A Farewell to Siena: The Last Hurrah

Where I am right now, and what I'm doing must remain a mystery for a moment. I have to back up and cover last weekend, and my last, saddest week in Siena... 

Sunday the program took us to the beach, near Grosseto (do you remember Grosseto? Where I spent a sleepless night waiting for a train), and it was lovely! Sand, sun, more sand. More sun. Woo. Only it was deceptively cool, with the wind, and I definitely burned my legs. Sadface. 

Maya and I tried to build a sand replica of the Palazzo Pubblico in Siena, which almost worked except for Torre del Mangia, which ruined everything. Ah well. I made up for it by kicking butt at beach football. And by "kicking butt" I mean not sucking the worst. I "tackled" (two-hand touch) Trevin twice (he claims he doesn't remember, but that's a lie) and Rory once. I did fumble the ball once, and passed to someone who was not open, but tackling! It was a lot of fun, and our team almost won. And my knees took a serious beating from all the running and slipping and sticks on the ground, but it was for a good cause. 

The beach had these weird little bugs though, that if you sat down, farther up the beach, out of the wind, climbed everywhere. They were sort of half flying half not bugs, and it was pretty gross when you were trying to eat your sandwich without getting sand in it. 

After fun-beach-sand-times, we went to this tiny town called Castiglione della Pescaia for gelato, which was great after a day at the beach. We also saw "Via dell'Amore" where the story goes that these lovers fell in love at the well at one end of the road. They wanted to stay in love, so they walked up the road backwards, to keep the well in sight, and if you want to be lucky in love, you should do that too. So I did! The well disappears almost immediately though... But either way, I'm officially 'lucky in love'. So clearly my Italian soulmate is going to appear at my doorstep any day now, having been bewitched by me in the train that one time. 

The last week was pretty durn sad though. It felt like I had to devour every glance, every breath of wind, everything and feel it completely, so as not to waste a moment! And I didn't really want to do anything except wander around in Siena and feel melancholy, which was not really and an option since I did actually have exams and stuff. And a paper. Which I wrote out by hand because my computer died, and I left my charger at school. So value your technology, kids! And you grown ups should hush. Yes, you had to write papers by hand, backwards while licking the roads clean, right? I thought so. It's all about what you're used to. 

Thursday, the last night, was the saddest. I started to tear up just waiting for the bus! What is wrong with me!? Everyone was really tired, so a bunch of people turned in early, and I was mostly just very sad. It was so hard to say goodbye to Siena, which I have loved, and has been so good to me. I will come back, but I don't know when. And it was hard to say goodbye to the non-Lewis&Clarkers who I may never see again. People claim they'll visit, but it's hard to do, and they can't be blamed. And I was struggling to express to my Nonna how grateful I was for everything she'd done, and how special she is to me, because of the whole language thing. I think I did okay, though. I plan to send her a picture of us and some letters. I will miss her! And her cooking and her doing my laundry and folding it and her cleanliness. She is the cleanest. She even airs out her shoes every day. What. 

Friday was anticlimactic, in some senses. I waited around in the house for hours with nothing to do, because I had packed already (you'd be proud to see how well I stuffed everything in there). And then the bus to Rome was super late. Because Fiona, Marli, Kate, and I were the only ones flying out as soon as the program ended, we were bussed to Rome, then had to catch a train to the Rome airport, then a shuttle to the hotel. So it was a long day, especially with all our bags. The hotel was very nice though... 

Since Fiona, Marli, and I flew out at 6.15 am, I stayed up until about 1, woke up at 3.30 to be at the airport by 4. So that was gross. And then there was a surprise fee. Which was my own fault - someone told me I could check two bags on my Lufthansa flight to Seattle via Frankfurt, which wasn't actually true, so I had to pay €50 to check the second bag, which is too big to be carry-on. And the plan from the beginning was to have a second bag to fill with souvenirs and stuff from Italy. I don't think I would have minded so much, except that I didn't know beforehand. I just like having time to digest having to pay money. Oh, and did I mention that my flight from Seattle to Portland doesn't let you check any bags for free? Yeah. Don't fly Alaska. 

On the plus side, not only did I have two whole seats to myself for the 10 hour flight (hooray for sleeping for 6ish hours, and in a horizontal-ish position!), but customs was relatively painless. So hooray for that! Now I'll let you know where I am - sitting in the Seattle airport, on their free wifi, waiting another hour and a half before I board my flight to Portland. I gave myself way more time than I needed here, but it means I get to write you a blog post! 

I've come full circle... from writing a blog in the Seattle airport on my way to Italy, terrified and excited! Now I've done it, and my prediction that it would go too fast has come true. It's hard to feel that when you're in it, but it's the most true - it feels like yesterday and also an eternity ago. I'm still processing coming back, so you don't get any conclusions yet. But it's weird hearing English spoken, being able to eavesdrop, and trying to get back into remembering that 99% of people can understand us when we talk. 

Anyway. That's about all I can manage for now. I'm still kinda shell shocked... it's 10pm Rome time, and I left the hotel at 3.30am. I did actually sleep a bunch, so it's not tired as much as just... empty. I'm in Travel-Rachel mode, which means 'get stuff done, and think later'.

So close to home! And yet so far... 3 more hours until touch-down in Portland. 

Love and misses (and anticipation to see you all)!

<3

Hey Mr. Gondolier Man, Pull a Boat For Me...

In which I go to Venice and have an awesome time! 

This was my last free weekend on the program (sadface) so I decided to go to Venice... and also Padova which is 30 minutes from Venice by train and has the really gorgeous Scrovegni Chapel. I went with Trevin from the program and we met up with a friend of a friend from the States, who is studying in Seville for a year, Chris. Chris and I have been chatting back and forth a bunch since we're in the same time zone. 

Trevin and I left Thursday after class, around 3, and took a forever bus to Padova. Some other kids from the program were on our bus going to Bologna for a concert and then on to Venice, which took 3 hours. And then our bus stopped in Bologna for ages while the driver had numerous cigarettes. He told us we'd be late to Padova, which was partly fair because there was huge traffic on the way to Bologna, but then we waited for ages and we weren't even that late, compared to what our itinerary told us we would be. So confusing. We met Chris at the train station, just around the corner from where the bus let us off. 

