If only everyday could be spring.

Glorious I say. Glorious. I'm wearing my chacos, and I sat out on the quad today, and I'm wearing my favorite white shirt and corduroy jacket combination. Life doesn't get much sweeter. Plus, tonight is Grey's Anatomy and the Office and as long as Meredith doesn't die I will go to bed one happy girl. Then tomorrow my mom is coming into the city, and we are going to lunch.

If only I didn't also have a 400 page book to read, three papers to write and an Arthurian Romance midterm to study for. If only.

My new obsession is Mocha. I've just come to the conclusion that American latte and cappucino don't quite compare to Italian ones, but the mocha - oooo buddy. That's one delicious concoction. I had one yesterday simply to wake me up since I was falling asleep at 10 am and still had a three hour class ahead of me, plus an engaged scholars seminar and babysitting (for the cutest kid ever). But then today I had the hugest craving for another one. I've also been craving chinese food lately, something that might just have to be cured sometime this weekend. What I'd do to have Jing Jing right outside my apartment. We had the cheapest Chinese place half a block from my apartment in Italy. I could get fried rice and chicken and bean sprouts for like 3 euro. I'll just have to settle for the five dollar China Spring by Kroger on 8th I suppose. I need to learn how to make mocha so I can make them at home. That'd be pretty wonderful - sip my mocha during Southern Lit tomorrow morning. Beats coffee. Coffee, I have decided, is gross. It's too weak and so far, all the coffee I've ever had tasted burnt. Who wants to drink a cup of watered down burnt stuff? Not me.

Second to the right and then straight on til morning.

Classes at Belmont. Long... work oriented... homeworked. Who thought of the concept of homework? is what I want to know. I want to go back to Compiti (Italian for homework). Just this week, I have a book to get read so I can write a Reception study on it, a really stupid food class to read about and for which I must complete something by the abbreviation "CP" (I don't know what it stands for and frankly don't care to find out), three chapters to read about the legend of Arthur, at least 20 line studies to do for a book series entitle, "Let's Dance," a paper to write (which I am of course doing on Italy), and then two articles and three biblical readings. Wow. Surprisingly it looks a little better when I write it out like that.

School is my best excuse for why I've been neglecting updates, though I can also blame my want of a new heading for the next chapter of the blog - not to say that living isn't an awfully big adventure when you're not in Italy, but still. The point is, I am returning to this place after being gone for quite a while, and I'm not in Italy anymore. It was good; it was perfect; but it's over.

In the words of the Wendy-bird, "We must leave at once... before we, in turn, are forgotten."

the ordinary things.

I keep trying to remember things that happened to me over the past four months and somehow the only things I can think of clearly are tiny things.

I can remember walking down my street or sitting on the steps of Santa Croce watching the sun go down. I can remember my cafe and the market. I can remember what it felt like to walk by a massive piece of renaissance architecture - the way it makes you feel like your floating. But I can't remember all these things together. The whole thing is in pieces, like it happened a long time ago. I can remember things, but I have yet to refeel them.

Coming home is a strange phenomenon.

My window now overlooks a power line and a gray brick house. I can sit here and see my neighbors walking their dogs, the mailman pull up the road, a lady with a cat. These are the ordinary things. I drive in a car. I call up my friends. I stay up until 3am talking to my roommate. I watch primetime tv and eat lean cuisine. My suitcases are stuck way back in my closet and will likely remain untouched for months. My passport is somewhere safe and out of reach. My money exists only in dollars. I have to buy all my groceries at a supermarket with an english name like kroger or harris teeter and there are aisles and aisles of preserved food with which to stock my massive refrigerator. I don't dress according to the weather, but according to where I am going. I miss Italy and wine and cappuccino.

nine countries, twenty-three trains, five hostels, and one plane in ten days

Where do I begin the story of something so overwhelming, exhausting, and utterly incredible? I, for one, don't quite know. The whole thing was just what I have said: overwhelming, exhausting, and utterly incredible. I was tired; I was ready to come home; and yet I was having the time of my life and ready to go back and live in Austria. . . or Germany. . . or Switzerland. . . or Brugge. . . or England. Not Amsterdam. Holland maybe. But not Amsterdam.

Home. Home is good. At the moment, though I'm home for sure, I still feel as if I don't live anywhere, which is how I've felt for a while, I suppose, and especially the last week living out of a backpack and sleeping on top of my passport and plane ticket. But, Christmas happened so soon after I got home (sooner than you may believe as my sister came home!!! but that meant we celebrated Christmas a day early which was the day after I got home) that I never had time to unpack and now it's already time to repack and move back to Nashville or unpack and move in here, and I don't think I want to unpack twice. Conclusion - it still hasn't hit me that Italy is in the past, and I have to go back to Belmont.

Did I really just spend the last four months in Europe??

non c'è il posto come a casa

Things I’ve learned. (a message written on 10 dicembre from my apartment).

