This "travelogue" is
in reverse chronology, so the most recent entry is the first...
Browse as you wish.
3
Agosto 2008, Domenica •
August 3, 2008, Sunday •
SEATTLE, WASHINGTON
I'm back in Seattle, but my mind and heart are trying hard to hold onto their dreamy state. I pretend I'm still under the Italian sun, sitting in a back garden courtyard, eating cuttlefish with black ink sauce and sipping Prosecco.
As I finish cataloging photos from my month and a half in Italy, the total keeps rising. My latest tally is 5300 images. There was so much imagery that sparked my mind! I could have pointed the camera in any direction. (Hey! I did!)
Technical difficulties prevented web updates for the second half of the trip (my hard drive died), so I'm catching up now. There are more finishing touches to tend to, but at least there's some content to peruse.
Ahh, Italia. Ciao ciao.
Baci e abbracci.
(As I upload more stories and photos, I'll catch up on the lost entries of the last month. Check back.)
7
Luglio 2008, Martedí• July 7, 2008, Tuesday• SAN
GIOVANNI VALDARNO
What?!
A week has passed since I added here?! Really, it feels like
a month, since we've packed so much into our time. Good thing
I'm keeping a journal to make notes in. I have time to write
when on a long bus or train ride, and we've had a few of those
in the last week.
Here's the whirlwind: We had Art History lessons for an hour and a half each
last Monday, Tuesday,
Wednesday and Friday. Italian language classes were held every
day. We had a cooking lesson on Wednesday. Traveled to San Gimignano
and Monteriggioni on Tuesday, Fiesole on Thursday, Rome for Saturday
and Sunday, Pisa and Lucca today (Monday). Tomorrow (Tuesday) is
set for Siena and a chianti winery, Wednesday is planned for Florence.
We'll have a language test on Thursday, then back to Florence for
the Costume and Shoe Museums on Friday. Whew!
I am so satisfied
with this decision, both the coming to Italy and the choice of West Virginia University (WVU) and their Disegno Italia international
study program. As an individual, I could not have orchestrated
the variety and depth of experience I have now: a wonderful apartment
in San Gio; beautiful hotel in Rome; language and art history instructors
and their lessons; guided tours to important locations; a professor
guiding us in Rome with accompanying lectures; cooking class; winery
tour...
and I haven't even gotten to the Milan study portion of this trip
yet! This was worth every cent, and all the intense hard work to
make this happen.
I think...
no... I KNOW, it was also smart to add time in Cinque Terre at
the start of the trip and a couple of days in Venezia to finish
it. A very wise transition in and out of the country and the experience.
9:20 A.M.
- Depart by bus for Pisa. Two weeks already [that I've been in
Italy]! Three-and-a-half more to go. Wow. this is an incredible
intermission in my life. The imagery, the relationships, the language,
the history, the self-observation... These create a richness and
intensity that daily life at home does not have. Such a trip is
an acceleration and compression of time and experience. We can
all benefit from this on occasion in our lives. I certainly cherish
the constancy of my home-sweet-home but a trip like this interjects
a freshness that revitalizes.
As we travel
for our field trips - San Gimignano, Monteriggioni, Fiesole,
Roma, Pisa and Lucca - I get a broader view of this country,
both rural and urban. I love the chance to see the olive groves,
fields of corn and sunflowers, tall slender cypress trees and
tended fields. It's not at all uncommon to see centuries-old villas
on
high hill tops: stone work plaster/stucco and tile rooftops so
quitessential in my mind's eye image of Tuscany. And very often
we pass a stone tower or building remnant that would have quite
a story if only it could speak.
Each day that
we have a field trip, it's an "early up", a bus or train ride,
then
a day of walking in the heat until my feet are swollen, threatening
to blister and begging to be put up. We see so much in every trip,
yet hardly begin to see what's present. That's OK. It's more than
I'd see sitting at home, and just means I'll have to come back!
