Shoot - I'm a Week Behind Again! GAH! Also: DUBLIN

Now it's time for a brief Dublin recap.  I went there the weekend of the 14th.

Train and Ferry Ride:
Both were very lovely.  The train ride was nice and calming and we were able to see the beautiful English countryside, populated with all the sheep anyone could ever want.  The ferry, Ulysses, is the largest car ferry in the world, or some such thing, and consequently is rather posh.  It was really swanky.  On the way back we rode the Jonathan Swift; not nearly as classy but they did play a movie.

Hostel:
First hostel experience done, and nothing too terrible to report.  Some people were rowdy.  But how can you expect them not to be when it's Dublin, they are in their early 20s, on holiday, and it's their birthday.  The beds were more comfortable than the ones we have in London, so Jacob's Inn has to be doing something right.

Free Walking Tour:
Exceptional.  Went a lot of places, learned a lot of things.  Brief summary is in outline format below.

1. Dublin Castle
Not very castle-y.  kinda boring looking.  nothing too special.  It does have a statue of Lady Justice, or as Paul, our guide, called it, Lady Injustice.  Things wrong with her (1) she has no blindfold, indicating that justice is not blind and she has bias; (2) the sword is fully exposed and not partially emerging from her robes indicating she's ready to deal out some punishment; (3) one of her scales is partially shrouded by her arm whilst the other is open to the air, allowing one to fill with more water than the other when it rains, tipping the scales; (4) she faces the seat of the English crown, effectively turning her back on the people of Ireland.  Even in symbolism there isn't a good relationship between the Irish and the English.

2. Queen Victoria's Screening Wall
Put up when the Queen came to visit so she didn't have to look at unsightly scenes.

3. Jonathan Swift's 40 steps
The Irish have an odd sense of humor.  And they apparently don't ever say what they mean, especially when referring to eating babies.

4. Temple Bar Area
The actual Temple Bar no longer exists.  This became a central hub of the city after the government decided not to demolish it.

5. Christ Church
Fun story. There was a cat, rat, caretaker, and organist.  The organist found that one of his organ pipes was clogged.  The caretaker went to inspect.  He found a dead cat, took it out, stuffed it, and kept it.  This didn't solve the problem, though, as something was still wrong with the pipe.  The caretaker went back and found a rat stuck further up the pipe.  He went through the same process with the rat and now both are on display in the basement of the church.

6. Spire - giant space needle
Paul called this one of the biggest f-ups in Dublin.  Here are some reasons why: (1) it was built for the Millennium...in 2003, as Paul says, "They were 997 years early"; (2) It cost 5,000,000 British pounds to build.  Approximately 8,056,187 American dollars.  How many schools can you buy with that much of the public's money?; (3) "Ireland has a bit of a Heroin problem.  So, what do they do?  They put a giant hypodermic needle in the middle of her capital city." (4) It's the largest free standing sculpture, but it has a plethora of phallic nicknames.

7. Trinity College
George Lucas copied the Long Room of their library for one of his movies.  The college sued him and lost.

8. National Museums - Story Time
Barrack came to visit Ireland.  He's a rock star.  Prince Phillip came when the Queen did.  He decided to compare a pint of Guinness to the waters of the Lithe.  The Irish don't like him as much.

9. St. Steven's Green
Paul told us about the famines in Ireland and about Ireland's long fight for independence.  It was very touching and very powerful.  They only gained independence from England in the 1920s, and not even the whole island was liberated.  They still feel those scars and still understand what it means to be free.  I think we've lost some of that pride in America.

Amy and I Adventure on Our Own:
The other sites of Dublin, some off the beaten track.

1. Trinity Library and the Book of Kells
Cool and informative, but small and expensive.  Definite tourist trap.  If you want old books go to the free Chester Beatty Library.

2. Archaeological Museum
Fun, but if you're not into that stuff you can definitely skip it.

3.  Oscar Wilde's House, Mansion House, Oldest house on record
These things we tried to find.  I say tried because once we got to the location shown on the map there was nothing at the site in reality.  There were buildings, but nothing proclaiming we had reached our destination.

4. Shopping Center
Contains the largest indoor clock in Europe.

5. Marsh's Library
Definite must see.  First public library in Ireland and still in use.  Their books haven't moved in 300 years.  There are still bullet holes from the British misfiring into the library.  They have rotating exhibits, too, all of them look very cool and informative.  Only 1.50.

6. St. Patrick's Cathedral
Cool architecture.  Didn't go in because it was a little expensive, though.

7. Chester Beatty Library
Another must see.  FREE and contains what was once the largest private collection of illuminated manuscripts in the world.  Everything was beautiful and extremely well laid out.  Much more informative than Trinity College's set up and much more vast.  They had segments of papyrus from the first century c.e. for crying out loud.  Fantastic.

Lessons Learned:
1. Don't buy anything but beer or cider in Dublin unless you want to over pay by an absurd amount.
2. The Irish like to swear.  It's not meant to be offensive.  That's just how they speak.

11 April 2012: Directorial Debut

"The script is like an iceberg.  We only see 10 percent of it and we have to discover the other 90.  I try to build the iceberg from underneath." -Natalie Abrahami


Natalie Abrahami came to our class to speak with us.  She directed the dazzling performance of After Miss Julie we saw.  She was kind enough to share with us her directorial process.  She's a big believer in emotional recall.  Therefore, she has her actors improv not only what is inherently told in the script but also scenes that are alluded to.  In this way the actor becomes closer to the character.  If they play out a memory of the character and experience the same feelings that would have been there they can call upon that experience during the present moment and build from it.  She has her actors go further into their characters than many directors I have heard of.