It’s a strange place to be, to know you are standing on the edge of something great. Few times in life, at least from what I have noticed, do you know when you are about to encounter something big. I thought I knew that before I came here, but I was still unable to grasp what kind of big it truly was. Now I’m in my apartment sitting below my roommates laundry that’s hanging on an indoor clothesline she set up since the rain seems to not want to tell us it might come later in the day. And sitting here I’ve been trying to write a research paper about Brunelleschi and the Old Sacristy of San Lorenzo, which as interesting as that might sound, I’m falling asleep at the computer. So, as it usually happens my mind began to wander to life things.

Here I am sitting in my fourth floor Italian apartment underneath a clothesline of laundry, and you know what, I love it. I’ve been on the verge of about 73 emotions over the last few days. First I’m terribly homesick, next I’m overwhelmed with research papers and 20 page fictional pieces and studying for an Italian final that covers at least 15 tenses (and though 73 was a slight exaggeration, I can say with complete confidence 15 is not), and then I’m just excited that I’m about to go to seven countries in seven days, and then I want to cry because I don’t want to leave here. I honestly think I tried to not get attached to people thinking it would make it easier to leave. But then, how could I not get at least a little attached to my roommates. They’ve been so great. I mean, sure, we get frustrated with one another about dishes and groceries and how we’re always running out of toilet paper, but I’ve grown to really like them. And then there are other people like Sarah and Laura. Then, there’s my cooking class. They’ve been my fill-in family. I’m seriously dreading tomorrow night (tonight by the time I post this) when I have to go to my last cooking class because I know it’s going to be the worst goodbye ever. I will likely never see some of them again. What will I do without Duccio and Victoria on Monday nights?

[The above mentioned final cooking class has now occurred, and it was a pretty sad departure, but we had so much fun too! I will truly miss every single one of them: Duccio, Victoria, Chelsea, Jamie, Cindy, Tori. They were like family, no joke.]

It’s not just the people, this place has found a special place in my heart, but at the same time it has made me grow fonder of my roots. (that sounds pretty cliché, but frankly it’s true.) Earlier this semester Autumn sent me this song about Tennessee and it came on my ipod while I was washing the dishes earlier tonight and I think it describes really well how I feel. It’s a Mindy Smith song and I don’t know the name of it, but these are the lyrics:

“Tennessee
You’ve been good to me
Yes, I’ve come to believe
You’re where I want to be
You may not be what everybody needs
But Tennessee
You’re good enough for me
I can’t see
Stars shining in your night
Your daytime sings like Cash and Patsy Cline
They may not be what everybody needs
But they touched my soul
And that’s good enough for me
It’s been ten years now, and I’m rooted in your soil
I am rooted in your soil
Give me ten more years I’ll be rooted in your soil
Right here in your soil
You may not be
What I will always need
But I call you home
If I can call you home
Then you’re good enough for me”

Basically, I miss home. I'm ready to be home. But I'm going to miss here too. I'm not sure this was the best way to explain - and I didn't intend to have posts like this, but it seemed necessary this time.

Things I'm about to do. (a message written right now, 12 dicembre from an uncomfortable white chair at FUA.)

Okay, I know this is already superlong, but, because I have much to do before I leave Thursday evening, and don't know when I will be able to sit down this long at a computer, I wanted to post a little summary of the upcoming trip.

I leave Thursday evening at 11 from Florence (sad) on a sleeper train for Zurich. Over the ensuing seven days we will visit the following cities: Zurich, possibly Lucern, Salzburg, Munich, Stuttgart, possibly Heidelburg (or another German city), Amsterdam, Bruges, Brussels, and then London. Then I fly home on the 23rd and arrive sometime that evening, at which point I hope to be eating chocolate chip cookies and drinking purity 2% milk.

I'm going to be one tired cookie come the end of next week.

(P.S. I will most likely find computer access along the way and will try make time to post, but I apologize ahead of time if this doesn't happen.)

Ciao Ciao!!

What am I gonna do when I run out of pocket coffee?

My book project is finito and now all I have left is two papers of varying difficulties, three midterms and two critiques. Oh, and then 9 days to trek through Europe.

I have decided there is no doubt in my mind I will miss the following:

pocket coffee
Italian cappucino
people speaking in italian
the san ambrogia market
cooking class
bookbinding class
vespas
italian food (only after a significant time lapse)
the view from my apartment
feeling like my neighbors are in my apartment when we have the windows open (I don't know; perhaps I won't really miss that so much)
Piazza della Republicca
dolci
San Miniato
wine (for three months anyway)
walking everywhere
going to three hundred stores to buy my groceries
having fresh food all the time
the euro
borgo albizi
the random markets and events that appear in Santa Croce (i.e. the german christmas market)
going out for half-off gelato on tuesday night with my roommates and avoiding all our homework until it's time to go to bed
Jian Jian
being extremely tv-deprived
and more than anything (puo darsi) my favorite cafè, Enoteca de Macci

There're probably more, but at the moment I'm pretty much starving. So, I think I shall go to the german market and get me a pizza brezel before la clase.

Only 9 days left in italia.
17 left in europa.

Vin Brule almost makes up for there being no hot apple cider.

