Pisa and Putti

While you were all dozing away, dreaming your dreams, or getting sloshed at a party in Portland on a Friday night, trying and failing to get lucky, I was in Pisa. No big deal (it's a pretty big deal). 

Karen, our program leader, decided she was going to go to Pisa to see some art, and invited us all to tag along if we wanted to. Which was actually a really excellent idea, because Karen is an art buff, and so she could tell us all the stuff we even wanted to know about what we were seeing. 

Four of my friends and I decided we'd buy tickets the night before we went to Siena. Someone had told us you could get train tickets at the bus depot, and since it's very conveniently located right next to where all our buses come, we figured, what the hey, we may as well get them now. Poor choice. We nominated my friend Simon (poor Simon...) who speaks the best Italian to talk to the lady. He asked for, "Un biglietto di treno per Pisa, in mattina, per favore," which means "One train ticket for Pisa, in the morning, please". Which the lady gave us, for €14 which confused us because we were told it was €7 one way. And it left at 7:10, and Karen said the train left at 9:20. But, we figured, she knows best. She knows we're foreigners, we asked properly for what we wanted. We must just be on an earlier train. Oh how silly of us. 

After we'd all bought our tickets, we took a look at them, and realized that what we had were bus tickets. And not only that, but that they were for the Pisa airport. So we were on a super early bus to the wrong part of town. Yeesh. Luckily, we're all cool people and no one freaked out. Plus, Kate and I were told by a nice lady we met at dinner that it's easy to get to downtown Pisa from the airport - it's dirt cheap and takes almost no time. So the next morning, we were all up at 5:30 to catch the bus downtown and wait around for an hour for the bus to Pisa. Which was a lovely trip, except that at some point near the end, I realized our bus driver had been driving with little headphones on the whole time. Typical Italy.

Thus, we arrived and bought our €1 train tickets and got on the grungiest train for Pisa Centro, thinking that would be the city centre, somewhere near the tower. How wrong we were. We got off in some ghetto-y part of town covered in graffiti and kinda smelly. We walked to a sort of shopping lane and managed to figure out which bus we needed to get to il torre (the tower) and even bought bus tickets at the tabaccheria! We're grown ups and etc now. 

I saw the tower first. It's in this green area called the Piazza dei Miracoli (so named because of some dude writer in 1910, not because any miracles happened there, as far as I can tell - unless you count Galileo discovering the Law of Falling Bodies) which includes a Duomo, a Baptistry, the Campo Santo and the famous leaning bell-tower. Of all of the things we saw, the bell tower was the least impressive - it was still awesome and I still paid the €15 to go up and look around (amazing view) but it was still the least cool of all the things we saw. It does lean. It made me a little dizzy/nauseated to climb up - it's a very strange feeling going round like that and also tilting. I sort of have weird feelings about the tower - I know it's famous for leaning, but I kind of feel like that's lame. I mean, it's popular for having a flawed design... So strange. Education time - for those of you who don't know, the story goes that Galileo dropped two weights off the Leaning Tower and proved that their falling speed was independent of their mass. Also known as, in a vacuum, everything falls at the same speed. SCIENCE.

But let's talk about the other stuff. First, let's talk about the Duomo. The Duomo is simply stunning. It's huge, first of all, and it's Medieval. Which Kate tells me means it only has two clear levels - later they started building more and more levels and just filling it with stained glass. Thus, this one is slightly darker, and it's columns are thicker.  It's super detailed - the roof has all these inlaid panels that are über carved up with flowers and those baby angel things you see everywhere. The ceiling, the paintings, the carvings on the buildings. Which are called 'putti' from the Italian word for little boy, and which Kate pronounces 'POO-dee' and I think is literally the most hilarious word I have ever heard. They're all over the place. Later that night, after dinner, when we were all getting loopy over lack of sleep, Kate made me cry with laughter just repeating the word over and over and over. I don't know what it is, but it kills me every time. I foresee this being a problem. 

But back to the Duomo - it's fantastic (and very gothic, I'm told). There's a huge mosaic of Jesus up at the front, and art all over the place. Mini art lesson for those who care: there was early baroque, late renaissance, and romanesque art. The baroque you can tell because of the diagonals, the bright colours, and intense shadows. Think of Rembrandt. But for me, the art often got overshadowed by the extraordinarily impressive architecture. I'm not Catholic (dur), or particularly religious, but Churches like this impress me immensely. It's like - people created this beautiful thing with something greater in mind, some kind of hope for humanity. And I find that human hope extraordinarily powerful. However, I don't think I'll ever get on board with the whole 'relics' thing.

The Baptistry was also very very awesome. A baptistry, if you hadn't figured out, is where people get baptized. And for some reason you need a whole other building for it. But I'm not complaining. The Baptistry is awesome awesome awesome. Both it and the Duomo have these fantastic, tall, carved pulpits, with columns that rest on lions backs, and a big eagle holding a book open on it's wings (that's where you put the papers for preaching fire and brimstone). It's an eagle because one of the Four Evangelists (I forget which one) is an eagle, because of being able to see the future and etc. There was a lovely mosaic pattered floor, and stained glass, a lot of which was broken. We climbed up into the upper level, and as we were taking in the just massive size of this place, a man came in and started singing. Only it wasn't really singing - he stood in the middle and called out notes in different directions and made a song all by himself. It was so so gorgeous, and gave me shivers. I managed to get a video - thank god for my camera and the video button that just automatically starts recording. I would like to apologize to a certain amateur documentary director for mocking his incessant filming before I arrived. 

