Barbara's Random Thoughts

Just a few links, because I'm in a remembering mood today.

The Anticipation

The Fulfillment

The Reflection

Labels: Italy

This feature kind of fell by the wayside, didn't it? On Sunday, I dug out my Italy journal one more time and came across this account of visiting Neuschwanstein with Melinda. As I poked around in the journal some more, I discovered that the day of my leaving Florence ten years ago corresponded with the day of my leaving the Bay area this year. Kind of a cool parallel. Anyway, here's my journal entry from Dec. 17. I would illustrate with some hilarious pictures, but my scanner is in a box somewhere. (You can say the same about most of my belongings at this point.)

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Fussen, Germany ~ Bed & Breakfast ~ 11:23pm ~ Dec. 17th, 1996

Tonight is the last night Mel and I will have together! Tomorrow at this time, she will be on her way to Budapest, and I will be waiting in Munich for a train to Florence. It’s so strange--I still can’t really imagine that I’m leaving. I don’t want this to end. The past few days have been so good--Austria, Prague, here...! I don’t want to go back to lovely, smoggy, dirty LA! [Heh. Not too excited about that now, either!] Today was so wonderful. We got into Munich at 6:30 and hopped on a 6:50 train to Buchloe, then a regional train from there to Fussen. It was so beautiful, the sunrise, the trees covered in frost, the countryside and little houses in a blanket of snow! This area is just incredible. We are in the Bavarian Alps--they are just right there off in the distance, covered in snow!

We got into Fussen at 9am and began to walk to the youth hostel. We kept on walking...and walking...we passed this little place that said “Zimmer Frei”--rooms free--and so we thought we’d ask if it was the hostel or where the hostel was. Turns out that the hostel is closed for renovations until Dec. 27th. [Here you have a representative example of how well we planned in advance!] But, it was a nice bed & breakfast we stopped at, some people were just leaving and said it was very nice [lots of nice here]...so we’re staying here! It is awesome to see how things have worked out so well. (Apart from my losing things everywhere! But I’m not going to go into that!) [Heehee. I had managed to lose both my gloves and my camera case in Salzburg--possibly more items that I can’t remember now. I was very sad for the loss of those gloves!] We dropped off our luggage here and Mel took a shower, then it was off to the town to buy groceries and exchange money before catching the bus to Neuschwanstein. We got there and were so clueless as to where to go or what to do! The castle was way up the hill and we didn’t know how to get there!

We saw that a bunch of other people had gotten onto horse carriages which set out up the hill. So we went over there and got on the next one. We sat there and then noticed where the trail up the hill was...debated as to whether to take the horse carriage up and walk down or vice versa...I just wanted to stay where we were, but Mel wanted to hike...we went back and forth with our reasons and ended up getting out like indecisive fools (which I guess we are!) and heading over to the trail. We walked up to the castle through the trees and woods in the snow, catching glimpses of the castle through the tree branches. We got up there and managed to join up with a group from a military base--I think we got a better tour than we would have otherwise. The guy was so nice, went in and bought our tickets along with the rest of his group’s, let us tag along on their tour...it was [wait for it...] rad! We started at 12:15 and the other tour in English began at 12:30. They ended up passing us towards the end—we got to see more! After the castle tour, we hiked up to a bridge behind the castle. Or rather pulled ourselves up by the railing! The snow had not been cleared away and it was really packed down and slippery. But we made it to the bridge and looked out over the castle and the valley below, all covered in snow. It was so gorgeous I can’t even describe it. It was freezing cold but I’m so glad we came in the winter with the snow. It’s so beautiful! We crossed the bridge and tried to continue on, but the trail was covered in snow and we had no railing to even give us an indicator of where we were! We climbed around the hillside in the snow for a while, then headed back to the bridge. We stood there for the longest time, waiting for the sun to rise a little more and shine on the castle! It was so freezing--my hands and feet and face were numb! But the sun finally crept around and we took our pictures--many pictures!

On our hike back down to the castle, we had a rather interesting time. The snow was still very slippery and going downhill was much worse than going up! We slid down, clinging to the railing...I almost fell once, slipped, and grabbed the railing and kind of swung around under it...then a few yards later, slipped again and fell really hard on my butt! I landed on my hip and it hurt so bad! The ice was so hard! Mel was laughing at me until halfway down the next slope when she fell flat on her back! It was so hilarious--us sliding our way down the hill! [Could I use any more exclamation points?]

