gracious ann

Tidbit No. 1

2009-02-22T13:14:00.000-08:00

I just love traveling. I mean, the actual act of traveling. The back and forth part. The airports and train stations and their counterparts: planes and trains. Buying tickets and searching for your flight or train on the information screens, too. I guess it’s also about knowing what I’m doing. I like that I know how to do all of that stuff. I could help someone. I can do it without help from others.

I also love the arrival part. The part in which you find what you’re looking for. That feels really good. And when what you find welcomes you home each and every day; when what you find says ‘Thank You for being here;’ when what you find offers you a home, even if for only a short time, you say ‘Okay. Yeah. That would be nice,’ as you walk into the light.

So, if I were an actor invited to James Lipton’s Actors Studio and he asked me what I would like to hear God say if there is a heaven and I get to go there, that’s what I would want to hear when I arrive at the Pearly Gates: “Thank You for being here.”

My reply? “No, Thank You.”

The Humble Abode

2009-02-16T05:31:00.000-08:00

My humble abode. It’s beautiful. There’s barely anything humble about it, in my own humble opinion, that is. Eline calls this my “penthouse.”

Here are some pics:

I live with Angelo, as noted in a previous post. Angelo seriously does it all. Here is the most updated (and ever growing) list of activities/work:

~Apartment Proprietor
~Jam/Confections Factory Owner/Manager
~Product testing Agency (Making sure that Olive oil and other products are legal for vending)
~Emergency Mountain Rescue Volunteer (he’s the guy they float down from a line attached to the helicopter that leads into some deep, dark, crevice)
~Map Maker
~Night Class Teacher (Courses in Map Making, Mountaineering, etc.)
~Mountain Skiing/Climbing Instructor & Fanatic
~President of the Perugia Mountain Activities Club (700+members)
~Farmer (grows most of the fruits & vegetables for making the jams and such)
~Helicopter Builder/Pilot
~Footpath/Hiking Trail Maker

And these are things that he does on a daily/ weekly basis. I am amazed and in awe that he still has time to eat, go for a run in the middle of the day, and on the weekends go ice climbing/hiking/camping with his own friends. He rarely stops. Some days, I sense a serious meltdown coming our way.

I, on the other hand, take care of the cats. They are a real riot. I also help with the apartment that he rents to 7 or 8 female students just below ours. The occupants move on a monthly/quarterly/yearly basis, so there’s often cleaning or purging to be done in one room or another.

Angelo is the perfect roommate. He’s funny, enjoys a good conversation, is home just often enough, doesn’t ask too many questions, and he cooks. What more could an American girl want?

Another thing: He’s always up for a good dinner party. I love this! I am always a little overwhelmed by this, but the outcome is a belly full of superb food, and a head floating in a warm sea of delicious wine. Sometimes we have just one guest, whereas, other nights we may have a full house of 10-15 guests plus ourselves. And this is never planned in advance. He may not invite anyone over before 6 pm for an 8pm dinner the very same night. And by 8pm, without fail, appetizers are making the rounds, wine is being poured, and the first of three courses is heading to the table. I put Bobby McFerrin on to set the mood. I seriously love this.

In other news, I make dinner sometimes. This is a delicious broccoli pesto & spinach pasta dish that I made the other night!

La Sagra della Cipolle

2008-09-27T03:13:00.000-07:00

That’s right, I said The Festival of the Onion. Aoi’s boyfriend, Michele, is the owner and head chef of a fantastic restaurant in Perugia. It’s sad that I only know of it, called Alter Ego, now instead of the previous six months I was here; he would have made a killing off of me!

Well, Michele is always looking for a twist on a familiar recipe or even a new dish to serve his customers, hence our little adventure to this festival a mere town or two away (kilometers continue to baffle me). We parked and walked about ¾ of a mile (1.2 km) to the center of this town and joined the crowd in wandering the streets, hanging a left or a right, following the scent of these onions.

I’ll stop here to tell you that I was hesitant about these onions. Everyone had assured me that these were special onions, really particular to Italy and grown with care and love and I came to understand that I should consider myself lucky to be allowed to participate in such an event. Well, still, we were heading to a dinner where we would be ordering 3 different plates a piece, and each plate was showcasing this onion and I was not looking forward to the head and stomach pain that were sure to follow. Of course, I didn’t say anything about that.

In the town there were stands of all different types of vendors: Artists of every variety, trinket tables, antique booths, clothing, balloons, and, lest we forget the cheeses, sausages and this celebrated onion! After struggling our way through a couple of bustling piazzas, we rounded a corner and headed into a square designated for a restaurant being showcased during the festival. La Cipolleria (The Onionery) or something like that. We ate whole grilled onions, onion pate, onion soup, codfish sautéed with onion, spaghetti with diced onion and olive oil, and even dessert pastries and cookies, made with a sweet onion, that were quite tasty indeed!

Walking was a bit tricky after all of that food and wine (did I fail to mention the wine?), but we did make it back to our cars and back to Perugia before 1am. When Aoi and I asked Michele when the next sagra was happening, he informed us that this was the last one of the season. I gave him that “awww, shucks!” look on my face as my stomach settled with a gurgle of relief.

2008-09-13T12:12:00.000-07:00

I’m doing what? My brow is furrowed and my eyes are wide. I’m in Perugia. I walked into this apartment and was swept into dinner with Angelo and his friends. There was fine pasta, pineapple, beer, even conversation regarding art and its subjectivity. What a fine welcome back to Italy! I have missed it.

I took three planes, a train, a bus, and made a tiny hike with my luggage. Pietro, a rock-climbing pal of Angelo’s, met me to carry a bag upstairs. I walked into Angelo’s sanctuary and wanted to bend over in relief. What a dream.

He, Angelo, is a conscientious adult in the habit of separating all of his garbage: organics, papers, plastics and metals. He made me dinner in his bathrobe. He has a microwave! It’s a beautiful kitchen--one made to envy. He fetches his herbs from the pots lining the stairwell. He studied agriculture at university and he loves nothing more than to spend hours riding in his tractor (sound familiar?).

There are cherry wood floors throughout the top floor apartment. The sun beams in through the windows each day, and along with it, on occasion, a welcome breeze. The patio, just behind our bedrooms, holds a stone and iron table seating 8 and overhead are grape vines and a Japanese apple tree bearing fruit. I’m dazzled.

Aoi (ooowww-eee, remember?) tells me that Angelo only began preparing my room last week, as in, the room was empty and now there’s a bed and side table, writing desk, and completely finished bathroom with sink, toilet, and shower. He promises me a mirror every tomorrow, but for the time being I am content to use his.

There are two cats (gatto): Prepri, 18 years of age with fluffy grey fur that floats around the apartment throughout the day. He’s hard of hearing, has a bad back, and is seriously lacking teeth. That is to say that he has none! Oh, but he’s so sweet. The other, Margherita, is some breed of cat from Africa. She’s lean and hyperactive with an equilibrium issue. She had surgery to remove part of her inner ear this week, but Angelo didn’t seem to think it was going to go so well. I hope, for his sake, that it did. He sincerely loves his cats.

Ummm, well, I'm fresh out of inspiration for writing at the moment. So I hope this is enough for you to chew on until the rainy cold weather clears up out here and I can post some pictures of this place for you to see...Italian internet would be fussy, don't you know.

Ciao, ciao and ciao, for now.

A dopo (Later!)

2008-03-26T08:35:00.001-07:00

Leaving is hard.

The coming reality of heading home is the warmest feeling I have ever experienced.

Honestly, without shame, I just want to hug my mom. It is my personal opinion that people from other countries don’t engage in enough friendly touch each day. In e-mails and text messages, Italians write things like: “Ti abbraccio,” or “ Un abbraccio,” which translates into, “I embrace you,” or “A hug,” but the written word has proven to be a lame substitute for the real thing. So, now, after six months living outside of America’s warm embrace, I am seriously lacking in the nourishment of a good, long, hug. Lucky for me, my momma’s picking me up at the airport!

So, back to “leaving is hard.”

There are people and places and activities that I am leaving. People like my friends Eline and Aoi. People like my teachers Barbara, Sara, and Giuliano. People in our community like baristas, fruit vendors, waiters and waitresses, and the acquaintances you make over six months of frequenting the same locales. Places like the park at the top of the city. Places like pizzerias and bars and friend’s houses where you shared a meal or drink with someone special. Places like the stairs and escalators that are particular to this very tall city. Activities like daily language class, afternoon tea with your best friends, going to concerts in a “Sala”, “English Language Movie Mondays,” Italian language movies, making a daily passegiata (stroll). (I never said my life here was “hard,” just “real.”)

And, then there’s coming to terms with what I have done: It’s what I said I would do. I said, more than a year and a half ago, “I want to go back to Italy and finish learning the language.” I did it. I have learned all of the grammar. I have practiced speaking. That is to say that, so long as the person sitting across from me speaks slowly and without dialect, I can hold a conversation on all sorts of topics using conjunctive phrases and the like without having to raise my left eyebrow or shrug my shoulders too often.

It has passed. I have finished it. I can’t do it again.

There’s a fear that is setting in as that last statement rings in my ears. I was talking to my brother on the phone last night and I was just babbling to his very kind and listening ear, in a way only his baby sister could. And at some point I heard myself saying, “I came here with this staggering fear, and now there’s just not any. It’s way cool,” but, I kind of lied, to tell you the truth. There is a fear.

Real Life Part 2

2008-03-14T08:45:00.000-07:00

Maybe it’s just that some days hurt more than others. Take, for instance, Mondays. Today was a Monday and in it was a classic sequence of events that gives Mondays their fame.
1. Locked self out of apartment
2. Arrived late to class
3. Cell phone rang during lecture
4. Lesson was dismal
5. Vented loudly to a friend in public
6. Desired internet sites out of service
And thoughts begin to pile on the pain. All of the things I have ever been sad or angry about, come to the surface. My eyebrows join in great furor, my upper lip begins to snarl, and everyone seems to be staring and thinking: “Geez, what’s with her?” And, if they actually asked me, I would tell them. Oh, would I ever tell them! Problem is, they never ask. They stare, they think, some joke, but they don’t dare to ask. And I am left to deal with my personal case of the Mondays alone. That’s right, now I have realized how very alone I am. Not just today, but every day. Every single day…

Are you beginning to understand how the sorrow escalates throughout the day, until even the most adrenaline pumped competitor would have to sit down, find a friend’s shoulder, and have a good cry?