Friday, we went to the Scrovegni Chapel to make an appointment for the next day. Because the Chapel was seriously damaged during WWII and when the tore down the palace next to it and when the arch/porch thing on the front collapsed, you have to sit in a room with an air purifier for 15 minutes before you can go in and they only let 25 people in at a time. So we had to make an appointment. For 9 am Saturday, but oh well. 

Then...

We then proceeded on to Venice! Which was hot, but not as hot as the last time I was there, where I had to shower twice a day because of the overwhelming humidity. I'm convinced we were there at the best time. Of course, it was still crawling with tourists (and the guy at the bag check at San Marco tried to talk to us in German), but not nearly as badly as it was last time. It took us ages to find San Marco, because Venice is a maze but we had a nice lunch on the way. San Marco is as awesome as I remember, except even more so because I'm older and know more about art and what not now. The mosaics on the roof are just as impressive as before, and the floor even more so. It's a complete hodge-podge of awesome patterns. Plus, we just happened to be there when someone was playing around on the organ. I have the best luck. 

... and now!

Afterwards, we went to the Accademia to see some art! We'd heard that the Vetruvian Man was there, and sometimes on display, but the ticket dude told us that we would never get to see it, because it's never on display. So either he was a jerky liar, or the internet was. But it was still interesting! Less interesting for me than going to Florence, because we'd talked about a lot of the art that we saw in Florence, but Trevin and I had fun picking out things we'd each talked about in our separate art classes from the paintings. This one has ancient Roman style clothing, the Madonna in that one looks iconic rather than realistic. 

Since all that took us the better part of the day, we headed back to Padova to relax and zen out a bit before dinner, because we were all pretty tired from walking all day - I'm still working on breaking in my nice sandals, so my feet were seriously contemplating popping out some big blisters, but I managed talked them out of it. Mostly by wearing my shoes that are like foot hugs for the next two days... The boys were much more whiny about their poor feetsies than I was, let me tell you. 

Saturday we had to get up pretty early to get to the Chapel in time for our appointment, but it was totally worth it! The Chapel was built by Enrico Scrovegni to save his father from Hell for being a usurer (and also probably himself) and Giotto painted the whole thing in some ridiculously short period of time like a two or three years, and the Chapel is considered one of the masterpieces of Western art, according to Wikipedia. And it is really amazing. Giotto is one of the first to put serious emotion in his paintings - for example, he's got tears rolling down the cheeks of the mothers in Massacre of the Innocents. On the wall of the entrance, he painted a huge Last Judgement, where he puts Enrico and his dad among the saved. Apparently one of the dudes on the saved half is also Giotto, which seems a little arrogant to me, but I will forgive him because it is beautiful. And I've decided that when I grow up and have a house that I can paint, I'm totally painting my bedroom ceiling that deep deep blue with gold stars I see in a lot of churches here, and twice in ones Giotto has done. 

The whole trip was very well timed - in and out in 30 minutes, because you only get 15 to look at the chapel! We met a nice couple from California, UCBerkley where he does something with traffic flows and what not and had a good chat about travel and Europe and Italy specifically.

Murano! Island of Glass! (Okay I made that name up, but it is...)

We hopped a train to Venice and Trevin and I met a kind of irritating lady who was a professor of Cinema Studies in Istanbul. She was friendly enough, just not particularly charitable to all the kids on the train going to see Bologna play Venice. We got off in Venice about the time we got out of the hotel the day before, and then had to wait in line for ages (see my previous post about Italian inefficiency) to get a ticket for the vaporetto and then wait more ages for the actual boat to take us to Murano. 

A bit about Murano. A long time ago, there were glass artisans in Venice, but the Ventian Republic decided that burning down buildings accidentally was no good (because remember you have to get glass hot to make things out of it) so they banished everyone to this island called Murano. But then they realized they had something pretty freaking awesome, as the artisans got better, and forbid them to ever leave the Ventian Republic. Which they ignored, as people often do when you forbid them to do things that they want to do. But they were pretty rich, and Murano is still famous for it's glass. We did see this one guy make a horse out of glass (a kinda crappy horse, but still), where he pulled it like toffee, spinning it constantly so it didn't sag in one direction or the other, and just sort of creating legs and a tail out of thin air.

Trevin may or may not have been cheated out of some money though. He was buying a very specific souvenir for someone (a glass lion) and the guy spoke in English, so when Trevin clarified that the price was fifteen the guy said yes, but turned out he meant fifty. Which don't actually sound similar in Italian: quindici and cinquanta respectively. Despite the fact that I screw them up all the time in Italian, most people don't and I have no logical reason for why I do. But Trevin, the trooper, just sort of took it in stride. The dude cut down the price a bit since it turned out Trevin was confused, and Trevin pointed out that what he was looking for was pretty darn specific, and in truth, we didn't see very many glass lions anywhere else, and when we did they were much uglier. I may or may not have bought some souvenirs, you'll just have to wait and see.

We met up with a couple other girls from the program for a bit on Murano who were staying on a nearby island for the weekend, and that was a nice change. Don't get me wrong, I adore Trevin and Chris, but just 30 minutes with a bit more estrogen was really nice. Plus it meant an easing up on the Canadian jokes and the taking-advantage-of-Rachel's-trusting-nature jokes. They call me 'gullible', but I prefer 'trusting'. 
Chris had to leave fairly early that night, because his flight out of Milan on Sunday was at 10 am, and it would have taken too long to get from Padova to Milan in for him to leave Sunday morning, so we returned kinda early. We had a nice but not too pricey dinner at a restaurant where I'm sure they suspected us of trying to dine and dash. Chris had his duffel with him so he could go to the train station, and Trevin was dressed in his usual shorts and a Family Guy tshirt so that didn't help. But the waiter just hovered around the whole meal! That didn't stop me from having a delicious desert with strawberries and raspberries and custard cream and something like shortcake. And taking our sweet time in polishing off our bottle of wine.

There are too many pictures up there, so the Chapel goes here.

Sunday we had to check out fairly early, especially considering our train wasn't until almost 4 pm. So we sort of spent the day bumming around Padova. We saw the Duomo - really ugly on the outside, kinda nice on the inside but completely white, which is kinda strange - and got flipped off by an angry street vendor when we refused to buy his merchandise, and just kept saying "no" when he came up to us. We also spent a few hours lying in the sun near the Scrovegni Chapel. Italians don't really do parks that much, in my experience, so being able to lie in the grass of one of the only parks I've seen was super lovely. Excluding the strange eastern European couple grooming each other and making out behind us. I mention their origin only because they were not Italian - Italians would totally make out and clamor on top of each other in a public park, but not groom.