We got back to the castle, looked in the gift shop [the conclusion to any good activity], and then got on a horse carriage down to where we needed to catch the bus. That was cool, riding along past the trees and the snow, glancing back at the castle. We had 20 minutes or so before we needed to catch the bus, so after taking pictures with the carriage driver, we wandered down a street, walking over snow and looking at the alps in the distance behind little chalets and fields of pure white untouched snow.
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I can't believe I didn't narrate a couple of things here. On our way up the hill to the castle, we took a detour off the path to a less-travelled trail that looked like a shortcut. It was indeed a shortcut, but it required clambering over a more rugged, snow-covered and slippery route...after we struggled our way to the top, we found a sign marked “sommer-weg” = Summer way. Thanks for putting that at the top of the climb...

The other episode I left out: the stupid stuff we did while waiting on the bridge for the sun to come up. The Sleeping Beauty castle at Disneyland is modeled after Neuschwanstein. So, Melinda and I made all kinds of Prince Charming jokes and stood there singing “Someday My Prince Will Come”...we commented that perhaps we were actually waiting for a prince instead of for the sun to rise. There's a brand of cookies in Germany that have a prince on the wrapper, and we had been eating these cookies during our trip...I actually saved the cookie wrapper just so that I could use it on the corresponding page of my photo album. Again, I wish the scanner was out. The visuals are priceless, but you'll have to take my word for it at this point.

Labels: Italy, journal, travel

Belatedly, I am getting around to linking to Lisa & Tom's blog. Recap: Lisa was one of my roommates in Florence, one of the two I reconnected with at the Trevi Fountain a month ago. Lisa and Tom are living in Rome for the fall, chasing after their beautiful two-year-old daughter as they do research for a book on Baroque churches. Now that I've caught myself up with their blog, and it's a month later--one month from our against-the-odds meeting--I wanted to link you to Lisa's reflections on our Trevi meeting, both before and after.

Three Coins in a Fountain
Dreams Come True
Hope

Thinking about this again still thrills me!!

Lisa's reflections on hope echo a theme that's been threaded through my days lately, something I will post about soon.

Labels: Italy, linking

Here is one of a series of Florence picture pairings: 1996 vs. 2006. You've seen the Mr. Right mug spanning two decades. Now I bring you the Centro Linguistico Italiano Dante Alighieri (say that 5 times fast), then and now.




























































At first, Melinda and I walked right past and didn't recognize the place--it was completely under construction. We doubled back and stood around gaping, then took some pictures. As we did so, the builders returned. Through broken English on their side, and snatches of broken Italian on mine (Melinda didn't even try...), they showed us around the building. The irony of our deplorable lack of Italian skill--upon our return to the language school where we studied--was not lost on either of the two parties involved.

Walking into Via dei Benci, #12, was surreal. It was just school, just where we had our classes and ate our lunches, where we hung out in the courtyard and picked up our mail...but it was a backdrop to so much more. Melinda and I walked down that bare entrance hallway and out into the courtyard strewn with builders' debris, and I found those halls haunted with ghosts of friends and voices from the past. It's always unsettling to return to places that were instrumental in your personal growth, and see an external representation of your internal growth and change.

That experience on Via dei Benci was a bit of a microcosm for returning to Florence as a whole. It was strange for me to return to Florence after ten years, stranger than returning to places from childhood after a long absence. I said to Melinda that it made me feel old, because these are adult memories that I'm revisiting. She agreed, commenting "Florence is where you grew up as an adult." I know there's been quite a bit more "growing up" here where I am now. I wonder how it will feel to return to the Bay area in ten years?

Coming soon: further exciting pictorial juxtapositionings including "Barbara at her apartment door" and "Barbara with a lamppost." I can feel the excitement now.

