Digging for roots

18/06/07 (continued)
Since there are another ten hours left on this train ride, I'm going to continue to write about the rest of my time in Riace today. I wake up and realize that I slept past the alarm. Having told the woman at the restaurant that I would be leaving around 7:15, I had already paid for lodging and had received some juice and snacks for breakfast last night to put in the fridge. I fill up the old lemon soda bottle with Ace, and throw two chocolatey pastries into my bag. I should have taken the other packet of shampoo for good measure, too, but I forgo the shower and rush out the door. I walk down the highway and am at the bus stop around 7:30. The woman at the restaurant had told me 7:50, the man who drove me guessed 8:00, though the boy who hopped in the back said 8:30, and a man I asked near the bus stop yesterday said there must be a bus at eight-something (he had conferred with another, older man, who, though he was unable to give a more specific time for the bus, did tell me that Cuteri was not a name from Riace - Scuteri, yes, but Cuteri, no), so I, not wanting to risk missing it, and having miscalculated the time it takes to walk to the stop, patiently wait, hiding my shins from any more sun, until the bus comes at eight-something.
I hop on, and we cautiously drive a winding road up into the hills that I would never have wanted to walk in such heat. At the top, I pay the €0,85 fare and find myself in front of what be none other than the building I'm looking for. I enter, buzz, and a police officer greets me. I explain what I'm trying to do, and he takes me into the next room, where another officer does a quick search on the computer that yields nothing. However, they point me to a white-haired man in the piazza whose memory is as good as any computer. He's also dubious of finding a Cuteri, since it's Scuteri that's a Riace name, but he takes me upstairs to Carmelina's office anyway. We go over the known information (Maria Cuteri, mother was Virginia Onorata, married Nicola Campagna, born March 5, either 1907 or 1908). The white-haired man starts flipping through a fragile-looking card catalog. Each card he pulls out to examine is a no-go. He pulls another out, examining it longer and bringing it to the desk. Carmelina asks if he found it. My breath shortens, and it's a yes.
Cuteri Maria di Pasquale di Antonio e di Onorata Virginia. Nata nell'anno 1908 mese marzo giorno 5.
They photocopy the card, front and back, and hand the photocopy to me. The date of her wedding is only a few weeks after her fourteenth birthday. Her occupation is "casalinga". At the bottom, there is a note marking her emigration to the Comune of B'lyn, NY, Stati Uniti. And then on the back there are two addresses. The gears in the white-haired man's head are turning as he puts the pieces together. He says he's sure of it now - she must have lived at via Roma, 18. And there was an Adelaide Cuteri, who must have been a sister or something? Anyway, one of her granddaughters lives down in Riace Marina, in fact not too far from my hotel. She married the lawyer, Strati, and they live down there now.
There being plenty of time before I can get back down to Riace Marina on the bus, I ask if I can find the house. He starts to explain to me how to get there, then draws a little map, then just decides to take me there himself. It's barely 30 meters away, but I'm thankful that he accompanied me, since now I have a photographer! He's a little confused by the machine at first, but we get some good photos of me on the stairs to her door and by the address on the wall. Giving him many thanks, I'm off to explore more of town.
In my wanderings, I encounter toothless women, angry dogs, and two young men in neon yellow vests leading donkeys with baskets on their backs to collect the town's trash. I go back to Nonnie's building, and by this time the bar on the ground floor is open. I go in and ask for something to eat and drink. I receive cookies and pear juice. (Most of the bars I've been to in Italy serve paninis, pizza slices, and/or gelato - but this was just a bar-bar, and so there wasn't much there besides liquor.) I get a classy picture of the owner in his special white jacket, grinning toothlessly as he pretends to pour some wine. I also go in the local church to rest a while. A shop that sells artisan goods from Calabria and around the world looks enticing, but it's only open Monday-Saturday from 17:00-19:30, which are quite productive hours, I imagine, so I settle for a tabaccheria/souvenir shop. I get post cards and trinkets and then go to wait for the bus. Another €0,85 brings me down, and I begin the search for the wife of the lawyer Strati.
I wander the strip between the restaurant and the gas station, but not finding the name on any buttons, I go back to the hotel and ask the girl at reception where the lawyer Strati lives. Somewhere on this strip, but she's not sure exactly where. I go to the restaurant and ask the waiter (did I mention how cute he is? Probably a little it younger than I, he shuffles from table to table in his neat black pants and oversized white jacket with the most innocent devilish grin). He doesn't know, but gets the woman who seems to be running the show (although everyone refers to the establishment as "Bruno's", I've never seen said Bruno) and she knows! She starts to describe it to me, but, like the white-haired man before her, she just takes me there. Feeling like a trespasser, I salute the woman working in the garden and tell her that I'm looking for the wife of the lawyer Strati. She suspiciously points me to the ground floor door. I buzz, and another woman answers.
"I'm looking for the wife of the lawyer Strati."
"That's me."
"I think that we are cousins."
Not what she was expecting to hear, I'm sure. I see the husband in the background - she tells him that I say I'm an American cousin, and he tells her to invite me in. She seems a little embarrassed not to have asked me herself first, but I'm invited to the table and given a glass of water. We talk for a while, trying to figure out the family tree. The lawyer Strati, with their baby girl in his arms, helps out, and we deduce that her grandmother Adelaide and my great-grandmother must have been first cousins; it seems that their fathers were brothers. I think. It's all very confusing, and I might want to check the figures later, but we must be related somehow. She and her daughter are probably the only ones in the area anything less than fifth cousins, though, since all the others left for America, Australia, or Milan. I think that she herself was born in Milan, but married this man from Riace. Her mother and aunt still own the house at via Roma, 18 (but not the bar underneath), so it makes sense that she met her husband some summer in the south. I take some photos of the three of them, and say my good-byes. It's a strange pleasure, this whole experience. Now I'll try to sleep through as much of what's left of this train ride (another seven hours) and then one more train to Ferrara, where I will shower, check my e-mail, and eat and sleep to my heart's content.

11.037.600

18/06/07
This journal entry is being written on a 13-hour train ride from Catanzaro Lido to Bologna Centrale. Yup. But first, let's rewind to cover yesterday.
I sleep in and have a shower in the morning, using shampoo for the first time since leaving Ferrara (my shampoo bottle was too bulky to pack, but there were little packets in the tiny little bathroom in my room - sidenote: to use the toilet, which dripped perpetually, you have to put your feet in the shower). I go downstairs and get breakfast in the lobby, where the television first airs mass, and then some show about art that TLC would probably air. After a glass of orange juice and a croissant, I am given directions to the beach (through the back of the hotel) where I will find an umbrella marked with my room number - 32. Before I make it to the beach, I see there is a little patio/playground that I think would be a perfect spot to sit and write in this journal. A small company of ants disagrees, so I move on to the beach, where I find not only the umbrella, but a single fold-up beach chair as well, in a line of red and yellow Stella Marina umbrellas and chairs. I write until maybe noon, then play in the water for a spell, then lay out my towel to tan. The Irish in me beats out the Italian in me, and I now have tingly, rosy arms and shins.
After my fill of the beach, I go back to my room and figure out how to use the television. I do some channel surfing (or "zapping", as the Italians say) and come to the conclusion that Italian television is weird, although probably no more so than American television. I call home and chat with my parents, wishing Dad a happy Father's day and Mom a happy birthday. Granma hadn't come over yet, so after some more zapping, I get a call, and it's her, wishing me a happy birthday. I tell her that I haven't yet been able to find any connections to Nonnie, but I'll be working on it tomorrow. Oh, how happy she'll be to hear all my stories when I get back home! Anyway, it's back to the boob tube, and I come across Will & Grace, dubbed in Italian! The jokes in Italian weren't really funny, but just the fact that they were all speaking Italian was humorous enough in itself.
This whole time I'm snacking on Sticks & Bretzel and a chocolate brioche that I've had since Rome, so I'm not too hungry when I decide that it's starting to get late so I should go to dinner anyway. I order penne alla calabrese and the local white wine to celebrate my birthday. I'm warned that the food will be spicy, but I say that that's fine. As I wait for my meal and nibble on the bread, I notice that the diners are more or less the same faces from the day before. There was a new couple at the table next to me, but the family across the hall and the old friends two tables down are the same. I get my pasta and quickly learn that they weren't kidding - I'm actually having difficulty eating it. Then, within the span of a couple of minutes of each other, every other table gets up to leave. I continue to stuff pasta in my mouth, but the heat, spiciness, and all the emotions of the moment are too much, and I nearly choke up what I have in my mouth. I swallow with a swig of wine, and leaving dignity and decor aside, I get up, leave the penne and wine half-eaten and half-drunk, and go to pay at the counter. I watch some more tv (the Italian under-21 soccer team won their game, but the wrong team won the other game in their bracket, so the Italians unfortunately didn't get to move on) and set my alarm for an early morning.