She also has a time for script analysis in conjunction with the background improvisation.  She wants to clearly highlight the events that change everything.  These could be things as big as taking a razor in hand to slit your wrist or as little as saying "do you want toast with that?".  They are turns in the road and the director and the actor have to understand how they change everything.  It seems so simplistic, this idea, but is incredibly hard to accomplish.

Natalie is by no means a well ripened woman in terms of years.  She is young and beautiful.  In terms of experience, though, she may as well be a raisin.  Her biography and list of accomplishments are long.  If you want a full accounting you may Google her.  Take my word for it though, she is one woman anyone should be proud to work with.  Natalie is the type of director that I would love to work beside.  She is smart, crafty, and has a vision but she is not so stubborn she cannot change to accommodate her actors.  For so young a person she seemed wise beyond measure.  It was truly an honor to talk with her.

10 April 2012: Finding Your Inner Font

I know handwriting is thought to contain personality and insight into the individual but what about font preference?  Duncan, Amy, and I had a conversation about font types and what they convey.  Does font type relate to personality?  For example, I rather detest Times New Roman.  It's so liny and boxy.  I enjoy the small, smooth, curvy font that in Calibri.  It has a rounded fluidity that carries your eyes across the page.  The size is not so outrages and the lines not too exaggerated.  Does that mean I do not like rigidity or boxes and prefer to go with the flow of life?  Perhaps.

Once upon a time I used Bookman Old Style.  I thought it looked classy, which is what I was going for at the time.  It looked old and wise and that is what I was searching for.  For some reason I thought the font would impart some great wisdom to me and I'd be as smart and witty as Oscar Wilde.  I quickly learned it wasn't where my heart truly lied, though.  But does it still speak to the person I was hoping to be at the time?

I have a professor in Ripon who puts everything in Papyrus.  He's a little flighty and spacey but an old soul, full of knowledge.  The font fits him perfectly.

Do people who are complacent to use whatever is default lacking personality?  I do not believe so.  They just have had the joy or revelation of finding something that is completely you in a font type.  I charge you, then, to find yourself a font type, my dear fellows, if you have not found one already.  And if you're still a default-lover, more power to you.  Maybe you're the most versatile and adaptable of us all.

9 April 2012: A Day with no Looking

It's amazing what we see and what we choose not to see.  When Amy and I were in Florence we lived together and had all the same classes.  This meant that practically every day we rode the city bus to class together.  Our experiences and what we saw, however, were always different.  We rarely seemed to notice the same things.  Amy would mention how extravagant one woman's fur coat was.  I wouldn't remember seeing her, despite her sitting two seats away. Then I would make a comment about the park we passed and the interesting characters within and she wouldn't have noticed that particular part.  The same thing happens in London.  We don't even really think about what we are seeing.  Our brains just pick it up.  It's as if our consciousness is on holiday and our perception is running on overtime.  But it only picks up what it is predisposed to like or something that is so shocking it can't keep it out.  We have to train our minds if we really want to see.  This is what my professor, Natania, is trying to teach us.  In London, we are all learning anew how to see things.  We are trying to find and contemplate big questions.

The complication comes when our brains take a time out.  Sometimes they seem to completely shut down.  It's as if our brains can't handle the constant absorption and goes all Walden to compensate.  That happened to me on the way to Hampton Court.  I started toying with my iPod and we were there.  I didn't know where I had come from, the route we had taken, and I knew I wouldn't be able to find my way back unaided.   I had missed so much that was pertinent to my situation.  I had probably missed even more than that.

How do we train our brains not to shut down?  How do we get them to stay tuned in?  How much of the world and understanding have we already lost?  How much are we still going to lose?

General Announcement

I have a lot of catching up to do.  Please bear with me.

Forgive me if some are a bit introspective.

It's because of a class I'm taking in London.  We are trying to see the world anew and with that comes questions and contemplation.

A Thorn Among the Roses

The play The Master and Margarita I saw at the Barbican was interesting to say the least.  It is adapted from a novel written in the USSR in the 1930s.  I have no doubt that the novel is probably very good and has some major themes it struggles with.  The play, however, did not communicate that.  The whole production was characterized by the media they used.  Everything had a technical aspect to it.  There was no relationship, really, between the actors and the audience.  It was completely separate.  It almost felt like we were watching something not meant for us.  Almost like we weren't even supposed to be there.

The technical abilities the stage had were vast and impressive.  It would probably be extremely fun to play around with it.  However, that does not mean that you have to use every single ability in one performance.  It was too much.  After a while everything becomes lost: the audience, the production, the meaning.  You walk away not knowing what you had just seen or what you were supposed to have gained.

The production was interesting.  But definitely not my type of theatre.  It was more performance art than anything.  And most of the time that stuff just annoys me.

An Easter Egg Discovered

I found the escalator in Earls Court station.  Don't ask me where.  I probably won't be able to find it again.

More details on my interesting night to follow.

Happy almost Easter, everyone.

I'm a Cryolophosaurus

The Natural History Museum had this thing in the dinosaur exhibit. It was an online scrapbook. You take a card, put stuff on your scrapbook, take it home, and have tons of fun. In my scrapbook their happens to be a quiz titled: "What Dinosaur Are You?" The answer I received was Cryolophosaurus.

