I meant to write about my wonderful trip to Palermo and Mondello with my lovely companion, Lauren, weeks ago but, alas, I got all wrapped in saying good-bye to Italia, etc and am two trips behind. So here we go.
The last weekend in November, Lauren and I flew so far south we ended up in a land form reminiscent of a soccer ball, namely Sicily. We arrived in the capital, Palermo, in the evening and it was quite an adventure finding our hostel. There were two streets with the same name and the one that the hostel was on was not the first street we found with this name. And lets just say that Palermo is not the least sketchy place you could find yourself on a dark Friday evening. FINALLY we found it, after many strange looks from locals and a few markets later. We arrived and climbed the stairs to our room which was seemingly unoccupied. We then left and scouted out dinner at a seemingly traditional Sicilian restaurant where Lauren made sure to order a Sicilian pasta specialty, something with eggplant. This restaurant was a typical experience of not knowing whether or not you had to go up to the cashier to pay or whether they would take your check at your table, after spending an acceptable Italian amount of time lounging at your dinner table. Afterwards we scouted out some typical Sicilian cannolis, which have a ricotta based filling and our scrumptious and native to this island at a fancy schmancy dessert/aperitivo place. When we arrived back to our room at our hostel we met our roommate.
"BUONANOTTE" she said in the scariest, raspiest, worst smoker voice combined with darth vader breathing ever. She continued to mumble stuff at us as Lauren and I tried not to burst out laughing until we figured out she wanted us to close the door because she was trying to sleep at 9 pm. We left very quickly because we were both terrified and trying not to laugh hysterically. Horrible. We then went out for a bit but around 3 am, when we were back and trying to sleep, this crazy woman got up, turned on the lights (there was another person in there in addition to Lauren and I, therefore turning the lights on for 3 other people) and started packing up her stuff to go. She took off her pants and did this all in white underwear, and often right in front of Lauren's bed...aka her face. This took a while. She dragged all her stuff to right outside the room, rummaged around, came back in, talked to herself in her scary voice, breathed like Darth Vader, went back into the hallway, would be gone for like 15 minutes, come back in, and do the whole thing over. Everytime someone turned off the lights when she was gone or closed the window shutter she would come in, turn the light on, and open up the window shutter. It was horrible. I thought she would never leave.
Finally she did and it was morning and around noon Lauren and I emerged from our beds and headed out and into Palermo. It was wonderfully pleasant outside, a welcome change from the Milanese chills, and we got nutella crepes for breakfast/lunch. What could be better? Then we headed to the markets. Wow, the markets. I think I could do a study on the varying degrees of merchandise and ethnic influences in the different regions of Italy and how this effects the markets. In Sicily there is a strong Indian influence that I hadn't seen before except maybe a smidgen in Bologna. It was really great and probably the best for present shopping for all you lovely girls back home. We spent a good portion of the day doing that. We also walked to the coast and stared longingly and thoughtfully at the water for a while, ate some mini Sicilian pizza (which is different from pizza in Naples, Milan, and everywhere else), had some more cannolis, walked by the super "shameful" aka nude and sexy Fontana della Vergogna, and popped into and walked the duomo (which is a medley of styles since Sicily is a land conquered by two many dictators/rulers/historical names to count).
On Sunday Lauren and I decided to take a day trip to Mondello which is a town a little bit outside Palermo on the coast. We checked out of our hostel and hopped on a bus to the town. It was very small, made up of mostly seafood restraunts, and at first quite windy and a bit chilly. We checked out the bright blue rowboats and walked past a weird mini child amusement park until the sun came out. Then we did the natural thing and plopped ourselves down on the sand, stretched out, and sometimes touched the cold, cold water. This was so great. Last weekend in November, gearing up for finals, and where were we? Lying on a beach in Sicily. After a while we figured it would be good not too miss our plane back to northern Italy and grabbed some late lunch, mid afternoon meal before getting on the bus back to Palermo so we could get to the airport. Now this is the story of how we almost got arrested. Usually, in Milan and other places in Italy, validating your bus ticket or tram ticket is an honor system kind of deal. You don't enter it into a machine in order to board like you do in Chicago. So basically its really easy to board without paying. Since Lauren and I didn't know where to buy tickets or anything, and we just needed two bus rides, we didn't buy tickets. Silly, cheap, American college students we are. Of course on our ride back from Mondello, conductors come on to check tickets. We tried to play stupid American. They just wanted to write down our passport numbers. We told them we didn't speak Italian. They insisted on a 53 euro fine for each of us. One of the street vendors who spoke English acted as a translator for us. He was actually very nice and tried to see if the conductors would let us free if we just bought the extra tickets he had from him. But the conductors insisted that this was not an okay option either, we needed to buy them before boarding. These conductors were so mean. They talked so quickly that neither Lauren nor I could make out the seperate words from the stream of Italian jumble exiting their lips. I would say "Por favore-" meaning to end with "parla lentemente" (speak slowly) but they would interrupt me with "no no blah blah no no blah blah" and hand gestures as soon as I opened my mouth. Horrible. They finally ended up escorting us off the bus, kept mentioning the "Polizia" and argued with us for a bit longer. Lauren and I were petrified. We were not going to pay 53 euro each, we were not letting them get our passport information. Luckily we were close enough to downtown Palermo that when we got off the bus, we knew where we were and how to get to the airport shuttle. We walked to the shuttle still nervous and were very happy to get on that plane out and over to Milano.
