Return to Florence: The Uffizi Gallery

The weekend of February 24^th-25^th, we returned to Florence, but this time without the bone chilling wind and freezing temperatures!  After yet another morning of last minute gathering of toothpaste, glasses, etc., my roommates and I were out the door by 6:40, breakfast bar in hand, as we sped along to make the bus at Piazza Cahen, which would take us down the hill.

Once again, it was quite the arm workout just keeping one’s balance with thirty students and two professors crammed into this little short bus and trying to balance without a rail to hold onto.  After a beautiful train ride, we arrived at the Stazione di Santa Maria Novella in Firenze and were off to meet Marco at Piazza della Signora, where the Palazzo Vecchio is located.

From here we rounded the corner past the copy of David outside the Palazzo Vecchio and headed to the Uffizi Gallery.  While Marco was arranging something with the Museum officials relating to our group entry time, our group enjoyed watching the groups of Asian tourists be frightened by a living statue of a Pharoah move.

After a very prolonged wait for security to check our backpacks, we were finally admitted into the museum.  While, there is no way to fully cover the entire art collection of the Uffizi, Marco focused his lecture on some key aspects of the pre-renaissance and renaissance art.  Unfortunately we weren’t allowed to take pictures inside.

The Uffizi Gallery is one of the most important museums in the World, and one of the first in Europe to develop the modern concept of a museum with organized collections for public viewing.  While the word ‘museum’ originates from the Greek term signifying a space dedicated to the muses, the Florentines changed this term to describe the space dedicated to housing a wide collection of sculptures, paintings, and precious objects.

The building was built around 1560, at the request of Cosimo Medici, in order to house further administrative and judicial offices.  (The word “ufizzi” literally means offices.)  Over time, the building was filled with the Medici family art collection.  Marco explained that to powerful families of this time period, having an art collection did not consist of whatever paintings or statues tickled your fancy, but was validated by the possession of ancient Greek or Roman statues (even if they are copies).  In this time period, having a copy does not make the artwork “fake”, as some would consider copies today.  The manner in which copies were made were exercises to both duplicate and learn the artisan techniques in which the masters passed on their craft.

Marco started his tour in the East Corridor of the Gallery, which housed the “nucleus” of the Medici collection.  This space was extremely well lit, with large windows letting lots of natural light into the space, reflecting off of the gray and white checkered marble floor and illuminating Alessandro Allori’s frescoes on the ceiling.  Marco explained that these frescoes were painted to copy the typical frescoes seen in ancient Imperial Roman homes, such as Nero’s Domus Aurea, discovered during the 16^th century.  The style is the first that neither has a religious or political connotation, but is purely for decoration, depicting landscapes, real and fantasy animals, plants, cherubs, etc.  They are called “Grotesque” not because they are odd or unnatural, but is rooted in the Latin word meaning “grotto”, describing the “caves” or rooms where these paintings were discovered.

Marco’s focused on the Altarpieces by masters such as Giotto, Duccio, and Cimabue, emphasizing the shift from the Byzantine style of art into the Early Renaissance style.  We started in Room 2, which is dedicated to the works of Giotto and other 13^th century masters.  Beginning with Duccio’s Maesta (The Rucellai Madonna), Marco emphasized the Byzantine influence on this Siennese Painter’s work by telling us to focus on the Madonna’s face.  The orthodox Byzantine art uses anthropomorphic representations of religious figures, but is adamant that the art not seem realistic, that these figures should remain other worldly and stoic.

Little by little (as Marco would say), more realistic tones were coming into these religious representations.  Giotto’s Maesta (The Ognissanti Madonna) has a much more compassionate expression, and even in her clothes you can see that it is much more evident how he emphasizes the maternal aspect of the Madonna, even allowing the white tunic she wears to be slightly transparent.  You also can note, that he paints the Madonna and Child as if they were a typical Italian mother and child.

In Room 3, we viewed the Siennese painting of the 14^th century, focusing on Simone Martini and Lippo Memmi’s Annunciation.  Looking at Mary’s face in this painting, you can see how much more realistic, expressionistic, and dramatic the scene is.  The left panel of the altarpiece depicts St. Ansano, the patron saint of Sienna, holding the Siennese white and black flag.  Another aspect of this painting is the presence of the gold background, symbolizing the divinity of the scene and extremely common in Byzantine art.

In Rooms 5 and 6 with the 14^th Century Florentine paintings we saw Gentile da Fabriano’s Adoration of the Magi.  Marco enjoys looking at this work, for there is so much going on, every time he looks at it, he finds something new.  The painting depicts the different stages of the magi’s journey to Bethlehem and is filled with animals, people, flowers, and all sorts of intricate detail.

Room 7 housed the Early Renaissance works, such as Masaccio and Massolino’s Saint Anne Metterza, in which he paints Mary’s mother, Mary, and Jesus in very realistic terms, with Anne as an old woman, Mary as a young mother, and Jesus as a typical Italian baby.

We spent a good amount of time viewing two of Sandro Botticelli’s key works, the Birth of Venus and Primavera (Spring).  Botticelli had two key periods in his life, his younger years where he focused on classical art, specifically Venus, but after a personal revelation only painted religious commissions in his later life.  An interesting note, however, is the fact that the face of his Venus is the same as his Madonna later in life.  He also departs from the classical depictions of Venus and adds multiple layers of meaning to Venus’ face.  Not only is she the Goddess of Love and Beauty, but Botticelli’s Venus represents fertility, maternity, and intelligence.  She has an innocent face, without any sexual connotation.

It was also apparent how much artists of this time period depended on the sponsorship of wealthy families.  In Botticelli’s Adoration of the Magi, he paints the three main men of the Medici family along with the Holy family.

In the room of Leonardo da Vinci (15), Marco emphasized the attitude Leonardo took towards religious art.  While not in the least a spiritual man, Leonardo used art as a way to examine further study.  In his Annunciation, you can see him studying the landscape and flora through the intricate detail of the flowers at under the angel’s feet.  You could also note, that this painting is the only homage Leonardo ever makes to classical architecture, by painting the Roman table at which Mary is seated.  You can also see how Leonardo’s perspective of human beauty and that of the hermaphroditic face.

We then traveled to Room 25 to view the only painting Michelangelo ever really did, the Doni Tondo.  (Frescoes don’t count).  This work was a wedding gift given to celebrate the union of the Doni and Strozzi families, two very influential families of this period.  This medallion of sorts was to be hung in the couples’ bedchamber as a wish for fertility and a fruitful life.  The symbolism of which being the ultimate family, Joseph, Mary, and Jesus.  You can also see how Michelangelo’s distaste for women as well.  In his females, you can see how similar their build is to that of the young man.

After Marco released us, the group headed back down to the lobby to meet our 1:30 appointment time to get our backpacks out of the coatroom.  Once we’d collected our things, I treated myself to an Uffizi guidebook, which is mainly why I was able to remember most of Marco’s lecture and find the names of these paintings.  The inability to take pictures greatly hinders my recall abilities.

Now free for the weekend, Lana, Cammie, and I headed out to find our hostel in the north part of town.  It’s name is Hotel Sampoali and I would greatly recommend it, for it was clean as well and Yvonne, the kind woman at the front desk was greatly helpful in pointing out where good places to eat and things to see were on our complimentary map.

We took a brief break to wash our faces and drop our things off, then set off to find some lunch.  Walking towards the Duomo, we found a pizzeria, which offered to-go pizza.  This of course presented a wonderful opportunity, so after each of us ordered our own pizza (I got pizza “melanzane” eggplant), we walked with our pizza boxes to the Duomo steps to enjoy the afternoon sun.  As the sun set, rays of light illuminated the gold of the Baptistery and the façade of the Duomo, creating a spectacular peaceful atmosphere amidst the bustling activity.

It’s amazing how much joy I find in people watching.  The Piazza del Duomo definitely is a key meeting place for the many visitors of Florence, students, and families alike.  We also enjoyed playing “Guess that Nationality”, listening to the mix of Italian, French, Australian, British, and I’m sure others I couldn’t distinguish.

