i understand it has only been a few days since my last letter, but since i have time, and the energy i will write this to prove i can indeed get back on track with writing these.
Not much has happened since Monday. relativly of course. This was a short week of classes since we had Thursday off because of All Saints Day, and as always, i dont have class on fridays. By Wed. the wkend had come back around for me. I would like to take this moment to do some slight bragging and rub your nose in the dirt a little. forgive me. For drawing class last week we spent the first 40 minutes having a lively discussion on the social changes that have occured in America and how it effects the behavior of men toward women (and other various non related subjects). Mid conversation we heard Lorenzo's booming voice echo through the hall and with an eye roll my professor cringed...grr...lorenzo is here, we'd better do something. so we migrated to the nearby Van Gogh room and had a very short theory lecture on facial proportions. Once it was completed, Raphella, the teacher asked what time it was. Realizing how much remained, she urged us all to sneak out and we went to a caffe and drank thick, rich hot chocolate and ate flaky delighful pastries all a treat from the professor. And all during class time. As the class dispersed off into the city, Raph and Avery and I sat, becoming ever more comfortable in our corner as Avery gave us tarot card readings and read our palms. And later talked, cried and laughed over our lives. That evening myself and a friend and my roomate meet her again for dinner at a small family owned resturand that treated us like family. We then headed to a nearby club for drinks and spent halloween together laughing, arguing and talking the night away.
Yesterday i boarded a bus and road up the hills to Fiesole, a small town that looks down on Florence. There, i explored the streets, found Etruscan tombs and a old monestary. It was a beautiful fall days and leaves chased me to and from down the streets, brilliantly colored.
This brings me to today, I have it all open, and my roomates left for Austria on Thursday morning. I may finally go to the Uffizi or end up shopping the afternoon away in botiques. Tomorrow i am going to Bologna and potentially some of its surround towns as a day trip. IF nothing else this afternoon i will probably flash my Uffizi card at the security guard and take in another look at Michelangelo's David. Never disapoints.
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
''To the four elements of earth, water, air, and fire,'' he declared, he added a fifth one, ''the Florentines'' -Pope Boniface VIII (10.28.07)
I am not trying to make a habit of being late with this, as it may appear. As of last Thursday, i was walking home, dazed after a 12hour train ride from the island of Sicily.
From where i left you, I was on the other side of midterms and on the other side of the halfway mark of my trip. Both lines have now been crossed, and while i am eager for things ahead, i wish i had the ability to press pause and stop for a moment. I feel sometimes as though i am chasing the days, trying to catch them all at once in a jar. As of today, i have less than half of my time left and if that isnt shocking to you, it sure is to me.
I left for Sicily on the evening of the 23 and spent 12 hours not sleeping on the train. Once arrivng in Catania, we manuvered busy unrelenting streets of traffic and after asking as many sources as possible to find a bus to our B&B, many of which were contradictory, we eventually were on a bus, up Mt. Etna. I would like to especially point out that about halfway there the bus slowed and evetually came to an unexpected stop. Instictly i leaned forward in my seat to see what was the reason. A herd of about sixty old world sheep, long haired and horned were being guided across the street by a shepard and a pair of snippy slinking dogs. Once they had passed and even the stubborn noncomplying members of the flock had been convinced across the street, the busdriver causually put the bus back into drice and continued on his way. Our trip was further detoured when he decided on several occassion to stop in various towns for espresso or a sandwhich and left his passangers in the quarters of the vechical like waiting dogs. We realized a stop too late we had passed our destination and jumped off the bus at the next stop, alone on the side of a mountain. We laughed at the mistake and headed down the road, being narrowly missed by passing vechicals on the sharp edges of the road, dropping into the hills. We found our B&B and very pleased with its adorable rooms and view of ioanic sea from the balcony, unpacked and cleaned up standing on the heated floors of the bathroom and dried off with towels off the heated towel rack. These measure were true royalties after cold hostel floors and crispy bleached sheets taht are often supplied by board on other excursions. We spent the evening out to eat in the small town and i feel asleep easily after my 24 hours awake.
Awaking to the sound of clattering dishes, I dressed and wandered out in the hall meet by a cheerful room full of food for breakfast. It would be a lie to deny that the pastry i had may have changed my life forever. With help from Patrica the women who owns the BB with her husband we made phone calls to the top of Mt. Etna to decide if it was advisable to mount the climb that day. We were discouraged to do in the poor weather and decided to see Catania instead that day. In the city we found a food market like nothing i have ever seen. Fresh fish flew back and forth, vendors yelled at the top of their lungs to one another and to customers of their low prices. Live canaries, octupus, fruit in every conceivable variety, pig faces and the esteemed heads of swardfish were avalibale for purchase. Old women pushed their way to the best fruit and the noise and clamor of the comerce could be heard a full five blocks away. We were tolerated by the locals, but just barely. Sicilians are Sicilians, and they know it. The guy who took a liking to me on the ferryboat the train must board to advacne over the water that seperates Sicily from the rest of Italy told me, as we gazed over the water that Sicilians can live in Northern Italy, but the rest of Italy can not dwell in Sicily. They do not understand the mafioso, and are not at ease with its existance as the Sicilians are.
After the market, we strolled the streets to the elephant fountain, up the hill to a monastery. Avery eventually sat and painted in the square as i spent the rest of the time wandering myself. I made a very humerous exchange in a electronic shop when my ipod headphones shorted out, full of hand gestures wild and enthused enough to keep up with the locals.
We made our way back to Nicolosi and headed back to the resturant for some more Sicilian pizza. While it was wonderful it did not compete with the aranche that i had devoured at lunch. This dish of rice and meat fried into a pearsized ball, Salvo, the guy from the ferry boat, noted with a smile and a twinke of pride you will only find it there.
