Italians mosh pit too?

November 29, 2009

After two days of frantic paper writing, (including an attempt to explain Socratic philosophy in Italian) I escaped with Caroline, Veronika, and two of their Italian friends to a concert at the University of Siena. Nothing like loud music and ridiculous dancing to beat off the research paper blues; I only wish I had known there was a college scene in Siena this whole semester....

American-Imported Yams and the One Italian Turkey

Thursday, November 26, 2009

Halfway through an hour-long meeting that followed the six hours of class that I had sat through starting at 9am, I looked at the clock and grumbled under my breath that this had to be the worst Thanksgiving of my life.

Thursdays are always my hardest days, with two hours of art class taught in Italian sandwiched between 4 hours on the black plague. Throw in a boring meeting and the knowledge that, halfway across the world, all your friends and family are prepping turkeys and making stuffing, and the already difficult Thursday grows particularly painful.

After a small reception at IES, most of our group headed back to my apartment with various dishes for a potluck Thanksgiving. Mom had pulled cranberry sauce and canned yams out of her “Mary Poppins” suitcase during her visit and, at the last moment, we managed to procure the one turkey in all of Siena. We had green beans, roasted vegetables, garlic mashed potatoes, bread, salad, corn, and one group was even ambitious enough to make stuffing.

The kitchen was a bit hectic during preparations and the food was lukewarm, but as we sat around on chairs and sofas and any other available surface eating off of paper plates with plastic utensils, we all agreed that this was an incredibly successful dinner.

Having changed into my much more forgiving sweatpants and a tee-shirt, I sat on the sofa after our feast and reviled in the fact that I still managed a Thanksgiving food coma, even in Italy. A night of American food and guilt-free English speaking was the perfect paper-writing escape.

Before everyone headed out, a small group of us stood around the table and shared what we were most thankful for. I’m not usually one for the classic, cheesy holiday moments, but this one is a memory I will cherish. The food wasn’t perfect, we didn’t have a parade to watch, and I wasn’t with my family, but this Thanksgiving may be the first time I have really understood the holiday. I am, more than ever, truly thankful for what I have; for the opportunity to study abroad, for exceptional roommates, and for so many wonderful things to be anxious to return to. I was proud of our little group for organizing such a wonderful American holiday, and the night will be remembered as one of my favorites in Siena.
Happy Thanksgiving!

Roma

Monday, November 23, 2009

On Friday night, my hard drive crashed, causing me to lose all of my paper research, photos, music, and the small ounce of sanity I had left. But I don’t want to talk about my total computer breakdown, or my temporarily lost (and extremely important) permit to stay forms, or even the fact that this weekend, the stars aligned against me to guarantee that everything that could go wrong, would go wrong. It’s Monday morning and a new week, so I want to talk about the fun I had in Rome.

Saturday morning, Sarah and I woke early and met the IES group at Piazza Gramsci. We arrived in Rome, dropped off our bags at the same hotel in which we stayed on our very first night in Italy, and went to the Vatican Museum. Unfortunately, the Sistine Chapel was closed for unknown reasons, but I did get to see Raphael's "The School of Athens" and I have determined to return to Rome early the day before my flight leaves to see Michelangelo's ceiling.

We had the afternoon to ourselves and my group wandered to St. Peter’s beautiful Basilica and then climbed the Spanish Steps at sunset. As I looked out on the pink and orange Roman skyline, I was finally able to forget about my computer and the Sistine Chapel and my research papers. Finally, for the first time in a long time, I was calm and content and happy to be exactly where I was at that moment.

We headed back to the hotel and met the larger group for dinner at Papi Papi, a cute restaurant with “authentic Roman food.” After stuffing ourselves silly, (as is customary of IES Siena students) we spent the night in a Piazza flanked by 12 bars where we (or maybe just I) danced away our cares.