The trip back was fairly uneventful, except for us being in the wrong compartment of the nicest train we've seen. An Australian man was very rude to Trevin, who has a cold, regarding his sniffling, but a friendly Italian man told us we were in the wrong seats so I was saved from having to punch his face in. Mostly I just wanted to punch him because I was tired and travel is stressful, but also I've had such good experiences overall, it just really rubbed me the wrong way.

Can you guess what I'll say next? It was really awesome to come home to Siena! Surprise! But my Nonna told me she missed me, because when I'm gone she wanders around the house and la ragazza isn't there! It was so sweet! And she washed all my stuff. Like all of it. My mittens which I haven't worn in months, and my toque, and even my rain jacket which I've been terrified of even trying to wash so I won't tell you how long I've had it lest you be grossed out. I'm going to miss her terribly, she's so sweet.

At which point, I suppose I should say a few words about my impending departure, which is in twelve days technically, but more like eleven since I go to Rome on the 22nd before flying out at the crack of dawn (no seriously, 4 am at the airport for a 6.15 flight) on the 23rd. Today was our last meeting with our program leader, Karen, which was extraordinarily sad for me, and really sort of brought home the fact that I will not be here in two weeks. It's weird because I feel like it has been absolutely no time at all and an eternity. I remember standing in the airport saying, "It's only 3 months, it's approximately 100 days... It will fly by..." and not believing a word of it. I remember the drive from Rome to Siena, feeling completely empty because I had no idea what I was getting into and was too tired to feel anything at all. I remember Valle d'Aosta and Assisi and Florence and it feels like someone else did it and also like I just got back. Weird, I know. 

So here I am, waiting to come back. People have been asking me why I'm not staying, taking advantage of being in Europe. The answer is I'm burned out. I'm tired, and I want to go home and relax and be with people who I know really well. It's not that I don't love travel or that I haven't come to love the people on this trip/in this program, because I do and I have. It's just that I am a person who is very slow to trust, and the next time I travel (and I will do it again), I'm going well prepared and with close friends. Hopefully. And I've actually had people tell me that they are slightly envious I'm going home now... I mean, I'm equally envious they're staying longer! But I think we're all a little homesick. 

Blah blah growing as a person blah blah. I know it, you might know it too. Let's just hope it sticks around. 

Love and misses. 

<3 

All Roads Lead to Rome and All Wines to Alcoholism

Attention: This blog is completely unrelated to alcoholism! It just made for a good title. It's called 'poetic licence' or something. I'll apologize if you were looking forward to that, and remind you I'm more mature than that if you were worried. I am nothing if not magnanimous. 
--
What a weekend/week! Jet-setting all over Italy... and by 'jet-setting' I mean 'bus-setting'. I had an awful lot of sun and my shoulders were definitely feeling it, although I think I've lost most of the tomato-ey colour by now. 
Friday we had another cooking lesson, where I learned to make more pasta, tiramisu, and ragu. If you're really nice to me, maybe I'll make some for you sometime. I thought I'd burned on Friday sitting out in the Campo, but it turns out I just gave myself a strange tan line on my shins from where I'd rolled up my pants. It was Simon's birthday that day too, so a few of us went out for some vino that night, which was really nice.

Unfortunately, however, on Saturday I had to wake up at 5.30 am to catch the 6.15 bus downtown in order to go to Rome for Art History. Which in and of itself wasn't bad, just the getting up early. It wasn't even technically for my Art History class - it was for the other LC class, Roman and Etruscan Art - but all the LClarkies went. I was actually quite glad it wasn't my class, because it meant I didn't have to worry about taking notes and remembering everything really well, I could just enjoy the walk and the view and the information.

We saw the Ara Pacis, an alter for peace built by Augustus to make himself look awesome and celebrate a bunch of victories. It has portraits of famous people of the time around the top and some really gorgeous detailing like a tiny little scorpion on one of the leaves.

Afterwards we went to the Colosseum and then the forum and Palatine Hill where we saw Augustine's house and some fantastic frescoes with amazing detail. It's a pretty cool palace complex, and we got to poke our faces at the windows into his wife's palace, and man was it cool. Dude knew how to take care of a lady (hint hint).

We also wandered around the forum and talked more about that. The temple of the Vestal Virgins was there, and some fighting monks who lived across the street from them. Plus, you know that saying, "All roads lead to Rome"? Well, while that might not be strictly true, I saw the point where they measured all roads from! So that was really exciting! And then we did the Pantheon again, which I loved, as per usual. But I did get a bit too much sun, and my shoulders were definitely that night, so I decided to cover up a bit more the next day. Which was Sunday, and when we went wine tasting in Montepulciano, which is one of the wine villages near(ish) Siena.

The winery we went into is really frickin' old - something like 1000 years! The Contucci family runs it and has forever, as far as I know. And the winery is a hipster's dream. They have all their barrels built out of a combination of French, Italian, and Slovenian (?) wood, each custom shaped for the exact place they go in the storage area. Each barrel has to be replaced every 30 years, and each has a very specific spot. The wine type is called Vino Nobile and has to be made out of two or three kinds of grape and in the right proportions and also left to sit for at least two years. The Contucci can tell you exactly where their grapes come from (because they own the hills and have been growing grapes there forever) and even what side of the hill. Apparently, even if it's the same kind of grape, the side of the hill it comes from can make a huge difference in flavour because of things like sun and soil acidity and so forth. Like the other places we've been, these people claim their product is the best because they can guarantee where everything comes from, and therefore that it's the most natural.

Anyway, the tasting was very nice. We tried a white (not Nobile), a non-Nobile red, and a Nobile red. I like to imagine I could taste the difference, but I might just be talking out my butt. I have this feeling that good red wine leaves this gritty sort of feeling on my tongue, kind of tangy. But again, I might be making that up. I did buy some, because it was extraordinarily inexpensive. Oh and they totally have a bottle of wine from the 1800s. What.