The next morning with determination we insisted that we wanted to go up Etna to our hosts who looked at us with wonder but non the less dropped us off at the bus stop in town, the first i have been in a car since i left America, and the 2 minute drive barely counts. In mockery to our hurry to be there on time, as there is only a lone bus that goes up each morning, it arrived 45 minutes late. Eventually it arrived and climbing the slope, Etna continued to amaze us with gorgeous panaramic views asnd her lava remained, slopped onto the slopes, now dark and deserted of any life. The fields of lava went as far as one could see, broken only by slashes of trees that were not initailly covered. Once we arrived on the summit, we boarded jeeps that headed up further. In the mist and fog and blowing wind we followed a guide to several craters. While it was freezing cold, digging only a few feet into the rock would find stones almost too hot to hold. We eventually went back down to a resturant and spent the day clammering around and dogging in and out of shops that have been built on the hub of the bus stop to keep warm.. There was only one bus up and one bus down, and we could not miss it. Thankfully, this one came at its scheduled time. After 2hours we were dropped at the train station and Avery and I felt the relief of a trip done successfully. That is until we found ourselves at the designated platform, full of yelling Italians. Through strained listening and the help of Sicilains who endulged us with broken English we learned that we needed to catch a bus to a different station, 2 hours away to get on a train to Florence, on the other side of Italy. We had made our assertive moves of finding out just in time and grabbed our bags and ran to the bus, encouraged by handsome train station workers. A large flood and mudslide had caused the rails to not work, and this bus was used to shuttle us to a workable port. Finally arriving at the next station, something we hadnt even imagined we would have to do, we waited and waited for the train to board. We stood for an hour as it was prepared, and ourselves and the other passangers grew quite restless and irritated at the delay. Eventually amongst the yelling and grumbling of the rest of the passangers we finally collasped in a cabin of the train. It wasnt the sleeper we had paid for but at that point memories of Florence were making us more than ready to reach her again. Salvo showed us how the seats reclined, and after taking in the glistening sea with him and making pained exchanges, his english bad and my italian worse I fell asleep as the train chugged its way across the countryside. I awoke to a full morning moon looking down on Roman ruins out the window.
Finally the train slowed, its breaks squeaked and we stopped in sweet Florence. My bag flung over my shoulder i walked home in the early morning light, the shops opening slowly and sleepily, the thick doors opening like a yawn. I got home, but too antsy to sleep i decided to check out a flea market that occurs only on the last Sunday of each month i had joted down questioning on my calendar. It was fantastic. I gazed over gasmasks and helmets from WWI, along with oilpaintings and old Venician vases all cluttering tables. Sparkling necklaces hung from hooks, catching the morning light and Florentines dug through piles of sweaters and scarves. Antique photographs littered countertops and books, some looking like manuscripts blew open in the wind. I made one well picked purchase, a unique silver necklace, with tearshaped pearl beads from an old man and women who wrapped it delicatly and handed it to me with a "thank you" in an thick italian accent, returned by my ''prego'' delivered with american dialect.
I searched out a painted fresco afterwards in one of our many churches here and the experience was one of a loud reminder that i am indeed in Italy. Ducking into the church, the deafening noise of the street was deadened. The ceilings were high, and the walls thick, and the echoing noise of my footsteps were all that could be heard. Candles light in front of each chapel danced in the wake of my passing. Glancing out the open door of the church i could see bustling shoppers, and i knew that just down the road are shops of such designers as Prada and Gucci. A mix of old and new. An acceptance of both. Bikes swerved in and out of buses and teenagers walked past the door clutching McDonalds bags.
Florence loves both. Its bustling city, but defends its heroic past as well. The birth of Opera, gelato and the independant mind. Dante was a Florentine. So was the poet Pietro. Americo Vespucci. Galileo Galilei. Leonardo DaVinci. We were the capital of Italy. We defended ourselves from being taken by others, and nearly died because of our beliefs. The Italian language was based off of our dialect. The Renissance of man, his independant mind and the things he could create, the things he could think about and the thoughts that could carry him to the heavens were allowed here for the first time since the Roman empire and we escaped the dark ages and the thumb of the Christian church that oppressed the autarchic mind and a higherarchy of classes. We made the art that the masses marvel at, we supplied the knowledge of medicine to the masses, we thought reading was a good idea and questioned the world. Of course, I am becoming biased, but everytime i leave Florence to see more of Italy i am always anxious for my return, even after just a few days. This does strike me as distressing because in 46 days i will leave. wow. and then...what will i do?
-Corrie
From where i left you, I was on the other side of midterms and on the other side of the halfway mark of my trip. Both lines have now been crossed, and while i am eager for things ahead, i wish i had the ability to press pause and stop for a moment. I feel sometimes as though i am chasing the days, trying to catch them all at once in a jar. As of today, i have less than half of my time left and if that isnt shocking to you, it sure is to me.
I left for Sicily on the evening of the 23 and spent 12 hours not sleeping on the train. Once arrivng in Catania, we manuvered busy unrelenting streets of traffic and after asking as many sources as possible to find a bus to our B&B, many of which were contradictory, we eventually were on a bus, up Mt. Etna. I would like to especially point out that about halfway there the bus slowed and evetually came to an unexpected stop. Instictly i leaned forward in my seat to see what was the reason. A herd of about sixty old world sheep, long haired and horned were being guided across the street by a shepard and a pair of snippy slinking dogs. Once they had passed and even the stubborn noncomplying members of the flock had been convinced across the street, the busdriver causually put the bus back into drice and continued on his way. Our trip was further detoured when he decided on several occassion to stop in various towns for espresso or a sandwhich and left his passangers in the quarters of the vechical like waiting dogs. We realized a stop too late we had passed our destination and jumped off the bus at the next stop, alone on the side of a mountain. We laughed at the mistake and headed down the road, being narrowly missed by passing vechicals on the sharp edges of the road, dropping into the hills. We found our B&B and very pleased with its adorable rooms and view of ioanic sea from the balcony, unpacked and cleaned up standing on the heated floors of the bathroom and dried off with towels off the heated towel rack. These measure were true royalties after cold hostel floors and crispy bleached sheets taht are often supplied by board on other excursions. We spent the evening out to eat in the small town and i feel asleep easily after my 24 hours awake.
Awaking to the sound of clattering dishes, I dressed and wandered out in the hall meet by a cheerful room full of food for breakfast. It would be a lie to deny that the pastry i had may have changed my life forever. With help from Patrica the women who owns the BB with her husband we made phone calls to the top of Mt. Etna to decide if it was advisable to mount the climb that day. We were discouraged to do in the poor weather and decided to see Catania instead that day. In the city we found a food market like nothing i have ever seen. Fresh fish flew back and forth, vendors yelled at the top of their lungs to one another and to customers of their low prices. Live canaries, octupus, fruit in every conceivable variety, pig faces and the esteemed heads of swardfish were avalibale for purchase. Old women pushed their way to the best fruit and the noise and clamor of the comerce could be heard a full five blocks away. We were tolerated by the locals, but just barely. Sicilians are Sicilians, and they know it. The guy who took a liking to me on the ferryboat the train must board to advacne over the water that seperates Sicily from the rest of Italy told me, as we gazed over the water that Sicilians can live in Northern Italy, but the rest of Italy can not dwell in Sicily. They do not understand the mafioso, and are not at ease with its existance as the Sicilians are.