All the way down

17/06/07
Good morning, Riace Marina! Well, how did I get here? Yesterday, I wake up early in the morning and pack my stuff. I wake Martina up (Andrea[s?], her boyfriend/whatever was in her room, shirtless - awkward), she gives me a bowl of cereal, and I pay her for my stay. I bid Sylia, the big, friendly dog, farewell, and Martina's father drives me to the train station. He goes for a coffee, and I wait for the almost-on-time train. Nothing too exciting about this train to Paola, except for the fact that it's the fourth consecutive train that no one checks my ticket. The next train, Paola to Reggio di Calabria is the interesting one.
It's an overnight that's been going all the way from Milan, but I get on and the first six-person cabin I see is empty, so I sit. My kind of cute guy comes in behind me, leaving one seat between us, but we never end up talking. I take out my "Snack Friends - Sticks & Bretzel (Biscotti Salati per Aperitivi)", which I had bought in Praja, and start munching. A stop or two later, two more men get on - one between me and the cute guy, and the other across from the cute guy. This one sees my snack, and really, there's no hope for peace after that. "Ah," he says, "i biscotti preferiti di Bush." Here we go. I say that they're my favorite biscotti (apparently, pretzels fall under the "cookie" category in Italian) for Bush, since he manages to hurt himself with them. I go back to writing in this journal, and he leaves me alone until I'm finished. Then he asks how Cheney is. I tell him, good, he hasn't shot anyone recently. Now for the most part, he starts discoursing just to lament, somewhat talking to the man next to me (the cute guy has left by now). I try to stay out of it unless he addresses me directly. He talks about how horrible the loss of habeas corpus is. I agree. He says he's not going to America now because the minute he sets foot in the country, he's finished - they can do whatever they want to him. There are no rights anymore. Rights are for the weak, and when the strong have so much power, they don't see a need for rights any more. He asks me if I have money (um, excuse me?) and I say no, I'm lucky enough to be on scholarship to come to Italy. He asks me how I feel about McDonald's. I tell him I hate McDonald's - I'm a vegetarian, and they lied to us about using animal oil in their French fries. So, I told a couple of fibs to create the "I'm-so-liberal-it-hurts" character, but I just didn't want him to start attacking me personally. He has spent a lot of time in Bologna, so he knows Ferrara pretty well. Apparently, the Bolognesi look down on the Ferraresi because they're poor, and up until a few decades ago, all the Ferraresi women were prostitutes. Fascism was also extremely strong in Ferrara. It's a sad town, isn't it, he asks. I have to agree that with the walls and the weather it's a bit slow and depressing, but I still do like it. He and the other man get off a stop or two before me to catch the ferry to Sicily. He asks me to say "hi" to Bush, Laura, Dick and Condoleezza (he had asked me if I thought she was sexy - she kinda dresses like a dominatrix, and he could picture her with a whip - I said "definitely not") and I'm by myself, laughing, until Reggio di Calabria Terme.
In the train station, I ask if there is a map of the city sold in the magazine shop. There isn't, but the woman behind the counter (one of the friendlier and more helpful of the very many women-behind-counters that I have encountered in Italy) tells me that if I keep on walking straight after I make a left out of the train station, after a little over a kilometer, a beautiful walk, I would find the archaeological museum and the Riace Bronzes. I make the walk, briefly stopping at a little park, and pay two Euros admission. There wasn't a place to drop off my backpack, so I may have rushed through most of the museum since the weight was hurting my back and shoulders, but finally I get to the basement with the truly impressive statues. I linger a little, but decide it's time to go. I haven't spent much time in Reggio, and realize that I could take an earlier train and make it to Riace instead of a later one I had planned on originally that would only take me to Roccella, where I would probably have to take a taxi to the hotel. I weakly look for the duomo, but not finding it right away, I just head back to the station to get something to eat and a Fanta. I go to redeem a receipt that I had received in Praja from one of those ticket machines that doesn't give change, and after the man thinks that I had tried to cut in front of the woman who had actually cut in front of me, I get my €3,60. I don't think anyone likes, or know what to do with, those stupid little grey machines. I sit down in the station, and a woman rushes in with her young child by the hair, shoves her onto the seat next to me, and starts to beat her, yelling at her not to move. Two women who were chatting nearby tell the very angry woman to let the child go, and then stand between the two. After a little more yelling, the girl runs away, and I take that as my cue to get up and move to the platform, where it seems they are making repairs on my train. I eat some more Sticks & Bretzel and get a lemon soda before I follow someone onto the train to Roccella. I spend the 45-minunte layover in the cute little town before I look for the train to Riace. It's on track 4, the signs say. The underpass takes you to tracks 2 and 3. 4 isn't even labeled, but I see something that could be it. I ask two men if that is the train to Lamezia (leaving out the word "seriously"). They tell me yes, and I walk across track 3 to board the one-car train to Riace.
I get off after two stops, and I see that this place is, let's say, stark. No signs of life on the street, just some cars that zip by on the highway. Based on my memory of the website, I think I know where the hotel is, and confirm this in the pharmacy. I walk alongside the highway for a bit longer than I may have liked until I see "Stella Marina". I walk in, and tell the woman that I reserved a room. She tells me that this is the restaurant, and the hotel is further down the road. Okay, super. I make it there, and check in with the girl behind the counter. She makes me leave my passport, which I will get when I come back down. I find my not-terribly-clearly-labeled room, turn on the a.c., and relax a bit before going back down. I have to give the girl my address in the States, but then she returns my passport and I order a Fanta. I sit and drink it, and when I go up to pay, I ask her if she knows anyone with the last name "Cuteri". In Riace, no, but in the town over, yes. I tell her about my great-grandmother, and she says that if I go to the Comune of Riace, I can find the birth records, and probably the house she lived in.
I go back to the room to get my backpack, and then follow the girl's directions - towards the train station, left at the traffic light (no possibly confusion here, since there's only one traffic light) and go up. I start going, and get lost. After I hit a dead end, I ask a woman watering her lawn where I might find the birth records. Two men appear and we get into a conversation about my great-grandmother and why I'm here. We chat a while, and I'm told that the Comune is closed by now, and will be tomorrow as well, since it's Sunday, but Monday morning, I can take the bus from the traffic light right up to Riace, and I will be dropped off in front of the Comune. It's about this point when I realize that the don't consider where I am to be "Riace". No, this is "Riace Marina". Riace is a good six or so kilometers uphill. One of the men offers to drive me back to the hotel, and I hesitantly accept. We get in, and as we're about to head off, a young boy hops into the back. We drive down a bit, but stop in front of one building so that I can meet the woman who works at the records office. We're invited up into a very nice kitchen. I'm offered a beer, but decline, then get offered an orange soda, and accept. Today's Fanta count: three. A few more people come in until there are four women, three boys, the man who drove me, and I, sitting around the kitchen table. They all chat for a while, and I mostly listen. They all think it's great that I've come to search for my roots. I take a photo of everyone and we say our good-byes. The man then drives me back to the hotel, telling me on the way the name of the woman who works at the records office - he knows her first name instantly, but has to think about the last name. I kinda like what that indicates about this community. From the back seat, the boy corrects me - "Carmelina" only has one "l". I write the last name and ask him if it's right. He says it's good and I smile.
Back in my room, I get organized and then walk down to the restaurant where, for the first time in my life, I eat dinner in a restaurant alone. It's good - seafood spaghetti - and afterwards the hostess gives me information on the buses for Monday. I'm not sure if she gave me all the schedule information or just edited out what she didn't consider to be "convenient" times, so I'm going to do my own research anyway. So I discovered that this place isn't as desolate as it seemed at first glance, and maybe some good things will come on Monday. Now I've got my birthday to pretty much just hang around the beach and see if there's anything at all going on in town. Maybe the next entry won't be so monstrously long!