Below is also the little snippet of information they provided:

Current research suggests that Cryolophosaurus was a medium-sized, social,carnivorous creature...according to your answers so are you!

Cryolophosaurus was the first meat-eating dinosaur fossil discovered in Antarctica . Although it's a frozen land nowadays, Antarctica wasn't always covered in ice. When dinosaurs were alive the world was mostly a lot warmer.

Antarctica itself was further north than it is today, which meant it was nearer the equator and so less icy-cold. All sorts of plants and animals flourished there.

On another note, Americans are weird. On the tube ride home yesterday I overheard some American tourists talking about London. They were very obsessed with "Mind the Gap" and made puns about it the whole ride. When the grandmother asked the 12 year old girl about how she would like to live here some day the girl responded with, "Yeah, I would. It's a lot like Florida." Florida is no where close to the UK in any way. Thankfully that is the only truly ridiculous incident I have witnessed with American tourists. But I can understand where the stigma comes from.

Oddities

Did you know that the first tube station to have an escalator was Earl's Court Station?  No?  I wouldn't have thought that either, especially since there is definitely no escalator there now.

On another note, I have recently needed to use the Westminster Tube Station as a connection sight for some of my outings.  A thought occurred to me.  It would be the perfect place for a sci-fy movie.

Especially with all the cubby holes and everything.  Can't you just see something Mission Impossible-esc happening there?

Two Days, Two Plays, Two Fabulous Museums

A lot happens here in a short amount of time, it seems.  Or at least a lot happened in the last two days.  Wednesday I went to the Science Museum and saw a production of Nicholas Nickelbey.  Thursday I went to the Museum of Natural History and saw After Miss Julie.  All of these things deserve attention.

While I was not able to finish either of the museums, despite spending about four hours in each, I greatly enjoyed them.  Each of them will be frequented again.  The Science Museum held some pretty cool stuff.  I liked the time and space exhibits the best.  Surprisingly, the evolution of clocks is rather fascinating.  Another fascinating tidbit: the point of view of the space exhibition.  In American Science Museums it's always Buzz Aldrin this and Apollo 11 that.  Not in Britain.  They actually had a large section dedicated to the Russian side of the Space Race.  The downplay of American achievements and the highlight of the Soviets was extremely interesting.  I guess every country does this sort of thing, though.  We all boast of our achievements and sweep our mistakes and our competitor's achievements under the rug.  Britain did this, too.  Sure they may have had a few space blunders but they were at least able to develop their technology further, so says the Science Museum.  The failure is not what matters.  What matters is the processes.  Shameless.  That's what we are.  Simply shameless.

Now, Nicholas Nickelbey is a book by Charles Dickens that was adapted for the stage.  It should have stayed a book.  The play we saw was a half, cut down version of an eight hour play.  This meant that the actions jumped about, the script was jumbled, and there was no conclusion.  There may not have even been a climax.  There were plenty of entertaining parts, to be sure, but the play as a whole was very much a blunder. Thursday night's performance was much more well received.

Thursday was a wonderful day.  The Natural History Museum taught me about dinosaurs.  It also explained to me how my memory works and how the body operates.  It even demonstrated that the mongoose is the closest genetic relative to the hyena (I know!).  Of course, after four hours it was lunch time and we hadn't even finished the blue section of the museum.  But all is well.  The museum is free and open all year round.  It was a splendid beginning to the day.

After Miss Julie played that night at the Young Vic, a hip and young theatre on the other side of town.  It was a fabulous performance.  The acting was raw and exceedingly convincing.  Dominic Cavendish says in his review of the play, "With an alcove-hidden band of three allowing fragrant echoes of wartime standards to waft across the evening’s haunting, ardent action, here’s a kitchen-sink drama with an erotic difference, a blast from the past that feels like a play for today."  It was gripping.  You couldn't look away even when you wanted to.  Natalie Dormer, the actress who played the title character Miss Julie, was sensational.  She was able to play her innocent, deteriorating, bipolar, upper class character perfectly.  She also played Anne Boleyn in the Tudors series, among other t.v. and movie roles.  Her fellows were also fantastic in their roles and the intimacy the theatre provided allowed for a closer relationship to develop between the audience and the actions on the stage.  All in all, I'd call that an instructive and entertaining first week.

She Stoops to Conquer

The first play of the ACM season kicked off last night to smashing reviews.  She Stoops to Conquer by Oliver Goldsmith was the perfect play to begin our time in London.  It was hilarious and fun, witting and whimsical.  The story is a bit like the General Inspector as it has plenty of mistake identities and misguided situations.  The lost gentlemen, quirky squire, and overbearing mother are hilarious.  And, since it is a comedy, it ends in a wedding (or at least the promise of one).

This is the poster the National Theatre put out to promote it.

I know, sort of gives you the wrong impression, doesn't it?  However, the play was still fantastic.  And the set was amazing as well.  The Olivier Theatre is able to rotate 360 degrees and lower a 40 foot contraption beneath the floor.  They have automated lights, a fog machine, and microphones that aren't too overbearing.  And they did set changes in a new and fun way.  They chorus would come out and sing a few words, not really words, but notes, as the set moved around.  They did fun dances and entertaining mini skits.  It was very effective.

