October 31^st through November 2^nd – Paris!

This weekend I went to Paris with my usual traveling buddies of Lauren, Carly, and Angie. We however, had a new addition to our group, as we met Lauren’s friend Josh who was visiting from home at the airport in Paris. It was a great weekend, despite getting lost on our way to the hostel, it being frigidly cold compared to the more soothing cool temperatures of Italy, and the dreary rain clouds overhead. I regret to say that we did not have any really “French” food, per say, other than the croissant at breakfast. We were on a strictly low budget that weekend, so we had brought a bunch of food along to eat, and did any of the rare food shopping in Paris in the cheap supermarkets, buying yogurt and pear sauce.

We saw as many sites as we could cram into our one night on Halloween (which apparently isn’t a big deal over here as I only saw one person dressed up in all of Paris), and the one full day on Saturday. Friday night, we went to the Arc di Triumph and from there, walked down the busy, twinkling-lit main drag that leads all the way to the glass pyramid of the Louvre. Friday nights are free after 6 pm for people under the age of 26, so it fit in perfectly with our measly budget!

Saturday, we got up and moseyed over to the Picasso Museum, which I really loved. I never knew how many different mediums and art forms Picasso used until seeing all his sculptures, collages, paintings, etc. in this museum! We then walked to the Notre Dame, which was amazing! I especially loved the gargoyles, who with their bulging neck muscles, scream down at you from the top of the outside walls, and, literally, drooling contemptuous rain drops from their foul mouths. But really: they have holes in the tops of their heads, so the rain runs through and out of their mouth, making it looks like they’re either really hungry, or foaming from the mouth in anger! This was also free, which was even more amazing!! After the Notre Dame, we took the metro to the Eiffel Tower, so we could see it during the day hours – impressive, of course! But we left to do some shopping and browsing elsewhere before coming back to see it all lit up – in blue! The soft glow of the electric blue was made even more fuzzy by the haze from the light sprinkling. We waited around, our mouths hanging open as we looked up and up, until the clock struck a new hour, and behold! The tower looks as though it were on fire with twinkling white lights dancing playfully and feverishly, eager to show off in their short moment of fame! It was beautiful! Apparently they light it up every hour on the hour for a few minutes – I know it was longer than one minute, so maybe 5 or 10? I’m not quite sure, but I loved every short minute of it!

Of course the day we left, Sunday, was sunny and beautiful, which was greatly appreciated as we reluctantly made our way back to the Charles de Gaulle Airport, the light streaming in through the glass ceiling of the building. I didn’t want to say goodbye to the French airport efficiency and cleanliness – Italy’s Fiumicino airport is so chaotic, and the lines to get through security are always a hair-tangling mess! The efficient French staff, however, rushed us through security before we could say merci, and out of their lovely country, back into the arms of the sometimes endearing, other times frustrating chaos of dear, old Italia. Au revoir, Paris!

Second half of Fall break: October 21-26

This one is going to be brief, as I'm sure most of you have heard it from my parents already! But I'm so happy that I was lucky enough to have 4 out of my 5 family members come and visit me, and that Amanda is still here - I didn't realize how much of comfort it would be to have someone I knew here. And I'm even more lucky, because I have more visitors yet to come! Betsy and Gary are coming for Thanksgiving with Amanda and I in Perugia! But anyways. Back to my original train of thought - fall break, parte due . . .

I sat down on the step outside of the Chiusi train station, expecting to be sitting there for a while, waiting for my family to battle their way onto the high-stress Italian highway, the autostrada, from Rome to Chiusi where I impatiently waited. So that’s where I was, reading my book when I hear a wonderfully familiar voice saying “Say, are you looking for someone?” I look up to see my dad’s comforting face grinning down at me, and immediately, my heart jumped into my throat as I sprang up to give him a bear hug. I couldn’t stop the goofy smile stretching across my face as I watched my always energetic and smiling Mom, a slightly groggy looking Michael (apparently he had taken the wise choice and fell asleep during the nerve-damaging car ride), and the always calm, no matter the circumstance, Amanda.