Thursday, December 9, 2010
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Auschwitz.
I feel weird writing about this. But I feel weird not writing about it, either. An experience I had not anticipated gaining.
We took the train to Oswiecim, a town about an hour and a half from Krakow. Its a town, a real town. With bakeries and street signs and homes, people walking the street with their dogs, their children, their laundry. It is silent. It is cold and it is silent and it feels heavy so just walking of the train you know something grave and something horrific and something indescribable happened there. It feels like history left it behind, like a place struggling to breathe, grasping for a sign that life really does exist here, that it is not just a "tourist" destination. It was a tense and frigid walk to the camp. I didn't know what to expect or what to think so I didn't think. I just moved my feet as fast as I could to stay warm. Dressed in boots and jeans, a long-sleeved shirt, a heavy and thick sweater, and a coat. A scarf, a hat. Dressed for winter. (Victims didn't have half the clothing I had.) Freezing cold. When we arrived, there were tour groups everywhere. Long buses blocked the view. I grabbed a coffee from the more than ironic placement of the cafeteria and we, without payment, walked through the turnstiles.
We walked onto the loose white stones, moving under our feet, and with that first footstep out and in front of the camp, it was like a foot had kicked me in the stomach. As hard as you could imagine. I stared at the tracks, at "Arbeit Macht Frei," at the brick buildings, back at the sign. Robyn took my hand and we, both teary-eyed, proceeded.
So many tour groups. So many headphones. So many people just walking through like sheep. I didn't understand that. Robyn and I could barely hold it together. How did these people just walk from brick barrack to brick barrack, from exhibit to exhibit so easily? The first exhibit that really affected me was the infamous one that is a collection of victims' belongings. The barrack that now has graying hair, pots and pans, eyeglasses, prosthetic legs and more behind glass for us to look at, to see, to remember the livelihood of the Jewish people of Europe before they were forced into this death camp. Some of the hair was still braided (I had braided my own hair the night before). Pots and pans were piled, messy and chaotic (I have only just recently learned how to cook). The room of shoes, with a narrow walkway because most of it is taken up on the left, the right, and in front of you, with piles and piles and piles and piles of shoes. Red shoes, brown shoes, sandals, boots missing soles, multi-colored shoes, childrens' shoes (I had just seen hundreds of shoes lined up next to each other the previous day in stores, the contrast nearly made me puke). Suitcases piled on suitcases piled on suitcases. Labeled with family names as if these people would maintain possession of not only the suitcase, but its contents. I saw my own name, spelled a few different ways, four or five times. I cannot even begin to describe what that feels like. It makes you cough on the phlegm in the back of your throat, it makes you point and shrug as if its no big deal, its makes you want to scream for help. It makes you remember how close this genocide really is to my own life. My own name. Chana. Hanna. Hana. Chanah. My name is Hannah.
When I saw the tallit hung up behind glass it became clear that this was an attack, not just on people, but on a faith, a history, a heritage. My faith, my history, my heritage. And I started crying again. I sat down on the bench outside this room in the hallway, between lines of people walking at an even pace from room to room, and sobbed.
We saw the jail, the "courtroom," the place victims were forced to sleep. We saw exhibits on liberation and "martyrdom" of the Jews. We went to the death wall. I imagined it pooling and stained with blood. My ears rang with gunshots. Now its a memorial of flowers, candles, even some rosaries. And stones, so many stones. Robyn and I put some in the cracks ourselves.
But I couldn't believe the amount of people laughing there, talking loudly, even in the specific areas that demand silence like the "death wall." How do you find anything to laugh about in a place like this? It made it even harder to connect the events of the camp with the land itself today. Auschwitz was much smaller than I imagined and my brain just couldn't put all the stories I had both heard and read in this place.