Excerpts from some reviews are on the link below.
http://www.nationaltheatre.org.uk/68406/productions/she-stoops-to-conquer.html

A Two Day Kind of Paris

The first place our excursion took us in Paris was to the Louvre.  I knew the Louvre housed one of the largest collections of Renaissance Art and that it had many other exhibits as well.  What I didn't realize was that I would enjoy spending four hours in it as much as I did.  I easily could have spent much longer there, too.

The first place we went after entering into the huge glass pyramid (which is super hot, I might point out) was the Denon Wing.  This is where sculptures by Michelangelo are housed, where the Mona Lisa lives, and where there is a rather impressive staircase with a very familiar statue as the focus.  I happen to have a miniature of this Nike sculpture sitting on my desk at home.  My beloved sister, Danielle, often tries to steal it from me.  Sometimes she even comes close.  After seeing how impressive the original is, however, there is no way she's getting close to it again.

After the impressive staircase was an even more impressive gallery of Renaissance paintings from Italy.  There was a fresco on the wall leading into the exhibit and I was able to identify the artist without the aid of a placard.  Guess I did learn something from all of those site visits when I was in Italy.  Another painting in the Denon caught my attention.  I was drawn to it before I knew what it was.  Then I figured out I had actually been there and maybe that is why I loved it so much.  It's a painting of the St Francis Church in Assisi.  The underground church (first to be build with a second built later over top) was truly magnificent.  Turns out the only picture I have of it is now the one posted below.

But enough of Renaissance art and the Louvre.  They are fantastic and all, but that was only one thing I did while in Paris.  We also went by the river, saw Notre Dame and looked in on some great pastry shops.  But the magic of Paris is not just above the ground, it is beneath it as well.  So, into the catacombs of the city we went.  The catacombs aren't actually as old as you may think, either.  They were a project started in the late 18th century to help reinforce the city or some nonsense like that.  For over a hundred years the bones of people from the Cemetery of the Innocents and over 150 churches went into this mass grave.  The result was nothing great for city support.  But it did make a hopping tourist destination.

Once above ground again we headed for a much more serene Paris mega tourist spot: The Eiffel Tower.  We stayed near the Eiffel Tower for a few hours, seeing it in all its aspects, including when the lights dance on it's surface.  All of those images are shown below.  We were going to climb it but the line was far too long and decided to take a little carriage ride instead.  Super fun and magical just begin to describe it.

And that was my first day in Paris.  The next day was just as beautiful and I actually ended up getting sun burnt.  We went to Sacre Coure, a marvelous church on a high hill with the best view of Paris.  We saw the Moulin Rouge and sat by the river for an hour or so and went to the Triumphal Arch.  Then we went across town to the Pantheon and called it a day.  There were of course things we didn't do and more that I would have liked to have seen but all in all I do believe my time in Paris was well spent.

The Beginning of the Progression into the West

Travelling to London had its ups and downs, just like everything.  It was a long day.  Our bus going to Pisa had mechanical troubles and we had to wait for the next one.  Then our flight at Pisa was an hour late.  Then we stood in line at immigration for about two hours (not exaggerating).  However, we did manage to find train tickets into the city for half price.  We got all of our things into a cab at Paddington Station.  I didn't realize the black ones were the real cabs.  The ones with the doors that open the opposite way in the back and have plenty of leg room, even with five suitcases inside.  That was another highlight of the day.  Then we got to our flat.  That was an experience.

Our flat was still messy and gross from the people before us and they didn't clean until we left three days later.  It didn't help that Amy and I heard a very loud, weird noise in our room while we were trying to sleep the first night, either.  However, it all turned out okay and now our rooms are spotless and wonderful.

Coming to London was a bit more of a culture shock than I had thought it would be.  All of the signs were in English and everyone spoke so I understood.  There was a large hustle and bustle and always so many people.  I felt out of place until I sat down at a dinner and heard people speaking in another language.  Turns out I had become accustomed to not entirely understanding the world around me.  Now it seems as if there's too much of it.  And too many people too.  Florence was so quiet out of the tourist side.  Seeing thousands of people every day may take getting used to.

This bit of hysteria made me feel even better about going to Florence first.  The culture shock would have been even worse when I came home.  London will be a good in-between city and a great learning experience. However, I still had one adventure to go before we got into the full swing of London.

A Time of Transition

About a week and a half ago now I toured a theatre.  It's name was the Pergola and it was beautiful.  It had the foundations of a church started far before the Renaissance and had a harmonious fusion of old theatre style with a new theatre play bill.  It felt like going home, being back in that theatre.  It felt comfortable.  There were even crews working to construct the set for their play A Doll's House.

They even had a contraption that could raise the floor level of the main theatre and bring it to the same height as the stage.

Unfortunately it's no longer in use, being completely damaged in the 1966 flood.  All of this was so fascinating to me.  It excited me for London.  I couldn't wait for the time to come when I would leave the silly Renaissance art behind and enter the world of Shakespeare.

But now the time has come to leave and I'm afraid it's extremely more difficult than I thought it would have been.  Honestly, how can I stand to leave a view like this:

This is a view of Italy that can be seen from the villa of the Capezzana family.  They just happen to be at Count and Countess status and own one of the best vineyards in all of Tuscany.  They took us on a private tour and we had a wine tasting afterwards, complete with some little snacks.  It was a perfectly Italian thing to do.

I know I have to move on and when the time comes I will.  In the meantime, though, I may drag my feet a little everywhere I venture in order to soak up as much of the city as I can before I go.