A group of our classmates then called Cammie and met up with us at the steps.  While half of them climbed the Cupola of the Duomo of Santa Maria Novella; Cammie, Nathan, and I bought tickets to go inside the Baptistery.  The interior is extremely striking, walking into a very symmetrical space, but looking up to the gleaming gold mosaic dome depicting the stories of Genesis, Joseph, John the Bapstist, Mary, and the life of Jesus, with Jesus enthroned, arms outstretched as the focus.  My neck became very sore as we spent a good deal of time deciphering the Bible stories depicted.  You can see a clear Islamic influence in the floors with the ornate designs of the marble floor.

Unfortunately a large group of young high school kids came in, so it became very crowded, disrupting the peace of the baptistery.  After a while, Cammie and I wanted to meet the others at the top of the cupola, but arrived at the ticket office five minutes too late.  We took this as an opportunity to wander the city until our designated meeting time.

Looking at the map, we decided to head towards a large green square, hoping to find an interesting park.  On our way we discovered Via dell’Ariento, a shopping street filled colorful goods at every stand and people milling about everywhere. With vendors shouting out to us in English, I sometimes wonder how they can tell that we’re American, whether its by our looks or clothes or demeanor.

We passed the Basilica San Lorenzo and headed up Via Nationale, when we discovered a small paper store, which apparently was one of the home made paper stores we had been told to look for by other members of our group on our last Florence Trip. Cammie found a beautiful sketchbook, with a dappled, light blue leather cover.

 

Our green swath turned out to be a fairly simple park, nothing too special, but we were glad to see that the locals, sitting at park benches and gathering at the playground, were utilizing it.  We then looped back to meet back up with the others, passing the Palazzo Medici, where Cammie learned that even when crossing the street, look both ways, then look again.  Let’s just say I’m glad It was a bike that surprised her rather than a car.

Meeting up with the others as we’d planned, we then decided to find some gelato, for dinner of course, and wander the streets of Florence.  Returning to Via della Studio, Lana and I guided the others to Zecchie to peruse through the wonderful art store we’d found on our last trip.

Walking back towards Piazza della Republica, the sky was now dark, but a merry-go-round lit up the piazza.  As is to be expected from seven college students, many of them decided to ride it, while the rest of us enjoyed playing with long exposure on our cameras and holding their things.

 

Going through the arch, we found ourselves on a very high fashion shopping street, with stores such as Ferrari, Dolce and Gabbona, Fendi, etc.  We passed the Palazzo Strozzi, a massive structure that we’d studied back in Freshman Year.   It was getting late, so Lana, Cammie and I parted ways with the others and began our trek back up to Hotel Sampoali, guided by my ever handy map and myself.  Stopping at a supermarket, we picked up food for breakfast, and were in bed rather promptly after that.  Being in charge of the itinerary, I stayed up a little while looking up opening and closing times of our various points we wished to see the next day.

Home Life

As can be seen by the delayed upkeep of my postings, it certainly takes a while to decompress from these amazing weekend trips, load photos, write blog updates, research firms for internships, and oh wait!  Studio project???

When I’m not at home or school, often times Lana and I have been going to our favorite hangout, Bar Duomo, which is pretty much around the corner from our apartment.  On one of these outings, we discovered that Italians do trivia on Sunday nights, complete with a very tanned, well-dressed host enthusiastically reading off the questions, as groups of friends entered their answers in on the little gameboy looking contraptions.  Lana and I promptly turned this into a language lesson, and of course found we were better at the picture and geography questions than the popular culture ones.  We’ve met some great new friends; including Lauren the English nanny, Vitali the Russian, and Leo the Italian Musician.  Gotta love comparing the differences between all of our cultures, while experiencing Italy at the same time.  Leo is fluent in English, and also has spent a lot of time in America, so he’s been great explaining things we don’t understand or ask about.  A lot of times we’ll hang out at Bar Duomo with the Calcio (soccer) or Rugby game on and talk about Italy, America, Sports, Politics, Music, or whatever!

We’ve had some wonderful weather the past few weeks, which of course makes getting things done in studio a little more difficult.  Thankfully, our Italian teacher, Serena, was willing to let us have our lesson out on the Duomo steps on one of our warm days.  In between classes or after school it’s been lovely jogging around the Rupe or even just working outside.

On February 21rst, we celebrated Carnevale during our Italian class.  Our Italian teachers; Serena, Roberta, and Marina all got dressed up and we had a party with music, “sweeties” (as Serena refers to donuts and other treats), and dancing.  It certainly was a nice break from preparing our projects for mid-crit pinup the next day.  I’ll devote a post to our project later…

Our apartment’s Wine Wednesday tradition has not been an every week thing, as is understandable, but on the 22^nd it was nice to have a low key group over, just talking, relaxing and eventually convincing Aaron to get out his guitar and play some.  I love hanging out with all these guitar savvy people!  This past Tuesday (March 6^th) Josh, Aaron, Lana, and I headed to Leo’s garage for them to all play guitars together.  Though I don’t play, it was so relaxing to listen to them all talk guitar and play while I was working on a blog post.  Hopefully, we’ll get to do that again soon.

Lana and I have had several movie nights as well, slowly working through my interesting selection of chick flicks, musicals, action movies, and sci-fi.  It’s been great having someone who understands all of my Star Wars, Pixar, and Disney movie references.

February 24^th and 25^th, we returned to Florence, which again, I shall save for another post.

Ristorante Zepplin has continued their themed dinner nights. In addition to Valentine’s Day dinner, they’ve hosted a Burger Night on Carnevale (which I did not attend due to deadline time), and a Mexican Night, which satiated my craving for salsa.  For Italians making Mexican food, they got it pretty darn close, with chili con carne, “Orvieto Burritos” (which I could probably describe best as Mexican Lasagna with tortillas as noodles), guacamole, salsa, chips, and burritos.

Last night, a large group of us went out to eat at Sfizio’s to celebrate finishing our studio project.  Sfizio’s is a restaurant adjacent to Zepplin and is Rachel’s apartment’s most common outing.  This was my first time visiting, and I discovered the amazing pizza everyone had been talking about.  The crust is cracker thin, and really crunchy, with an amazing sweet to salty ratio to it.  I tried the Parmegiana pizza, which has pomodoro, mozzarella, melanzane, and parmesean (Tomato, mozzarella, eggplant, and parmesean).  It was delicious, and I’m proud to say I finished off the whole thing.  I still have to say, the pizza capricciosa is still my favorite.  This is a pizza with artichoke, proscuitto, olives, tomatoes, and mozzarella (or some variation of the sort).

We’ve gotten the chance to experience some of the local traditions in Orvieto, that tourists often wouldn’t get the chance to see.  The morning after we returned from Florence, Lana woke up to the sound of music outside and promptly went to investigate.  It wasn’t until she returned an hour later that I found out that there had been a marching band playing in Piazza Duomo.  This apparently was in celebration of Unification Day.  Thankfully, she’d taken video and if you’re on Facebook you should check them out.  When I say marching band, I’m not sure if that completely encompasses what this event entailed.  Apparently, a wild variety of brass and other instruments were being played and the band would alternate between trotting about the city then scattering, running around before coming back into an extremely loose formation.  Wish I hadn’t missed that, but I’m glad I got to see the videos.

Florence Post to come!

South Trip: Under the Capri Sun (title courtesy of Will Leonard)

And so my account of the south trip continues with Lana and I waking up to a very chilly room at “O’Dark Thirty” (February 18) in order to catch the 6:20 bus back to Sorrento.  Our group of ten packed up and headed down to the harbor to enjoy another beautiful bus ride along the coast.

Unintentionally, our trip’s timing has been perfect, for we’ve watched the sun set over the Mediterranean and now seen it rise, winding around the cliffs that edge this beautiful country.  The suns rays break through the clouds, casting an orange and pink glow and making a mirrored silhouette of the coast on the water.

For a while, we were the sole occupants of this little bus, but gradually more and more people packed themselves in, holding on tight, as the bus played chicken with cars and buses coming from the other direction.  It is amazing what two or three extra feet of lane, or even the existence of lanes will do for your peace of mind in America.

Back in Sorrento, we made our way from the bus stop down the many stairs that led to the harbor.  We bought our round-trip ferry tickets and caught the 8:35 ride to Capri.  As we pulled away from the harbor, the morning mist could be seen lingering along the edge of the mountainside, caused by fire or water I’m unsure.  The outlines of the land clarified as the wind picked up and we were further out on the Mediterranean.  As is to be expected, the wind was strong and chilly, but extremely refreshing as we all sat on the upper deck.  I’m sure I looked like a sea rat with damp, windblown, curly hair frantically pulled into a bun.