We crammed all our bags into the tiny, fuel-efficient rental car and took off on what turned out to be a couple hour search for our rented house in the Italian campagna, the countryside, near the cities of Chiusi and Città delle Pieve. Finally, after stopping to ask directions (of course the people we asked spoke solo italiano, so I got to practice my language skills), we stumbled upon the house. A while later, fashionably late, Italian-style, the owners showed up to give us the keys. They were a married couple who also spoke only Italian, so again, I became interpreter and have to say, I was thrilled at the opportunity to use my Italian or else! They had an apartment downstairs where they occasionally stayed, but they mainly just came by morning and night to do chores – feed the sheep, ducks, and the ever-hungry kittens that had greeted us as we drove up, and to care for the little vineyard, greenhouse, and olive trees scattered around on their little patch of land. They were very sweet, and during the course of our stay, gave us a traditional country breakfast cake, a bottle of their homemade wine after Dad asked questions about their vineyard, and when we left, they presented us with a little gift of a plaque that the wife had painted herself for us. We stopped at the Chiusi grocery store on our way home from our day-trips throughout the week, to grab the essentials: big, plump purple grapes, cheese, a big loaf of crunchy-on-the-outside bread, and a bottle of wine. Mmmm, there’s nothing like the Italian snack!

During the week, we took day trips. I apologize, because I am not going to do all these places justice in the small attention span of my blog.

Wednesday we went to Siena, which I won’t spend much time on, as I’ve already written a blog about that city when I went on my Tuscany Getaway weekend with a group from school.

Thursday we took the train to Florence and met up with my friend Lauren who was in Florence from Wednesday to Friday to see the sights. We went to the Uffizi and saw Botticelli’s famous painting, “The Birth of Venus” and many others from that time period and before. We then made our way over to the famous Duomo, the biggest domed cathedral, which was impressive on the outside, but not so much on the inside as they had the area under the duomo blocked off from tourists. Then, on to the Accademia where we saw the beautifully done masterpiece of David by Michelangelo. I think this was everyone’s favorite from the Florence trip. Before heading back to our haven in the country, we stopped by one of Florence’s million little markets and did some speedy shopping.

Friday we spent in Perugia, also taking the train to avoid the craziness of parking during the Eurochocolate Festival. While I am an avid lover of chocolate, this festival did not impress me – in fact, it infuriated me! A walk from my apartment to the main school building which normally took me ten minutes max, now took me literally half an hour, due to the HOARDS of people that took over the city center. Also, there weren’t really any activities to participate in, other than elbowing past people to finally reach one of the booths scattered through the city center, only to pay a fortune on over-priced chocolate that could be bought for significantly cheaper at one of the grocery stores in the city. So we stayed clear of the Festival as much as possible, instead going to a quieter street to eat at my favorite restaurant, La Lanterna, and buying chocolate from the sweet older man who works at the grocery store next to the main school building. Mom bought so much chocolate to take home that he gave us Michael’s overflowing plate of eggplant slices for free! See, this is the way to do Perugia chocolate! We went home early that day in order to see the sun set in our country refuge, making dinner and relaxing.

Saturday was my favorite of the day trips, as we drove to a city a little bit further south of Perugia called Orvieto. It’s a city built on tufa, which is volcanic rock that is only found in this region in Umbria. Tufa looks funny, as it’s full of holes – Rick Steves says the locals joke that it’s Swiss cheese! It’s a beautiful little city, touristy, but not in an annoying way. We had packed a lunch which we ate from a beautiful park on one edge of the city, which is where most of these pictures were taken. We went down into the pozzi, which are wells that Orvieto is famous for, which I also have pictures of. From Orvieto, we drove through the winding hills to get to Rick Steve’s favorite little hill town, Civita. Civita has 14 remaining residents, and cannot be reached by cars as it rests atop a pinnacle in the middle of a valley! You have to park and then take a foot-bridge from the nearest, more populated town of Bagnoregio to get to Civita! It’s a beautiful little town, caught in moment of the past, with the tourists that come there its only income. There fore, some of the residents are a bit forward from getting “donations” from you, but its worth it to walk through the city on its old stone roads and look out on the green valley below.