Labels: Italy

Cinque Terre--Riomaggiore

October 18, 1996

We got up totally early this morning—well, 7am. [Heehee—I love my qualifier there, as I realized that 7:00 really wasn't THAT early.] We took a 7:51 train to Pisa, where we changed trains to go to La Spezia. In La Spezia we took another train to get to Riomaggiore--the 1st city in the Cinque Terre. It was so funny--we were in Pisa and had 5 minutes to get our connecting train. And over the speakers we hear--in Italian and English--that the train from Pisa to La Spezia requires a supplement. We're standing there with 5 minutes before the train leaves, the ticket office is a couple of platforms away...so we just got on the train! The ticket guy on the train was rad, [sigh.] though--he was telling us (in Italian) that we needed a supplement and this train was a rapido...but he was so nice! He was like "Just look next time and make sure. But this time--ok." [This is classic. We did this more times that I’d like to admit--playing the stupid Americans who didn't know they weren't supposed to take a rapido on the rail pass we had. But I have to admit that the conductors on the trains were much nicer about it than the ticket office personnel usually were when we went the prescribed route and got our passes validated ahead of time.]

Then we got to Riomaggiore and found the hostel. They had room and it's not too bad at all! [Our universally-pessimistic edition of the Rough Guide to Italy didn’t speak well of the place.] Then we wandered around a little...found that the path to the next city was closed because of a mud slide--=(! So we took the train to the next city--Manarola. We wandered down by the sea and just sat there for so long. It is so beautiful! The ocean is this awesome blue/green color--it doesn't even look real. And the waves are all crashing up on the rocks at the bottom of the cliffs--the spray and the foam are just pure white. And the sun was out, blue sky, totally beautiful day. From Manarola, we found the path to the next city--Corniglia. Oh! [I forgot something...] But first, we wandered around Manarola. Just up and around all these little streets and steps here and there. We sat next to a little church and looked out over the hills above the sea. It was so cute--all these little houses in pink and yellow--gingerbread houses, they looked like! And they're all just built on the hillside, wedged in there, stacked against each other.

We went on from there and hiked over to Corniglia. It ended up that we took the wrong trail, but it led down to these steps that went out to some rocks overlooking the sea. We sat there and ate our bread and cheese, a banana, and some cookies. We could see back to the city we'd just left and on ahead to Corniglia. There were all these dark clouds over Corniglia, but we were sitting in the sun. Then the clouds began to move, and Corniglia was in the sun, but we got rained on! It wasn't too bad until the wind picked up--then we were getting wet both from the rain and the spray from the waves, and practically getting blown off the cliff by this freezing cold wind! So we walked back up to the trail and on to the next village. It was so beautiful along the way--walking on this path along the sea, watching the sun glimmering on the water.


And then we went on to Corniglia. [I had to acknowledge the digression...] I guess most of our adventures today were in Manarola! Corniglia was really nice, too, though. We wandered some and then found a place to sit and watch the sunset. I have been so surrounded by nature and God's creation today! The sunset was really pretty. The sun behind a few clouds, casting a pink glow over the sky and pink glimmers on the water...slowly sinking down and then disappearing over the horizon. We sat there for a long time, just thinking and watching the sky and ocean. I watched the sun set over the Mediterranean Sea today! This is incredible to be here.

[Narration of the next day's hiking]

On our way to find the trail to Vernazza, we ran into our waiter from last night! We hiked with him and ran into some others along the way who were staying in the same youth hostel as us. So we all hiked together: Michael, the Scottish guy who was our waiter, 2 Australian guys, and two Canadian girls. It was really neat to talk with them about places they've been and where they want to go...nice to meet people that are fellow travelers. The hike was so incredible. The views out over the hills and the ocean were so beautiful. It was so cool, the trail led up through the hills, past all these little vineyards, there were a few people here and there, working in their vineyard. And there were olive groves as well...with little old men picking up the olives. They would all greet us and say "Buon giorno!" as we passed.

[later in the day, hiking from Vernazza to Monterosso]

We ran into Caroline and Elizabeth halfway there--they were on their way to Vernazza. We stood and talked to them a little--we met them here at the hostel last night. Anyway, as we were talking, Elizabeth somehow stepped backwards or slipped or lost her balance or something--she fully fell off the trail, down a couple of yards into this vineyard! We were all freaking out, she's lying there and can't get up because she's lying sort of downhill...this Italian guy finally jumped down there to help her up...we pulled him up to the trail, then we all pulled Elizabeth back up! She was ok, just a lot of scratches everywhere. I think if she had put her hands back to stop her fall, or if she hadn't been wearing a backpack, she really might have broken something. But just the way it happened...it was so funny to look back on it, but not at all at the time. I just have this image in my head of her falling with this terrified look on her face!