Secrets Revealed

It has been a running joke in our Italian class that our professor is only 17.  Elisabetta is fun and joyous and makes us all laugh.  Which is why when she remarked today that she is actually 49 we thought she was joking.  Turns out she just knows the secrets for staying young and being happy.  She says, "I eat Italian food, listen to rock music, walk a lot and drink wine, but only at night."  Now we all know where to start, I guess.  Doesn't sound too bad.

Making Past Connections

Yesterday a group of us students went to an exhibit at the Strozzi Palace entitled, "Americans in Florence."  This was marvelously serendipitous as it encompassed some of the things I still wanted to say about Florence before I leave it on Saturday.

The exhibit brought together paintings by artists who came to Florence in the early and mid 1900s.  They were enchanted by the Tuscan sun, the bridges, the Florentine's love of antiquity, and the beautiful gardens.  Even 50 to 100 years later people still come to Florence for the same things.  For the gardens especially.

Speaking of gardens, the largest and incredibly beautiful one is at Palazzo Pitti and named the Boboli Gardens.  It is an oasis in the center of a metropolis.  Among all of the historical site and crowded buildings there is a place of peace.  It's beautiful and I love it.  I may have talked about it before, but it deserves the extra attention.  Just look at it.

Life in a Lagoon Looks Slightly Familiar

I recognize this post should have been made over a week ago, but life and classes got in the way.  Although it was postponed, it is here now.

Last Friday, March 2nd, I departed Florence for Venice.  My heart was all aflutter with excitement and anticipation.  I had never been to Venice before and didn't know how it would compare to the picture in my head.  Let me tell you, it was so much better.

Venice was quiet and tranquil.  Being early March the city wasn't too overrun with tourists yet and you could still navigate the city freely.  Sure, we all went to a few churches and had group activities but that's not why I loved the city so much.  The truth is, Venice reminded me of home, but in a completely new and fascinating way.

The water lapped against the man made islands the way it does on the South Pier in Grand Haven.  There was a smell of fish and fresh air and the sun beat gently on your face.  It was perfect.  It didn't have the beaches or the shops and it wasn't configured in the same way as home.  They really don't resemble each other at all.  But they felt the same.

Venice made me long for Spring Lake River and boat rides, fishing and Lake Michigan, the board walk and sand.  It also made me feel calm and peaceful, though, too.  It was a clash of what was right and what shouldn't have been possible.  Venice was beautiful.  But I have a sneaking suspicion that high tourist season isn't quite as fun or quiet.

Southern Invasion: How Cowboy Hats are Ruining Today's Italian Youth

Going out at night in Florence usually consists of bars with color changing lights, thumping music, and a heavily crowded room you can barely move in.  Some nights this is okay.  Other nights you just want a simple drink that doesn't involve a cosmic lighting or a sound system that will blast you and your hearing into oblivion.  This is where the Dublin Pub comes in.  Normal lighting, good drinks, pleasant people, and the sound of the human voice can be heard above the music without shouting.

For all it's good qualities, Amy and I discovered last night that it does have one little abnormality.  This may not have been an everyday occurrence, but I secretly hope it is.  This experience is one I wouldn't mind being witness to again.  Italian line dancing.

If you've never seen an Italian line dance to country music, you're missing out.  The clash in cultures is comical and unexpected, turning an okay night into something entirely amusing.  Imagine it: mid-aged Italian men and women, in cowboy hats, line dancing in the Dublin Pub.  Magical.  And here I thought all of the best sights of Florence were in churches...

When Thirteen Fails, Twelve Prevails!

Wednesday evening was a night meant for the opera.  Tosca was playing.  The tickets were bought.  The house was packed and everything was ready to go.  Too bad we were all too tired to properly enjoy it.

Two days before Tosca (Monday)  there was a paper due.  As can be properly assumed, Sunday was a late night full of cramming and desperately trying to find the words that would end the paper writing agony.  Another long night followed.  Tuesday night was not spent catching up on the sleep that was so desperately needed, either.  Instead, it was used preparing for a midterm in our other art history course.  Needless to say when Wednesday came I was ready to curl up into a ball for a nap just about anywhere.  This includes the opera, unfortunately.

Honestly, and I feel bad for admitting this, I may have dosed off a few times during Tosca.  What my mind could mentally process, though, was very enjoyable.  The scenery was absolutely amazing.  Mind blowing, really.  The costumes were gorgeous and the singing was delightful.  The orchestra didn't play a bad note the entire night, either.  Everything was beautiful.  I just wish I could have been more awake for it.

As I have already stated, I was dead tired at Tosca.  And, fun fact, the theatre is about a 45/50 minute walk from home.  This is not exactly a recipe for success.  Walking being out of the question, next we turn to the bus system.  Now, the placard with bus times at the station says the last time bus 13 hits the station is at 23:25.  Well, we got out of the opera around that time and knew we would never make it.  Without the bus system, the only option left was a taxi; an expensive taxi.  We had to walk to the station anyway to find a cab and when we arrived we were pleasantly surprised for there sat bus number 12.

Bus 12 usually takes us from home to the station, which is right next to school.  So, naturally, if we left the station on it we'd get home eventually.  And eventually get home we did.  We may have had to ride the bus for half an hour and could have walked home in that amount of time, but it was still a pleasant ride.  I prefer to think of it as the scenic tour we never had.  I swear, if I remember nothing else about Florence, I'll remember the buses.