Well, so that’s also very real. We may call those feelings “exaggerated,” but they are real. I call them exaggerated, because those are feelings we are led to by a chain of events that are triggered by a solitary happening. For example: Had I not left my keys in my apartment behind my automatically locking door, I would not have been so self-deprecating as to call myself stupid all morning. However, in the circumstance that I had been thoughtful enough to check for my keys before closing the door, like I do every other morning, I would have been raving to myself, in my thoughts, as I walked to class as to how silky soft my hair felt that day. In fact, all day I would have been smiling with glee over my triumphant hair day (it’s a personal fetish), rather than lamenting my sorry existence! So, just as my exaggerated lamentations are “real” enough to induce tears of great sorrow in need of an entire roll of toilet paper for clean-up duty, so was my exaggerated joy in the simple victory of correct shampoo and product combination. So, sometimes life can be "real" happy, and at other times "real" sad, and the potential for extremities can occur by way of peculiar events. Thing is, however spectacular or crummy a moment may be, it's always real.

Note: These entries are not challenges as to what wisdom has been offered me in the past, they are simply my efforts at creating something during a period of my life when I am without my “sword,” as my brother once put it, when my mother wanted to put my cello in her car, as opposed to mine, on my first move to college. We all need an emotional outlet, I’m taking a stab at articulating my thoughts in a manner that differs from stream of consciousness.

2008-03-10T08:16:00.000-07:00

What is real life? That is, when is it gonna hit me? Is this real life? This living in Italy, learning another language thing, is that the real life that mom’s, dad’s, professor’s, mentor’s and the like have been telling me about all my life? Or is their yet another link?

What separates the “real” moments from those that are “unreal?” If I were to hear about the life that I have been living for the last 5 months from another person I might conclude, in exclamation, that this very “real” experience sounds quite “unreal.” Out of this world, in fact. So, what’s the definition?

In response to my own question, I have the following thoughts:

Suggested “Real Life” Moments:
• Death
• Exam Week
• Pop Quizzes
• Faulty Alarm Clock Mornings
• Interviews
• Diagnoses
• Performances
Feel free to include and suggest other moments of sheer panic, stress, sadness, or anger to this list as you feel inclined.

Why is “real life” named the culprit of all of the tough stuff? Each of those previously mentioned moments was a moment in which I can remember my head spinning, therefore inducing a feeling quite “unreal.” Not drunken, or drugged (You are in control of what you put into your body; therefore, manipulating substances to create a desired feeling is considerably “real.”), but more like my head was growing to a size beyond capacity for the world. Literally. That’s pretty “unreal,” right?

So, here’s my latest example of the real unreal: I found myself riding in the back of Giuliano, my teacher’s, car. I was looking out of the window over the Umbrian countryside as he navigated the winding roads of the mountain necessary to scale and descend in order to meet our friends at their home. The Italian sky (literally translated into “heavens”) is clearer, bluer, and more seemingly tangible than any I have ever seen, something that I am marveled by with every coming day. The clouds are of a density that gets me surmising a plan for how I could take a seat up there, allowing me to take in the view of those going for a drive on this lazy Sunday. We were discussing educational theories. We were talking in Italian.

Aoi was giving directions from the front passenger seat: “Gira sinistra. Qui. Si, si, qui. Davanti al bar. Si, si, sono sicura.” As Giuliano parked and we tumbled out of his tiny car, I found myself standing between an olive grove to my right, a vineyard straight ahead, a panorama of the countryside below to my left, and the heavens above. Our friends appeared with smiles on their faces, taking our shoulders in their hands and kissing our cheeks, welcoming us into their home in classic Italian form. It’s only their physical and audible features that keep them from hiding their Irish-Scotch heritage.

My impressions of today continue in much the same fashion until, 7 hours later, familiar signs of my city began to appear beyond the windshield of my teacher’s car. And, even now, a few hours later, sitting on my bed, refining my thoughts to a mere few words, my conclusive feeling is one of awe. A feeling often induced by things deemed to be rather “unreal.” Yet every bit of it was as real as you and I to the touch, but not a bit of it was tough.

Places I've been

2008-03-08T07:16:00.000-08:00

So, we've been doing a little traveling as of late. The girls: Eline, Aoi (sounds like owwweee!), Tomomi, and I, that is. About a month ago we took a trip to the city of Lucca (looo-kah). It's a beautiful city surrounded by a great wall from the Medieval era. The wall served as protection for the citizens from possible attacks. The wall, today, serves as a historic monument, walking path, and park for the city. You can walk the circumference of the city outside of the wall, but you can also walk on top of the wall and take in the view of the city within and without. Really interesting.

So, below, in no particular order whatsoever, the pictures are of the wall, my friends, city map of Lucca, the duomo and bell tower, and then the walking path on top of the wall.

Enjoy!
~Grace

p.s.
Friday marked the one month until my plane departs for the U.S.A.!

I'm learning things, too.

2008-02-22T09:40:00.000-08:00

This language learning stuff is really fascinating, and hard. It’s interesting to think about how phrases are constructed. The kicker comes when you have to let go of all of your rules to put some words together that if translated into English would be so disgustingly incorrect cringing would take place. They put phrases together that place words like “more” and “better” right next to one another, and it’s completely grammatically correct. Makes me gag just thinking about it. This said, rules are important and should be followed, but sometimes you just have to let go of all that you know in order to learn more, super cool stuff.

Madeleine L’Engle put it like this:

“Something almost always happens to startle us during the act of creating, but not unless we let go our adult intellectual control and become as open as little children. This means not to set aside or discard the intellect but to understand that it is not to become a dictator, for when it does we are closed off from revelation.”

~Walking on Water

We are a world. Not just America and Mexico and those almond-eyed folks that we see going to Saturday school. I only say this because, at one time in my life, I didn’t know better. I knew there were other countries, but I never thought about who inhabited them. That people live in those places wasn’t a thought in my mind. Did you know that Holland has a queen? And as for people not being able to point out America on a map, could you find Italy? Can you name all 7 continents? (I had to check with my friend and then do some googling, and that’s an easy one.) Do you know the difference between a country and a continent? Part of which continent is Iraq? Is every place that we know of on the earth inhabitable? Even Antarctica? I don’t think it is, but I’m not sure. (And today I see they are selling tickets to Antarctica on the web for penguin watching...I guess people do live there.)

And yeah, lots of people know the English language, but not everyone. I have met so many interesting people from all over the world and have been talking with them in Italian, a second language for me, but a third or fourth for many of the others. So, our conversations are limited. I’m sure they have so much more to say. I have so much more to say (this could also be a blessing, because I’m sure sometimes I have a bit too much to say). I like to know what moves people, and now that I am approaching the end of my stay in Italy, I am just beginning to be able to ask the kinds of questions that will bring unexpected answers. These are the answers that will inevitably increase my vocabulary and allow an acquaintance to become a real friend.

These are the events of my life that are bringing me closer to that utterly unattainable, yet worthy of the chase, “wholeness” for which I strive.

Treats for the tastebuds

2008-02-09T06:35:00.000-08:00

Well, there’s pizza for starters. Unless you’ve been here, well, you just can’t know real pizza. It is absolutely decadent. Thin flimsy crusts, fresh out of the wood-fired stove (I’m talking tall flames), a thin layer of fresh tomato sauce, fresh bufala mozzarella (not that shredded stuff), a sprig of basil in the center, and, if you really need more, your choice of the widest variety of toppings that could be asked for.

One of the best pizzerias in the city is right across the street from my apartment, literally (the pic is from out of my window), and they offer pizza by the slice, by the plate (for one if you are Eline, Miyuki, or myself), or by the meter (for about 5 people). And each meter comes with a free bottle of wine! This is not the comprehensive list, but you can top your pizza with any one or combination of the following:

Mozzarella
Provolone
Gorgonzola
Ricotta
Arucola
Artichoke
Basil
Cherry tomatoes
Anchovies (those furry little fish my gramma loved, ick!)
Salami

Tuna (now my favorite!)
Peppers
Onions
Olives (black and green)
Prosciutto (thinly sliced cooked or raw ham)
Sun dried tomatoes
Sausage
Potatoes
Nuts
Eggplant
Hot Dog slices (not as bad as you might think, though I don’t order it myself)
Mushrooms
Zucchini
Egg
French fries (I’ve seen it, but I can’t bear to taste it)

And the pizza’s are, for the most part, so directly from the oven that the cheese drips from the edges of your slice like syrup from a fresh Cracker Barrel pancake…it’s a “lick your plate clean” kind of delicious (as Eline demonstrates in the photo below). (Now, after I visit Napoli, home of the world’s very first pizza, I’m sure I’ll have more details to share, but this is the general idea.)

So, with a pancake, I usually have coffee. Well, with pizza we have wine or water, but AFTER the pizza, I enjoy a good cup o’Joe. Except, in Italy it’s probably more like a cup o’Giovanni or Giuseppi or…cappuccino. So, at Starbucks you can order your coffee in tall, grande, or venti, right? Well, here you order your coffee in caffe, caffe macchiato, or cappuccino. And if you just can’t handle the espresso, don’t bother ordering Caffe Americano, just call it Acqua Sporca, ‘cuz that’s what the barista is gonna call it as he pours hot water over the espresso in your slightly larger, but still tiny little cup (aqua sporca=dirty water).

• Caffe is one shot of espresso in a teensy tiny ceramic cup.
• Caffe Macchiato is still espresso with a little milk, in a relatively larger, but still tiny little glass (the teensy clear one).
• The cappuccino, well, that’s a shot of espresso with steamed milk and then the foam on top. In a large ceramic mug (large by Italian standards, that is). If you’re lucky, sometimes the barista will smile and make a pretty little picture in your cappuccino foam. Giuseppi makes me a flower!
• And that other glass is for some delectable creation the barista of your choice may offer to make you…the art of coffee is such a splendid thing!