We went to the crematorium. The "showers" are blocked off and mostly destroyed. But we saw the ovens. At this point I was so numb, so unable to process this history, that the Nazis could do this to people, this genocide, that my eyes could barely process the information in front of them (let alone my brain capable of understanding it). I saw the smokestack. And I know that I am missing a huge part of Auschwitz by not being able to smell the stench of burning human bodies that is integral to every survivor's story.
(We didn't go to Birkenau, which I now really regret, because we wanted to try and see the Leonardo da Vinci portrait in Krakow before the museum closed. We didn't get to see the portrait. Or Birkenau.)
And when we left Robyn turned to me and said "Look, two Jews freely leaving Auschwitz."
We took the train to Oswiecim, a town about an hour and a half from Krakow. Its a town, a real town. With bakeries and street signs and homes, people walking the street with their dogs, their children, their laundry. It is silent. It is cold and it is silent and it feels heavy so just walking of the train you know something grave and something horrific and something indescribable happened there. It feels like history left it behind, like a place struggling to breathe, grasping for a sign that life really does exist here, that it is not just a "tourist" destination. It was a tense and frigid walk to the camp. I didn't know what to expect or what to think so I didn't think. I just moved my feet as fast as I could to stay warm. Dressed in boots and jeans, a long-sleeved shirt, a heavy and thick sweater, and a coat. A scarf, a hat. Dressed for winter. (Victims didn't have half the clothing I had.) Freezing cold. When we arrived, there were tour groups everywhere. Long buses blocked the view. I grabbed a coffee from the more than ironic placement of the cafeteria and we, without payment, walked through the turnstiles.
We walked onto the loose white stones, moving under our feet, and with that first footstep out and in front of the camp, it was like a foot had kicked me in the stomach. As hard as you could imagine. I stared at the tracks, at "Arbeit Macht Frei," at the brick buildings, back at the sign. Robyn took my hand and we, both teary-eyed, proceeded.
So many tour groups. So many headphones. So many people just walking through like sheep. I didn't understand that. Robyn and I could barely hold it together. How did these people just walk from brick barrack to brick barrack, from exhibit to exhibit so easily? The first exhibit that really affected me was the infamous one that is a collection of victims' belongings. The barrack that now has graying hair, pots and pans, eyeglasses, prosthetic legs and more behind glass for us to look at, to see, to remember the livelihood of the Jewish people of Europe before they were forced into this death camp. Some of the hair was still braided (I had braided my own hair the night before). Pots and pans were piled, messy and chaotic (I have only just recently learned how to cook). The room of shoes, with a narrow walkway because most of it is taken up on the left, the right, and in front of you, with piles and piles and piles and piles of shoes. Red shoes, brown shoes, sandals, boots missing soles, multi-colored shoes, childrens' shoes (I had just seen hundreds of shoes lined up next to each other the previous day in stores, the contrast nearly made me puke). Suitcases piled on suitcases piled on suitcases. Labeled with family names as if these people would maintain possession of not only the suitcase, but its contents. I saw my own name, spelled a few different ways, four or five times. I cannot even begin to describe what that feels like. It makes you cough on the phlegm in the back of your throat, it makes you point and shrug as if its no big deal, its makes you want to scream for help. It makes you remember how close this genocide really is to my own life. My own name. Chana. Hanna. Hana. Chanah. My name is Hannah.
When I saw the tallit hung up behind glass it became clear that this was an attack, not just on people, but on a faith, a history, a heritage. My faith, my history, my heritage. And I started crying again. I sat down on the bench outside this room in the hallway, between lines of people walking at an even pace from room to room, and sobbed.
We saw the jail, the "courtroom," the place victims were forced to sleep. We saw exhibits on liberation and "martyrdom" of the Jews. We went to the death wall. I imagined it pooling and stained with blood. My ears rang with gunshots. Now its a memorial of flowers, candles, even some rosaries. And stones, so many stones. Robyn and I put some in the cracks ourselves.
But I couldn't believe the amount of people laughing there, talking loudly, even in the specific areas that demand silence like the "death wall." How do you find anything to laugh about in a place like this? It made it even harder to connect the events of the camp with the land itself today. Auschwitz was much smaller than I imagined and my brain just couldn't put all the stories I had both heard and read in this place.
We went to the crematorium. The "showers" are blocked off and mostly destroyed. But we saw the ovens. At this point I was so numb, so unable to process this history, that the Nazis could do this to people, this genocide, that my eyes could barely process the information in front of them (let alone my brain capable of understanding it). I saw the smokestack. And I know that I am missing a huge part of Auschwitz by not being able to smell the stench of burning human bodies that is integral to every survivor's story.
(We didn't go to Birkenau, which I now really regret, because we wanted to try and see the Leonardo da Vinci portrait in Krakow before the museum closed. We didn't get to see the portrait. Or Birkenau.)