After the market, we strolled the streets to the elephant fountain, up the hill to a monastery. Avery eventually sat and painted in the square as i spent the rest of the time wandering myself. I made a very humerous exchange in a electronic shop when my ipod headphones shorted out, full of hand gestures wild and enthused enough to keep up with the locals.
We made our way back to Nicolosi and headed back to the resturant for some more Sicilian pizza. While it was wonderful it did not compete with the aranche that i had devoured at lunch. This dish of rice and meat fried into a pearsized ball, Salvo, the guy from the ferry boat, noted with a smile and a twinke of pride you will only find it there.
The next morning with determination we insisted that we wanted to go up Etna to our hosts who looked at us with wonder but non the less dropped us off at the bus stop in town, the first i have been in a car since i left America, and the 2 minute drive barely counts. In mockery to our hurry to be there on time, as there is only a lone bus that goes up each morning, it arrived 45 minutes late. Eventually it arrived and climbing the slope, Etna continued to amaze us with gorgeous panaramic views asnd her lava remained, slopped onto the slopes, now dark and deserted of any life. The fields of lava went as far as one could see, broken only by slashes of trees that were not initailly covered. Once we arrived on the summit, we boarded jeeps that headed up further. In the mist and fog and blowing wind we followed a guide to several craters. While it was freezing cold, digging only a few feet into the rock would find stones almost too hot to hold. We eventually went back down to a resturant and spent the day clammering around and dogging in and out of shops that have been built on the hub of the bus stop to keep warm.. There was only one bus up and one bus down, and we could not miss it. Thankfully, this one came at its scheduled time. After 2hours we were dropped at the train station and Avery and I felt the relief of a trip done successfully. That is until we found ourselves at the designated platform, full of yelling Italians. Through strained listening and the help of Sicilains who endulged us with broken English we learned that we needed to catch a bus to a different station, 2 hours away to get on a train to Florence, on the other side of Italy. We had made our assertive moves of finding out just in time and grabbed our bags and ran to the bus, encouraged by handsome train station workers. A large flood and mudslide had caused the rails to not work, and this bus was used to shuttle us to a workable port. Finally arriving at the next station, something we hadnt even imagined we would have to do, we waited and waited for the train to board. We stood for an hour as it was prepared, and ourselves and the other passangers grew quite restless and irritated at the delay. Eventually amongst the yelling and grumbling of the rest of the passangers we finally collasped in a cabin of the train. It wasnt the sleeper we had paid for but at that point memories of Florence were making us more than ready to reach her again. Salvo showed us how the seats reclined, and after taking in the glistening sea with him and making pained exchanges, his english bad and my italian worse I fell asleep as the train chugged its way across the countryside. I awoke to a full morning moon looking down on Roman ruins out the window.
Finally the train slowed, its breaks squeaked and we stopped in sweet Florence. My bag flung over my shoulder i walked home in the early morning light, the shops opening slowly and sleepily, the thick doors opening like a yawn. I got home, but too antsy to sleep i decided to check out a flea market that occurs only on the last Sunday of each month i had joted down questioning on my calendar. It was fantastic. I gazed over gasmasks and helmets from WWI, along with oilpaintings and old Venician vases all cluttering tables. Sparkling necklaces hung from hooks, catching the morning light and Florentines dug through piles of sweaters and scarves. Antique photographs littered countertops and books, some looking like manuscripts blew open in the wind. I made one well picked purchase, a unique silver necklace, with tearshaped pearl beads from an old man and women who wrapped it delicatly and handed it to me with a "thank you" in an thick italian accent, returned by my ''prego'' delivered with american dialect.
I searched out a painted fresco afterwards in one of our many churches here and the experience was one of a loud reminder that i am indeed in Italy. Ducking into the church, the deafening noise of the street was deadened. The ceilings were high, and the walls thick, and the echoing noise of my footsteps were all that could be heard. Candles light in front of each chapel danced in the wake of my passing. Glancing out the open door of the church i could see bustling shoppers, and i knew that just down the road are shops of such designers as Prada and Gucci. A mix of old and new. An acceptance of both. Bikes swerved in and out of buses and teenagers walked past the door clutching McDonalds bags.
Florence loves both. Its bustling city, but defends its heroic past as well. The birth of Opera, gelato and the independant mind. Dante was a Florentine. So was the poet Pietro. Americo Vespucci. Galileo Galilei. Leonardo DaVinci. We were the capital of Italy. We defended ourselves from being taken by others, and nearly died because of our beliefs. The Italian language was based off of our dialect. The Renissance of man, his independant mind and the things he could create, the things he could think about and the thoughts that could carry him to the heavens were allowed here for the first time since the Roman empire and we escaped the dark ages and the thumb of the Christian church that oppressed the autarchic mind and a higherarchy of classes. We made the art that the masses marvel at, we supplied the knowledge of medicine to the masses, we thought reading was a good idea and questioned the world. Of course, I am becoming biased, but everytime i leave Florence to see more of Italy i am always anxious for my return, even after just a few days. This does strike me as distressing because in 46 days i will leave. wow. and then...what will i do?
-Corrie
to prove it can be done (10.18.07)
i thought in an effort of trying to save myself from getting entirely overwhelmed, as i usually am when i write these, i will compose one here on Thursday, my usual day regardless of corresponding already this week. These last couple days, bring astonishment worth reporting anyways.
on tuesday afternoon, after a monday in which neither myself nor my roomates could pull our selves out of a score of lackluster negativity, i found myself seated in an opera house, waiting like a child on a birthday for the red velvet curtians, branded with florence's crest to open revealing a ballet behind. And when it did..... *wow*.