I was sad that I missed Christmas village with my mom (at least for her, she got to go with her sister, and I heard they had a splendid time,) and now, I don't even have to be sad because the German Christmas market has arrived in Piazza Santa Croce bearing treats of all kinds, including, but not limited to the following:

Bratwurst and Saurkraut (I can't spell German.)
Brezel (aka. Pretzels, which are incredible)
sausages and salamis
ornaments
gloves and hats
potpouri and candles
jewelry
befana dolls
vin brule (delicious)
dutch cheese
goolash (again, Italian I can do, German, not so much)
German and Austrian cookies
pretty much all things that smell heavenly

Apparently there's a Scottish Christmas market that opens next week in Santa Maria Novella and an ice skating rink in some piazza I don't know how to get to but will find.

Oh how I love the holidays.

Mercato San Ambrogia and the shortest lady I've ever seen

As the days pass by and I have begun to realize how little time I actually have left here I don't want to leave. (I will leave though, Dad; I miss you way too much to stay.) This has been the most incredible experience of my life thus far - hands down.

Actually one of the things I will probably miss most is having mornings exactly like this morning:

I don't have class on Tuesdays, so I slept in a bit and then got up and headed to my favorite cafè where I had a capuccino and a paste con cioccolato and wrote in my journal and read my Bible. Just so you know, for future reference, this is practically (a word my bookbinding teacher can't get enough of - and which, when she uses it, means precisely) the best way to begin a day. My favorite cafè is just 10 or so meters from the San Ambrogia market where you can buy fresh veggies and clothing articles and housewares and, if your brave, a whole dead and skinned rabbit, head and all. I didn't get a rabbit, as I'm not brave when it comes to dead creatures, but I did get some veggies and such to make dinner this evening. I browsed around the market, attempting to listen in on conversations, and then strolled down the road a bit to Bacco di Nudo, the enoteca where I get my wine, except next door they have another store that doesn't sell wine, but jams and pasta sauces and olive oil. Here is where the shortest woman in the world works. I'm not even lying. So, I walked in (actually I've met her before, but I didn't realize it then) and she gets up from her chair behind the counter and comes over to me to tell me (for she speaks English very well) about every single sauce and jelly in the store, and no joke, she comes up to my waist. She was short. Very short. She went on and on and on about each and everyone of those "prodotti tipici" that I though I would never get out of there, but I did by this Balsamic vinegar cream that she said to try in yogurt. I plan to do that this evening if I make it to the supermercato or if the bakery I usually go to sells yogurt. I'll let you know how it tastes, but the cream is spectacular. I had it on some bread for lunch.

Allora, sorry to bore you with the everyday happenings of my Tuesday morning, but I felt the need for a post and well, this is the real Italian life, not all that other travel stuff. This is the kind of thing that makes me want to stay.

"Do all turkeys have feathers or just Italian ones?"

(the above title was the cause of much laughter at borgo allegri 24 yesterday evening.)

So, I don't have time for much of a post as I have to get home to cook a turkey and pumpkin pie and stuffing and make sweet tea. My roommates and some of the girls from my cooking class are coming over this evening for traditional homecooked Thanksgiving dinner. I'm so excited, but I'm not going to lie - today is a little depressing knowing that my family is at grandma and papa's house having dinner together, eating turkey and drinking sweet tea and probably not having pumpkin pie, because that's always my job.

I hope all of you Dentons and Vaughns and Harrells and Carrolls know how much I am missing you right now! Have fun playing Catch Phrase and making Christmas lists and taking naps and scanning the shopping flyers without me, and hopefully I'll be talking to you or will have by the time you all read this. I love all of you so much!!

Buon Giorno della tacchino! (Happy Turkey Day!)

P.S. Just so there is no confusion - they don't celebrate Thanksgiving in Italy, (shocking, I know) and I had to go to class today. Boo.

I live in Italy...for 25 more days.

Man, it both seems like I've been here forever and like I've just arrived. One second I'm going crazy missing people and the next I don't want to leave. I'm sure I'll be ready to go when the time comes, but I also know I'll be ready to come back soon after getting there. I'm going to miss this place and the newness to everything. There is this refreshing feeling that comes with the unfamiliarity of life in a foreign land. I wish there were a way to recreate such a feeling in a familiar place like home. I guess that's why they say you experience reverse culture shock upon return; they also say it's worse than the original case of culture shock. I believe it.

Okay, so moving on past the inner thoughts of me:

On Saturday I went to Venice,
and
On Sunday I went to an Olive Press.

I had a supremely successful weekend.

Venice was. . . grand. Yes, that word will do; it was grand. I mean, the place has no cars. In fact, it has no streets, at least not the kind of streets we have. We (my roommate, Amber, and I) stepped out of the train station and suddenly we were standing only meters from the Grand Canal. So, we hopped a Vaporatto (which is like a bus, but it's a boat, so it's a bus/boat), and we headed down the canal to Piazza San Marco. I'm not even kidding; I've never seen a place like it. It was grand. (And here I need to put in a slight apology to one fantastic mother of mine - you would have just loved Venice. Mi dispiace.)