Below are a few entries from my
bus-ride journal from the last week:
5
Luglio 2008, Sabato• July 5, 2008, Saturday• ON
THE TRAIN TO ROME
There
are parts of all this - the city and countryside - that remind
me of Nicaragua. [I was there at age 14, in 1972, for 3 months.]
The tile rooftops and stucco. The side-by-side houses, entering
right off the patterned sidewalks. Interior courtyards. Blinds
on the windows. And there's a certain smell that's
particular to here, Nica and what I associate with foreign countries.
I
think some of it has to do with stone, stucco, concrete, tile
- all sun-heated and old. But I also catch the same smell in
the cool of the evening or in a dark passageway. But again, it's
stone and stucco.
4
Luglio 2008, Venerdí• July 4, 2008, Friday• SAN
GIOVANNI VALDARNO
I'm
having a nice dinner out alone here in San
Giovanni at Osteria Dell'Angelo, right next to the school,
on a little back alley.
I've been walking by every day and was also told it's good
food. We leave for two intense days in Rome tomorrow, and
I've been eating leftovers all week (or grocery simple foods).
Time
to treat myself. Come to Italy and eat alone in my room every
night while sitting at the computer? No! The proprietor
smiled at me as I left the school this evening. Rather than being
brusque, he seemed open. Funny to sit here in Italia having dinner
listening to "Blowing in the Wind"! How bizarre. but the Italians
probably have a fascination with American music as we do with theirs
and that from other cultures.
(Now "Hey
Jude" is playing. I'm amused... Later: "California Dreamin' " and
"Just the Two of Us")
I've been
pushing myself to order things from the menu that I haven't tried
before and don't exactly know about. So I asked the proprietor
what he recommends. Granted, this whole conversation, including
the explanation of the food, is taking place in Italian... So,
I ended up with Tagliata con rucola e parmigiano, verdure grigliate
(melanzane, zucchini, pepperoni, cipolle) and a mezza litro del
vino rosso della casa. Translated, I got a slab of
RAW meat that had been seared around just the edges, then sliced thin (much
like seared Ahi), with arugula topped by shaved parmesan cheese,
and grilled eggplant, zucchini, red peppers (pepperoni is NOT what
we think it is!) and onions. This was accompanied by the house
red wine, and ended with creme bruleé. Was I anticipating
raw meat? No.
But
I've
been
told
to
ask the
owner what his specialty is, and I'm pushing the boundaries of
what I know. I ate every last bite and went home happy. (And I
got to listen to U.S. oldies while I ate. I thought of my high
school reunion committee with each song.)
1
Luglio 2008, Martedí• July 1, 2008, Tuesday• SAN
GIOVANNI VALDARNO
It's
past 5:30 a. m. The town is quiet, just the sound of birds in
the courtyards and on rooftops, and the white noise of the fan
still on in my bedroom. I awoke about an hour ago and decided
to take advantage of the quiet, still time before the day's lessons
and field trips.
This
trip is such an example of making something what I want it to
be. It is entirely up to me to determine the character of the
experience and my response to it. (Gee. Sounds just like
life!)
I determine my pleasure or displeasure with the food, the apartment,
the heat, the classes, the people, the schedule. I could complain
as easily as I could applaud.
27
Giugno 2008, Venerdî• June 27, 2008, Friday• MONTEROSSO
AL MARE (CINQUE TERRE)
12:30 How lovely
to sit quietly on the upstairs "Lemon Garden Patio" surrounded
by trees laden with fully-ripe lemons, birdsong throughout the surrounding
terraced hillside. Multiple umbrellas provide shade for the dozen
tables. This still spot is an oasis from the flurry and bustle.
4:54 a.m. the
morning birds have begun to sing and sound like meadowlarks.
I could go out to walk, but fear my dressing and departure would
disturb the others.