Sunday morning, we met our tour guide for a walking tour of the Forum. In three and a half hours, our enthusiastic guide took us through the ruins of past palaces and St. Clements basilica, a church built on top of a 4^th century basilica that was built on top of two buildings from the 1^st and 2^nd centuries. The tour was really interesting but ran long, leaving us with an hour and a half before having to catch our bus home. Determined to see as much as I could, I dropped into the Coliseum before hopping on the metro to find Trevi Fountain. Really low on time, Sarah, Mari, and I literally ran to the fountain, threw in our coins, and ran back to the metro. We ran out of our subway stop, sprinted past the hotel to a panini shop, bought lunch, and arrived in the Grand Hotel Palantino a mere 5 minutes late.

My only complaint about Rome is that I didn't have nearly enough time to take it all in.

Work Overload Remedy

Thursday, November 19, 2009

The flight is booked and, in two weeks, I'm escaping papers for a weekend in Spain!

New Olive Oil and Not-so-new Frustrations

Wednesday, November 18, 2009

Warning: I am particularly grumpy this evening. I will attempt to edit my writing so it does not develop into a frustrated rant, but I make no promises of success.

Again, tonight, my apartment is internet-less for the fourth day in a row. This time, however, it shut down mid-research for one of my three 15-page papers I’m working on. (*editing out three paragraphs worth of “if-youre-going-to-prevent-me-from-travelling-during-my-last-month-here-in-Europe-so-that-I-can-prepare-three-huge-research-papers-and-various-presentations-all-due-in-the-same-week-without-an-English-library-in-which-to-research-you-should-at-least-provide-functioning-internet” ranting*)

…Hey, I made no promises….

Though the unreasonable workload and the failure of ANYTHING in my apartment to function properly have made me less than cheery for the past few days, I did go olive picking this morning.

It was a foggy 9am when we took the bus ten minutes outside of the city where, after a straight-uphill hike, we made it to an Agritourismo. The owner gave us a very fast demonstration and then left us to fill two baskets with olives. After a little bit of work and a lot of picture-posing, we walked back to the house where a spread of delicious Tuscan bread covered in the new olive oil awaited us. November begins the time of the “new oil,” a two month period in which the new olive harvest is used to produce the year’s oil. A strange green color, I absolutely tasted the difference between this and other oils I’ve had in the past.

When we returned, we had a little over an hour before our field study that took us to two Piazzas and the Civetta Contrada museum. All I can say is that, the more I am exposed to the Palio obsession and contrada cult culture, the more I’m baffled by it. As Amanda, our director and a Civetta fantatic so blatantly stated, “all this money and all this work…and all the winner gets is a piece of cloth. Siena has been considered vain, crazy, and stupid for the Palio....and it’s probably true.” --- She said it, not me

Siena had 10 good years and they're never going to forget them

Sunday, November 15, 2009

I've spent the entire weekend emersed in Dante's Hell, (and his Purgatory and his Paradise) but I did take a study break to walk to the Piazza where a Medieval festival was being held in celebration of the 700 year anniversary of Siena's constitution. It's not every day that you find an old-fashioned market full of leatherbound books, homemade desserts, knitted wool clothing, and extremely pungent cheese.

Ciao, Mamma!

Thursday, November 12, 2009

I had readied myself for nearly 4 months without seeing my friends, for Halloween without ridiculous costumes, and for Thanksgiving away from home. When I left for Italy, I thought that I wouldn’t hug my mom again until Christmas and I had prepared myself to deal with a completely new environment, completely on my own.

Now, two months into my time Siena, I’ve perfected the art of Skype dates and e-mail updates and I have settled into my new world comfortably. So when Mom asked what I thought about her visiting, I was, in all honesty, a bit reluctant. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to see her. In fact, it was the exact opposite. After having worked so hard to get over my homesickness and to find a routine in Italy, I was worried that a visit from Mom might throw me right back into that lonely, nostalgic feeling that I struggled with during the first few weeks.

Well, I was (partially) right. Just a few hours ago I cried and hugged my mom and felt that same longing for home that made the start of this semester so difficult. But, at the same time, this “so-long” scene was different from the last one in Dulles Airport. This time, I knew that I could (and would) pick myself up, hang out with my new friends, and fall back in love with Italy so much so that these last five weeks would fly by faster than the first eleven did. I realize now that the reason being away from the states is so difficult is because I am lucky enough to have so many wonderful people to come home to. I am homesick right now, but I’m also happy to be here on my warped Italian bed in my dysfunctional Italian apartment with my four fantastic roommates and my creepy stuffed squirrel.