Dance is one of my favorite forms of art for many reasons, but the strongest of which is sense of the fleeting moment. While watching a ballet or other piece for that matter your eyes follow the legs and arms and bodies of the dancers rythmically until you are put into a placid trance. Once this has been achieved, in what often seems to be a coy spite, a breif unrepeatable moment will catch you off guard and shock your visionary senses. An angle, or erratic turn, or composition of lines that jerk you into focus. But as soon as you realize the brilliance... it is gone, and you are abandoned, anxious to be startled again.
My mind danced the whole walk home.
Through the efforts of my much appreciated drawing instructor i now own a membership to this theatre that allows me to get into an forthcoming shows for a dramatically slashed price, and ensuring as soon as this Saturday the euphoria will be repeated.
The rest of the week filled itself with the ever familiar midterm moods. Restlessness and agitated consignment, very much the same as back home. Doing odd jobs that would otherwise be of no interest to put off studying, being one of the most notable. Our bathroom and kitchen sure are clean right now. But i am now finished, and looking forward to this coming week. I have the unimaginable riches of 10 days off from school ahead. While my roomates are taking a cruise to Greece and most of the CAPA students are wandering to Western Europe i will remain her in Italy. A friend of mine are going to travel to Sicily, birthplace of pizza and still under the thumb of the mafia to climb a volcano, Mt. Etna. Our plans are haphazardly composed right now, and this week could bring anything. I will spend some the the supplimentary time when i am back in Florence visiting the unmeet Uffizi, and perhaps straying from the city and taking a few day trips to places such as Lucca or Fiesole.
Frightening enough, when we all reconvene in Florence after the break, the midway point will have come and gone for my time here in Italy. A sobering thought indeed. Prague, Venice and Rome will lead me through November like an animal following a tantalizing trail.
I hope you all are well. Step on some fall leaves for me, as the trees here fail to succumb fully to the season and hold their foliage stubbornly. I will try to avoid falling into the volcano over break, stealing paintings from the Uffizi or making a scene while gorging myself with gelato.
Ciao! -Corrie
on tuesday afternoon, after a monday in which neither myself nor my roomates could pull our selves out of a score of lackluster negativity, i found myself seated in an opera house, waiting like a child on a birthday for the red velvet curtians, branded with florence's crest to open revealing a ballet behind. And when it did..... *wow*.
Dance is one of my favorite forms of art for many reasons, but the strongest of which is sense of the fleeting moment. While watching a ballet or other piece for that matter your eyes follow the legs and arms and bodies of the dancers rythmically until you are put into a placid trance. Once this has been achieved, in what often seems to be a coy spite, a breif unrepeatable moment will catch you off guard and shock your visionary senses. An angle, or erratic turn, or composition of lines that jerk you into focus. But as soon as you realize the brilliance... it is gone, and you are abandoned, anxious to be startled again.
My mind danced the whole walk home.
Through the efforts of my much appreciated drawing instructor i now own a membership to this theatre that allows me to get into an forthcoming shows for a dramatically slashed price, and ensuring as soon as this Saturday the euphoria will be repeated.
The rest of the week filled itself with the ever familiar midterm moods. Restlessness and agitated consignment, very much the same as back home. Doing odd jobs that would otherwise be of no interest to put off studying, being one of the most notable. Our bathroom and kitchen sure are clean right now. But i am now finished, and looking forward to this coming week. I have the unimaginable riches of 10 days off from school ahead. While my roomates are taking a cruise to Greece and most of the CAPA students are wandering to Western Europe i will remain her in Italy. A friend of mine are going to travel to Sicily, birthplace of pizza and still under the thumb of the mafia to climb a volcano, Mt. Etna. Our plans are haphazardly composed right now, and this week could bring anything. I will spend some the the supplimentary time when i am back in Florence visiting the unmeet Uffizi, and perhaps straying from the city and taking a few day trips to places such as Lucca or Fiesole.
Frightening enough, when we all reconvene in Florence after the break, the midway point will have come and gone for my time here in Italy. A sobering thought indeed. Prague, Venice and Rome will lead me through November like an animal following a tantalizing trail.
I hope you all are well. Step on some fall leaves for me, as the trees here fail to succumb fully to the season and hold their foliage stubbornly. I will try to avoid falling into the volcano over break, stealing paintings from the Uffizi or making a scene while gorging myself with gelato.
Ciao! -Corrie
momma mia (10.15.07)
well, then. wow. this is late!
i was exhausted thursday afternoon, and thought that i could do this last friday but thursday brought some unexpected trama in my personal life (dont worry, i wont go into it, but its fine). so, capa as it always does closed early on friday and without internet access over the wkend...well, alora eco me. tutto bene.
so, i have two wkends to brag about about now. and i suppose that is fine too. back track with me...
Two weekends ago i made the essential journay to cinque terre. Hiking from Monterosso to Vernazza left me absolutly exhausted, but clammering over uphill paths on cliffs overlook the medeterranean sea will do that. It was however, entirely breathtaking, and the company was fantastic, some of my capa favorites and i took on the hike and celebrated together our arrival in the second of the five towns, Vernazza. Once arriving amongst the clattering of the bell tower we slipped down the hills and slunk into the jovial town. Once breath was caught, each of us dove into the sea, squealing at the cold waters, and laughing in delight. Seeing the view from above however brought me a sense of dejavour that i couldnt place. That is until i realized my brother Aaron had stood in the very place just years before. The concept was rather mindblowing...
We took the train from the second town and in time constriction forged ahead to last. After taking in the town, we settled into a restaurant. Everything you hear of Italian cusine..its superiority of that of the rest of the world, is entirely true. Leaving the table, our hunger satisfied we returned to train station to catch the train back to Florence, a three hour trip. Caught however in the rain, we sprinted into the subway like tunnel, just as the overhead lights cut out... the lightings spuratic flashing our only illumination until the train pulled through.
Sleepy, we feel asleep on the way home. Back to Florence.