Multi-Culture Doesn't Even Begin to Describe It

I must say, dinner conversations in foreign countries do tend to have their fair share of amusements.  Sure there is the normal, "How was your day?" talk, but there is a lot more to learn as well.  The new company makes things fun and the language barrier makes things interesting.  Many a night Amy and I have had an odd conversation with Nino and Gabriella.  One night Gabriella asked us about Mormons.  She meant the Amish.  We proceeded to correct her and then try to explain what a Mormon was.  Like I said, interesting.

Nino likes to make Amy and I eat second helpings, too.  His argument is that it's good for our skin.  We don't believe him, necessarily, but we always take that second helping.  Gabriella chimed in with a bit of history.  She told us that Nero used to bathe in monkey's milk in order to have better skin and to look younger or whatever.  Shocked, Amy and I asked her to repeat.  "Asino," she said.  Surprisingly, Amy and I knew this word.  "Oh, you mean donkey!" says Amy.  "A monkey is, you know, ooh-ooh."  Now, you have to picture her doing the traditional imitation of a monkey at this point as well.  Gabriella burst out laughing, as did we all. There is rarely a quiet moment at the dinner table.

Now there are two new members in the house as well.  Silvia and Maria are sisters, each in the mid- to late-40s or so and have come to Florence to take a cooking class for two weeks.  Silvia is from Phoenix and has a horse ranch there and Maria is from Mexico and owns part of an island in Cancun.  They are extremely friendly and the dinner conversations have only gotten more interesting with them at the table.

While Silvia speaks English very well, Maria does not.  That means that Silvia and Maria will talk in Spanish, which Silvia will translate into English for us and then Gabriella will translate that into Italian for Nino.  Confused?  Me, too.  I already was mixing in Spanish with my Italian.  Poor Elisabetta.  My Italian teacher will be all flustered with me.

Mountain Majesty and Sweet Serendipity

This weekend was Assisi and Sienna.  Two fabulously desirous cities complete with churches, duomos and hills. Both had fantastic views of the mountain surrounding them and it was there that I discovered something new.  Mountains are awesome.  They are beautiful and I can't get enough of them.  I feared to sleep on the bus rides for fear of missing something fantastic.  I want to have a view of the mountains all of my life.

Also, I miss water.  On the way to Assisi we passed a lake that Saint Francis used to go to pray.  That, too, was beautiful.  I feel as if I'm going to over use the word, but I don't know how else to describe it.  The sun was setting perfectly over the lake on our return trip, lighting the sky a fabulous, vibrant red and mixing perfectly with the dark blues of the shadows.  Again, I must say, I miss water.

Assisi was tranquil, quiet, cute, and bright.  The day was perfect and not even being enclosed in a cold church for two hours could dampen the mood.  The churches there were devoted to Saint Francis and Saint Claire, both originally from the town.  Google-ing their life stories would be more fun than me telling you, so you can do that.  Also, I saw a friend from high school in the church of Saint Francis, who also happens to be studying in Florence this semester.  It was extremely lucky and coincidental.  The main thing to take away: Assisi = quaint, hilly and perfect.

Sienna was a day trip also, this time just Amy, Krystal, Steph, and I.  With this journey we will be caught up with the other students.  The cathedral is nuts, by the way.  I wouldn't be able to have a mass there; too many distractions.  And I am convinced that if you look at it too long it will all blur together into an amalgam of colors and shapes that may end up blinding you.  But it's still a site to see, especially the library.

This is one picture from inside the church.  And I may have gone a little picture crazy, since I took about 300 pictures today... but there was a lot to see.

Another time I went a smidgen overboard was when we finally got up this bridge/tower/thing in the museum.  It gave us a panoramic view of the city and it's mountains.

Pretty.  Overall, not a bad weekend.  And now to papers.

Fickle May Rhyme with Pickle but it Describes the Internet

So there was supposed to be internet when we got here.  That didn’t happen.  But that’s okay.  Amy and I got a crash course in how to “rough it,” essentially.  However, the problem has been remedied.  The Pagani household now has internet.  Of course this means that homework will be that much harder to complete, but it also means that we’ll actually know what’s going on in the world.  I guess there are plusses and minuses to everything.

Forget Freaky Friday, 13 is a Lucky Number

Since my morning spent roaming the other unknown side of the city I’ve been somewhat weary of the bus system.  I know it was not the busses, but my own erring that caused my misdirection, but I still wasn’t all happy-go-lucky about busses.  However, bus 13 has restored my faith in the whole institution.

Every time Amy and I head home from a long day or need to take a new route to some historical monument 13 has our back.  It was waiting for me the day I went home late after having dinner with a friend.  It even waited for me to cross the busy, car-packed street before leaving.  When we wish to get away from the stupid, frightening birds that nest in the trees near the station, 13 is always there waiting.

It never disappoints and there is never an extremely bad driver either.  Sure, there are some who like to take sharp turns and slam a little too much on the brake, but never is there a driver truly unpleasant.  And let me tell you, there are some drivers on other busses I would gladly avoid.  13, however, is forever pleasant and will forever be my favorite.

Alfred Hitchcock’s Kind of Florence

Can we pause for a moment and just think about the birds here.  They are crazy.  Seriously crazy.  The pigeons here can’t fly, or don’t fly, or a little of both.  Everywhere you go, there’s a little pigeon hopping along.  They don’t fly out of your way, they just run along.  And when they do fly they fly low and clumsily.  One has already hit me and I’m not going to be surprised when one hits me again.  As annoying as they are, though, I can deal with the pigeons.  It’s the other little suckers I can’t stand.