It's 4:00 in
the morning in our shared room for four. I awoke about
an hour ago and couldn't go back to sleep. I've been squatting
on the
floor
for 15
minutes going by Braille to find my flashlight, journal and glasses.
Figured I might as well write. So I'm hunched, unable to sit up
straight; the bunk above me is too low to allow it. Journal on
my lap. Flashlight in my left hand. Pen in my right. Tomorrow night
I sleep with earplugs like I did last night. (They're likely too
hard
to find by Braille and without waking the others.)
In the Cinque Terre, I
could point my camera at anything and make an image that pleases
me, or at least that tickles my eye! What would one NOT photograph?
And how can one NOT photograph the doors, windows, hanging laundry
and address numbers? They certainly are easy, no-brainer photo
subjects (reminding me, in that way, of the American Southwest
and its lovely, old adobe.)
I have shot countless of
all of the requisite listed above. I must. And all the time I ask
myself what shot I could possibly take that has not yet been taken.
What fresh viewpoint could I bring to this much-photographed world
site? I think that any of my images will mirror those I've seen
elsewhere. But the compositions and the color blocks playing against
each other tickle me so much that I shoot them nonetheless.
I arrived in Riomaggiore at about 9:30 p.m. (Wednesday). After settling my things into the
room, I wandered back through the maze into the center of town,
looking behind me frequently to remember my way back! There's no
such thing as a simple right or left turn! The many times I've
asked for directions to some place, the answer has been short and
the search has been long. (Even when the answer was in English.)
But a long search yields discovery time and usually a corridor
and site I haven't seen yet.
So, on my first night, I enjoyed that lovely
plate of grilled, mixed fish, nicely prepared and presented by an
older waiter that was rushed to tend to the crowded restaurant.
The next morning I wandered around for a couple
of hours, came across the fisherman scrubbing his boat teak, and
found the path to the bathing beach (but didn't take it).
The locals actually appear to be indifferent
to the touring hordes. I feel invisible except to the shopkeepers
and restaurateurs who depend on the traveling buck. If I lived here
I would take it as an invasion! This must be an entirely different
place on a foggy Fall or stormy Winter day. How the colors must be
under a subdued sky, and how the townspeople must soften their indifference.
As it is, every train swells the throng...
or maybe it simply freshens and cycles the throng as it removes as
many
as it brings. And they come with a level of casualness and personal
exposure I doubt I'll find elsewhere on the trip. This is beach town.
As such, they are bikini- and speedo-clad, bare-chested, low cut,
hardly-covered, sun-bronzed, sheer, bright and sandal-footed. This
is especially true in Monterosso Al Mare, the northernmost
of the five towns. It's purpose is to provide satisfaction of the
hedonistic
pursuits of the Summer vacation crowd, and it seems to do it well.
Vernazza yielded more of the
photography I had hoped for. More of a colorful cluster and wandering
passageways.There's a small beach area, but the man-made boulder
jetties are sun-baked and covered with bodies nearly as much as any
sandy stretch
would be.
The building colors, I read, are controlled by
some sort of color authority. They are melon, tangerine, citrus,
mango, berry, celery, green apple, persimmon, lime, lemon and papaya.
It's a fruit and vegetable tray, chef-cut wedges stacked and sculpted
into a rocky shore. The dominant dark green window shutters are the
parsley garnish amidst the produce-colored array. These towns are
tutti-frutti. I wonder how that first came to be, unlike other seacoast
towns that have painted themselves gray and white like their Winter
storms.
25
Giugno 2008, Mercoledî• June 25, 2008, Wednesday• RIOMAGGIORE
10:05 Just ordered
breakfast... in Italian. I order something I wouldn't usually
select, looking for surprises, something new. So I ordered "Tosto",
which I believe will be a ham and cheese grilled sandwich.
Whoever said that the Cinque
Terre was undiscovered was mistaken! This place is full of people
speaking English and other languages, toting backpacks and suitcases.