Once off the ferry, our group ran down to the water’s edge as I set off in search of a public restroom.  Though “public” implies the old man reading a newspaper outside the door will demand 50 cents after you use it, sans toilet paper and flush capability.  I met back up with our group, who were being solicited by a man offering to take us in his boat to the Blue Grotto.  We declined as politely as possible and bought our bus ticket from the harbor up to the Capri peak.  The Isle of Capri has two main peaks, with Capri housing Villa Jovis, designed by the Roman Emperor Tiberius.  The other peak, Anacapri, seemed much more residential, with larger homes and less touristy restaurants and shops.

The Blue Grotto is one of the most famous aspects of the Isle of Capri, so some of our group inquired at a tourist office and found that the Grotto was closed due to choppy waters.  I suppose that’s what happens when you come to Capri in February.  No complaints however, the weather was absolutely gorgeous, with bright sun; fresh, cool air; and a light breeze.  As we waited for the group to reassemble, Lana assuaged her cappuccino addiction and we explored the Chiesa San Stefano.

Trips such as these are so relaxing, for without an agenda we happily took to the streets of Capri.  These charming, winding streets were no more than five feet wide, only allowing for the little “put-put” trucks (as I like to call them) to pass by.  Everything was green here, and the colors were so vibrant set against the dry laid stone walls and glazed ceramic tiles, noting the street names and addresses.  At one point we found the Chiesa di San Michele, a beautiful little church set back from a residential street with an exotic garden.  Though I assume those plants are not exotic on Capri.

The villa of the Roman Emperor Tiberius was closed, due to it being off season, so we continued on until we found a very tree, supported by wires, shading an overlook over a steep cliff..  I’m unsure of who said it, but an exclamation of “Where do these stairs go?” led us down to what I would call a man-modified cave under what we believe is what they call the Arco Naturale.  The stone walls that blended into the cave surface reminded me of an Italian Mesa Verde, on a much smaller scale.

Curiosity prevailed, and backpacks, luggage, and purses were strapped on and we proceeded down the trail.  This became a true blessing, for we ended up hiking all around the Capri peak for the next three hours.  I feel that Capri revealed more of its character on that hike, exposing houses hidden into the cliffside, brilliant blue water, stairs leading down many private trails with all sorts of views framed by the brilliant greenery.

At one of these trail offshoots, Ashley bravely took off, and the rest of us followed leading to the discovery of the longest earthworm I have ever seen, and a trek that took us up to the summit of Capri.  Much of this experience can only be explained in photographs, and even then words cannot describe how much joy I draw from landscapes such as these.

Sweaty, tired, but still exhilarated, our mystery steps had led us on a wonderful adventure, which deposited us back into Capri civilization.  Entering back into the Piazza Umberto I, a waiter enticed us into his restaurant with the prospect of eight euro Panini and seven euro Margherita Pizzas.  Combined with the box of juice I’d bought at the supermarket the night before, this simple tomato, proscuitto, and mozzarella sandwich was absolutely delicious.

To complete our day in Capri, we wanted to make it over to Anacapri to view the Villa San Michele. Unfortunately, the villa closed at 3:30, but arriving at 3:00 the man selling tickets assured us that the grounds were small enough to experience in half an hour.  Marco described this 19^th century villa as his favorite site in all of Italy, and possibly the world.  Built by a Axel Munthe, a swiss doctor who traveled to Capri in 1876 and fell in love with a cottage and the ruins of the chapel of San Michele at the top of Scala Fenicia.  He described the site as the Mediterranean soul and it became his personal ideal of paradise.  He eventually bought and restored this villa, linking the renovated chapel with a beautiful classical house that now has become a museum of archeological items of local interest and artwork.  Marco considers this man’s autobiography regarding the restoration and construction of this chapel as the best book he has ever read.  Which is high praise, considering the fact that Marco’s main “addiction” or weakness is books.  I know of a man of a similar temperament.  I wish my dad could have the chance to meet Marco, for I know they are cut from a similar cloth.  The exotic garden was my favorite part of the villa, complete with colonnades, beautiful botany, running water, and unparalleled views of the island below.

The air was chilling and it started to sprinkle as I wandered around the garden.  Turning a corner, Gary and Susanne appeared, apparently having the same agenda as our own.  They’re everywhere!  Talking about the lovely layering of paths, with enclosed refuges and awe-inspiring overlooks to the horizon, Gary declared that this garden was a “superb example of Landscape Architecture”.  I would have to agree, and would love to return and spend an entire day to absorb the beautiful design of Dr. Munthe’s Home.  The story of its construction is sad, for Dr. Munthe apparently contracted an eye disease that prevented him from spending time outdoors, leaving him unable to enjoy his masterpiece.  We exited the villa via the bookshop, and I splurged and bought myself the biography, in English of course.

Together, we walked back to the central piazza of Anacapri and caught the bus down to the main harbor.  Cutting our time extremely close, due to waiting for the bus, we had to sprint down the dock to make it to the 16:20 ferry.  I’m sure we gave the Italian ferryman a good laugh, seeing a line of colorful students lumbering down the dock, trying to balance backpacks and bags.  Even Gary and Susanne made it, with Susanne even buying tickets, and then sprinting to catch up with Gary.  Laughing, we all piled into the seats inside the ferry, as the rain started to pick up outside.

Back in Sorrento, our group trudged up the steep streets and hundreds of steps to wait for the pink bus to leave at 7:45.  Pausing to buy water bottles, we ducked into an adjacent church and somehow no one remembered that Alex had gone to the bathroom.  The next half hour was spent walking up and down the street looking for our 6 foot blond friend.  Thankfully, we’d guessed that Alex might walk to the bus’ meeting point and he found us standing in a large intersection.  It’s times like that where it reaffirms my belief in “moving buddies” as Lana and I like to quote Toy Story, as well as my appreciation for cell phones.

We found a supermercato to get snacks for the ride, and then ran into Gary and Susanne in a very classy gellateria/bar.  Suzanne had bought a lemon tart of some sort that looked delicious, so I found the same and bought one as well.  It was a delicious treat after such a long day.  Though I think the barista was annoyed with the large amount of us camping out in the store due to the rain.  (She didn’t heat my tart up as she had Susanne’s).  That could be an age prejudice too.  7:45 came around after a while and the bus ride home was spent curled up on two of the bus seats.

This was such a rejuvenating trip, the combination of beautiful sites, sun, sky, sea was just what we needed to wipe away the bitter cold and snow of the previous weeks.

South Trip: Amalfi

The next morning (February 17th), we again had breakfast at our hotel, and then the Barbie Pink bus took us back to Sorrento, a good crossroads for many of the popular towns along the coast.  Sorrento, while not particularly known for any historic sites, is a beautiful town, with orange trees lining the roads.  I was extremely tempted to open the window, reach out, and have an additional morning snack, however I was unsure if that counted as defacing city property.  The bus dropped us off after some very impressive acrobatics through the winding roads.  We now had broken into our individual traveling groups, mine consisting of my beautiful roommates; Katie, Ashley, Lana, and Cammie; with the addition of Melissa, Berta, Jessica, Nathan, and Alex.  Together, we found the bus station and bought our tickets to the town of Amalfi…

By this point, the free juice and tea from this morning had fully settled in, and an hour long bus ride had not improved my situation.  Desperately, I left my backpack with the group and jogged down to the nearest bar, went to the bathroom (which was multiple stalls for men and women…weird), waited at the bar to get the bartender’s attention, ordered a cappuccino, waited for the cappuccino, all the while desperately watching my five minutes before the bus to arrive ticking away.  When he finally got to me, turns out this bar, called Bar Frisby if you care to know, does American-sized cappuccinos.  None of these dainty Italian cups here, and of course it was scalding hot.  Well, I enjoyed my huge shot of caffeine extremely quickly, paid as quickly as I could, and ran back to the bus stop, with just enough time to meet up with the group, pull my backpack on, and board the bus.

