Friday was full of firsts for me: train ride, hostel stay, and travel within Italy (outside of school trips). I was going with my new friend Darcy who I met in Ravenna last weekend. We met at school at noon and then walked to Santa Maria Novella train station. It was so easy to ride the train! There are a bunch of self service kiosks where you just have to pick a destination and then use a credit card to buy a ticket. The train ride was about two and a half hours long which I spent talking with Darcy and reading my book. Once we got there, we bought bus tickets because we were staying at a Farmhouse hostel in the outskirts of Perugia. The hostel was suggested my Darcy’s friends and even though it was a twenty minute bus ride from the center it was well worth it! Plus it was only twenty euro a night for a private room. We got on the bus…going the wrong way (for the first time). So we ended up riding it to the end of the line (for about twenty minutes) and then it turned around and we rode it for about forty more minutes. It was a great way to see the city! Like a one euro tour guide! When we were at the end of the line, I told the driver where we were going, and he just laughed and told us to stay on the bus. When the bus stop came, he turned around to tell us to get off and told us where to walk. Seriously, again, the Italian men being extremely helpful. In Peruiga (unlike Florence) not EVERYONE speaks English so I managed to do this in Italian. The hostel was so cute! It was a farmhouse with goats, geese, and chicken. There was a big kitchen/living room and then four private rooms with a bathroom on the second floor. On the first floor, there was a tv, pool table, and a general hang out room with a few more rooms. The first people we met were a fabulous family of four. We did the basics…what’s your name? How long are you staying? Where are you from? And guess what…the family is from WEST SEATTLE!! Finally, some normal northwest people ;). Even better, the mom, Kathy grew up in Tacoma and went to Mt. Tahoma and then Foss. They spent the week before in UNIVERISTY PLACE (my hometown which is a small suburb of Tacoma) where the dad’s parents lived. Also, they asked me if I happened to be in the 8th grade class that did the wonderful sculptures on the corner of Bridgeport and Chambers Creek. Of course I exclaimed, I MADE THE TREE TRUNK!!! And then Randy (the dad) pulled out his kids sketches of our 8th grade art project totems. I made my tree trunk in the most recent art class I have taken (in eighth grade—seven years ago) so obviously I was surprised how well known my first publicly displayed work was ;). This family was absolutely amazing. They were traveling for TEN MONTHS! As a family, the two children were ages 13 and 9 but were so mature. I usually don’t like kids…so it says a lot that I liked these ones! The parents were absolutely amazing they were “home-schooling” there kids as they traveled around the country. Starting in Italy and France and going to all these western European countries and then eastern European countries and then the Middle East.
One of the other guys we befriended immediately was Nigel from Australia. He was a wine maker and was just taking a one month vacation and was going to travel around Europe for a while. He was really interesting and used to work in the Willamette valley and also in Romania making wine. Nigel was friendly, outgoing, talkative, funny, and very entertaining and cute too (of course). But, really, most importantly, he made wine! Apparently, all these amazing guys are just hanging out in Europe waiting for me.
At night, Darcy and I went out with the owner of the hostel Manuela and his girlfriend Laura and their friend Christian. By the way, Laura is from Pennsylvania and went to college in Allentown—her brother also goes to Temple (where my Mom used to work). Small world. Christian was absolutely obsessed with Sly Family Stone and would not shut up about it when he found out that I actually had heard of them. He was actually obsessed with like Motown to funk so we talked about that a lot. They took us to the center of town and we parked in a parking garage and then took like a series of five escalators up to the center. There are so many people (seemed even busier than Florence) and everyone just drinks outside. It’s also much, much colder than it is in Florence (and I was not prepared for this). But that doesn’t seem to affect anyone because people aren’t in bars. It was also very nice, because the predominant language spoken at night is actually Italian! Which isn’t that surprising because we are in Italy but in Florence, English is pretty widely spoken at all times of the day. There was also way less of an American presence, there are lots of Italians but also lots of foreigners from all around Europe and Asia (there is an Italian university and a university for Foreigners). The first night was kind of boring because we were tired and felt obligated to hang out with the native Perugians who drove us there…but we did meet a few cool people. My grandma e-mailed me after my last post and said that she and her husband got questioned about their nationality all the time in Europe and that is now happening to me…anytime I got remotely comfortable with someone I met (i.e. three times this night), they would say “you don’t look American. What’s your nationality?” So America, I am showing Europe your new face.
In the morning, we headed into town with the wonderful Seattle family and Nigel. We got off the bus a little late (not shocking as our record with busses does not get better) and then we went toward the town. We split up with the family and then Nigel, Darcy, and I walked around the center. We had some lunch and split a bottle of Umbrian wine (of course) and I had some Umbrian lasagna. My food and the wine was excellent and so was the company. Nigel is so funny and interesting. He also speaks Italian conversationally which is helpful. Oh and he used to make wine in the Willamette valley so we bonded further! Then for dessert, we of course had to have chocolate! Perugia is famous for its chocolate! We went to the base store of Perugina which is the big Nestle owned chocolate factory in town. Oh man, then we started eating chocolate. I got some milk chocolate and dark chocolate. We walked to the viewpoint of the city and then ate chocolate. I ate my entire bar. It was awesome. So good! I don’t really know what else we did because it was just so casual and relaxed. We walked down some old streets and past old buildings. Then we went to a really good wine store where the wine was very cheap, supposedly at producer prices. I bought a bottle for the afternoon. It was already around four so we decided to try and figure out how to take a bus back to the hostel. That only took us an hour or so…but we did get on going the right way! In the afternoon, I shared my fabulous red wine with hostel folk and learned more about them. Then Darcy and I went back to the center…and got on the bus going the wrong way again! Haha. Then we went to dinner and a few bars. The night was pretty uneventful but Perugia is about twice as cheap as Florence.
Sunday, it was finally time to go home! Even though we were in Perugia for such a short time it felt like we made a family with the Seattle people and Nigel. It was so sad to leave them, but I got all there information and hopefully I will be meeting up with Nigel in a week or so when he comes to Florence and with the Seattle family this summer when they come back from their ten month journey! We left the hostel at 10:45 to get the 11:08 bus…and not surprisingly we got on the bus going the wrong way and ended up riding it for an extra forty minutes! I think we did this three times total while riding the bus only four times… I was merely amused by this fact and happy that we weren’t in any rush to leave. And surprise, guess who shows up on our bus? Fabulous Seattle Family, Nigel, and other hostel person—they were going to Assisi for the afternoon and were headed to the train station too. The bus ride was really fun because we got to talk to them more and I knew everyone on the entire bus! We then had lunch with the hostel group before our trains left. I had ripped my jacket earlier that morning and was slightly devastated. I casually brought this up at lunch, and fabulous Seattle Mom said she had a sewing kit (also antibacterial ointment, band aids, tissues—so prepared), and then she offered to sew it. This act truly epitomized how I felt about my new Perugia family. It was so nice to be in a family setting, I didn’t even mind the kids! And then Kathy sewed the rip in my jacket during lunch! It was a great end to my first weekend trip.
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Thursday, September 25, 2008
Learning the Language
So my two hour Italian class hasn’t been quite as enthralling as I hoped although it is getting much better. I decided I needed to take other steps to learn the language. I have many valuable resources at hand… (obviously) since I am living in Italy. At home, my mama continues to speak English to us. I wish she wouldn’t but that is partially because I am tired of understanding what she says and I think there would be a nice peace to only picking up on a few of her Italian words and phrases. Plus my roommate is in Italian IV and we speak about the same amount of Italian at home so I want learn more from her. I’ll get around to doing this sometime…
I can speak in all Italian when I am at a restaurant. How shocking: I have food and ordering terms down. When the waiter asks me a question, I am usually able to answer even if it takes me a second. So I am pretty comfortable speaking with daily occurrences. I am just struggling a little bit with deeper conversation—which is when you actually get to know people. Syracuse puts on a “Spazione Conversationale”—I am not sure what that means but they invite “young” people who are learning English to talk with us learning Italian. I went on Tuesday and there were about twenty Syracuse students and about fifteen Italians. I used young with quotations because I would be the average age was twenty five. Not that is not young, but it isn’t high school/college aged as advertised. Haha. Spazione helped a little bit but it was just like talking to any old Italian on the street. I also started off the evening with a young Italian telling me I had a beautiful face and asking me if I was Mexican (I get this a lot). When I replied no, he asked “what was I”. I usually don’t like answering this question because I wonder about the intent but you know Italians have different cultural values blah blah so I just said I was half black and half white. Then here it comes…
“No, not HALF black. Maybe a quarter?”
“No, my mom is full black.”
“No, no maybe your mom is ½ black? You must be whiter than you are black.”
“Nope, I am half black. You know we come in all shades and colors just like you people”
I think he got the hint there because he stopped talking to me. I am not using this example as anything against Italians because this has happened more than once in America I just want to highlight the moronic and ignorant tendencies of people who claim to know more about your own race than you yourself do. I mean it is quite ridiculous when you think about it. Do you ever ask that can’t really be your dad, he is just too tall, are you sure your mom wasn’t fooling around with the milk man?