This weekend brought new wonders and some of the best times i have had, a bold statement indeed! The roomates and i took a days journay to neighboring Greve, a town in the heart of Chianti, the land of the wine. Myself, emotionally exhausted and one of the roomates sick, we took a bus and rented bikes upon our arrival in the hidden town. Cruising the streets was in and of itself an adventure, trying it ourself, the defying way the Italians ride, weaving in and out of cars, trucks and bus with hesitation. When Steph and I saw the tattered sign indicating the castle at the top of the hill, we knew what we would spend the afternoon doing. Ditching the bikes in a vineyard on the way, we continued to climb, stopping to take in the olive grove covering the hill and to take grapes warm from the tuscan sun and vicid in juice we slowly made our way up the discouraging steep hill. Arriving however, rewarded our efforts. We stumbled through a nearly abandoned city, quiet and still. Fall leaves swirled around our feet, until they became trapped in the cracks of the old stairs or cornered between buildings, and steping on them released the familiar scent. Steph lead the two of us down a side street she had discovered, and we ended up in the middle of an enormous vineyard, sitting on the dusty ground, covered in the dirts evidence and overlooking the town on one side, rolling hills on the other and splititng the earpieces of my ipod listening to...Micheal Jacksons song..will you be there? and giggling uncontrolably at our fine fortune of being where we were. hiding in the center of a random vineyard in the middle of Italy,overlooking a gorgeous town no one knows about, the turrets of the castle peeking over, on the top of an enormous hill and sharing a bunch of grapes pulled from the vine moments before. Life is an incredible journay and if there is something i have learned..its that there is wonder around each bend (no matter what goes wrong, that you werent ready for). Part of me will always be in the vineyard…sometimes your heart splinters off, and you leave pieces along the way.
Pounding down the hill, we found our other two roomates who had insisted on biking to the town, on one speed street bikes. And 20 mile uphill journay. Now that! Was a good laugh!
Sunday brought the second of my three favorite David sculptures. Donetellos, and yes, incase I didn’t live in an incredible enough place already, I found him one block from school, just as Michelangelos is a quick walk from my apartment. For the first time in Italian history he is under restoration in the museum, and instead of pulling and hiding him away in a lab, they are doing all the work in the gallery, under the watchful and lusting eyes of the visitors. Well done, Bravi, as I wrote in the guest book.
i was exhausted thursday afternoon, and thought that i could do this last friday but thursday brought some unexpected trama in my personal life (dont worry, i wont go into it, but its fine). so, capa as it always does closed early on friday and without internet access over the wkend...well, alora eco me. tutto bene.
so, i have two wkends to brag about about now. and i suppose that is fine too. back track with me...
Two weekends ago i made the essential journay to cinque terre. Hiking from Monterosso to Vernazza left me absolutly exhausted, but clammering over uphill paths on cliffs overlook the medeterranean sea will do that. It was however, entirely breathtaking, and the company was fantastic, some of my capa favorites and i took on the hike and celebrated together our arrival in the second of the five towns, Vernazza. Once arriving amongst the clattering of the bell tower we slipped down the hills and slunk into the jovial town. Once breath was caught, each of us dove into the sea, squealing at the cold waters, and laughing in delight. Seeing the view from above however brought me a sense of dejavour that i couldnt place. That is until i realized my brother Aaron had stood in the very place just years before. The concept was rather mindblowing...
We took the train from the second town and in time constriction forged ahead to last. After taking in the town, we settled into a restaurant. Everything you hear of Italian cusine..its superiority of that of the rest of the world, is entirely true. Leaving the table, our hunger satisfied we returned to train station to catch the train back to Florence, a three hour trip. Caught however in the rain, we sprinted into the subway like tunnel, just as the overhead lights cut out... the lightings spuratic flashing our only illumination until the train pulled through.
Sleepy, we feel asleep on the way home. Back to Florence.
This weekend brought new wonders and some of the best times i have had, a bold statement indeed! The roomates and i took a days journay to neighboring Greve, a town in the heart of Chianti, the land of the wine. Myself, emotionally exhausted and one of the roomates sick, we took a bus and rented bikes upon our arrival in the hidden town. Cruising the streets was in and of itself an adventure, trying it ourself, the defying way the Italians ride, weaving in and out of cars, trucks and bus with hesitation. When Steph and I saw the tattered sign indicating the castle at the top of the hill, we knew what we would spend the afternoon doing. Ditching the bikes in a vineyard on the way, we continued to climb, stopping to take in the olive grove covering the hill and to take grapes warm from the tuscan sun and vicid in juice we slowly made our way up the discouraging steep hill. Arriving however, rewarded our efforts. We stumbled through a nearly abandoned city, quiet and still. Fall leaves swirled around our feet, until they became trapped in the cracks of the old stairs or cornered between buildings, and steping on them released the familiar scent. Steph lead the two of us down a side street she had discovered, and we ended up in the middle of an enormous vineyard, sitting on the dusty ground, covered in the dirts evidence and overlooking the town on one side, rolling hills on the other and splititng the earpieces of my ipod listening to...Micheal Jacksons song..will you be there? and giggling uncontrolably at our fine fortune of being where we were. hiding in the center of a random vineyard in the middle of Italy,overlooking a gorgeous town no one knows about, the turrets of the castle peeking over, on the top of an enormous hill and sharing a bunch of grapes pulled from the vine moments before. Life is an incredible journay and if there is something i have learned..its that there is wonder around each bend (no matter what goes wrong, that you werent ready for). Part of me will always be in the vineyard…sometimes your heart splinters off, and you leave pieces along the way.
Pounding down the hill, we found our other two roomates who had insisted on biking to the town, on one speed street bikes. And 20 mile uphill journay. Now that! Was a good laugh!
Sunday brought the second of my three favorite David sculptures. Donetellos, and yes, incase I didn’t live in an incredible enough place already, I found him one block from school, just as Michelangelos is a quick walk from my apartment. For the first time in Italian history he is under restoration in the museum, and instead of pulling and hiding him away in a lab, they are doing all the work in the gallery, under the watchful and lusting eyes of the visitors. Well done, Bravi, as I wrote in the guest book.
i have said it before (10.05.07)
here we are again. another week has passed, and my prediction has proved accurate. this past week flew even more rapidly then the last, and i fear that soon it will all escalate into unstopable momentum that will land me in the second week of december before i am ready.
But i can do to remedey that fear by taking each day for what i can and ensuring that i am doing what i want to, regardless of what others spend their time with. I learned strongly the value of this last Sunday, but more on that later.
The CAPA group is close knit. As one that has always attended large schools I am slowing becoming acustom to. Each week there are invitations for everyone to come to varying apt. and to share meals, or met for drinks. Thursday, was particularily fun, as we all gathered in the basment of some of the guys place for "Mexican night" and all devoured the much appreciated break from pasta.