Believe you me, there’s more than just pizza and coffee, but for all practical and survival purposes, this is precious information. There’s pasta too, but that’s a whole ‘nother entry in itself.

So, for now I’ll say “alla prossima (until next time),” which is what the waiter at the pizzeria said as Eline and I were leaving a couple of nights ago…he knows we’ll be back.

Vi voglio bene (I love you all).

~Grace

After being sick...

2008-01-29T08:53:00.000-08:00

and stuck inside a studio apartment for an entirely beautiful and sunny weekend, I got to have class outside and eat free food and drink free wine with my classmates and professor!!! I'll tell you allllll about it later. Just needed to share some of my sunshine.

~Grace

Yes, some people still use a horse and buggy as their primary mode of transportation in Romania.

2008-01-18T05:40:00.000-08:00

Romania, Romania, Romania…where to begin? I’ll be brief. Let’s do this by bullet point:

• Food: creamy, meaty, smelly, and always tasty
• Housing: tiny, tidy, smoky, and the oven is always occupied.
• People: joyful, thoughtful, prideful, and just plain full.
• Drink: homemade, strong, deserving of suspicion, and definitely illegal in the U.S. of A.

I was never hungry in Romania. Nor was I hungry for three or four days after my return. We finished a meal and Laura began asking us what we wanted for the next. In the breaks between meals (it was like the break after running your leg of a tag-team race), she would bring out slices of fresh oranges and a plate full of bite-sized cakes that you reached for again and again not against your will, but against your better judgment.

Christmas Eve comes and we bake in the kitchen all day preparing cakes and soups and salads with fresh homemade cream and mayonnaise, and lots and lots of garlic (I’m sure I still have some in my system, even now). I asked Laura as we were leaving things to chill in the refrigerator, “How are we going to get these things to your sister’s house for dinner?” To which Laura replied, “We are NOT taking these to her house! These are for us!” Oh?

At about 8 or 8:30 pm, we headed out of the house to have Christmas Eve dinner in the home of Laura’s brother and sister-in-law, which is where the big family dinner happened, and where I almost ate my way into my very own grave.

Upon arrival, the family members present asked Leanne (girlfriend from Australia) and I to sing a traditional English Christmas carol, so we sang Silent Night and everyone applauded and smiled and kissed us and herded us to the table, which was big and full of sliced ham, turkey, salami, bread, strawberries, ripe cherry tomatoes, bottles of campari (the most wicked of all alcoholic beverages), juice, white wine and only one bottle of water (fizzy). I’m thinking, “Well, good. These are all things that I like and won’t have to explain why I haven’t chosen to eat an item or two. “ But, just as I finished my second and final serving from this course, the host swept away what was left and planted a second course on the table. This time we were having what seemed to be egg rolls drenched in an oily-spicy-tomato kind of syrup/sauce. They were delectable. And then they were even better when they brought out the homemade heavy cream that you are supposed to dollop on top. At this point, I am beyond stuffed. No one says anything when I ask if there is going to be more. Leanne and I are trying not to gasp as the host heads to the kitchen to bring in a third course: Meat. Pork chops the size of both of your hands put together. Baked chicken wings, bratwurst the size of a child’s forearm. I’m thinking I might cry if I have to eat another bite, and then Laura seizes my plate in order to plop one of each in the center. I look at her pleadingly to put one or all three back on the serving platter. She insists.

Thank goodness she did not insist that I eat one of the big tomatoes that had been naturally cooking in a basin of highly acidic vinegar all day. I was curious, but not able to hold anything more! And just so you know, as the bottles of beverage were emptied with each course, pitchers filled with family recipe wine were brought out and the men kept watch so as to refill our glasses as we got within an inch of the bottoms. I’ve never been in such pain!

Family members wandered in and out of the house through the night, singing traditional songs as gifts to Leanne and I, sharing stories with their family in their native tongue, asking Laura and Florin about their English speaking guests, touting babies and young children…Finally, at two thirty in the morning, after another round of the first course, a digestive (more wine, but even stronger), and some dessert, we headed for home. First thing out of Laura’s mouth the next morning was “What will you eat?” Dear me! I think I said something like, “Only a cup of coffee this morning, please,” to which she reacted by scooping out a portion of salad and two big hunks of bread. I promise, one will never go hungry in Romania.

The pictures I posted previously are from the mountains of the Transylvania and Moldova regions of Romania. Beautiful, huh? Words cannot describe the awe that I experienced as we drove up and down the mountains, in and out of valleys, from views of snow glistening under the intense sunlight into the darkness of a deep crevice resembling the icy kingdom of the nemesis in Narnia. Truly incredible, you’ll need to see it to believe it.

hmmm, not so brief after all:)

thoughts on travel

2008-01-18T05:23:00.000-08:00

Below are some thoughts that I am reluctant to forget and have to think again the next time I travel.

I think that 6 months is a good length of time, for myself, to insist on staying in a foreign country. I have come to several conclusions that I have heard in the past, but could only be made fact though personal experience. For starters, culture shock is real. Real enough to create an anxiety so heavy that will keep you indoors for hours or days at a time. So real, in fact, that it can happen over the span of weeks and months, coming in several stages.

My first experience with culture shock kept me locked in my single bedroom whilst my roommates were drinking wine and chomping on cheese in the kitchen just outside of my room in our Florence apartment (summer 2006). This time around, in Perugia, culture shock began with the initial sense of being overwhelmed by my incapacity to understand, hence sweeping me indoors, when my head says to turn around and do the opposite (My weary heart was the victor in the beginning of this conflict). It’s not just that every person speaks Italian, of which I only speak a bit, it’s that the ears hear languages that are as foreign as a rooster’s crow to someone who’s never lived outside of Manhattan: Arabic, Spanish, Russian, Dutch, French, German, Portuguese, Latvian, Czechoslovakian, Korean, Mongolian, Japanese, Chinese. And that list doesn’t include dialects found just right here in Italy, each region has it’s own nuances, insisting that I will never be like them, remaining forever a foreigner. Inside my head, that voice tells me that I am the only one who has ever felt this way and, well, if it were me (which it inevitably is), it would just catch the fastest plane back home to where everyone talks just like me and looks strangely at the Mexican restaurant proprietor when they say a simple “gracias.” Now I’m the fish treading foreign waters, trying to spit out “grazie” instead of “hey, thanks” when I’ve paid for my carefully executed frothy cappuccino. And yes, Italians stare too. Their eyes seem to say, “It’s not that hard, I don’t quite understand why you can’t just say it. I mean, I’ve said it everyday since I could speak. If it’s that hard for you, maybe you should just give up and try French or something.”

So, you buy an espresso pot and head indoors.

After devouring a couple of bananas (healthy), covering every single bite in nutella (I’m not sure that eating a stick of butter could be worse for you), you begin calling in the troops: Friends and family that miss you and tell you so in e-mail after e-mail after snail mail card after quick instant message, relentless in their efforts. You have called because you are lonely and you feel like no one in the whole world knows who you really are, so you need to make sure those who know you best haven’t forgotten about you and your importance in their life. You need to feel that you still have a place in this big scary world.

And also, maybe there is something happening on the other side of the world, something that requires your presence, in which case you may have to book an urgent flight home. (All of this has been circulating in your mind as you pressed the speed dial button no. 5 to get the low down from Mom on how everybody is doing.) Oh, it’s ringing!

So, there you are, spilling your guts to Mom (at the cost of 19 cents/min) and saying how scared and sad and completely incapable you feel and you think that after a month you will just come home. And, you expect her to say, “Well, honey, that’s okay, you know. If you want to come home, we want to have you hear, we really do miss you.” And she does say it. But then she says something else: “You are incredibly brave, baby girl. We miss you, but we want you to see this through. And besides, I’ll be there in December.” Well, nothing important is happening at home, so let’s call one of the girls. Your best friend says something like, “Yeah, things are good. I had this great new soup for lunch today, really good. Miss you lots.” Except this time, the "miss you" doesn’t have the same ring to it, because well, in the states, you live hours apart and you’ve said “Miss you lots,” everyday since you graduated high school. (Not to say that we don’t mean it, we really, really do.) After she/he regales you with the recipe for that soup she just ate, you hear this: “You know what? I really admire you for doing what you’re doing.” More support. Geez, how’s a girl supposed to feel sorry for herself when she’s got all of these feel-good people surrounding her? C’mon guys, I wanna come HOME.

So you call your siblings, other friends, send e-mails to friends from college just joining the workforce and all you get is more support. Not one snide remark from the whole crowd! They want to see you finish this thing out. Succeed. And, basically, all you get on the news front is that they are eating a lot of good soup. So, “culture shock” be damned! It looks like you’re gonna be just fine after all.

The landscape

2008-01-12T06:04:00.001-08:00

Here are the pics from my adventure. Enjoy!

In this one, I was just in awe of the weight the branches of this evergreen could withstand!

The Christmas tree (aka "brad," pronounced like "broad.")

This is a picture of all of the people I was with during the holiday: Tony and Geta (good friends), Florin and Laura (the couple I stayed with), and the boy is Razvan (9 year old son of Florin and Laura), and then Andrea (12 year old daughter of Tony and Geta who are expecting a new baby this year!). Honestly, these are some of the happiest people I have ever met. They are always finding something to laugh about or something pleasant to think about. It was an incredibly happy week.

And this, well, this is Romania in the winter time.

There's always another story with which I could regale you, but for the time being, I hope you are able to enjoy the pictures and possibly begin to conjure up the nerve (or the money) to make a trip like this yourself someday.

~Grace
p.s. I'm sorry about the images being sideways, I can't figure out quite how to rotate them once I post them...

Traveling to and fro.

2008-01-06T08:12:00.000-08:00

So, let's start with the beginning, end with the end, and then next time I'll tell you about alllll that happened in between, promise.