Friday in the Park with Czechs

16/06/07
On the road again. I left Praja this morning, and am now on a train to Reggio di Calabria. Yesterday was another good day. Originally, I was told that there was another group that was going to go rafting, so I was going to tag along. However, the plan got changed to an off-road Jeep tour, which ended up being splendid! I had thought that Martina had told me to be ready to leave the hostel at 9:00, but as she handed me a bowl of cornflakes at about twenty till, she said, "you've probably already missed your train by now." So I wolf down the cereal, grab my bag and start hoofin' it to the station. As I'm rounding the first bend that overlooks the sea, a car stops beside me. I'm thoroughly sketched out at first, but then I see the driver is Martina's father! He's driving a friend downtown and offers to drop me off near the station. So I get there in plenty of time to catch the train to Scalea, the next town over. I call Oreste, the guy who runs the rafting/Jeep adventure group, and he says that a Jeep will be over in ten minutes. When it arrives, the driver introduces himself as Francesco, and we chat as we wait for Oreste to bring the other group. They arrive, a family of six that I assumed must be German, and we split up between the Jeeps to get ready to start. I'm in the covered Jeep with Francesco and the grandparents. Pretty soon, we're into the farmland, and then a broad, shallow river. Yes, into the river. They really do mean "fuoristrada". We meander through some beautiful and striking scenery - farms, forests and mountains - with Francesco sometimes driving a little bit off the path to give us a 30°+ angle thrill. We stop and take a short walk up to a waterfall - cool, clear and refreshing. Then, Oreste picks a long blade of grass and loops it up to show us how to catch a lizard. He gets one hooked and plays with it for a while before letting it go. We drive back down, then, and stop by a botanical garden, where there are all the different trees of the national park, except the one that symbolizes the region. I saw a picture of it later - a gnarled, old curmudgeon that grows in the rocks at the mountaintops and lives for centuries, if not millennia. Imagine that. And then as contrast, there are tiny little trees marked with plaques that commemorate the birth of every child in the local town.
We then head off to a mountain town where Oreste, Francesco and I each get an ice cream as the family (who I'm beginning to suspect are not German - their language sounds more Slavic, but Russian doesn't seem right, either) continues to document their whole experience with two video cameras and other still-photo cameras. We ascend to a little grotto with a Madonna statue, and then another hillside takes us to a giant cross with a fantastic panorama. Heading back, I'm in the open Jeep with Oreste, the grandparents and the father, and we are then joined by one of the two daughters. And after a journey of about three hours, Oreste brings me back to the station. The whole time he and I had been using both English and Italian to communicate, but then he said something to me that I couldn't understand. Catching himself, he says, "ah! Now I'm speaking in Czech to you!" So, that's where the family must have been from! Oreste knew probably just enough Czech to say "let's go!" and tell them how much they owed him (which I later found out was more than what I paid - Martina made sure that I got a special rate).
After returning to Praja, I decide to find the church in the mountainside before heading back to the hostel. It takes a bit of wandering the back streets of town, but I finally spot the stairs leading up to the sanctuary - a church that is literally housed in three connected, spacious caverns. I spend a short time there by myself and then descend back down and walk to the hostel.
In the evening arrives Josh, a cute 29-year old who has been spending the last couple of months traveling in Spain and Italy. He, Grace and I have dinner while Martina has yogurt (I swear, I can't deal with these girls and their weight/eating issues any more) and we discuss all the dubiously legal ways that one can extend one's travels around Europe beyond the three months that your traveler's visa allows. Grace and Martina were fine with the idea, but Josh seemed like too much of the classic good Jewish boy to want to risk it. I probably wouldn't, either. Grace still can't walk very well, but the other three of us went out to use Martina's grandmother's dial-up internet, and then we end up in the main square where there's a dance performance going on with a stage decorated with images from Alice in Wonderland. They all seem to be local performers, and some of them aren't too bad, including the girl who was the Alice character, who Martina said was her best friend. We mill around a bit and meet the new mayor! He seems friendly, and Josh was in a bit of a shock to have met the mayor hanging out in the piazza. But, that's just how it goes in an Italian town of 6000 people. It was an interesting place, and Martina's an interesting girl, but now it's time to move on to see what these next few days have in store.

Succeeding at not drowning

Second morning in Praja a Mare. Yesterday was a nice day at the beach. Grace and I went swimming as Martina sunbathed, after pointing us towards a cave that we could go to. The beach was all pebbles and the cliffs were walls of dark grey rock. I hadn't gone swimming in a mighty long time, but after I started getting adjusted, Grace and I decided to find this cave. We found a niche in one wall and decided to try to get in. The water was a bit choppy, so it was somewhat difficult: ride a big wave so that you can grasp a higher rock, and hold on tight so as not to be sucked back into the sea. It took Grace a couple of tries, but I must have gotten the timing just right, since I made it up the first time. The niche proved to be rather small, though I wondered if you could actually climb further up if you had the right gear and the guts. After I got out, Grace pointed me around the corner to what we figured out was the actual cave Martina had told us about. With my claustrophobia mostly suppressed, we swam in through a little tunnel into a bigger space, lit by some sunlight reflecting in the blue-green water.
We exited through the other side of the cave and swam back to Martina. She told us that there was another little beach on the other side of the mountain wall, so we set off. I think we got a little off the path as we scrambled up the mountainside, getting scraped by the rocks and plants as we tried not to slide back down. We found a spot with a nice view to rest for a while before descending to the beach. We swam out below the cliff-jumping arch (22 meters high, they say) to verify that it was deep enough. Grace was convinced, but I knew I would have to see some one do it first.
After relaxing in the mesmerizing waves for who knows how long, we went back to Martina to take us up to the top of the arch. It didn't take long for Grace to decide to jump. I went down back into the waters below, "just in case." Martina told Grace, "even if you don't hurt yourself, you won't be able to breathe once you come up. But don't worry, it's normal." I got into position, and when all were ready, Grace launched herself from the arch, plummeting into the water with an enormously loud splash that took me by surprise. I swam to her and asked if she was alright, since she had let out a huge gasp when she resurfaced. With an affirmative response, we swam back to the beach and climbed back up to meet up with Martina. That's when I noticed blood trickling down Grace's leg. At first she told me that it didn't hurt, but after we got down to the next beach and she washed off the blood, she noticed that there was something wrong with her knees. They sure didn't look right to me, but Martina was convinced that if it were serious, Grace wouldn't be able to walk. "100% of Australians jump," Martina tells us.
We get back to the hostel and all take a little siesta nap. When I wake up, Martina asks if I want to go downtown to get a gelato and so that she can find a girl to ask her some things about a thesis she needs to write. I asked her what class it was for. Making me promise not to laugh, she tells me that she needs to graduate high school. It turns out that she dropped out of school to travel the world when she was sixteen. I don't know how old she is now, but she sure has an amazing life story so far. If you're born in Praja, it's expected that you stay in Praja. Martina's known around town as a bit of an oddity, but maybe things are starting to change. After 27 years of one mafioso mayor, they finally elected a new one, who might be able to boost tourism and turn Praja around. Martina's optimistic, but I cautiously worry that the battle for progress is far from over.

First morning in Calabria

14/06/07
I am in Calabria! Yesterday morning, I took my third exam, then had lunch and got on the train. There was a woman sitting in my seat, and when she noticed that I was looking to sit, she started stuttering a few Italian words, and I laughed and told her I was American, too. Her seat was across the aisle, but she had done some shuffling so that she and her family (husband and boys - I'm guessing from the 4 to 7 range) could sit together. So, I sat down across from her and we chatted intermittently. "I like your ribbon," she said, referring to the rainbow on my backpack, "I have a brother who plays for your team." Certainly friendly and outgoing. Turns out they were from Portland, Oregon, but had decided to take ten months off as a family and see the world. They had been through Australia, New Zealand and Asia, and by month eight, they had reached Italy. The got off in Florence, and the rest of my train to Rome was uneventful.
I have nothing good to say about the children on the train from Rome to Salerno.
Third train, Salerno to Praja - I'm probably the only foreigner on the train. I sit down and take out my knitting. The conductor passes by checking tickets, but he passes me right by. Couldn't tell you why. The train starts to slowly empty, and after some excitement between the conductor and some man who seemed to have cheated the system somehow, my car is reduced to me, and someone behind me, who sneezes every so often. After a bit, he comes and strikes up a conversation with me, as I comically am trying to undo a nasty knot in the yarn. He's a young, local man, getting off at the same stop as I. He knits, too, and tries to help me with the knot, but it's futile. We get off, and he accompanies me until I meet up with Martina, the girl who runs the hostel. The friendly young man bids me farewell with kisses on the cheeks, and I'm off in the car with Martina and her boyfriend, Andrea.
We get to the beach and find the rest of the guests, six girls (Three Aussies, a Brit, an American, and a girl from Singapore), around a small bonfire. Some people go back to the hostel around midnight, but the rest of us stay out until about one. When I finally get to the hostel, I realize that it's basically just Martina's family's house, and we're staying in the bright, little attic.
In the morning, almost everyone packs up and leaves after Martina makes us some crepes and I get to meet her parents and dog. The remaining girl, Grace, a quiet, fair girl from Queensland and I go into town to get some food for later. The town is nothing much, really, and the main road was in the process of being re-paved. After making some small purchases, I head back and find my way back to the hostel as Grace tries to find a bank.
Off to a good start, I'd say. Nine hours of train travel actually wasn't bad at all, since it was nicely split up. Today looks like it will bring cliff-diving and tomorrow is rafting, it seems. We'll see how all that goes!

Lida-Rose, I'm home again

Well, Ferrara-home, that is. I survived Calabria! I spent a lot of time down there writing a journal to document my experiences, so I will try to type that all up (about 13 hand-written pages, I think?) and post it in installments, so that those of you who blog-check as obsessively as I do (I still check Budzy's on a regular basis) will have a new story every day or so for a little while. But I don't have that all with me right now, so it's going to have to wait. Also, Amanda's coming tomorrow, so who knows if I'll actually keep up with these best intentions.
Peace!