There's not really much else to say about Venice. We only got lost once, and Murano glass is sweet. That'll do.

The olive press was also quite grand, though intriguingly amazing might be a better description. The trip I went on actually included a two hour hike through Fiesole to get to the Olive Press, which I didn't know about, but which turned out to be pretty awesome all on its own. The rainy season is trying to actually begin, and so, from the hills of Fiesole we could see a light fog hanging over Florence. Incredible.

After a strenuous, mostly uphill, hike, we sat down for lunch at this fattoria above the olive press. I had agnello (lamb), which was delicious. The Olive Press tour would be better explained with pictures so I'll just put a link to the fotos on here once I get them uploaded, and I'll put explanations under each foto telling what the stuff is. And then, when I get home, I'll give everyone a lesson in buying good olive oil.

Fotos and Explanations.

Probably the best thing about yesterday (maybe even better than the fact that I toured an olive press) was that I spoke Italian for probably half the day. I made two foreign friends who I had the opportunity to speak to during the hike. The first was actually a girl from Germany who is working as a aupair for an Italian family. The second was a guy who lives in Florence. He was great because, though he obviously spoke fluent Italian, he spoke slowly for me and repeated himself when needed, but didn't get frustrated when it took me and minute to comprehend. Josefina and Armondo. An olive press. A nice hike on a foggy day. Un bel tramonto. The perfect Sunday.

Canolis, Volcanoes, and the Mafia

Man, where the heck do I begin? Sicily. Sicily is an island of the coast of the boot of Italy forever away from Florence. So forever away in fact, that one must ride an overnight train to get there, which means that one's first day in Sicily is spent rather smelly and unshowered and minus some bits of necessary sleep, but these things are far overrun by the fact that one is in Sicily and closer to Africa than one has ever been (unless you're Kendra Jo Crabtree that is), and therefore one does not care about being smelly and tired and one eats a delicious canoli and an arancini for lunch and then it's all okay. I'll start there.

So, this past weekend I went to Sicily. We met Thursday night at the Campo di Marte train station in Florence where we got on overnight trains with beds and sinks in your cabin/carraige/room. The train ride was in the least...interesting. I slept on the top bunk of a moving thing that rocked back and forth and occasionally made quick stops that made things tople over (including me). It wasn't so bad though, and I mean now I can say I slept on a train...twice in fact. When I woke up the next morning I washed me face in this awkward sink behind the ladder and then went into the hall to find out that I was just in time for the train to board the ferry. No joke. The train boarded the ferry at the tip of the boot of Italy and took us across to Sicily. Once the train was securely on the ferry we could actually get off and go up. Then, when we got to the other side they put the train back together and we went on our way. I want to meet the person who woke up one day and said, "why don't we just put trains of ferries and take then across the sea."

So, then we made it finally and hopped on our bus and began to see the island. The first day we visited Taormina and then this beach which I believe they said was in Catania. In Taormina we had real Sicilian Canolis! Fantastic! First thing I'm doing when I get home is making Canolis for people (well, after showering and a good night's sleep). I love canolis, which is why I'm so glad we learned how to make them in cooking class. I also ate this fried rice contraption thing called Arancini for lunch. The canoli was better, but when in Sicily you must eat Sicilian things, and I efficiently played by this rule.

The beach we went to was fantastic as well. I walked out on this getty of rocks and sat and watched the sun begin to set behing the shore. Oh my word, I am speechless.

The next day we spent the whole day walking around Siracusa. We began with Greek ruins, went through the Roman invasion, and then discovered the early Christian's hideout underground. Somewhere in all that history lesson we visited the market in Siracusa where I ate cactus fruit. (I should make a list of all the crazy things I've eaten since I've been in Italy.) Hmmm, oh and then I ate another canoli and some delicious pasta (not in that order). Then we toured the natural harbor of Siracusa, and then had hot chocolate, and I bought Crema di Fragola and some post cards.

I promise, it was much more exciting than I just made it sound. Cactus fruit is something pretty exciting all by itself, and if you'd seen the sun glistening on the water off that natural harbor you wouldn't have listened to the whole of the history lesson either (I listened to most of it, but I had to take some fotos too.)


Almost done... forse.

The last day I woke up kind of sick, which was rather unfortunate as I haven't been sick for real in so long. But, I dealt, and we went to Noto where we saw lots of men out wandering the streets looking rather mafia like wearing their traditional Sicilian hats. (There were not many woman out though, and according to our guide there is a lot of Arab influence in deep Sicily where Noto is located and therefore all the women were inside keeping house.) Then (and I just decided I hate the word then as a transition - it's so overdone). Following Noto, we adventured to another beach where I laid down in the sand in an attempt to not feel sick anymore. It only kind of worked. We tried to eat lunch down the street from the beach, but that was a disaster I don't want to relive, but luckily our bus didn't leave us, and we did get to go see the Castle near where the supposed Cyclops lived. There are even these two rocks out in the sea named after Ulysseus. We saw the sunset from here as well - positively gorgeous. Again, no words.