[amusing train station episode from the journey back]

I opened my backpack to get some water, and as I pulled out the water bottle, my apple went flying, rolled across the platform, and then down onto the train tracks. But I didn't want to just leave it. I figured I could wash it off! So I bent down to get it (from beneath the train we'd just gotten off of)--and my backpack slips, hits me on the head, and then slides off onto the platform. We were all laughing so hard--I felt like such a fool! But I washed off the apple, cut off the smashed part, and it was really good! [Never one to waste anything, Barbara reaches under a train to retrieve an apple...and is proud of it.]

Labels: Italy, journal

"I can't believe that!" said Alice.

"Can't you?" the queen said in a pitying tone. "Try again, draw a long breath, and shut your eyes."

Alice laughed. "There's no use trying," she said. "One can't believe impossible things."

"I dare say you haven't had much practice," said the queen. "When I was your age, I always did it for half an hour a day. Why, sometimes I've believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast."






A dear friend gave me a magnet with the above quote, around the time we were both searching for publishing jobs. She added a note with it assuring me that seemingly impossible things can come true. Last Tuesday's appointment at the Trevi Fountain was a reminder that this is still the case. Rather than rewrite the account, here's an excerpt of what I wrote that night in my journal:

There we were at the Trevi Fountain, just before noon...the appointed time. And it was packed with people. It was so completely crowded! Mel had been saying we should make signs of some sort, so anyone who was there would be able to find us. Because otherwise? No way.

I had been kind of skeptical about seeing the girls, excited to talk about it, excited in theory, but I don't know that I thought anyone else would come. But when we got there and I saw the crowd, I realized how much I wanted this to work. We stood there above the fountain, and I took a picture of the massive crowd because it was so daunting. [I later went back to this picture and zoomed in to where we found Lisa. She's IN this picture.]


















I scanned the crowd, looking for familiar faces, for others who might be searching through the masses of people, for Wynne's red curls or Lisa's blond ones. Nothing. So we decided to plunge in and walk through the tons of people, looking as we went. Halfway to the far side of the fountain, where I'd stood to throw in my coin ten years before, I saw Lisa. I said to Mel: "Is that Lisa? Mel, I think that's Lisa!!" And it was. Mel started calling her name, Lenay spotted us, and we started yelling to each other and pushing our way up the step to where they were. There was hugging and screaming and I was totally shaky with nervous excitement. They had husbands! And kids! And Lisa's husband...was Tom! Lenay introduced us to her husband, Danny, and then Lisa said, "And you know my husband..." AAA! So crazy! She dated our painting professor on a semester abroad...and now they're married, and have a 2-year-old girl!

It was so good to find them there. No one else came (or we didn't find anyone else), but there we were, the four of us. Half of the girls from Via della Pergola, ten years later in Rome.

After the amazing reunion that we had, I feel a little selfish wishing for more. But I wonder about the others, the four who didn't come. Laura, Wynne, Jen, Zuleika. Mel and I had said all along that if anyone would come, it would be Lisa & Lenay. They're sisters, so they had each other to make this pilgrimage with, as Melinda and I had each other.

And the others? Zuleika dropped off the map almost immediately after our time in Florence. She stayed behind in Italy for a bit, with family in Napoli, and someone said she was in Spain for a while, but I never heard from her. Jen was going back to a life in transition and I was never sure where to reach her. Laura I kept in touch with for a bit, as I did with Wynne. Melinda and I had a small reunion with Wynne during the first semester we were back in California. But before a year had gone by, those contacts had fallen by the wayside as well. I actually ran into Laura one afternoon on campus at Chapman when I was in grad school. We exchanged info, and then never got in touch with each other again.

I remember wondering once if we set ourselves up for losing touch. Part of the pact of meeting again at the Trevi was the idea that we could find each other again if we lost each other in the years to come. The idea of meeting at the fountain had just that much more charm because we didn't know who would be there. And now that it's over, there's a finality to losing track of the other four. We don't have another "In ten years at the Trevi" to anticipate. And so I wonder. In spite of the incredible gift of finding Lisa and Lenay waiting there for our reunion, there's a sadness in the story. For those lost connections, for the four who didn't come--whatever it was that kept them away.

Partial reunion or not, this is a story that will be told for at least another ten years.