We sort of meandered around in the sun for a while and had a snack (and I put some good karma out into the world) before heading on to Pienza, where Pope Pius II was born (before he became Pope). He was a famous humanist, and one day he decided to flatten his birth place and build the ideal Renaissance city. Which, according to Mike, was kind of a failure. The church is of particular note, because there are no religious markings on it, really, just the crest of the Piccolomini family, which was the Pope's family. 

I had a second (gasp!) gelato, and we took a walk along the wall and took in the amazing view. The weather was so good, and Mike and some of the other program dudes bought some cheese, so we wandered out to a bit of grass and sat and munched and lay in the sun. A few of us almost got left behind because we had the return-time to the bus wrong, but we made it okay. And, best of all, I didn't peel from my burn! Woo!

The rest of the week was much more relaxing than the weekend-which-almost-killed-me (because of the lack of sleep) but also much busier than any other week so far. It's Wednesday now, and I'm flying home in 17 days, which simultaneously feels like the longest time ever and no time at all. I cannot wrap my head around how long I've been here and that I'll be going home really soon. 17 days ago, I was just getting back from Spring Break, and the time between then and now has flown by. I know that I'll be home soon and missing Italy so much, but not only does it feel like forever, but I can't decide if I should be happy or sad, so I settle for some awkward, inarticulable combination of the two.

Tomorrow I'm going to Padova/Venice for the weekend with Trevin and my friend Chris who's coming all the way from Seville, which will be amazing! We're going to try to see the Vesuvian Man in Venice as well as St. Mark's, the Peggy Guggenheim, and Padova's Scrovegni Chapel (look it up, or forever fail at the interactive blogging). I'll let you know how it goes!

In other news, I have gained some weight! Operation Get-Fat is working! Although, it is mostly just the weight I lost last semester when I gave up eating wheat (and by 'gave up' I mean 'cut back heavily on'), but I am optimistic! My Nonna claims I'm un po' più grassa - or 'a little bit fatter' - around the face and the pants. So that's good, probably! I know a couple of you will probably be pleased. My butt will be, if any of it goes there. Fun (and little known) fact: if you are a twig, sitting on your butt in a hard plastic classroom chair for more than an hour becomes almost unbearable. No, seriously. Just one more reason it's better to have some shape.

Unfortunately, you're probably up for some navel-gazing in the near future so be warned! But I'll throw in a fun list of weird things about Italy or something... things I'll miss and things I won't or something like that (I might have stolen that idea from a friend).

Love and misses!

<3 

Too Much Trains and Siena Underground

Bad blogger syndrome ends here. Why? Because I have 23 days left in this country (ohdeargod) and I'm not gonna start slacking now! Just gonna barrel through... Perhaps I've been a bad blogger because I feel like I'm working through some stuff and I don't even know what to say about it. How do I express how strange it feels to be so close to the end? How do I articulate the weird happy feeling to be going home and the heart breaking sensation of leaving this city? I don't know. I feel like I'm supposed to have big revelations but I don't really... not yet anyway. 

But to the point! 
This past week I had two adventures - one into the Bottini, the ancient aqueducts under Siena, and one to Lucca, another Tuscan walled town about 2 hours away by normal-people transportation (aka, a car) and an eternity by Italian transit (aka, train... also I might be exaggerating just a teeny bit). We also went back to Florence with my Art History class - we saw a lot of the stuff I saw earlier, plus Michelangelo and Machiavelli's tombs. It was really cool, but not much to note there besides a lot of arty stuff. If you're interested, drop me a line, and I'll tell you about it.

First the Bottini. Which are super cool. We entered through the library - there's an entrance into the underground tunnels there. Our guide was a tall, thin man who fit right in with the dark, damp tunnels as though they were his home. I liked him.

We all had flashlights (some functioning better than others... some not functioning at all, really) and carefully followed him through the low tunnels running along side a shallow, narrow channel. When we first stopped to look, we could see the water was actually moving, although very slowly, and there was a strange whitish, fuzzy looking build up along the sides of the channel, which we were told is calcium. I don't know if I mentioned before that Siena has a lot of calcium in their water - and not the good kind that makes strong bones and teeth. I'm wondering if it's related to all the people with leg problems I see wandering around - or maybe it's just a clumsy country, and people are constantly getting accidentally broken. But either way, our guide told us that this water is no longer potable. Why? Because it doesn't move quickly enough and so cholera and tuberculosis (I think it was TB, but I don't really remember, so don't quote me on that... cholera and something terrible, anyway) grow in it. It got so bad they shut them down.

See, kinda fun, right? Pretend you like it.

Like in Pompeii, they managed to find a way to make money off of this. You could purchase a special well to give you your own water, at a certain rate. The more water you got, the more you paid. And there were neat little maps (and also super old - 1800s and shit!) on the wall by the well so you could see where in the city you were, since the Bottini are maze-like and freaky. Other neat things - mini, dripping stalagmites (the ones that go down, because the 'g' goes down), and weird wet hair things? Or maybe very very thin roots? Strange, either way. But I had a lot of fun playing with the aperture setting on my camera, trying to get cool pictures of the flashlight light, since camera flash ruins everything (often).

I accidentally stepped in an aqueduct, which made my shoe very wet. And also pants a bit. Which just made me want to get home faster - see, I thought the underground adventure would only be an hour but it was 1.5 hours, and I'd forgotten to tell my Nonna that morning, so I was pretty late for dinner. In my rush to get home, I (and 3 other girls) got on the wrong bus. It was the 5, which we don't usually take home, and the 5 in the wrong direction. We did get off, eventually, when we found out we were on the wrong one, but then we were something like 7 km out of Siena and had to wait for the next one.

A crazy drunk man came up to us and asked where we were from and if we liked "it". I said, "What? Siena or Italy?" He spat vehemently (shush adverb haters, it's a good one), "Non sono Italiano, sono Toscano!" or "I'm not Italian, I'm Tuscan!" Which was somewhat amusing, since that day we'd gone into centro with our Anthropology class to interview random people about Italian identity, and we talked to the mayor, some Italian boys, a professor and a different (but totally adorable) crazy old man, and they all played down the regionalism of Italy. But, at that point, I decided he was a little too up in my personal space for my liking, so I sneakily called Trevin to give me an excuse to back away.