Quickie

Okay, three exams done, one to go! But first, I need to go to Calabria! I'm leaving in a couple of hours, so I'm going to go get ready now. Excited but scared. If I'm not back in a week, well, then I've been kidnapped by the 'ndrangheta. Wish me luck!

Colin Penley says this post has 1,186 words in it. You have been second-handedly warned.

It's a Tuesday afternoon, and I'm on my computer in the school library. Figured I would do some blogging, not really knowing where this post is going. Let's see... what has been going on lately? Well, I've planned my trip down to Calabria. I booked a hostel in Praja and a hotel in Riace, and I should really go buy train tickets soon. The hotel in Riace is the same hotel that I had booked for me and Dan last April that we never ended up reaching. Being an asshole, I never called them to let them know. So this time, I called and told them the dates I wanted and the type of room I wanted. They asked for my phone number, but not my name. They called me later, and I told them again what type of room I wanted and this time they asked for my name. Then they asked me if I didn't already try to book one of their rooms last April... um, yeah, sorry about that. They asked me to send them a fax with the dates and the type of room that I wanted (wait, haven't we been over this? twice?), so the next day I was able to do that at the super-cheep internet place on Via Garibaldi. Hopefully that all went through and they don't hate me!
I don't exactly have much of a plan for when I get there. Hopefully I'll make it to the Museum in Reggio di Calabria where the Bronzi di Riace are kept. They're two big bronze statues from the fifth century BCE that were found in the waters near Riace in the seventies. The hostel said that it can find things for you to do in the National Park, so I hope to spend a day or two hiking. With any luck, I will remember my camera and y'all can see pretty, pretty pictures!
What else is new? I finally took an exam! Linguistics. I took the written at 9:00am, then came back at noon to wait for the oral portion. We didn't get through everybody during that time slot, so I had to come back at 4:30. I was out by 5:30. So, that's eight and a half hours to take an exam, only about seventy-five minutes of which were spent actually taking the exam. My efforts on the written part earned me 27 out of 30 points, and then with the oral I recovered the last three for a perfect 30! *pats self on back* For the oral, you had to prepare a topic and then be ready to answer a few questions that the Professor asks you at random. The topic I chose was Sign Languages, and how they are actual "storico-naturali" languages, not just purely iconic mimicry. I had a lot of information to relate and did so not exactly eloquently - I basically blurted out all my points in random order without connecting one to the other, or making any transitions whatsoever - but the professor seemed impressed anyway. Hopefully I can do as well on the next three! Although I'm possibly going to have some problems with my theatre exam, since the book that I chose to read for it still hasn't arrived. I ordered it on May 3. Yeah, a month. Yesterday, I sent a stern e-mail to the bookstore ("Melbookstore" - I kid you not) asking if they could give me an exact date of arrival, or could direct me to a place or phone number so that I could go get the book myself, and that if the book didn't arrive in due time, I would be asking for my deposit back. (It was three euros, but it's the principle of the thing, man!) So, if I don't get that book I'm going to have to pick a new one that's actually in the school library and get it photocopied so I can read it by next week. Erp. Cutting it close, I know, I know! But y'all know me - I live dangerously!
Speaking of dangerous living, I found theatre people! One night last week I went to use the internet at the location that's further from my house, but has a slightly better signal, since I was so pissed off about constantly losing signal the night before. Anywho, as I was arriving, I noticed that the door to the CTU (University's theatre center) was open, and the light was on. I poked my head in the door, which lead me to a courtyard. Inside the building itself, there was music, and people shouting and moving. Clearly, theatre was a-foot! I lingered in the courtyard until a girl came out of the building. I promptly accosted her, asking what was going on here at this hour (getting close to midnight). She said that their rehearsal had just ended, and so I wouldn't be disturbing if I went in. So, nervously, I did. I introduced myself to the people who were milling around, including the director, who told me that they were putting on an Aristophanes play (Thesmophoriazousai, I think, but they were using a different title - women at the Senate, or something like that? Anna, help me out here). Then I awkwardly stood in a corner while everyone else was gathered back together by the director so that he could give a little talk and set the time for the next rehearsal. They all bickered and teased, and it made me smile to know that theatre people in Italy really aren't much different from theatre people in the USA.
Then after people really started to get going, one of the guys, Nicola, asked me if I wanted to come out with a group of them - they wanted to get a bite to eat, and since it was Wednesday, the "going out" night for Ferrara, they figured they'd make a night of it. So, I tagged along! We first went to this place that I had heard of, but had never been able to find before, where you can play cards and board games while you eat. Apparently they had run out of food, so we decided to find another place. We ended up at a piadina stand near the walls, and then worked our way towards Da Settimo, but never actually made it inside, since one of the girls decided to park herself on the ground a few meters away. So, we just stood there, talking and joking until we decided it was time for bed. Nicola and I exchanged phone numbers, and he walked me part of the way back home. He said he would call me for an aperitivo with the group on Sunday, but that never ended up happening, so he said he'd call me the next time.
Being aware of the fact that I'm leaving in a month, I still think that it's worthwhile to develop these friendships, even if they might not last. I don't want to give up before I've crossed the finish line. I mean, isn't this all part of the journey?

Minus ten Wisdom

So, I went into one of the computer labs to jet off a quick e-mail, but the girl behind the desk there told me that I had to register to use the computers. I've been coming to this lab for about three months now, and that's the first time I've ever been asked to sign in to the computer lab. Anyway, I did, and now I feel too awkward to get up and leave after using the computer for five minutes, so I'm going to blog! Beati voi!
So, I have pretty much failed at taking exams. No, I haven't failed any exams (yet! someone knock on wood for me - there isn't any in reach) - I've just failed at taking them. In fact, I have not taken a single exam yet. I had thought that I would be half done by now, but alas, that did not happen. I thought that my linguistics exam was Tuesday. So, on Monday I went to the library, checked out the book on Morphology that we need to read, and read the entire thing in one afternoon. Okay, not the entire thing, I skipped like two chapters and glanced over the material that I already knew, but still! I was so productive! I return the book, and go upstairs to check what time the exam is. That's when I find out that I wrote down the wrong date, and the exam is actually next Tuesday. Oops. Well, I like to think of it as getting a head-start on studying.
Now today was a whole other fiasco. Taber and I were all prepped up for Etnomusicologia. On the boards where exam dates and locations were posted, it had only said that the exam would be in the "studio", so it took a bit of asking around before I figured out which studio. He had told us in class one day, so luckily while I was reviewing Arabic suites, I noticed the note I made to myself: "24/05/07 11,00 studio Fabbri" Excellent! I'm so there. So I get there early to reinforce some learning ("reinforce learning" sounds a whole lot better than "cram," don't you think?) and text Taber, letting her know where the exam is. We're there. No one else is. We worry. We ask the guy in the studio next door - he knows nothing. I go down to the portineria and Taber goes to the other facoltà and calls the tutor. A whole lot of nothing. Everyone's perplexed, and no one can get in contact with the professor. Then the man behind the desk at the portineria (who I swear doesn't actually speak Itailan - it sounds like some sort of dialect, which I'm sure is totally comprehensible to Italians, but does not make things easy for me!) shows me on the online registration page for the class that the appello is in June. I try to explain to him that yes, there is an appello in June, but this one down here, the one under "appelli trascorsi" is today.... ... .. . oh, cavolo. It's yesterday. Our professor had told us in class 24 maggio, and on the boards in the facoltà it was written 24 maggio, but online, it was 23 maggio.
Well, fortunately I can make it to the June appello. Taber is going to have some more difficulty, because she's going home before that, which just plain sucks. Hopefully she can get in touch with the professor and they can arrange something. As for me, it's possibly going to affect my travel plans, and I might be doing Calabria and Sicily in the middle of June in stead of the beginning, but we'll see.
In other news, Ferrara is getting hot! It's a little bit on the oppressive side, but the smell of the trees is somehow still amazing.
OH! Before I forget, new pictures have been added to Shutterfly! I'm lacking on the descriptions, but I think they're still fun to look at!
Okay, peace out, y'all

Tibfucius

People who use cellphones with small, nearly invisible headsets sometimes startle me. They are speaking out loud in public, but, at first glance, I can't figure out whom they are addressing. It's even more perplexing when they are walking the dog. Reflect on this.