I will also report, i finally drank my first italian espresso. Being late in the mornings kept me from stopping in a shop sooner for some, but eventually i found my way in one. And as much i would like to deny it, after a month from any coffee, the moment the espresso hit my lips was akin to the relief of a swimmer surfacing for air (heheheh)
I would also like to add, that once in awhile on the way to our destination to sketch, my drawing class stops at various famous gelato shops our instructor points out, and we use "class time" to buy and eat ice cream.
This past wkend was very full. On Saturday the whole of capa loaded into a bus and drove to both San Gimignano and our rival town, Siena. We heard the tale of the black cock and his crowing that alerted our knight to claim land for florence, we curved through the countryside and sleepy eyed fell out of the bus into a place meant for other things. other lives, other times. San Gimignano. The black plauge plummeted its population and slashed it in half, leaving the entire town at a near standstill when nearby Florence rose in the high rennasiance. Clattering over the streets and up the hill to the top of the old wall we looked over the countryside. At the end of a few hours we met again at the bus and continued to Siena. Splitting into smaller subgroups we were conjoined with tour guides and found our way through churchs greedily clutching relics of saints past, and humbled under ceilings ornate and thick with the baroque. The dome of Siena was halted when the plauge creeped its way into the city, and the conquring size it had dreampt of over the cathedral of my own city had to be sacrified. None the less, it is a sight to behold. im going to with hold any attept of describing the inside of the cathedral, because i will only fail. Imagine as strongly as you can, as wildly and as free...and you might glimpse it.
The trip was wonderful. The effect of having something planned for you and taken care of can not be underestimated, and when both of those things were the case for the wkend excursion it made the trip that much more relaxing. Despite the raining dreary weather, it was a wonderful time.
That evening upon returning to Florence, my roomates got on a midnight train to Germany to take part in Oktoberfest. With them gone the next morning, I took an oppurtunity that everyone else in the entirety of CAPA ignored. A nearby town, Impruneta was holding a harvest festival. Early that morning i woke, packed my bag for the day and managed my way through a bus station and got a lone ticket to the town. Once arriving i followed the slow and sproatic current of people to the center of town, where in the park vendors of all assortments were gathered. Gapping at the food and wine i meandered through the park for the whole of the morning, and eventually settled down in the shade for a lunch i had packed from my bag, accompanied by a few things i sampled from the vendors.
Later, at 3pm, the reason we all came began. With thundering applause, overpowering the loud music from the speakers, the neighborhood of San Marie, in time followed by 3 others took turns in the square and through the aisle leading to it. Hundreds of performers, in elaborate custums channeled through. More than just parading their attire, the floats that towers above us sung the tale of a plentiful harvest as even their gigantic size was no match for the amount of grapes used to handcover their surfaces. The members of each neighborhood wore different costomes to exclaim their tales through well learned dances. The afternoon was a progression of dance and movement and awe as each costume was more lovely then the last and each story more riviting as it was told through music and movement. Ships towering the people below, men blowing fire, exploding canons, and well rehearsed performers circled the spectators and spun the mind. Each neighborhood took around twenty minutes hypontizing the crowd with their magic, and by the time i left, it all felt like a beautiful, colorful, fanciful dream. The pride in the eys of those performing, along with the bold music and attire left a dramatic yet poetic sting in the air.
I left the crowd as the last of the ending neighborhood took stage. The last bus was leaving for the afternoon and had i stayed, i would have been stuck until much into the night. The entire day was just a few euros and it just goes to show that the world is full of wonder. Your only requirment is to keep your ears and eyes open to it.
On wed. morning, soon after i had written an email to my family proclaiming that while my roomates were sick i was not, i woke with a sore throat. determined to shake it before it got any worse, i spent my time making and eating soup, drinking tons of water and sleeping, along with a steady dose of vitamin c tablets. As of right now, friday night, i am feeling very well, the ghostly traces of the cold lingering just a bit.
Tomorrow morning, (I'm sure) i will be the driving force behind my roommates as we head to the Cinque Terre. (they insist on going out all the time and buying overpriced beers, of what interest i am unable yet to aquire, living in Italy, yet spending money so often on that???). I am looking forward to scampering about and am hoping the force of the tourist has lessend, although the weather is still warm and sunny.
I apologize for this note's tardiness, as Thursday afternoon came and went and i was too exhausted to compose it then. -corrie
But i can do to remedey that fear by taking each day for what i can and ensuring that i am doing what i want to, regardless of what others spend their time with. I learned strongly the value of this last Sunday, but more on that later.
The CAPA group is close knit. As one that has always attended large schools I am slowing becoming acustom to. Each week there are invitations for everyone to come to varying apt. and to share meals, or met for drinks. Thursday, was particularily fun, as we all gathered in the basment of some of the guys place for "Mexican night" and all devoured the much appreciated break from pasta.
I will also report, i finally drank my first italian espresso. Being late in the mornings kept me from stopping in a shop sooner for some, but eventually i found my way in one. And as much i would like to deny it, after a month from any coffee, the moment the espresso hit my lips was akin to the relief of a swimmer surfacing for air (heheheh)
I would also like to add, that once in awhile on the way to our destination to sketch, my drawing class stops at various famous gelato shops our instructor points out, and we use "class time" to buy and eat ice cream.
This past wkend was very full. On Saturday the whole of capa loaded into a bus and drove to both San Gimignano and our rival town, Siena. We heard the tale of the black cock and his crowing that alerted our knight to claim land for florence, we curved through the countryside and sleepy eyed fell out of the bus into a place meant for other things. other lives, other times. San Gimignano. The black plauge plummeted its population and slashed it in half, leaving the entire town at a near standstill when nearby Florence rose in the high rennasiance. Clattering over the streets and up the hill to the top of the old wall we looked over the countryside. At the end of a few hours we met again at the bus and continued to Siena. Splitting into smaller subgroups we were conjoined with tour guides and found our way through churchs greedily clutching relics of saints past, and humbled under ceilings ornate and thick with the baroque. The dome of Siena was halted when the plauge creeped its way into the city, and the conquring size it had dreampt of over the cathedral of my own city had to be sacrified. None the less, it is a sight to behold. im going to with hold any attept of describing the inside of the cathedral, because i will only fail. Imagine as strongly as you can, as wildly and as free...and you might glimpse it.