I did eventually get home and changed and showered and fed, no worse for wear. As my Dad would say, "It was an adventure!" If I had a nickel for every time I've used that phrase here when Italy throws me a random curveball, I'd be significantly more wealthy. --This past weekend though, Trevin, Maya, Simon, Krissy, and I went to Lucca! It's another Tuscan city, and was actually a pretty kick-butt city-state for a long time. It's known for it's awesome walls now, which are still intact and can actually be walked. Bikes are super common there (the Portland of Tuscany! Only not...), and you can rent them and ride them along the top of the walls, which we did!

But first we got up at the crack of dawn to take an early train. Only we got off at the wrong Firenze stop, so we had to wait in Florence for two hours. Which wasn't so bad, but would have been more awesome if Santa Maria Novella was open, because there are some awesome arts in there, including Masaccio's very geometric Holy Trinity, Brunelleschi's famous wooden crucifix, and some Filippo Lippi stuff. But not a big deal.

I expected it to be warm in Lucca, but it wasn't really. I mean it was, but it was also cloudy. But we saw the Duomo, with some of the most "exciting" carvings on the outside - animals and so forth. We also saw a Filippino Lippi painting, the son of the above mentioned Lippi, who was a monk and loved Filippino's mom, who was a nun. They had little Lippi, and then big Lippi used them both as models for the Madonna and baby for a while. Scandalous!

We also wandered through the famous square that used to be a Roman amphitheatre and retains that round shape. It gave me the heeby-jeebies though. The buildings around the side are the tallest - in that you can't see any other buildings above them when you're inside - so I felt a lot like I was in a petri dish, or being stared at by a great Eye, lidless, wreathed in flame!

Awkward picture is awkward. Oh well.

Biking was an adventure - they all had bells to ring to get pedestrians out of your way, but mine was broken so I accidentally crashed into some dude, who was not happy or accepting of my sheepish, Mi dispiace! It might be true that you never forget how to ride a bike, but I'm convinced there's a learning curve when you get back on for the first time in a long time...

Simon was getting a little fancy, and the chain fell off his bike. Then it did it again, and despite using all the tools available (an umbrella, a pen, and a wine opener - and they were all tried) including Trevin, Simon, and Maya's combined abilities, it was toast, so we ended our giro early. But the delicious gelato we had made up for that.

I was pretty wet by the time we got on the train to go home - I was the least prepared for the rain, since I was the most convinced it would be beautiful weather in Lucca, but I dried out pretty quick. Another 2 hour transit ride back (only not really 'another' since the first one was closer to 4 hours, what with the 2 hour pausa in Florence) we were home! Ish! Maya, Krissy, and I actually walked home rather than wait the half hour for the next bus, and it only took just over half an hour. I had a super late dinner and passed out because I was the most exhausted.

But now you're mostly up to speed. Although I don't doubt you'll be lost again soon - I'm cooking Friday, going to Rome for an Art History class at the crack of dawn Saturday, and doing wine tasting Sunday. So that'll be awesome! And then the next weekend is the last free weekend, where I will probably be going to Venice and then Padova, and after that is hiking and then the next weekend I'm flying back to Portland. Dear lord, that's no time at all!

How do I feel about that? Weird. I feel weird. It's going to break my heart to leave this place, and I'm dreading the reverse-culture shock (I'm told that's when you expect going back to be normal, because it's home but it feels weird), and a little worried that I have all these experiences I can't share with anyone back home right now. I know Italian will accidentally slip out, that I'll want to use it and not be able to, that I'm going to get on everyone's nerves with my, "This one time, in Italy..." stuff. But I'm excited to go home too. I'm excited to see everyone, I'm excited to have a house (by the way, did I mention I have a house in Portland?) and a job (did I mention I got a research grant for the summer with the professor leading this trip?) and I'm excited to start figuring out what to do with the rest of my life.

However, on the other hand, I'm so extraordinarily happy with my life right now! And not even the external things like the grant and the house and so forth. It's me! I like me! Which you're all probably raising your eyebrows at, and giving me that weird tentative smile. But it's kind of a big deal. So just shush and give me a high five, okay? It's sort of like, Italy has thrown some weird stuff at me. And I totally handled it. So anything North America throws at me will be easy-peasy, since I know North America, and I speak it's language.

The moral of the story: I CAN DO IT! *

Love and misses, see you soon!

<3

*Bonus points for the original quote and the name of the poster lady! 

Southern Italy: A Vacation From Vacation

I've been failing pretty bad at blogging lately. I know you all rely on me for bright shining rays of entertainment and adventure in your dull, dreary lives (this is mostly a joke. Wink wink!), and I'm sorry I let you down. But then, I do this also for me, so I can remember all the awesome things that happened to me. "Hey Rachel, remember that time we scaled a cliff?" "Totally! Remember when we met the love of our life on a train?" "Sort of... let me refresh my memory with my blog!"

Anyway this blog has been in the works for over a week now. So bear with it, and me. Also, I apologize for the length. Seriously, it is the longest blog post ever.  
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So I'm on vacation! Which is great... mostly See - I'm sick. I was feeling like I was hovering on the brink of a cold on my birthday, last Tuesday. And, unfortunately, it didn't get any better, despite staying home from school one day. It actually got worse. I thought it would be okay, except that it actually (and quite predictably) got worse when we left Siena and started travelling. 

But anyway, it's still great! I'm going to give you a day by day summary of what we did, and I promise it will be (mostly) interesting. Plus this way you can skip anything that bores you... Enjoy!
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Day One (Friday), Rome: We left Siena around noon on a bus - a big, long 3 hour bus to Rome. And for some reason, bus/train stations always seem to be in the gross part of a city. Rome was nasty nasty nasty. We wandered around lost a bit before catching a cab to our hostel - which was actually pretty cheap. The hostel was a hostel - bland, kinda depressing in its blandness. But not too bad - the bathrooms were gross though. 

Anyway, we headed out into Rome to meet Heather's friend from home who was in Rome for a week and left early Saturday morning. We meandered past St. Peters and the Fountain of the Four Rivers. And Libby and Hayley and I saw the Pantheon! Which is one of my favourite buildings ever! It was nighttime, so I got to see it in a different light, which was great. 

We had a good dinner at a strange international student restaurant that didn't have Lewis and Clark on it's big long list of American schools. One of the waiters took a fancy to Heather and demanded a picture with her, which might have been why they gave us free 'sexy wine' - bubbly red wine. 