That said, Mom and I had a blast this week. We considered a variety of day trips to nearby cities, but the yucky weather convinced us to stay in Siena. I played hooky on Tuesday and we spent the day shopping, eating, talking with Simonetta, and eventually finding our way to the Tea Room where we each enjoyed a pot of tea and a goodie (though my carrot cake lacked carrots and Mom’s chocolate cake with ginger didn’t have any noticeable ginger…) Wednesday, we got lost in the Market and today we took a cooking class that was virtually a private lesson with an Italian chef. Our four course lunch of crostini, gnocchi, pork, and chocolate cake was probably the best meal we ate during Mom’s trip and it left us absolutely stuffed (but not so stuffed that we didn’t eat giant pizza slices and gelato on the Campo.)

Though we had remarkably terrible luck with the Italian culture (countless restaurants, stores, and cooking classes were closed for the day/week/hour we needed them, causing us to do a lot of unnecessary walking and one ride on the largest escalator in the world to nowhere) and though Mom experienced blisters the size of quarters thanks to all that unnecessary walking, I think we both had a great mini-vacation that made my already surreal semester just a bit more dreamlike.

Now, exhausted after Paris, Pisa, and Mom, I am ready for a quiet weekend in Siena in which I will finally (reluctantly) begin the first of 3 research papers due over the next few weeks. Oh well. I suppose that if I have to do serious work while abroad, the past two weeks were the best, most fun preparation I could hope for.

44 Euros of Gelato

Sunday, November 8, 2009

Just as the post-Paris depression began to sink in, the best possible medicine arrived in Italy on Friday afternoon. Mom made it to Pisa Airport around noon and I took the train after my class to meet her by 4. No matter how old I get and no matter where I may travel, I know that nothing will ever be as comforting as a hug from my mom after months away from home.

We went searching for the only thing in Pisa that really makes the visit worthwhile and took the obligatory tourist photos below before climbing the very leaning tower for a perfect sunset view.

After a difficult descent, Mom followed my sweet-tooth lead and made her first Italian meal a cup of gelato. We wandered and talked and eventually found some real dinner (which, of course, was not nearly as delicious as its predecessor). With a cup of coffee as a night cap, we made our way back to the hotel and crashed into bed, both exhausted from a whirlwind few days.

Saturday morning we were up and on the train early, arriving in Siena before noon to unload the various American goodies, warm clothes, and cans of Thanksgiving food (she brought yams!!!) before checking Mom into Hotel Villa Elda.

I gave her the grand tour of every important Sienese monument (a feat to which travel guide Rick Steve assigns an entire half of a day) before spending hours wandering side streets, back streets, and unending escalators (?) to find the perfect restaurant. We finally settled on a small little place that offered a special pasta dish with white truffle. After having heard so much about this exorbitantly priced fungi and after having failed to find a truffle festival to attend, we thought it fitting to have our first taste of this extraordinary "tartufo bianco." We ordered an identical menu: ribollita, tagliatelle con tartufo, and caffe americano. The ribollita was the perfect way to warm up from the cold, rainy night and the caffe was delicious. The truffle? It was good, but neither of us collapsed in food ecstacy as we had expected.

Earlier in the day we had discovered that my favorite Gelateria (the one with the melt-in-your-mouth, perfectly-prepared and absolutely unmatched tiramisu) was actually open until the 9th of November (originally I had been told it closed on the 1st). Naturally, I had to introduce Mom to my past month's obsession and I have since converted her into a true believer.

We planned on waking early for the 8am mass before getting to Pianella for a bruschetta festival, but the torrential downpour convinced us to sleep in. At 11, my mom experienced her first mass in Siena and I experienced my first mass in the actual Duomo. The entire floor of the cathedral is only exposed for a little over one month every year which is why we've been in the smaller chapel until now. The Duomo is certainly a more striking building in which to experience the mass.