At lunch, Lisa & Lenay's mom offered the toast: "Here's to believing in dreams...and to keeping commitments." I'm good at keeping commitments, but I'm not much of one for believing in dreams. I don't like to be disappointed. But that moment of finding Lisa and Lenay waiting at the fountain will continue to remind me for years to come that dreams can be believed and the impossible can be hoped for after all.

Labels: Italy, travel

Sunset from the ferry


















Our hotel

Labels: Italy, travel

Bad: Melinda mistakes "treno" (train) for Turino, and we wait for the wrong train on the wrong platform.

Good: We discover the error before the train arrives.

Melinda: Why would the train be going to Turino--Turino is north; we need to go south.
Me: Isn't that what you said was printed on the ticket--Turino? Let me see the ticket. (Pause.) Mel, this says "treno." That means TRAIN.

Bad: We discover the error 2 minutes before our actual train is scheduled to leave.

Good: Our train is delayed, so we don't miss the train.

Bad: Our train delay causes us to miss the next connecting train.

Good: There's a little Tabacchi at the very cute station where we must wait. I buy potato chips and get a free "Bandana di Pirati." This is seriously cool.

Good: We make it to the ferry just barely in time, and go straight on board to buy tickets, rather than to the ticket office.

Bad: They don't take credit cards on board the ferry. We don't have enough cash to pay for our tickets. We are about 4 Euro short, the amount we spent on snacks at the little Tabacchi at the train station.

Good: The conductor is understanding and tells us to pay tomorrow. There is a beautiful sunset on the way to Elba.

Bad: We arrive on Elba 4 hours after we told the hotel we'd be there, and they've given away our reservation.

Bad: The other hotels on our list don't have vacancies or are too far away to get to without a car.

Bad: We drag our bags and our sorry hotel-less selves all over Portoferraio searching for a hotel.

Good: We find a kind woman who speaks a little English and directs us "through the door with the clock" (an archway with a clock over it) and up the hill to a small hotel with a vacancy. It's cheaper than the hotel where we'd made a reservation.

Good: We have an incredible dinner at the restaurant up the street from our hotel.

Good: Elba is gorgeous, peaceful, and QUIET. The weather is beautiful, and we have an incredible Sunday wandering through Napoleon's villa, up and down the steep hillside streets of Portoferraio, and relaxing on a small beach.

Bad: Leaving Elba, we encounter another train delay causing us to again miss a connecting train. We arrive in Rome so late that it's not worth it for me to go to the youth hostel. I sleep in the airport.

Good: I loved Elba and it was totally worth the journey.

-Quiet. Sounds: Seagulls. Ocean. Church bells.
-Blue, blue sky; blue, blue water.
-Beautiful little streets, shuttered windows, ivy-covered buildings.
-Napoleon.

Also good: Our departing ferry was named "Moby Love."

Labels: Italy, travel

...not from travelling in Italy, but from reading Bella Tuscany:

-“Macchiato” literally means espresso “stained” with milk.
-Bow-tie pasta is called farfalle in Italian. This I knew. What I didn’t know: farfalle means butterfly. I like that so much better than bow-tie.

Labels: Italy, reading

Bella Tuscany, Frances Mayes

(I knew bringing 4 books was ambitious, but I thought I could get through at least two.)

Conversation first night at the youth hostel in Rome:

Melinda: “I thought about bringing those optional reading books that we never read for Levonne’s classes, to finally read them. And then I thought, yeah right.”

(Barbara shamefacedly pulls A World Lit only by Fire and The Italian Renaissance from her bag.)

Yes, I dragged these books all the way to Italy again, and still didn’t read them. I am lame.

Labels: Italy, reading, travel

Because sometimes, they come true.

Trevi Fountain, October 3, 2006, 12 noon. They were there!!!

Well, two of them. Four of the girls from Via della Pergola ten years ago showed up to reunite at the Trevi Fountain this week. Melinda keeps saying it's like a movie...except it actually happened. It was an amazing meeting, and I will share more when I get home!

Florence is as beautiful as ever, by the way.