Anyway, back to learning Italian. My final and most valuable resource is the vital Italian friend who speaks English but is obviously more comfortable with Italian. I learned this from Elizabeth Gilbert's Eat, Pray, Love where she and her friend Sophie have twin Italian boys from Rome who helped them learn the language and culture and eventually develop a friendship. If living in Italy, I strongly advise to find un ragazzo italiano (an Italian boy) to help you learn. I met mine last week at a Beatles’ cover band show. He is great, makes fun of my Italian a lot, but not in a bad way but better described as an inspiration to learn. His English is pretty good so we mainly talk in that but insert some basic Italian phrases every once in a while. Also, when we go out I’ll learn new vocabulary! On Sunday, we went to apertivo at Kitsch (a restaurant/bar) which is near my house. Apertivo is an Italian custom of drinks and appetizers before dinner—except you usually skip dinner in young people’s case. It is 7.50 Euro (about $11 American) for the appetizers and then we had red wine for fifteen euro a piece—but it was really good wine. Apertivo is really fun the bar was packed but we sat on the outside patio watching the people walk by. We mainly talked about boring things—my family, when I told him my brother worked for Microsoft he said “what’s the word, ‘nerd’?” I was like you have no idea I am such a bigger nerd than my big brother. I also tried to explain what a sorority was…which was more complicated that I thought it would be. I used something like a group of girls in a college but also in colleges all over the country. But there all my best friends and we do community service and umm plan parties.
Yesterday, we went to the Italian cinema which was quite the cultural experience. We saw “Burn After Reading” with Brad Pitt and George Clooney of course it was dubbed in Italian. First, we ate pizza well actually I drank water because I just had one of Mama’s massive meals. He had pizza with french fries on top—can you say, ew? I did try it, and I thought it was weird. We studied for my Italian quiz the next day on verbs, adjectives, and describing an apartment. It was fun conjugating verbs over pizza. I also learned new vocabulary of the movie theater. The movie theater was huge with twenty four screens. Italian cinemas work a little differently than their American equivalent because when you buy your ticket you get assigned a seat. It was strange because it was so orderly and efficient and therefore unitalian to me. I saw some interesting previews for Mamma Mia and Changeling (Angelina Jolie). American movies usually take a few months to come out here (Tropic Thunder comes out in October). Once the movie started, I was surprised that I actually could follow along but when I would get lost I just requested a brief summary translation. But, what women really pay attention to what George Clooney and Brad Pitt are saying anyway? The movie was a little weird. I want to see it in English just to clarify some parts of the plot.
Anyway, I aced my Italian quiz so I was glad I chose the less conventional way of studying. Also, just a fun fact about where I am writing this post. I am at an Italian Laundromat. I got a little stain on my sheets (homework in bed is hard) and I knew my mama would freak out so I snuck out of the house with my sheets shoved in my backpack pretending I was going to school when I actually went to the Laundromat. I had to sneak out because even though she would freak out if she saw the stain she would freak out even more if I attempted to wash it. The great Italian paradox. But, being me, and wanting to solve my problems on my own, I decided deception was the way to go. And so far, it works!
I can speak in all Italian when I am at a restaurant. How shocking: I have food and ordering terms down. When the waiter asks me a question, I am usually able to answer even if it takes me a second. So I am pretty comfortable speaking with daily occurrences. I am just struggling a little bit with deeper conversation—which is when you actually get to know people. Syracuse puts on a “Spazione Conversationale”—I am not sure what that means but they invite “young” people who are learning English to talk with us learning Italian. I went on Tuesday and there were about twenty Syracuse students and about fifteen Italians. I used young with quotations because I would be the average age was twenty five. Not that is not young, but it isn’t high school/college aged as advertised. Haha. Spazione helped a little bit but it was just like talking to any old Italian on the street. I also started off the evening with a young Italian telling me I had a beautiful face and asking me if I was Mexican (I get this a lot). When I replied no, he asked “what was I”. I usually don’t like answering this question because I wonder about the intent but you know Italians have different cultural values blah blah so I just said I was half black and half white. Then here it comes…
“No, not HALF black. Maybe a quarter?”
“No, my mom is full black.”
“No, no maybe your mom is ½ black? You must be whiter than you are black.”
“Nope, I am half black. You know we come in all shades and colors just like you people”
I think he got the hint there because he stopped talking to me. I am not using this example as anything against Italians because this has happened more than once in America I just want to highlight the moronic and ignorant tendencies of people who claim to know more about your own race than you yourself do. I mean it is quite ridiculous when you think about it. Do you ever ask that can’t really be your dad, he is just too tall, are you sure your mom wasn’t fooling around with the milk man?
Anyway, back to learning Italian. My final and most valuable resource is the vital Italian friend who speaks English but is obviously more comfortable with Italian. I learned this from Elizabeth Gilbert's Eat, Pray, Love where she and her friend Sophie have twin Italian boys from Rome who helped them learn the language and culture and eventually develop a friendship. If living in Italy, I strongly advise to find un ragazzo italiano (an Italian boy) to help you learn. I met mine last week at a Beatles’ cover band show. He is great, makes fun of my Italian a lot, but not in a bad way but better described as an inspiration to learn. His English is pretty good so we mainly talk in that but insert some basic Italian phrases every once in a while. Also, when we go out I’ll learn new vocabulary! On Sunday, we went to apertivo at Kitsch (a restaurant/bar) which is near my house. Apertivo is an Italian custom of drinks and appetizers before dinner—except you usually skip dinner in young people’s case. It is 7.50 Euro (about $11 American) for the appetizers and then we had red wine for fifteen euro a piece—but it was really good wine. Apertivo is really fun the bar was packed but we sat on the outside patio watching the people walk by. We mainly talked about boring things—my family, when I told him my brother worked for Microsoft he said “what’s the word, ‘nerd’?” I was like you have no idea I am such a bigger nerd than my big brother. I also tried to explain what a sorority was…which was more complicated that I thought it would be. I used something like a group of girls in a college but also in colleges all over the country. But there all my best friends and we do community service and umm plan parties.
Yesterday, we went to the Italian cinema which was quite the cultural experience. We saw “Burn After Reading” with Brad Pitt and George Clooney of course it was dubbed in Italian. First, we ate pizza well actually I drank water because I just had one of Mama’s massive meals. He had pizza with french fries on top—can you say, ew? I did try it, and I thought it was weird. We studied for my Italian quiz the next day on verbs, adjectives, and describing an apartment. It was fun conjugating verbs over pizza. I also learned new vocabulary of the movie theater. The movie theater was huge with twenty four screens. Italian cinemas work a little differently than their American equivalent because when you buy your ticket you get assigned a seat. It was strange because it was so orderly and efficient and therefore unitalian to me. I saw some interesting previews for Mamma Mia and Changeling (Angelina Jolie). American movies usually take a few months to come out here (Tropic Thunder comes out in October). Once the movie started, I was surprised that I actually could follow along but when I would get lost I just requested a brief summary translation. But, what women really pay attention to what George Clooney and Brad Pitt are saying anyway? The movie was a little weird. I want to see it in English just to clarify some parts of the plot.
Anyway, I aced my Italian quiz so I was glad I chose the less conventional way of studying. Also, just a fun fact about where I am writing this post. I am at an Italian Laundromat. I got a little stain on my sheets (homework in bed is hard) and I knew my mama would freak out so I snuck out of the house with my sheets shoved in my backpack pretending I was going to school when I actually went to the Laundromat. I had to sneak out because even though she would freak out if she saw the stain she would freak out even more if I attempted to wash it. The great Italian paradox. But, being me, and wanting to solve my problems on my own, I decided deception was the way to go. And so far, it works!
Monday, September 22, 2008
Second Week of Class
I have just completed my second week of school and my third week in Italy. I would like to say I am starting to get a hang of things but that would be a vicious lie. I am learning more about what my classes will be like. That is for sure. Here is a brief summary:
Art History: My professor quotes Vasari like an evangelical quotes the Bible
Architecture: I had no idea I signed up for an architecture class that is worthy of giving a grad student credit.
Italian: Mi chiamo Sarah. Sono Americana di Seattle. Come stai? Ho venti anni. Sono intelligente. La lezione e facile.
Photography: WE SPENT TWO HOURS “LEARNING” HOW TO UPLOAD PHOTOS ONTO A MAC AND CREATE FOLDERS!! TWO HOURS. Anyone who knows how to use a computer well can do this in five minutes and anyone who knows me knows how frustrated I would be for the rest of the class.
So, my classes so far haven’t turned out to be quite as stimulating as most of my previous classes at Whitman.
I am also getting used to or maybe just getting frustrated with how things work in Italy which is to say inefficiently. Lines don’t really have a purpose. Italians get served before Americans. Prices change. You have to ask for the check like three times and then carefully review it for mistakes. My two Italian professors explain things in the same way repeatedly. I’m also getting kind of annoyed with my host mom. I guess she is looking out for me and is like typical Italian mothers but she just kind of nags at me like a stereotypical mom does (I’ve never had to deal with that). She like makes me change my outfit if she thinks I don’t look warm enough, finish everything on my plate and on the entire dinner table, wants us to keep our room a certain way. It is her house and I am grateful she is letting us stay here (she does get a very fair sum of money however). Italian men are my favorite people so far in this country. They are not creepy or very forward like everyone worried about. They stare but that’s about it—they don’t approach or just say “ciao”. They definitely are the most helpful people I have met—anytime I’m lost and am looking for a street I can just ask an Italian guy and they are always willing to help (this is not the case with young or old Italian women). I guess this is the stage of culture shock when you move past euphoria to frustration and rejection. I wonder what the next stage will be?
Art History: My professor quotes Vasari like an evangelical quotes the Bible
Architecture: I had no idea I signed up for an architecture class that is worthy of giving a grad student credit.
Italian: Mi chiamo Sarah. Sono Americana di Seattle. Come stai? Ho venti anni. Sono intelligente. La lezione e facile.
Photography: WE SPENT TWO HOURS “LEARNING” HOW TO UPLOAD PHOTOS ONTO A MAC AND CREATE FOLDERS!! TWO HOURS. Anyone who knows how to use a computer well can do this in five minutes and anyone who knows me knows how frustrated I would be for the rest of the class.
So, my classes so far haven’t turned out to be quite as stimulating as most of my previous classes at Whitman.