*<8-)

The minute I walked out of the apartment today, I knew that it was a good day. I didn't know why, but I knew that it was good. The sun was shining, it was warm, and I had a smile on my face. I bike to class, thinking that maybe all this biking actually is having a positive impact on my health, and get to class on time. An Italian that we call "the Fonz", because he has a certain swagger and audacity that falls gloriously short of our American icon, was in class today for the first time in what seems like a month. He's flirting with the French girl, and when it's time to get things started, he saunters back towards his seat by the open windows. Which he didn't notice were open, resulting in a sharp thwack as his forehead hits the glass in front of him. He shakes it off jokingly and Professor Cherchi starts the lesson, explaining various aspects of the syntax that Boccaccio uses. He's talking about pronouns, and how their position in the time of Boccaccio was much more variable than today. Boccaccio could write "lui me lo disse", "lui lo mi disse", and various other structures. -Ma oggi, 10 maggio, 2007 - he writes the date on the board - sapete che cos'è oggi? Oggi è il mio settantesimo compleanno! - ...wait, really? Yes, really. Today, our professor turned seventy. And he brought us pastries, potato chips, coke and juice to celebrate! I didn't believe it as I watched it happening: this grand old man pulling out bags and baskets of food and drink from under the desk, then all of us students timidly going up to get a slice of cake and a glass of ace. We eat, drink, and are quite merry. We sing "tanti auguri a Lei". After a while, things settle down, and Cherchi says that he's clearly not going to be continuing the lesson where he broke off. But he does go off into another one of his usual orations, where it sounds scholastic, so I take notes, but it's really nothing more than Cherchi musing on what it means to study the history of the Italian language. I love listening to him. He jokes - chi vorebbe mai avere settant'anni? Chi ne ha già sessantanove. - Quite the class to remember.

Dear Colin,

Clearly, I had to dedicate this post to Penglin, since last night Adam and I decided to go to Venerdìverso, at Renfe. Renfe is the club outside the walls of Ferrara, and Venerdìverso is a theme night on the last Friday of every month with the subtitle "Gay, Lesbian and Everyone We Know". In January, we had a birthday party to go to instead. In February, I was sick. In March, I was in Spain. So, April rolls around, I'm not sure if there will be one this month, but I finally see the posters the day of Venerdìverso. I tell Adam about it. We decide to go. We meet Jen at Settimo, the bar where Ellen works, and hang out there for a while. I try a gin and lemon, which Ellen makes slightly strong. Then, at about 01,30, we set off, the two of us, past the walls and out into the unknown. It's about a twenty minute walk, and we're both pretty sketched out by the whole situation. We know that it's a club, and we know what this entails: loud, bad techno and creepy people. We finally arrive, and it's not quite as hopping as we probably had been anticipating. It's this little old building with some people outside, smoking cigarettes or talking with the security guard. The sketchometer is climbing, and we stand outside and weigh our choices. Finally deciding that we really just have to go in, we show the guard our Arcicards (or, rather, Adam shows the guard his Arcicard and I show him Jen's) and we step in. We open the door from where we had seen neon lights and heard pounding music. We walk in, and the only word to describe what we saw is "underwhelming". A crowd of no more than thirty people, maybe eight of whom are dancing. Slightly more women than men, and nobody is noticeably under 30 years of age. We stand near the exit. We stare. No one stares back. We give each other a glance, and well over sixty seconds after our grand entrance, we make our great escape. I think we're proud of ourselves, because we did it. We went to Ferrara's club to go to the gay night, all by ourselves, to see what we could see. And then it sucked, so we left.
Moral of the story: it's nice not to care. I have not had a crush since I've come to Italy, and it's not strange. Yes, I did shower and shave before going out last night, and had on one of my nicer shirts, but I knew that I wasn't looking for anything, or anyone. Without expectations, hopes, or my standard delusions, I never gave disappointment a chance to cross my path.
Am I a more relaxed person being in Italy? Or am I less passionate? Less stressed or more dull? Sinceramente, non me ne frega, perché sono contento.

Mood swing

I do love the smell of trees in the springtime. I was biking over here to the facoltà, and the scent of the flowering trees outside of one of the many churches I passed filled my head. That, among other things, got me into the spirit to write a proper blog post.
Quick note about my travels around Italy with DK - since we didn't buy our tickets a day or two in advance, we were unable to get down to Italy's toe to see the town of Riace, where my great-grandmother was born. Economically, this was great, since it probably saved us about 100 dollars each, but otherwise it was a disappointment. I do resolve to go back later, possibly in May or June, which I slowly am realizing are coming up sooner and sooner. Why, we're more than half-way through with April! One of my courses has already ended meeting, so all I really need to think about is the exam. It's a bit sad, since it was my favorite: etnomusicologia.
Anywho, the really exciting news is that I may have just found a subject for my thesis! About a month ago, Adam, Taber and I went to see our landlady's art show set up in a little shop in the medieval part of town. Afterwards, Adam told me that Flavia (the landlady) had told him that the shop had lots of local works, and might have some plays. So today I went in, asked the man who was there, and found a play written by a Ferrarese. I've barely opened it, but Federico, the man in the shop, told me that it is a comedic play set in Ferrara in the 1500s, and is all about the court of the Este family. Some of it is in rhyme, and there are many antiquated forms, so it could be awfully tough, but for my thesis, I think that I could translate it. Federico told me that it's never been translated into English, and if I do it, he would certainly want to read it, since it seems that he speaks some English, as well. I would have to write notes on the text as well, which would require a whole slew of historical research. So, it should be challenging enough. There's also a film adaptation that could help me out pretty seriously. I'll have to read the whole thing first before I start to get too into this idea, but you never know what this might lead to! Baruffino Buffone, what do you have in store for me?

And now for your viewing pleasure....

Sorry y'all, but I've only got a quick one for now. The trip to Spain and then touring Italy with Dan was amazing, but I just can't seem to capture it all in words right now. If you want to know a little more, check out Dan's blog (linked on the side). The main reason I'm here is to announce my shutterfly site, which should be working now. I've finally labeled everything from the most recent trips, although some other Italy pictures are as of yet unlabeled. Hope you all enjoy!
ktierneyphotots.shutterfly.com

€0,24 for my thoughts

Ferrara takes its time, I have noticed. Practically all of Italy does. Maybe not all the Italians, but the city and the country do. What does this mean? It means that here, it takes a few days to get things done, like, for example, getting my student discount ticket for the trains reprinted (I lost the paper ticket that gives me discounts, which they gave me when I bought the cartaviaggio... the cartaviaggio card itself arrives in about a month. Again, taking its time) . It means that if you want milk Sunday afternoon, you can go out and buy it Monday when the supermarkets open again. But it also means that there is time to exchange a smile, a "ciao," or due chiacchiere. There's time to cook a pizza slowly so that it comes out just right. There's time to give help and (often unsolicited) advice to strangers.
Just a few minutes ago, I went to a copisteria to photocopy the chapters I need from one of the books for my theatre class. I don't think I'm a felon yet, since I copied only a few dozen pages out of a couple hundred, but it really wouldn't have mattered if I had wanted to copy the entire thing three times and sell it to my friends for a marked-up price, because the girls who work there would still smile and let me, as some one's little brother came in with his big, black dog. I had copied 31 pages, at a rate of €0,04 per page, based on what I gathered from to the card that was keeping track of my copies. When I went to pay, the girl took my card, fed it to the machine, and after she read the screen, said "€1,24, quindi, diciamo €1,20... anzi, €1,00." I took out a Euro and a 20 cent piece, but she would only take the Euro. "Uno sconto," she told me. I don't know of any business in the US would let 24 cents slip away so easily, but it happens all the time in Italy, enough that it probably karmaically rounds out in the end. Then when I went to the library to return the book that I had just copied, the woman there took the time to teach the new intern how to enter a book back into the system on the computer while I stood there. They assume that you have the time to spend. And so you give it to them. And then when all the business is done, you smile at each other, thank each other, and bid each other farewell. If you ever come to Italy, and I encourage you to do so, don't save anything for the last minute, because your sense of temporal proportion will be all off. In the US, you can run in anywhere, grab what you want, throw some money on the counter, and before you know if the person behind the counter was a person at all, you've got your change and you're out the door. Here in Ferrara, budget in some extra time for the... I don't know what to call this demeanor, so let's say... the Ferraresità.

