I toured the Roman aqueduct, ate excellent pizza, pretended to be a Siren, wandered the water front, got lost. Next day I toured Herculaneum, napped in the botanical garden, and climbed Mt Vesuvius. Third day, I climbed the hill, got lost, toured some castles/palaces, and caught my train out.
No biggie? That’s ‘cus you don’t know what I managed to survive. I didn’t just get lost, I got lost on the outskirts of Mafialand at sundown. I didn’t just climb the top of Mt Vesuvius like most ppl, but rather started from sealevel and ended at the crater. I didn’t just eat pizza, I ate pizza with super spicy sausage. And I lived to tell of all this. No small victory, in my eyes.
Riding home the sun burnt like a fire-ball over the Arno, seeming to spread crimson over the world. The only cloud on the horizon turned florescent by the light, and chipper birds flying over head. The city seemed calm and peaceful, no tourists clogging the streets stopping traffic, no people rushing home from work. It seemed a perfect evening.
Then, on closer inspection, I realized that the “cloud” on the horizon was really smog; that the river reflected so well because it was stagnant and polluted; that the birds were swooping to catch mosquitoes; that the streets were empty because the economic crisis has kept tourists away; and that all the locals were indoors watching the soccer game.
Well, so much for that pleasant illusion, it was nice while it lasted…
In case you didn’t know, Europe has a smoking problem. It’s so extreme that the stratosphere is clouded with ash. Oh wait… that’s from the volcanic eruption. The crazy volcano in Iceland has been erupting for too long low, and the wind has been blowing it in the wrong direction, so air In case you didn’t know, Europe has a smoking problem. It’s so extreme that the stratosphere is clouded with ash. Oh wait… that’s from the volcanic eruption. The crazy volcano in Iceland has been erupting for too long low, and the wind has been blowing it in the wrong direction, so air traffic in all of Europe is pretty much shut down. The semester ends toworrow, and most people were planning to leave in the next few days. Well, ha ha, not gonna happen. Thank goodness I was not planning to leave. I have a wonderful host family where I can live and eat and a job to earn money, so I am set; even if the eruption does disrupt air travel for the next 6 months. So don’t worry about me, just about all of the other Americans that want to go home… or even just get back from Romania for finals… Life is good. And don’t smoke, it’s bad for you.
Finals are next week, then everyone I have gotten to know in the past four months is leaving. I move in a week, I started work today, and even though a new semester starts in a few weeks, it will not be the same.
But it will be fun.
After my traumatizing day, I had a great couple of days. Deep conversations with Italians about education, raising kids, the history and geography of Florida, the veracity of the Guadalupe tilma, and the definition of faith; as well as touching moments with children, including a picture one made for me:
Kids are adorable… Good thing I like them, ‘cus I am going to be surrounded by them for the rest of the year.
I just had a traumatizing experience: I took on Florence alone. Not just going places, I’ve done that a lot before. I mean actually trying to accomplish things, things I had never done before. Of course I chose a Saturday, at almost 6pm. This meant that at least I didn’t have to wait in line for anything, but it also meant that what I was trying to do was impossible.
I ask “Biglietteria?” He says yes, go through security. No one else around. Security lady tells me I can’t bring in water, I try to explain that I don’t really want to go in. Talk to Biglietteria-man, ask about Amici Degli Uffizi pass, he tells me “Chiusso.” Ok, so when are they open? “Di la”, beckons with hand. I try and go around. “No!” other way. “Parla inglese?” Yes, yes, do you? “Go there and see when they are open.” Oh, ok. That should be easy. I go to the other window, start to read the signs. “No, no, over there.” Finally I see it, a banner with Amici degli Uffizi on it, next to an open doorway. As I procede towards it, another sign appears and I begin to read that. Then out of nowhere a woman appears. My poor, already frazzled brain is ready to die, and now this. “E chiusso!” I know, already, leave me alone! “Chiude alle 5. Five.” (Holds up fingers in my face.) Ok. (I have no idea what time it is.) E domani? “No, martedi.” Ok. So my trip here was in vain, utterly worthless, because I still don’t know which museums it’s good for, or even the hours of the place. Well, I’ll just go to the library. But wait, I’m still inside the building, and no exit in sight. The woman simply removes a rope and exits. I but on my bambi eyes (a temporary replacement for my deer-in-the-headlights look) and gesture that I want to leave that way too. Finally, freedom. “Your lucky that I was here.” You know it lady, without you I don’t know what I would have done, freak out maybe, or just run through security. Whatever.