Though I warned her that walking the hilly, cobblestone streets required comfortable footwear, the shoes Mom insisted were comfortable at home made her miserable after only one day of trekking through Siena. Consequently, we spent the morning shopping and finally found a pair of cute, low boots and celebrated with a great cup of coffee and some veggie-packed pizza.

At 7:00, my entire apartment met Mom for dinner at the restaurant San Desiderio. Feeling adventurous, I ordered pasta with wild boar, though all six of us tried every other dish on the table. Everything was delicious and everyone was full, but we could not resist one last night at our favorite Gelateria. After Samanta taught us how to "dine and ditch" Italian style (as the owner listened in) and after the waiter delivered a shot of limoncello to my mom, we wandered back to the Campo where I got my usual chocolate mousse and tiramisu cone. Before leaving, Samanta asked the servers what happened to the leftover gelato and was told that it would be thrown out. The owner, recognizing us as some of her best customers, then packed up four large containers with our favorite flavors. We now have 44 euros worth of free gelato in our freezer-- my guess is it won't make it past Friday.

As I walked with my mom through the Campo she linked arms with me and told me how happy she was that I had gotten so lucky with my roomates-- it is easy to see how well we mesh and she was absolutely right. After all, how many apartments in Tuscany have freezers chock-full of gelato?

Bienvenuto, mamma!

The Italian mamma has landed!

The (very) Extended Version

Tuesday, November 3, 2009

I am tempted to leave my last post as the official “fall break in Paris” post because the one sentence sums up my sentiments pretty accurately. But, I do want a record of the most surreal 5 days of time abroad, so here’s the long version for anyone interested:

Thursday:

After a midterm in the class about the Black Plague that has yet to discuss the Black Plague, I ran back to the apartment to organize myself before catching the 1:20 bus to Pisa Airport. My flight did not leave until after 7 and, by the time I took the sketchy Ryanair shuttle bus from the Beauvais Airport in the boonies to the center of Paris, it was after 11. I stepped off the bus unsure as of where to turn next when I saw three familiar figures walking towards me and was accosted by Tasha.

Will, Andy, Tash, and I headed to our hotel in Montmartre, dropped off our bags, and bought our first outrageously priced French drinks which we nursed, huddled under the space heater outside.

Friday:

The crew woke early and headed down to Notre Dame where I finally saw the famous rose window in person. It was a cold, hazy, and drizzly morning but we still waited in line to climb the narrow, spiral staircase to the bell tower where we got out first look at the whole city (even though the fog limited our view).

We walked away from the cathedral in an attempt to find a reasonably priced lunch and I had my first savory crepe (the thin pancakes quickly became my preferred French cuisine). At 1:00, we met our “New Europe” tour guide who took us on a 3 ½ hour free walking tour through Paris. Around five, we sauntered down the Champs Elysees and walked along the Arc de Triomphe before heading back to the Latin Quarter for the very French dinner of Greek Kabobs.

We bought a few bottles of wine, went back to the hotel, and toasted to a Freeman reunion in Paris. Cheers (to the?) governor!

Saturday:
We woke to blue skies and comparatively warm weather— perfect for exploring the Montmartre area near our hotel, Sacre Coeur, and Moulin Rouge. We bought baguettes, cheese, and fruit and picnicked in the sunshine. As it grew colder, we headed to the metro that took us out of the city and to Versailles. For the most part, I found the palace’s extravagant, ornate rooms to be gaudy and a bit ridiculous, but the overdone decor didn’t detract from its impressiveness. I did love the Hall of Mirrors and the gardens were remarkable; we sat by the water almost until close.

Around six, we headed back into the city and waited in line for over an hour to take the cattle-car elevator ride up the Eiffel Tower. Though it was cold and foggy, the city view was still phenomenal and the fact that I was overlooking Paris with three great friends was a dreamlike experience. Back at the bottom, we booked it to the Latin Quarter where we treated ourselves to real French cuisine at a sit down restaurant. Famished and cold, we took advantage of the “10 euro” menu and inhaled three courses. The night ended with several hours of wandering the streets and repeating, once again, just how surreal the night was.

