Oh man!! Its a beeeautiful day today! I feel so lucky. My Italian class this morning got cancelled so I took a nap, ate breakfast at a little indoor patio table in the sun (breakfast consisting of a chocolate stuffed croissant and a cappuccino..yum!) and started a new book because its just that kind of day! The old one is boring me out of my mind so I'm so ready for a little good ol' storytelling in my life, and decided to be quite frank with the old book--I'm sorry old friend. We just don't match that well. I'm also not attending my site visit lecture (a) because I can go tomorrow and enjoy right now more and (b) because I've been dying to tell you about Venice!!
Oh my god... what an adventure. I feel so blessed to have such insane opportunities thrown at me. I started off by going on a class field trip to Siena on Friday which was just...beautiful. The huge open square in the morning sun was a perfect place to sit with a coffee and happily bake, with the coolness of the air oh so refreshing. We went to a couple museums and were lectured at for a bit, but my favorite part of Siena was experiencing the beauty of the city. It was the PERFECT mix of medieval Assisi and urban Florence. For lunch some friends and I got pizza (mine had hot dog pieces on it and was delicious! Can you believe it?? Hot dogs and pizza... Oh Italy), and then we bought ourselves small cups of gelato and laid flat out on the huuuge brick square in the center of town. We cat napped and chatted and I did handstands just to prove to all the smoking, sitting, standing Italians that I was a crazy American (you'll see pictures of this soon. Check facebook). And once we finished we were bussed over to San Gimignano, a very small town with a beautiful church, and there my friends Marina and Travis and I ordered glasses of white wine and sat outside of the winery in the freezing cold toasting the sweet grapes of life.
No sooner had we returned to school (about 7:15 PM) that Travis and I caught a cab and raced to the train station to make our way to Venice. We met our friends, hopped aboard, found ourselves on the mainland and all dropped fast asleep in our tiny little trailer rooms at a hostel called the "Camping Fusina". It was very cute, and in the morning...very cold. We checked out and found ourselves a ferry to Venice and before we knew it, Venice itself--its small islands of claw like dead trees, abandoned, crumbling brick, church domes glinting and water sloshing against the bright green algae at its edges like a skirt--it all emerged from out of the humid morning mist, and I fell in love. People dressed in cloaks and bright masks, in clown costumes and pirate attire strolled down the streets as if it were any other day. Some of the costumes were extraordinary: full length gowns on both men and women, with their whole faces disguised behind white, other worldly masks. There was gauze and there were veils. There were beads, sequins, fabrics of all shades and shine. There were parasols and tall staffs decorated in ribbons, skulls, rhinestones and strings. The further we walked into the city, the more we saw.
The streets were absolutely packed for Carnivale. The entire day (and towards the end it got very old) you were pushed, bumped, squashed and bustled because of the enormity of the crowds. San Marco square, despite the fact that it was crawling with tourists and spectators, was absolutely unbelievable. It was like being in a dream. All the books and all the films I've ever read or seen that had made mention of this place suddenly were realized before me. The griffon on the pillar... The gilded horses on the church... The gondolas and gondoliers in their striped shirts and red ribboned hats beckoning to excited visitors. The canals glowed and looked like postcards even to your eyes, before you even snapped a photo. As we made our way through San Marco, five Italians stood on stilts within enormous giraffe costumes. Their faces midway up the long necks that they could bend down, pretending to drink from a surprised Italian woman's cappuccino cup, nuzzle pretty women's cheeks, and kiss me as I took a picture and exclaimed "Ciao!!!" while laughing histarically. They meandered past us, through the crowds, and we were left in a persisting state of amazement at the costumes and surprises of Carnivale around us.
We walked for hours and found dance parties to join, small children in tiger and lion costumes throwing confetti (the place was COVERED in confetti!! Which, by the way, is an Italian word!) and all kinds of amazing vendors of masks, cloaks, hats, beads, glass, and candies. Eventually we got hungry and found ourselves a small dock on the Grand Canal by the Rialto where we unloaded pre-prepared nutella sandwhiches, pistaccios, oranges and wheat cookies and we had our feast. The day was really such a blur. After eating I even ran into Lydia Deutch and Christine Carletta from Bowdoin in some random square! Just by sheer fate or coincidence or whatever you want to call it. We found each other all at once, in Venice, when we came from varying points of Italy and had no idea we would run across each other here. I almost cried from laughing.
By 10 PM we were pretty exhausted and found ourselves a small restaurant where the waiter repeatedly harrassed one girl in our group by sneaking up behind her and announcing "ONE LASAGNA!" or "HERE'S YOUR SALAD!" making her jump, and making us absolutely crack up. The food was good, but for lack of sleep that weekend I felt myself getting sick. So...for the rest of the night I dawdled in back, basically sleep walking and praying for 3 AM to come around when we'd catch our train back home. Luckily, no one noticed me being too much of a zombie, so I don't feel too bad. We got back to Florence at 6:30 AM and my roommate and I slept until 2. I'm still recovering from all that travel, but let me say, it was the weekend of a lifetime.