I am also getting used to or maybe just getting frustrated with how things work in Italy which is to say inefficiently. Lines don’t really have a purpose. Italians get served before Americans. Prices change. You have to ask for the check like three times and then carefully review it for mistakes. My two Italian professors explain things in the same way repeatedly. I’m also getting kind of annoyed with my host mom. I guess she is looking out for me and is like typical Italian mothers but she just kind of nags at me like a stereotypical mom does (I’ve never had to deal with that). She like makes me change my outfit if she thinks I don’t look warm enough, finish everything on my plate and on the entire dinner table, wants us to keep our room a certain way. It is her house and I am grateful she is letting us stay here (she does get a very fair sum of money however). Italian men are my favorite people so far in this country. They are not creepy or very forward like everyone worried about. They stare but that’s about it—they don’t approach or just say “ciao”. They definitely are the most helpful people I have met—anytime I’m lost and am looking for a street I can just ask an Italian guy and they are always willing to help (this is not the case with young or old Italian women). I guess this is the stage of culture shock when you move past euphoria to frustration and rejection. I wonder what the next stage will be?
Sunday, September 14, 2008
Assisi
I visited beautiful Assisi today as my first all-school field trip. We have different day and overnight field trips offered every weekend through Syracuse University. Its nice to go on these trips because they leave from campus (five minute walk), are “free” (included in our tuition), and have great tours. Most of the tours are lead my grad students in the fields related to what were learning about. Assisi is a strange town because of its simplicity and modesty contrasted by the ornate Basilica of Saint Francis. The town is small, built onto a hill. The facades of all the buildings are pink, brown, or grey. The town is most known for the birthplace of Saint Francis and the town structure aligns with Saint Francis beliefs in the virtues of humility and modesty. However, at the edge of the town, sitting on the hill overlooking the glorious countryside below lies the tomb of Saint Francis and the Basilica of Saint Francis. Saint Francis died in 1226 and was canonized in 1228 (one of the quickest people to ever be made a saint), construction on the basilica began immediately in 1228.
We walked to the entrance of the basilica (there were about 120 people altogether and then we broke into four groups of three). We went through the guards who made sure we were dressed appropriately. I silently scoffed as the girls in my program were like “WHAT, I can’t wear shorts?? My tank top is fine!! Why didn’t they tell us about this?” But, we eventually all made it through after people lent jackets and sweaters to inappropriate dressed people. The basilica is immense with a lower and upper section. The upper section is decorated with frescos (paintings) from floor to ceiling. There is so much color, decoration, it is almost overwhelming. This is a stark contrast to the life of Saint Francis. But I didn’t mind because it was one of the most beautiful churches I have ever seen. There were like a story line of frescos depicting the life of Saint Francis that may or may not have been Giotto (who really cares? But art historians get fired up about this). We walked through the church admiring the beautiful artwork—there were many groups of nuns and monks who were on pilgrimages here. The guards continually yelled “silenizio” over the loud speaker which in my opinion did nothing to help the sound level.
The lower basilica looks a little bit more like Saint Francis’ style. Dark—there is not a lot of natural light. Simple, there are a few frescos that adorn the wall but not in the same manner and as ostentatious as in the upper basilica. Chapels align the borders of the nave. I walked down one of the staircases to see the tomb of Saint Francis. It was kind of eerie yet strangely powerful. His tomb was in a dark room with candles surrounding it and a few pews for people to sit and pray.
Nothing else much to do in Assisi. The church of Saint Clara (Santa Clara) was beautiful but I should have gone there first because it looked like a shack compared to Saint Francis’ church.
Oh, but of course there was food. Truffles are the specialty of Assisi so of course I had to try them. I went to a restaurant recommended by a local working at a wine store. I had truffle bruschetta which was great. Then penne with truffles and mushrooms in a cream sauce which was rich, delicious, and very filling. I also have a wonderful Rosé which was crisp and refreshing because it was so hot outside.
Then back to Florence! I had a wonderful night; it was my first restaurant experience in Florence. I went to Osteria d’Benci (recommended by the wonderful Jocelyn and Food Lover’s Guide to Florence) and ordered the drunken noodles (spaghetti noodles boiled in red wine) and a cheese plate. It was so good! I sat outside but it started raining so that was no fun, but we scooted closer under the tent and it was fine. The best part of the night was that I met some really cool Italians at the restaurant: Alexander, Alessio, and Gisella. Alessio was extremely gay and worked for Dolce & Gabbana in Milan and was just visiting. Alexander lived here. We went to a gay bar with them (I guess there are gay bars in Florence). And it was a lot of fun, I broke my fast and had a Long Island Iced Tea, and then talked with my new Italian friends and danced around. Then we went to Twice which is this hip dance club but there was a really long line. We started walking toward the beginning (I didn’t know why I was just following), but of course our Florentine friend knows the bouncer so we don’t have to wait at all! It was nice feeling like a V.I.P. haha. Then we got a table and ended up sitting next to these two American soldiers stationed in Italy, the three Italians, and me and my other American friend. It was so fun with fantastic conversation and the guys fighting over who would buy the next round of drinks. It started pouring down rain and I took a taxi home at 2 am. Fantastic.
We walked to the entrance of the basilica (there were about 120 people altogether and then we broke into four groups of three). We went through the guards who made sure we were dressed appropriately. I silently scoffed as the girls in my program were like “WHAT, I can’t wear shorts?? My tank top is fine!! Why didn’t they tell us about this?” But, we eventually all made it through after people lent jackets and sweaters to inappropriate dressed people. The basilica is immense with a lower and upper section. The upper section is decorated with frescos (paintings) from floor to ceiling. There is so much color, decoration, it is almost overwhelming. This is a stark contrast to the life of Saint Francis. But I didn’t mind because it was one of the most beautiful churches I have ever seen. There were like a story line of frescos depicting the life of Saint Francis that may or may not have been Giotto (who really cares? But art historians get fired up about this). We walked through the church admiring the beautiful artwork—there were many groups of nuns and monks who were on pilgrimages here. The guards continually yelled “silenizio” over the loud speaker which in my opinion did nothing to help the sound level.
The lower basilica looks a little bit more like Saint Francis’ style. Dark—there is not a lot of natural light. Simple, there are a few frescos that adorn the wall but not in the same manner and as ostentatious as in the upper basilica. Chapels align the borders of the nave. I walked down one of the staircases to see the tomb of Saint Francis. It was kind of eerie yet strangely powerful. His tomb was in a dark room with candles surrounding it and a few pews for people to sit and pray.
Nothing else much to do in Assisi. The church of Saint Clara (Santa Clara) was beautiful but I should have gone there first because it looked like a shack compared to Saint Francis’ church.
Oh, but of course there was food. Truffles are the specialty of Assisi so of course I had to try them. I went to a restaurant recommended by a local working at a wine store. I had truffle bruschetta which was great. Then penne with truffles and mushrooms in a cream sauce which was rich, delicious, and very filling. I also have a wonderful Rosé which was crisp and refreshing because it was so hot outside.
Then back to Florence! I had a wonderful night; it was my first restaurant experience in Florence. I went to Osteria d’Benci (recommended by the wonderful Jocelyn and Food Lover’s Guide to Florence) and ordered the drunken noodles (spaghetti noodles boiled in red wine) and a cheese plate. It was so good! I sat outside but it started raining so that was no fun, but we scooted closer under the tent and it was fine. The best part of the night was that I met some really cool Italians at the restaurant: Alexander, Alessio, and Gisella. Alessio was extremely gay and worked for Dolce & Gabbana in Milan and was just visiting. Alexander lived here. We went to a gay bar with them (I guess there are gay bars in Florence). And it was a lot of fun, I broke my fast and had a Long Island Iced Tea, and then talked with my new Italian friends and danced around. Then we went to Twice which is this hip dance club but there was a really long line. We started walking toward the beginning (I didn’t know why I was just following), but of course our Florentine friend knows the bouncer so we don’t have to wait at all! It was nice feeling like a V.I.P. haha. Then we got a table and ended up sitting next to these two American soldiers stationed in Italy, the three Italians, and me and my other American friend. It was so fun with fantastic conversation and the guys fighting over who would buy the next round of drinks. It started pouring down rain and I took a taxi home at 2 am. Fantastic.
Thursday, September 11, 2008
Existential Pizza
Finally on a recommendation from my wonderful friend Jocelyn, I went out to look for Spero Pizzeria. I am done with classes on Monday and Wednesday at 1:00 which basically means I can have fabulous lunches. David (my modern map) helped me locate Spero which is just outside the city walls a little less than a mile from campus. It was a beautiful day and a great walk that just increased my appetite. I arrived at Spero Pizzeria and ordered at the counter then went down the stairs where there was a small room that could fit probably about twenty people. Everyone there was Italian and the woman who took my order didn’t speak much English (I did my best to order in Italian), but those are two very good signs. I ordered quickly because I felt pressured—I knew I wanted a tomato based pizza so I just ordered the special which was tomato, mozzarella, basil, ham, and zucchini (I have to eat my vegetables somehow…). I sat down and looked over at my neighbors to notice their huge personal pizza (probably a little wider than a Frisbee and a tad bit thicker). However, I still ordered a birre—it was a long walk. That was a mistake; I wish I could fully focus on eating my pizza and not about the Beck’s in my stomach. Anyway, my pizza came in about ten minutes.