Sadly, Sunday Mom, Dad, and Michael left pretty early in order to get to Rome with enough time for Michael to see the Colesseum and Roman Forum before flying back to the States early Monday morning. So Manda and I made our way back to Perugia by train, and days flew by, and so here we are! Whew! Finally catching up a bit!

Here's a random writing exercise I did for my creative writing class:

“Ciao, bellissima!” the gelateria owner calls to me as I pass by his sweet-tooth heaven on my usual absent-minded trudge home to Via Bruschi. I look up, seeing the honestly sincere grin waking up his entire age-wrinkled face, his eyes twinkling with kindness, and my cheeks flush with shy pleasure. I know he says this to every slightly familiar female who passes by, but it makes my day every time. This tiny little phrase, ciao, bella, this simple, daily Italian greeting is so different than the dry, drab common American greeting of hey, or the hopeless hipsters’ bored ballad of what’s up. Now that I have been spoiled with ciao, bella! I know that these are the two little words that my red cheeks and I will miss most when we leave Italy.

It’s true that I have many problems with how some Italian men interact with women, especially those who they know to be American students, like one other walk home when a not-so-pleasant man lewdly licked his scheming lips as he squinted his eyes and hungrily looked me up and down, up and down, saying in halting English, “Oh my god, how beautiful!” While I had to resist the overpowering urge to either spit on or slap that man, our sweet, old gelato man, as my roommates and I call him, and his innocent little mantra of ciao, bella, has never moved me to any action other than involuntary smiling. When I hear the Italian guys at school yelling down the hall to one of the other female students, ciao, bella, I don’t feel violated; instead, I feel a surge of love for these guys. In Italy, this friendly, yet completely polite greeting means infinitely more than just a short, disinterested introduction to get out of the way before launching into an exhausting story. But my gelato man’s mantra stops and takes time to actually greet you, and to shake hands with your self-confidence.

In the U.S., a country where eating disorders are sadly as common as pasta in Italy, it’s a shame that we Americans don’t greet each other in such a complimentary fashion. Granted, Italians say this to everyone, and I think they would even say it to a donkey’s grandmother, but the tiny little boost of confidence it gives, the warm rosy cheeks it produces are enough to make anyone’s day and to make any woman feel beautiful.

Sorry I haven't blogged in a long time!! I have so much to catch up on (Fall break, Paris, my second trip to Rome, and now after this weekend, Greece!)

But this is from the first part of my fall break, while I was waiting for my parents, Amanda, and Michael to come.

Oct0ber 17-20

They call themselves i nonni, or “the grandparents.” Their faces are creased with age lines upon age lines, their skin weary and permanently tanned from decades of summers running around their Italian childhoods. The three of them, Walter, Benito, and Evalina, sit at the same table in the little piazza right outside of my friend Lauren’s bedroom window everyday. They pass their days watching passers-by, drinking espresso, smoking, yelling at each other with flailing hands one minute, then the next chuckling, the crinkly laugh-lines around their eyes piling on top of the age lines. Time has stopped flying for them – they say it seems as though it’s going backwards, so there they sit, inviting anyone and everyone they knew to stop by and chiaccare, to chat.

It’s difficult to write of each of them separately, as all I know of them has been as the trio, with every moment playing off of each friend in turn, a playful game of tag perfected by years of practice. I met them during the first part of my fall break, while I waited anxiously for my family to come visit me. I was introduced by my friends who live in the apartment above i nonni’s piazza, who was introduced to them by another foreign student, and so on. I’m beginning to see that I am the latest in a chain of frazzled, flighty foreign students who have gravitated to these calm, wise souls patiently guiding us along our quest to practice our italiano, but giving so much more than an opportunity to fumble along in broken Italian; without us even realizing it right away, they slow down time, and in this quiet suspended moment, they teach us more of the Italian way of life and the depths of the Italian language than could ever be absorbed in real time.