Anyway. Dad's here! He came in last night and we went to the four seasons to get good food. We ordered wine but decided it was too stuffy for us, so they gave us a recommendation for a noisier, wonderful restaurant and gave us the wine and some little dessert treats for free!! I'm loving how Italy is teaching me to speak up when I don't like something or when I want to do something else...haha, see what we got out of it? We found the amazing little place straight down the street from dad's hotel and had a wonderful meal. I even got dad to stay up a few hours longer to see me play the open mic at BeBop (although I've decided its not my favorite venue and I don't think I'll be going there again... too many bored Italians and loud Americans who don't care about who's performing). Although! I did run into Federico 1 from my last visit which was funny, even introducing him to dad although neither of them could communicate with each other. Anyway. I slept so well last night despite the sniffles and I'm thrilled that this week is going to be gorgeous. Gonna go get some errands done so I can study for midterms later...yikes! Love you all very, very much. Sorry this is so long. Thinking of you much. xoxo Em
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Thursday, February 19, 2009
In Need of Song Suggestions...Fast
Oh my gosh... So... I don't have much time to write this (lab closes soon and Italian family expects me at dinner) but I wanted to tell you about my Monday. I finally got up the courage to play an open mic in Italy. My roommate who is such a wonderful girl, walked with me the ten minutes or so to BeBop, which is an Italian bar that draws mostly American sororities and frats. They have a small stage and consistently show groups playing rock, R&B and things like that. The owner of the club, who I met, is a long haired Italian man that when singing sounds EXACTLY like McJagger. Its almost scary how good he is. So, to make a long story short, I showed up, was told to come back next week when they had more room, left a little disappointed with my roomie so I played outside in the freezing Piazza for a half hour gaining some compliments and also some very confused, judgmental looks, and then met two Italian dudes (Frederico and Frederico) who, after introducing themselves, said they were going to play in BeBop (which they didn't) so I followed them back there with roomie and friend Travis in tow, was introduced to the owner who told me to stand up front by the stage, and they squoze me in last minute! I was very shy and quiet up front so I think no one expected me to be any good, but then I busted out "High & Dry", "Why Georgia" and an original and was asked to play a fourth! I WAS ON SUCH A HIGH! it was so so so so so amazing. A perfect night. It was so fun, and so satisfying, and makes me ask myself: "Why, for the love of God, did I not change my major to music?!" I'm going to do it again next Monday and this time my whole Italian class and new group of friends and a few scattered friends here and there will be coming to see it!! I'm so excited, but very nervous. Gotta learn new songs by then! GAAAAAH. im going to Venice tomorrow for Carnival, get yourselves ready for some poetic descriptions of the waterways, the masks and the fireworks. It's gonna be epic.
love you!
Em
P.S. People are now mistaking me for an Italian! What is going on!??
love you!
Em
P.S. People are now mistaking me for an Italian! What is going on!??
Sunday, February 15, 2009
A Toast To You Saint Valentine
Last night, I finally decided it was time to go out (No love around? FINE! I'll have a beer!). Thus far I have not experienced any Italian nightlife because after such stomach stuffing dinners and daunting days sleep is inevitable. So, in order to prepare myself for a night of fun I slept from five until ten PM. My roommate worked on an art project on her bed next to me, meaning all the lights in the room were on. This was perfect because waking up at night with the same amount of light as you fell asleep to is much, much easier than your conciousness clinging and scraping, biting and grumbling its way through the dark whose presence does nothing but remind you that you should still be fast asleep. We got up off our lazy bums and rallied the friends to meet at the piazza infront of Santa Croce. I've mentioned this church in a previous entry because I had to go there for an Art History excursion and it was also the temporary backdrop to the festival of chocolate...
Let me take this moment to interrupt the narrative of this entry and point out that it was Valentine's Day. It was a very difficult day for lack of certain special someones and so my roommate and I decided we must attempt to satisfy our sulking little hearts by purchasing large quantities of chocolate. We searched high, we searched low. We went in grocery stores and gelateria and kebab restaurants and found not ONE box of assorted chocolates under forty plus dollars. Dejected and disappointed we made our long way home, stopping back in the supermarket to at least get some peanut m&m's. Of which I ate none. Thank goodness for Momma's, however, because I had normal m&ms in a beautiful array of Valentine's day colors which were sent to me by my one and only momma dearest, and upon our return to our room our host momma had placed a deliriously delicious, melt in your mouth, creamy and dreamy delectable, finger lickingly joyous small chocolate heart on our pillows. "Because the men do nothing!" she says, "At least the women remember this day!" She leans her head back dramatically and rolls her eyes, gesturing towards somewhere within the apartment where her husband is busy doing whatever it is he does. He does seem like a sweet heart though. And moments before eating my treat I got a wonderful phone call from my love :-)
So...Where was I? We were standing in the piazza when a kind faced Italian man and women approached our group and asked, "parle inglese?" Which I took to mean, "do you speak only English or do you know any Italian?" So I perked up with a quick "Parlo poco Italiano!" The man smiled widely and explained that tonight, at that very moment, a prayer service of a kind was being held in Santa Croce and we were cordially invited. He explained that when we would enter the church we would be given a slip of paper where we could write a prayer to Jesus, place it in a basket and retrieve a slip from another that would be Jesus' response. Why not? Could be pretty sweet to hear from the big man himself so we agreed that the pub could wait ten minutes. They shepherded us in and to our surprise, all the lights in the expansive interior were shut off. There were two rows of pews with people kneeling, folded hands against their foreheads and eyes closed in quiet conversation with their God. The only light came from the pool of small prayer candles growing beneath a small crucifix, between the white and red roses on the soft red carpet laid down on the floor. Small groups of people and nuns would approach this space, kneel, and place their prayers in the basket.