The bus ride to Amalfi seemed like something out of Under the Tuscan Sun, only sans motorcycle and handsome Italian man.  I ended up having my camera pressed against the glass for the majority of the trip, for every turn revealed another postcard perfect view.  The towns along the coast here seem to be entirely made of cliff-hugging homes with stairs that connected the winding roads, terraced on top of one another.

The bus let us out at the Amalfi Harbor.  And we joyously piled out, breathing the fresh sea air and delighted to see the Mediterranean up close.  Our next order of business was to find, check into, and drop our backpacks off at our hostel.  Thankfully, Berta had a little HotSpot, which allowed her iPhone to lead the way (a bit off but certainly better than we would have managed).  We ended up needing to hike up and up and up many stairs to the winding highway that would lead us to our beautiful salmon pink hostel.  I’m sure we looked rather comical with all large backpacks, walking like ducks in a line as cars whizzed around the corners.  These roads are not adapted for pedestrians at all, or at least large groups.  One could say we felt like sitting ducks…haha.

I’m not kidding when I say this is a cliff city.  Leaning too far over the ledge outside our hostel, Ashley’s water bottle plummeted to the road below.  It was rather funny watching cars swerve around that little beast of a red water bottle.  One yellow car even stopped, opened its door, and almost picked it up if not for us shouting from above.  Poor Ashley had to brave the road and stairs

again to retrieve it, only a few scratches worse for wear.

This hostel, Camera con Vista, was absolutely gorgeous.  Balconies and windows in every room overlooked the harbor, with main hallway carrying you in and out of doors through a series of open and enclosed staircases.  The old man in charge of the hostel seemed very frazzled, but gave us our keys and instructed us to not lose them and not destroy anything…check.

Upon his recommendation, we ate lunch at La Taverna di Masaniello, a pizzeria that was nearby.  It was nice to just sit and relax, for we spent plenty of time there, due to ordering ten pizzas in a 3 pizza per go establishment.  I’ve become quite the fan of the Capricciosa pizza, which essentially includes proscuitto, mozzarella, artichoke, and olives.  While we were eating, a small man with long fingernails and crazy grey hair came in with his guitar.  This man and the owner of the establishment obviously had an agreement for he plopped down in what was most likely “his chair”, was wined and dined while playing Italian folk music, the first I feel I’ve heard on this trip.

As any Midwesterner would do, we high-tailed it down to the dock to get to the beach.  The docks here all have these large cement blocks (or giant jax), which look like something they may have used during World War II.  I felt like my eight year old self again, and happily scrabbled over them to get down to the water, with the other nine quickly following suit.

 

 

 

 

 

Next on the agenda, stick our feet in the Mediterranean!  It was pretty darn cold, but that didn’t phase us one bit as we happily ran along the beach, collecting rocks and sea-smoothed glass and ceramic tiles.  I’m sure we were quite the sight for Gary and Susanne, who we spotted on the dock later.  Yup, those are Kansas State Students.  We frolicked about until the stones under foot were making our feet raw.

We decided to explore more of the town, for it extends up into the Cliffside for quite a ways, at least along the main street.  Wandering up the street we came upon the Cathedral of Amalfi, and lo and behold, saw another group of K-State students sitting on the steps.

The cathedral was closed, but thankfully our K-State comradres informed us that they had just snuck in after the latest tour group and wandered around inside.  With some patient waiting outside the door, we waited until it sounded like someone was fiddling with the lock, before a small priest with a big smile and brilliant white hair let a group of British girls out.  We asked him if we could look around, in broken Italian of course, and he graciously let us in, though made it clear that we should be quick.  It was then that Alex discovered the magic entry words, “studente architectura”, at which the priest lit up and happy started leading us all about the cathedral, showing us how the church had originally been Romanesque, but Baroque architecture had been layered on top of it.

 

 

 

 

 

Many frescoes from the Romanesque period had been left unaltered, such as the Virgin Mary, which I found interesting, leaving the church to look rather piecemeal in some places.  Even some of the statues had ended up as extra stones trapped in a mortared up stonewall.

Afterwards, with the air starting to get a nip to it and my jeans still soaking wet, we went into one of the many gelaterrias and treated ourselves to some!  So far my favorite is some sort of berry/vanilla mixture.  It always has a different name, but essentially tastes the same…something like black cherries…delicious.

Now thoroughly cooled off from cold water, wet jeans, cold churches, and icy treats, we headed back to the hostel to warm up and watch the sun set over the coast.  The sun was actually blocked by a jut out of land, but we were content to watch (and photograph) the sky change colors and reflect in the ocean waves.

Before it as dark, Lana and I ran down to the dock to climb out onto the rocks and get a better view.  I’m getting better at night photos, but I still have issues preventing blurriness.  It was so peaceful hearing the waves lap against the dock and sit on the darkening dock, while the coast twinkled on.

Once completely set, Lana and I headed back up the cliff to our hostel, only to remember that we had neither key nor phone.  So after a nervous pushing of call buttons, we ended up timidly shouting from the door, hoping someone was lounging on the common balcony/staircase above.  No such luck, so we ran down to the lower road again and shouted up at the open windows of our group’s three rooms.  Thankfully, Melissa came to our rescue, thanks to her window still being cracked open.  After we’d regrouped, we waited for everyone to be hungry (and ready) while playing a few rounds of B.S., and then attempted to play Mafia.  Ahh, camp games, I love thee.  We all decided to go find a supermarket and pitch in to help make dinner that evening in our room’s kitchenette.  2,50 euro as opposed to our 10 euro pizza from lunch.  I suppose it all evens out in the end.  Melissa and Berta were in charge of making a carbinara sauce, while Katie cooked pasta, Ashley tore up proscuitto, and a salad was quickly tossed together, with oranges as a dressing.  Everyone got lots of eat, and I enjoyed DJing as we all lounged about in the kitchenette/dining/trundle bedroom that would turn into Lana and my chilly bedroom that evening.  Another beautiful day, Capri comes tomorrow!

South Trip: Pompei

Buona Sera!  It’s a beautiful sunny day in Orvieto, and I am trying to catch up on my posts before we leave for Assisi and Perugia this weekend…Here goes!

Thursday (February 16) was started around 7 am with breakfast at the hotel.  It was good to have lots of fruit to choose from, and I know lots of our group were especially tickled with Nutella To Go packets, and may have pocketed a large amount of them.

Our hotel, the Motel Villa Dei Misteri, was just up the road from the entrance to Pompei.  Following breakfast, our group headed single file down the road, accompanied by lots of stray dogs.  These dogs run happily about here, free to play with tourists and bask in the sun, often in the middle of the street.  Most of them are German Shepherds, a breed that has now grown on me immensely.  There’s a program within the Pompei grounds that allows you to adopt and take home the strays that live there.  These strays are extremely tame, most likely due to all the attention they attract from tourists, and they enjoy following us around, almost as if they were our protective escort.

We met up with our Pompei Tour guide, Pasquale, at the gate.  He was a small Italian man with an interesting accent we couldn’t quite pinpoint.  It was as if he had been taught English from someone from Ireland or Australia.  From the entrance of the park, we could see the walls of the city and the remains of the old necropolis.

We entered the city from the gladiator arena gate, the Quadriportico dei Teatri, and walked into the gladiator’s quarters and training courtyard.

There were two ampitheaters in the complex; the larger devoted to sporting events and the smaller to Music and Theater.

 

 

 

 

 

Walking the streets of Pompei transports you back to Roman times, for there have been no modifications or altercations to the old Roman roads by growth of modern civilization.  Grooves left by wagon wheels can still be seen in the street, showing how old this town was, even prior to its demise.  Also, fun city design fact,

Roman crosswalks consist of raised stepping stones, spaced to allow carriages and wagons to pass uninhibited and stand at least a foot higher than stones of the road.  This allowed for pedestrians to cross, feet unsoiled, and for the streets to be periodically flooded, thus cleaning the filth away from horses and the like.

While the wooden upper stories of the homes are gone and some homes have been reduced to rubble, a surprising amount of these villas have been well preserved.  Our tour guide took us to visit one of the better preserved roman domuses, the Casa del Menandro.  This was the family home of the Roman Emperor Nero’s wife Sabina.  This home had beautiful frescoes everywhere, practically in perfect condition for being over 2000 years old.  You could put your nose up to the wall and see the brushstrokes that the artisans used to create the intricate patterns, paintings, and designs.  One interesting feature of frescoes in these homes was the use of perspective to enlarge the space, with fake windows showing picturesque landscapes and corridors that didn’t exist.

