I eat gelato almost everyday here. It's pretty much a must-have, and how could it not be when they have a flavor for every mood or desire? Gelato shops are everywhere, and the frozen treat is a wonderful break from the heat of summer, but it makes me wonder: what do they do in the winter? I would still eat it.
Another big one here is olive oil. I don't think a meal goes by without olive oil (minus breakfast cereal). It's not just a flavor or a grease or anything like that--it's a vitamin here, an essential nutrient. Breads, pastas, eggs, sandwiches--it's all cooked with olive oil, dipped in olive oil; what a simple garnish! Paige and I bought a large bottle at the market for 6 euro. I am going to miss things like that when I return to America, but I'm certainly enjoying the heck out of them now while I can. Sometimes I wonder if such eating habits will follow me.
Throwing pots is the most beautiful act of material creation. The act is so reminiscent of man's creation and makes me very grateful to know God. When starting a pot, you have to stretch the clay up into a tall, thin ant-hill to get out any air bubbles or imperfections with the clay. After smashing it back into a round blob, you have to center it on the platform by using your whole body to lean into it, cupping the clay in your hands, eyes closed, until you can feel it coming into place. Then comes the hard part. After giving the pot a center, a heart, the sides must be gently but firmly pulled upward to give the piece some height. This takes a while and is pretty rough work, but after that comes the art of shaping it, manipulating soft clay as it quickly passes between your fingers to give the dish a form--a distinct shape of its own. Sometimes, no matter how well you can try to plan it, the pot/vase/whatever becomes its own dish--it works against the potter to do its own thing. Sometimes it can even completely flop, folding in on itself, but all is not lost. These imperfections help to make the pot more beautiful, adding character and room for improvement. Other times, the clay becomes so broken that the imperfections must be flattened and re-shaped, a new creation at the hands of the potter. Thrown, spun, pulled & re-shaped in the most intimate way, I am beautifully and wonderfully made.
I eavesdropped on pigeons the other day. Typical Italians: boys chasing girls. Sometimes, I honestly think that I am crazy. They provided amusing entertainment, though.
I met my first Italian outside of school the other day. I was walking to meet friends, and he stopped me on the street and asked me (in Italian) how to find some street that I had never heard of. He had just moved to Florence from Rome and said that it was in Roman tradition to treat a friend to a glass of nice wine. Feeling adventurous after a long day of breaking all of my decent pots in Ceramics, I agreed. We had a glass along with some small talk. It was great practice for Italian because our conversation was probably 50/50 Italian and English. My lack of knowledge for the Italian language should be an indicator here of how small the talk was. I learned that Italians have a very different view of friendship--he wanted to hold my hand while we walked down the street! I said, "No, no. Friends don't do that in America." Maybe they do, but definitely not after they just met! His name was Marco, and he sent me a message over the weekend. I didn't respond because I am simply too busy this week, and I kind of don't want to hang out with him again. I thought that I wanted to make Italian friends, but it felt weird.
Speaking of keeping busy, a part of my plans for this week is to have a jam session with Paul. He e-mailed me at the tail-end of last week, so we are going to try to make some music this week. Hopefully it will work out. More music for the week: we are going to a ballet tomorrow. It's Don Quixote (except spelled in Russian?), and it's taking place at the Boboli Gardens, which are supposed to be beautiful! I haven't been there yet, but I bought a Friends of the Uffizi pass for the museums and am hoping to start hitting some up tomorrow!
I have realized recently that we are learning Italian in such a peculiar way. We learned terms and grammar and everything, but it's not compared to English. It's not so much ____ means _____. It's more of "this is how we do things in Italian; don't ask why; just do it." I think it has made me very confused while helping me to pick up on it quickly. What a wonderful contradiction!
Hmm. I have some catching up to do. On Thursday, I went to volunteer at the Museo Stibbert gardens. They were beautiful! It was great to get to help clean them up a bit for the public. We did simple tasks like sweeping the stairs or pulling weeds.
In the evening, we went to the jazz concert--Raphael Gualazza. It was great, but a few of his songs were pretty weird where he did this Louis Armstrong-like grumbling thing. Most of the songs were in English, which was surprising, although, I have to admit: the first song was in Italian,and I had momentarily forgotten where we were and was surprised when I couldn't understand him. Speaking of where we were, the concert was at a historical Roman garden in Fiesole where we could see the entire city of Florence (in a much smaller perspective than from Piazelle Michelangelo). During the show, the musician did one cover, and it was "Don't Stop" by Fleetwood Mac. I was so excited and sang every word. The API kids around me turned and gawked, "You know one of his songs?!" I was shocked, "Nooooo...it's Fleetwood Mac!" What a shame!
Ugh. Where do I even begin with this weekend?! It was absolute paradise. I fear that I may have to settle for a brief overview. On Friday, we made the 7, turned 8, hour bus ride to Sorrento. Upon arriving, we went to a "pizza tasting" where we thought that we would get a bite or two of a few different kinds of pizza. No. Not even close. They gave us these huge pieces of four different kinds of pizza! Granted, they were delicious, and we ate all of it, but we were so full! But that's not all. After filling us to the brim with pizza, they served us a lemoncello cake with dark dark espresso. I'm not a coffee person, but it's a Sorrentino specialty, to I chugged it down anyways. Sometimes I am amazed by how good everything tastes here. This was a nice stop because we got to try all of the southern specialties in one stop: pizza, lemoncello, espresso. Check.