(Well... Who do I think I am!?)
7:54 I
finally started to doze off at about 5:30. It was such a battle
falling asleep!
Sounds and other distractions throughout the night: Obnoxious partying
American tourists; the rumbling train; black flies and mosquitos;
the church chiming on the hour and then in duplicate 15 minutes
later; roosters, gulls and doves; footsteps on the stairs to my
room; cat
fights; mini-fridge in the room.
2:48 The
locals must hate the invasion of the summer tourists that know
no courtesies. Almost 3:00 in the morning, they still carry on.
They are loud and
rude.
2:48 Cats
squall and now the moths have found me, too. Maybe if I say a prayer
to San Giovanni he will help me sleep.
2:30 "Sono
il due in la mattina e non posso dormire! Sto pensando in Italiano." It's
2:30 in the morning and I can't sleep. I'm thinking in Italian.
Of course,
it's only 5:30 in the afternoon for me, and I'm a late night
person. Plus, the little black fly no-see-ums are biting me and
the tourists
are carousing in the piazza. Great. Give Americans a bad name!
My mind is so hyped that
it won't shut down to sleep.
I take the train back north
to Monterosso tomorrow and look forward to 3 nights in one place.
(Actually, at 2;30 a..m., it's already tomorrow.) And I look forward
to the travel time with my sister, Patti, her husband, Bruce, and
her daughter, Katie.
Oh! I arrived here in Riomaggiore
on the feast day of their patron saint, San Giovanni. There was
a procession through town of priests, religious and church members,
all in their Sunday best. "Il Padre" used a loudspeaker to project
his prayers through speakers carried by altar boys. The procession
passed while I awaited my "grigliata mista di pesce", mixed, grilled
fish, and the restaurant patrons leaned out the windows to watch.
(My camera shutter was stuck closed, so I got no shots.)
At 1:03 a.m., as
I get ready for bed, the train goes by and makes the town hum. A very late
night bird calls in the dark. I will sleep "al fresco", with the
door to the balcony wide open. "Bene, bene!" Great,
great! I can hear the water at the shoreline!
24
Giugno 2008, Martedî • June 24, 2008, Tuesday • RIOMAGGIORE (CINQUE
TERRE)
23:59 "Ho
avendo la volta di mi vita. Io sono in Italia; sto parlando
quasi sola Italiano. Tutta credono che parlo." I'm
having the time of my life. I'm here in Italy; I'm speaking
Italian. Everyone
thinks I can speak it. I made
this happen!
The local bells just chimed midnight. I'm listening
to Yo-Yo Ma playing Ennio Morricone. "Certo". Of course.
24
Giugno 2008, Martedî • June 24, 2008, Tuesday • GENOVA
A RIOMAGGIORE
20:40 Genova a Riomaggiore Just
crossed through Lavagna. Evening fishermen on the rocky jetties.
The train is a grand way to see a countryside. A slow crawl and
the luxury of indulging in pure observation. Curious the presentation
toward trainside. The hanging laundry, the building sides in
need of paint, the balconies, patios and gardens. The private
spaces away from the front roads.
I'm especially enjoying the architecturally
plain buildings that have elaborate and quite convincing faux,
painted details. I was fooled until I looked more closely. (They're
hard to photograph as we whizz by.)
Mmmm. the scent of a cedar at
21:00 in Deivi Marina. The bell tolled.
19:55 I'm
along the Ligurian sea coast. Water to my right. Cliffs spotted
with homes to my left as we travel south from Genova.
19:35 Finally
on the train from Genova to Riomaggiore. A complex train
station. Just finding an information office required wending
through a
rabbit warren maze! Waiting in the subterranean tunnel was
a cool respite!
I already know I packed too much!
I may have to jettison some things. Perhaps clothes from Value
Village since their value is low. What else can I ditch? If I can't
easily manage my own bags, I shouldn't have so much with me.