Labels: Italy, travel

I've been so caught up in memories these past few weeks, as I've been revisiting my memories of studying in Florence. This morning my thoughts took a different turn, and I started thinking about how much has changed in the past ten years--of all I've experienced since I was last in Florence. I remember sitting around with my roommates, talking about our planned Trevi Fountain meeting, and we were all speculating on who we would be in ten years' time. And here I am, ten years later. I know I've changed, but it's hard to pin down what all of those changes are when I've lived through them so gradually. I wonder where everyone else is--if Jen became a landscape architect, if Zuleika is still living in Italy somewhere, if Lisa and Tom are still together, if Lenay kept in touch with Apo, her Turkish/Italian boyfriend. And, if there's anyone who still calls Laura "la sposa chic" or if Wynne maintains the title of Mack Mama. I wonder who these women are today, and where life has taken all of us. I'll let you know if I find out on Tuesday at 12 noon, when at least Melinda and I will be waiting at the Trevi Fountain.

My last night in Florence, I sat on the Ponte alla Trinita, looking across the Arno at the Ponte Vecchio, and thinking about returning to Florence one day. I was sad to think that I was leaving a place that had become home, that had become a friend, and that I would only be able to return to as a visitor. Next week, I'll be a visitor in Florence. I'm looking forward to returning to old haunts and reacquainting myself with the memories that I'm sure will lurk around every corner. But there's a sadness in the returning--because that time is only a memory now.

I'm going to stop tormenting you all with memories of ten years ago in Italy, for the next 10 days at least. I fly out tomorrow morning (at an hour no human should have to be awake, much less enduring airport security) to go create new Italy memories. Stories will no doubt follow upon my return. Until then, be well!

Postscript:
Books I Shall Take on the Plane: An Optimistic Reading List
A World Lit Only by Fire, William Manchester
The Italian Renaissance, J.H. Plumb
Bella Tuscany, Frances Mayes
Atonement, Ian McEwan

(For "Books I Shall Actually Read on the Plane," I'll keep you posted.)

Labels: Italy, travel

The Palazzo Vecchio and the Duomo from Piazza Michelangelo



















Rainstorm moving on down the Arno

Labels: Italy

I got out the Italy journal last night and was reading through some of it--I'm sure you're all interested to know that 10 years ago today I was in Milan. One of the enduring references from that trip is a compulsion to say "Milan is...Milano" every time someone mentions Milan. (I really did have to restrain myself last night while talking to a roommate about how Milan is not in the south of Italy. I know! I've been there! And, Milan is....Milano!)

Small explanation: there were maps of the city in various languages available at the tourist office. The front of each map helpfully translated the city name from German, Chinese, Spanish, etc. into Italian. So the English map said "Milan is Milano" on the front. I was endlessly amused by this, and Melinda and I went around the entire weekend, quoting this phrase to each other in condescending tones. "Milan is........Milano."

My journal entries from Milan aren't terribly exciting (except that they all have "Milan is...Milano" written across the top, next to the date), so here are some other excerpts for you. The first one is very meta. It's funny to me to look back on this, because even now I have a similar reaction to a lot of my writing in this journal. But there are glimpses here and there of some pretty cool things I was thinking about and working through in my journal, like my reflections on the Basilica in Assisi. But I gloss over that here:

Florence, Sept. 25th, 1996

I am so frustrated with my writing lately…just looking through my journal...I've written so much--and what have I accomplished?! Melinda is laughing at me because I keep saying I'm shallow and write nothing meaningful. I guess I'm not a shallow person (I hope not!) but it just seems to come across that way as I write. I guess it just goes back to the whole thing of how it's hard for me to talk about what means the most. It's not that I have no depth, I just have a hard time talking about it and an even harder time writing about it, I guess because it's more permanent to write it down!

This was a theme I returned to a lot in these journals--about how my writing is sub-par. (And yes, Barbara, perhaps if you had refrained from using the word "rad" so frequently, this would sound a tad more intelligent. But hey, I was 18.) This is something I still struggle with--being a bit self-conscious about talking about meaningful things. Perhaps this is one of the reasons I'm so good at being flippant and sarcastic.

This next one describes one of my favorite afternoons in Florence, going off and exploring the city by myself. I have such vivid memories of this rainstorm and the view of Florence from Piazza Michelangelo.

Florence, Sept. 22nd

This afternoon, Melinda went out running and I stayed here for a while, studying. Around 2 or 2:30 I went up to Piazza Michelangelo. A bunch of people from our group were there, but I didn't find them. That was cool, though--I was really enjoying just being by myself, looking at the awesome view of the city!