So, you'd think the real adventure stops here, but no. We got back onto another night train and were heading back to another giant ferry that carries trains (seriously - incredible) when our chain-smoking guide, Francesco Sommariva comes by and tells us if we look out the window we can see Mt. Etna erupting. Mt. Etna erupting. I saw a live volcano. Really all you could see was pink streaks in the sky, which was molten lava flowing down the mountain, but it was so amazing. I attempted to take a picture and it only kind of worked because we were on a moving train, and it was pitch black outside other than streets lights and the pink streaks in the sky, but anywho.


Eventually we made it back to Florence, and after I slept for many many hours last night, I don't feel sick anymore and have to register in an hour.

And, that was my adventure to Sicily.

I also went Olive Picking last Thursday which I don't feel like writing about right now, but I will give more substantial time to at a later date - perhaps after I go to the olive press which may happen this Sunday.

List of things I did this weekend I'd never done before looks like this:
1. went olive picking
2. ate cactus fruit
3. rode a night train
4. rode a train on ferry
5. got really really close to Africa
6. stood in the Mediterranean Sea
7. ate take-away mussels (not a good idea, ever)
8. saw an active volcano

Why Don't They Have Cheddar Cheese In Italy?

Lately I've been realizing some of the things I miss from the states... so, I've decided to compile a list. Probably not exactly the best thing to make me miss them less, but at least you can now appreciate the following things a little more knowing some people (i.e. me) live without them on a daily basis.

Cheddar Cheese
SVU and tv in English in general
Target and supermarkets that are really super
Milk that tastes good by itself
Sheep blankets
My car
Grass
Microwaves
Frozen Chicken
Dryers
The smell of fresh laundry
To Go Cups
Self Check out lines
Stars
Mexican Food
The US Dollar
Carpet
Peppermint Hot Chocolate from Bongo Java
Small White Monkeys
Card games
Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough
My mom's cooking
Haircuts
Sweet Tea
The South

...and next time I'm in a similar mood I'll compile a list of things I shall miss about here when I am there.

Just Follow the Duck

So, tonight as I was walking home I saw this lady carrying an umbrella with a duck handle; she was holding it up in the air to lead her tour group, and I had the urge to follow the duck, but I refrained and instead ran home so my toes wouldn't freeze into ice cubes.

I think the temperature dropped at least 15 degrees celsius just in the last three days. I'm not even lying. I haven't warmed up since it first got cold, but last night I did discover how to turn on the heat in my apartment, and then I curled up under the covers and slept all warm and cozy. So, I suppose I have warmed up...once...last night.

Perhaps you are wondering what was the reason I braved the cold this evening and almost lost my toes. Well, it was a pretty darn good reason. Today, 4 novembre 2006 is the 40th anniversary of the flood in Florence, and during a quick read of The Florentine I discovered that this evening at 19:00 they were going to illuminate the Arno River at Ponte Vecchio. So, I went, cameras in gloved hands, wearing two pairs of socks and four layers.


Aside from the frigid temperatures the days lately have been just about perfect. Not even in terms of weather, but also in terms of my lazy activity. Wednesday we had no class, and I thought I was going to get to go olive picking, but alas, the olives just weren't ripe. So, I slept in and went to my cafe instead. Then I decided to go walking leisurely about the city. I came to the San Lorenzo market and browsed the many stalls (since they were actually open) and ended up buying a hat. The people selling them were really nice, and I ended up having a conversation with an American lady who knew the guy who makes the hats. Then this other lady who was working at the stall too started helping me pick out the hat. It was just an adventure of sorts walking through the market on a cold afternoon buying a brown fuzzy hat.

I wore the brown fuzzy hat yesterday morning on the way to Lucca until the sun had been up long enough that I didn't need it anymore. Lucca I liked...about as much as I like the brown fuzzy hat. It's a small town in Tuscany an hour and a half from Florence with its city wall still intact. There's even a moat. (And apparently a comics and games festival the first weekend of November). Just so you know, I crossed the moat, and I biked the entire city wall. And to top it off, my bike had a bell that sounded like the bell on a mailman bike. I'm not sure I've actually ever seen a mailman bike, but if I did, I'm sure the bell on it would sound exactly like the one on the bike I rode around the city wall of Lucca.

We finished the day out by eating bucceleta (I think that's what it was called) and drinking cioccolata calda. Then we rode the train home, and I bought soup at the Standa and watched the Office with Laura.

I have no complaints, not even about the cold, because I have a blue pashmina and a brown fuzzy hat, and now I know how to turn on the heat in my apartment.

Positively splendid.

My Parents Left me in Europe

So, midterm week actually ended over a week ago, but as soon as they were finished my parents came into town!!! That's my sad excuse as to why I have left no REAL post in about two weeks.