Around 10:30, we went to meet Francesco (my host-brother from 4 years ago) at Trevi Fountain. It was so strange to see him again after so long! It's pretty obvious we've both grown up a lot since 2007... Talking to him really made me realize how far I've come with my Italian. The last time we were together, he spoke English and I spoke no Italian at all. This time, I spoke Italian to him, and no English. It was a sort of eye-opening moment. And it was so great to see him and get to catch up - we pretty much just blabbered on for two hours non-stop.

What the entire time we were together was like!

However, there was an adventure I should relate... We were near the Spanish Steps and one of those flower selling dudes came up to me and tried to sell me a rose. I said, "No, grazie." But he sort of shook his head and insisted, as though he was just giving it to me, then he handed me two more, for Heather and Hayley who were a little way away. He asked Francesco if I was his girlfriend, and Francesco said no, we were just friends. He asked me where I was from, and when I told him Canada, he got really excited and began a long monologue on how the Canadians are really wonderful people. I was super flattered, until he started whispering to Francesco for a bit of money for the flowers. Francesco refused, and said he didn't have any money (clever). When he asked me, I felt bad for being a sucker and just gave him €3. Francesco shook his head and said I was "too nice". 

But I should have known better, and I really do feel bad when I have to ignore the sellers as though they don't exist. Francesco explained that there are just no jobs in Italy, but it's better here then in the countries in Africa where most of the immigrants come from. They arrive, and they're desperate and often face racism and prejudice. It ends up just sort of being this vicious cycle - Italians don't trust them because they're desperate and they're desperate because they're ostracized and there's no work. 

Anyway, we arrived back at the hostel pretty late, and I could definitely feel the achey cold coming on. To make matters worse, around 2 am a bunch of older dudes arrived at the hostel and were very very loud. The next morning they hogged the bathroom and made the whole place smell like damp man. Gross. 

Day 2 (Saturday), Rome/Sorrento: Heather, Libby, and I went to the Colosseum and the Forum/Palatine Hill (take that LCers) which I hadn't seen before. We communed with history. We're going back to Rome on a day trip later in the semester, which will be good for someone to tell us what about the Forum area is important. But the weather was lovely and the view great so it was not at all wasted. Olive trees and birds and flowers and the pyre where they think Caesar was burned. Although I take all that with a grain of salt unless it can be properly cited Chicago Manual of Style format, a la Kate Turabian (it's a nerdy history joke, don't worry about it).

We caught an afternoon bus to Sorrento and napped. But when we got nearer, we were driving along the coast as the sun set, which was the most gorgeous, as the sky turned pink and orange. We accidentally got off at the wrong stop - the man who owned the apartment we rented (for super cheap too!) was supposed to come meet us, but we had to give him directions. He was so kind. A tall thin man who chatted with us and looked down his nose in imitation of the snooty northern Italians. His wife was short and sort of round. She was less friendly - I could tell they're the kind of couple where he's the friendly, out going one, and she probably had to be the 'bad guy' to the kids - but still really kind. 

With her, I first noticed the southern accent. I noticed it on the Italian words spero and Spagna meaning 'I hope' and 'Spain'. In standard Italian, they're pronounced as they look - with an 's' sound. But the southern 'dialect' pronounces them shpero and Shpagna. I was mostly just super proud of myself for being able to pick out the accent at all, since someone had told me it's hard when you don't speak the language to tell accents. 

The apartment was really lovely - two double rooms, usually for two separate couples, with a shared bathroom and a kitchen, fully outfitted. And so windy. We were on the top of a little hill between the Gulf of Napoli and Gulf of Salerno, and the wind was trying it's level best to level the house (see what I did there?). But it was sort of cozy, as long as you weren't sitting somewhere there was a breeze coming in from under a door, or it wasn't raining and making the window in the diningroom leak. We had wireless, but only in the hall near the front door, so we'd spread a blanket out on the floor to keep our butts from getting too cold. Oh, and the other quirk was that we couldn't figure out how to make the hot water for the shower work. Hayley seemed to have really good luck, but Libby and I did not. And the heaters didn't work. I know I'm making this sound awful, but you have to believe me, it was not it was the opposite of awful it was so great. It was really clean, and recently renovated and adorable. Trust me. 

We had a fanflippingtastic dinner that night at a local place that was incredibly affordable and delicious. Heather and Hayley had seafood for under €10 I believe, I had a yummy ravioli and Libby had one of the best pizzas. We shared an appetizer of some kind of pita like dough with arugula, tomatoes, and sharp cheese, and the waiter was so friendly. We rolled ourselves the 3 minutes (literally) home and passed out. 

Day 3 (Sunday), Sorrento: Megan magically and miraculously arrived on Sunday! She managed to make her way on an all night bus from Siena to Napoli and then Napoli to Sorrento, which is impressive, but more impressive, managed to find us way up in the hills! I didn't mention this, but we weren't actually in Sorrento proper. We were a little more out on the peninsula (go look at a map or something so this makes sense) in a tiny community called Colli di Fontanella that is only reachable by 'pull-man' bus, and with a little help from some southerners (who, we were beginning to realize, are extremely friendly and kind) Megan appeared at our door, having figured it all out.

We wandered into Sorrento to have lunch with two other girls from the program who were also  staying in town and then did some grocery shopping. It was kind of rainy, and it became apparent that Sorrento is a fairly touristy city, even if it is fairly deserted this time of year. 

A yummy homemade dinner made by my lovely trip mates who were so kind to poor sick me ended a fairly uneventful day. 

Day 4 (Monday), Pompeii: As you have no doubt already noticed, Monday we went to Pompeii! Which is fairly near by - about half way between Sorrento and Napoli. I was a little apprehensive about just wandering the ruins alone, since it's a) huge and b) just a lot of stuff. You don't really know what you're looking at unless you have something to tell you - a guide or a book or something. And there were guides wandering around, but it was €10 a person for a tour, which is around $13 and a little steep. But a nice old guide named Pasquale (remember, you gotta pronounce all the letters) offered to take five of us for the price of 3, so only €6 each. And I'm so glad we did that, because it made Pompeii so much more enjoyable since he was telling us all the important stuff.

Us in Pompeii! Unrelated to the blog except that it's hilarious.