So I made it outside, my trip inside having been entirely futile. Before I can leave the terrace and dissolve into the anonymity of Piazza Signoria, I am accosted by hoards of vendors. Not Italians, but even shorter, darker, and more insistent with their ploys to draw one into conversation. It is too long of a walk, I want to run, disappear into the crowds of tourists. Though a barrage of heavily accented Italian, which I luckily don’t understand, I finally make it to safety. The first time I was thankful for tourists.
I chose the quietest allies to meander my way toward the library. At one point I am about to cross a main street, and then: a protest! Of all things… I guess I’ll take the long way. My poor nerves. The bags of Haribo looked so enticing, but sugar is not the answer to my problems. I avoid the posse of Carabinieri following the protest, wind my way up the stairs. I’ll get a library card later, I just need to sit down. Then, oh! So many people! But there, a table, a chair, upstairs, open-air, just for me. I sit down, relax, take a deep breath, *cough, cough.* It’s the smoking section.
There is nothing in the world like watching a sunrise. From the first rays of light that spread over the sky, until the entire landscape is glimmering with golden brilliance. From the simple chirping of birds that beacon, to the roar of motors awakened and bustling. From the top of my hill I felt there was a trance on the world, released only by the sight of the glorious sun above the mountains. Or was the trance on me; separated from the awakening metropolis by rows of trees and a layer of smog. Whatever it was, it was gorgeous and worth experiencing again, even if I do have to get up three hours early.
I’m sick of smarmy Italian guys. The guys that make catcalls, that try to lure one into conversation, that undress one with their eyes. I even long for the silent, distant Germans that are gentlemen, even though only by duty. At least they were gentlemen. But in every culture there are great people. People that don’t usually stand out, people that don’t match the stereotype, people that one wouldn’t meet under normal circumstances.
I miss meaningful, intense conversations with people from a totally different background. People that can take everything lightly and don’t get defensive. People that tease and banter, not bash and retort. Where are those people here?
I miss my job at Sankt Peter, but I especially miss my coworkers there. The environment of camaraderie, fun, and respect; the thrill of late nights to early mornings; the heart-to-heart chats ranging from philosophical to mundane; the smiling faces and cheery voices and Frau Falkenstein’s sleepy countenance.
I need to get out, meet some other Italians, learn the language, make some friends. It took effort to meet those great people in Germany, and it will take effort to meet others like them here or anywhere else I live. But good people are out there, and I am very excited to meet them. Someday I’ll miss them too.
Last weekend a group of us went to Lucca, a gorgeous city. Very clean, very peaceful, with a wall around it that you can walk on. Famous for olive oil and sweets. mmm.
Weekend before last we went to Siena, which is also gorgeous, but in a different way. It has rolling hills, with houses stacked on the slopes and a gentle haze over it all. That cathedral was so amazing. I just wanted to lay on the floor and admire the ceiling.
This weekend we go to Rome for two days. I am very excited! We are going to the Pantheon and the Vatican, among other things. I can’t wait…
So much has happened in so little time it feels like we have been here so much longer than just three weeks. Is that really all it has been?! Everything is still novel and exciting. Once that wears off and we have to buckle down to school, time will fly. Right now I am happy that the beauty still impresses me. Inevitably it becomes mundane after seeing it for weeks and months. Just keep reminding how amazing it really is to be here…
Classes are a drag sometimes, just because they keeps us from doing other things, but really, they are not that bad. Every class is pertinent to the world around me and actually it is great to be able to slowly understand my surroundings better. Italian history, art history, Italian language, and Italian cinema all expand my knowledge and comprehension of daily life in this country. I love it! The biggest drag is all of the reading, but even that is interesting once I start, then I hate to put it down! I hope the entire year of classes is this way. If it ever gets boring, I will not survive…