The trip was wonderful. The effect of having something planned for you and taken care of can not be underestimated, and when both of those things were the case for the wkend excursion it made the trip that much more relaxing. Despite the raining dreary weather, it was a wonderful time.
That evening upon returning to Florence, my roomates got on a midnight train to Germany to take part in Oktoberfest. With them gone the next morning, I took an oppurtunity that everyone else in the entirety of CAPA ignored. A nearby town, Impruneta was holding a harvest festival. Early that morning i woke, packed my bag for the day and managed my way through a bus station and got a lone ticket to the town. Once arriving i followed the slow and sproatic current of people to the center of town, where in the park vendors of all assortments were gathered. Gapping at the food and wine i meandered through the park for the whole of the morning, and eventually settled down in the shade for a lunch i had packed from my bag, accompanied by a few things i sampled from the vendors.
Later, at 3pm, the reason we all came began. With thundering applause, overpowering the loud music from the speakers, the neighborhood of San Marie, in time followed by 3 others took turns in the square and through the aisle leading to it. Hundreds of performers, in elaborate custums channeled through. More than just parading their attire, the floats that towers above us sung the tale of a plentiful harvest as even their gigantic size was no match for the amount of grapes used to handcover their surfaces. The members of each neighborhood wore different costomes to exclaim their tales through well learned dances. The afternoon was a progression of dance and movement and awe as each costume was more lovely then the last and each story more riviting as it was told through music and movement. Ships towering the people below, men blowing fire, exploding canons, and well rehearsed performers circled the spectators and spun the mind. Each neighborhood took around twenty minutes hypontizing the crowd with their magic, and by the time i left, it all felt like a beautiful, colorful, fanciful dream. The pride in the eys of those performing, along with the bold music and attire left a dramatic yet poetic sting in the air.
I left the crowd as the last of the ending neighborhood took stage. The last bus was leaving for the afternoon and had i stayed, i would have been stuck until much into the night. The entire day was just a few euros and it just goes to show that the world is full of wonder. Your only requirment is to keep your ears and eyes open to it.
On wed. morning, soon after i had written an email to my family proclaiming that while my roomates were sick i was not, i woke with a sore throat. determined to shake it before it got any worse, i spent my time making and eating soup, drinking tons of water and sleeping, along with a steady dose of vitamin c tablets. As of right now, friday night, i am feeling very well, the ghostly traces of the cold lingering just a bit.
Tomorrow morning, (I'm sure) i will be the driving force behind my roommates as we head to the Cinque Terre. (they insist on going out all the time and buying overpriced beers, of what interest i am unable yet to aquire, living in Italy, yet spending money so often on that???). I am looking forward to scampering about and am hoping the force of the tourist has lessend, although the weather is still warm and sunny.
I apologize for this note's tardiness, as Thursday afternoon came and went and i was too exhausted to compose it then. -corrie
like a ton of bricks (9.28.07)
it usually hits me like a ton of bricks. how much i absolutly adore you. seriously, when myself and others get to talking, and it vears towards friends and home i just get this smile, that begins slowly until i am beaming in light of thinking of you.
when i read your letter on the plane (that seems soo long ago) i both cried and laughed.
so, just so you know...you are just the best. -corrie
ps. and i am pretty sure that our souls are indeed on the buddy system, because mine is now going to remain in part, here forever.
when i read your letter on the plane (that seems soo long ago) i both cried and laughed.
so, just so you know...you are just the best. -corrie
ps. and i am pretty sure that our souls are indeed on the buddy system, because mine is now going to remain in part, here forever.
another few days (9.27.07)
ciao everyone,
these weekly updates are getting harder and harder to write, mainly because the lapsed time in between is not that long, but the things that have occured during it is tremendous. since last i wrote i have been down to southern italy, the amalfi coast, on the shores of the mediterranian, the island of capri and the ruins of pompei, plus another full week of class and general life here, which always brings surprises.
lets see...where do i begin? last friday i took off from florence on a train to rome, from there we got another train to naples. once in naples (and by the way, naples is a very rundown area..and still in present day controlled greatly by the mafia) we got a subway to sorento, a gorgous town overlooking the coast. as we sailed by on the rail, we would emerge appruptly from grungy dark tunnels only to peek out onto stunning coastal scenes of the sea, and then plummete back into the murk. after tramping around sorento for awhile we got on a citi bus which took us up the cliffs to the hostel where we stayed. the place was up on a hill, a short walk from the edge of the sea, where we spent the evening, carving the coast and looking over the moonlight water, wading in to depths as deep as we dared get our clothes wet.
the following morning, we stood on the edge of the precarious roads, daybags in hand, squinting in the sun awating the bus to take us back down the mountain. its arrival was meet with mixed sentiments. as you can imagine, a full sized bus, on less then full sized roads, full of 180degree switchbacks brings different people to differnet conclusions. i happened to like it. on the way down, locals flagged the bus down as we careened through tiny villages nested in the land, elderly citizens waving the bus past and bickering about fruit prices.
Arriving in sorento we climbed down to the water and found a ferry to capri, where we planned to spend the day. Capri is and island, small and rocky, the building huddle at the bottom, and only the braver of them hang to the sides of the hill. we took a tour around the island on a much smaller ferry boat which brought us around to the famous caves and gave a sense of its history and pride through the broken english of the guide. back on shore, it was irresistable to head straight and determined to the sandy beaches we had seen from our vantage on the water. like postcards of tropical lands, the water was warm and turquois and clear enough to see the bottom of the sea. the rest of the afternoon was spent streached on the beach or the large rocks like lizards, occasionaly dipping into the inviting water.
soon enough the sun began to sink in the sky and we caught a ferry back to sorento, stopped at the a grocery store for pasta to cook for dinner and took the rollarcoaster like journay back to the hostel. the evening was filled with relaxing at the restaurant and bar at the hostel...breaking for walks along the sea.