The pizza was steaming hot when it came out and I was a little overwhelmed when it was placed in front of me. I paused, took a deep breath, then reached for my camera and snapped a picture. I grabbed my knife and fork and cut into the pizza, I learned this is how you eat this way from observation. In the first bite I could taste the fresh, juicy tomatoes used as the base of the sauce. The crust was a perfect: soft, chewy, doughy, thick, yet crispy. The crust seemed to achieve the optimal balance between crispy and chewy. The pizza was then piled with thin strips of ham, large, full cooked leaves of basil, and big chunks of zucchini, making it at least half an inch thick. While I was eating I had to pull my hair back because it was so hot and it was almost a physical excursion, one might even say a quest, to eat this pizza. I looked around next to me and the other Italian diners were elegantly eating their pizza with a fork and knife and carefully placing small pieces into their mouth. I, however, could not control myself after the first few bites and started tearing pieces and shoving hem into my mouth. Then I started my habitual routine, when I encounter fine cuisine, of closing my eyes (in order to fully savor the food) and murmuring sounds of utter glee.
No wonder it was voted best pizza in the world a few years ago!
The pizza was steaming hot when it came out and I was a little overwhelmed when it was placed in front of me. I paused, took a deep breath, then reached for my camera and snapped a picture. I grabbed my knife and fork and cut into the pizza, I learned this is how you eat this way from observation. In the first bite I could taste the fresh, juicy tomatoes used as the base of the sauce. The crust was a perfect: soft, chewy, doughy, thick, yet crispy. The crust seemed to achieve the optimal balance between crispy and chewy. The pizza was then piled with thin strips of ham, large, full cooked leaves of basil, and big chunks of zucchini, making it at least half an inch thick. While I was eating I had to pull my hair back because it was so hot and it was almost a physical excursion, one might even say a quest, to eat this pizza. I looked around next to me and the other Italian diners were elegantly eating their pizza with a fork and knife and carefully placing small pieces into their mouth. I, however, could not control myself after the first few bites and started tearing pieces and shoving hem into my mouth. Then I started my habitual routine, when I encounter fine cuisine, of closing my eyes (in order to fully savor the food) and murmuring sounds of utter glee.
No wonder it was voted best pizza in the world a few years ago!
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
First Days of Class
So today was the first day of class! Hooray! Just like going to the first day of school, I got up extra early, took a shower, put on a nice dress. Mama always sets the table for us before she goes to bed and puts out cereal, bread, jam, and cookies for breakfast. I had the amazing homemade blackberry jam on bread and some yogurt too then headed to the epic five minute walk to school. Students in my program live from five minutes walking to a forty-five minute bus ride. However, the home stays that are farther away tend to be larger homes with perks like wireless internet!
My first class was Art and Identity in Renaissance Italy with Professor Jonathan Nelson. He was suggested by a fellow whittie so I knew he could not be too bad. The class is so interesting! It is somewhat similar to a course I’ve already taken in Renaissance Art with Dennis Crockett but this class will be focused more on Florence and more on paintings. Professor Nelson has blue eyes that sparkle even behind his spectacles and he calls me Sarah D (we have three Sarahs in the class…thank you again for your creativity Mom & Dad). I think I am really going to enjoy this class. He demands a lot out of his students has he frequently called on us during class and it was actually a dialogue (instead of a professor saying it’s a dialogue and then talking at the class the whole time). He is a little arrogant (as all art historians/college professors seem to be) and he assigned one of his newly published books in our reading material. My favorite part of this class is that about half of the classes are in the classroom while the other is at various sites around the city. We also have “mandatory” field trips to both Venice and Rome. I don’t think they have to make these mandatory, actually I would like to see them to stop me from going. Apparently, in Rome we get a private tour of the Sistine Chapel. I have also already made plans with my friend Becca to stay in Venice for an extra day and explore the city.
My next class was Italian…probably the most directly relevant class and also the most frequent (two hours a day, four times a week). My professor’s name was Constanti which was a good sign because as you may or may not know I am a big believer in a name and Constantino is the surname of a very good friend. However, once I reached the classroom which was on the third floor in a building across from the main campus, I was overcome by gloom. I think the idea of taking a language class brought my memories back to the dull days of high school Spanish class. So I just sat there in class as we went over the basics—Mi chiamo Sarah, Come ti chiami? You can guess what that means. We did this for 90 minutes. Then we did numbers for 30 minutes. The teacher actually asked me to smile, when was the last time a teacher asked me to smile? Probably the dull days of high school. Anyway, I actually did like our teacher she is like an Italian version of my favorite Spanish teacher from high school (who can best be summed up as extremely animated). On a side note, the second and third days of class haven’t got much better or harder. This is hard for me to believe of myself, but I cannot believe how easy our Italian class is. We really need to expedite the learning process here because my mama and I just had a conversation on how she needs to stop speaking English and only speak Italian. Ahh.
On the second day, I had my two other classes. The first was Renaissance Architecture in Italy. I am excited for this class because I know some little about Architecture technically I thought it would be a nice accompaniment to Art and Identity which mostly focuses on frescos. However, I learned today that this class is listed as not only a fine arts class but also as an architecture course. I am not really sure how this works because supposedly it’s an introductory course but there are architecture undergrads and graduate students in this class! I don’t know who I can compete with them (actually I’m sure I’ll figure it out). Architecture is similar to my art history class as half of our classes are in the classroom and half are around Florence. In fact, on Thursday we are meeting in the city. The professor seems okay she bashed her undergraduate business major (so not cool) but has a history in both architecture and art history so that will definitely be useful. She also definitely likes to hear herself talk (again, pretty common with college professors) but has a little trouble listening. All my classes are small; this one and Art and Identity have about fifteen students. Italian has eleven. My next class was Beginning Digital Photography. Not much to say about this one except I need to get a better digital camera. Our class only has nine girls in it but we have two professors that are great and really knowledgeable so I think it will be a great introductory course. It meets twice a week for three hours; we got out two hours early today, so that was definitely nice.
A quick note on the dinners on these two days (Monday and Tuesday). Monday was quite interesting as Mama was teaching a cooking lesson to four Japanese students. So our dinner table consisted of four Japanese girls, two American girls, and two Italians. We spoke a mash of English and Italian but it really is amazing how much you can communicate with gestures. Plus, when there is so much good food—who needs to talk? We had fresh bruschetta (by the way, much better fresh) with tomatoes, onions, olives, and whatever else is in bruschetta piled on fresh slices of bread. We had penne zucchini pasta which is Cosimo’s (mama’s son) favorite dish. For dessert we had this grape cake, the grapes were freshly picked this weekend from Mama’s friends Villa and were so delicious and sweet. We also had breaded potatoes, zucchini, eggplant, and lemon chicken. This was very good and tasted very similar to Japanese tempura. Also, it tasted very, very fattening (I have been trying not to think about this fact). Someone told me that the food we are eating isn’t that bad because it is just fried in oil. I think he is fooling himself because it is still fried in oil. Oh, and we had some fresh onion rings. I love that they make onion rings in Italy and that they still look gourmet and authentic Italian.
Tuesday night we had a traditional Sicilian pasta dish. This might be the best pasta I have ever had. Let me explain. Mama used fresh spaghetti and covered with a mixture of water, flour, and breadcrumbs then she fried it in oil with garlic. I ate fried spaghetti! They finally figured out how to make spaghetti worse for you—by frying of course! But it was so delicious. Melissa and I ate the entire bowl. But we kept it light for the next course just salad, meat, potatoes, and fruit for dessert (and yes, that is keeping it “light”).
After dinner, my friends were DJing at this small Irish pub that is a little off the beaten path and popular with Italians. We enjoyed our leisurely thirty minute walk and when we arrived at the bar received free pint size beers and they went to learn about the audio system. I sat with three random girls and to my relief they spoke English. They were from the Czech Republic, Finland, and Australia. I hung out with them most of the night and talked to them about traveling. My roommate showed up a little later and we ended up hanging out there until 1:00 am (on a school night)!
My first class was Art and Identity in Renaissance Italy with Professor Jonathan Nelson. He was suggested by a fellow whittie so I knew he could not be too bad. The class is so interesting! It is somewhat similar to a course I’ve already taken in Renaissance Art with Dennis Crockett but this class will be focused more on Florence and more on paintings. Professor Nelson has blue eyes that sparkle even behind his spectacles and he calls me Sarah D (we have three Sarahs in the class…thank you again for your creativity Mom & Dad). I think I am really going to enjoy this class. He demands a lot out of his students has he frequently called on us during class and it was actually a dialogue (instead of a professor saying it’s a dialogue and then talking at the class the whole time). He is a little arrogant (as all art historians/college professors seem to be) and he assigned one of his newly published books in our reading material. My favorite part of this class is that about half of the classes are in the classroom while the other is at various sites around the city. We also have “mandatory” field trips to both Venice and Rome. I don’t think they have to make these mandatory, actually I would like to see them to stop me from going. Apparently, in Rome we get a private tour of the Sistine Chapel. I have also already made plans with my friend Becca to stay in Venice for an extra day and explore the city.
My next class was Italian…probably the most directly relevant class and also the most frequent (two hours a day, four times a week). My professor’s name was Constanti which was a good sign because as you may or may not know I am a big believer in a name and Constantino is the surname of a very good friend. However, once I reached the classroom which was on the third floor in a building across from the main campus, I was overcome by gloom. I think the idea of taking a language class brought my memories back to the dull days of high school Spanish class. So I just sat there in class as we went over the basics—Mi chiamo Sarah, Come ti chiami? You can guess what that means. We did this for 90 minutes. Then we did numbers for 30 minutes. The teacher actually asked me to smile, when was the last time a teacher asked me to smile? Probably the dull days of high school. Anyway, I actually did like our teacher she is like an Italian version of my favorite Spanish teacher from high school (who can best be summed up as extremely animated). On a side note, the second and third days of class haven’t got much better or harder. This is hard for me to believe of myself, but I cannot believe how easy our Italian class is. We really need to expedite the learning process here because my mama and I just had a conversation on how she needs to stop speaking English and only speak Italian. Ahh.