It was so strange, though...as I left the apartment, it was raining a little, but not that much. So I went on ahead and started walking up there. It started raining harder as I walked, but not too bad. Then once I got there, (the view was so rad!!) it started getting harder and harder and finally just poured. I had been just standing and marveling at the view...the city shrouded in the mists of the clouds and rain...the Duomo and Palazzo Vecchio rising above the rooftops...but when the rain started to drip through my umbrella, I ran for cover! It let up before too long, and this awesome, full-on rainbow came out over one side of the city. Not just the half of an arch like you normally see, but the full arc, with the grey/blue clouds behind it.

I can't wait to be back in Florence, to climb up to Piazza Michelangelo and look out over the tile roofs again. Rain is predicted for the time I'll be in Florence next week. Hmm.

Labels: Italy, journal

(Yeah, I messed with the date on this post so it matches the title.)

Here’s the first of these. I had a bit of time when I got home from work today, thought I’d pull out the Italy journal, and then realized the date—Melinda’s birthday! After giving her a birthday phone call, I settled down and typed this up. This recounts one of our study abroad group’s day trips. The trip to Assisi happened to fall on Melinda’s 21st birthday.

I love this entry. In fact, I think I’ve posted bits of it before, because it sounds recently familiar, but here it is in its entirety. Snarky or explanatory comments, a la Sheila's Diary Friday, are in brackets/italics. I apologize now for my frequent use of the word “rad.”
------------------------------
Sept. 20th, 1996

Today was so rad! [count: 1] Melinda really had an awesome birthday...I’m jealous! Just kidding. It was so neat, though...even though we had to get up early and all. Assisi was so beautiful! It was just the total quaint, pretty town. Melinda, Felipe and I [the three of us had all been in choir together at FC] spent the morning just wandering around the town, going into some churches, etc. [Because that’s what you do in Italian towns—you visit churches.] But I think what I liked best was all the narrow little stone streets—stairways going up or down, all the doors with ivy or grapevines or morning glories overhanging, and all kinds of plants and flowers on the porches and along the railings...it just looked so European [ha!] and so pretty.

After wandering around, looking for some Roman ruins (which we completely missed because they were so unimpressive), we went just outside the city walls and sat on this hillside off the side of the road and ate our lunch. It was so rad [count: 2], just sitting there, looking out over the valley and the Umbrian hills…I think that was my favorite part of the day. [I am very disappointed that I did not recount here the story of how our butts got damp from the grass, and Melinda commented “Oh, damp.” There. I have now recounted it.]

After lunch, we went back to the Basilica di San Francesco and met the group for a tour of the church. Mel and I had to go to the bathroom so bad and we ran to find one close…which we did find, but it was a pay one and the pay thing was jammed, so you couldn’t even get in the door! Heather showed us and this crowd of old Australian tourists how she and Gina had wiggled their way in through the revolving door exit…it was so hilarious! These Australians were climbing through…this one old lady, and her husband was fully coaching her as to which way to go—“Now put your bum through, that’s right…squiggle in there…” It was so crazy…I really wish I’d taken a picture!

Anyway…the church was awesome. It was interesting, though—because it was so ornate, frescoes everywhere, his [St. Francis’] tomb was a total shrine…and his whole life was dedicated to renouncing all of that. Poverty, chastity and obedience were the three things that were fundamental to the whole Franciscan order.

The frescoes, though…wow! Downstairs, we saw Cimabue’s frescoes, Giotto’s frescoes, Simone Martini, Pietro Lorenzetti…all of the artists Jen [one of my roommates] and I were trying to sort out last night! And then upstairs were more Giotto frescoes, a whole series on the life of St. Francis. [It makes me so sad to read this. The frescoes I so loved were for the most part destroyed in an earthquake a few years later. They’re just gone. Powerful works of art, and they just don’t exist anymore.] And the guide we had was really good, she totally explained each panel. That’s so rad [count: 3] because then I knew what each one was about and what I was looking at, rather than just seeing—yeah, those are a series of frescoes on the life of St. Francis by Giotto. [I’m so profound.]