Now, apparently back in the day, the place to go in Pisa, the real tourist attraction was the Campo Santo. There were a huge number of Roman sarcophagi there that the Pisans studied to learn how to sculpt and do art and so forth. Reasons Pisa was awesome back in the day. They are all gathered in this long enclosure with a lovely grassy courtyard in the middle, and there are real tombs of Pisans in the floor. A couple were even from the last 20 years. It used to be that on the outside walls (which have blind arches on the outside - on the courtyard side, the arches have fantastic latice work at the tip), there were these wonderful frescoes. But during WWII, the Allies thought the Germans were stockpiling weapons and using the Tower for observation. There was a plan to bomb it, but the story I've heard goes that the dude changed the coordinates so as to not destroy the tower, and instead (whether intentionally or not), firebombed the Campo Santo. The roof lit on fire, and was covered in molten lead, destroying pretty much all of the fresco. The are remnants of a number of them on the walls, but there are only two that are really still intact - "The Triumph of Death" and "The Last Judgement". It's extraordinarily sad, because it's a very impressive building, but it would have been so much more impressive with the frescoes all around. And in the last judgement, angels are pulling souls out of of tombs at the bottom, which, because of the actual tombs on the floor in the Campo Santo, would have been really impressive and pretty darn freaky. Plus, the devil in 'The Last Judgement' eats sinners, ahem... expels them again out the other end and the process starts all over again. In 'The Triumph of Death', there are these angels who point at these ladies with their arrows, infecting them with plague (but not THE Plague - this was before). I get this little cruel chuckle every time I see it, because they don't know they're going to get sick and die. It's very evil of me. 

There are also two museums, which were neat, but not as neat. One was the Museo dell'Opera, which I won't talk about because it was not particularly interesting except for a collection of engravings a dude did of the frescos in the Campo Santo in the early 1900s, late 1800s. The other museum was the Museo delle Sinopie, which is where they've stored all the sketches that were discovered under the frescos of the Campo Santo after the bombing. That was pretty darn cool - they're all painted on in this red paint, and it's pretty cool to see the planning, and also a sort of hint at the frescoes that were destroyed. 

So, you would think that after this our day would be done, what with getting up at the crack of dawn. But you would be wrong. We had a glass of wine in Pisa, which is very grungy and gross compared to Siena - it's super touristy, so that doesn't help. The Piazza dei Miracoli was lovely, but the rest was not. Anyway, we hopped on another kind of grungy train back to Siena, and seven of us wandered up to this restaurant we'd spotted a few days earlier to have dinner. It was about 9 when we arrived, and 11ish when we left. I had a lovely pasta with Sienese boar ragu, and we shared some cured meats and bruschetta for an appetizer, and demolished two bottles of prosecco between the seven of us. Which I had never had before, and adored. It's like a ballet of bubbles on your tongue! It all felt very adult - some people even had two courses, which is just not really a thing in N. America. 

The moral of the story is that by the time I got home, riding on the last bus at 12:20, (because they don't run from about 10:20 until 12:20) with all the young Italians going off to the discoteca and the pubs, I was almost dead. But I managed to stay awake and upload some photos onto Facebook, and even chatted for a bit with a couple people back home. I slept in this morning until 10:30, which is extraordinarily late for me since I've been here. One of the best parts of going to Pisa though, was realizing how lucky I am to be in Siena - it was so nice to come home. 

<3 

ps. There would be pictures, but the internet won't upload them here, so if you'd like to see and you DON'T have me on Facebook, let me know and I'll send you the highlights. 

It's a Hard Knock Life... For Me.

I lead a terribly difficult life here. Poor, poor me. (I do feel badly writing about how awesome stuff is here when I know stuff sucks and is very difficult in Portland for some of you. I'm sorry. I'm always reachable if you want to whine, you know I love all you academes.)

Yesterday we had a test, which was not super easy, but really nothing to complain about given the amount of homework we've had/have overall. And I did well enough on it - I was thrown by the fact that the teacher wanted us to use formal once or twice, and a number of us were told that Tuscans don't use the formal ever, and none of us have been using it with our families. But truly. No whining.

However, I did forget my lunch. I was putzing around in the morning, not paying attention and then had to go very suddenly. So I didn't get my coffee and both my Nonna and I forgot all about my lunch in the frigorifero. Allora, I went to school without it. Which was fine, I bought a panino and a croissant at the bar next door (remember: bar = cafe) for less than 3 € which is pretty impressive. But man, was I scolded when I got home. Not particularly harshly or anything, it was just a much bigger deal than I expected. If I'd left my lunch at home in Canada, my mum wouldn't have cared. It wouldn't have been her problem, or her fault. But Maura was much more concerned. As if I 1. couldn't feed myself and 2. might be seriously injured by going hungry for a day. Food is the most serious business here. Speaking of which, I'm supposed to tell my family that I am eating lots, and Maura is very happy about it. Those were her exact orders. Operation Get Fat will please at least two people, I know, but I'm not so sure how happy I'll be when none of my clothes fit anymore. But I can't seem to help it... I packed away a huge amount of tortellini yesterday, half a big frittata (like an omelet but with potatoes and way better), two mandarine oranges, and two desert pastry sticks. What the heck.

On the topic of Maura, however, I am also under very strict orders to buy a new coat, because we're going to the Alps in two weeks. Kate, my friend across the courtyard, has been equally chastised. Only she found a coat today. See, the style here is (for some unfathomable reason) extraordinarily puffy. In a country generally known for it's style, this seems like a very very strange choice. Many of these coats are also eerily shiny and glossy. Some are alright, but a huge number make every other person walking the streets look like a lacquered version of the Michelin Man from the waist up. Oh, and in addition, fur is also very popular here. Meaning some old ladies have full length fur coats, but also that these puffy jackets quite often have fur lining the hood. Now, I'm not sure how I feel about fur on an ethical basis. But on an aesthetic basis, it just kinda weirds me out. Like... I'm touching hair but it's not connected to a living thing, like it feels like it should be. And in the arctic, I know fur was used to do scientific anti-cold things to the air in front of your face so your face didn't (literally) fall off. So that always throws me off - "It's not that cold here, your face isn't in danger of falling off, why the fur?"