Sadly, now it is just me again chillin' in Florence as my parents left this morning to return to the U. S. of A. I know they were probably ready to be back, but we had a wonderful time, and I loved having them here for a little while. We saw Florence (in fact I think I saw some of Florence for the first time - it's different being a tourist), and then we went to Rome for two days and Cinque Terre for two days and then Florence again, and we finished with a nice lunch in Chianti. I hope they enjoyed Italy as much as I have since August.

Pictures of Florence Day 1 (post jetlag)

Have you ever seen the Colosseum? Well you should because it's awesome. I think it was actually bigger than I imagined. We took a guided tour through that and the Roman Ruins on our second day of Rome. On the first we saw the pope. Yep, that's right, the pope. On Sundays at noon he comes out to bless the crowd and we were in the crowd. It was so cool, especially when I understood some of his little mini-sermon which was in Italian. He did greet everyone about 7 times in a different language each time. I'm not catholic, but it was still quite an experience. That same day we saw St. Peter's Basilica which was also beautiful. There was some sort of Parade/Spanish Mass going on while we were in there, but it almost just added to it. They were singing in Spanish and these priests came down while we were slowly walking around checking out the statues and the high altar and the dome. We also saw the alleged tomb of St. Peter (the first pope) and John Paul II. I also mailed myself a post card from the Vatican - now how many people have something postmarked "Vatican City." Well, I do as soon as it gets to me. Not to brag or anything.

I Saw the Pope.

After Rome we returned to Florence, but only to catch another train the following day to Cinque Terre. I'd been before, but it was raining. And I'm not going to lie, I was a little disheartened when the morning we left was looking a little cloudy, but it cleared up in no time, and I finally got to see the five little cliff side towns in the sunlight instead of in the gloom. Going to Cinque Terre was also a nice relief from the hectic travel of seeing things in Rome and Florence. We hiked and ate crepes and road trains and stared astonishingly at the sea. It was wonderful.

Absolutely Stunning.

We finished off with another more relaxing day in Florence. We started by returning to the Central Market and then visiting the Boboli Gardens which I'm sad I hadn't ventured to before as they are also beautiful and quite relaxing. Then we headed up the hill to Piazzale Michelangelo and San Miniato for the fantastic views over Florence. When we got to San Miniato there were either priests or monks chanting or singing inside and we sat on a pew for a little while and listened. (I still say they were chanting monks, but I'm not sure the dilemma will ever be solved.) Then, oddly enough someone decided to turn San Miniato Pink for a night. They had these giant pink stage lights set up and as it started to get dark they turned them on and the whole facade of San Miniato turned Pink. If nothing else I got to take some good photos. My mom and I decided that San Miniato thought they weren't getting enought visitors and the whole show was a crazy marketing scheme as you could see the church that is typically hidden in the dark, clearly from the other side of the river.

The Pink Church.

On our final day, we turned the pace down even more and took a bus to Chianti where I went only a few weeks ago and did a tour of the wine cellar and the vineyard and whatnot and then had that amazing five-course meal again. I have to say, I think it was better the second time, but just as filling. I may even ride that bus out there again, just to go through the countryside and see all the fall colors again. It is getting so gorgeous when you actually see trees.

Florence needs more trees.

I shall try not to go so long again without a good post, but as you can see, it was only in an effort to have a number of big adventures to share. Everyone say hello to the fall for me and enjoy the trees.

And since I'm way behind:

I made Octopus and Chocolate Cake.

Troppe Cose Fare - Too Much To Do

Apparently Italians take midterms too, or at least Americans in Italy have to.

I still have so much to do, including, but not limited to the following:

finish my book for bookbinding
study for my architecture exam
print out my pieces for writing
take (and possibly study for) my Italian exam
finish buying a few things to send home with my parents
pack for next week
go to the Boboli Gardens (just cause I feel I should)
sleep so I don't get sick from this sudden surge of cold weather
anxiously await the arrival of my parents

So, I would leave a more lengthy post with more interesting detail about things such as the beauty of going to Chianti and eating five course meals or making Octopus in cooking class, but these stories will have to wait until the above list is a little shorter.

Alla volta prossima, Jessica

I want to live on a Ferry

No, really - I do. (beware - there are plenty)

So, the sun rises in Florence beginning just before seven in the morning. I discovered this Friday morning while sitting in the train station wondering whether or not they were kidding about how serious it was that we arrive at 6 since it was approaching seven and we hadn't moved from the meeting spot. Fortunately we did finally get on a bus and pull out of Florence for Amalfi, but it wouldn't be Italy if we didn't make about 300 stops along the way including two unexplanable ones, where we all sat on the bus and watched our chain smoking guide from Cinque Terre take a smoke break. Honestly, I think at least one of those stops was specifically for that.

I think I sound cynical, but really, it was just funny. Italians are rarely rushed. So, we then stopped in Naples too, just to see the sea and let a few people get their wallets stolen. Seriously, that place is sketchy. We hadn't been out of the bus for two minutes and someone had already gotten pickpocketed. Thankfully, it wasn't me, but I still felt really bad for the girl. At least, now I can say I went to Napoli, but I don't think I'd ever return.