So, I started my journey early on a Friday morning, around 5:30 am to be a bit more precise. I took a bus to the train station, caught the train to Rome where I caught another train to another bus that took me to the airport, where I was several hours early for my flight. Better to be extra early than just a little too late, right? Right, unless your flight is delayed 4 and a half hours, which it was. Well, so, after lots of waiting in the land beyond passport control, which is considered to be no land at all, we hopped a small bus to the plane and landed in Bucharest, Romania around midnight. The delay would not have been such a drag, except that upon my arrival I had to meet my friend and then begin the, supposed, five hour drive north to their city of Falticeni (Fall-te-chain). Florin and his son Razvan picked me up in the airport and looked a little distraught as we embarked on the last leg of our journey (our days had been of equal length and travel to this point). The night was dark and foggy, and the roads...the word "rough" just isn't a fair description of their condition.

After grabbing a burger (yes I caved and ate McDonald's) and some "light" conversation, Florin told me that it was okay to sleep, so I nodded off. Well, so, five hours was around 5 am, and we were definitely not home. In fact, at around 5 am, I perked up and realized we were not moving. I look out the window and can see only darkness in all directions, then I look for Florin. He was asleep. So there we were, in the middle of nowhere (we were "somewhere," but nowhere that I new of), stopped on the side of the road, Romania. So, feeling safe (?), I nod back off to sleep, hoping that whatever was to happen, good or bad, would just happen while I was asleep. Around 8 am we arrived in Falticeni, watching the sunrise over the crystal white Romanian landscape. It was a beautiful sight, in so many ways.

Then we had Christmas. (Remember, I promised to write about the in between part in the next post)

Traveling back to Italy was a solo adventure. I packed myself into the back of a bus on the following Friday night at 10 pm, slept for most of the 7 hours it took to get to Bucharest, caught a taxi to the teensy tiny airport, and sat for hours. Then I stood up for a few hours. Then, when I was informed that my flight was delayed, I stood up for a couple more hours.

We boarded the plane, made it to Italy, and then I waited for a bus that never came to take me to the train station, at which point I caught a pricey taxi just so I didn't miss the last train out of Roma that would get me to Perugia that night. I caught the train with moments to spare, caught the bus connection in Foligno, caught my last bus from the Perugia train station to my street, and by 1am, I had collapsed in my bed after a 27 hour journey home (there was an hour time difference).

A question that came to mind when I was lamenting my sore arms, back, legs and aching head was this: "Was it worth it?" Well, I'll let you judge for yourself after you've seen the pictures...next time, because the weather is bad in Italy and none of the computers are working well enough to post pictures! Sorry! Don't hate me!

Love you all!
~Grace

Musica e Luce

2007-12-09T05:42:00.000-08:00

Music and Light.

They have made such a difference in the disposition of this town. The Christmas season has officially started in Italy as of Friday. The lights in all of the towns are lit and, in Perugia, there is a sound system blasting Christmas music on every corner of the city center. Spirits are lifted and my favorite coffee bar (where my friends and I most often order tea with milk) is packed with patrons ordering hot chocolate you have to consume by the spoonful (they are way beyond Swiss Miss over here). There's even a ferris wheel!

My friend, Eline, and I went to Firenze (Florence) to do a little shopping and have a change of pace for the weekend. This was the first time I have been to Firenze since I arrived in Italy this year, and when we arrived, it was like I was in Louisville, or Nashville again...I just knew where to go and what to do, nothing seemed very foreign this time. (That's a good feeling to have in a foreign country.) So, after checking in to our hotel, Eline and I commenced to the shopping portion of our adventure.

Going to Firenze is kind of like going to the nearest big city. They just have things there that you can't find anywhere else. All of the best shops with the widest variety of things to shop for. Kind of like a "one-stop-shop", except it's the whole city, and there are buses you should watch out for. There are even those annoying "kiosk kids." You know the ones. The very moment they make eye-contact, the sales pitch begins and you have to just walk away or they will guilt you into listening to their entire pitch (for an incredibly oversized courduroy pillow that you would have to haul off in a box truck) at the end of which you will have to look at their "puppy dog" eyes and say, "No, thank you. Not today," when you know you really want to roll your eyes and say, "No, I would never buy that piece of junk, not even if you paid me!" Well, in the streets of Firenze, these guys get a little agressive when you don't listen.

First, when you think you have ignored them to the point of success, they might call out to you like this: "Sei italiana? (Are you Italian?)" And you know, they are talking to you, but you aren't italian, so you walk on. Then they might tap you with the paper they would like to tell you ALL about (that was my experience). Well, you still walk on, because you still have not made eye-contact, you are not italian, and now you wouldn't buy whatever it was he was selling you anyway, because he is rude! Then come's the kicker. You are still walking when this guy, who wanted you to buy something from him, says, rather loudly: "F#$! you, puta (which isn't a nice thing to be called)," accompanied by a nasty hand gesture. I continued walking, but Eline, she turned around, and in classic Italian form, gave him a stone cold glare and less rude (but still meaningful) hand gesture particular to Italians. I wish I could have seen his face.

Well, so, we managed to buy some things and eat VERY well (Mexican food has never tasted so good). I think we even bought some Christmas presents for our friends and family far away...

Now we're back in Perugia and it's a typical quiet Sunday, kind of rainy, but we're resting up for our LAST week of classes! I hope you're having a great Sunday as well!!

Ciao for now!

Chinese, Champagne, and CHEESE!

2007-12-02T06:06:00.000-08:00

So, the other night, one of these relentlessly rude and simultaneously kind Chinese kids has his birthday party and he invites the whole class. So, of course I went. (I was never really a starving college student in America, but when someone in Italy says they are going to make dinner and you should bring absolutely nothing, you purchase a bottle of champagne, hand it over to the host and chow down!)

Now, at this party are all of these people that we have had to "talk" with in class. We say the obligatory "Ciao, come stai (Hi, how are you)?" as we enter the classroom each day, smile and nod as they respond with "Bene, bene (good)." However, these people are not really our friends. What can I say, free food was calling my name, I couldn't not go.

So, we arrive, kiss-kiss (a typical greeting), and commence to the dining portion of the evening. It was typical chinese cuisine: fried wontons, orange and lemon chicken, fried spring rolls, and lots of Heineken for the Dutch Beer-lovers in the room.

Because none of the people in the room are actually what one would call "good friends," once our mouths were free to use for talking, we couldn't actually think of anything to talk about...This was noticed by all of the people in the room, rather soon after eating, so the champagne was uncorked, another toast was made and the taking of pictures began!

I mean, I've never been in so many pictures in my life. And, these Chinese kids just had to be in a picture, five or six times, with each person in the room. It all happened so suddenly...we were best friends, they were sitting on our laps, pressing their faces next to ours, flashing peace signs above their anime style hair do's. I think the picture taking lasted about 45 minutes, during which we ate cake and drank tiny glasses of champagne and sang happy birthday in three languages. Then, just as suddenly as it began, it was all over. We congratulated, made the kiss-kiss, ciao-ciao, and made our way to the bus.

As Eline and I arrived at our homes, we looked at each other and said "You know, that Chinese girl with the glasses. She took all those pictures with us, right? What is her NAME?" What a party.

Baci (Kisses)

Finding Faith in Italy

2007-11-30T05:36:00.000-08:00

Remember that Lite Rock smash hit sung by Faith Hill? You know the one; it goes something like: "It's the way you love me. It's a feeling like thi-is. It's centrifugal motion. It's blah-blah-dee-blah bli-iss." Well, so, I'm sitting somewhere the other day and I begin to hum the tune. Then my brain says to me, "Grace, you're in Italy." And I go, "Si, lo so (yeah, I know)." Ahhhhh, then it hits me: I'm humming an American country music song, in an Italian establishment. But, wait, I can't really sing along...Why not, you might be asking? Because they are singing this, now classic, Faith Hill song with Italian lyrics! Talk about strangely familiar:)

The people I have met...

2007-11-18T05:11:00.000-08:00

Well, so, there's lots of people that I have met, and they are from all different walks of life.

I'll introduce you to a few of my favorite, via my personal descriptions a la blogger...

Eline: 21, spending six months in Perugia to study the language. In Holland, her home country, she has completed the equivalent of a bachelors in Pre-Law, and, upon her return in March, will complete an internship and embark on her last year of university to complete law-school. Her family has vacationed in Italy for years, and she just wants to learn the language. Lots of kids from Holland take some time off to study in another country. She can hear Italian better than some actual Italians. She wants to taste deep fried Turkey.

Miyuki: 35, spending 3 months in Perugia to study the language. Over the last 6 years Miyuki has lived in the UK and Spain, perfecting her English, becoming fluent in Spanish, holding various positions that have very little to do with her degree in Art History. She just loves to travel and learn languages. In Japan, her home country, she did clerical work in an office. From her description, you can surmise that it was just a job that paid her way to travel the world at this stage in her life. In January she will return to Japan, find work, and start back to life that seems to be just a little less interesting than her last few years. Every word she speaks in Italian sounds like a question?

Giulia: 24, spending 7 months or more in Perugia to study the language. She is originally from Latvia and does not want to return there, other than to visit family. She can speak Latvian, Russian, English, French, and, now, Italian. She wants to find work in Italy and live her for...ever, maybe. A job that would pay a certain salary in Latvia, can reap a much greater pay level in practically any other country in the world. Most of their friends have moved to the UK to seek a better life. The cost of living may be higher in other countries, but apparently the change in male to female ratio is worth the few hundred extra Euros. Also, she would love to come to America, but America will not permit these perfectly intelligent and hardworking women a work visa. Hell, America won't even offer them a travel visa allowing them to travel in our country for more than 30 days. She wants to study "things" for the rest of her life. Me too.

Roberto: 28, spending 6 months in Perugia to study the language before opening a 'boutique' in Milan. Now, what this boutique sells, he hasn't been able to clarify. Also, let's see...He is originally from Australia, born of an Italian mother and father. He works in advertising and television and film and he cooks. The cooking, I believe in it, because I've seen it, the other stuff, well, maybe he'll send me his keys to his Manhattan apartment for a weekend and then I'll believe in the rest. He speaks Italian quickly and with great mistakes, but he does get his point across.

I'll introduce you to more of the people from around here at a later date.