Sunday morning found us packed up and again waiting for the bus. This time we headed for the rail station and headed toward naples. on the way however we stopped and spend the day at the ruins of pompei. the biggest surprise i felt at the ancient city was just that. it was a city. in my mind, before i went there i pictured it a small village, inconsequental if not for its dramatic demiss. it is however, very large..enough to get lost, tired and confused as you navigate it. we spent about 5 hours scampering over the rocky streets and observing the unique remains. the most stricking element for me were the frescos that continue to decorate the walls, bright, detailed and vivid enough to be painted yesterday. Eventually when fatigue set in, and those with lower attention spans pleads to leave convinced the whole we boarded again the rail back to naples. with our two hour layover we ate a long delayed and highly desired dinner. back on the train, (which for any harry potter fans, was arranged with compartments and a hallway) we settled in and spent the five hour commute home (love the sound of that) to florence. We arrived early in the morning and i was walked home by a gracious capa student who despite living in the opposite direction mercifully volunteered to walk me home.
Stepping back into my apartment, if felt as if i had never left and the wkend soaking in the sun over the mediteranian and taking in famous sites and gorgeous views was some sort of half remembered reverie. Time has been flying. This past week flying by the fastest, and if thats any indication about the progression...im sure the rest of the time here is bound to soar by.
But even with trips such as this, Florence continues, like a faithful friend to surprise and delight me, slowly and surely. Yesterday, my art history class held class in an 11th century church to explore romanesque syling. As we cranned our neck to the ceilings and widened our eyes to the elaborate guilded mosaics our ears were meet, from the belly of the church with harmonious gregorian chanttings of the choir, swelling up like angels. Trips such as this, past the 14th century wall of florence to the old parts are regular commutes for this class, and similarly with another class (italian life and culture) which will bring me to the opera later this semester.
Firenze played Roma last night. i had planned to go, but miscommunication made me believe it was an afternoon game, not at night as it turned out it was. Later, as i laid in bed waiting for sleep i heard the horns of passing vespas and the screeching of satisfied fans. We tied, but roma is a esteemed force and the game was, i learned later, played well. And while my roomates loudly complained of their bellowings i smiled to myself, because while my body was inside my apartment, my sentiments were among the bousterous fans, proud of their home.
these weekly updates are getting harder and harder to write, mainly because the lapsed time in between is not that long, but the things that have occured during it is tremendous. since last i wrote i have been down to southern italy, the amalfi coast, on the shores of the mediterranian, the island of capri and the ruins of pompei, plus another full week of class and general life here, which always brings surprises.
lets see...where do i begin? last friday i took off from florence on a train to rome, from there we got another train to naples. once in naples (and by the way, naples is a very rundown area..and still in present day controlled greatly by the mafia) we got a subway to sorento, a gorgous town overlooking the coast. as we sailed by on the rail, we would emerge appruptly from grungy dark tunnels only to peek out onto stunning coastal scenes of the sea, and then plummete back into the murk. after tramping around sorento for awhile we got on a citi bus which took us up the cliffs to the hostel where we stayed. the place was up on a hill, a short walk from the edge of the sea, where we spent the evening, carving the coast and looking over the moonlight water, wading in to depths as deep as we dared get our clothes wet.
the following morning, we stood on the edge of the precarious roads, daybags in hand, squinting in the sun awating the bus to take us back down the mountain. its arrival was meet with mixed sentiments. as you can imagine, a full sized bus, on less then full sized roads, full of 180degree switchbacks brings different people to differnet conclusions. i happened to like it. on the way down, locals flagged the bus down as we careened through tiny villages nested in the land, elderly citizens waving the bus past and bickering about fruit prices.
Arriving in sorento we climbed down to the water and found a ferry to capri, where we planned to spend the day. Capri is and island, small and rocky, the building huddle at the bottom, and only the braver of them hang to the sides of the hill. we took a tour around the island on a much smaller ferry boat which brought us around to the famous caves and gave a sense of its history and pride through the broken english of the guide. back on shore, it was irresistable to head straight and determined to the sandy beaches we had seen from our vantage on the water. like postcards of tropical lands, the water was warm and turquois and clear enough to see the bottom of the sea. the rest of the afternoon was spent streached on the beach or the large rocks like lizards, occasionaly dipping into the inviting water.
soon enough the sun began to sink in the sky and we caught a ferry back to sorento, stopped at the a grocery store for pasta to cook for dinner and took the rollarcoaster like journay back to the hostel. the evening was filled with relaxing at the restaurant and bar at the hostel...breaking for walks along the sea.
Sunday morning found us packed up and again waiting for the bus. This time we headed for the rail station and headed toward naples. on the way however we stopped and spend the day at the ruins of pompei. the biggest surprise i felt at the ancient city was just that. it was a city. in my mind, before i went there i pictured it a small village, inconsequental if not for its dramatic demiss. it is however, very large..enough to get lost, tired and confused as you navigate it. we spent about 5 hours scampering over the rocky streets and observing the unique remains. the most stricking element for me were the frescos that continue to decorate the walls, bright, detailed and vivid enough to be painted yesterday. Eventually when fatigue set in, and those with lower attention spans pleads to leave convinced the whole we boarded again the rail back to naples. with our two hour layover we ate a long delayed and highly desired dinner. back on the train, (which for any harry potter fans, was arranged with compartments and a hallway) we settled in and spent the five hour commute home (love the sound of that) to florence. We arrived early in the morning and i was walked home by a gracious capa student who despite living in the opposite direction mercifully volunteered to walk me home.
Stepping back into my apartment, if felt as if i had never left and the wkend soaking in the sun over the mediteranian and taking in famous sites and gorgeous views was some sort of half remembered reverie. Time has been flying. This past week flying by the fastest, and if thats any indication about the progression...im sure the rest of the time here is bound to soar by.
But even with trips such as this, Florence continues, like a faithful friend to surprise and delight me, slowly and surely. Yesterday, my art history class held class in an 11th century church to explore romanesque syling. As we cranned our neck to the ceilings and widened our eyes to the elaborate guilded mosaics our ears were meet, from the belly of the church with harmonious gregorian chanttings of the choir, swelling up like angels. Trips such as this, past the 14th century wall of florence to the old parts are regular commutes for this class, and similarly with another class (italian life and culture) which will bring me to the opera later this semester.
Firenze played Roma last night. i had planned to go, but miscommunication made me believe it was an afternoon game, not at night as it turned out it was. Later, as i laid in bed waiting for sleep i heard the horns of passing vespas and the screeching of satisfied fans. We tied, but roma is a esteemed force and the game was, i learned later, played well. And while my roomates loudly complained of their bellowings i smiled to myself, because while my body was inside my apartment, my sentiments were among the bousterous fans, proud of their home.
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