We saw fountains that still work and are totally potable (although with new valves), the funny street crossing stones, the pipes that delivered water to houses (bigger pipe, more expensive, more water), the public baths, and (of course) the brothel. It's one of the better preserved buildings, but don't worry I didn't post the pictures on the internet. Pompeii as a whole though is very strange. I had a weird feeling wandering the streets of the city and layering in what happened there 2000 years ago when Vesuvius erupted. Like those books from when I was a kid with the pictures of the modern ruins and over top was layered a piece of clear plastic with the ancient city on it, so you could flip back and forth from past to present. It felt a little like that. 

Afterwards we walked along the road to a big super-store like grocery to buy food for lunch instead of eat at a restaurant. It was very strange to be in what felt like a very American style store in italy. But they managed to Italicize it anyway - there was a huge group of Italians standing in one isle, jamming traffic and chatting away leisurely. So Italian.

Day 5 (Tuesday), Capri (and also 6+7): We decided that we had to go to Capri. Yeah, we heard it was touristy, but how bad would it be if we returned to the States and said, "Oh, we were 30 minutes from Capri, but thought we wouldn't go..." Pretty bad, is the answer. 

The weather was absolutely perfect, if a little windy. We took the super short, super grungy ferry (let's just say I have a new found appreciation for BCFerries) over to Capri fairly early in the day. No view to speak of, since the windows were weirdly scratched up. But the water dear lord the water is the bluest of blues. The closest comparison is that water they put in the fountains/rivers of minigolf courses that is so filled with dye. It's like that but real.

I'm about to go down there.

We could sort of tell Capri is a tourist trap, although compared to what I'm sure it's like a few months from now, it was deserted. We decided to meander through the smaller roads of the island on our way to the top - it's a pointy little hill island - so we got to see the adorable little winding streets. We had a windy grocery-store lunch which was delicious and cheap, but the highlight was following Heather down a cliff!

See, we found this old trail which we followed until it started to die, but it didn't quite die it just lead down this extraordinarily steep hill. Which Heather bravely decided to continue along (Libby and I last). It was a little sketchy at some points, but there were ropes and so forth tied to help us down, so we knew people do this with some sort of regularity. At the bottom were these big rocks, no sand, of the tidal pool type variety, but the waves were too strong to actually leave any tidal pools, so it was just a sort of rocky platform. We clambered around, amazed at our luck, jumped up and down in excitement and took a bunch of pictures. The rest of the day was fairly uneventful - we paid an exorbitant amount for coffee near the port where the ferries arrive, and went back to Sorrento pooped. 

Wednesday was a stay-in-and-never-get-out-of-your-pjs-day, and Thursday Heather, Libby, Hayley and I made our way to Ischia, an island an hour away from Napoli by boat. The only story worth telling that day is that the ferry was tiny and there was "lots of sea" to quote the ferry dude. Hayley and I wanted to stay with our stuff, so we sat at the front, where he told us we shouldn't sit. Stupid me was going, "I know boats, I live on an island, how bad can it be!?" Very very bad, is the answer. I'm convinced that hell is being seasick on a boat, and feeling like you're going to puke, but maybe not if the boat just stops right now but it never does. I think the only reason I didn't upchuck is that I was staring at the horizon like a mad man the whole time (thanks for that cookie-saving tip Dad). Hayley and I were both miserable, Libby said she had really felt it to. But Heather, who really knows boats (her dad is a lobsterman in Maine, and she helps him out) was happy as a clam. 

Day 8 (Friday), Ischia: Heather and Libby went to the hot springs, and Hayley and I stuck around town and goofed off. By which I mean, we shopped a bit and I bought local honey with blackberry (I am looking forward to peanut butter and honey on toast when I get back to N. America) and maybe an article of clothing or two. We just sort of wandered the town enjoying the view and the people and some coffee. We decided to pop in to a travel agent, since we all wanted to leave Saturday to get back to Siena early Sunday morning, and we were told they're extraordinarily inexpensive here. At which point, we discovered that the bus we'd been hoping to take was full, and we'd have to find something else. I also had a phone conversation with the rudest person at EuroLine, where he got very frustrated with my limited Italian, told me I couldn't get that bus, and then said "Arrivederci" and hung up. 

So Hayley and I spent the evening researching trains to get us home as easily and cheaply as possible. Which meant, we would discover, taking a night train to Grosseto (which is something like an hour from Siena) and then waiting from 2 am until 5 am for the train to Siena. Fun. 

Day 9+10 (Saturday + Sunday): Heather and Libby managed to get a hike in on Saturday before we left Ischia around 3. The ferry, if you were wondering, was perfectly fine - we probably didn't even need the sea-sickness pills we'd bought. In Napoli, we stored our luggage at the train station for a few hours and went looking for a pizza. Which we found at Da Michele, the pizzeria where they filmed Eat, Pray, Love. We sat by Julia Robert's photo. They only do two kinds of pizza: Margherita and Marinara. It was good, but I don't know that it was the best pizza I've had. I would have liked more basil. But it was cheap, and it brings me closer to Julia Roberts (who for some reason reminds me of my Aunt Karyn... she's probably reading this right now. Hi Aunt Karyn!). 

We finally got on the train at 9ish at night. I joined Hayley in her compartment, because the train was fairly empty and I figured being alone on an all night train was a poor choice. There were two really adorable guys in her compartment who were friendly, and luckily, not at all creepy. They (re)taught me to play a card game called 'scopa' which I'd learned and then forgotten last time I was here. 

All was well until about Rome - we'd turned the lights off and were sleeping/listening to music. A controller had already come by and punched my ticket and not said anything about me being in the wrong compartment, so I thought I was fine. But there was some commotion when we got to Rome and our compartment filled up and one of the guys we'd met left because he was in the wrong place. I pretended to sleep. Hayley says some guy was mad because he was supposed to be in our compartment, but there wasn't room because I was there. But instead of turning on the lights and figuring out who was in the wrong place, there was just a bunch of frustration and wild gesticulating. As I understood it later, the guy didn't have the right ticket. He sat near our compartment in the hall and explained it to another guy in our compartment. 