If ever a woman sung like angel it would be the middle aged italian soprano on her chair with her music stand, sitting off to the left of the pews, being accompanied by a classical guitarist. Her voice and the melody from the guitar filled the church up to the high vaulted ceiling and carried like a feather on water. The very kind man who brought us in introduced our group to a man who spoke English. He brought us to the front with our cards where we all kneeled down. He asked if he could pray for us, and then quietly recited his prayer beneath the song of the soprano. Asking that his new friends may always find where to place their feet, that they be free from fear, and never feel alone. The prayer went on, and some in our group became a little antsy, so when he finished, we thanked him and quietly shuffled out of the church entryway, filled with peace and surprise towards the unexpected, beautiful find and not sure how to break the reverential silence. Its true it was a little strange considering that we are not a very religious group of kids, and some of us weren't even catholic. But I think that we were lucky enough to find love in strangers that night, and it it filled us all.
Continuing on our merry way down the cobbled street we arrived at our intended destination. The Scottish pub! I ordered a beer and it was the most delicious thing I've tasted in a while. I was so thirsty and so pleased at finding that good beer still tasted like good beer, that I drank it like water and had a very happy time with my buddies. We ordered french fries and chicken nuggets which tasted like heaven, and the American sounding bar tender made sure we had a pitcher of oktoberfest brew on our table. Not exactly the "Italian" style kind of evening but I certainly wasn't complaining. We chatted and laughed and snacked until 2:30 when the bar closed down, and all of us, being novice's at battling the late Italian hours, scurried back home to our warm beds considering the air was cool enough still to turn our breath to steam. That night, I thought about all of the loves and all of the love in my life, and felt so blessed, and so happy. Thank you to you all, again, you make my life worthwhile.
"...non sono piu io che vivo, ma Cristo vive in me" (Gal 2,20) -Jesus' response to my prayer note.
Let me take this moment to interrupt the narrative of this entry and point out that it was Valentine's Day. It was a very difficult day for lack of certain special someones and so my roommate and I decided we must attempt to satisfy our sulking little hearts by purchasing large quantities of chocolate. We searched high, we searched low. We went in grocery stores and gelateria and kebab restaurants and found not ONE box of assorted chocolates under forty plus dollars. Dejected and disappointed we made our long way home, stopping back in the supermarket to at least get some peanut m&m's. Of which I ate none. Thank goodness for Momma's, however, because I had normal m&ms in a beautiful array of Valentine's day colors which were sent to me by my one and only momma dearest, and upon our return to our room our host momma had placed a deliriously delicious, melt in your mouth, creamy and dreamy delectable, finger lickingly joyous small chocolate heart on our pillows. "Because the men do nothing!" she says, "At least the women remember this day!" She leans her head back dramatically and rolls her eyes, gesturing towards somewhere within the apartment where her husband is busy doing whatever it is he does. He does seem like a sweet heart though. And moments before eating my treat I got a wonderful phone call from my love :-)
So...Where was I? We were standing in the piazza when a kind faced Italian man and women approached our group and asked, "parle inglese?" Which I took to mean, "do you speak only English or do you know any Italian?" So I perked up with a quick "Parlo poco Italiano!" The man smiled widely and explained that tonight, at that very moment, a prayer service of a kind was being held in Santa Croce and we were cordially invited. He explained that when we would enter the church we would be given a slip of paper where we could write a prayer to Jesus, place it in a basket and retrieve a slip from another that would be Jesus' response. Why not? Could be pretty sweet to hear from the big man himself so we agreed that the pub could wait ten minutes. They shepherded us in and to our surprise, all the lights in the expansive interior were shut off. There were two rows of pews with people kneeling, folded hands against their foreheads and eyes closed in quiet conversation with their God. The only light came from the pool of small prayer candles growing beneath a small crucifix, between the white and red roses on the soft red carpet laid down on the floor. Small groups of people and nuns would approach this space, kneel, and place their prayers in the basket.
If ever a woman sung like angel it would be the middle aged italian soprano on her chair with her music stand, sitting off to the left of the pews, being accompanied by a classical guitarist. Her voice and the melody from the guitar filled the church up to the high vaulted ceiling and carried like a feather on water. The very kind man who brought us in introduced our group to a man who spoke English. He brought us to the front with our cards where we all kneeled down. He asked if he could pray for us, and then quietly recited his prayer beneath the song of the soprano. Asking that his new friends may always find where to place their feet, that they be free from fear, and never feel alone. The prayer went on, and some in our group became a little antsy, so when he finished, we thanked him and quietly shuffled out of the church entryway, filled with peace and surprise towards the unexpected, beautiful find and not sure how to break the reverential silence. Its true it was a little strange considering that we are not a very religious group of kids, and some of us weren't even catholic. But I think that we were lucky enough to find love in strangers that night, and it it filled us all.
Continuing on our merry way down the cobbled street we arrived at our intended destination. The Scottish pub! I ordered a beer and it was the most delicious thing I've tasted in a while. I was so thirsty and so pleased at finding that good beer still tasted like good beer, that I drank it like water and had a very happy time with my buddies. We ordered french fries and chicken nuggets which tasted like heaven, and the American sounding bar tender made sure we had a pitcher of oktoberfest brew on our table. Not exactly the "Italian" style kind of evening but I certainly wasn't complaining. We chatted and laughed and snacked until 2:30 when the bar closed down, and all of us, being novice's at battling the late Italian hours, scurried back home to our warm beds considering the air was cool enough still to turn our breath to steam. That night, I thought about all of the loves and all of the love in my life, and felt so blessed, and so happy. Thank you to you all, again, you make my life worthwhile.