But I figured I may as well look anyway. Today was Wednesday, which means the day of the Mercato which is the big market that the Sienese all go to. It's cheaper than the stores in the city centre... and has pretty much everything in varying levels of quality. Panties. You can buy panties. And knives. Don't ask why those two things stuck out in my mind. Anyway, most of the coats were either of inferior quality to the lovely wool one I left at home, or puffy and fur filled. So no. I did get a little black cardigan for 10 € ($13), so more layering yay. Today I decided to wear two pairs of socks - my leggings which I've been wearing every day for too long and normal socks. Poor choice - my toes were very smushed in my shoes. Which was no good especially because we had to go on a weird scavenger hunt all over the city. I didn't mind the walking, because the city is beautiful, but some people in our group were too excited. It was supposed to be for speaking Italian, but it was kinda dominated by those who cared too much.

Although we did run into this awesome old man who not only answered our question (the synagogue we were looking for was right beside us) but also explained that apparently we aren't to supposed to say mi piace (lit. it pleases me) for things we wouldn't eat. What we're supposed to use (and WordReference tells me this is a Tuscan thing) is garbare or io garbo (I like) for things that we see - like this girl, he says, pointing at Heather (with her curly hair and sweet face). Because, he explains, you don't eat her (ahem), you look at her with your eyes. I swear this was a lot less creepy than it sounds.

After such an exciting adventure, meandering around shopping was extraordinarily tame. Although there was some beer and pizza and a lot of drooling over fire-engine red vespas. Which is a colour very near and dear my heart, as many of you know. As a celebration, however, for Kate finding a coat and Robin (who you can find at robinboedecker.blogspot.com) finding an awesome bag and Simon a lovely new wallet (hooray for shopping therapy) we went to a really lovely little bar and shared a bottle of wine. It was so nice to just sit and chat and spend some time super relaxed time together when we were all in a particularly good mood. And the wine certainly helped, especially with my homework when I got home.

Allora, the plan this weekend is to go to Pisa and see the leaning tower, and whatever else is there, which I'm told is some awesome art. I look forward to Karen (our program leader) and Kate's lectures on why this art is awesome. I should mention that when I was a kid, I used to be really confused by the leaning tower. I was convinced, since it was in Italy, it was the Leaning Tower of Pizza. Which made perfect sense, in my head.

<3

ps. I have lovely internet capable of Skype, and a pretty open schedule in my mornings and evenings (Between 12 and 3 and then 9 and 10:30 pm West Coast time). So if that's something that sounds appealing to you, let me know. 

One Week in Paradise...

Allora. Where did we leave off? Yes. The day before yesterday - Saturday. The day we saw the amazing art (did you look it up? It's going to be very difficult for us to have this online rapport if you don't. Come on now. How long will it take? Just type it into Google, press the "images" button and ta da. We'll be good.) and then went to the hot springs. And let me tell you, hot springs are the best and the worst. 

The best because they are warm and I love warm. And they made my skin so lovely and soft. The worst because these ones were very crowded (granted, it was a Saturday) and very European. By which I mean, there were a significant number of couples engaged in serious PDA - smooching, snuggling and just generally being nauseating. Plus, to be honest, it was a little creepy because the water was very murky because of the sulfer and calcium or whatever, so you couldn't actually see anything that wasn't above water. Which brings me to my next point - I went through the serious aerobatics in the shower to shave my legs because I didn't want the Europeans to be repulsed by my usual state of somewhat furry hippyness and it was all for naught because my legs weren't even visible. Lame. 

Anyway, the way the hot springs work is that the first pool is inside and very warm. You can go through a little plastic hanging curtain thing outside where the water is cooler, and the farther away from the first room you get, the colder the water gets. Apparently it's awesome in the summer, but no one really wanted to go past the second pool at this time of year. Because of the sulfer, it all smelled a bit eggy, but thanks to my aforementioned hippyness and the fact that we have a well that used to smell eggy, I was not bothered although some people were. And the über soft skin was a fair trade off for my hair being a little chalky for a day. So that's that.

Yesterday, on the other hand, we had a walking tour of Siena and all it's contrade (which is the plural of contrada, if you've been confused). I suppose I should clarify that not every contrada has an animal - one is the shell, and another has a rhino but is called "the forrest". The more you know. But that was pretty interesting, and a bit more historic. For example, did you know that the streets are windy and sometimes go nowhere in part by design - an invading army would accidentally get super lost. Oh, you think you're heading right into the heart of Siena on this little road? Surprise, it ends right here, oh and by the way you're now stuck because we've come up behind you. Spear.

Another story - Florence used to attack Siena all the time, and usually from the north. One time, they had a spy tell the Sienese, "Oh Florence is gonna surprise you from the South," so they moved all of the dudes to the South. "Heh heh," thought the Florentines, "We're totally gonna surprise them and finally we'll get this dang city." But no. Why? Because the women held off the entire Florentine army long enough for the Sienese to get back to the other end of the city. NO BIG DEAL.

After our walking tour which took the whole day but seriously I think we walked every single road oh dear lord, I went with Kate to her house (across the courtyard) to do our compiti. Which is one good thing about being here - I have very little homework. But if I thought my house was cold, it's positively sweltering compared to hers. There was literally no heat. I feel so very sorry for her. We were snuggled up in blankets at her little desks. And for all of you haters, bear in mind, it's pretty much at 0 or colder every day (that's 0 celsius, Americans). And buildings are not only not as well heated, but even if they are, the heat is rarely turned on the way it is in America. Then turning-on-the-oven-and-opening-it-up method of heating the house would be seriously not cool here. And not just because the oven is gas and we'd all die. Showers are also super short, because water is expensive. So I hope you guys in N. America are enjoying your privilege while I try to keep up minimum hygiene in 2 minutes flat in lukewarm water.