Rain, rain, go away

Rainy day! boo! Rainy Sundays here are pretty dreary, since there really is absolutely nothing to do. I'm currently sitting outside one of the University buildings, precariously sheilding my laptop from any rain that might blow in my direction. Yesterday, Adam, our three guests and I went to Venice for the afternoon/evening. It was nice, and we took a water bus, so I was glad to have gotten onto the water, since the buildings on the water are really a sight, but I still need to go back and spend a full day there. Both times I've been, I've really only walked around, had dinner, and then left. There must be so many more things to do and see and enter. I might just have to take some time for myself some weekend and explore it at my own pace.
Anyway, here's another little post that I wrote last night:

Saturday, March 24
Gli amici dei miei amici sono i miei amici
I'm really liking my linguistics class now. We've moved past the things that I had memorized long ago (IPA chart... what? It's cool) and are getting into some definitions of concepts that I either didn't have a good grasp on before, or that I had never heard of, so it's definitely feeling like I'm learning now.
More importantly, however, class itself has recently gotten much more fun. See, it's a class of maybe fifty students, and I'm the only American. It was kinda intimidating for a while, since everyone seemed to know most at least one other person. So, for the first few weeks I sat alone and was pretty self-conscious of the fact that I clearly had no friends in this roomful of people. But, that has now changed! Those kids that I talked to the other day in class have taken a liking to me, and now I sit with them. I talk a lot with one of them in particular, Giuseppe. A week after we met, I showed up at the University building, and I see him and Manuel, one of the others that I met. Giuseppe tells me that class has been cancelled. Oh, Italy. Manuel had things to do, but Giuseppe and I had the rest of the day basically free. He lamented that he basically got up out of bed for nothing. He didn't feel like studying, so he asked me, "facciamo un giro?" I said "sì," we got on our bikes, and started biking aimlessly through the city. We wandered for maybe fort-five minutes, talking about various things, until we ended up back at the building we started at. We parked our bikes, went inside to sit down, and then just kept on talking for nearly another two hours. It was amazing! He studies English, so sometimes I teach him little things here and there, and he'll help me with my Italian. It's a really good feeling to be having conversations, making friendships, and making someone laugh, in italiano. I haven't been getting enough of that lately. We've got three houseguests presently, so it's hard to practice Italian. So, I really treasure my interactions with Giuseppe and the others. He lives generally in the same direction as I do, so yesterday he and I biked together until we got to my apartment (which couldn't really possibly be completely on his way) but he took me in a slightly different route that doesn't involve the kinda intense cobblestones of Via Ercole I d'Este, so I think I'm going to keep with that one.
On my way to class I had fallen off my bike, scraped up my knee decently and bruised my shoulder. It was on my street, which was empty, so I wanted to see how fast I could go. Well, the left handlebar grip, which I had noticed had been wiggling for a while, under all the pressure I was putting on it came off the bar, thus placing all of my upper body force onto the right handlebar. Physics, gravity, acceleration, inertia, pavement. An old woman turned the corner as I was picking my bike up off the ground (I think she probably heard me cursing in English while I was walking off the pain). She asked if I had fallen, if I had hurt myself, told me to tell the bike-store man about what happened since it's a rent-a-bike and it would be bad if the same thing happened to other people, and when I said that I was renting it for a few months, she gave me directions to the bike mechanic's. I thanked her, and although I wasn't really interested in going to the mechanic since a little bit of glue should fix it, it was good to know that when someone falls there are people who would help him out. Maybe that's why I smile.

Floodgates after a drought

Hi everybody! I've got a lot of blogging for y'all today. In the past couple of days, I've gotten onto a kick of writing, but haven't been able to find time to get online. I wrote everything on, er, WordPad (Agatha lost Microsoft Word... explanation later) and now I've organized it all into three "posts", dated either by date of writing, or date of the events described. Enjoy! (Don't expect that this explosion means that posts will become more regular, or anything like that. Everything I do is result of freak accident. No rhyme, no reason. Sorry, but that's how it happens in this mind.)
Enjoy!

That's Bologna!

Written Monday, March 12
I like this. This is cool. I'm smiling, and a lot. Okay, where to begin? Well, I just went to a class that I'm not enrolled in, because in my linguistics class today the professor told us that if we had the time, we should go to this class, because it would be on sign language today. Easy choice. I'm there. It was just fun to learn a little bit about the structure of LIS (Italian sign language), even though we just barely touched the surface. Oh, and there was a word that took me a very long time to understand, but I finally got it. The professor was talking about questions: there are yes/no questions, and eiquworhfiuqehwof questions. I couldn't decipher what he said at all, at first. Then, slowly, I began to piece together the sounds and figure out the meaning. "doppiavuacca" questions. What is that? you might ask. Literally, "double-u aitch" questions. wh- questions. Is that what they really call those in Italian? Has English so totally corrupted the Italian language that the description of a grammatical concept relies on our "who", "what", "when", "where", "why" and "which", in stead of their "chi", "cosa", "quando", "dove", "perché" and "quale"? I love how Italian is slowly becoming English.
Another thing: before the class began, I arrived in the classroom, which looks out over the courtyard of the faculty. All of a sudden, I hear singing from outside. Somebody had just graduated (there are little groups of graduates basically every week, here. I guess that not everyone graduates at the same time, so every so often I'll find a huge mass of relatives crowding the place, taking pictures and talking with their enrobed daughter/son, niece/nephew, whathaveyou) and her friends were all crowded around her, in front of a poster that they had made for her, singing Gaudeamus Igitur. Let us rejoice, therefore. That brings me way back to sixth grade Latin, where we learned the traditional graduation song. Crazy.
AND! I finally got the chutzpah to talk with some of the kids in my linguistics class (the one that I'm actually enrolled in [not that I'm actually enrolled - you don't enroll for classes, you enroll for the exams, and this doesn't happen until later, I think], not the one I went to today for the hell of it). I am planning on attaching to them like a remora for the remainder of the class. They were three Ferrarese guys, and I've sat near them a few times and heard them throwing out little phrases in English, so today before class started I asked them if they study English. Obviously, they do, and I explained that that's my mother tongue (is there a less awkward way to express this in English? All I can think of right now is the Italian word "madrelingua"... boh). They ask, and so I tell them that I'm from the USA, little town near Boston, you know, the standard questions. (none of them asked me what I see from out my window...) We got to talking and joking (! I can make people laugh in Italian!) and it was just generally a nice exchange. Next Friday's objective: learn their names.
Oh, and I took a trip to Bologna yesterday by myself. It was short, and I didn't see too much, but I did get to the the archeological museum. The basement is entirely on Egypt and is really cool. I loved learning about the various writing systems they had - hyrogliphics also had a "cursive" version, and then as Egypt was Christianized, the Greek alphabet was borrowed and adapted for their language and for the first time, they had vowels! Or, at least that's what I think the signs said. Whatever, it was cool. And then upstairs was a shitton of Roman, Greek and Etruscan stuff, most of which was specifically Bolognese. It was an overwhelming amount of material - you really can't appreciate every individual piece, because there are just too many, and they aren't really individually labeled in a museum-type fashion. It's more like a library, if you ask me: if you were curious about the arm ornament that was found in a specific tomb in a specific locality in Bologna, you could find it and look at it. But otherwise, it almost just mixes in with all the other findings. And the last thing I did before I returned was stop at the Nutelleria and order a piadina alla Nutella. Which is basically a toasted pita filled with Nutella and sprinkled with powdered sugar. Yeah, happy day. Better than Saturday's Midd-sponsored trip to Siena, which just kinda sucked. I'm going to have to re-do that one with the family.
I've still got a bit of a cold, but I have managed to get a whole lot of sleep every night, which is nice. Okay, to the next post!

"If you are lucky" should not appear on any message from tech support

Written Friday, March 9
I just cooked myself a delicious, balanced meal. I may have cooked too much, but I ate it all, and my stomach is quite content right now. Chicken nuggets under ziti in a tomato sauce with eggplant, peppers and zucchini. It was simple, yes, but I did it all myself and did it right. I've done good pasta before, but this is the first time that I neither burned nor undercooked the nuggets. And it all went together with a healthy sprinkling of parmegiano cheese. That's a good feeling. Maybe it just tasted so good because it was 8:30 in the evening and all that I had had to eat was two turkey sandwiches at noon. Maybe it was because today was speckled with little things that went wrong and this was something that went absolutely right. Nothing too major, really. Missing a call from my landlady (no big deal, it turned out, she was just calling to tell me that the guy she was going to show around the apartment on Sunday called and cancelled), not being able to figure out how to request a book from the library, the copisteria being closed early when I went to get some packets for a class, dropping some groceries, losing track of time and nearly forgetting to go to class, forgetting to turn off my cell phone in class and getting two (honestly barely audible) text messages, breaking the drying rack, not having the guts to start a conversation with an Italian before class started. Little things, but things that can really get you down. But truth be told, there's really a lot more positive than negative in my life here in Ferrara. The weather's getting much better, and I often go out without a jacket. Tomorrow I'm going with a bunch of other students in the Middlebury program in both Ferrara and Florence on a paid-for-by-Middlebury (minus lunch... whatever) trip to Siena, which is supposed to be gorgeous, though I know nearly nothing about it. After having issues with my computer, reinstalling the hard drive and continuing to have issues, I called Dell again and a guy from Dell Italy came to the apartment, gave me a new motherboard and memory, and I haven't had any real problems since. Seeing as the computer was basically given new life, I have decided to give it a new name. Henceforth, she shall be known as Agatha. She's still old, but hopefully she will indeed be "good". I like all of my classes and professors, and one of the (two) Italians in my music class started a conversation with me the other day, curious about things in America, like how the universities are different. Anyway, hopefully everything continues on this positive trend.

What do you see when you look out your window in the morning?