After checking into our hotel, a group of us took a bus to Positano. Located on a huge hill with literally zig-zagged roads along a high cliff, the bus ride was exhilarating. The bus driver had to drop us off because the streets become very narrow, and some of them stop being streets and simply turn into stairs. After trekking probably a mile down stairs (literally), all of our legs were shaking. I don't think that we were expecting that many steps! For some reason, it seemed better on the walk up though. Nevertheless, we went down and enjoyed the beach and the shops. I could not believe how clear the water was! I have never seen anything like it in a body of water before; I'm so used to our dirty lakes in America. While waiting for the bus, we watched the moon rise over the hill-country. Illuminating the colorful homes and glowing gold over the water, the sight felt unreal, like we were sitting in a postcard.
But that wasn't the end of it. The next day in Capri was the same way: one surrealistic view after another. We took a boat tour around the island before going out on our own to venture the island. Yes, island! What a new and wonderful experience for me. We hiked up the island some until we found a restaurant with a beautiful view of the ocean. I had gnocchi alla sorrentino which was the specialty gnocchi for the area. I'm pretty sure that gnocchi is my new favorite food. On the way back down the hill, we stopped at a little shop where I had the best popsicle of my life. That sounds insane, but it was AMAZING. It was lemon with cream inside, and the stick was a piece of licorice! Mmmm!
After lunch, a group of us went back down to the dock where we rented a boat with a driver who took us out to the White Grotto to swim. This was probably the most surreal part of Capri--swimming by these beautiful white rocks in the clear Gulf of Naples. We all took fun pictures jumping off the boat. On the way back, the boat driver let each of us a drive the boat for a bit!
Sunday was my childhood dream come-true: Pompeii. We did a two-hour walking tour of the city. Walking through and knowing that the town has been still since 79 A.D. is so difficult to put into perspective. Seeing Vesuvius lurk over the town is awe-inspiring, especially knowing that the mountain is so much smaller than it was before the eruption, but it's still huge! The town was surprisingly large (at least of what has been uncovered), but most of it still lies underground.
The tour itself was actually a little disappointing because the guide focused on the sexual side of the city. We toured a brothel with fresco "menus" painted on the walls. There were also a lot of penis sculptures on the streets and sides of buildings serving as arrows to the brothels. Even though it was weird, it was still interesting, especially when put into perspective with the time period. The other students were pretty immature about it though, which was frustrating. Even the souvenir shops make a joke out of it, selling little penis sculptures and what not. Maybe I was just grumpy from the heat, but I was definitely more interested in the fact that these things were articles of art from nearly 2,000 years ago.
Nevertheless, it was all amazing to finally see in-person after years of dreaming about this once lost city. The temple there was amazing with a beautiful bronze statue. Sure, the city is in shambles, especially after the earthquake in 62 A.D. that they were still rebuilding from when Vesuvius erupted, but for 2,000 years old, it's so well-preserved! I was in awe.
At the site, there was a storehouse of artifacts that we got to see. Inside were hundreds of pots, many very well intact. Also, there were some bodies, plaster-cast with the real bones inside. I cried upon the sight of them--frozen in time from the moment of their last breath. It wasn't like anything I have ever seen. You go to museums and you see mummies, and they're a wonder to view, but to see these people, stuck in motion, going about life, is unbelievable. The one body was sitting up with his knees to his chest, cover is hands over his face and mouth, trying to breath amongst the debris. It was very intense. Also in the storehouse were statues, boxes (like literal treasure chests), and an anchor. I am slightly in love with anchors recently, and this one was so simply beautiful. We really did get to see a lot, but two hours just wasn't enough. Someday, I will go back.
This morning, I went to a local school to volunteer at a summer camp teaching English. I guess there was a mis-communication somewhere because I went, thinking that I would be helping out with lessons and games and what not like at a Vacation Bible School sort of thing. No. They expected me to come prepared with an hour's worth of a literal English lesson. I had nothing! The ages of the children ranged from 6 to 12, and their knowledge of English varied greatly. In 40 minutes, I threw together a half-hour lesson on the alphabet, numbers, colors, days of the week and the months. The older ones already knew most of this and looked bored, but it seemed like the younger ones were interested to learn and were picking up on it. For the days the days of the week and the months, I taught them the songs that we do at the daycare at home. The caught on quickly which was nice. Even though it was very difficult and frustrating because I am not fluent in Italian, it was a good experience. Next week, the director asked me to add a storybook reading and some children's music to my lesson in addition to the things that we did this week. I felt like they didn't want me there, though, especially since I am not fluent in Italian. We'll see what happens. I think that I will talk to Monica about it and decide from there if I will actually go back; it just seemed like I was more in the way.
As I enter this busy week, I am overwhelmed with schoolwork, activities, and everything that Italy has to offer. Nevertheless, I am doing my best that I can and enjoying every minute of being here. Yet, I have a favor to ask. My cousin (more like brother), Derek, is in the hospital at home. It's been hard for me to be here and not with him, and I'm just asking for prayers over the entire situation--prayers that he can come home soon, prayers that we can stay sane being away from each other, prayers that the situation can remain calm until I come home. Much appreciated.
Blessings.
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