"...non sono piu io che vivo, ma Cristo vive in me" (Gal 2,20) -Jesus' response to my prayer note.
Friday, February 13, 2009
When You Give A Girl A Flower
Hey lovelies! So...yes. Rome was fantastic, I'll never forget Ethan and his sound recording... standing there in the rain with his arm raised high with the mic, saluting the air, blessing the noise. And also how a flower vendor came up to me at the Trevi fountain, put three roses in my hand despite my intial "no! no no no" and simply said to me "good luck". He then followed a few paces behind me, approached ethan and gestured for money. When Ethan said no, and I explained that this crazy kid was not my significant other, he snatched the roses back from me and stalked off. Ah Roma. For some reason I was reminded of a tantrum throwing mouse from that book "If you give a mouse a cookie" and what popped into my head was "If you give a girl a flower..." I don't know what would follow that statement.."She'd like another?" "She'll hunt you down and clobber you if you play nasty tricks?" Haha..I really wasn't that offended, nor was I suprised.
And fortunately these last couple days in Florence have been sunny and beautiful!! It's absolutely amazing and drastic, the difference that it makes in the feel of the city and most of all my mood. The other day I crossed the river for the first time in a while to look at a beautiful church designed by Brunelleschi, and along the tiny streets I passed a wine bar with Jazz music playing, little caffe's cleaning up, sending the bell like sounds of clinking china into the streets, and the general air was quiet, and humming the way a lazy summer afternoon sounds with the neighborhood chatter and laughter fuzzy in your peripheral hearing. It was so nice! On the way back from the church I bought a gelato and stood on the bridge over the river. There were no clouds and the sky was bright blue. The mountains were snow capped far on the horizon, and the yellow and gold colored buildings were reflected softly, and upside down beneath their bases in the green and navy river water.
So...I've been obsessed with writing down things I notice here or that strike me and I was wondering why I've been suffering from this OCD. So I've been working on journaling as part of my painting project to analyze my thoughts and apply them to cool images and this is what came out of my head today:
"There are so many things I've been trying desperately to record and remember. It's gotten really bad this year in particular. I stop on bridges, oustide gelato stores, in the kitchen in the morning to write down what the sunlight looked like, how many kinds of rain there are, how the river is like a mirror to the vanity of the buildings when it's bright outside. Why? I don't know. Because I must. Whether its a need to remember or a desperate attempt to capture and conserve in words, I can't say, maybe it's both. Maybe this project is my diary turned into "art" whatever that is. Haha. I want to put song lyrics in it too. The one's that get stuck in my head from the Weepies, Switchfoot, Norah Jones, and I also want to include book quotes like, 'Teach me to sew a vine of stars', which is from a book called 'Habibi'. I read it yeeears ago and never forgot. Things like this I'm compelled to share, in the same way I guess as I'm compelled to share what I see when I stop on bridges, in kitchens and outside shops. There's always something strikes me. There's always something that sticks. It's all so fresh to me, and I wish you could see it the way I do, if only just for fun. Maybe you do. Everything becomes beautiful I think not when you forget yourself, but when you, for an instance, feel more yourself than ever."
Oh before I forget I want to tell you that the old folks and the pidgeons are so cute here. The old couples walk arm in arm down the sidewalks, the little old ladies with their long peat coats and scarves over their hair, shuffling in little old lady shoes, wearing all bright colors of rouge and lipstick and large tortoise shell sunglasses. Very stylish, these little old ladies. And the gentlemen are even more adorable in their little caps. Walking slowly and straight backed, hands clasped behind them, hats matching their coats. They stop occasionally to wipe something from the cheek of their lady or look around them with a contentedness that reads, "Nice day. I'm in no rush, I rather enjoy observing the rest of the young hurry by. I've been there... What a nice day." I also forgot to mention that the streets of Rome are lined with trees full of oranges! There were none low enough for my travel buddies to reach, because I'm sure the accessible ones are all quickly snatched. Lucky for me, I hate fruit :-D eat it fruit lovers.
I love you guys so much. Happy almost Valentine's day Jamie! And to all my lovely wonderful friends and family. You guys mean the WOOORLD to me, and you make my life so very happy and so full of love. Thinking of you. A dopo! Ti voglio tanto bene! tvtb, xoxo, <3
MWAH
em
And fortunately these last couple days in Florence have been sunny and beautiful!! It's absolutely amazing and drastic, the difference that it makes in the feel of the city and most of all my mood. The other day I crossed the river for the first time in a while to look at a beautiful church designed by Brunelleschi, and along the tiny streets I passed a wine bar with Jazz music playing, little caffe's cleaning up, sending the bell like sounds of clinking china into the streets, and the general air was quiet, and humming the way a lazy summer afternoon sounds with the neighborhood chatter and laughter fuzzy in your peripheral hearing. It was so nice! On the way back from the church I bought a gelato and stood on the bridge over the river. There were no clouds and the sky was bright blue. The mountains were snow capped far on the horizon, and the yellow and gold colored buildings were reflected softly, and upside down beneath their bases in the green and navy river water.