On the second day, I had my two other classes. The first was Renaissance Architecture in Italy. I am excited for this class because I know some little about Architecture technically I thought it would be a nice accompaniment to Art and Identity which mostly focuses on frescos. However, I learned today that this class is listed as not only a fine arts class but also as an architecture course. I am not really sure how this works because supposedly it’s an introductory course but there are architecture undergrads and graduate students in this class! I don’t know who I can compete with them (actually I’m sure I’ll figure it out). Architecture is similar to my art history class as half of our classes are in the classroom and half are around Florence. In fact, on Thursday we are meeting in the city. The professor seems okay she bashed her undergraduate business major (so not cool) but has a history in both architecture and art history so that will definitely be useful. She also definitely likes to hear herself talk (again, pretty common with college professors) but has a little trouble listening. All my classes are small; this one and Art and Identity have about fifteen students. Italian has eleven. My next class was Beginning Digital Photography. Not much to say about this one except I need to get a better digital camera. Our class only has nine girls in it but we have two professors that are great and really knowledgeable so I think it will be a great introductory course. It meets twice a week for three hours; we got out two hours early today, so that was definitely nice.
A quick note on the dinners on these two days (Monday and Tuesday). Monday was quite interesting as Mama was teaching a cooking lesson to four Japanese students. So our dinner table consisted of four Japanese girls, two American girls, and two Italians. We spoke a mash of English and Italian but it really is amazing how much you can communicate with gestures. Plus, when there is so much good food—who needs to talk? We had fresh bruschetta (by the way, much better fresh) with tomatoes, onions, olives, and whatever else is in bruschetta piled on fresh slices of bread. We had penne zucchini pasta which is Cosimo’s (mama’s son) favorite dish. For dessert we had this grape cake, the grapes were freshly picked this weekend from Mama’s friends Villa and were so delicious and sweet. We also had breaded potatoes, zucchini, eggplant, and lemon chicken. This was very good and tasted very similar to Japanese tempura. Also, it tasted very, very fattening (I have been trying not to think about this fact). Someone told me that the food we are eating isn’t that bad because it is just fried in oil. I think he is fooling himself because it is still fried in oil. Oh, and we had some fresh onion rings. I love that they make onion rings in Italy and that they still look gourmet and authentic Italian.
Tuesday night we had a traditional Sicilian pasta dish. This might be the best pasta I have ever had. Let me explain. Mama used fresh spaghetti and covered with a mixture of water, flour, and breadcrumbs then she fried it in oil with garlic. I ate fried spaghetti! They finally figured out how to make spaghetti worse for you—by frying of course! But it was so delicious. Melissa and I ate the entire bowl. But we kept it light for the next course just salad, meat, potatoes, and fruit for dessert (and yes, that is keeping it “light”).
After dinner, my friends were DJing at this small Irish pub that is a little off the beaten path and popular with Italians. We enjoyed our leisurely thirty minute walk and when we arrived at the bar received free pint size beers and they went to learn about the audio system. I sat with three random girls and to my relief they spoke English. They were from the Czech Republic, Finland, and Australia. I hung out with them most of the night and talked to them about traveling. My roommate showed up a little later and we ended up hanging out there until 1:00 am (on a school night)!
Tuesday, September 9, 2008
Beach, Outlets, and a Wedding?
Day 2 of full-immersion weekend again I headed to the car. This time I was a little less nervous perhaps because I was more used to the crazy Florentine driving. We met up with Patricia and two sons and two host sons and we headed to the beach. I had no idea where we were going until we got there. The beach was about an hour away but the ride was beautiful through the Florentine hills. It was nice to be with two other guys our age but everyone is so quiet we pretty much just sat on the beach and tanned. Fine with me. Next, Patricia, Mama, Melissa, Lorenzo, and I drove to the designer outlets which were just 15 minutes away. The outlet store looked like the Marysville outlets near Seattle but more expensive, more high end, and a different currency. But it really looked just like an outdoor mall in the United States. There was a fake river and the stores had a false façade giving a more Tuscan feel. We went into the Prada and Dolce and Gabbana outlets and surprise, surprise…we still couldn’t afford anything. Plus, the discount of the outlets was cancelled out by the weak dollar. Too bad. I did buy a nighty dress to sleep in (because its so freaking hot) for 6 Euro
Now this is where it gets interesting. Our Mama informed us this morning that we were invited to a wedding of one of her friends. It took me a while to figure this out but the friend had been married legally but recently decided to get married in a church—Mama think this was just an excuse to have a party. But she is a very good friend of our Mama and wanted us to come to the wedding too! Anyway, Melissa and I put on the nicest outfits we brought with us to Florence and headed out to a beautiful villa on the hillside just five kilometers outside of Florence. The villa was magnificent! It had a beautiful view of the city and was a large, ornate estate adorned with gold and fine pieces of art. What a perfect place for a wedding!
We were one of the first to arrive—we got there at 7:30 and it started at 7:00 and most of the guest arrived at 8:30—just a note on Italian punctuality. All the men were dressed in perfectly tailored suits and the women in formal dresses. Much more formal than a typical Northwest wedding, however there was that token couple who were both wearing jeans. They served heavy ors’devures—I was hungry so I stalked up on cheese, bread, onion rings (yes, they served onion rings), fried egg plant, salami, and other little finger foods. Little did I know there would be a four course meal to follow…
It was a somewhat unusual event because usually in this situation, when I didn’t know anyone, I would be working the room trying to meet everyone and learning about them. But because I don’t know Italian…well, that makes it much harder. However, I ended up with a fabulous table—we were the leftovers so had our own private table in a private dining room around the corner. There were six of us in our group: Melissa and I, Cristina a twenty year old from Florence who spoke English practically fluently, Pascual another Florentine (despite the French name) who was nineteen, hilarious, and spoke little English, Jacopa who was a beautiful twenty year old from a little town south of Siena—he spoke beautiful English, and his seventeen year old girlfriend who was English but spoke fluent Italian. Quite the pairing! I was happy to see how much communication can be achieved with gestures and limited English/Italian. I think it helped that we went through bottles of wine quickly. Generally so far in Italy, I would only have (at most) two glasses of wine with dinner. But, I guess it was a wedding? But mostly the peers drank quicker than there older Italian counterparts. We went probably five bottles of wine…but three other young adults joined us by dessert. There was then dancing and more eating (why not). It was nice to talk to Italians about life in Italy, I think they were very curious to actually talk to someone who studied her instead of just seeing them around. Most of their impressions were that Americans were drunk, easy, and in Florence to party. This (sadly) sounds about right for about half of my program. I tried to explain to them that the other half don’t know where to go to meet Italians who actually want to meet them or aren’t confident enough in their Italian language skills. Anyway, I ended up with four numbers from my new friends and I fully intend on calling them and hanging out with real Italians. I just hope I can improve my Italian as not to embarrass myself!
So there was my first weekend in Florence: a trip to a villa in the Tuscan countryside, a fantastic four course meal, a trip to the beach and outlets, and an Italian wedding. I can only hope the rest of my weekends are this eventful!
Now this is where it gets interesting. Our Mama informed us this morning that we were invited to a wedding of one of her friends. It took me a while to figure this out but the friend had been married legally but recently decided to get married in a church—Mama think this was just an excuse to have a party. But she is a very good friend of our Mama and wanted us to come to the wedding too! Anyway, Melissa and I put on the nicest outfits we brought with us to Florence and headed out to a beautiful villa on the hillside just five kilometers outside of Florence. The villa was magnificent! It had a beautiful view of the city and was a large, ornate estate adorned with gold and fine pieces of art. What a perfect place for a wedding!
We were one of the first to arrive—we got there at 7:30 and it started at 7:00 and most of the guest arrived at 8:30—just a note on Italian punctuality. All the men were dressed in perfectly tailored suits and the women in formal dresses. Much more formal than a typical Northwest wedding, however there was that token couple who were both wearing jeans. They served heavy ors’devures—I was hungry so I stalked up on cheese, bread, onion rings (yes, they served onion rings), fried egg plant, salami, and other little finger foods. Little did I know there would be a four course meal to follow…
It was a somewhat unusual event because usually in this situation, when I didn’t know anyone, I would be working the room trying to meet everyone and learning about them. But because I don’t know Italian…well, that makes it much harder. However, I ended up with a fabulous table—we were the leftovers so had our own private table in a private dining room around the corner. There were six of us in our group: Melissa and I, Cristina a twenty year old from Florence who spoke English practically fluently, Pascual another Florentine (despite the French name) who was nineteen, hilarious, and spoke little English, Jacopa who was a beautiful twenty year old from a little town south of Siena—he spoke beautiful English, and his seventeen year old girlfriend who was English but spoke fluent Italian. Quite the pairing! I was happy to see how much communication can be achieved with gestures and limited English/Italian. I think it helped that we went through bottles of wine quickly. Generally so far in Italy, I would only have (at most) two glasses of wine with dinner. But, I guess it was a wedding? But mostly the peers drank quicker than there older Italian counterparts. We went probably five bottles of wine…but three other young adults joined us by dessert. There was then dancing and more eating (why not). It was nice to talk to Italians about life in Italy, I think they were very curious to actually talk to someone who studied her instead of just seeing them around. Most of their impressions were that Americans were drunk, easy, and in Florence to party. This (sadly) sounds about right for about half of my program. I tried to explain to them that the other half don’t know where to go to meet Italians who actually want to meet them or aren’t confident enough in their Italian language skills. Anyway, I ended up with four numbers from my new friends and I fully intend on calling them and hanging out with real Italians. I just hope I can improve my Italian as not to embarrass myself!
So there was my first weekend in Florence: a trip to a villa in the Tuscan countryside, a fantastic four course meal, a trip to the beach and outlets, and an Italian wedding. I can only hope the rest of my weekends are this eventful!