First there’s Walter, the joker of the triad, always stretching his mouth into a teasing grin, the whole left side of his goofy smile missing all its teeth, making the effect even more hilarious. Immediately after being introduced to us, he furiously beckoned over the waiter from the café across the street and ordered us each an espresso. The waiter lazily returned with each espresso and a little pitcher of cold milk which he promptly took back when Evalina scolded him as only a grandmother could, saying in Italian, “Why would you bring us cold milk?! What are we supposed to do with cold milk?!” Evalina speaks quickly, her sweet voice trembling with emotion, and the words flow ceaselessly. She kept poking her tongue with her finger saying her mother would tell her she had una lingua lunga, a long tongue, because she never stopped talking. Her husband Benito, on the other hand, hardly speaks at all, but his calm, steady presence at the table is a constant to be relied upon. Their guests, including us students, change daily, hourly even, but Benito continues to sit there, the quiet ying to Evalina’s chattering yang. They, like most couples that have been married for over fifty years, have become two comfortable halves of a whole, and only as a whole do they balance each other out.

As we sat and drank our espresso, Evalina reached over and patted my arm, her big eyes brimming with heartfelt advice to bestow. She told me how she loves talking to i giovani, the young people like us, because our spontaneity and good-heartedness keeps her young at heart. I’m using all my energy to focus and comprehend everything she’s saying that I can hardly come up with adequate responses other than si, si, è vero, or yes, yes, it’s true, but Evalina doesn’t seem to notice – she just keeps going, her paper-thin hands fluttering through the crisp fall air as she rattles on. She advises me in emphatic Italian to parlare con il cuore, to speak with the heart, and pats her chest above her own heart while looking deep into my face. “This way,” she says in Italian, “you will have ‘un’anima tranquilla,’ ” or a tranquil soul. She rests her hand on my cheek as again she searches my face, and apparently finds what she’s looking for as she nods once, and smiles her peaceful smile. Together we glance up from this penetrating conversation for a brief moment to see my friends Angie and Lauren talking with Walter about what they had for lunch. When they tell him we had paninos again, he throws his hands up in disgust and cries “Basta questi panini! Spaghetti! Mangi spaghetti!” or “Enough of these paninos! Spaghetti! Eat spaghetti!” We all take a moment to pause and chuckle at his indignation, before Evalina taps my arm and pulls me back to our conversation.

As I listen, I glance over at Benito. He is still silent as ever, but I now, as I look closer, I see his gaze is intent upon my face as he listens to my feeble responses to Evalina’s heart-to-heart advice. His honest gaze makes me think of the Italian verb sentire which can mean either to listen or to feel. I think maybe these Italians are right, that the act of listening and the ability to feel compassionately are irreversibly intertwined. If only everyone could listen with the earnestness of Benito, or to take a moment to pause from our daily rush and instead, just listen to these gems of the elderly and their stories, our ability to empathize with the people would be so much more pure and patient. I smile shyly at Benito in response to his gaze, and my cheeks burn with intense love for this group of old friends and all their personality quirks that make up the chaotic, but balanced dialogue of their trio.

Eventually time did catch up with Lauren, Angie, and I, and we remembered groceries to buy, hostels to book, plans to make, and the second-hand of our mental clocks groaned as it started its vicious circle again. We made our excuses to i nonni, promising to come back soon, and each of them kissed us on the cheek, and Evalina patted my face again, smiling her trusting smile. Flurries of arrivederci and ciao-ciao flew back and forth until we reluctantly tore ourselves away. Fall break continued, and time flew, as always, but for those two simple hours of speaking cuore a cuore, full of carefree laughing, and endless joking, time stopped out of respect for i nonni, and waited.