So...I've been obsessed with writing down things I notice here or that strike me and I was wondering why I've been suffering from this OCD. So I've been working on journaling as part of my painting project to analyze my thoughts and apply them to cool images and this is what came out of my head today:
"There are so many things I've been trying desperately to record and remember. It's gotten really bad this year in particular. I stop on bridges, oustide gelato stores, in the kitchen in the morning to write down what the sunlight looked like, how many kinds of rain there are, how the river is like a mirror to the vanity of the buildings when it's bright outside. Why? I don't know. Because I must. Whether its a need to remember or a desperate attempt to capture and conserve in words, I can't say, maybe it's both. Maybe this project is my diary turned into "art" whatever that is. Haha. I want to put song lyrics in it too. The one's that get stuck in my head from the Weepies, Switchfoot, Norah Jones, and I also want to include book quotes like, 'Teach me to sew a vine of stars', which is from a book called 'Habibi'. I read it yeeears ago and never forgot. Things like this I'm compelled to share, in the same way I guess as I'm compelled to share what I see when I stop on bridges, in kitchens and outside shops. There's always something strikes me. There's always something that sticks. It's all so fresh to me, and I wish you could see it the way I do, if only just for fun. Maybe you do. Everything becomes beautiful I think not when you forget yourself, but when you, for an instance, feel more yourself than ever."
Oh before I forget I want to tell you that the old folks and the pidgeons are so cute here. The old couples walk arm in arm down the sidewalks, the little old ladies with their long peat coats and scarves over their hair, shuffling in little old lady shoes, wearing all bright colors of rouge and lipstick and large tortoise shell sunglasses. Very stylish, these little old ladies. And the gentlemen are even more adorable in their little caps. Walking slowly and straight backed, hands clasped behind them, hats matching their coats. They stop occasionally to wipe something from the cheek of their lady or look around them with a contentedness that reads, "Nice day. I'm in no rush, I rather enjoy observing the rest of the young hurry by. I've been there... What a nice day." I also forgot to mention that the streets of Rome are lined with trees full of oranges! There were none low enough for my travel buddies to reach, because I'm sure the accessible ones are all quickly snatched. Lucky for me, I hate fruit :-D eat it fruit lovers.
I love you guys so much. Happy almost Valentine's day Jamie! And to all my lovely wonderful friends and family. You guys mean the WOOORLD to me, and you make my life so very happy and so full of love. Thinking of you. A dopo! Ti voglio tanto bene! tvtb, xoxo, <3
MWAH
em
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
When Trash Transcends
Hi everbody. So its been a while since I gave you some comprehendible information about how im doing and what its like here. Lets start with Rome.
Rome was absolutely amazing. It had a very open feel after coming from Florence which you can get to know in a week pretty much. Rome was totally urban, and reminded me very much of Chicago. The people there look you in the eye and everyone is so fashionable! There was so much good shopping and so many caffe's and pizzerias and I had some low class Roman pizza and spaghetti (of poorer quality than we eat in the US) but I was still so freakin excited because it was ROMAN!!! ROME ROME ROME! I loooved it! Its really interesting because there were a lot of diverse reactions. Some people were relieved to return to Florence whereas I was very reluctant. If it hadn't been for the nasty hostel I stayed in when we stayed the extra night I would have tried to prolong my stay as long as possible...maybe even transfer universities? Ok not...
There was so much history there. The Romans probably don't think anything of it when they walk around town and OH HEY! BOOM! There's the Pantheon. There's the Colloseum. There's the Vatican. We went inside all these places and more and it was so stunning. The Vatican was really cool but surprisingly not my favorite part. And I guess I've been over exposed to the God and Adam imagery (pictures with their fingers almost touching) so that when I actually saw it my reaction was just like, "Oh, okay. So that's where it is". My heart pounded more when I came across a tiny room dedicated to a couple Morandi pieces... so simple and puurty. We saw tons of cool art galleries and because I'm in a painting class they took us in some contemporary art museums as well where I saw things ranging from collosal marble scultpures of a darth vader looking man named "justice" to whispy van gogh like paintings of warm melting colors depicting an old German myth. (I illegally snapped a photo of these...don't tell). By the way I PROMISE I will put up some pictures soon, and probably on facebook because its easy to upload there.
The next night some friends and I went out to dinner downt the street from the grody hostel (which was called yellow and didnt have half the cheer as the color... dont get me started on the smell). We went to a pizzeria where our waiter's name was, yes, you guessed it, Guiseppe!! We had pasta and gelato and we toasted with heinekin, haha. We had such a fun dinner and probably bothered the other Italians in the restaurant because we were laughing so loud. Then the girls went out pub crawling and my friend Ethan and I, being crazy artists, took our journals, sound recorders, and cameras out into the Roman night to explore and capture everything.