But here's where I fall in love. At first, there was a lot of noise going on down the hall of the train, shouting and so forth. And all the guys in our compartment get a little concerned and lean forwards/get up. And the remaining cute guy from before gets up, removes his belt, wraps it around his hand, and moves to the door. Like he's going to protect us all from certain death. And there was something so heroic and yet impotent about that action that I was smitten. We barely talked the whole rest of the journey, but in my sleep-deprived state, he was the best person I've ever met. He'll be the one that got away, probably, since I don't know his name and he was going on to Turino (I'm mostly kidding about this dude, but I'm not saying I wouldn't elope with him if the opportunity presented itself).

In Grosseto, there were a bunch of pigeons inside the train station which stopped us from sleeping because they're gross and wanted to eat us. And the toilets were closed, because they have hours, so I may have had to use the bushes. Imeanwhat. 

I finally got home at some deathly hour in the morning - seven or eight or something. I literally started to tear up when I came in - break was fantastic, but it was such a relief to be home especially after so much travel. Siena has never felt more like home.

<3

Pigs, Cheese, Babies, and Adulthood: A (Very Late) Mishmash

[This is for the weekend of March 5th. I'm aware it's late, but I'm on Spring Break and was celebrating my birthday last week, so cut me some slack]

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You guys are going to be so jealous when you hear what I did this weekend! Or maybe just grossed out. 

Saturday we went ham and cheese tasting! First we went to a pig farm to see the pigs before we ate them. The kind of pigs are unique to this area and are called Cinta Senese. 'Cinta' comes from the word 'sash', and refers to the white band behind their forelegs - the rest of their bodies are black. They have to have this stripe, or else they can't really be called Cinta Senese... They're really super frickin' old - Ambrogio Lorenzetti painted one in his 14th century painting Allegory of Good and Bad Government in the Palazzo Pubblico here in Siena. Other characteristics - they have longer faces than most other pigs, with big long noses for snuffling around in the underbrush for bugs and nuts and so forth. Along with that, their ears actually sort of hang over their eyes to protect them from leaves and sticks while they look for food.  

Here piggy piggy piggy... 

So, some more pertinent information regarding these pigs: they almost went extinct because in their natural forest foraging habitat, they were meant to get really fat really quickly so that they could survive the winter months. But with the advent of industrial farming, they got too fat and the meat was no good. It was only in the last half-century that there was an attempt to make them viable again. They took two male pigs and somewhere in the vicinity of twenty-nine female pigs and (with the help of some other types of pig for genetic diversity) made them a viable breed again. There's a 'club' of Cinta Senese farmers who have really strict rules about how you can or cannot raise the pigs. For example, you have to have at least one acre for every two pigs. You have to feed them a very specific diet, which you can supplement with some special stuff that's good for them, but most of it has to be nuts and bugs and stuff they would have eaten in the wild.

The man who owned this farm used to be an industrial pig farmer, I believe, but he switched to Cinta Senese because they're way more interesting. They take longer to mature than what he called 'white' pigs, but that seems like a good thing to me - their lives are longer that way! Their meat is actually really good for you. It's got omega fatty acids (the good fat) and anti-oxidants and good cholesterol. But the meat is really expensive (understandably) because of all this - it takes longer to raise the meet, the rules are strict, and they require a certain amount of space. Although, they did live in mud, and I'm sure that mud had all kinds of gross byproducts of pigs in it... But that didn't stop me from putting on their strange plastic boots and wandering around in it to get closer to the pigs. 

However, the meat was flipping fantastic! The fattiest one was poesie - poetry, the farmer told us, and it was pretty awesome. We had five-ish pieces of meat, ranging from super fatty to not so fatty and the last two were actually salami. The last one had fennel in it. Yum! 

Afterwards, we went to a pecorino (sheep) cheese farm - certified organic by the EU! The whole place is run by a woman and her two (three?) brothers and like one other person. They have their own herd of sheep and feed them appropriate, natural foods that they grow themselves, so they can guarantee the quality of the milk they get. And they have their own naturopathic sheep doctor - only in extreme cases do they use antibiotics. Oh, and if you were wondering - really good ricotta, you have to eat within a week. If you can keep it longer, it isn't good ricotta. 

The younger, softer cheeses were my favourite, but it was all super good. We got to have ricotta, soft as cream and without salt, with honey and pine-nuts last of all - it was heavenly! So so good. Speaking of which, if you haven't had sharp cheese with honey, do it now. It's sort of like cheese and jam. So much happy taste-buds on Saturday. 

My favourite, although probably mildy racist...

Sunday we went to Carnivale in a small town that does these big floats. Apparently, Siena claims they're the only ones with contrade, but they're lying - this town has four neighbourhoods, and they compete every year to build these huge floats that have moving parts and make music and blow smoke. They're flippin' huge.

And the way Carnivale works is that lots of people get dressed up in costume and have a huge party in the streets throwing confetti at each other and eating and drinking before Lent starts and they have to behave themselves. Little kids are particularly prevalent and particularly adorable. I took a lot of sneaky pictures of cute kids in costume, and got a number of weird looks from parents because a 20-year-old was photographing their kids. But so goes life. 

We returned home covered in confetti, and most of us were still finding it in our clothes days later. I had a huge amount of fun, and was all prepared for my birthday Tuesday, which I'll mention only briefly.

I sort of celebrated my birthday for two days - starting on March 8th in Italy, and continuing until the end of March 8th in North America. I woke up super early on my birthday for early-morning birthday Skype, so that started the day off on the right foot. March 8th is Festa delle Donne in Italy, a special day for the ladies, and these gross little yellow flowers called mimose are given out, so my host mom gave me some of those. Apparently I can take them home with me, because they will never loose their colour...

Simon also took me out for dinner! Which was lovely - it was nice to spend some time with him, since we don't take Italian together (he's much more talented than I am at it...) and don't ride the bus together. The pizza was the most delicious I've had here, I think. Simon says there is better pizza and I think I would die if I had something tastier!

Then, of course, there were birthday drinks, and a nice early(ish) night since I was fighting a cold (which I've since succumbed to). Wednesday I got cake for breakfast, so it was, all-in-all, a really great day.

I apologize this is so extraordinarily late, but I'm on spring break now, and was preparing for it all last week. I'm posting this so hopefully I can post a first-half-of-spring-break post in then not too distant futre. I know you all miss me terribly and can't stand to be left so long without updates, but peace. There will be beautiful pictures of Capri in the next post, so that should ease your pain.

Love and misses!

<3