But today I did something that will make you all very very jealous. There's a cooking school right next to our school - in the same building (they're both very very tiny schools) - and we had a complimentary cooking lesson today! We mostly watched the lady cook the zuppa which is called pappa con pomodoro and is made with stale bread, which soaks up a bunch of oil and garlic and then tomato. It all sort of mashes together, so it's still soupy. Apparently it's kinda a poor person soup, but is also very Tuscan. Then there was rolling pasta noodles. They were thicker than spaghetti (in theory) but some were very uneven and misshapen. It's hard to roll those things that thin and even. Especially the ends. My hands are shiny because I was rubbing them on the cutting board. Finally, there was a thin pastry stuff that is slightly orangey that we rolled out as thin as we possibly could, sliced into pieces, deep fried, and then covered in powdered sugar. So. Crispy. So Good. I'd upload a picture, but the internet is not happy with me today. 

So now you are, I believe, all caught up. Ta da! I have an Italian exam tomorrow - i verbi irregolari and preposizioni. Yelch. But it shouldn't be too hard. Hopefully - heh.
However, I feel the need to sort of sum up my week, since I have been here essentially one full week (I sort of lost Sunday and Monday last week somehow). [NOTE: the rest of this will likely be of a more intense nature, and somewhat boring. Feel free to skip to the end, this is mostly for me.] It feels like forever and no time at all. I was thinking it felt more like forever, but that might not be true. It's strange. Allow me to explain.

Most of you probably know, I've spent the last 3 years of my life trying to return to this country. Heck, this program was a huge factor in me choosing Lewis and Clark. It's the one thing I knew I wanted to do, for sure, and it's been a major part of my life. So. I'm here now. Now what? I've spent so much time with Italy being my thing, that I'm trying to adjust to Italy not being my thing. Because after this, it won't be, or not in the same way it was before. 

We had an email from my program leader, Karen, about an opportunity to stay here (or near here - San Gimingnano) in the summer to study things like 'Paper Restoration' and 'Art Restoration' and 'Historic Architecture'. Which would actually be really cool. But I had this super confused moment, where I expected to want to do it so badly, because I totally would have jumped at the opportunity to study in Italy prior to my being here. But I am here. And then I started wondering if the reason I wasn't excited was really because I'm here now, or if it was related to my life in Portland. If because I feel so at home there, I'm hesitant to even want that kind of opportunity. And I don't really know the answer. I suspect it is a bit of both - I'm here, but I also have a life back in the States in a way that I don't think I had before College. But I'm still trying to figure out where this loss of Italy as an end leaves me.

Of course, tied into this is that the last year has been... intense. And I suppose Italy is as good a place as any to do an assessment, better in some ways. Because I'm very very alone right now. Which is not the same as being lonely - there are people here, and I have friends and etc, but they're not people I've spent huge amounts of time with in the past. And I think it's good for me to be alone. In some ways, I'm actually really enjoying it. The last few months, I haven't really been on my own at all. No but seriously. So this hanging out with myself is kinda overdue - "Hey, how you been?" "Eh. Not bad." "Yeah. We should hang out more." "Totally! What do you want to do?" "Not sure yet... let's just wing it!"

Y'all can shush about the whole, "You're twenty!" thing. Yus, I know. I am the youngest. There is no one younger than me. All kinds of shit is gonna change. I just figured I'd start the change myself. Hopefully, this thinking thing can continue and I can get a little clearer on where I'd like my life to go in the future, so I don't drift aimlessly flailing about because I lost Italy as a goal. It doesn't have to be a path like, 1. grad school, 2. live in x city, 3. find slightly nerdy dude who likes doing the dishes and thinks I'm the bees knees, 4. start popping out babies, especially since those are not all necessarily things I want, or at least not in that order. It's more like a feeling or a colour. And I am not sure I'm as pleased with the shade of my life back home as I could be. Allora, I intend to use this alone time to figure out what particular hue I'd like to be and see if I can't make sure the big things in my life match my new drapes.

Dear Lord, that was a little heavy. Oops. Oh well. Next one will be all cute Italian boys (HA! Seriously, where are they all hiding?) and the comedy of watching me try to open doors (think about it: all doors in N. America are pull to go in, but here you push).

<3 

Serious Art. Serious Panorama. Think About it.

What to say, what to say. It's been a hectic couple days. First we got Lost the day before yesterday. The dudes from the college dropped us off in the middle of nowhere (aka, outside the city walls) and told us to find our ways back. It wasn't really the middle of nowhere - it was definitely somewhere - the point was supposed to be that these were places we could go on our own that would be useful. Anyway, we just had a little grocery store, and that was about it. We meandered through it to kill time, since we were told it'd be pretty easy to get home.

Things I learned in the supermarket - I don't think Italians refrigerate their milk. They had big cases shrink-wrapped, where you could take one or maybe all 10 one litre tetrapaks just sitting in the middle of the store. Someone said it was powdered milk but that makes zero sense. Especially because it looked very similar to the milk I have every morning on my cereal, just a different brand. Clearly, the Italians are more advanced than we are. Or something.

Also - adorable little juice boxes. They were like those little plasticky ones, not the hard waxed boxes but the soft ones you stick a straw in, except they were square and had little screw tops. Now, I can hear you thinking, "Sheesh, Rachel, what's so exciting about juice boxes? All the fun stuff about Italy and you're talking about freaking juice boxes?" And you're right. They're not that exciting. Except that you need to know, if you don't already, I freaking love juice boxes. My mother never bought them for us, because they had sugar or were wasteful or not made of tahini or almonds (I kid, but seriously what kid wants a tahini sandwich for lunch?), and consequently they have always been mysterious, magical things. So shush. Humour me. You're the one reading this durn thing.