Upon entering the domus, one is standing in a grand atrium, complete with a hole in ceiling (compluvium) to capture water in a square pool (impluvium) at your feet (to be utilized by the household later), and brilliant red frescoes adorning the walls.  Adjacent to this space is a room called he tablinium, which served as a meeting place for the man of the house, a sort of office if you will.  Also along this space are the various bedrooms of the household occupants. Continuing on into the domus, one enters what is called the peristyle, a courtyard garden complete with columns framing the greenery, that has been planted in the roman style.

Walking around this square courtyard, we were able to peek into the private bathhouse of the family (a luxury) as well as the four tricliniums (dining rooms) that are oriented so that one will be pleasant during each of the four seasons.

 

 

While we were there, we came upon the bones of the slaves that were left behind.  When Vesuvius erupted, most of the population had been able to evacuate.  However, to protect their homes and valuables, about 2000 slaves were left behind.  In the Casa di Menandro, the slaves had barricaded themselves in the back room of the house and attempted to escape the ash by breaking several holes in the exterior walls.

I’m glad our tour guide had warned us that the remains were in this home, but even as we were peaking into the different dining rooms, bedrooms, and bathchambers, I peaked over a window and there they were.  It startled me to see their bones, lying in a glass display case not two feet from me.  It set an interesting tone for the trip, for while it was exciting and fascinating to see such a beautiful historic preservation; it seemed extremely callous to allow the bodies of these people to be on display, as part of an exhibition.  These people deserved more respect than this.

Our tour next took us to the public bathhouse, with two separate sections, gender assigned of course.  This building was where much socializing, business, and of course, bathing occurred, quite similar to the modern spa or health club.  These baths consist of three different rooms, a steam room, a hot water room (caldarium), and a cold water room (frigidarium).  All of the heat comes from a hypocaust heating system.  Steam from the furnace was pumped into the space under the bathhouse floors and controlled by slaves, manning the furnace.

 

The second villa we saw is called Casa del Fauno, or House of the Dancing Faun, named for the small statuette of a…wait for it, dancing faun, in the impluvium.  This domus is one of the largest in Pompei and housed beautiful mosaics that are now preserved in the Archeological Museum of Naples.

 

 

 

 

 

It’s remarkable how similar the everyday life of the Pompeian was in comparison to how we live now.  They have main streets, market streets, highways for transportation of goods.  The city even had an entertainment district (please excuse my euphemism, but basically red light), fast food restaurants with marble counters where people could order quick food to go, and public water fountains all throughout the streets.  There were no utility costs for water within the villas, other than the installation and size of the pipeline.  The water came from a storage tank at a higher elevation, and was pumped into these public water fountains for the use of the rest of the city.  The stone gargoyle dispensing the water was a wayfinding device, correlating with the district of the city.

 

 

 

 

 

Again, even a warning from our guide, was not enough to prepare me for the plaster casts of the victims near the marketplace, Macellum.  While Pompei was being excavated, the archeaologists had the foresight to recognize that the airpockets they were finding were the remains of victims who had been buried in the volcanic ash then decomposed, leaving an uncanny imprint.  These pockets were filled with plaster through a small hole, before the surrounding ash was removed.

I am not going to post pictures of the victims, for I was torn on the morality of even taking them.  The thing that was most unnerving to me was not only the agonized expressions their faces and bodies show, but also the portions of bone that are embedded in the plaster, bringing the entire situation into a harsh reality.  These casts are someone’s body, trapped depicting their last breath.  There are portions of the city still buried under the 25 feet of ash that froze Pompei in time.  I have so much respect for archeologists, in their ability to decipher what is earth and what is something precious.

Unfortunately for our tour guide, our group has a strong inclination for taking lots and lots of pictures, and meandering at a pace that was not what he budgeted for in tour time.  I enjoyed keeping up with him though, not only for the preservation of his sanity, but also because he had a wealth of information about the city and you could tell he really knew his stuff.  Ending the tour, he led us across the Forum and out of the site via the sea gate.  Once the water had been 200 feet from the city wall, but the eruption had pushed the sea back at least a mile or so.

Upon leaving Pompei, we were ushered into a hotel next door to get a group style meal, where our options were either pizza or lasagna.  Ten euro seemed rather steep for a pizza and pop, but I suppose I’ve been spoiled on market produce prices for a while.  Also this is a large tourist area, and there wasn’t much else we could sit down and eat for less.

Once back at the hotel, our original plan was to hike Mt. Vesuvius and see the volcanic crater, but the trails were closed due to snow.  Thankfully, with some dexterous schedule acrobatics we got back on the bus and headed to Naples, which we had originally had planned for Friday.  This worked out great, for now we had all of Friday to travel on our own and enjoy the Amalfi coast, as opposed to just the afternoon.

Again I was struck by the stark contrast between Naples and the other cities we’ve visited.  Whether it was just along the train tracks or characteristic of the entire city, I’m unsure, but there was a strong presence of dumps, trash, and shacks and slum style living along the tracks as we pulled in.

Our short visit was spent in the Archeological Museum of Naples.  As we walked around I saw lots of statues, pottery, currency, frescoes, and mosaics, a large portion of which were from Pompei.  They have been taken from the site in order to restore and preserve them.  The mosaics were my favorite portion of the museum, hands down. Their elaborate designs were made with tiny tiles, no larger than pennies.  It definitely put my Girl Scout Crafts from elementary school to shame.

The Pepto Bismol bus headed back to Pompei for the evening.  The group was on our own for dinner, but a large group of us braved walking quite the distance to find a restaurant along roads with cars whizzing by, and the occasional helpful transvestite…That was a surprise for sure.  A strong reason for our difficulty was due to traveling during the tourist off-season, many restaurants and hotels are still closed.

We ate at a very nice seafood restaurant, and with some dexterous ordering was able to get eggplant parmesean and a salad for a decent meal price.  It was slightly embarrassing to see that the television had MTV playing, with the main entertainment being none other than Jersey Shore.  If this is what they think Americans are like, no wonder we get such a bad rap.  It’s ridiculous.

Some of our group found out that seafood is not…well censored in a way as it is in America.  Poor Cammie was surprised with shrimp with the heads on, and was unable to eat it, though Lana was happy to help out.

Thankfully, on our long walk back to the hotel, we were again accompanied by our canine friends.  They were protected by Cammie from cars due to her ushering them onto the pedestrian side of the street and thoroughly entertained by Lana who was content to bound up the hill with them running at her heels.  I was glad to have those big dogs with us, in addition to several tall men among our number, for our walking group of fifteen quickly became a target of attention for Italian boys in cars.  After driving along side us for a long portion of time (and attempting to get us to come party with them), they persistently even did a donut in the middle of the street to follow us back to our hotel.  Even having Gary and Susanne along with us apparently isn’t much of a deterrent.

South Trip: Paestum Stream of Consciousness

The sun warms my skin and cool refreshing air sweeps into my nose and mouth like a cool drink of water

We run about like children playing on a jungle gym

Everything here is green, proving the earth retakes even the grandest of cities, they will one day be reduced to mazes of walls.

Everything is still, and though I can hear the highway, the wind, echoes of laugher, and bird chirping and flapping their wings take precedence

I walk on the walls of what used to be houses, crossing thresholds that now have no doors or gates.

Muddy earth, my footprints will not last like these foundations, but even these stones standing for thousands of years will one day be washed away.

This place seems like a wasteland now, bereft of inhabitants.  I wonder how many people lived here, and if their voices carried across the city the way that ours carry now.  My own voice feels caught, like if I were to make a sound I would shatter glass and these stones would crumble.

Bells join the soundtrack of this place.  I’m going to miss the bells when I go home.  They are ever present throughout the day, marking the passage of time.

The sunlight ignites these cold stones; I wade through grass up to my knees, watching Lana flit like a bird or a ghost ahead of me.  I give her space, for I wish to keep within my own head.  I wish I could take off my shoes and sink my feet into the grass.

It’s funny, for the temples don’t draw me to them, as they did upon my first arrival.  I am drawn to the maze of homes, the stones, and roads that now serve as skeletal fragments of what once was three dimensional.