Events of Saturday, March 3
Well, Jen, Taber, Adam and I decided to go to Verona. Jen and Taber got on the earlier bus while Adam and I slept in, getting there seperately. Adam had friends in Verona that he wanted to meet up with, so he took a bus directly from the train station in the general direction of where they were, and so I was left alone at the train station with a freshly bought map of Verona (in italiano!) and a text message from Jen telling me to meet them at Castelvecchio. I march out of the station, not really sure in which direction I'm going, hoping to get my bearings by finding a main road and identifying it on the map. So as I'm at a street corner, map unfolded, I hear someone speaking to me - scusi, signore, ma Lei è un turista anche? - It's a girl about my age, accompanied by a boy aslo of my age. She had asked me if I was also a tourist. I tell her yes, and she says that they are, too, and that they don't know where they're going, and so she asks if they can follow me for a while, since I've got a map. I say sure, and so the three of us set off together. Oh, yeah, I still hadn't really gotten my bearings yet, so I still am not totally sure where we are. So after a few - questa via potrebb'essere... se non sbaglio... non sono certo... andiamoci! - from me, the girl stops another man we pass in a little piazza with gardens. I take out my map, which promptly falls apart, the map separating from the cover. Well, I give the map to the man, pocket the cover, and we establish for certain where we are, and where we're going. They want to go to the arena ( -c'è un arena? - I ask) but I need to meet the girls at Castelvecchio. It's pretty easy to get from one to the other, so we head towards Castelvecchio, where we will split up and go our separate ways.
On the walk we had some great conversation. I told them that I was from the United States, and they were instantly curious. - Quando Le sveglia nella mattina, che cosa vede dalla Sua finestra? - she asked me. That was possibly my favorite question. I told her that when I wake up in the morning, I see the woods outside of my window.
I asked them where they were from. She's from Sicilia, and he's from Trieste, which is great, he says, since he's so close to Slovenia, where cigarettes cost half of what they do in Italy! I tell him that I'll have to visit. They ask me about American universities, and I explain to them that there's a lot more choice in the courses that you take, but the workload is intense, and you've constantly got things to do. When I told them that I study theatre, they got really excited. It seems that not a lot of students actually study theatre in Italian universitie; if you want to go into the theatre, you go to a much more specialized sort of school. We walked at a leisurely pace, and the girl would get excited and stop at various things that caught her eye: some of the most lavish-looking gelato displays we'd ever seen, and a store that was displaying fairy figurines. - Mi piacciono tanto le fate! - she shouted. The whole walk was filled with questions, descriptions of where we all lived, and lots of smiles. We finally arrive at Castelvecchio, where Taber and Jen had been waiting probably for a decent while, do some quick introductions (she's Cristina, and he's Stefano), Jen takes a picture of us, and the Italians are off towards the arena. Thinking about them now, I still can't help smiling. They were so friendly and curious, and I felt comfortable talking with them in Italian. It was a little strange that Cristina (I'm not sure if Stefano did this) always adressed me as "signore" and used the formal, which is something that people generally do when talking with people of some sort of higher status or while conducting official business, although you can use it when talking to a stranger, but this was the first time that another young person used it while speaking with me. I was fortunately able to avoid the decision between tu and Lei ("you" informal and "you" formal) by just using voi ("you" plural).
The rest of the Verona trip was also very snazzy. The girls and I went then to the arena, which just happens to be the third largest Roman gladatorial arena. Not too shabby. There was (re-?)construction going on in the center, but we got to climb up into the audience and check it all out. Nowadays the arena is used for operas and ballets, but it was crazy to think of all the things that the people of the Roman empire saw in there: gladitorial fights, wild animals from regions they'd only dreamed of, and a heck a lot of blood. Times have changed, I suppose.
The next stop was the Piazza delle Erbe, where there used to be herb-selling markets. Now they've got all sorts of little stands and restaurants. The notable thing about this place is the frescos on the faces of the buildings. These are people's apartments now. How amazing would it be to live in the heart of Verona with a I-don't-know-how-many year-old fresco on your balcony? Pretty sweet. There's also a giant pillar with the Lion of St. Mark on the top at one end of the piazza. St. Mark is the patron saint of Verona, so you see those all over the place. Reminded me of high school, not going to lie. Go blue and white, what do we eat?, zebra meat!, yeah yeah yeah. We waited around there for a while before Adam showed up with his two friends, Ruma and Rachel. They're doing a program with UGA in Verona, which is not a bad deal at all. We had a lunch of paninis, and then Ruma had to go to some appointment, but not before we all went to see a big statue of Dante, who came to live in Verona after being exiled from Florence. So then it was the four Middkids and Rachel, who has an incredible memory for fun historical factoids. She had been on a brief tour of Verona, and basically recited everything back to us, which was fantastic, because we wouldn't have noticed so many details otherwise.
The next thing we wanted to see was the amphitheatre and monastery. On the way there, Rachel pointed out a big bridge spanning the river. It was mostly brick, but a large part of it was white stone. Apparetnly, the white stone is original from about 2500 years ago. We dubbed it the "Jesus Bridge" since it was around when Jesus was. Adam was really excited to walk on a bridge that Jesus had been on. We pointed out that Jerusalem is actually pretty far from Verona, but Taber pointed out that God wouldn't have let his only son die without seeing Italy, so clearly, Jesus had in fact walked on that bridge.
So anyway, we get to the amphitheatre and I just freak out. It's a Roman amphitheatre. Like the arena, I just marveled at how the Romans just really knew how to build things and we just plain don't. The acoustics are amazing, and seating isn't plush velvet, but it sure is easy. Everyone else started wandering up the stairs on the hillside towards the monastery, but I lingered in the amphitheatre, making sure to explore every crack and crevice before I ascended. It felt simply amazing.
Okay, this post is huge. Congrats for making it this far. I've covered my favorite things, so I'll start to wrap it up here. We went to see the monastery/archeological museum, Juliett's house, and a nice bar with awesome aperitivi. I think we did gelato, too. Anyway, I am definitely dragging my family back there when they come in July, because it was just that much fun and I want to do it all over again.

That's all for now, folks! Love to all!

Gay Paris!

Wait, did I really go to Paris?
Yes, yes I did. I hung out with/ran into no fewer than a dozen different Middkids plus some other friends of friends, and generally had a blast. The hostel was kinda dirty, but also friendly. The food was good, except for that wok place that made me sick (you don't want to know the details). Traveling was hell. We walked EVERYWHERE, and got to have fun on the metro systtem, but I feel like the vast part of my time was spent just enjoying the company of the people around me. The sights of Paris were almost secondary.
Okay, the Eiffel Tower was pretty sweet. We were there for four hours, it was damn cold, I didn't have a jacket and we did not get to have dinner until ten and it was awesome. It lights up! Sparkly! And you can totally stick your head out of the grating.
Also the Louvre was great, although I am disappointed that the tags on all the pieces are only in French. I mean, it's a huge cultural center of Europe (the world?) and I really would have appreciated being able to have those little tidbits of information. Nonetheless, some of it was decypherable, based on all the Romance languages being actually the same thing. Anyway, I got to wander it alone for a few hours (with the map written in Italian!) and ended the trip with the Mona Lisa (La Gioconda). Seeing that painting, and seeing that crowd... it just felt good. I smiled a little smile a lot. Che gioca giochi, Gioconda?

Mensa society

Thursday, February 8, 2007

I have been in Italy for a month. One month. Thirty-one days. Shit… I only have five more of these.

University classes begin on Monday. I need to figure out what exactly I want to take, which might be a little bit confusing. For the Italian major, I’m supposed to take a literature class, of which there is currently only one, which conflicts with the Etnomusicologia course that looked like it could be awfully interesting. There are two theatre courses that I might be able to take: Drammaturgia, and Comunicazione teatrale. The former conflicts with Storia della lingua italiana, which I’ve heard great things about.

Interruption of thoughts

Tuesday, February 13, 2007

Back again on my computer. This time in the mensa – it’s basically a cafeteria for university students. I’m eating what appeared to possibly be but isn’t baked beans, and a plate of penne. Yesterday I went to General linguistics, and then Glottologia. General linguistics is an intro course with maybe fifty or so students in it. It was interesting, although I feel like I might already know a lot of the things that the course covers, the professor was great, and overall looks like a do-able class. Glottologia, on the other hand, was terrifying. There were four Italian girls and me and a slightly scary old professoressa. I didn’t always understand her, and I don’t think I totally understand what the course was all about. I also feel that it probably would be a big help to have a more solid relationship with Italian and Ferrarese, the local dialect, because it seems like they are what the material will be related to in class. So, I’m not taking that class.

Today, I went to Dramaturgy, which was also kinda scary. There were eight students in this class (me, six Italian girls, and a German girl) and it lasted three hours. Also, we were supposed to have seen a show that was performed last week. I hadn’t seen it since I had thought that it was this week. The professoressa spoke very quietly and had a cold, so I frequently couldn’t understand her, either because of what she was saying or how she was saying it. I might take this course.