Sunday:

The first Sunday of the month is a great time to visit Paris because every museum is free. Thanks to a great tip from our tour guide on Friday, we found a back entrance to the Louvre and got into the museum in a matter of minutes. Of course, we found the “Mona Lisa” which was almost impossible to see due to the hundreds of tourists clicking away with their cameras and ignoring the various other impressive works of Leonardo da Vinci on the other side of the room. Next, we headed to the Venus di Milo to complete our list of Louvre “must-sees.” I was excited when we saw “The Raft of the Medusa” and “Liberty Leading the People” and our nerdy little group made sure to document our finds. But the frustrations of an overwhelmingly large museum exacerbated by a mob of thousands of rowdy tourists made the Louvre rather unappealing and we were all happy to make our way out of the maze and back onto the streets.

After wandering in the rain for an unreasonable amount of time, we quickly learned that cheap crepe stands are everywhere, until you need one. We finally found a reasonably priced all-natural, organic café where we warmed up and ate breakfast before walking Andy to the metro so he could catch an early train ride back (hope that International Trade lecture was worth missing out on another 2 days in Paris, Andy).

Down to three, Tasha, Will, and I headed back in the direction of the Musee d’Orsay where we waited in the cold for about an hour before finally gaining entrance. Unlike the Louvre, however, I was willing to wait in line to see this museum. The converted train station is beautiful in itself, the art is more appealing than that in the Louvre, and the size is absolutely more manageable. In a few hours we had toured the whole place and left feeling much more relaxed than we had after our first art escapade of the morning.

That night we returned to our oh-so-French Greek kabob joint for dinner and then to a friendly, French “Irish pub” for drinks.

Monday:
Having originally considered taking a day trip to Normandy on Monday, the yucky weather and high cost caused us to remain in Paris for one last day in the City of Lights.

The sky was blue and the weather was beautiful when we first woke up, so we headed back to the Eiffel Tower for a day time tourist photo shoot. Afterwards, we found Napoleon’s tomb and, even though the inside was closed, I was sufficiently impressed with his final resting place.

We sauntered over to the “Shakespeare and Company” bookstore where Joyce, Hemmingway, and Fitzgerald spent their time writing and reading. In the back and up the stairs you’ll find several cozy nooks dwarfed by piles of books that are not for sale but solely for reading and, next to them, a piano for anyone with a bit of talent to practice or entertain. My favorite part, however, was the tiny desk area with a typewriter and paper, covered in quotes, thoughts, poems, and professions of love written by visitors from all over the world.

We attempted another “French” lunch of baguettes and cheese, but the cold and spitting rain and the prematurely expired cheese made this attempt less successful than the first. Again, we were forced to find shelter in a café where we loaded up on more French coffee before going searching for the Pantheon.

Hoping to use my Italian visa for free entry, I was disappointed that I had to fork up 5 euro to enter. The frustration subsided, however, when I realized just how many remarkable men are buried in the crypt. Voltaire, Rousseau, Hugo, and Dumas share this burial ground, along with the hearts of various other famous Frenchmen (and women).

We left the crypt as the sun and blue skies returned just in time for us to find the spectacular Luxembourg Gardens. Maybe it was the weather or maybe it was just the fact that our Paris trip was coming to an end, but I found these gardens to be the most beautiful of all we had seen in France. We spent several hours in practical silence, people watching and enjoying each other’s company until the cold numbed our feet and our hands.

We returned to the Latin Quarter for another 10 euro dinner before one last stroll around the Seine. Cold, exhausted, and full, we took the metro back to our side of town and walked up several intense flights of stairs to Sacre Coeur where we were rewarded with a phenomenal view of the city at night.

Strolling through Montmartre, we found a restaurant overlooking the square full of portrait artists and we each bought one final glass of wine to celebrate our last night together. As we sat outside (under the space heater, of course) watching the artists, smelling the food, and sipping our wine, we came to the realization that now, more than halfway through our semester abroad, we’re utterly overwhelmed by the idea of growing up and terrified by the speed with which time has flown. But in those last few hours in that truly magical ambiance, the fears I have about the future were displaced by the excitement of the present. I will forever cherish the memory of that last night in Montmartre.

Ah, Paris!

Fall break in Paris with Tasha, Andy, and Will: quite possibly the best weekend of my life.