Anyway, the point is it was super easy to get back into the city centre in the walls - the only bus that came at the nearest bus stop was the 10 which goes directly downtown and happens to be the one I take every morning. So we got back super early, but spent the rest of our time putzing around downtown. It's pretty much impossible to get lost, because everything accidentally and roundaboutly returns you to somewhere that's familiar.

Look at those light bars. Look at them.

However, the best place we went was up into this fortress (smallish...) built by the Florentines when they took over Siena a long time ago to stop the Sienese from rising up. There's an Enoteca there now (a wine place with all the wine on the market in Italy right now, and also a place for drinks but that is closed until February) and a Jazz school. It's also where people go to run or walk around the top, because running in the city is not a thing that is done - one, there are no sidewalks and two, as a result the streets are crowded and you'd be in the way. But the view is the best. So lovely, and the sun was just coming out... I took a bazillion pictures and only a few turned out. I've given you this one because of the light bars coming down from the clouds. So lovely. That white tower is the Duomo and big cathedral and the brown building on the left is where St. Catherine's shrivelled head, with her scraggly teeth.

Dead dude!

But, of course, remember there are a bazillion churches here. So the next day was Santa Maria dei Servi. Which is also cool, and also contains parts of dead people. The art is just lovely, but I spent a huge amount of time trying to take a picture without flash and eventually gave up. And then realized I could just use the intelligentAuto setting. Oh well. 'Twas still lovely. There's some dead dudes who I think were just rich, but dead and showing their deadness off. There are also crypts under the church, but you can't get in. I was all gung-ho, but nope.

It actually was snowing for a bit while we were in the church. A bit. Thus, it was very cold. But not really a big deal - nothing was sticking, and the ground was not freezing, yet Siena kinda flipped out a bit. Or at least the school did, and they cancelled (or rather, postponed) the trip to the hot springs for the first group (which was not mine). In case it did freeze.

But it didn't. So we actually ended up having apperativi with a professor. He took us to this little hole-in-the-wall (well, everything is a hole in the wall here) where we were the only customers. He bought the first bottle, we split the second, and there was a complimentary prosciutto plate, lovely tomatoes with oil and mozzarella. The wine was the best I've ever had. When I was a kid, I thought, "Wine - it's made with grapes! I like grapes." I didn't think it tasted like grapes. I just expected it to be smoother than it usually is. Well, this wine tasted much closer to what I imagined wine would taste like when I was a kid. It was so smooth, so lovely. But don't worry, I only had a glass, since I had to go home for dinner. I'm responsible.

Today, I putzed around Siena again. We went to the Piazza Pubblico, and the civic museum and saw a bunch of the art we talked about in my Medieval Literature class last semester. For example - Simone Martini's Maestà, Ambrogio Lorenzetti's Allegory of Good and Bad Governement. Look them up on the internet. And then realize that they look pathetic and sad in comparison to the real thing. The Maestà was simply breathtaking. We sat there for... minutes. Just staring at it. And the other thing is, thousands of people before have stared at it and asked for things or had their own thoughts about it. And I wonder what those things were, and how similar or how different we were. I guess that's the thing about the old stuff here in general, and in particular the religious art. I end up feeling super connected to people I know nothing about and have nothing in common with except that we were both wrapped up in our own private, world-shaking thoughts. Makes me feel small in a safer way than looking up at the stars. Anyway, look the paintings up. If you don't, fine, your prerogative, but I will be very disappointed.

Other ones to look up that I saw in the Museo dell'Opera del Duomo (we didn't actually go into the Duomo, not yet anyway) - Duccio's Maestà and the Madonna degli Occhi Grossi. Duccio's is very big, and again, looks sad and pathetic compared to the real thing. That room is kept at a certain temperature, so not only was it lovely and did we just want to sit and stare, but also it was warm so we wanted to sit and warm up and eat lunch. The Madonna is very important, because waaay back in the day (1260 to be sort of exact) the Florentines (for kinda complicated reasons) attacked Siena and Siena won, despite being out numbered. They claim it was because they laid the keys to the city in front of the Madonna and begged that she help them out, which she did. Dante claims it was because one of the Florentines was a traitor. Maybe a little bit of column a, bit of column b. Peas and carrots, look up these pictures. I know it won't be the same but it'll give some context to what I'm talking about. I'd show you pictures, buuut I wasn't allowed to take any.

Took so many pictures. So many settings.

You can also climb up in this tower type thing near the Duomo. Which we did. Which was awesome. Had a huge amount of fun fooling around with the different colour settings - loving the film grain one. 

Anyway, that takes us up to about 2:30 today. At which point I will leave you for two reasons: 1. I am exhausted and 2. gotta keep you coming back for more. 

Some housekeeping: I love the comments, and I love the emails. A lot of this blog is just for me, or I'm writing it thus to make it less awkward, but I definitely like knowing people are reading. That for sure makes it less awkward. And, without comments or emails, I have no idea if I'm typing to empty internet or not. So yes, those who have asked about emails and comments, I love both/either. It's lovely here, but it's also a little lonely, so emails and comments are always appreciated, even if I don't respond immediately.

On that note, I will wish you all an excellent night/day. I'm going to sleep now... which is what my body has been trying to make me do since 6 pm.

<3 

A [Brief] History of Siena

So since I've been waking up at weird hours (I went to bed at 10:30 local time, and it's 5:30 now. Yesterday I woke up at 2 and before that 4:30 - both times managed to fall back to sleep eventually), I figured I'd write a bit about Siena and why it's an awesome old city. If this doesn't sound interesting, tough luck, why are you my friend since I adore history, but you can just skip to the bottom. I'll mention my host Nonna down there.

In the beginning - a long-ass time ago, Siena was an Etruscan city-thing. I say city-thing because I am unfamiliar with the Etruscans as of yet, and so I'm not really sure how city-like it was compared to just place-people-live-like. The Etruscans were the dudes who lived 'round here before the Romans came and converted (to Roman-ness! not necessarily a religion...) them. The impression I got was that the Etruscans didn't really mind too much being converted, but that might just be Italian prejudice. 