Saturday, September 6, 2008
Big, Traditional Italian Meal
September 6, 2008
Big Italian Dinner
I promise I will not explain every good meal in Italy…but why not? That is what I want to remember! Mama invited over one of her friends who is also a host mom and her two host sons. Patricia came over around 8 with her two sons in hand, Nick and Jay. Not surprisingly, I knew both of them. Jay is a classmate of mine at Whitman (one of the two other ones), he also speaks about as much Italian as me. Nick and Melissa both speak a little Italian but are a little shy. So for all ten of us, it was me and Melissa, our Mama, her son, Patricia, her two real sons (in their thirties), her two host sons, and her husband. Here was the fantastic menu:
First Course:
Bread with this olive oil/anchovy paste/capers spread
Baked bread with salami
Salami and fresh figs (picked at the Villa this morning)
Second Course:
Pasta in meat sauce with tomatoes
Third Course:
The most juicy, succulent, tender, moist pork chops
A full bowl of salad that was left untouched (how can you go for salad when there are pork chops!)
Potatoes cut into small pieces and roasted—of course, I find we have potatoes every meal.
Fourth/Dessert Course:
Apple Crisp!
By the time we had finished eating, two hours had gone by. The meal was…it is hard to describe. Do you know the feeling when you’re so full, it hurts to breathe, but all you can do is think about taking that one last bite? That was how this meal was. I was so full after pork chops but I managed to have three helpings of Apple crisp. Finally, a culture where my large appetite is rewarded! Mama constantly asks to give us more helpings…well she doesn’t really ask me anymore because she knows how much I eat and that I feel fine about taking extra helpings. She does push food to Melissa because she eats like a normal person. I however don’t know anyone outside my family who eats as much as I do.
After dinner, we watched the Italy versus Cyprus soccer game around the television. During half time, we walked Forrest Gump dubbed in Italian. Haha. It was wonderful. The four of us went out on the town after dinner, but I didn’t stay out to late because I was so full. I took a taxi home at one which is pretty much the equivalent of ten in the States because everyone goes out so late.
Big Italian Dinner
I promise I will not explain every good meal in Italy…but why not? That is what I want to remember! Mama invited over one of her friends who is also a host mom and her two host sons. Patricia came over around 8 with her two sons in hand, Nick and Jay. Not surprisingly, I knew both of them. Jay is a classmate of mine at Whitman (one of the two other ones), he also speaks about as much Italian as me. Nick and Melissa both speak a little Italian but are a little shy. So for all ten of us, it was me and Melissa, our Mama, her son, Patricia, her two real sons (in their thirties), her two host sons, and her husband. Here was the fantastic menu:
First Course:
Bread with this olive oil/anchovy paste/capers spread
Baked bread with salami
Salami and fresh figs (picked at the Villa this morning)
Second Course:
Pasta in meat sauce with tomatoes
Third Course:
The most juicy, succulent, tender, moist pork chops
A full bowl of salad that was left untouched (how can you go for salad when there are pork chops!)
Potatoes cut into small pieces and roasted—of course, I find we have potatoes every meal.
Fourth/Dessert Course:
Apple Crisp!
By the time we had finished eating, two hours had gone by. The meal was…it is hard to describe. Do you know the feeling when you’re so full, it hurts to breathe, but all you can do is think about taking that one last bite? That was how this meal was. I was so full after pork chops but I managed to have three helpings of Apple crisp. Finally, a culture where my large appetite is rewarded! Mama constantly asks to give us more helpings…well she doesn’t really ask me anymore because she knows how much I eat and that I feel fine about taking extra helpings. She does push food to Melissa because she eats like a normal person. I however don’t know anyone outside my family who eats as much as I do.
After dinner, we watched the Italy versus Cyprus soccer game around the television. During half time, we walked Forrest Gump dubbed in Italian. Haha. It was wonderful. The four of us went out on the town after dinner, but I didn’t stay out to late because I was so full. I took a taxi home at one which is pretty much the equivalent of ten in the States because everyone goes out so late.
Friday, September 5, 2008
Tuscan Countryside
“Full-immersion” weekend begins! Our first weekend in Florence is spent bonding with our new family. On Saturday afternoon we went to a villa in the Tuscan countryside that is owned by one of our Mama’s friends. Now, I thought I had a crazy driving experience in New York when our driver honked every five minutes, wouldn’t stop talking, and got in near accidents about five times. This random New York driver has got nothing on my host Mama. In fact, every New York taxi driver has got nothing on the average Italian driver. There doesn’t seem to be a speed limit on any of the roads in the city—but you can’t go too fast because there are too many stoplights and crosswalks. However, this is very different in the countryside. The narrow road twisted up the Chianti hills and I grasped the side of the car so I wouldn’t lose my balance. The roads were so narrow that it could have easily been mistaken for a one lane, one-way street. Fright engulfed me when we reached the bottom of a hill and a car would appear speeding around the corner of the hilltop toward us. Fortunately, we made it to the villa unscathed. I learned to take a deep breath, realize that my Mama is in her late 60s, and has never died in a car crash. The hills were beautiful filled with lush vegetation including vineyards and olive farms. And all I could think about was delicious Chianti.
The weather has been in the 80s with humidity while I have been here…and no one has air conditioning. So hopping into this stranger’s pool was quite refreshing! My Mama’s son Leonardo with his girlfriend joined us shortly thereafter. They arrived on a BMW motorcycle and Leonardo jumped off wearing a Ramones tee shirt with his almost waist length hair fashioned in a pony tail. Leonardo is in his forties—and has been dating his girlfriend for over five years; I won’t go into the common theme of Italian men with relationship/commitment issues. But, at least he has moved out—and also lives in Florence! Mama’s other son Cosimo, who is 28, still lives with her.
We swam in the water for a while and then played with the owner of the villa’s two beautiful dogs. They also had two gorgeous goats which (as always) reminded me of my childhood (Billy Goats Gruff). We had a broken conversation with our limited knowledge of Italian, English, and French. My beautiful scars did come up (always quite the conversation piece) which I proudly asserted were related to a calcio (futbol) injury—which I guess isn’t too far of a stretch.
Got to go, we are having a ten person Italian dinner tonight!
The weather has been in the 80s with humidity while I have been here…and no one has air conditioning. So hopping into this stranger’s pool was quite refreshing! My Mama’s son Leonardo with his girlfriend joined us shortly thereafter. They arrived on a BMW motorcycle and Leonardo jumped off wearing a Ramones tee shirt with his almost waist length hair fashioned in a pony tail. Leonardo is in his forties—and has been dating his girlfriend for over five years; I won’t go into the common theme of Italian men with relationship/commitment issues. But, at least he has moved out—and also lives in Florence! Mama’s other son Cosimo, who is 28, still lives with her.
We swam in the water for a while and then played with the owner of the villa’s two beautiful dogs. They also had two gorgeous goats which (as always) reminded me of my childhood (Billy Goats Gruff). We had a broken conversation with our limited knowledge of Italian, English, and French. My beautiful scars did come up (always quite the conversation piece) which I proudly asserted were related to a calcio (futbol) injury—which I guess isn’t too far of a stretch.
Got to go, we are having a ten person Italian dinner tonight!
Thursday, September 4, 2008
Meeting my Host Mom
Day 2 of orientation was filled with free time and waiting in line. I waited in line for two hours to set up my wireless internet! If they only knew what a computer guru I was, I could have helped the process go so much faster! Haha. It was good to stand in line for such a long time because we learned about our roommate and host family at noon and I didn’t want to get more anxious.
Noon finally arrived and…I’m with Mama Fiama! Mama Fiama is who I requested. She lives alone—although her 28 year old son visits often (he even has his own room). She is a chef who teaches cooking lessons on the weekends. She lives in a art studio apartment that is a short five minute walk to campus! She also has two lovely cats. My roommates name is Melissa—who I have never met.
I met Mama Fiama and my roommate Melissa about three hours later! They are both absolutely lovely! I was surprised that my Mama was blonde…I guess that is one of the stereotypes I had in my head of raven haired, dark eyed Italians. Even though she lives two blocks away, she picked us up in her little Fiat so we could take our luggage to her apartment. She said we didn’t have THAT much luggage because many people come with three HUGE bags—I asked her if my friend Amy (who suggested her) was one of them—and she laughed and said yes. Anyway, the apartment is AMAZING! I have never seen so much art on the wall. Fiama’s late husband and son are both artists and her walls are filled with beautiful oil paintings of scenery and people. She has whole walls filled with this artwork and canvas set up that her son Cosimo is currently working on. I always asked why Italy was filled with such talented artists in the past and not now, little did I know it is still filled with wonderful artists! Fiama is great and speaks beautiful English and puts up with my barely broken Italian. She has written an Italian cook book translated in both English and Japanese. She also loves listening to Billie Holiday.
The first thing we did together was go through a thorough bilingual food list of what we liked, didn’t like, or hated. Melissa and Fiama would ask me about each food and I was like yes, I eat that, yes I like that too. I mean, I am a Claxton, of course I liked everything! Melissa is a little picky with vegetables but has a really good attitude about trying new things. The only “no” foods we ended up with were beets, onions, red pepper spice, and chicken/pork liver. At first, I wanted to say no on the veal too because it would be hard to go from not eating red meat for eight years to eating veal! But, my stomach prevailed and veal stayed on the menu.
Melissa is also wonderful! She is from San Diego and goes to Santa Clara. She knows one of my friends from high school Andy as she took him to her Delta Gamma formal dance. Yes, I am living with a DG. But the rivalry must end (temporarily) in Florence, haha. Melissa speaks fluent Spanish and has been taking Italian for a year which just amazes me. Sounds like a helpful roommate! She also requested Mama Fiama after a suggestion by a friend of a friend. Mama Fiama also speaks Spanish and French as well as Italian and English. Our room is upstairs (with the two other bedrooms and a bathroom) and consists of two small beds, a closet, and a dresser. We remarkably fit all our clothes in this little space and have a beautiful view as well.