And when we left Robyn turned to me and said "Look, two Jews freely leaving Auschwitz."
Krakow.
Last Friday, Robyn (from UPS) and I flew my favorite airline ever (Ryanair) from rainy Milan to cold Krakow. Not knowing a word of Polish, let alone the name of the Polish currency, we magically made it from the airport to the hostel (called "Zodiac Hostel" in case you're interested in all the fun names of the places I stay) not too late in the afternoon. We then followed the green route on the map of Krakow that follows the "Jewish Heritage Tour." It started at the "new" Jewish cemetery (I think its called "new" because people are still being buried there today because it definitely had tombstones dating back hundreds of years). We walked around here for a really, really long time, winding along the gravel and stone path, through layers of dusty autumn leaves. The trees were bare, just branches sticking naked up into the sky. Bright, lush moss grew over too many tombstones. Home to snails and slugs (the hard freeze has yet to knock them out). It was probably the perfect beginning to a weekend focused on the loss of the European Jews but that didn't make it any less depressing. Tombstones for children, for families, Holocaust memorials for the 12 people in one family that had died. And, as usual, I saw my own Jewish name in Hebrew on more tombstones than I was comfortable with.
After the cemetary, we followed the green route on the map to many synagogues in the old Jewish neighborhood. But because it was Friday and Krakow gets dark VERY early , many of them were closing their tourist services for Shabbat. We walked to most of them but didn't go in many of them. Most of them were just converted into bookshops anyways. That night we walked through the covered market in the main plaza. We found Mexican food for dinner...random but us Americans are homesick for comforts like Mexican food. We had an early night Friday but randomly ran into another study-abroad UPS student at our hostel! Small world!
(Saturday we went to Auschwitz.)
Saturday, upon returning, we found a bookstore with an English section in this massive mall by the train station and we both purchased Madame Bovary for the class we have together. We went back to the hostel and met some of the other people staying there. Some Canadians, some Slovenians, and an Israeli! Chitchat, travel story exchange, some singing. You know, good ole hostel random encounters and conversation. I cuddled up in my Irish sweater from the previous weekend to combat the Polish cold and stayed toasty in the golden lit common room. Robyn and I got Kebabs and Falafel for the equivalent of 2 euro for dinner and then the hostel treated us to some lemon vodka for free!!! This hostel apparently hosts weekend events for its guests such as "vodka tasting" and then they took us out. Friendliest hostel staff I ever met.
Sunday morning Robyn and I got up early to try and see the Leonardo da Vinci portrait "Lady with Ermine" but the Krakow art museum that this portrait is in is currently closed for renovations and the portrait has been moved to Warsaw. Disappointing to say the least. So instead I got one of those pretzel bagel-esque bread products that are on every street corner (if not on all four corners of every intersection) and some coffee from the Starbucks in the mall. My obligatory I'm-out-of-Italy Starbucks run. Then we headed back to the train station, to the airport, and to rainy, rainy Milano.
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Irish Coffee+Irish Sweater=Irish Warmth, or 42 hours in Dublin
This past weekend I flew up north to Dublin to visit my friend Kristin from UPS. It was a crazy full apartment for her because her cousin and another one of her friends were also staying with her. I arrived at her apartment mid-afternoon and she greeted me with homemade oatmeal raisin cookies and veggie curry with rice. So delicious. It was then that I made a goal to not consume any Italian products until I flew back to Milano on Sunday. We ate and chitchatted, just catching up, until Kristin's cousin arrived and we went out to meet her at the bus stop. It was a really wonderful group and total crapshoot. Throwing three people who had never met each other before and Kristin into a weekend...how were we to know if we were compatible or not? Luckily we got along great. Kristin's friend had been in Europe for 8 months, first working in Berlin for 3 and then traveling some, and had just finished up WWOOFing in Ireland (where she and Kristin had met). This was definitely the kind of trip that was about the people more than exploring a place. And this was wonderful and probably just what I needed at this point in my study abroad experience. I had purchased tickets to visit Kristin during one of my most homesick weeks and this trip definitely helped me deal with some of it. Granted I have been less homesick recently but I was surrounded by people who loved traveling, loved being abroad, loved the cities/countries they were living in and were all around just really excited to have the opportunity to learn outside the classroom, absorb another culture, and live in Europe. This really helped remind me how limited my time here is and how I must take advantage of it, be really flexible, be brave, explore, and life my time in Europe to the fullest. Friday night we made dinner and discussed all these, compared experiences, stopped at a pub, and avoided as much rain as we could. The conversations from this night reminded me of how much there is in Europe to take advantage of.