Anyway, after that Siena was super popular for a fairly long time because it was on the Roman-Super-Highway that went all over Europe and the best city North of Rome. Apparently Germany was barbaric and uncivilized by Roman standards at this point, so besides some cities in France, Siena was the place to be. So haha, Siena has always been a tourist stop. The Sienese were clever, and tried to attract the pilgrims going to Rome (durr, this is after the Roman Empire collapses, maybe like a flan in a cupboard, maybe not [bonus points if you get that reference], and now we've got the Pope and the seat of Christianity in Rome). 

Then they did something super clever - they built a hospital. Apparently in the Middle Ages, people were having a hard time with the contagious part of sick, and thought, 'Whelp, Bob's arm is falling off 'cause he picked his nose at dinner and God is smiting him.' But Siena apparently built the first modern type hospital (they also claim the first modern bank, but I believe that was years and years later) to keep the sickies away from the healthy people. So that was awesome. 

Of course, if you know anything about Italy in the Middle ages, you will remember that there's this period of warring city states. Everybody has a wall, and everything within the wall is very self-sufficient, and it was every man for himself (and his city...). Siena even has green areas that used to be emergency farms. But they seemed to do pretty well. For a while, Siena had a bunch of rich families who had their own mini-fortresses within the larger city walls and they fought each other regularly - like boiling-oil-down-your-neck fighting.

Medieval cities tend to look like this. Siena is particularly hilly. See the emergency farm on the left?

But then they got this Council of 9, who are sort of elected - I say sort of because it's only the rich people doing the voting, but apparently if you study democracy you look at Siena for sure because they each represented a portion of the population like the merchants and the metal workers and blah blah. So I'm told. Anyway, they're the ones who actually built the Campo and the Palazzo Pubblico (that's where the horse races are today). And they manage to keep everyone happy by throwing a big party every year and doing gruesome things like bear-baiting. One game involved dropping a block of wood and having the best knights try to get it (killing each other in the processes, if need be, and you know it needed to be) and take it out of the Campo. 

The most popular though, and this eventually developed into the horse race, so see if you can find the steps, was that these huge dudes would carry huge candles (like the size of smaller dudes) from one of the big gates into the city up to the church and whoever lit the candle first won. I know, you are thinking 'What the heck, how do we get to horse races from here?!' Well. It starts with a big long line for a race being inefficient for the watchers - you can't see the whole race, you have to pick a place to stand and you only get to see a little bit. Remember it's not necessarily important who wins, but the fun, brutal stuff that happens before that. So in no particular order, because I can't remember if one came first and if so what, they made some changes. They tried having bulls pull the candles, but that went badly because they smashed into things like the audience. They tried having horses race pulling smaller candles, but horses don't know why they're racing. So they put a dude on top, and eventually lost the candle. Then they thought they'd do it in the Campo, because it would be in a circle, and they'd have the people stand in the middle, everyone would be happy. Ta da!

This is the Elephant Contrada.

I suppose it's worth mentioning that the way the Contrade developed (the 17 areas of the city) was that the Council of 9 divided the city into 50 some odd parts a long time ago and gave each part a section of the city wall to defend. It ended up working really well, except that it sort of divided the city into little microcosms. But then the plague hit in 1342 (I think my date is right, don't be mad if it isn't) and only one in every 3 people lived, so they shrunk the areas down since the city was way smaller. And then at some point, the Contrade started racing instead of just rich dudes. So there you go. The origins of the Palio.

Anyway, the last bit of Sienese history is that at some point, Florence and various other kings and countries and so forth took over. And by 'took over' I mean 'extracted taxes', but Siena stayed mostly the same, since the overlord dudes just wanted money and could care less if the Sienese wanted to do weird festivals where they raced around carrying or not carrying shit and killing each other a little bit. 

Thus ends the History of Siena lesson. I hope you were all taking notes, there will be a test. The following is a brief explanation of my host Nonna and some pictures. 

My host family, as I believe I mentioned before is one little old lady. Her name is Maura - she has a son (grown up) named Andrea (not pronounced like the English girl's name, but ahn-DREh-ah), a daughter who's name I don't know but who has a son named Matteo and a husband named Massimo. Very Italian names. Maura makes me breakfast every morning - so far it's mostly just cereal and a bit of fruit. I also get an adorable packed lunch - un panino (which is just a sandwich, not grilled or whatever) and a piece or two of fruit. It's all wrapped up in paper towel and tinfoil and in a little bag. It is the most adorable.

I also get dinner between 7 and 8 every day. Yesterday was the best so far - pasta with pesto (I am going to guess homemade, because I had to help her open the jar and it was not a store jar) and pizza. Just with tomato sauce and some cheese and some onions. I don't know if she made it herself - it was the shape of her pan, and it was in the oven, but I suppose that means nothing. It's not strange that I don't know, because class gets out fairly late, and yesterday I went to see St. Catherine's shrivelled head after class before going home. Either way, it was the best. 

In addition, Maura seems to really like me. She calls me 'tresore' and 'cara' or 'carina' which means 'treasure', 'sweet', and 'little sweetie' respectively (and somewhat roughly). So that's good. I'm supposed to tell the family that she's taking good care of me, and not to worry about me. Which is true. My Italian is appalling but we seem to communicate pretty well. Somehow, we managed to have a conversation about Afghanistan yesterday - the Italians are also there. 

Anyway, I think that's about all I've got to say for now. You guys are lucky, all these posts coming your way. I suppose in theory they'll drop off once my 3 weeks of Intensive Italian starts for real - 5 hours a day, 5 days a week. Yelch. Buuut at the end we get to go skiing in the Alps for a few days. NO BIG DEAL. 