Yesterday, I went to Assisi with some girl friends and we went to St. Francis's church (Chiesa di San Francesco). It was beautiful. You should have seen the angels painted on the ceilings! I left my camera at home, so I don't have pics of the city, but it was blisteringly cold yesterday, so we sat in a caffe and drank tea and ate beautiful pastries most of the afternoon. And, I couldn't take pictures in the church. If you're lucky, you'll get a postcard!

I love you all! Happy Thanksgiving!!!

Love,
Grace

I must confess...

2007-11-10T04:22:00.000-08:00

...this blogging thing can become quite the burden when one thinks about all of the items they would like to include in their next post. So in preparation for todays post, I have been to my friend, who happens to have been an esthetician in a former life, for a pedicure and eyebrow shaping. The only problem is that, well, now I feel like a completely new woman. So, well, if I'm a completely new woman, then how can I tell you stories about my former life...I'll do my best for you all.

Well, so, lately I have been going to class, every day, like a good little student. But, now I need to start being an even better little student and commence to reviewing my notes after class, 'cause this stuff is hard! In english, we say we did stuff a long, long time ago to indicate that we did something in the past. Well, in other languages (like Italian), they amputate their verbs and attach a whole new limb so that the word you began with looks like something completely new by the time it has recovered from the operation. It's exhausting just to think about.

Let's see, what have I done...

Well, we have had a un grande fiera qui. Their was a huge fair for the All Saints weekend. At this fair (more like a huge flea market) you could purchase anything from kitchen accessories to sausage to the most beautiful scarves and candy you have ever laid eyes on. See the pictures?

Okay, so, well, after visiting that fair in Perugia last Friday, on Saturday, my girlfriends and I visited Citta di Castello for their Mostra di Tartufo (aka...Truffles exhibit). At this "exhibition," you can purchase all kinds of wonderful things, even these truffles, for exhorbitant prices. There was homemade honey and grappa and the most fragrant cheeses and sausages, limoncello, more candy, more pastries from Sicilia, freshhhhhhhh bread, and these truffles. I don't care for truffles.

Truffles are found by digging in the ground, like, when you go searching for mushrooms. Except these just look like, well, you let me know. They are considered a delicacy here, but the smell is enough to make me gag, so I won't be ordering pasta di tartufo anytime soon. You'll know the truffles when you have the urge to say, "Now what's that a picture of?"

So, all in all, we try to hit up festivals as often as we can, just because it's fun to have super fresh food. I need to get a few recipes that only require one to have stove top burners, I realize I used to bake a lot, and you can't do that without an oven...
Will and Nancy, did you see those peppers? And the olives? I don't even like olives, but geez, they were beautiful!

So, let's see, after the truffles, the girls and I went to the top of this mountain in Umbertide (Ooom-beeaarrrr-tea-duh) to visit our Dutch friend, Marga (Mar-k-ha) who cares for the gardens and keeps track of these three cottages for the American owners. Geez, I LOVE this place. So well, there are pics, and they are below. The Japanese girl is Miyuki (mee-you-kee), and then Marga is blonde, and Eline is the tall, skinny girl with the movie star sunglasses. I love these ladies!

Well, so, I've done other things, but geez, I've been in this cafe for a long time, so you'll have to wait a week or so for more pics.

I've had questions from several of you about my day to day living, and, well, it's not much different from being a student in America, except that I have to speak Italian and sometimes I have to prepare what I'm going to say to a store clerk before I actually go to the store. I have to buy food, or order food in a restaurant. If I go shopping for a new pair of boots, which I am scouring all of the stores for, I need to be able to tell them my Italian/ European size (about a 38). Then I need to be able to ask them if they have a pair with more support for my poor ankles trying to cope with these cobblestone streets. Communication is tough somedays, and there is always a new learning experience around the corner, so my brain doesn't get a lot of time to rest.

I'm also doing a lot of reading. So far I have finished Madeleine L'Engle's The Other Side of the Sun, and the book Eat, Pray, Love (really great). I am currently reading the original Dracula by Brahm Stoker to prepare for my Christmas in Romania, but I only read that during the day, because it's a bit too spooky to read at night, just before drifting off into dreamland...

Well, for those of you that have heard, and the rest of you that haven't, there was a murder of one of the students attending my university. She was killed a little over a week ago. I don't know exactly why she was killed, but it most definitely had something to do with her refusal to have an sex with some of her friends who had been using some hard drugs. She lived pretty close to where I live, but with roommates. One of her roommates, an American girl, confessed to having taken part in the cover up and they have three people in custody. My friend Eline knew the girl that was killed and one of the main suspects.

The thing that you don't learn about this city from the school is that it has a great deal of drugs swimming around. And I'm not talking marijuana, they use needles and snuff cocaine here. It's pretty intense, but I still have Arturo around most days, and I have good friends that would be looking for me if I hadn't been around for a few days. I've never felt unsafe, but it's a bit hectic with all of the news reporters looking for an interview (they are relentless). So, if you want to keep up with the news, you can go to msnbc.com and check out the frontpage of the Europe news, just search for "Italy" or "Perugia" or "Sex Murder" and you will find the latest. I'm just hoping it will calm down around here, soon.

So, as for me, I'm enjoying my time here. Drinking coffee everyday and adding to my collection of scarves each week.

Vi amo (I love you all)

Call me sometime:)

Ciao,
Grace

I finally ate some gelato.

2007-10-27T07:13:00.000-07:00

And it was tasty. And the weather is so great, that I might just go back and have more, later. What do you think of that?

Ready for pics of my apartment?

So that one is when you walk straight in the door. I've got to get some stuff for the walls, but that is my bed/fold-out loveseat...It's comfortable...

And these to pics are of my "kitchen" and from the direction of my bathroom. Look, there's my bed again!

So, that's my place, it's nothing grand, but it's all mine for the next six months or so, and I have faith that my padrone (landlord) will get me internet, soon!

I've pretty well settled into the city of Perugia. I know where lots of things are, and opening my eyes a little bit more everyday to find new things. I'm also reading plenty, and settling into the lifestyle...that one where they practice the art of doing absolutely nothing for hours at a time. I'm getting really good at that one.

And, I've pretty much decided it's over with Arturo. We still see eachother every once and a while, but he's got some other agenda/ life, that he doesn't like to be questioned about...he also doesn't like it when my friends tell me where they've seen him in the wee hours after we've parted for the night..."All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well," I'll look up who said that and clue you in, next time.

I have been eating some great food, lots of cheese, and plenty of pasta in order to maintain the shape of my hips and thighs. For pranzo (lunch), however, I had some chinese food, and later this week, some of my girl friends and I are going for mexican at a new restaurant we found...Can't wait for something with a little heat to it.

Oohhh, this week, I went to the most incredible chamber concert. It was a piano quintet (piano, violin, viola, cello, bass), and they played a quintet written by Schubert, and then another by Piazzola, who has a real affection for the cello. It was just beautiful, and completely free.

Nothing incredibly interesting or life changing has happened lately. I'm going to buy some children's books in italian in the next week or so, and then will commence the challenge of not just reading, but comprehending the text...I'll let you know how it goes.

I love you guys.

~Grace

Ho bisogno piu pazienza.

2007-10-14T03:30:00.000-07:00

I need a bit more patience.

I'm learning a lot about myself and especially how I relate to others. I do consider myself to have an extraordinary amount of patience (I grew up with two older brothers, one of whom is Allen- and, at our age, we would still be wrestling if it didn't hurt so dang much:). I have patience when I am talking with people who don't speak english, namely Arturo and Laura (our Romanian housekeeper). I have patience with myself trying to learn the italian language, it's difficult sometimes, and intense when you know you must mentally and aurally prepare the first words out of your mouth in the morning, because they will not be in your native tongue nor to an American. I also have patience with children (I'm a teacher, this is an absolute). However, I do not have patience with the Chinese. None.

They are rude and they are everywhere in Perugia. This town is very much acclimated to and for the young people that come here to study the language, culture, employment opportunities, and many other things of Italy. Apparently, the population of China has a great fascination with Italy, and it is because of this that I must enhance my ability to control the urge to throw my pen in the face of the young man who will not allow me to think of the correct answer in my head before I speak it to my professor. This punk kid is gonna have to watch his back, 'cause I've got a few other things going on right now that may keep me from controlling the urge next week...

Now, as for my apartment: My roomies (Leanne & Maggie) and I have gone to the agency and expressed our displeasure with the arrangement we have. We will go tomorrow to the agency to see what solution they have for us, but in the meantime, we can't do anything about it, right? Except to go on living, of course. That's how I feel about it anyway. But the other girls have to talk about it and speculate and I'm about to blow steam out of my ears because there is not one thing we can change for these TWO days of the weekend, but that is all they can talk about. So, I need some more patience. I will write more when I know more:)

Now, onto il cioccolato! The Eurochocolate Festival has come to town for the next two weekends (google "Eurochocolate" for more details)! Today, I had a freshly prepared crepe filled with Nutella. I could cry, it was so delicious! (pic) Then I had caffe to wash it down (another pic). Then I watched these guys chip away at these huge blocks of chocolate like they were Michelangelo working on a new marble work of art. Geez, how fun! (Look for pics of chocolate)

Other pics will be of me and my roomies and Laura on Saturday morning at a caffe. I love these ladies and I'm going to spend Christmas with Laura (in the leopard print jacket) and her family in northern Romania! What an adventure this is turning out to be!

Last weekend, I went to Siena with a group from the community, and I ended up climbing a campanile (bell tower) over the city center. It was not a bad climb, and the view was great (check out those pics too)!

School is actually going very well: The greatest portion of what we are doing right now is much needed review of items I didn't get an excellent grasp on last summer. I have 20 hours of class each week broken up as follows: 12 hours of reading & writing grammar exercises, 2 hours of pronunciation & listening exercises, and 6 hours of verbal grammar exercises without any visual aid. Three different professors, but all of them very interested in my progress and diligent in their efforts. I'm enjoying it very much (except for my chinese classmates, remember?).

Okay, so, I think that's it for right now. I'm having an excellent time, and once the apartment situation is all sorted out, I am sure my shoulders will resume their natural position below my neck...

I love you all!

~Grace
p.s.
Arturo is still just as excellent as he was when we first met:)

Allow me to explain myself.