There are all sorts of trash thrown into some of the old homes.  It saddens me; this is not a park that people just litter in.  This is a skeleton of a city, a ghost at rest, which should be left at peace, respected.  The old hearths within these homes no longer give warmth and life to the houses.

I wonder, will our cities one day be reduced to foundations and rubble as these have?

I find a stone, that probably once was above a door, with the writing: PTIRIENVSPL AGATHO MAGMENBON.  A family name?  I feel the etching, and laugh how this writing takes so little time in comparison to my chicken scratch scribblings.  If people wrote words down then, they must have really had something to say.

I climb stairs that lead to nowhere, and let the curve of the earth guide my feet in my wanderings.

My batteries are about to die. I suppose from here on out I should take mental pictures.  It’s good for that to happen occasionally.  Often times, travelers forget to observe without the lens framing their view.

A third of the city is now buried under the road.  They couldn’t curve it in the name of excavation?  The road just had to be straight I suppose.

When the leaves rustle in the wind, it sounds like the ocean.  The olive tree leaves are turned up, showing white undersides.  I wonder if that’s like at home when a storm is coming.

Many of these old columns are piled like logs in long lines.  Bamboo-like reed squeak together and give off a dry autumnal scent…kind of like how hobby lobby smells in the fall.

The others look so small.  I feel like a rat in a maze almost.

Tiny white flowers speckle the ground like little droplets of snow.

These houses are so small, thick, and dense.  Did the people not have access to sun and light and air as is so abundant now?

Blue yellow black white stone…porous due to time.

I feel as if I’m walking into Pan’s labyrinth.  Golden walls are overgrown with grass, I turned my back and then the moment passed.  The magic had disappeared.

This is my kind of playscape.  If the world is a classroom, then let time be my teacher.

I will return to this place.

South Trip: Paestum

Last week was our South Trip (February 15-18), where we traveled mainly to Campagna region.  Over the course of five days, we visited Paestum, Pompei, Naples (briefly, Amalfi, and the Isle of Capri!  Busy, I know.  Hence the struggle to catch up on blogging.

As per usual, I didn’t get a whole lot of sleep before heading out for our early morning walk to the bus.  The night before, Valentine’s Day, had been spent with having a wonderful Valentine’s Day meal at Zepplin with lots of the K-Staters and a bunch of the Arizona State students.

Walking briskly down the Corso with my and a few other apartment groups, we saw very few people, but the occasional car.  One of which clipped my elbow with its mirror as we passed.  Thankfully the Corso is closed to cars during the majority of the day, for there is simply not enough space for both pedestrians and cars.  Marco had given us some street advice while we were in Rome.  First off, you are to “cross when it’s green and not when it’s red”.  I can handle that.  Then look both ways and “push yourself out into the street and they will stop.  They may scream at you, but they will stop.”  We’ve found with cars in tight places, you really need to just be assertive, there is no need to dive out of their way, but its more of a dance between the pedestrian keeping on their path and the car accommodating and vice versa.

Our Pepto Bismol/ Barbie Pink bus was waiting for us on the edge of town, in the old military complex’s parking lot.  Our professors Gary and Suzanne had asked for a purple bus, just for fun, but as happens here, something got lost in translation.  Large charter buses such as ours are not only prohibited within many of the smaller towns in the country, but also wouldn’t have been able to fit around the turns anyways.

Emerging into the plaza from all different areas of the city, our group of thirty-five all piled into the bus and got settled for the four hour bus ride ahead of us.  Lana and I staked out the back corner of the bus, and immediately utilized the time ahead of us by catching up on sleep.  We woke up to see the Apennine Mountains on the left horizon, and seeing fields and fields of lemons, oranges, and all sorts of other beautiful produce!  Eventually we got our first glimpse of the Mediterranean on the horizon.

Lunch was spent at an Italian gas station/rest stop.  The convenience store was really nice, complete with shelves and shelves of candy, a fresh squeezed juice machine, beverages of every brand, a pizza counter, and a panini counter.  The hard thing to get used to here is the order in which one pays for things.  In bars you order your cappuccino, your cornetti, whatever and then pay after you’ve finished eating them at the counter.  Here you tell the cashier what you want, pay, get your receipt, then go collect your food.

They had these gigantic paninis (the size of my face at least) on ciabatta bread, so I got one with mozzarella, proscuitto, and lettuce on it.  Absolutely delicious.  I think mozzarella is very big down in the south, for we kept seeing mozzarella bufala signs all over the towns we drove through.

It was interesting driving through the towns down here, for we’ve been told that the southern part of Italy is considerably less wealthy than the north.  While the homes and buildings here are not bad in anyway, they definitely seem to be more of utilitarian roots rather than ornamentation.  I do love all the bright, warm colors that they are painted though.  Lots of yellows and salmons.

We arrived at Paestum around 2 pm.  What it is a small town that has preserved the ruins of a Greek town and temple complex that was later converted to a Roman city.  We were given two and half hours to simple explore the ruins.  I wanted some time to myself, so as many others did, I dispersed myself from the group and wandered around the complex grounds.  The site was much larger than I had anticipated.  The best part, excepting the temples, was that we could walk wherever we liked, on or off the path, through the foundations of old houses, climbing over old pillars and standing at the tops of ampitheaters which now serve as terraced grass patches dotted with white flowers.  While I wandered, I recorded my “stream of consciousness” in my sketchbook.  I’ll post a less garbled, coherent later.  It felt good to allow myself to get a bit poetic.  It was hard not to with the sun setting over the ruins.

After these past few weeks of bitter cold and snow in Orvieto, the fifty degree weather and clear, sunny skies was a breath of fresh air, literally.  We laughed later at many of our photos, for though it may not seem so, I swear none of it is photoshopped.  I’m glad we’d been given this time to take in this site at our own pace, for had we been given a shorter limit, I feel I might not have come to the same thoughts or reflections.

The sun was just beginning to set as we piled back onto our Tour Guide Barbie bus, and drove on to Pompei.  Our hotel had stipulated that we eat one meal at the hotel restaurant, since normally it would have been closed during this off season for tourists.  After a multiple course meal of bread, a simple pasta, veal, salad, and cake; we were not only very full, but very sleepy.  Pompei tomorrow!

Freezing in Firenze

Well first off, I apologize for the brief blogging hiatus; it has been a crazy few weeks consisting of lots of traveling and studio deadlines!  I’m going to take you back to a few Fridays ago (Febuary 10^th) to our first field trip to Florence with Marco.  This field trip was focused on getting a good feel for the spirit of Florence and exploring the main attractions of the city.  We will return to Florence this weekend, where along with visiting the paintings and hopefully David in the Galleria del Uffizi; Lana, Cammie, and I hope to see more of the sights over the weekend.

Yet again, we had an early morning date with the bus to get down to the train station.  The previous night we had again been up late listening to a local band play at Bar Duomo.  Lana and I have made friends with two of them, Leo and Nick, so we had promised to come out and support them.  It was fun to hear Italians play and sing classic American Rock.  Come 6:30 AM, after some hurried packing, my bright-eyed roommates and I all hightailed it over to Piazza Cahen to squeeze onto the short bus that runs down to Orvieto Scala and the train station.  After 7 AM we could have taken the Funiculare (cable car), but that would have been cutting it close to our 7:30 train.  I think Lana aptly described our walk to catch the bus as “an excursion into a snow globe…complete with an Italian village, cute light posts, and huge swirling flakes” (www.italitecture.wordpress.com).  In retrospect, I really should always look at weather.com prior to leaving the house, for judging I was planning for rain, not snow, I lacked the foresight to grab my heavier coat to combat the cold.

After our two-hour regionale train ride, stopping at each town along the railway, we arrived in Firenze!  The train station there is much smaller than the one in Rome, which has turned into a mall basically.  But even in Florence, the golden arches beckoned our group as we grabbed breakfast and watched travelers dart around the station.  I’m not nearly as concerned about traveling in Florence as I was in Rome.  The absence of gypsies hanging around was rather comforting.