Seriously, if anyone wants to drop me an email, I would not say no to some good old fashioned American gossip, or just a friendly hello from Canada or the States. It's strange, because the days are amazing, but it gets a little lonely at night. I am simultaneously super excited, super nervous, and super missing everyone back home. 

<3 

Siena, this is Rachel. Rachel - Siena.

Initial analysis of Siena:
Too hilly. Too many stairs for the love of god!
Too cold. Specifically, every building is the coldest. Well, most buildings.
Otherwise perfectly wonderful in every way! We wander around inside the city and flip out because everything is old, but the Italians just don’t care. 
Things I’ve done so far:

Had the cappuccino I’ve been waiting 3 years for. It was the best, durr. I cannot explain why, but it just tastes different. There was no fancy flower/leaf/frond thing in the foam. The cup was fairly small. But it was perfect. I even took a picture of it, I was so happy. Also – 1 €, which is approximately $1.30. So not only does N. America fail at flavour, it is all ridiculously overpriced. Bravo. 

Rode the bus all by myself with Kate. 

There is a girl who also lives with a little old lady who is friends with my little old lady right across the courtyard thing. Yesterday morning, we were all taken down into the walled part of the city (by the way, the walled part of the city is old Siena, and almost no Sienese live there, because it’s a UNESCO site, and so you can’t even paint your shutters any colour other than grey and dark green) by our host families. Most of them took us on public transit, because they all live on transit lines. So Kate and I were taken to the same bus stop and we rode it all the way downtown. At the end of the day, our families were supposed to pick us up, but we were pretty sure our old ladies had told us to take the bus home. So we called them, and they said yes, and so we did! It was very exciting. We asked the bus driver where Aqua Calda is (Hot Water is apparently what our stop means?) when we got close, and he showed us. It’s right by a soccer stadium, so that’s super easy to remember. In addition, I also now have a friend. Not that I didn’t before, but it seems like most people have roommates, or at least two people in their families. Both of us were very lonely the first night, especially because it’s just us and our little old ladies. 

Got Internet and a phone. We were told a phone would be most helpful. So we all did it. And for a lot of us, there’s no internet at our houses. Which isn’t bad, per se, except that there are only so many books you can read and it turns out at home is the best time to upload pictures and post blogs. Plus, now I can Skype from time to time. Also known as rarely, but there you go. 

Other interesting factoids:

1. Our school is in an old slaughterhouse next to Fontebranda, which is a sort of fountain thinger, more like a building over a mini bubbling pool. It was built in like… 1000 using aqueducts to bring the groundwater into the city. The slaughterhouse was there because then you could come in, kill your animals and wash them right away. But it hasn’t been a slaughterhouse in the longest time, so don’t worry.
2. Apparently Mussolini and Siena were not great friends, so Mussolini decided not to put the city on a rail line. Which makes Siena a little tricky to get to. Apparently there are now trains, but because it would have been ass-expensive to get them up the hill that is Siena, you have to go out of the city and down the hill. I am now in my second day - second cappuccino, second solo ride on the bus. Keep your eyes peeled for another post soon about Siena's history (pretend to be interested!) and perhaps some pictures. If you're lucky, and also very nice. And maybe if you send me an email. <3

The Day of Eternal Travel

I dislike airports, I have decided. They smell funny, and they're uncomfortable - for most people. And I'm always irritated by those people who seem perfectly pleased to be in transit. You know, the women with the hair and the makeup and the shoes? That's my least favourite way to dress normally, forget when I'm way up in the air and exhausted and cramped. Don't get me wrong, I love travel, I just dislike the getting there part, specifically the type that is eternal transit, one million transfers! But really I shouldn't complain, right? I mean, 3 flights isn't that bad... 

But it is when you've only had 3 hours of sleepless sleep (packing always takes longer than I expect, and then there's the required goodbye phone calls to everyone not in Portland) and will be travelling for over 18 hours. Gross. When I finally got past the nervous butterflies to sleep, I promptly had a panic-attack about getting to the gate on time, about going through Germany, about flights being delayed, about missing flights, but half asleep and half awake. Then, of course, when it was time to get up at 5:30 am, the power went out. And it wasn't just out, which was probably a good thing since I wouldn't have woken up without the alarm but appears pretty bad when you're in the bathroom doing your early morning business and it goes out. And then you have to get dressed and hold up a cellphone in order to assist in the making of a pb&j sandwich. 

Yet, here I am. In Portland airport, voted best airport in America three years in a row, I am being constantly reminded. And honestly, it totally deserves it. The security dudes who checked my ID and boarding pass and put me through the metal detectors were not only not evil but they were actually friendly! What a concept! Security was fast and efficient - they opened up another lane to move people along before the line stretched to eternity. Apparently I am very easily impressed. Oh, and by the way - I'm on the airport's free internet. It just saddens me that so little of my trip will be here, since I highly doubt Seattle will measure up. Sure, PDX isn't as pretty as Vancouver, with their fancy new stuff to show off for the Olympics, but it is much more pleasant.

But enough gushing about the airport. The point is I'm more or less on my way. And yes, I'm excited. But I'm also scared shitless. Yes, I've been to Italy before, but really... that hardly counts. It was not very good preparation for leaving for approximately 100 days. This is going to sound the lamest, but I feel like I'm sitting on the cusp of some shift or something. I know that this won't be like anything I've ever done, and likely everything will have changed when I come back. Which is freaky, mostly because it's unknown. And I just wish I knew what would still be here when I come back - I'd love to tag the stuff that's important and say, "Please, leave this. This makes me happy, so let's keep this." But then, maybe that's just the stuff I'm comfortable with. 

Anyway, they're preboarding now. I should start paying attention. Keep me in your thoughts as I traipse across the globe in the next 18 hours. 