Saturday we got up around 10, Kristin made delicious egg scrambles and instant coffee for breakfast and then we left around 11:30 or so and walked around. It wasn't raining yet and we walked to the Temple Bar area and went to a great farmer's market that sold asian food, curries, mexican food, salsas, crepes, meats, fish, beautiful breads, and had a plethora of samples. It was fabulous. Then we walked through this area of Dublin, past some stands of books, and over towards Trinity College campus. I had been to Trinity before when I came to Ireland with my family when I was 13 and I remembered the building the Book of Kells was in. This was super exciting because I don't remember much of Dublin from seven years ago. Here is a picture from the campus:
After this we went to a sweater shop and I fell in love with one and caved...it was on sale!!! Here I am in my new Irish sweater:
After this, it started raining so I put on my new sweater under my coat and we walked through the major shopping street to this beautiful park full of golden, brown, red, and a few green leaves. It was so great. It felt like autumn, the air had the familiar Seattle-esque mist (that totally beats Milan's constant downpour) and we wandered around the pond and through the trees.
After this we headed back to that crazy shopping street and went into this massive ritzy department store where they had a gigantic purse, probably around 10 ft tall with matching proportions. The idea was to let people go inside it and sit for a 1 minute video of the world through the eyes of a purse. The gigantic purse even jostled the passenger/viewer around a little bit as if it was going over bumps in the road, on rickety bike, or spinning around on a swing. It was a hilarious and ridiculous marketing technique. Wonderful. We were hungry and ready to get out of the rain after this so we headed back to Kristin's apartment. On our way we stopped at a grocery store to get some food to bring to a Thanksgiving dinner Kristin's friend had been invited to. At Kristin's apartment, she made us a small lunch and we made some Irish coffee as a wonderful pick-me-up and prepared vegetable to take to this Thanksgiving dinner. I forget how Kristin's friend had met these people but an American who had fallen in love with an Irish man and now lived here was hosting it on the outskirts of Dublin near the ebay headquarters of Dublin (since they worked for ebay). The dinner was a wonderfully crazy medley of Irish, Scottish, British, Canadian, German, French, and American. I love the mishmosh of culture that can come together, differing accents and lifestyles, in any small country in this small continent of Europe. The had turkey, cranberry sauce, stuffing, mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, corn, and much much more. Also pumpkin pie and apple pie!!!!! I nearly burst open...and managed to not eat or drink any Italian products!!! I met some really great people from all over, had some hilarious conversation, a round of story telling, and just a really random fabulous time. We left around 11 to go back towards Kristin's apartment. We got back a little after midnight and met up with one Kristin's friends from her program, went to a pub for a very short while, and ended up back at her apartment around 1:30. We all hung out for a bit longer until everyone passed out except me. I needed to leave her apartment at 4 am to get on a shuttle to the airport to catch a 6:30 am flight so I just stayed up all night, made some non-Irish coffee, and left at 4 am. Kristin lives on a canal (I have missed living near water SO MUCH) and I walked along it, next to the million swans gliding along, to the shuttle and sadly (very, very sadly) so goodbye to nourishing weekend and the land of the leprechauns.
Saturday we got up around 10, Kristin made delicious egg scrambles and instant coffee for breakfast and then we left around 11:30 or so and walked around. It wasn't raining yet and we walked to the Temple Bar area and went to a great farmer's market that sold asian food, curries, mexican food, salsas, crepes, meats, fish, beautiful breads, and had a plethora of samples. It was fabulous. Then we walked through this area of Dublin, past some stands of books, and over towards Trinity College campus. I had been to Trinity before when I came to Ireland with my family when I was 13 and I remembered the building the Book of Kells was in. This was super exciting because I don't remember much of Dublin from seven years ago. Here is a picture from the campus:
After this we went to a sweater shop and I fell in love with one and caved...it was on sale!!! Here I am in my new Irish sweater:
After this, it started raining so I put on my new sweater under my coat and we walked through the major shopping street to this beautiful park full of golden, brown, red, and a few green leaves. It was so great. It felt like autumn, the air had the familiar Seattle-esque mist (that totally beats Milan's constant downpour) and we wandered around the pond and through the trees.