We walked for HOOOOURRS and covered the entire city. We saw so many things, fountains with statues above them, lit light blue and green from the lamps under the water. We passed guards with machine guns on the streets, and saw the changing of the guard the next day which was crazy. That night we walked to the Trevi fountain and got gelato, walked past the presidential palace, and down the steps to the Tibur river. It was stunningly beautiful down there but not in the way you would expect. It was raining and the trees lining the cobbled walkway were absolutely littered with strips of trash and plastic bags. In the strange light coming from the lit up buildings, bouncing of the rushing water, the trees looked instead like they had tinsel hanging from the branches, and all the puddles reflected the city lights. It was so magical. I couldn't stop taking photos, and suddenly everything became beautiful to me: The moss growing out of the wall in tufts with dramatic shadows falling beside them, the green glass bottle left on a stone slab glinting with raindrops and light, the river itself rushing and curving like air over the surface of a racing car. Because Ethan was recording all the sounds (raindrops in puddles, on umbrellas, the rushing river, the tran over the bridge...) and because we kept stopping to observe and take photos, and because I paused every few feet to write about what I was seeing and experiencing, the moment was so intensely present for me. Every sensation was so pointed and so sharp and I felt like everything around me was bursting with energy, crying to be noticed, and more beautiful than a DaVinci Portrait....even the garbage on the trees and the wet, grafittied undersides of the bridges, and the single tiny patch of grass between the cobbles as we walked. ah..i have to go but ill end this post with a few more things asap. love you all.
em
Rome was absolutely amazing. It had a very open feel after coming from Florence which you can get to know in a week pretty much. Rome was totally urban, and reminded me very much of Chicago. The people there look you in the eye and everyone is so fashionable! There was so much good shopping and so many caffe's and pizzerias and I had some low class Roman pizza and spaghetti (of poorer quality than we eat in the US) but I was still so freakin excited because it was ROMAN!!! ROME ROME ROME! I loooved it! Its really interesting because there were a lot of diverse reactions. Some people were relieved to return to Florence whereas I was very reluctant. If it hadn't been for the nasty hostel I stayed in when we stayed the extra night I would have tried to prolong my stay as long as possible...maybe even transfer universities? Ok not...
There was so much history there. The Romans probably don't think anything of it when they walk around town and OH HEY! BOOM! There's the Pantheon. There's the Colloseum. There's the Vatican. We went inside all these places and more and it was so stunning. The Vatican was really cool but surprisingly not my favorite part. And I guess I've been over exposed to the God and Adam imagery (pictures with their fingers almost touching) so that when I actually saw it my reaction was just like, "Oh, okay. So that's where it is". My heart pounded more when I came across a tiny room dedicated to a couple Morandi pieces... so simple and puurty. We saw tons of cool art galleries and because I'm in a painting class they took us in some contemporary art museums as well where I saw things ranging from collosal marble scultpures of a darth vader looking man named "justice" to whispy van gogh like paintings of warm melting colors depicting an old German myth. (I illegally snapped a photo of these...don't tell). By the way I PROMISE I will put up some pictures soon, and probably on facebook because its easy to upload there.
The next night some friends and I went out to dinner downt the street from the grody hostel (which was called yellow and didnt have half the cheer as the color... dont get me started on the smell). We went to a pizzeria where our waiter's name was, yes, you guessed it, Guiseppe!! We had pasta and gelato and we toasted with heinekin, haha. We had such a fun dinner and probably bothered the other Italians in the restaurant because we were laughing so loud. Then the girls went out pub crawling and my friend Ethan and I, being crazy artists, took our journals, sound recorders, and cameras out into the Roman night to explore and capture everything.
We walked for HOOOOURRS and covered the entire city. We saw so many things, fountains with statues above them, lit light blue and green from the lamps under the water. We passed guards with machine guns on the streets, and saw the changing of the guard the next day which was crazy. That night we walked to the Trevi fountain and got gelato, walked past the presidential palace, and down the steps to the Tibur river. It was stunningly beautiful down there but not in the way you would expect. It was raining and the trees lining the cobbled walkway were absolutely littered with strips of trash and plastic bags. In the strange light coming from the lit up buildings, bouncing of the rushing water, the trees looked instead like they had tinsel hanging from the branches, and all the puddles reflected the city lights. It was so magical. I couldn't stop taking photos, and suddenly everything became beautiful to me: The moss growing out of the wall in tufts with dramatic shadows falling beside them, the green glass bottle left on a stone slab glinting with raindrops and light, the river itself rushing and curving like air over the surface of a racing car. Because Ethan was recording all the sounds (raindrops in puddles, on umbrellas, the rushing river, the tran over the bridge...) and because we kept stopping to observe and take photos, and because I paused every few feet to write about what I was seeing and experiencing, the moment was so intensely present for me. Every sensation was so pointed and so sharp and I felt like everything around me was bursting with energy, crying to be noticed, and more beautiful than a DaVinci Portrait....even the garbage on the trees and the wet, grafittied undersides of the bridges, and the single tiny patch of grass between the cobbles as we walked. ah..i have to go but ill end this post with a few more things asap. love you all.
em
Sunday, February 8, 2009
So Much to Tell You...So Little Energy
I just got back from Rome. It was AMAZING. But I'm exhausted and I smell like a wet horse. Time to shower and sleep. I'll tell you all about it soon :-)
Thursday, February 5, 2009
Temperaments of Rain
Indulge me...my blog is turning into a creative writing project. For a quick update- I had a great day, I got a candy package!!! THANK YOUUUU!!! Happy Valentines! LOOOOVE! And every little thing that could go right did. Finally. I'm off to Rome tomorrow and I'll be there till Sunday! Woo! And also. Pidgeons have emerald collars and dear old Elia who run's Elia's cafe at school is adorable and I look forward to my caffe latte always. She and her husband call me "carina. bella." (as they do to everyone), and it makes me so happy! The end.