2007-10-09T10:22:00.001-07:00

I was not calling my mother a 90 year old woman, okay? I know that neither she nor I will live this down, ever. However, the pictures come up in the order they like and I have no control over that. So, it was an accident. And besides, I must say: My mom looks great for 90!

Love,
Grace

Per la prima volta.

2007-10-04T09:52:00.050-07:00

I am in Perugia "per la prima volta." And, it's life. Now, it's not THE life, but it's A life and right now it's MY life. Ah, so, it's interesting. There are probably four universities in this city, plus many other independent language schools and then Montessori schools for young children. The two main universities in the town are the University for Foreigners of Perugia (www.unistrapg.it) and the University of Perugia, which is for native italians. So, in general, the city is full of very young people. Well, I'm young too, in comparison to my "flatmates" (they are from Australia and New Zealand).

So, getting to the living situation: For my first week, I stayed in a hotel before my room opened up on the first of the month. Well, then, Monday, I spent the whole day trying to figure out how to get my keys and who to talk to about this, and once I got all of this figured out (entirely different story), I walk into an apartment owned by Signora Baccarelli. She's 90, and cared for by Laurea, a middle-aged Roumanian woman only here for a few months to make some extra cash (that's a different story as well). So, Laurea, speaking in Italian (practically the same language as Roumanian), shows me my room and gives me some keys and makes me some coffee ( I LOVE Laurea). So, I'm just happy to have a bed at this point, it had been a very long day and I still hadn't taken my bags from my hotel.

Well, shortly after I enter the apartment, LeAnne comes into the piccolo kitchen. I'm talking, SMALL people. So, LeAnne is from Australia, and she's 42, taking a leave of absence from her work, just to travel the world. I LOVE LeAnne. She's really excellent. And she's off for 6 months, all paid days of vacation and such. She's taking beginning Italian for a month in Perugia, and we've become good friends.

Then, dopo (later), Maggie comes to the apartment to collect her keys and such. Well, Maggie is from New Zealand, and she is here with her son, Alex (20), both to study Italian. Alex is studying for a month at my university and Maggie is taking beginning Italian at an independent school somewhere else in the town. She seems a bit nervous, and her class is a bit difficult for her, but, she wants to pay me to be her tutor. And, yes, I LOVE Maggie.

I've got some excellent people in my life here. However, Signora. Well, they call her Nonna (which means Gramma). So, Nonna, says "NO!" to everything. We cannot use the glasses from the kitchen. Likewise, we cannot use the plates. We cannot keep any of our things in the bathroom. We cannot use the kitchen at certain times of the day, because she occupies the kitchen at normal eating hours. I have to keep my dry food items in my room on some shelves. We cannot have friends over for dinner, and boys, OH GOODNESS, no BOYS, ever.

Which, would not normally be a problem for me, but it is, because I'm seeing this guy, Arturo. He's excellent. Really. He helped me carry my bags all the way across the city from my hotel to my apartment on Monday. Who does that? I didn't even have to ask him, he just says, "I will meet you at 7 and I will take your bags." And, we don't put the bags in a car, no, we CARRY them. All the way across town. Up and down these colossal hills. And it's nothing to him. Natural.

So, as you can tell, this not having boys thing over will prove to be a problem, because I would like to make him dinner as repayment for all of the nice things he does for me. He asked me if I like to cook, and I do, and he does too, so that's something we could start doing together, because the choices for eating out are so minimal and often very heavy on the stomach. And, it's going to get cold at some point. So the parks and the walks that we take every night are going to have to come to an end once the warmth of summer fades.

Okay, so for now, I'm doing well. The apartment is only for one month and then I will move. I told the housing agency about my displeasure today, and they said it would be fine to change after a month. LeAnne will be gone anyway, and Maggie may move as well. I'll try to take some pictures, on the sly, so you can see this ancient place.

There will be more, I promise.

Ciao for now,
Grace

I live with a 90 year old woman...

2007-10-02T05:11:00.000-07:00

whom others call "Nonna."

Okay, so this is hard...because even now that I have found wireless internet and I can use my computer, everything is still in Italian as far as the blog is concerned. So, it's difficult, but I will try to pull through.

Pictures should be to the left!

Okay, so there are a couple of panoramic shots and one of the street where my hotel was and then another of a street sign for the drivers and maybe that's it. I think there are some pics of the fam too:)

Love you guys. Miss you too!

I will actually write about some of my experiences next time, promise.

~Grace

Well, here I am...

2007-09-25T05:18:00.000-07:00

And there you are. A far, far way away we are.

Ah, so, Perugia is beautiful.

Maybe there are some panoramic pictures below, and maybe not...

I'll work on my skills.

Love,
Grace

How does one pack light for 6 and a half months?

2007-08-28T20:33:00.000-07:00

If you have any answers, I would be delighted to review them...

It's over, folks.

2006-08-28T13:11:00.000-07:00

This is just a note to say:

For now, the whole blog thing is over. However, when (not if) I shall be traveling again, you can view more pics and my thoughts on the world from right here. For some reason, unbeknownst to me, I do not receive any sort of thrill or real satisfaction from this online journaling thing. So, if you would like to learn a little more about me, gimme a ring. I'm pretty much always good for a chat.

Love,
Grace

less than a week

2006-07-31T07:00:00.000-07:00

So, I will be home on Sunday...7 in the pm, but my phone has low energy and I think my momma has my charger in IA, so I will do my best to get in touch with who I can when I can...

I am spending Sunday night with some friends, and then will return to KY on Monday, I'll be moving in to my apartment at Stephen Foster over the following weekend:)

I think I'm gonna miss Europa:(

Ciao for now,
Grace

Today, I'm in Prague, tomorrow...

2006-07-22T08:28:00.000-07:00

I'm still in Prague!

So, for the fam and friends who might like to know where I'm heading and where I've been and to the rest (who should humor me) here's my itinerary:

July
18: Krakow
19: Auschwitz/ Krakow
20: Roznov (A little mountaintop village)
21: Litomysl castle and then to Prague
22: Prague City tour
23: Karstegn Castle and more Prague
24: Free Day in Prague
25: Prague, then to Konopiste Castle, then to Cesky Krumlov
26: C. Krumlov Castle, then to Salzburg
27: Salzburg City tour
28: Salzburg to Melk to Vienna
29: Vienna City tour
30: Vienna
31: Vienna Free day
August
1: Vienna to Lednice Castle
2: Lednice
3: Lednice to Bratislava City tour
4: City tour of Budapest
5: Free day in Budapest and Gala dinner
6: heading home!!! So, when will I be in America...no clue...I'll look at my plane tix and let my peeps know.

I'm partially wishing I was home. Mostly so that I can wash my clothes...well, second to hugging my fam.

I'll update as often as I can. I'm really missing you ALL, so drop me a line when you can.

Today, I had beer at the best bar in Prague: the Golden Tiger...it was more than a pint for 30 Crowns...$1.50 American dollars. I love the Czech Republic.

Love,
Grace

North of Italy...

2006-07-19T13:18:00.000-07:00

it is still hot.
they don't speak italian.
I look like the natives.
Polish money is still worthless and euros don't get you anywhere.

That was a fun little game, don' t you think?

Well, I made it to Krakow and tomorrow we leave for the Czech Republic. I don't have an exact itinerary because they don't even have one to give us...talk about frustrating.
Plus, what am I supposed to do about this class I'm taking. No one will tell me what coursework is expected of me. Tell me to breathe, somebody! Go with the flow, Grace, take it easy...

K, well I'm gonna go have a dark beer and call it a night. LOVE YOU GUYS!

Ciao for now,
Grace
(I don't even know how to say goodbye in Polish. I feel useless.)

Mixed feelings

2006-07-17T09:51:00.000-07:00

Moving on is good.
Leaving is hard.
I will most definitely miss Italia.

I'll be in Poland next time you hear from me!
Grace

p.s.
Sarah,
How does the 14-16/17 of August sound to you?

Ahhhhhhhh, Roma

2006-07-13T09:39:00.000-07:00

I've been waiting to write that title line for some time now. Well, now that I've indulged, I would like to announce that I think I am allergic to Rome. Or cities. Or dirt, I guess if you get right down to it. In the hotel room, I'm GREAT. Once we hit the streets, I'm a big sneezing mess. So, after years of denial, I can only say that I am allergic to stuff.

Rome is a great city. It's also a very hot city with lots of big buildings and churches and art in those buildings and churches. Favorite thing thus far: Mom and I went to a Vivaldi concert the other night, very near the Piazza Navona, we heard his Gloria and some orchestral pieces. (That was some serious good worship time after being away from my church for this long) The concert was indoor, but actually in the courtyard of a bigger building, so there was no roof and the sound was just bigger than life from this rather small ensemble. Something I will remember.

Mom and I have been lucky to catch up with some really good tours at the sights that we have been going to see. Tomorrow we'll try the Vatican again, we'll be going at about 7 in the morning, before the heat of the day, so I'm keeping my fingers crossed and 3 bottles of water in my purse to make sure that I don't pass out while waiting in line...this time around.

Tuesday, Mom and I part at the airport. She is leaving for America and I will be flying to Krakow where I will meet up with my second group from school for a tour of more Northern Europe. I'm looking forward to cooler temperatures, friends from school, new languages (regardless of how incapable I will feel not being able to speak to ANYONE), and less italian food. I love pasta, but I've had my fill. BASTA PASTA! (that means "enough pasta" in Italian:)

Love you guys. I really wish you were here and I'm looking forward to seeing all of you in only a few weeks!

Ciao for now,
Grace

I told you there was more.

2006-07-07T09:18:00.000-07:00

Okay, so these are backwards, but...
Me and the sign at the school that I went to...this is VERY far from the hotel my mom and I are staying in. Which, while we're on the subject, is called Hotel de la Pace (or the Hotel of Peace), but OH NOOOOOO. There are no hooks, you have to put your card in the freaking wall to turn on the lights/AC, the fridge is not frigid, and the entire bathroom is like one big kiddie pool after you take a shower. More like Hotel de la Hell if you ask me and Mom.

Well, what did I expect right. We were in Venice. They save people by boat there.

Thus, the streets of Venice. Just like you imagined, huh?