After lunch, I’ll go to Filologia, which is required for the major, and seems to be a field I could be very interested in. It’s like historical linguistics, I think: looking at the development of a text through its various editions, publications, etc. Then that should be it for today. I’ve still got History of the Italian Language, and Theatrical Communication to look at tomorrow.

I’m starting to think that the Italian system isn’t as disorganized as they tell us it is. The Italian students certainly understand what’s going on and manage to stay well-informed. I will be blaming most to all of my confusion on the director of our program, Rosa Cuda, who seems to be actually causing most of the complications, whether in her error-filled hand-outs, her incapacity to explain things clearly or succinctly, and her unwillingness to put any effort into her job. Yeah, we don’t really like her.

You know who I do like? Italians! Especially the ones that Ellen is friends with. For the month of January, she lived with some Italians, one of whom is Manuel, who has stayed in contact with her after she moved to the apartment she’ll be staying in for the rest of the time. He, Luca and Marcello came to our apartment the other night with Ellen, Jen and Taber, and we had fun playing slightly violent card games. Spoons, anyone? Except we didn’t have enough clean spoons, so we used plastic forks and knives. So much bad idea. The Americans began to gorge ourselves on gelato and Nutella, but the Italians were kinda hesitant to join in, so we calmed ourselves a bit until they left. Then we brought out the sweets again and had at it. Adam bought a 3 kilogram jar of Nutella Friday, February 2. As of Sunday, it is empty. We’re beasts. Okay, yes, we’ve had large groups of company three times, but still. 3 kilos in nine days? My dentist would not be proud.

Anywho, Adam, Ellen and I also went with Manuel and another friend of his (whose name could be something like Gianpiero… or something… I didn’t really catch it, and couldn’t find an opportune moment to ask Manuel) to go ice skating! Wow, it’s been a long freaking time since I’ve done that. But it ended up being fun, and I only fell once, though I regrettably did not take the bambino who caused the accident down with me. I hope that I get to see more of those Italians, because they seem really nice, and might also actually like me! Score! I also might be able to befriend some of the girls in the Dramaturgy class, since they kept on looking at me. Kindly. Not in the ^wtf?^ way. We’ll see.

I think that’s it for major interesting updates. Classes do have me kinda flustered, but I’m sure I’ll be able to settle down into a schedule. I also need to see more of them, since I’ve only seen three so far, and was only really comfortable in the first. Hopefully some of the others will be different.

I’ll be going to Paris on Thursday, so hopefully I can talk about that in the next post!

Peace,

I've got to admit, it's getting better

Hi again, faithful readers!
So, I'm clearly in a much better mood than I was last time. I'm settling in more and things are less scary, which is always a good thing. Adam and I are on the verge of having a place to live - after searching for a very long two weeks, we finally found someone who says she'll give us an apartment. It's not exactly central, but it's certainly not too far away from everything. It's very beautiful, and fully equipped. All we need to do, basically, is buy linens and it's completely liveable. The reason that we're not there right now is that there is no electricity at the moment. The landlady has called someone who's responsible for that, and this someone will turn on the electricity by next Wednesday. And then we can sign the contract and move in! I don't want to jinx it though, since there's something in the back of my mind that's nagging me, telling me that there are no guarantees until there's a signed contract, so I'm still kinda holding my breath. We'll see.
Adam and I did a bit more traveling yesterday - he had an appointment with an instrument-maker in Padua early in the morning (he reaaaally wants a cello... I hope he finds one soon, because that would make a very, very happy Feb), so I took a later train and met up with him in the early afternoon. Yeah, we did get a little bit lost trying to find each other, but it was fine. We say two big churches, which were pretty, and in one of the churches were the relics of St. Anthony, which were gross (I saw St. Anthony's tongue. And jaw. Enclosed in separate golden chalices. WTF?). After that, we didn't really know what to do/see in Padua (although apparently we missed some AMAZING art in another church... we'll have to go back again), and so Adam said, "hey, we're really close to Venice. Wanna go have dinner there?" So, we got on a train to Venice, arrived during a very murky sunset, and wandered through the streets of Venice, getting pretty damn lost along the way. We were clearly not along the touristy path. Eventually we found a restaurant (can we note how I needed to look up the spelling of that word? I had forgotten how to spell it in English. Whee! Go Italian!) and had a nice little meal. Adam’s dad gave him a call on his cellphone and gave us enough of a clue to finally find the main drag of Venice, which was pretty spectacular. We walked for a while, looking for a good place to get desert, and then when the road ended, we walked back, finding a little gelateria that we hadn’t seen before which had mint chocolate flavored gelato (the first I’ve seen here so far) and it was a done deal. Then we headed back to the train station, ran into Noah and Selene (a Middkid who was in Ferrara last year, and his Italian girlfriend, who’s also a friend of Anna, and sorta the landlady of the house that two of the kids on the Midd program are living in), chatted with them for a while, and then got onto the Train of Awkward Seating Arrangements, and a whop-bam-boom, two and a half hours later we were back in the hotel. I went to bed nearly instantly, had some weird dreams that woke me up at quarter of nine, and then fell asleep again until nearly eleven, when I decided it’d be best to hustle out of the hotel so I could let the scary lady clean my room. Saving the shower for later, I packed up my laptop, and walked over to the University, on the steps outside of which I am currently sitting with my back up against a closed door (because everything is closed on Sundays) writing this entry for y’all. Since I can’t give you any more up-to-date updates, I think it’s best I publish this and scoot before my battery spontaneously dies.

Rockstar.

Peace,

Hi, world

Okay, so, some people, many of whom are Colin Penley, have bugged me to update my blog. Essential facts: I have been living in a hotel since I got here and I do not yet have an apartment. Rooms are generally not available until the beginning of February, and all the places that Adam and I have been looking at are either kinda sketchy, really far away, or are no longer available when one of us calls to say we'd take it. (clarification: we're looking for seperate rooms/apartments, but are doing the research together. Which really confuses most of the people we see.) On Monday I got my suitcase and yesterday I got my backpack. Italian airports are not very helpful. Long story, maybe to be told later. University classes start the middle of February, and right now the nine kids in the Ferrara program are taking a class at a language learning agency, which isn't too bad, but nothing too terribly exciting. I'm still pushing for the "come to class one day dressed as pirates" idea, but we'll see. When I get a chance to gather my thoughts, I will try to do so in the hotel, so that y'all get a nice, coherent, composed post that I can write at my leisure without having to think about how much it's costing me to use the computer at this internet point.
So basically, I'm well, a little bit confused, and miss you all, but it's all good.
Peace and Love

Evening Red and Morning Gray Sends the Traveler on his Way

I'm really doing this, it seems. I'm leaving for Italy tomorrow. I'll be flying from Boston to Newark, then Newark to Milan, and then Milan to Bologna. I'll take a train from Bologna to Ferrara, find a hotel, check in and sleep the rest of the day. Well, that is if everything goes according to plan. But we'll have to wait and see.
The past week has been interesting, and on the whole pleasant. I saw a chicken cross the road one morning. It really had no reason as far as I could tell, since staying on its own side of the road really would have been the much safer option, but fortunately my dad is a good driver, and doesn't want our neighbor getting angry if she were to lose a chicken. (Any of you who have seen my neighborhood, you are correct: it is no place for chickens. Or cows. But, Shirley seems to think otherwise. I digress.) I got to see some friends, spent New Year's at Shannon's house, and sat in on part of a rehearsal at my high school's fantastic new black box theatre. I just finished the last dinner that I will share with my family for quite some time. It was an excellent dinner, with delightful conversation - everyone was in a good mood, if a bit tired, for my brother moved into his new apartment today and so he, his girlfriend and my dad spent the day moving furniture. I won't be able to see it until I return from Europe, but I am told that it is in a lovely Jewish neighborhood, so I am sure he will be just fine. As soon as he buys some plates, glasses, pots and pans and learns how to cook.
As for me, I think I will be just fine, too. I was freaking out for a while, since it's all so big and unknown, but I finally realized (thanks to a phone call with Laura between the hours of 1:30 and 3:00am this morning) that this big and scary thing is made up of small and manageable components. I don't need to do everything all at once. Italy as a country is rather chill, I hear. No one seems to be in too much of a rush. I have everything I need and everything is backed up. My bags are packed, except for my computer and my toothbrush, and tomorrow afternoon my parents will drive me to Logan Airport and I will fly away.
It's good. It really is.
(I watched some home videos of my great-grandmother's nintieth birthday party. She told story after story of her life - her childhood, her family, and the trip from Italy to the United States when she was a newlywed girl of fourteen. I'm going back, Nonnie. Thank you for the stories, and the history, the good lies and the memories, and all the reasons for my return.)