I once heard a line from a movie that profoundly stated, "God is in the rain". From then on I would occasionally feel compelled to sing, hum or pray aloud to these droplets of God, although usually in whispers. A group of scientists actually discovered that by speaking aloud to a freezing drop of water, the form or pattern that the snowflake would take on depended on the word it "heard". Ugly, brute and jagged patterns would form for those flakes that heard, "hate", "sorrow", or "war". On the other hand, the snowflakes that heard "love", "beauty" or "friendship" were inclined to create beautiful, symmetrical and elaborate patterns. Having been inspired by this discovery, I like to keep my whispers always cheerful and positive with the hope that the rest of the world (being touched by this listening rain) will share in the good wishes that were released among them. Everyone could use a little love on a gray day.
I'm one to believe that there are many varying temperaments of rain. There's four-year-old tantrum rain, surprise-you-without-your-umbrella rain. There's salty rain and painful rain, gentle kissing rain and seems-to-be-coming-from-the-ground-up rain. It can be needed, it can tease. It can love you dearly or it can tear you apart. This is the start of my analysis-a science project of my own where I will categorize and name all types of rain so someday they can put them in text books where kids can learn about their properties-their sounds, textures, their effects, the kinds of clouds they came from and how these things relate, their likes, their dislikes, their colors and their vices... This is just a taste.
First, there's angry, pounding rain (element name: APR). APR beats down on your head and shoulders, floods views from window panes and falls in diagonal gusts as if to say "I am an emperor of clouds and of air. You will compromise for me today"...or however long this rain may reign.
There is also the light, whispy kind (LWR) . An incredibly shy kind of rain that you barely feel and only notice as it gathers in group form out of fear. This is fog (FOG). A droplet's own personal "school of fish" so to speak. "Strength in numbers" this skittish rain believes. Usually this kind doesn't really want to bother you, so you may only notice it after walking a block or so and discovering that it's drops have accumulated and are now falling from your cheekbones like tears and driping down your temples like persperation.
Third, there is the kind of rain that the gardener prays for-to quench the ground and wet the tongue's of flowers. This rain releases earth smells and if you stand quitely amidst it with your face to the sky and your mouth open, you too might find yourself feeling quenched, baptized, fresh, alive.
And then there's dead rain, (DR, also known as RIP. You may see RIP on tombstones- a tribute to the ancient greek saying, "rain into pergatory" which was recited at the passing of a loved one. Pergatory, at the time, was a word for the afterworld with no negative connotations). Some people welcome this mirror to their emotions and find it cathartic to a gray disposition. To others, it is heart wrenching. This kind of rain pours down on funereal scenes like a dense shroud. It chills the air drastically and permeates your tightest knit sweaters. It will drench your so called "rain jacket" and with its icy fingers reach deep into your body despite your skin-like a phantom's palm passes through a brick wall. The chill of dead rain is absorbed by your bones where it will settle. You will not warm for hours.
And what about sun showers? Personally this may be my favorite kind of rain. This kind is gentle, sudden and refreshing. The sun still shines yellow and warm and you might not even see the cloud that housed this glittering spray. This rain likes to tickle your skin and play on eyelashes. If rain could laugh, sun showers would give off bubbly little bursts as it hit the ground and conjured rainbows out of nowhere. As soon as it arrives, it is gone.
Obviously there are countless kinds of rain and so far we've uncovered only a few. Contributions to this study are welcome. Please send any discoveries or data to
Emily Schonberg,
c/o Syracuse University in Florence,
Piazza Savonarola, 15
50132, Firenze
Italia
Grazie mille.
* * *
From my bed this morning I could hear the rain. The interesting part is that I knew by its sound just what kind of rain it was- you hear it being sloshed, shushed and splashed aside by passing wheels and you can picture it- parted by the dirty treads, breaching onto the curbs and settling in stagnant pools of mud, oil, city scrub and pancaked layers of gum. This type of rain makes you feel chilled and clammy and in fact, like a clam, I find myself walling up and refusing to open my door. Lucky for me, the clouds broke in the late afternoon to let the sun in, and it turned out to be a wonderful day.I once heard a line from a movie that profoundly stated, "God is in the rain". From then on I would occasionally feel compelled to sing, hum or pray aloud to these droplets of God, although usually in whispers. A group of scientists actually discovered that by speaking aloud to a freezing drop of water, the form or pattern that the snowflake would take on depended on the word it "heard". Ugly, brute and jagged patterns would form for those flakes that heard, "hate", "sorrow", or "war". On the other hand, the snowflakes that heard "love", "beauty" or "friendship" were inclined to create beautiful, symmetrical and elaborate patterns. Having been inspired by this discovery, I like to keep my whispers always cheerful and positive with the hope that the rest of the world (being touched by this listening rain) will share in the good wishes that were released among them. Everyone could use a little love on a gray day.
I'm one to believe that there are many varying temperaments of rain. There's four-year-old tantrum rain, surprise-you-without-your-umbrella rain. There's salty rain and painful rain, gentle kissing rain and seems-to-be-coming-from-the-ground-up rain. It can be needed, it can tease. It can love you dearly or it can tear you apart. This is the start of my analysis-a science project of my own where I will categorize and name all types of rain so someday they can put them in text books where kids can learn about their properties-their sounds, textures, their effects, the kinds of clouds they came from and how these things relate, their likes, their dislikes, their colors and their vices... This is just a taste.