UPDATE: 
I have made it to Seattle safely, although that last part was in the air (ha!) for a bit. Portland weather means not fun turbulence. Now begins a long waiting game for a long flight. Seattle is not as nice as Portland, but at least it's hopped on the free wi-fi bandwagon (or should I say, bandwidth, amiright?). Anyway, I was supposed to announce to my loved ones that I will likely not have internet access until the 18th. I'm not sure if that's the 18th Italy time or West Coast time, but you have all been warned.

Have met a woman who graduated from UW and who's going to Korea to teach English for two whole years. The only person there is her fiance and she doesn't speak Korean - she's been studying it only since last night. Sheesh. Makes me feel silly for stressing about my measly 100 days with people I know! She hasn't even met his family yet... I suppose I should put on my big girl panties and quit whining. Although this does highlight one of the strange things about airports - I don't know this woman/girl, but she just poured out her whole life story. She's worried and stressed, and needs to tell someone. Airports do strange things to people. Small town girl engaged to Korean company son... Anyway. I feel sorry for her. She doesn't seem that excited, she seems fretful and unsure. I might be nervous as all get out, but I am excited, and I know, surely, that this is a good thing.

<3 

ps. Bought a camera (or rather, a camera was chosen for me and then I coughed up the dough)! Panasonic LX5, for what it's worth, with awesome macro and HD movie. So many inane videos of meanders around Portland by an amateur documentarian (no, not me). 

This is the way the year ends: Not with a bang but a whimper

Waiting for the New Year to sneakily creep in, second by agonizing second, always makes me feel strange. Like I’m supposed to feel different in that instant and then moments on the other side of the midnight line. Maybe because I’ve never felt what I think I’m supposed to feel that I often get angsty around the year change. But it doesn’t help that the last week has been ridiculously stressful.

For those of you lucky enough not to have heard my late night tirades, I shall explain. I was impatiently waiting for my passport with shiny new Italian visa to arrive, so I could head out to see my grandparents and then return to Portland. I was/am looking forward to puttering around the city I’ve been living in for 3 years, but never properly had time to enjoy.* Because I am me, a special and unique individual, my solution was to obsessively check the United States Postal Service website to see if the tracking number was in use yet and neurotically read everything about visas on the Consulate General’s website. What I discovered deeply disturbed me. First, they say it takes 30 days to process a visa, and second, they don’t process visas for people who don’t live in a select number of happy American states. Canada isn’t one of those states, as much as some Americans like to include it in the American sphere of influence. Cue panic of epic proportions.

I can hear you rolling your eyes, saying, “Someone would have told you if you needed to send it to a different Embassy. You can’t control this, let it go! You just have to relax, I’m sure it will all work out and you will not be left behind, you are still going to Italy!” Yes, thank you, oh wisdomous ones. I am aware I can’t control any of these things, just my reactions; take a chill pill, blah blah. But that doesn’t mean I can’t fret, even if fretting means I have an awful pit in my stomach all day and can’t eat and sleep badly. Besides, I was telling myself all the same things.

And I did get over it. I took a lovely walk on the beach in the dark (“I don’t want you walking along the road in the dark, why didn’t you tell me you’d left!?” My stepdad is also good at fretting, although to be fair, I probably should have told him I was leaving) and saw my good buddy Orion and the hints of the islands off the coast illuminated by various cities behind them. It was very cold, and very dark, and very lovely. I don’t generally like looking at the night sky – I feel tiny and insignificant in a futile way and I feel like the sky will DROWN ME AND THEN LAUGH BECAUSE IT DOESN’T CARE MUAHAHA. It also made me laugh at stupid bureaucrats who think that what they do matters. Like watching ants frantically rearrange sand. It’s kind of sad. I wanted to go pat them all patronizingly on the head, and say, “Does it make you feel better to nit-pick? Silly pen-pushers.” Thus, refreshed and relaxed, I returned triumphant to my castle. Then I actually called the consulate and a very nice man told me my passport was almost done. Which was the sane course of action, but durr I had to flip out first. Those of you who did suffer through my angst-filled fretting, I am eternally grateful. You have gone above and beyond the call of duty. =]

Of course, now begins the frantic gathering of STUFF. Things like tights and socks and undershirts and shoes and bags and notebooks and sweaters and and and. And it is slooow. In one day, we managed to cross two things off my list. *TWO*. That’s pathetic, even by my indecisive standards. I haven’t even begun the gargantuan task of choosing a camera, although I was promised the assistance of someone in the know when I get to Portland (read: who know something about cameras other than you push the button and it takes a picture). Although there is really only one major thing left to do before I can leave. But I cannot stop fretting – what if I don’t have the right stuff, what if I look like a tourist, what if I don’t have the appropriate clothing layers for the central-heating-challenged peninsula and so forth.

But I did not begin this post with the intention of whining about my existence. I began this post, because it’s finally 2011! And I’ve been waiting for this year ever since I found out the first overseas program to Italy I could attend would be this spring! And it seems like an excellent way to start the year. 2010 went out with a bang – lots of stress and fretting, but that’s in keeping with the year as a whole. 2011 entered with the joy that my passport is FINALLY on it’s way north from San Francisco, and lots of lovely anticipation for heading across the pond. And despite my annual end-of-year anxiety, I actually like the New Years. It’s all fresh and shiny and I totally buy into that second (or in my case, twenty-first) chance, improvements stuff. So although it might make me a “chump” I’m going to make a resolution. I resolve to do my best to keep this excited, happy feeling around for the whole year. I want the whole year to feel like the adventure that I’m about to embark on.

So now you have all been caught up on the goings on in my boring ol’ life, I’ll take the opportunity to wish you all a happy New Year. Whether you make resolutions or not, I hope this year is an improvement on the last. If you’re in Portland, come see me and receive my affection before I am spirited away to the land of pasta and pizza. If not, I’ll be mentally hugging you all as I prepare to leave.

<3

* There are also some things I haven’t crossed off my list yet that I decided would be easier to do in Portland than in Nowhere, BC, Canada.