There are these trees by the bus station, you see, and these little buggers like to nest in them.  They aren’t there in the morning but they come by the hundreds when we wait for the bus at night.  When they land in a tree that tree no longer exists.  There are only birds visible and no foliage.  They scare the shit out of me.  Honestly.  I’m developing a phobia. And this new little gem of a phobia is not going to be all too handy when we hit London, where only more pigeons await. 

And the Wheels on the Bus Go Round and Round

In my defense, I have been known to screw up my share of things.  I often misread letters and speak in a confusing manner.  This is not an uncommon occurrence and I have come to accept and anticipate it.  However, the problem gets a little out of hand when I can’t tell the difference between a C and a 6.  In my mind they are extremely similar, along with B and 3, among others.  To the bus system in Florence, on the other hand, they are extremely dissimilar and travel in opposite directions.  This is how I got lost in Florence for the first time.

When I stepped off the bus after counting to the appropriate number of stops I immediately realized I was not where I wanted to be.  This was a part of town I had never seen before.  In fact, it was a part of town that was barely on the map that I had.  I asked a friendly looking lady what direction the Duomo was in.  She looked at me with a concerned expression and said, “Oh, it’s very far.”  Not a great sign.  Trying to beat down my feeling of extreme paranoia and anxiety I asked her to show me where I was on the map (barely) and proceeded confidently in the direction I assumed was the correct one.

Lucky my deductive skills are better than my reading ones.  I found myself at my desired destination thirty minutes later without any more wrong turns.  Yes, I was a bit late for class, and yes, it was an extremely terrible way to start the day, but at least I know that I’ll never be as lost as that again as long as I keep to the tourist habits and have a map close at hand.

Just Don’t Call Me Ishmael

Day two in Rome was much better, thanks to the purchase of much needed rain boots.  The snow had continued through the night and gotten icier.  Rome was closed.  Literally closed.  People were not allowed to drive, public transportation had stopped, and people couldn’t make it into the city limits.  This means that only the outside of some buildings were accessible.  The Coliseum was closed.  The Pantheon was closed.  The Trevi Fountain and the Spanish Steps were roped off.  The only things open to the public were churches, and even some of them were closed.  Still, pictures were taken and fun times were had.  Cold still permeated our multiple layers of clothing, but at least the snow had let up some.  There were two different walking tours that we took.  We walked most of the day but saw a ton of stuff.  The day was packed and honestly it was all quite a blur.  At the end of the day all I wanted was the blisters in my feet to stop hurting and a nice soft bed with two pillows for a change.  Despite my wish going unfulfilled, I still conked out as soon as my head hit the pillow.

The next day the Galleria Borghese was closed.  That led to a free morning and an early trip back to Florence to avoid ice.  Krystal, Steph and I headed out toward Piazza San Bernardo on the opposite side of the city.  There was a sculpture there called the Ecstasy of Saint Teresa that Steph wanted to see.  Unfortunately the church was at mass when we arrived the first time and then closed when we came back the second, so we didn’t have a chance to see it.  The morning wasn’t wasted, however.  We all had fun exploring and were ready for a nice long bus ride home come one o’clock.

It wasn’t until that evening when we arrived back at our host family’s house that we realized how much we missed it.  Afternoon tea has been something that we have come to love.  And dinner is a ritual we can hardly give up.  Gabriella served gnocchi, a dumpling/potato/thing that tasted like home.  There was also some ham with gravy and peas, yes, peas, and a Carnival special for dessert.  Another thing I had come to miss, however odd it may seem, being called by Italian name.  Don’t worry, I’ll explain.

Many people may not know that the vowel sound in my name is actually very unique to the English language.  People from other countries, namely Mexico and Italy (b/c that’s where I’ve traveled) have a difficult time pronouncing it.  This was proven my first day in my Italian class.  Elisabetta, our teacher, was struggling with comprehension until her face lit up in understanding.  “Oh, Alba,” she said in her exuberant way of speaking.  It being much easier for her, I consented to the name change.  Upon arrival at Gabriella and Nino’s it seemed the same problem with my name was occurring.  So, to simplify matters, my name for any Italian has simply become Alba.  I do believe it’s rather fetching.

Sometimes, When in Rome, Even the Romans Don’t Know What to Do

Rome.  A beautiful city everyone should experience once.  This is where our group went on the weekend of February 3.  Friday started fine.  Amy and I made it to the train station early and got cappuccino for our efforts.  The train ride went swimmingly and even the early morning cold couldn’t dampen our spirits.  What did dampen us was the cold rain drizzling in the city when we arrived.  Persevering, we dropped our luggage off at the hotel and set off for the Vatican.  There we experienced something many are never able to. Beneath Saint Peter’s Basilica lies the remnants of the church that came before it; a church dating back to the first century in the Common Era; a church that contains the original burial place of St. Peter.

To get to this church beneath the church we had to enter through the Vatican grotto.  Here, awaiting our turn in the necropolis is where the snow started to fall, but I’ll return to that one later.  The necropolis was extremely interesting, being a communal burial site for Christians and Pagans alike and ending with the tomb of St. Peter.  We were extremely lucky to have been able to be that close to something so holy.

The tour ended and we were lead into the modern church.  St. Peter’s Basilica is absolutely amazing.  I am awed completely and totally by the size and spectacle.  It is a site that I was hard-pressed to leave, but leave I must.  The Vatican Museum awaited, along with the walk to get there.