Midway through the tour, we stopped at the gift shop, and Mel and I were debating whether to get a book on the church or not. It was really nice—color photographs of each panel of frescoes, etc. And in English! But it was 30,000 lire [Oh, I miss the lire! I loved that exchange rate…15,000 lire was like $20 or something like that. It was so extravagant. I’m so sad it’s the Euro now.]…I thought that it would be perfect for all of us at the apartment to get for her for her birthday, but I couldn’t figure out how to get her to put it down and get Wynne [another roommate] to buy it without Mel catching on. Finally, Wynne and I told her we’d seen it for cheaper down the street [such liars!], and so I talked her into putting it back and looking elsewhere. Wynne went through a whole charade trying to get the book…there was one copy left and this other lady picked it up…AAAH! But she did get it [Wynne, not the book-swiping lady, just to clarify] and we all signed it and gave it to Melinda tonight at dinner.

That was cool, too…on the bus on the way home, I was talking to Melinda about what she wanted to do tonight—others were saying oh, we’re going out dancing, you have to come, it’s your birthday…and Melinda was saying she’d probably go. Well…I’m really not a dancing, nightclubbing type (really?!) [Ha! I love my self-mockery here.] but I wanted to go cause it was Mel’s birthday. But I didn’t really want to go! Anyway, we got back here and Jen & Lenay, I think, had invited Tom [one of our professors] over to dinner and everybody kinda helped fix. [Dinner, that is.] We put up the Happy Birthday banner we made for Jen’s birthday [another roommate birthday a few weeks prior] and made placemats for everyone. We had our candles in the wine bottles out and Jen wrapped Mel’s book all cool with pasta bowties and a flower…it was just such a nice evening. Laid back, just a leisurely dinner, Jars of Clay playing in the background [such sophistication], good food and conversation! And Mel said tonight—it was just really perfect [argh—Barbara, there are not degrees to “perfect”, it can’t be “really perfect.”], what she wanted. Not to have to conform to others’ expectations or whatever, but just have a nice evening here.

Today was kinda strange for me as well—just talking to Melinda now, about the Basilica and how rad [count: 4] that was—total contrast to a lot of the rest we saw today. I really was hit with the total Catholicism, saint reverence, ornate shrine, etc. this morning in the church with the font where St. Francis and St. Clare were baptized. That Madonna with the electric light halo…man. I really need to get these thoughts and feelings into a poem. Just the question of why? What is the thought behind this? Is it the complete reverence and exaltation of this person or is it looking at God as too holy to approach and the saint as an intermediary, or is it just a ritual? Kneel down, make the sign of the cross in front of this statue with the light-up, plug-in halo? That really reminded me of that Gary Soto poem we looked at in the spring in poetry—the “glow-in-the-night Christ.” How do I reconcile this religion with my relationship and my experience of God? All of this is just so foreign to me—the icons, the ritual, the shrines and the saints. Psalm 25, totally. [I’m not sure what I’m talking about here, as Psalm 25 doesn’t seem relevant. I might have been referring to vs. 4-5: “Show me your ways, O Lord, teach me your paths; guide me in your truth and teach me, for you are God my Savior, and my hope is in you all day long.” A prayer for understanding, perhaps?]

But the Basilica today—those frescoes were there for a purpose and that was awesome to me. To see the way they portrayed the life of Christ, the life of St. Francis so simply. In order for the people to see and understand. Art which is not self-serving, not overstated, not there to call attention to itself, but art which points to something greater beyond itself. It has a purpose.

“As critics scorn the thoughts and works of mortal man/My eyes are drawn to You in awe once again”

Labels: Italy, journal

September 5th, 1996 marked the beginning of the semester I spent living and studying in Florence. Ten years ago, my friends.

In October, I'm going back to Italy with my dear friend and Florentine roommate, Melinda. When all of our flatmates from that semester parted ways, we said if we lost touch, we would meet at the Trevi Fountain in Rome on a specified date and time (ten years from when we were there together). I've lost touch with everyone but Melinda, and I haven't been able to track anyone down via the web. I even resorted to joining Facebook, to no avail. (I couldn't quite bring myself to join MySpace, even for this.)

So, October 3 will find Melinda and me at the Trevi Fountain, wondering if anyone else will join us. Lisa, Lenay, Zuleika, Laura, Wynne, Jen...we shall see if anyone shows up. Half the charm of the idea is in the not knowing.

Preview of coming attractions: During my semester in Florence, I faithfully kept a journal. Since I'm the sort who loves to revisit memories through the "on this day in history" model, and since it's such easy pre-fab blog content, I'll be posting journal excerpts here frequently (hopefully not ad nauseam) over the next few months. Stay tuned...

Labels: Italy