Marco had requested we meet him outside the Duomo of Florence, officially Santa Maria del Fiore.  Walking down Via Panzani really had me tickled, for I was looking everywhere for any trigger to my memory of the city from ten years ago.  It wasn’t until we walked onto Piazza di San Giovanni that my memory of the Baptistery flooded back.  The intricacies of the white, green, and black marble facades of the Baptistery and the Duomo are so breathtaking.  I did chuckle upon seeing Lorenzo Ghiberti’s bronze Gates of Paradise of the Baptistery, for I remember them being considerably taller.  The doors present there today are copies, for the originals are preserved in the Duomo Museum.

At this point we had met up with Marco, who was quite a sight.  It was highly humorous to see our little Italian history professor, lecturing into his whisper unit microphone in his usual getup of brown corduroys and flannel with the addition of bright yellow gloves gesturing in the air, and a bright blue coat he was wearing like a cape.

While the façade of the Duomo is absolutely breathtaking in all its intricacies, the inside is surprisingly simple.

I  know several of the group wish we had gone to Florence first, for after seeing the grandeur of the Vatican, the Duomo of Florence paled for them.  In my opinion, I found the Duomo to feel much more like a sacred space, with the traditional basilican architecture and the cool colors of white plaster and grey stone.  While the gorgeous mosaics and statues of the Vatican are awe-inspiring, it was almost claustrophobic in that space for me, for it was hard for my eyes to find peace and focus on any central area.  Santa Maria del Fiore has a peaceful beauty to it, and I felt at ease in the dimly lit space.

Inside the Duomo

I was most struck by three elements, the grand clock on the wall opposite the apse, the mosaics of the floor, and the Dome itself.

The clock was especially capturing, for Marco had been explaining to us in class the symbolism of the clock.  The shape, a circle, is the geometric representation of God.  Implying that from one point, the entire universe was generated.  This idea of expansion is an aniconic (abstract, nonhuman) representation of God’s perfection, as opposed to an anthropomorphic representation.  This idea of expansion can be seen in the Chakra (roughly translated as the holy will), the lotus flower leaves and how they open, and many other religions.  The purpose of the clock is not for the purpose of punctuality but to symbolize God as the Master of Time.

The marble floors are not original, for the grey, white, and red geometric patterns were redone in recent years (Though Marco’s definition of recent may be drastically different than ours).  Again the patterns hold strong symbolism, for the circle, representing God, is shown as an octagon; and the square, symbolizing man is shown with rectangles.

Brunelleschi’s dome is truly an engineering masterpiece.  The original cathedral designed by Arnolfo di Cambio, did not include the current dome.  What stands today was Brunelleschi’s second attempt after the first dome collapsed.  It is the largest dome built since the Pantheon.  This beautiful work of architecture was constructed without scaffolding and is self supporting.  There is a large controversy concerning Federico Zuccari’s frescoes that depict the Last Judgement inside the cupola.

There are two schools of thought regarding the preservation of the frescoes, for some are in favor of Brunelleschi’s idea of architecture as the purest form of art, without need for adornment of frescoes; and others who believe that Zuccari’s work should be preserved.  While most likely nothing shall be done, the pro-Brunelleschi school of thought would like to see the frescoes removed in order to accentuate the beauty of the octagonal dome.  The octagon is also highly symbolic, not only as being the polygonal representation of a circle, but also symbolizing the seven days of creation with the addition of the day of the Resurrection.  Side note: the Baptistery of Florence is also an octagonal shape.

Our tour headed back outside, and we ventured down Via Della Studio, which is where the Opera’s workshop is located.  The Opera is the craftsman guild of Florence, which has been present in the city for hundreds of years.  Not only are they responsible for the preservation of their trade, but they are responsible for the restoration and preservation of many of the architectural and artistic treasures of the city.  Their stamp, OPA, can be seen all over Florence, including inscribed in the floor of the Duomo.  Glimpsing into the window of their workshop, I’m sure the craftsman we saw felt a tad bit as if he was in a fishbowl, as thirty students paraded by, peering into the glass.

Next, we stopped into Santa Margherita de’ Cerchi, or commonly known as Dante’s Church, for it is near the Aligherri family home.  This 11^th century church is small, rustic, and unadorned, but has paintings hung outside depicting Dante’s muse, Beatrice Portinari.  Dante Aligherri was the beloved poet of Florence who wrote the Divine Comedy.   Dante’s presence is everywhere, there is even a painting of Dante within the Duomo.  Within the church there was a plaque which indicated the height of the water from the flood of November 4^th, 1966.  While the water was much deeper in other parts of the city, the Arno’s water reached five feet high within this little church.  Many manuscripts and other historical treasures were lost during this flood.

While we didn’t enter the home of the Aligherri family, we did stand in the piazza outside their home, and observed the ruins of their family tower.  The tower, an emblem of cities from the city-state time period, indicated the family power.  While Dante and the Medici family were having a spat, apparently his family’s tower was destroyed.

At this point in the tour, we all were thoroughly numb and shivering, so our walk across the piazza outside the Basilica di Santa Croce was a tad hurried.  Piazza di Santa Croce used to be used for all sorts of sports, normally wrestling, boxing etc, though now this tradition is only commemorated occasionally during the summer, when the stones are covered with dirt to allow for these “games” to occur.

Once inside, we were unable to see the altar, for the restoration process was underway and large amounts of scaffolding blocked our view.  However, it wasn’t the altar that Marco wanted to point out.  While the Fransiscan order of the Church had taken a vow of poverty, it was very common in that time period for large sums of money to be donated to the church in order to essentially buy a tomb within the premises.  The larger the sum, the closer to the altar.  Because of this income, the churches themselves became exceedingly rich, which strongly fueled the ornate nature of the Cathedrals built during this time period.  This was one of the larger schisms between the Latin (Catholic) and Greek (Orthodox) branches of Christianity, for the Orthodox church disapproved of the “Latins” prostituting religion and allowing this secular practice.

Some of the tombs we had the privilege to view consisted of Galileo Galilee, Michelangelo, Alberti, Machiavelli, Rossini, and Dante, though Dante’s tomb was empty.  Many of the tombs placed within the floor of the cathedral now have protective covers or are roped off, due to many of the ornate reliefs having worn away over time.

Our tour with Marco concluded in the Pazzi Chapel, connected to the Basilica.  The chapel was designed by Brunelesschi and is interesting, for instead of being under the artistic control of the Pope, the Pazzi family, rivals of the Medicis, had commissioned Brunelleschi basically to have artistic freedom.  Here you can see the strong influence classical architecture had upon his designs, for the pilasters along the chapel walls are Greek columns.  Another key geometric symbolism within this chapel is the perfect cube within the nave, accompanied with the dome sitting atop it, again symbolizing the union of man and God.

At this point, though interested, mine and my peers’ focus was extremely concentrated on the pain our feet were feeling from the numbing cold of the stone all around us.  No matter of clicking heels or stomping against the ground was going to get the blood moving again.

So once Marco released us, Lana, Katie, Ashley and I took a very brisk pace, retracing our steps in order to find a place with warmth and food.  To our dismay, it was now siesta time (and also not a tourist season) so every trattoria we passed along our trek was closed or the signs pointing the way led us down sketchy looking streets that smelled very strongly of…well not pleasant.  At one point we saw an open door to a postcard/stationary stop and ducked in to warm up (and peruse the store).  Thankfully we made it back to Piazza Firenze, near the Bargello Palace and spotted the Pizzeria we’d passed earlier in the day.

So happy at this point.  Warm place.  Delicious food.  And for Lana and I, no agenda except to catch the last train back to Orvieto.  After enjoying my calzone the size of two of my face.  Katie and Ashley headed out to start their extended weekend in Florence, Pisa, and Lucca.  Lana and I were happy to keep our table, the nice thing about dining in Italy is that you can sit as long as you like.

After sitting, sketching, journaling, and looking at some pictures, Lana entrusted me to mosy our way back to the train station via an art store Marco had pointed out on Via Della Duomo called Zecchie.  Well those of you who know me well know that this probably wasn’t a wise decision.  I got us there, but with a bit of a blustery detour where we found the Piazza del Repubblica and a large Carnevale festival thing going on.

Going inside of Zecchie was like going into any really good art store back home.  You walk in and the smell of oil and paint and who knows what other chemicals we use washed over us as we walked in.  It was fun to look over all the oil painting supplies, though I’ve never learned how.  I bought some watercolor paper and pens and we headed on towards the train station.