My fifth meal in Italy was…DELICIOUS! For our first course, we had caprese—fresh tomatoes, mozzarella, basil, and olive oil. It reminded me of my mom’s cooking back home. The second course was pasta pomodora—basically pasta in tomato sauce. The pasta was so basic yet so delicious and fresh. We then had chicken with lemon and “french fries”. The chicken was moist and savory as she heated it up in oil was we were finishing our pasta course. She also fried the french fries with the chicken. It hard to call these french fries because they were fried potatoes yet quite soft inside and a little tart instead of salty. Oh, and my favorite was the “healthy herbs”. I don’t believe for one second these could be healthy. They were like a more buttery, processed, oiled version of collared greens. I had about three helpings especially since Melissa didn’t care for them. For dessert, we had peaches marinated in white wine and sugar. Simple and tasty. Finally, a home cooked meal! I was so lucky to have my bad meal rut broken—I was almost beginning to lose hope. Fiama has a dishwasher and refused to let us help her clean up—I could get used to that.
Melissa’s parents are coming in two weeks and Mama Fiama already invited them over for dinner. I am sure she will make even a more extravagant meal when we have guests. This is a hint to my mom, Aunt Susan, and Aunt Aimee to come visit me so my wonderful, authentic, Italian host mom can cook for you too!
Melissa and I are both so exhausted from the day that we are staying in and nursing our many bug bites. I have thirteen on my left leg—which is really what I deserve for making fun of my roommate using bug spray.
Wednesday, September 3, 2008
Day 2 of Florence -- Orientation
Day 1 of orientation and Day 2 of Florence mainly consisted of being talked at by the glorious Syracuse administration. I know they have to do this—as I live with my mom who is charge of this torment at SU Law. But, I honestly can’t remember anything they said in the morning because it was all basically common sense/information I had already read about. Probably most exciting was hearing a few professors speak about their classes. It really reminded me how much I enjoy learning because of how anxious I was getting for these classes! I am most excited for the site visits and the in-class trips to different places. I register on Friday and I’m planning on signing up for two art history classes, an art class, and Italian (of course).
Then we were bused to the main campus, Villa Rosa. We had a buffet lunch which naturally contained pasta, bread, cheese, and salad. Second meal in Italy…dreadful. Again with the buffets, I know it’s really not there fault and anyway this is much, much better than Bon Appetit would do. And these meals are pretty much the equivalent of Syracuses’ Bon Appetit. (For any of you who do not know, Bon Appetit is the company used for preparing food at Whitman and many other colleges).
We were in charge of getting back to the hotel on our own (the hotel was only about 1.5 miles away). I decided that I should get back on my own…because prior I had been relying on other people and I’m here in Italy to grow, get out of my comfort zone, and all that. Look how well I am trying to pursue my goals? So anyway, of course I got lost…I found the street I was supposed to be on but then walked down it the wrong way because I couldn’t find any of the cross streets. Then, when I was getting desperate, I tried to consult David (my GPS) but he had know idea where we were—still thought we were in Tacoma but he caught on eventually. Anyway, I made it back fine…it just took about 90 minutes.
We had a pretty uneventful meal that was similar to our first night in the hotel (otherwise known as dreadful), but I had great conversation! After dinner, I walked around with my new group of friends. There are three guys from Gettysburg, and girls from Mt. Holyoke, Bowdoin, Spelman, and Bates. I have two mutal friends from high school with Katie from Mt. Holyoke and Alyssa from Bowdoin, and one mutual friend from college with Becca from Spelman. Such a small world!
Katie, Elyssa, and Becca while we are on our way to the Duomo
We walked to Santa Croce then split a bottle of Champagne and bought some sangria. Light drinking—just like the Italians. I finally met another wine snob! His name is Sebastian—I only mention that because even his name sounds like a wine connoisseur. He was quite impressed when I spouted my knowledge about Pinot Noir. Also, one of my friend is from outside of Philadelphia and we chatted about the Willamette Valley. Later, we went to this “club” because someone had to use the bathroom and it was disgustingly American—everyone was speaking English and there were many blatantly drunk people. When we walked in the Pussycat Dolls were playing in the front and there was a band singing “Relax” in the back. I was glad to be with my new friends because I think if I was feeling uncomfortable/alone here I would have been very happy in this American setting, but instead, we just joked about how silly it was to be in Florence but act like you were in America and how we wanted to find real Italian bars!
I woke up in the middle of the night because I was really anxious about getting our host family (we were to be informed tomorrow). I had some awful nightmare that no one wanted me or something. I requested a Mama who two of my Kappa sisters from Whitman stayed with but was trying not to get my hopes up. Then I got a bloody nose, strange—I know.
Then we were bused to the main campus, Villa Rosa. We had a buffet lunch which naturally contained pasta, bread, cheese, and salad. Second meal in Italy…dreadful. Again with the buffets, I know it’s really not there fault and anyway this is much, much better than Bon Appetit would do. And these meals are pretty much the equivalent of Syracuses’ Bon Appetit. (For any of you who do not know, Bon Appetit is the company used for preparing food at Whitman and many other colleges).
We were in charge of getting back to the hotel on our own (the hotel was only about 1.5 miles away). I decided that I should get back on my own…because prior I had been relying on other people and I’m here in Italy to grow, get out of my comfort zone, and all that. Look how well I am trying to pursue my goals? So anyway, of course I got lost…I found the street I was supposed to be on but then walked down it the wrong way because I couldn’t find any of the cross streets. Then, when I was getting desperate, I tried to consult David (my GPS) but he had know idea where we were—still thought we were in Tacoma but he caught on eventually. Anyway, I made it back fine…it just took about 90 minutes.
We had a pretty uneventful meal that was similar to our first night in the hotel (otherwise known as dreadful), but I had great conversation! After dinner, I walked around with my new group of friends. There are three guys from Gettysburg, and girls from Mt. Holyoke, Bowdoin, Spelman, and Bates. I have two mutal friends from high school with Katie from Mt. Holyoke and Alyssa from Bowdoin, and one mutual friend from college with Becca from Spelman. Such a small world!
Katie, Elyssa, and Becca while we are on our way to the DuomoWe walked to Santa Croce then split a bottle of Champagne and bought some sangria. Light drinking—just like the Italians. I finally met another wine snob! His name is Sebastian—I only mention that because even his name sounds like a wine connoisseur. He was quite impressed when I spouted my knowledge about Pinot Noir. Also, one of my friend is from outside of Philadelphia and we chatted about the Willamette Valley. Later, we went to this “club” because someone had to use the bathroom and it was disgustingly American—everyone was speaking English and there were many blatantly drunk people. When we walked in the Pussycat Dolls were playing in the front and there was a band singing “Relax” in the back. I was glad to be with my new friends because I think if I was feeling uncomfortable/alone here I would have been very happy in this American setting, but instead, we just joked about how silly it was to be in Florence but act like you were in America and how we wanted to find real Italian bars!
I woke up in the middle of the night because I was really anxious about getting our host family (we were to be informed tomorrow). I had some awful nightmare that no one wanted me or something. I requested a Mama who two of my Kappa sisters from Whitman stayed with but was trying not to get my hopes up. Then I got a bloody nose, strange—I know.
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
Arrival in Florence
I made it safely to Florence! I arrived insanely early for my JFK to Frankfurt flight and spent the time relaxing, talking on the phone, and meeting some of my new classmates. I had a bulk head seat on my flight so I had about three feet of leg room! I finished my book and then slept for seven hours. My flight from Florence to Frankfurt was nice and short and I met one of my fellow whitties there. My luggage was the first to come out (yay) so I was the first to meet the representatives from Syracuse outside of the gates. The weirdest part about flying was that I didn’t go through customs. When I got off my flight in Frankfurt, I handed my passport to someone and he stamped it—that was the most of customs as far as I could tell. Because when I got to Florence, I went through the “nothing to declare line” which was actually just an exit. Guess it was silly worrying that my name was misspelled as “Srah” on my visa….
One thing I noticed by sitting by Europeans on the planes, watching the airport news, and looking at international periodicals i: they report on the same thing! This German woman was sitting by me on the flight to Frankfurt reading an article on Michelle Obama in German! I read an article on Michelle Obama in Ebony on my flight to JFK. Everything on the news was either about the U.S. presidential campaign (especially Sarah Palin’s pregnant daughter), the U.S. open, or Hurricane Gustav.
We had a packed bus (probably 60 students) to the hotel. I checked in, met my quiet roommate (from Santa Clara), and then took a two hour nap until dinner. My first dinner in Italy was… dreadful. I guess we are at a hotel buffet or maybe I’m used to fabulous New York food? I had some chicken and pesto pasta, but at least the tiramisu dessert was excellent. I sat with a bunch of architecture students from Syracuse who all knew each other but were nice, humourous, and entertaining.
After dinner, I walked around a little by myself and found a small Internet café. Then I met up with like six other random students from Gettysburg, Providence, Colgate, Northwestern and some other schools. We walked along the river to a bridge and heard some music. Then we walked to the Duomo and Santa Croce. Florence is so beautiful—it was nice to see the city in the dark. I am used to just seeing pictures of the Duomo and Santa Croce and its funny just how much more beautiful and massive it is in person. On the way back, we stopped for some gelato (I just had too). I had a small melon cup which was amazing and tasted just like cantaloupe—almost too much as I couldn’t even finish it (and you know how I love my food)! Now, I am sitting in my hotel room (who knows where the roommate is) watching CNN which is one of the only channels in English and listening to the story for like the 100th time about Palin’s pregnant teenage daughter. I am really sick of this story.
