Rossa, the big Syracuse University in Florence compound. It's located in a piazza, the Piazza Savonarola, located slightly northwest of the city center. What's kind of really amusing is that today, coming back from buying a planner at Florence Copy (there's a whole 'nother story) I noticed that the Villa Rossa is directly across the street from the Chinese consulate in Florence. I am totally going over there on Monday and saying hello. Well, maybe not, but I am giving the idea some serious thought. Speaking of Savonarola, the piazza is awfully tranquil for such a fiery fella. I like the fact that the school is out of the hustle and bustle of the city center, away from the crowds. Funnily enough, the hotel that we stayed in during orientation was the same hotel that I stayed in the last time I was in Florence, with the Latin trip. Sadly, I did not remember this until the second morning, when I recognized the subterrenean taverna that the hotel relegated the group travellers to during mealtimes.The planner: I finally bought the right planner, after two false starts. The first Moleskine planner I bought ended up being a monthly planner; and the second started in calendar year 2009. Now, finally equipped with a 18-month Moleskine Weekly Planner 2008-2009, I can start the vicious cycle of color-coding and labelling that has gotten me a fair share of loveable mocking already. No matter how frustrating the multiple purchases were, I really appreciate the fact that the third planner I purchased came at the third time I went to Florence Copy, the store having been in siesta the first time I went and closed the second. The symmetry really pleases me.I met my host mom and roommate yesterday afternoon. My host mom's name is Patrizia Frigau, she is a 45-year old single mother with a 10-year old son named Gabriele. My roommate, Kristin, and myself don't get to meet Gabriele until Sunday, though, because he is spending time with his father this week. Kristin, my roommate, is from Sudbury (MA) and is an economics major at Trinity College in Hartford. She seems like a really nice girl. Our room in Patrizia's apartment is really quite awesome, even if the location isn't, necessarily. She lives even further north of the city center than the school, and it's about a forty-minute walk to the Piazza del Duomo, Piazza Signoria, etc. It will be hard to get home after the buses stop running at night, I think. BUT the room we share is really great. She lives on the top floor of a five-story apartment, and the two of us have the second floor of her own apartment, in a big attic/loft space, with our own bathroom and everything. There are two futons and just a ton of space. Patrizia is a math teacher and psychologist and an excellent cook. I am really excited to live with her for the next four months! I think meeting her and unpacking all of my stuff was really pivotal in making me feel like I'm staying here. I'm going to be walking around the city and taking the same meals and (hopefully!) speaking the language for the rest of the year. It's both daunting and the most exciting thing that I've ever experienced. Much like New York this summer, I hope I can feel just a little bit like a local at the end of this experience. Doing so in New York was easier than I thought, but I have a feeling achieving the same level of comfort in Florence is going to be harder than I can imagine now.I also registered for classes this morning. My last name was in the second-to-last registration block, so I feel really lucky to have gotten into all the classes that I wanted to. I'm taking four classes, three art history and one introductory Italian course. The art history classes are: Ancient Art: The Etruscans & Romans; Art of the Late Medieval Period & Black Death; and a seminar on Michelangelo. Additionally, each class comes with required field studies, which means that I am "required" to go on trips to Siena, Carrara, Assisi, Arezzo, and Ravenna, "required" to have a private tour of the Sistine Chapel and "required" to go on a three-day journey to Naples, Pompeii, and Herculaneum. Coming into this program, I expected everyone to be Art History majors, which turns out isn't the case at all. The people I've met have been English and Economics and Sociology and Chemistry and Psychology and everything-else majors; I've actually met the fewest fellow Art History majors.This afternoon I have a meeting where I turn in my permesso di soggirno (permit to stay) forms and then I think I'm going to a used-book store called the Paperback Exchange to look into buying books for my classes. Also earlier this week, I re-found my favorite store from the last time I was in Italy, this tiny little mercantile that seemed to ply trade only in antique postcards, off the Piazza Signoria. Later, hopefully, I'll be going back into the city to experience the nightlife with some friends. I've made friends! They don't seem to hate me (though only time will tell) !!
(c) e.b. andersen 'too many capital letters' bartels. i am SAFE and SOUND and using a VERY unfamiliar keyboard in italy. it took me five minutes to find the apostrophe key. it's been that kind of day. italy is very, very hot (still in the low nineties) and... i don't have much more of an opinion of the country beyond that right now. talk to me in a week, perhaps?housekeeping things:my address in florence ami d. lic/o syracuse university in florencepiazza savonarola, 1550132 firenzeITALIAmy cell phone number (florence is 6 hours ahead of eastern standard time)+39 3493 39 1615my skype name (this is also free)ami.li10
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