After this we headed back to that crazy shopping street and went into this massive ritzy department store where they had a gigantic purse, probably around 10 ft tall with matching proportions. The idea was to let people go inside it and sit for a 1 minute video of the world through the eyes of a purse. The gigantic purse even jostled the passenger/viewer around a little bit as if it was going over bumps in the road, on rickety bike, or spinning around on a swing. It was a hilarious and ridiculous marketing technique. Wonderful. We were hungry and ready to get out of the rain after this so we headed back to Kristin's apartment. On our way we stopped at a grocery store to get some food to bring to a Thanksgiving dinner Kristin's friend had been invited to. At Kristin's apartment, she made us a small lunch and we made some Irish coffee as a wonderful pick-me-up and prepared vegetable to take to this Thanksgiving dinner. I forget how Kristin's friend had met these people but an American who had fallen in love with an Irish man and now lived here was hosting it on the outskirts of Dublin near the ebay headquarters of Dublin (since they worked for ebay). The dinner was a wonderfully crazy medley of Irish, Scottish, British, Canadian, German, French, and American. I love the mishmosh of culture that can come together, differing accents and lifestyles, in any small country in this small continent of Europe. The had turkey, cranberry sauce, stuffing, mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, corn, and much much more. Also pumpkin pie and apple pie!!!!! I nearly burst open...and managed to not eat or drink any Italian products!!! I met some really great people from all over, had some hilarious conversation, a round of story telling, and just a really random fabulous time. We left around 11 to go back towards Kristin's apartment. We got back a little after midnight and met up with one Kristin's friends from her program, went to a pub for a very short while, and ended up back at her apartment around 1:30. We all hung out for a bit longer until everyone passed out except me. I needed to leave her apartment at 4 am to get on a shuttle to the airport to catch a 6:30 am flight so I just stayed up all night, made some non-Irish coffee, and left at 4 am. Kristin lives on a canal (I have missed living near water SO MUCH) and I walked along it, next to the million swans gliding along, to the shuttle and sadly (very, very sadly) so goodbye to nourishing weekend and the land of the leprechauns.
Sunday, November 7, 2010
How many cities can you pop into in three days?... or bussing through the rolling hills of Tuscany
This past weekend my study abroad program (IES) took us on a trip through Tuscany. Midterms had just finished on Wednesday and Thursday morning at 8 a.m. our bus zipped out of Milan and south to Siena. The weather in Milan lately has been similar to a cold Tacoma, matching the midterm-induced stress and misery (the word "misery" being an extreme exaggeration because how can we really be all that miserable? if we have to take midterms, well, at least we are in Italy). As we continued south the sky brightened, the air was warmer (not to mention cleaner), and the rose and dropped into rolling hills. The hills and trees, crops and vineyards, were a range of reds, golds, and greens-- fitting for fall and the first weekend in November. What a perfect time of year to see this part of Italy. We arrived in Siena around 2:30 in the afternoon and, grateful to finally get our blood moving, had a short walking tour of the town. First we went into the church where St. Catherine's skull is kept. The story goes that St. Catherine was born in Siena but died in Rome and was quickly buried in Rome so that Rome could lay claim to her body. Well, Siena was none to pleased with their claim to holy fame buried in any other city. They decided to send some people to dig up her body. As they were running away with her body back to Siena, some Romans caught on to this not-so-stealthy plan and attacked them. During this process, St. Catherine's head fell off her body and, although Rome got her body back, the people from Siena took her head with them. The skull is now behind glass and very far away from the viewing area so this story is way more exciting than seeing her skull actually was. After this we walked through some of the streets of Siena to the main piazza in the this small, small city. We learned how Siena is built on three main hills and how Firenze and Siena have a rivalry originating in the middle ages and how they have horse races every year and the only year Siena won was in the 1200's...and just once (I just don't remember which year that was). Siena is still riding on this single victory, claiming this year they were in God's favor. Then we had some time to lie in the sun, eat gelato (of course), and purchase any souvenirs we wanted. This was my one opportunity to buy a "Siena" bracelet for my city-bracelet collection but it was 3 euros and I decided to see if I could find for 2 euros and come back if I couldn't...but then I never had the free time to either look for another or come back! Sad. In any case, after our sunny half hour in the piazza we went to the Duomo. The duomo in Siena is kind of small and kind of a mix of Firenze's Renaissance style and Milano's Gothic style. Then we climbed this tower next to it and soaked in an awesome view of Siena and Tuscany. Sometimes I wonder how much of what we do is treated as a photo opp and the moment that we are actually there is not really appreciated, absorbed, etc. Well, either way, it was beautiful up there. After this we walked to our hotel and our bus with all our stuff met us there. Like I mentioned before, Siena is built on three hills and I guess our hotel was in between two of them because there is this massive escalator split into four parts or so that runs all night that takes you down the hill to the street our hotel was on. Interesting, no? It was around 6 by the time we got back to our hotel and we had an hour and half before dinner to decompress/shower/unpack/relax, etc. I ended up rooming with a girl from UPS named Robyn (who I will be going to Krakow with in a couple weeks) and I find it really interesting how this study abroad trip has brought me together with other people from UPS that I wasn't friends with at school. After dinner, we went out and explored the piazza a little bit but Siena is very small and there isn't much going on in this city on a Thursday night.