Wi-Fi in the hotel is “broken” but I am kind of under the impression that it broken all the time—so don’t know when I’m going to have a time to check my e-mail. That is also why I am uploading all my blog entries all at once.
One thing I noticed by sitting by Europeans on the planes, watching the airport news, and looking at international periodicals i: they report on the same thing! This German woman was sitting by me on the flight to Frankfurt reading an article on Michelle Obama in German! I read an article on Michelle Obama in Ebony on my flight to JFK. Everything on the news was either about the U.S. presidential campaign (especially Sarah Palin’s pregnant daughter), the U.S. open, or Hurricane Gustav.
We had a packed bus (probably 60 students) to the hotel. I checked in, met my quiet roommate (from Santa Clara), and then took a two hour nap until dinner. My first dinner in Italy was… dreadful. I guess we are at a hotel buffet or maybe I’m used to fabulous New York food? I had some chicken and pesto pasta, but at least the tiramisu dessert was excellent. I sat with a bunch of architecture students from Syracuse who all knew each other but were nice, humourous, and entertaining.
After dinner, I walked around a little by myself and found a small Internet café. Then I met up with like six other random students from Gettysburg, Providence, Colgate, Northwestern and some other schools. We walked along the river to a bridge and heard some music. Then we walked to the Duomo and Santa Croce. Florence is so beautiful—it was nice to see the city in the dark. I am used to just seeing pictures of the Duomo and Santa Croce and its funny just how much more beautiful and massive it is in person. On the way back, we stopped for some gelato (I just had too). I had a small melon cup which was amazing and tasted just like cantaloupe—almost too much as I couldn’t even finish it (and you know how I love my food)! Now, I am sitting in my hotel room (who knows where the roommate is) watching CNN which is one of the only channels in English and listening to the story for like the 100th time about Palin’s pregnant teenage daughter. I am really sick of this story.
Wi-Fi in the hotel is “broken” but I am kind of under the impression that it broken all the time—so don’t know when I’m going to have a time to check my e-mail. That is also why I am uploading all my blog entries all at once.
Monday, September 1, 2008
New York, New York
I flew to New York on the Friday before I left Monday night in order to spend some quality time with my Aunt and shorten my flight to Florence.
I have just finished Eat, Pray, Love; and have found it a helpful way to remember a city is by finding one word that epitomizes it. My word for New York is stylish. Of course, I have tons of words for New York: eccentric, distinctive, crazy, raucous, boisterous, and hectic. But everything has style in New York: people, shows, restaurants, the buildings, even the subways. Its not just young women with style here it is everyone: teenagers, college students, young men, older women, older men. I may not like a particular New Yorker style, but at least it is there. I did not once see someone wearing sweatpants. I never felt out of place with my blackberry as almost everyone we hung out with had either a blackberry or an iphone—or both. Most importantly, what I liked is that I didn’t feel silly because I care about my appearance or dressed up. In fact I liked dressing up, loved dressing up. I saw people walking down the street in outfits that would be deemed too formal for a Pacific Northwest Homecoming dance, but they were working it just fine.
One of my favorite activities in New York, was going to the Fuerza Bruta Brazilian dance performance. I believe this type of performance could only happen in New York (and perhaps Brazil as well). You stand up for the entire show and move around as the sets are constantly intersecting the audience. I am not sure of all the themes portrayed in the show but one was criticizing the corporate world as the performers were wearing almost suits and throwing around paper and breaking it on peoples heads (performed much better than described). I thought that was somewhat ironic since the majority of people probably were in the corporate world in order to afford the one hour performance for $75 a head. My favorite part of the entire show was when a plexi-glass ceiling was suspended just a foot above my head while four gorgeous women danced, posed, and slid around. It was like a performance art slip-n-slide. Sometimes, the professional dancers would pick random people to dance and they all (well, one exception) had an excellent sense of rhythm and style in which they danced. It looked nothing like a Whitman dance party. Also, everyone seemed so nonchalant about gallons of water falling on their heads as they danced at the end of the show. I could only think about the impracticality of it being soaked with no clothes at 11:30 pm but they were just having a blast and enjoying the moment.
Other than that, my weekend was filled with fun activities mostly involving food, family, and shopping. Wine & cheese party on Friday followed by Jimmy’s in which I absolutely enjoyed meeting my aunt’s fabulous friends. Saturday, my grandmother, aunt, uncle, and new cousin visited and we went to Brooklyn for brunch and played in the park. Sunday included an excellent brunch at 5 Points, a little shopping, and a fantastic performance of Avenue Q. I would highly suggest this show because it was hilarious, tongue-in-cheek, and clever (with such titles as “It Sucks to be Me”, “Everyone’s a Little Bit Racist”, and “Sheidenfreuda”! Followed by a Sex and the City style dinner at Morimoto and drinks at Milady’s. Monday was a scramble to get ready to fly in Florence but we managed to fit in a trip to Century 21 to pick up some essentials and have brunch with the girls at The Smith.
After this experience, I decided I would like to devote an entire section of my blog entry to the amazingness of Japanese toilets. I had my first experience with a Japanese toilet at my fabulous farewell dinner at Moriomoto. Moriomoto who has been a colossal celebrity chef in my mind, since he was featured as the best Iron Chef on the original Japanese show. Back to the toilets—if you can even call it that. It was more a combination of a toilet, bedit, and hair dryer. I guess Japanese toilets are designed so you don’t have to touch anything or use any paper. So there is no toilet flush, but a button for flush. There are a few buttons for drying including “pulse”, “oscillating”, and “steady”. There are also front and rear cleansing mechanisms that you can adjust for the best angle. The toilets are locating in some type of stall with a full door and a beautiful glass wall with a Japanese garden behind it. It was hard to leave.
I am almost ready to move to New York. Granted, the city did chew me up and spit me out day one… by introducing me to one of its famous neighborhood iced teas, but I just feel like I belong here. The spirit and the energy are in sync with how I am feeling. Plus, the food is amazing.
I have just finished Eat, Pray, Love; and have found it a helpful way to remember a city is by finding one word that epitomizes it. My word for New York is stylish. Of course, I have tons of words for New York: eccentric, distinctive, crazy, raucous, boisterous, and hectic. But everything has style in New York: people, shows, restaurants, the buildings, even the subways. Its not just young women with style here it is everyone: teenagers, college students, young men, older women, older men. I may not like a particular New Yorker style, but at least it is there. I did not once see someone wearing sweatpants. I never felt out of place with my blackberry as almost everyone we hung out with had either a blackberry or an iphone—or both. Most importantly, what I liked is that I didn’t feel silly because I care about my appearance or dressed up. In fact I liked dressing up, loved dressing up. I saw people walking down the street in outfits that would be deemed too formal for a Pacific Northwest Homecoming dance, but they were working it just fine.
One of my favorite activities in New York, was going to the Fuerza Bruta Brazilian dance performance. I believe this type of performance could only happen in New York (and perhaps Brazil as well). You stand up for the entire show and move around as the sets are constantly intersecting the audience. I am not sure of all the themes portrayed in the show but one was criticizing the corporate world as the performers were wearing almost suits and throwing around paper and breaking it on peoples heads (performed much better than described). I thought that was somewhat ironic since the majority of people probably were in the corporate world in order to afford the one hour performance for $75 a head. My favorite part of the entire show was when a plexi-glass ceiling was suspended just a foot above my head while four gorgeous women danced, posed, and slid around. It was like a performance art slip-n-slide. Sometimes, the professional dancers would pick random people to dance and they all (well, one exception) had an excellent sense of rhythm and style in which they danced. It looked nothing like a Whitman dance party. Also, everyone seemed so nonchalant about gallons of water falling on their heads as they danced at the end of the show. I could only think about the impracticality of it being soaked with no clothes at 11:30 pm but they were just having a blast and enjoying the moment.
Other than that, my weekend was filled with fun activities mostly involving food, family, and shopping. Wine & cheese party on Friday followed by Jimmy’s in which I absolutely enjoyed meeting my aunt’s fabulous friends. Saturday, my grandmother, aunt, uncle, and new cousin visited and we went to Brooklyn for brunch and played in the park. Sunday included an excellent brunch at 5 Points, a little shopping, and a fantastic performance of Avenue Q. I would highly suggest this show because it was hilarious, tongue-in-cheek, and clever (with such titles as “It Sucks to be Me”, “Everyone’s a Little Bit Racist”, and “Sheidenfreuda”! Followed by a Sex and the City style dinner at Morimoto and drinks at Milady’s. Monday was a scramble to get ready to fly in Florence but we managed to fit in a trip to Century 21 to pick up some essentials and have brunch with the girls at The Smith.
After this experience, I decided I would like to devote an entire section of my blog entry to the amazingness of Japanese toilets. I had my first experience with a Japanese toilet at my fabulous farewell dinner at Moriomoto. Moriomoto who has been a colossal celebrity chef in my mind, since he was featured as the best Iron Chef on the original Japanese show. Back to the toilets—if you can even call it that. It was more a combination of a toilet, bedit, and hair dryer. I guess Japanese toilets are designed so you don’t have to touch anything or use any paper. So there is no toilet flush, but a button for flush. There are a few buttons for drying including “pulse”, “oscillating”, and “steady”. There are also front and rear cleansing mechanisms that you can adjust for the best angle. The toilets are locating in some type of stall with a full door and a beautiful glass wall with a Japanese garden behind it. It was hard to leave.
I am almost ready to move to New York. Granted, the city did chew me up and spit me out day one… by introducing me to one of its famous neighborhood iced teas, but I just feel like I belong here. The spirit and the energy are in sync with how I am feeling. Plus, the food is amazing.
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