24
Giugno 2008, Martedî • June 24, 2008, Tuesday • MILANO
A GENOVA
16:50 (Italy generally
uses the 24 hour clock) Here
I am, sitting on the train going to Riomaggiore. My feet are
resting, propped
on the seat in front of me, fresh baby powder to cool them.
My luggage close by and two bottles of sparkling water to refresh
me. the windows are wide open and the air buffets my hair.
(I
smell occasional cattle farms as we pass by.) I'm studying
Italian verb conjugation while I ride along.
It's
almost a liability for my meager Italian to sound so good. People
mistakenly think I understand
and speak more than I do. So far I've encountered plenty that speak
English, but they've all been in "service positions",
such as at the airport, hotel and train station ticket window.
The train conductor
was pretty unyielding, though!"
Women
are wearing stylish flats. I've seen few heels, but then again,
I've only been in travel areas. (Although, when riding the bus
through the middle of Milan and looking out the window, I saw
few high heels.)
Oops! The conductor finally came
to check my ticket and I had neglected to have it stamped before
getting on the train! Oops. I apologized in Italian, and he jotted
a note and initialed my ticket. (I'm surprised it doesn't say "Americana
estupida".
On the bus from Milan Malpensa
Aeroporto a Milano Centrale I was paying attention to the cars
on the freeway. All quite small: BMW, Volkswagen, Fiat, Smart,
Kia, Citroen. I saw a small Ford I haven't seen in the U.S. I saw
NO pickup trucks and just 2 SUVs. We have a few things to learn,
especially as we're experiencing such high gas prices.
Just off the train tracks was
a parked truck loaded with an approx. 12 foot square block of rough-quarried
marble. Que bella! I was not prepared, however, with the camera
as the train passed by.
I'm reading every sign I see,
picking out words. Discerning new ones. Pattern recognition in
language.
"Casa Forte - La Hotel della
Cose". "Strong House - the hotel for things".
A self-storage unit like we have so many of in the U.S. Even
Italians have too
much stuff.
16:20 Milano Centrale Train Station On
the train from Milano to Genova to Riomaggiore. Before getting
on the train to Genova, I asked the conductor, in Italian,
if this train goes to Genova (wanting to be sure I got on the
right
one). He pointed to the reader board and rattled off. I think
he was saying "that's what the sign says!" Since
I wasn't sure of his answer, I confirmed with other passengers.
1:20 p.m. and
I just checked out of my room in Milan! A door slammed and awoke me at 12:15! "Non
posso credere que dormii tutta la mattina!" I
can't believe I slept all morning! I
rushed through a shower and gathered all my things. Scurried
to the front
desk and the manager was very understanding about how tired I must
be. No extra charge for being past check out time. "Ebbi
molta stanca." I was very tired.
23
Giugno 2008, Lunedí• June 23, 2008, Monday • MILANO
11:30 p.m. Greetings from Milano! First stop
of "Il Buon Viaggio" It's past midnight
and humid. As I was riding from the airport to the hotel
through old neighborhoods, I thought "I
am in ITALY! And for some reason everything's in Italian!" Tonight
is a respite before launching into the hustle of a whirlwind itinerary.
23
Giugno 2008, Lunedí• June 23, 2008, Monday • LONDON
9:00 p.m. London Time The Alps
are ragged and white in the darkening, hazy dusk.
8:00 p.m. London Time Crossing
over the English Channel.
6:00 p.m. London Time - Heathrow We
landed a little after 4:00, then a long time transferring terminals
and getting through
security.
Fun to
sit here in the airport and hear the various languages floating
by, as well as "English
with an accent". I know I'm in an airport, but don't yet
know that I'm in Europe for the first time in my life and will
be sleeping in Milan tonight
I remind myself to smile as I'm
walking around or sitting amongst others. A simple softening at
the corners of the mouth can change and open a face.
9:15 a.m. London Time Sunrise
over ice on Hudson Bay.