Friday morning we left around 9 a.m. for Montalcino which is a very small town not too far away. We first visited a fortress which offered also some more breathtaking views of Tuscany. From up high and far away, the hills look like patches of crops or vineyards, rolling and golden and green and red and orange. A medley of beautiful fall colors arranged as if you were up in an airplane and looking down on a cloudless day. Friday we again had beautiful weather. People have started pulling out their winter coats in Milano but in Montalcino (Siena, too) I kept switching between my t-shirt and sweater during the daytime. At the fortress, there was wine tasting and local wines on sale. I did not invest in either due to my money-saving obsession...yet I still, somehow, seem to be no good at conserving money at all. Very worrisome. Anyways, after the fortress I wandered the town with Alba and Kathleen. We weaved through the street markets, found some super cheap lunch, frolicked in the sun, rested our feet next to golden vineyards, and took an ample amount of pictures of us looking cute, in front of beautiful patch-work views, and soaked in some much needed vitamin D. I felt so lucky to be there. When someone says "I'd like to retire to a villa in Tuscany" they are envisioning somewhere like Montalcino and especially envisioning it on a day like the day we had there. It was so beautiful, I couldn't believe it. I think when I first decided to study in Italy, before I picked out a program or city, I imagined myself somewhere more like Siena or somewhere with landscapes more like Tuscany. Oh well. I am still so lucky to have been able to visit this incredible region.
We left Montalcino around 2:30 in the afternoon and got back on the bus to go to the Sant' Antimo monastery in time for their Gregorian chant. This monastery was in the middle of almost nowhere amongst the beautiful hills and golden fields of Tuscany. Right next to it was an olive grove where people were harvesting. The church was from the medieval times and very, very cold on the inside. The chant was really cool, I'd never heard monks chanting before. It wasn't very long, but it was peaceful. Afterward one of the monks who had just arrived from LA talked to us about the monastery and the history of the church and the monastery and about some of the art history relating to the iconography in the church. We left Sant' Antimo to drop in, very briefly, to Pienza, or the Ideal City. I'm not really sure what about this small town makes it ideal but it was built by a pope hundreds of years ago according to his vision of "ideal." Again, we wandered through the small, cobblestone streets of a Tuscan city, stopped for an espresso shot, and took pictures of the sunset. We probably weren't here for more than an hour and finally returned the hotel, exhausted and totally drained, around 6:30 p.m.
After dinner, most everyone in the program went out to see what Siena had to offer on a Friday night. There was a live performance near the main piazza, many tents with cook-outs and wine from local wineries. At midnight they were opening the "new bottle" of wine of the season so it was big party leading up to midnight and after, as well (hence the tents of food, live performance, and tons of people in the street). It was a great night full of local wine, dancing, live music, and I even got to ride a vespa (which was one of my semester goals)! Success!!! Siena may be small but it is beautiful and much more my image of what studying in Italy would have been like. Plus, it was way warmer than Milano! And it isn't so small that it goes to sleep at 10:00 at night, even during the week.
Saturday morning we left Siena at 9:30 in the morning, with all our luggage, and drove an hour and a half to Arezzo. We had reservations to see the Piero della Francesco frescoes in one of the local churches. This was really cool and fed my art history appetite. The Student Services coordinator at IES, Walter, gave us a brief talk about the different panels and the bible stories they corresponded to. After this we wandered through the street markets. It was made up of mostly vintage items and antiques. The jewelry was absolutely beautiful but ridiculously, and very sadly, expensive (40 euro for a pair of earrings? I don't care if you say its real silver, this is a street market!). They also had relics from World War II (like a personal sized Mein Kampf, advertisements, coins, propaganda) and many beautiful glass lamps, vintage hats, and then, of course, a bunch of useless crap. I got a silk scarf for 3 euro but that was, impressively, my only purchase. We got falafel and kebabs for lunch and wandered some more. We had a bit too much time in Arezzo and most of us were pretty exhausted from all the stops the previous day so by 2:30 or so when we left, we all passed out on the bus. It took us FOREVER to get back due to traffic jams and things and the bus got really obnoxiously loud with car games and some singing. Ah well at least my ipod didn't die en route. I got back to my apartment, made myself some dinner, poured myself a glass of wine, and watched "Across the Universe" until I fell asleep.
I wanted to go out a bit today but its been pouring rain on and off all day so I haven't had the motivation or the bravery to leave the apartment. Back to classes this week, hopefully if I get any grades back from midterms they aren't too shabby. This will be my first indication of how I am doing in my classes.