The Amalfi Coast, on the otherhand, was splendid. I don't know that I have ever seen water so blue and skies so clear. Being outside the city and near the sea was completely refreshing. We drove up and onto these winding roads and suddenly we were overlooking the most beautiful sea. We drove along there for 30 minutes or more (probably more) and I just sat and stared at the sea. I stared partly because it was so gorgeous and partly because I had to do something to keep my mind off of the thought that our bus wasn't going to make it around the next winding turn. Scary. But we made it.

The next day was filled with ferry rides and chillin' in Capri. I love ferries I decided. They are fantastic. The breeze, the scenery. I think I could've gone all the way there just to ride the ferry around the island, to and from little coastal towns. Actually, on our way to Capri that morning, the ferry made a pick-up at Positano, which is another town in Under the Tuscan Sun. I mean, Capri was great, Amalfi was great that evening (I bought limoncello), but the ferry I loved. I know that sounds insane, but it was relaxing and beautiful out there, and it was great to just be able to rest and enjoy.

So, then Sunday we went to Pompeii. We had a crazy guide. She was hilarious. She kept referring to us as "you who stay in Florence." It was great. And more importantly, I got to see the city that I always heard so much about from Mrs. Clark-Brown. My High School Latin Class came to life before my eyes in the form of columns and volcanic rock. Crazy.

Last night I made Foccacia Bread.

I made Pasta on a guitar.

I'm not kidding. We made Maccheroni alla Chitarra; that's macceroni on a guitar. It wasn't your normal, everyday looking guitar, and it is unlikely that it would play any sort of beautiful music, but still, it's the principle of the thing. It was also delicious - the pasta, not the guitar.

The fact that I made Pasta from scratch is all that matters here.

Once Upon a Time a Monk and Two Nuns Had Lunch at a Cafe in Assisi

So, I decided shortly after arriving that one of my goals while I was here should be to get a picture of a nun or a monk, so when we sat down to lunch at a cafe outside of the Basilica di San Francesco right across from a monk and two nuns I decided to be brave and accomplish my goals. I mean, seriously, how often do you find the opportunity to take a picture of a monk and two nuns eating gelato? Actually, I've made a few random nun friends in the last few days, and Amber even said she saw a monk staring at me while we were in Assisi, but I don't know how I feel about that last one. One of the nun friends was this cute little nun from India that we sat with on the train to Perugia the first day of our little weekend adventure. She was nice and told us when to get off the train - always helpful.

Alright enough with monks and nuns - now on to the adventure gone awry - very awry in fact, and then the adventure amazingissimo (that's not really an italian word; I made it up).

Friday we went to Perugia. We didn't see much of Perugia. We mostly saw this really giant hill that we walked up though we should have ridden a bus, but seeing how I didn't understand the lady at the bus ticket window, I didn't know that. Fear not though, because my Italian skills increased tenfold on Friday. After walking halfway up the hill, we decided that a little espresso would hopefully bring the smiles back to our faces so we stopped at a bar where we put down our very heavy bags and asked the kind guy who made our caffè how to get to the bus station. I should actually say, I asked and attempted to figure out what he was saying. I did understand him mostly, and we continued on toward our destination. We finally got to the bus station and caught a bus to our hostel on this lake. The hostel at least was beautiful, but a little bit out of the way. A lot bit out of the way, and fortunately for Amber and I, the train only stops in the town where our hostel was like two times a day. Thankfully, we didn't know that until we got there and needed to get back to Perugia to catch another bus to La Perugina (the chocolate factory). Yeah (huge amounts of sarcasm)...so we got a ride from the owner of the hostel who drove us quickly through the countryside to catch a train in Magione instead of Torricella. The rest of the day went by fairly well, except that we had to call the owner of the hostel one last time because we read the train schedule wrong so we had him pick us up at Magione.

We were unhappy people waiting at the train station at the end of that day, but we had chocolate.

Assisi went much better. We checked the train timetables as soon as we got back to the hostel from Perugia and caught the 9 o'clock on Saturday morning out of Torricella to Assisi; then we caught the shuttle bus that took us the 4 km into the City Center where all the beautifulness was. We landed at about 10:45 in the city, and I got a much needed Caffèlatte and dolce before we headed into the Basilica di San Francesco (the church of Saint Francis). That place was beautiful. I had studied it a little in my architecture class, but seeing it... incredible. I wish I could have taken fotos of the inside, but it was not permitted. Most of the churches here are these giant open cathedrals with giant columns. They are all very grand and decorated and beautiful, but something about this one, with its long nave and lack of aisles was more richly spiritual. I can't explain it, but I bought a book of Saint Francis' writings, and what I have read about his life so far is pretty amazing.

After spending the whole morning in the church, we stopped for lunch and then headed up the hill, mosying in and out of shops and seeing this beautiful old city. My only regret was that we walked so long and so slowly up this hill, just enjoying the day, that we never made it all the way to the Basilica di Santa Chiara (Francis' girlfriend). I hear it is also a sight to behold. Perhaps I will just have to return to Assisi. I did see a gorgeous sunset though on our powerwalk down the hill to catch the bus.