After some second guessing of our correct train and departure time, we thankfully ran into Berta and Melissa, who were also catching the 17:12 train.  It’s amazing how reassuring it is to have four instead of two guessing which train is the correct one.  All in all, got home around ten, and was very content dethawing on the futon.

We travel back to Florence tomorrow, well today I suppose…I’m writing this post rather late, but the forecast is for sun and 60’s!!!  I’m very excited.  I shall catch you all up on our trip to the South and tomorrow’s trip very soon!

Ciao and Chow (title courtesy of Lana Keltner)

I have to say eating in Italy has been one of the best parts of this experience.  Not only is the produce here local and inexpensive, it is so delicious.  Unfortunately, due to snow and other inclement weather conditions, the market was closed this past weekend.  But along with a little sun today, the market was back in business today, though many of the vendors’ spaces were empty.

My wonderful roommates and I have been taking turns making group dinners.  Last Wednesday (?), Katie satisfied any craving we had for American food by making burgers, complete with delicious cheese, mushrooms, and homemade fries.  Ashley made us all tacos complete with rice, tortilla chips, and salsa (!!!) last Thursday in honor of Margherita Night at Bar Duomo, our new hangout.  Unfortunately, margheritas in Italy have nothing on Salty Rim.  So to those of you reading this in Manhattan, you’re not missing out in that aspect.

To combat the frigid weather (and Cammie’s cold), Tuesday night I decided to try out one of the recipes I’d saved from ages ago but never had the chance to make.  The recipe is called Curried Carrot Apple Soup!  Impressed?  Well I certainly was.  It basically was just onions, celery, carrots, apples, curry and chicken broth.

Side note, looking for chicken broth was quite the adventure.  Monday night I headed to the supermarket to buy all of the produce and broth for the soup.  Buying produce here is quite the complicated ordeal.  First, one must find the rack that has all of the plastic baggies and gloves, I realized after the fact that I’d probably committed some faux pas by touching the produce with my bare hands.  Once locating these super thin bags, which rip if you’re too vigorous with your separating them, one must attempt to get them open all while trying to get out of the way of the old ladies who have some magical gift at snapping these things open.  Then after selecting the produce you want, put each vegetable in an individual impossible bag, note what number the vegetable is, then plop it on a scale where you must push the button for the corresponding number and it prints you a sticker with the price of the vegetable by weight.  All in all, the system makes sense, but I felt exceedingly in the way as I was trying to watch all the old ladies in their fur coats buzzing around the little produce table at the supermercato.  Produce in hand, partially judging I’d ripped my onion bag, I asked one of the men who work at the store where the chicken broth was, since my search of labels had proven fruitless.  Turns out Brodo di Pollo is in powder form here (So is vanilla as Cammie found out when she made cookies).  My new friend Gabe, who works at Ristorante Zepplin, explained that this is just bouillon (sp?) and is very common.  Who knew.

Well come Tuesday night, I have my laptop open to Google Translate and am proceeding to attempt to decipher how in the world one turns powder into broth.  My mistake, I read that one must pour the entire contents into a half liter to dissolve it.  Well if I had looked closer I might have noticed that entire contents was referring to the included scoopy dude…not the entire packaging.  It would have saved me my emergency trip to the supermercato and purchase of another can of powdered chicken…Oh well.  Now I have the means to make soup for the rest of my life.

Anyways, the soup turned out really well!  I was very proud of myself and promptly emailed my mother and auntie, who are the family soup magicians.  I have yet to have their ability of turning whatever is in the fridge into a delicious soup, but I may have the chance to get there.

Not only are we cooking a lot at home, we’ve been eating like kings when we go out.  Ashley’s birthday dinner on Monday was celebrated at Zepplin, where the manager Vitopaolo offered us a three course meal and all the wine we could drink for 18 euro apiece.  Well of course we, most of our class and our professors, took the deal and were treated to flan (explained by Vitopaolo to be a “fluffy muffin”…ha), lamb ragu pasta, and a mousse that I think tasted like the Lemon girl scout cookies.  Gabe said they were too lemony but personally anything that tastes like Girl Scout Cookies in mousse form is A OK with me.

Happy as a clam here!  (I really want fresh fish, but all the fish at the market is bathing in salt…we’ll see).  More soon!

“I signed up for Orvieto, not MOSCOW!”

On Monday we wrapped up our first project of the semester.  Essentially, Gary and Susanne had split Orvieto into five districts and each apartment group was assigned to map out our their district identifying landmarks, restaurants, stores etc.  Originally the plan was to spread the hour and a half long walking tours throughout the week, but this week it seems we stole Kansas winter and brought it with us to Italy.  As Lana and I have joked, we distinctly remember signing up for study abroad in Orvieto, not Moscow.

Because of this, all of the groups went at once and Monday was spent exploring our beautiful town.  It really is starting to feel like we are settling into life here.  Everyday activities such photo editing, sketching, blogging, and journaling make up lots of our free time.

Another large portion of our apartment’s time has been committed to attempting to figure out the proper setting of the washing machine (lavatrice).  Unfortunately the directions are in Italian with questionable clarity of diagrams.  Our laundry room has roughly the amount of room for one person to slide inside, close the door, and then be able to open the washing machine door enough to stick clothes in.  Because there are no dryers here, and my limited Italian was not proficient enough to understand the directions, we’ve had to literally wring the buckets of water out of our clothes.  This has made getting clean clothes quite the team project, pulling sopping clothes out of the washer, running downstairs to dump them in the sink, then carrying them out to the patio to wring them out.  Three or four days later they may be dry, but unfortunately this implies that dry does not equal warm and fuzzy.  More like slightly frozen and crunchy.  It’s actually rather comical.  Ashley thankfully experimented with the settings and she got the spin cycle to work, so our clothes are now drying much faster.

Classes are going really well, more about that later though.

As the Italian weathermen predicted, Tuesday consisted of trying to stay warm at Centro Studi while we had a cold rain outside.  Thankfully, Cammie had gotten a chance to go hike part of the Rupe before it had started, and as often sounds good after a good hike, despite the rain and cold we all went out for gelato that night.  I found a flavor I really like.  I don’t remember the name of it, but it tastes like black cherry.

Wednesday, we woke up to at least four inches of snow!  Marina, one of our Italian teachers, said that this is more snow than they’ve seen in three years or so and the coldest its been in 27 years.  For a town not accustomed to this weather, they had the main streets plowed pretty fast.  Though snowplows navigating through narrow streets and over cobblestones do make quite a racket at 7 in the morning.

It was absolutely breathtaking to see the Piazza Duomo covered with white snow against the sky’s grey blue backdrop.  Though its super cold, I’m extremely thankful that I had the foresight to pack tights and long johns.  Not only do they really help keep me warm, they also have proven a very successful way to keep my stretched out pants up.  (Another result of not having a dryer, my pants are all bag and sag now).

Wednesdays are when Franca, our wonderful landlord, comes and cleans the house each week leaving us a cake or tart of some sort.  She speaks no English but we’ve become very good at broken Italian and charades.  It’s also extremely lucky that she works at the nearby supermercato.  She saved us from buying bleach detergent when we couldn’t find the right brand of laundry soap.

So of course, with our house spotless and smelling so fresh and so clean, we decided to start what we call Wine Wednesdays!  We invited everyone, said BYOW, and thus a tradition I believe has begun.  We had a really good turnout, especially judging the crummy conditions outside.  Even Gary and Susanne came for a long while.  It was fun to give them a tour of our place and here them discussing the theoretical aspects of how our “space” was designed.  Hilarious.  I also got to extend our studio/seminar discussion regarding the importance of exposure to nature for children and healthful environments whether in the country or city.  Some of the guys brought their guitars so the rest of the evening consisted of music, talking, and friends.

Due to the weather, the market was cancelled on Thursday morning, so Lana and I ventured down the hill to the Co Op (which they pronounce Coo-Pay).  Pretty standard small grocery store, so it was pretty easy to navigate, but reading labels proved a little difficult.  I know Cammie had spent much of her trip down in search of Vanilla and Baking Soda, both of which do not look anything like our packaging.

Our weekend trip plans to Assisi and Perugia were also canceled, so this weekend has been devoted to catching up on sketchbook/journaling and celebrating Ashley’s birthday which is on Monday.

I love it here.  A domani!