Friday morning we left around 9 a.m. for Montalcino which is a very small town not too far away. We first visited a fortress which offered also some more breathtaking views of Tuscany. From up high and far away, the hills look like patches of crops or vineyards, rolling and golden and green and red and orange. A medley of beautiful fall colors arranged as if you were up in an airplane and looking down on a cloudless day. Friday we again had beautiful weather. People have started pulling out their winter coats in Milano but in Montalcino (Siena, too) I kept switching between my t-shirt and sweater during the daytime. At the fortress, there was wine tasting and local wines on sale. I did not invest in either due to my money-saving obsession...yet I still, somehow, seem to be no good at conserving money at all. Very worrisome. Anyways, after the fortress I wandered the town with Alba and Kathleen. We weaved through the street markets, found some super cheap lunch, frolicked in the sun, rested our feet next to golden vineyards, and took an ample amount of pictures of us looking cute, in front of beautiful patch-work views, and soaked in some much needed vitamin D. I felt so lucky to be there. When someone says "I'd like to retire to a villa in Tuscany" they are envisioning somewhere like Montalcino and especially envisioning it on a day like the day we had there. It was so beautiful, I couldn't believe it. I think when I first decided to study in Italy, before I picked out a program or city, I imagined myself somewhere more like Siena or somewhere with landscapes more like Tuscany. Oh well. I am still so lucky to have been able to visit this incredible region.
We left Montalcino around 2:30 in the afternoon and got back on the bus to go to the Sant' Antimo monastery in time for their Gregorian chant. This monastery was in the middle of almost nowhere amongst the beautiful hills and golden fields of Tuscany. Right next to it was an olive grove where people were harvesting. The church was from the medieval times and very, very cold on the inside. The chant was really cool, I'd never heard monks chanting before. It wasn't very long, but it was peaceful. Afterward one of the monks who had just arrived from LA talked to us about the monastery and the history of the church and the monastery and about some of the art history relating to the iconography in the church. We left Sant' Antimo to drop in, very briefly, to Pienza, or the Ideal City. I'm not really sure what about this small town makes it ideal but it was built by a pope hundreds of years ago according to his vision of "ideal." Again, we wandered through the small, cobblestone streets of a Tuscan city, stopped for an espresso shot, and took pictures of the sunset. We probably weren't here for more than an hour and finally returned the hotel, exhausted and totally drained, around 6:30 p.m.
After dinner, most everyone in the program went out to see what Siena had to offer on a Friday night. There was a live performance near the main piazza, many tents with cook-outs and wine from local wineries. At midnight they were opening the "new bottle" of wine of the season so it was big party leading up to midnight and after, as well (hence the tents of food, live performance, and tons of people in the street). It was a great night full of local wine, dancing, live music, and I even got to ride a vespa (which was one of my semester goals)! Success!!! Siena may be small but it is beautiful and much more my image of what studying in Italy would have been like. Plus, it was way warmer than Milano! And it isn't so small that it goes to sleep at 10:00 at night, even during the week.
Saturday morning we left Siena at 9:30 in the morning, with all our luggage, and drove an hour and a half to Arezzo. We had reservations to see the Piero della Francesco frescoes in one of the local churches. This was really cool and fed my art history appetite. The Student Services coordinator at IES, Walter, gave us a brief talk about the different panels and the bible stories they corresponded to. After this we wandered through the street markets. It was made up of mostly vintage items and antiques. The jewelry was absolutely beautiful but ridiculously, and very sadly, expensive (40 euro for a pair of earrings? I don't care if you say its real silver, this is a street market!). They also had relics from World War II (like a personal sized Mein Kampf, advertisements, coins, propaganda) and many beautiful glass lamps, vintage hats, and then, of course, a bunch of useless crap. I got a silk scarf for 3 euro but that was, impressively, my only purchase. We got falafel and kebabs for lunch and wandered some more. We had a bit too much time in Arezzo and most of us were pretty exhausted from all the stops the previous day so by 2:30 or so when we left, we all passed out on the bus. It took us FOREVER to get back due to traffic jams and things and the bus got really obnoxiously loud with car games and some singing. Ah well at least my ipod didn't die en route. I got back to my apartment, made myself some dinner, poured myself a glass of wine, and watched "Across the Universe" until I fell asleep.
I wanted to go out a bit today but its been pouring rain on and off all day so I haven't had the motivation or the bravery to leave the apartment. Back to classes this week, hopefully if I get any grades back from midterms they aren't too shabby. This will be my first indication of how I am doing in my classes.
Monday, November 1, 2010
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