Dad! Italian CORN! And a little irrigation. All from the train. Just for you! I learned some italian, but the words for "rotate picture" didn't seem like necessary material to my teachers.

Miss you all! Only about 4 weeks left! I'm like the little engine that could here..."I think I can, I think I can..." August 7th is closer every day!

Ciao for now,
Grace

in vacanza...not beach style.

2006-07-07T08:44:00.000-07:00

My mom and I dined "in style" on the train from Milan to Venice...she's so happy!

Me and Gucci in Milan...yeah, we walked in with authority, said "Don't touch ANYthing," and strolled back out.
My mom was worse than a little kid in a candy store when we flew over the alps!

Okay, Josh and Tyler and Alex and Justin and Micheal and Jason (if you're reading), this tree and the little white sign are for you. Josh will have to translate. The tree has different megaphones in it that make sounds according to the heat of the moment...like it's solar powered/sensitive.

The sewer plates have all of the sights of Berlin on them...Rather than uploading all the pics, this is what you get! (I keed, I keed)

More to come...

Berlin: country zwei

2006-06-28T13:32:00.000-07:00

Mom and I are in BERLIN! I'm checking as many countries as I can off of my list, but I'm lacking stamps in my passport (urgh).

So, today, I get off the plane and what do I do? Well, like any good American I head out of the gate area and to the baggage claim. NOT. One is supposed to pick up their bags before leaving their arrival gate area when at the Tegel airport in Berlin. Something I should have learned before flying alone from one foreign country to another, but if I look at the sunny side (gag!) , I can say that I have, yet, another adventure added to my list. I'll tell you about finding baggage claims in person...

We are staying with Claudia Thiele and her family while in Berlin. Claudia lived with my mother and I during my junior year of highschool as a foreign exchange student. She was very brave to be away from her family for that long, and we took her in after she experienced a rather unfortunate month with her first overseas family. She has been a wonderful host thus far. So good,in fact, my mother is even feeling brave enough to take the bus alone tomorrow!

I don't want to keep them up all night while I chat away, so when we have pics, we will post, post, post.
I can't wait to write about my first days in Rome. Heat over 100 degrees farenheit and a sick Grace = hitting the pavement...I'm fine, it's just another story, right?

Gute Nacht,
Grace

Rome

2006-06-25T04:12:00.000-07:00

I made it here. Barely. The heat is incredulous. Internet is not so easily accessible, so I will post about my 1st time in Rome when I make it to Berlin where my mom and I will be staying with Clauda Thiele and her family for about 5 days. I fly out Wednesday morning!

Ho finito le lezioni

2006-06-22T09:07:00.000-07:00

Classes are over! What a busy few weeks these have been. It does not even seem as though almost five weeks have passed by...that's over 30 days that I have been in Italia and my jaw still drops every time I pass by the Chiesa di Santa Croce, not to mention il Duomo...

I definitely learned a lot in both of my classes, Italian and Painting (a little less in painting, though; I just don't have that flair). My italian professor and I shared a nice moment at the end of class. I was the last one to finish the test, mine had some extra pages in it with material I was completely unfamiliar with and I was kind of freaking out when I looked over at a classmate and saw how far ahead she was...I was stunned, she must have studied A LOT to be that far ahead of me. I wasn't cheating, just observing the class' timing of the test. I was feeling really stupid when I asked her how many grammar questions she had, and we discovered I had 20 extra questions on mine! Francesco came over and quickly marked through all of the extra questions (the one's I knew I shouldn't have known) and apologized with great remorse. I was extremely relieved at that point, but I answered about 10 extra questions, so I was behind.

Anyway, with all of that said, I was the last one left trying to finish up the exam. Just me and Francesco. He came over and sat down by me as I circled my last answer and he told me about the evaluation he was giving me for the class and that he would definitely like for me to keep in touch. I told him that I already had an e-mail, handwritten to him in Italian, asking him about schools and their music programs and teaching opportunities and such. Then I gave him Giacomo Fiore's CD (a friend from school, originally from Genova, great classical guitarist) to enjoy and play during class. Then we stood up to say goodbye and it was kind of bittersweet. I held out my arms for a hug (I have only had one other hug since I left America, folks. Don't we need 10 meaningful touches a day?), and he gave me a great hug and then grabs my shoulders and gives me the most intense bacci (kisses on my cheaks) I have ever encountered. That's just the way they show they care...

He has been such an excellent teacher, someone to really admire. I can only hope that I can have that kind of energy in front of my orchestra classes some day. The previous day we had talked school a little bit, mostly because I was frustrated with some classmates who had slacked off the entire month until it came time for the test. One of them has been here for five months and she has taken the beginning and intermediate italian courses and she cannot speak a bit of the language (She reads her book in class, rather than doing the practice assignments he could have given us for homework). That is a complete waste of time. And it shows a complete lack of respect for the people of Italia that are gracious enough to share their country with us, AND our incredible teacher! Especially the people of Florence. Where, during the summer, it is overwhelmed by tourists from all over the country.

I'm almost off my soapbox, read on for some wisdom from my favorite author:

Time is to be treasured, worked with, never ignored. As the astrophysicists understand time now, it is not like a river, flowing in one direction, but more like a tree, with great branches, and smaller limbs and twigs which may make possible for us to move from one branch to another, as did Jesus and Moses and Elijah, as did St. Andrew and St. Francis when they talked with each other in that light of love which transcends all restrictions of time.

- Madeleine L'Engle

That's all for today. I'll try to put up more pics before I leave for Rome on Saturday morning! You really have no idea how much you are going to miss your family and friends until they are out of reach. I will be so glad to see you in just a little over 5 weeks!

Ciao for now,
Grace

The good and the not so good

2006-06-15T13:22:00.000-07:00

So, some days are good and somedays are bad wherever one may live, no? I tend to agree with my previous statement, but, I might add, good and bad are relative to the current situation.

Today began a little different than some days, but that has to do with roommate differences and knowing that I am being lied to...one cannot help such things...I will make do; but the other has to do with the social differences in the relationships between men and women in Italy (Florence, in particular). I have gotten my fair share of "Ciao, bella!" from the street vendors and random strangers as I make my way down one via or the other. One tends to get over and learn to ignore such a blatant cry for attention (especially because every girl likes to be called beautiful). But over the last week I have started to walk without making eye contact with the "gentleman callers." They don't like that so much. Today, one of them, after I didn't reply to his pathetic attempt at eye contact through his black sunglasses, called me a "bitch" after I passed. Can you imagine my disgust? I brushed it off the first time that it happened about a week ago, because the guy was kind of scheezy, but today it really got under my skin. It is just not polite and completely uncalled for. I shouldn't take it so personally, but after this trip I have really started to own my tendency to sway near the "old fashioned" way of thinking. So, to all of you that have ever said I dress too old for my age, or don't like that I get tired at 11pm on a Friday night, or don't share my views on personal relationships...begin to accept it. I want nothing more in life than to be like my Gramma, and if I were really doing that, I would have turned around to that name caller yesterday and told him to get a better life than selling cheap leather on the street of a dirty city and then maybe he would have a chance with some other girl, but not ever me. Then I would have walked directly to my favorite jewelry store and bought myself some gold earrings (she had style, friends). To the guys I know: Actions like that are pagan, full of cowardice, and lack any style or tact. Don't just be a gentleman, be a man.

Cinque Terre

2006-06-11T12:30:00.000-07:00

This is the view from the hike from Manarola (town #2) to Corniglia (#3). Bella, no?

Me and all that world out there. If I were to be a mermaid, this is definitely the water in which I would choose to swim most often. Crystal clear!

2006-06-09T13:11:00.000-07:00

Santa Croce. I live about 2 blocks from this church and I walk past it everyday to go to painting class. Inside: the remains of Dante and Michelangelo...and some art stuff...

Beautiful, no?

This is the whole group plus Kathy Skinner who is back in America, I think...
From left to right: Kathy, me, Kallie, Sylvia, Eileen, Valeria, Andrea & Heather. David Ribar took the pic. We are in the Piazza Santa Croce (An italian woman asked me for directions to there a couple of days ago, and I replied in italian!).

So, this is me, still American, wearing several things I have bought in Italy. The country has yet to wear off on me. They see me coming from a mile away!

Atop the Campanile!

Now, Momma, you wouldn't want to miss out on this view, would you?

I mean, they asked for a little help, and you know how I love to lend a hand...

The pizza in Pisa e molto buono!

2006-06-09T06:40:00.000-07:00

I think this morning has been my favorite of my time in Italy as of yet.

I woke up late this morning (as I do almost every morning...) and ate a little yogurt for breakfast. I put on my black cotton dress, teva walking sandals, senza scarf, grabbed my bag and was determined to do 2 things before coming back to the house: See the interior of il Duomo and buy fresh fruit from the Mercato Centrale. So, I hit the road.

On the way, I stopped by Caffe Dini to see Giovanni and Jean Carlo and to buy a water. This caffe is right by the duomo, but also on my way to and from my afternoon class that meets Mon-Thursday. I frequent that particular caffe almost daily. As I walked the perimeter of the duomo I saw the gift shop for the Museo del'Opera of the Duomo (one museum I went to a couple of weeks ago) so I stopped in to see if I could get a postcard or two of some of the art in that particular museum...I picked up some of the singing children (my very favorite) and I also picked up a copy of the fiction (based on true life) book Brunelleschi's Dome. This particular book was written by an Englishman about Brunelleschi, who designed and constructed the dome on top of the Cathedral that I was going to see. Professoressa had suggested I read the book before the trip, but I say, "better late than never, right?"

Then I headed to the Duomo, and, honestly...I've seen better churches. Sorry if you think otherwise (I really don't want to stomp on any toes...) The church was very beautiful, and when I can't wait to climb the dome, oh gosh, now that's the real spectacle, I'm sure I will retract the previous statement, but it's just another building in my book. The exterior of the church is the real highlight of the building, though. Honestly, I walk past it every day on my way to class and I almost lose my breath everytime. It's just incredible. The size, the stone, the embellishment, there is something new to discover every day.