Absolutely Amazing.

... just a little more.

Calcio. Soccer.

Today, I went to a Soccer Game - Fiorentina (Florence's Team) v. Catania. We won. Italians are very much into their soccer. The whole place was filled with Purple and singing and chanting and excitement. I'm amazed daily at all the things I've done here - the figuring out transportation schedules, the speaking Italian all over the place, the going to a soccer game and jumping up with a bunch of smelly men chanting things I don't understand, the drinking caffè, the monumental amounts of walking. I also just noticed that two of my MUST DOS from the long ago posts have been completed: hike Cinque Terre and Visit Santa Croce. I've done both of those, and two weekends from now I'm going to Chianti!

Now, I just need to find a hat shop that sells hats in hat boxes...

I love the Tuscan Countryside

Really.

This weekend I ventured to Cortona and Arezzo with SAI for the much anticipated Tuscan Movie Tour. Imagine watching a movie, looking out the window, then looking back at the tv and seeing the exact same scene that is outside the bus window. That's what I did this weekend in a nutshell.

We began by going to Cortona where Under the Tuscan Sun was filmed. First of all, I love that movie. Second of all, I walked on the land that it takes two oxen two days to plow. No joke - we were driving up this hill and around these really curvy curves in a giant charter bus (I was a little afraid we were going to hit either an ancient wall lining the road or a mophed parked along the side of the road; fortunately we hit neither.) and watching the scene where Paolo and Chiara are getting married. There is a shot of a church on the side of a hill. We passed that church and then moments later watched that scene.

The town was quite wonderful as well - small and quaint as all Tuscan towns should be. We toured through some churches there, ate a quick lunch, then hiked down the road to 'the villa.' 'The villa' in fact where the movie was actually filmed. I think the best part of all may have been that though we were with this tour guide from Florenc for Fun, and it was an organized outing with 70 or so students, we actually snuck onto the property. This was just the type of activity Sarah Rumsey would have loved - trespassing.

After Cortona we hopped back on the bus and began watching La Vita è Bella as we travelled to Arezzo. To get into Arezzo though, we actually had to ride a bunch of escalators up a hill and through the city wall. It felt as though we were in an underground train station or subway, and then suddenly we walked through these modern automatic doors and onto a stone road standing in front of a 12th century church. After that it didn't feel at all modern anymore, and there were no more escalators. Around a few corners from the church we walked into the piazza where some of the scenes for the movie were shot. Actually a similar thing happened when we got back on the bus in that the very next scene to appear was in that very piazza. I bought candy and foccacia bread in Arezzo.

Then I watched the sunset over the Tuscan countryside as we drove back to Florence with the end of La Vita è Bella playing on the television.

I like Italy. I enjoy travelling around, but just as much as I like Italy, I like Florence. I like that I live in Florence. I'm not a tourist in Florence or just passing through, I live here. I like waking up and going to my favorite cafè and shopping for fresh things and sweaters at the San Ambrogia Market. I like drinking caffèlatte with a dolce filled with nutella. I like eating il pollo and spinaci from a Salumeria. I like sitting in Piazza di Santa Croce and watching the day turn into evening and then into night. I like drinking wine with my dinner and getting stuffed on bread and olive oil. I like that the streets aren't smooth and not all the cars have four wheels (some have three). I like sketching statues and listening to street music from Loggia della Signoria. Italia. firenze. La dolce vita.

- io

Her name is Simona.

I spent a few hours at my cafè this morning journaling and reading la mia sacra bibbia and in the end discovered that my favorite little cafè worker's name is Simona. (I hope I spelled that correctly.) It's just fantastic. She smiles at me everytime I come in.

This past weekend I went to Cinque Terre which was beautiful in pretty much every respect. It did rain on us though in the afternoon, and the wind made the water choppy so we ended up not being able to take our ferry and then hiked in the rain. But that place was so beautiful, it barely mattered. I take that back - it mattered, but it was still a great trip. Besides just seeing Cinque Terre, I got to ride on a European train through the hills of Tuscany, through Pisa and then north. On our way home I looked out the window and saw clouds just sitting on the hills. It was truly a beautiful sight.

Check out the fotos, but keep in mind I think this may be one place you just have to see for yourself.

It's really beginning to feel like home here. I suppose I mean it is beginning to feel as if I live here. I have decided that there are some things I will be so excited to get to have again from home and then things from here I will miss terribly when I leave. It's strange to be missing everyone and everything from home, but at the same time absolutely loving that I'm here. I need to think on that.

Two little notes of interest:
I found the best enoteca in Florence (well, that I've seen so far). It's really close to the best cafè in Florence which works out well. They fill up the bottles of wine from big barrels and then you bring back your bottle when you finish the wine and they refill them. I bought the Chianti last time, and it was delicious. Today I bought a white wine from San Gimignano.

I bought a journal at a bookbindery. That's right, straight from the bookbindery.

-jessica

(P.S. The comments come to me now before posting, so don't freak when they don't appear immediately. I get to read them first!)