First, there's angry, pounding rain (element name: APR). APR beats down on your head and shoulders, floods views from window panes and falls in diagonal gusts as if to say "I am an emperor of clouds and of air. You will compromise for me today"...or however long this rain may reign.
There is also the light, whispy kind (LWR) . An incredibly shy kind of rain that you barely feel and only notice as it gathers in group form out of fear. This is fog (FOG). A droplet's own personal "school of fish" so to speak. "Strength in numbers" this skittish rain believes. Usually this kind doesn't really want to bother you, so you may only notice it after walking a block or so and discovering that it's drops have accumulated and are now falling from your cheekbones like tears and driping down your temples like persperation.
Third, there is the kind of rain that the gardener prays for-to quench the ground and wet the tongue's of flowers. This rain releases earth smells and if you stand quitely amidst it with your face to the sky and your mouth open, you too might find yourself feeling quenched, baptized, fresh, alive.
And then there's dead rain, (DR, also known as RIP. You may see RIP on tombstones- a tribute to the ancient greek saying, "rain into pergatory" which was recited at the passing of a loved one. Pergatory, at the time, was a word for the afterworld with no negative connotations). Some people welcome this mirror to their emotions and find it cathartic to a gray disposition. To others, it is heart wrenching. This kind of rain pours down on funereal scenes like a dense shroud. It chills the air drastically and permeates your tightest knit sweaters. It will drench your so called "rain jacket" and with its icy fingers reach deep into your body despite your skin-like a phantom's palm passes through a brick wall. The chill of dead rain is absorbed by your bones where it will settle. You will not warm for hours.
And what about sun showers? Personally this may be my favorite kind of rain. This kind is gentle, sudden and refreshing. The sun still shines yellow and warm and you might not even see the cloud that housed this glittering spray. This rain likes to tickle your skin and play on eyelashes. If rain could laugh, sun showers would give off bubbly little bursts as it hit the ground and conjured rainbows out of nowhere. As soon as it arrives, it is gone.
Obviously there are countless kinds of rain and so far we've uncovered only a few. Contributions to this study are welcome. Please send any discoveries or data to
Emily Schonberg,
c/o Syracuse University in Florence,
Piazza Savonarola, 15
50132, Firenze
Italia
Grazie mille.
Sunday, February 1, 2009
The End of the Light Streak
Most of my expierences in Italy so far have been based on one factor and one factor only: Light.
The day we got here it was gray, and the following weeks remained as lifeless without sunlight in the city. The moment the clouds broke, was the moment the city woke in me for the first time. It was the first moment I felt alive and present in this environment instead of brooding somewhere in my thoughts. In art history we discuss the term: Chiaroscuro-the effect of shading and the portrayal of an object enhanced or more fully realized by the presence of shadow and light. In painting, we practice this technique and seek out postcards to replicate that best describe this effect. And in daily life, with its presence, the dull mustard yellows and the grimy grays suddenly become cool fields of speckled stone and cheering golden walls along the walkways. For four days now, the sky was bare and blue and the sun lit the streets. Today, the rain returned.
Here is a bit of a journal entry I wrote yesterday-
"Today was a beautiful day. I saw sunlight leak through the shutter slats. I saw it glaze the Duomo and the smiling face of Santa Croce. I saw the yellow afternoon light cake the city walls and I saw the shadows climb them until they put the halos of the statues to sleep. I saw, from the corner cafe, the streets fill with night the way water fills a tank. I saw the white cool light of hallogin bulbs kiss the bodies of bottled water and rim a cup with its dried hot chocolate clinging to its sides like fresco paint on a chapel wall-A secco, they call it. The mixture of yellow and white, hot and cool pours from shop windows and glass plated doorways, painting the walkways with inverse shadows of themselves. Today the city soaked in a light that pooled in its corners and tapped on its doors and bade me come outside to see what a spectacle it could perform. Bravo Firenze, bravo."
Poetic and embarrassing I know...but there you go.
The day we got here it was gray, and the following weeks remained as lifeless without sunlight in the city. The moment the clouds broke, was the moment the city woke in me for the first time. It was the first moment I felt alive and present in this environment instead of brooding somewhere in my thoughts. In art history we discuss the term: Chiaroscuro-the effect of shading and the portrayal of an object enhanced or more fully realized by the presence of shadow and light. In painting, we practice this technique and seek out postcards to replicate that best describe this effect. And in daily life, with its presence, the dull mustard yellows and the grimy grays suddenly become cool fields of speckled stone and cheering golden walls along the walkways. For four days now, the sky was bare and blue and the sun lit the streets. Today, the rain returned.
Here is a bit of a journal entry I wrote yesterday-
"Today was a beautiful day. I saw sunlight leak through the shutter slats. I saw it glaze the Duomo and the smiling face of Santa Croce. I saw the yellow afternoon light cake the city walls and I saw the shadows climb them until they put the halos of the statues to sleep. I saw, from the corner cafe, the streets fill with night the way water fills a tank. I saw the white cool light of hallogin bulbs kiss the bodies of bottled water and rim a cup with its dried hot chocolate clinging to its sides like fresco paint on a chapel wall-A secco, they call it. The mixture of yellow and white, hot and cool pours from shop windows and glass plated doorways, painting the walkways with inverse shadows of themselves. Today the city soaked in a light that pooled in its corners and tapped on its doors and bade me come outside to see what a spectacle it could perform. Bravo Firenze, bravo."
Poetic and embarrassing I know...but there you go.
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