Well, so, done with the church. Tourists are pesky and taking pictures in churches should be considered a mortal sin in my book. Why? We have a memory for a reason, and we have the internet...need I say more?

Then, to the Market. This market sells everything FRESH. "Fresca, fresca," as professoressa would say. I have yet to really use my hands as a part of the language, but Giovanni and Jean Carlo are teaching me. Fresh chicken, whole of course, fresh cheese, fruit, veggies...two floors of vendors. For those of you that enjoy a good Farmer's Market, you ain't seen nothin' yet! Well, I headed straight for the fruit and pasta which is upstairs. I picked up a pear and a nectarine and some blackberries and then some fresh RISO (rice pasta, my FAVORITE) and some dried apples. One must eat in this country.

So, I did all of this by myself and on my own. At this point in the day, I have spoken entirely in Italian to everyone I have seen since leaving my house. I proceeded to buy some gifts for people in the San Lorenzo Market, this huge market just on the street near the duomo. So many vendors: leather and scarves and jewelry and more and more and more.

I did some more walking and browsing in stores. One thing to note, my taste in jewelry remains intact. I have been eyeing a particular necklace in a store window for a week, so today I stopped in to try it on...well, I didn't buy it if that tells you anything about the cost. :(

Then, after purchasing some necessities from a BODY SHOP, how American, but I gave it my seal of approval when I found a much needed item I haven't been able to find for the last 2 1/2 weeks.

Then, back to my caffe for a late lunch. This is where it all got really good for me. I had a calzone and my water from earlier, then they gave me a glass of wine...how nice are they! Then, Giovanni asked me if I would translate some things for him...well, sure, I guess. So I sat there and translated their menu into English for them! I wrote it on a poster...not great handwriting, I must admit, but I did it nonetheless. They were so pleased and I was delighted they would ask me.

So, that's it for the moment. I am going to San Miniato for their vespers service tonight and then dinner with some of the girls and David Ribar and his wife.

Thank you all for your kind birthday messages! I had a delightful birthday, senza gelato, but I'll fix that today!

Ciao for now,
Grace

A Casa Buonarotti

2006-06-05T09:46:00.000-07:00

For the month, I live at Via Ghibellina 58.
Michelangelo's address was Via Ghibellina 70. Needless to say his home is now a museum, therefore, I am Michelangelo's neighbor.

WOAH.

Ciao for now,
Grazia

p.s. Mosquitoes cause itching and scratching itches looks ridiculous and gross. Therefore, I look even more ridiculous than if I was just some stupid American. I now look like a stupid, blotchy American who can't keep her hands off herself. That is my proof for the day.

Pics of the first week or so...

2006-06-03T07:22:00.000-07:00

These are those tulips from that first day of art class:)

So, this is the Campanile, the tower next to Il Duomo and La Battista (where Dante was baptised). One can climb this tower to get the BEST view of Florence. I did and I will again...with mummy dearest (GET READY, baby!).

Currently, this posting pictures thing is costing me a small fortune! I had the pics uploaded, then I deleted them and I thought I would just press the UNDO button, but then again, NOT because everything is in Italian and I know some, but not the word for UNDO and everything I clicked on did something more terrible to my blog...so, I'm redoing it...And it's taking forEVER.

This morning, I went to the Bargello Museum where there are several sculptures by the likes of Michelangelo and Donatello and the sort. Sorry for the ambiguity of that sentence...but museums are tiring. If this were a perfect world, one could get a ticket to a museum and the ticket would last a week and there would be one complete piece of art or a small collection on one wall and a chair or stool would be placed a fair distance from the piece so that one could observe one piece at a time. This way, the art can be admired and considered the way that art should be (in my opinion, of course). So, their are many images of David in this museum, but not the most famous, and their are several images of "Madonna con bambino." My favorite happened to be the small bronze statue of "Madonna con bambino" in a room on the third floor full of bronze creations. She was so emotional and had a real look of love and concern for the baby boy she held in her arms.

I just deleted another pic. I give up for today. Time for a gift of gelato. I HATE COMPUTERS. I wish I lived during the time of Pride and Prejudice. I would be Miss Elizabeth.

Ciao for now,
Grazia

Music

2006-06-01T02:28:00.000-07:00

I need it. I have been without the insistent strains of radios and computers and rehearsals and late night jam sessions in the Dynamo room for a couple of weeks now, and until yesterday, I was beginning to feel less like me. Now, I don't like to be attached. I wasn't even going to buy an iPod, but I caved a week before my trip and how glad I am to know that I am weak when it comes to purchasing electronics. I spent the week before my departure hauling & hooking up my stationary PC wherever I could just to download "one more album" to my shiny new toy. So, I listened to some of it on the plane, and a little on the train to Florence, but mostly I was resenting my purchase because it was "just another thing" to lug around. However, I must admit, I've been missing home and having a bit of a hard time adjusting to the fact that whenever I leave the apartment, there are people outside that don't speak my language & vendors that can pick out my American "look" as I pass. Basically, there are no people like your best friends and family. So, yesterday, on my way to Italian class I popped the bud-phones into my ears and put my iPod on shuffle. Good idea. I was walking down the street, much more confident of the directions at this point, to the beat of some of my favorite tunes. The best moment, however, was on the way home from Italian class: The Propellerheads came on...talk about one of my new faves. Drew, all my thanks are due to you: grazie mille. So anyway, that was my afternoon discovery. The album name is Take California.
The internet cafe is closing...alas...more later...pics tomorrow.
Ciao for now,
~Grazia

le clase en Italia

2006-05-29T14:11:00.000-07:00

So, the first day of class in Firenze, Italia. Only mildly frightening, really. Let's get this out of the way, folks. I believe in signs. I have been collecting and admiring wooden tulips since my very early childhood. So, I walk into the painting studio where I will be taking The Fundamentals of Painting (oil painting!) and what sits on the table at the head of the class other than two vases holding wooden tulips! Well, it meant something to me. Just like a redbird flitting across a sky or a light going on & off without your doing so. Those things can have a calming effect on a girl, especially when she is out of the her "normal" surroundings.

Well, other than walking 30 minutes with 2 cumbersome shopping bags full of art supplies, my bookbag swinging haphazardly from one arm, and still yet a large framed oil painting canvas, I tell you, I looked like a savvy florentine in my purple European shoes.

Let's spend a moment reflecting on Intermediate Italian. Well, I'm not sure that I can seeing as how I understood very little of what the professor, FRANCESCO, spoke. ENTIRELY ITALIAN, folks. Not a budge at all. His shirt was pale pink, unbuttoned to below his chest. Beneath the shirt was a gold crucifixe atop a bed of...well, you know the stereotype! He seems to be a great teacher, though. And a lot of what was happening at the end of last years' class is really coming back to me.

Currently, it is very late and I must be getting to bed so that I can get up and get to my homework da mattina (in the morning) . I wish you could all be here. I am having a wonderful time. This city is very inspirational, I feel so bereft without my cello.

~Ciao for now,
Grazia

2006-05-27T09:51:00.000-07:00

Me and Firenze:)

A few days later

2006-05-27T09:23:00.000-07:00

I'm very tired, folks. All day: walking, eating, walking, walking, shopping, walking, eating. Exhausting really. Do you hate me? I would hate me, it's va bene (okay). Here's a bit of an update:

I live in a 4 bedroom/ 2 bath/ kitchen-laundry combo apartment on Via Ghibellina. 7 girls, I have a single room:) There is a small enclosed terrace, the only light is from above, but the weather here is molto fabuloso (not italian) so the windows are open ALL of the time we are in the apartment. I leave my apartment door and walk two blocks to the Piazza Santa Croce where one can buy many souvenirs or food or leather goods or just sit on the steps of the Chiesa (church) di Santa Croce and enjoy the weather with Dante (he's the big statue on the steps). Watch out or he'll stare you DOWN. I mean it, he seems very powerful.

My first impression of the city is that it is a huge art gallery. However, with Professore Ribar (the art prof from Belmont) here to guide our group along, one realizes very soon that the statues on the street are reproducions of the real works that are in the museums. So far I've only been to one: Museo di Opera (Museum of the Works). Michelangelo's "Pieta" is there. How magnificent. Of course, the few of us that decided to go were exhausted after a long day of walking and CLIMBING the stairs of il Campanile (lots of stairs, much like climbing that tower in Boston, but more stairs). The hike was entirely worth it! The city is more expansive than one can imagine and this is the best place to take in any view.

Today was our big tour day. Here's what we saw: The Church of San Mitiano; the Baptistery near il Duomo (this is where Dante was baptised), il Campanile (the tower of il Duomo), Museo di Opera. We walked through some new parts of the city on the south of the Arno river (I live just north of the river). We begin our classes on Monday and I will begin painting as soon as I can get my supplies:)

I love and miss each of you. Honestly, I wish each of you were here. Kate, you should see my tan!

Ciao for now,
Grazia

Okay, I'm here.

2006-05-26T01:08:00.000-07:00

So, all of the excitement is completely OVERWHELMING. This is my homeland, for real. I should have been Italian...really. I mean, it's dirty, but it's a city. I live a little over 2 blocks from the Santa Croce Piazza where Dantè stands. FREAK OUT! He's a little frightening if you ask me. I am a five minute walk from Ponte Vecchio and very near Bruneleski's Dome (the Duomo). And the weather is MOLTO BELLA. Guess what color my new scarf is. Go ahead, guess. VIOLA; purple. And, my Italian is all coming back to me. We start classes on Monday. I'll be taking Italian and Foundations of Painting. Now, the other day I saw students painting from the steps of the Santa Croce Church. I am not kidding. I think I'll pass out I'm having so much fun. Is this entry too stream of conciousness for you? (Entry sounds so sterile and unfriendly, just like post. I'll work on finding something else.) Gelato is molto magnifico:) K, it's time to hit it folks. A little open house at the the school begins NOW! Ti voglio bene, folks.
A domani,
Grazia
p.s.
I don't have the cords for my camera with me, but I promise there will be pics as soon as I figure all of this stuff out:)

My very first post.

2006-05-14T20:51:00.000-07:00

Here's my blog:) Here I will post many items & pictures. Look at me! Look at me!

I love you all.
~gracious ann