This is the first instance of extreme snowfall the group encountered.  St. Peter’s Square was completely flooded with slush and ice and the sidewalks were not much better.  The wind was whipping and our bodies were plastered in no time at all.  I don’t believe I’ve ever been so cold.  Except for maybe the walk back to the hotel that came later.

The Vatican Museum was a great relief.  It was warm and lovely and a perfect distraction from the weather outside, for it was extremely frightful.  Our tour lead through most of the museum and deposited us in the Sistine Chapel.  The whole museum made me never want to leave.  There is so much to see and think about, too much for the few hours we spent there.  Then came the dreaded return trip……

First we have to pause and go over some history…  The last time Rome saw snow was in 1986 (or there abouts).  The last time they saw this much snow was in the 1950s.  This was therefore the worst snow that Rome has seen in over 50 years.  Unique?  Yes.  Fun opportunity? No. Especially not when wearing tennis shoes.  My feet were numb within ten minutes and the walk lasted for an hour.  Needless to say all I wanted was warmth and a bed. And that concluded our first marvelous day in Rome.

Julia Child Ain't Got Nothing on Gabriella

Tuesday afternoon rolled around and it was time for us to depart the hotel and make for our host families.  Moving in with our hosts was an adventure.  The cab ride over was generously provided by ACM and we arrived without too much struggling with suitcases on our part.  Gabriella is our host mother.  She is petite, cute, and a wonderful cook.  The first night we arrived she served us a zesty pene pasta, breaded, thinly sliced chicken and fruit for dessert.  Last night we were fed a magnificent risotto for a first course.  The second consisted of this delicious type of mozzarella cheese and a vegetable that I have never even heard of before, but it was delicious.  Dessert was a pear in the vanilla cream and honey sauce.  Amy and I have been blown away by our host's hospitality and cooking ability.

Our host  father, Nino is adorable.  Amy has accurately described him as the old man from UP minus 100 pounds.  He doesn't speak any English, which is unfortunate, but that just means that we have to learn Italian that much faster.  He was so kind, he even road the bus with us to Santa Croce the next morning to make sure we didn't get lost.  I know I said it before, but it needs to be said again: he's adorable.

We also have a Japanese student staying with us.  Kaori.  She's a student at linguiviva and is here to learn Italian.  She is also extremely kind.  She has a very mild temperament and likes to laugh.  Unfortunately, she's moving into an apartment on Saturday.  Both Amy and I will miss her.

Our classes continue with the same vitality.  Every bit of information is important and it's sometimes hard to keep up but I think we're all adjusting.  We went to the Duomo Museum and Santa Croce yesterday.  Both were interesting.  Santa Croce was beautiful but the Museum was actually warm.  It's a toss up to which one I liked better.

Friday we depart for Rome.  The train leaves at 7, so Amy and I are catching a bus at 6:16.  Early, I know.  Rome will be worth it, though.  And Gabriella, in all of her wonderfulness, has decided to make us a picnic for Friday lunch  to bring with us.  I dare say we got the best host family.

Adjustment Bureau

First things first.  Sharing a bedroom and bathroom with four other girls is extremely hectic.  Thankfully, we're all awesome and were all able to be clean and ready for orientation in the morning.  It will be nice to be in our host family's house.  Being able to unpack and finally get settled would be nice.

We also had our first class today.  Intense is the word I would use to describe it.  We went to the Duomo and were able to see Saint Zenobius' relic.  This bust of the saint only comes out once or twice a year and we were able to get closer than most people would.  The class was a bit overwhelming but we all struggled through.  Prof Solberg was nice enough to go through some material with us to make sure we're all on the same page.  We all felt a little better after the guidance.

Dinner was amazing, same as last night.  Tonight was pizza and wine with tiramisu for dessert.  Delicious.  All I need for the day to be perfect is for a good night's sleep.  Hopefully Krystal won't try to steal my blanket and pillow tonight.

Tomorrow we have our first Medici class, Italian class, and then depart for our host family's.  Excitement's in the air.

One for the Money, Two for the Show, Three to get ready, and Four to GO!

And so here we are on this fated day that is to be the start of my great adventure.  Excitement is definitely in the air but, at the same time, despite months of literal preparation I'm still a nervous wreck.  Butterflies are aflutter in my stomach, a frog has settled in my throat and I can't seem to get at the itch in the back of my head telling me I have forgotten something vital.  Despite these unpleasantries, we push forward.  Onward to the plane.

Now it's all a waiting game.

Arriving in Amsterdam was a piece of pie.  The eight hour flight over seas was a big ball of fun.  And that's only partially sarcastic.  The flight boarded on time, left on time, and arrived early.  There is an extreme discomfort I have when I am on an airplane, but this was a good trip.  The only problem with arriving early means that I have a longer wait in Amsterdam.  On the bright side, the airport is lovely and the people are very friendly, although I think I would have liked it there more if I like beer.  However, they have a Starbucks and that is the way to my heart.

I also met up with Sherie in Amsterdam and we were able to get to Florence and safely to Hotel Duca D'Aosta.  Krystal, Amy, and Steph (other girls from Ripon) and Duncan all came in as Sherie and I were checking in.  Having no rooms as of yet to crash in, into the city we went.  Pizza near the Duomo and across the river we traveled.  We walked for a few hours in the beautiful city and finally retired for an afternoon nap.

A magical start.