OK, so let's see...I left off on Wednesday, and of course it was raining in the morning on Thursday, but by the time class was over the sun had started to peek through the clouds.
I was feeling well enough to go for a run, so I took advantage of the few hours of favorable weather and went down the Arno in the opposite direction that I usually go, which I'm so glad I did. I went down the river a ways and spotted this church at the top of one of the hills, and for some reason I had this incredible urge to go see it for myself. Crossing the incredibly busy streets on the other side of the Arno was no small feat, and sometimes the effort that it takes to simply avoid being turned into roadkill in Italy almost makes me want to avoid running altogether. But I never regret it in the end, for once I get outside the city my runs always take me to places that I'd never discover otherwise. I've gone through vineyards, found secret gardens and pathways that overlook the Tuscan hills, green parks and soccer fields nestled in corners outside the city I'd never go otherwise. Thursday was no exception, I ran up a cobblestone path to the top of a hill where there was a church and a garden, and below it was a huge park with benches and shaded by trees. Living in the city is fun, but sometimes after days of trekking over cobblestone and seeing nothing but buildings I long for the grass and the trees. When I go for a run, my feet always seem to lead me outside the city where I can actually be in nature again, and I always return from my runs with my nature cravings satiated.
Thursday night we had our classmates over for dinner again, this time for a potluck. We made it an international theme, so our friend Massa the cook made some great Japanese food, and everyone else contributed various dishes from their homelands. My roommate Megan had the brilliant idea of making apple crisp (I know the expression is "American as apple pie," but we lacked the necessary ingredients for that analogy, so we had to modify it a bit). It turned out to be absolutely delicious, and it was a big hit with our international amici. When our Brazilian friend Fellipe asked what it was, he misheard Megan's pronunciation of "apple crisp" and started calling it "apple crack," which was probably just a more accurate name seeing as it was just about as addicting. We had planned on going out after dinner so as not to wake up our kind neighbor Anne, but by then it was, as the Italians would say, Sta piovenda a catinelle, or raining buckets, so we enjoyed a very interesting game of charades instead.
Friday afternoon we departed for Roma on the bullet train, so we got there in about an hour and a half. I have mixed feelings about Rome, so I arrived slightly unsure as to what to expect. Rome is an incredible city; it's a history lover's dream and is surely the most exciting, bustling city in Italy. However, Rome can be just as brutal as it is lovely, for it's incredibly crowded and overwhelmingly huge. Reflecting over my weekend now, I'm glad I went to Rome for a second time, but it's like what they say: It's a nice place to visit, but I wouldn't want to live there. After a weekend of the crowds and the metro, I was happy to come back to mia Firenze.
We arrived late Friday afternoon and got to see the Trevi Fountain at night before we met our group for dinner. The Trevi Fountain is beautiful by day, but I would highly recommend seeing it at night; for it's lit up and gives the piazza a warm, romantic glow--very Italy. We met up with the other girls in our group for dinner (girls and one guy I should say--there's 22 girls in our group and one guy. Whether he's incredibly lucky or incredibly unfortunate to be the sole male in a group of traveling, hormonal females is yet to be determined). Chiara took us to a delicious restaurant where we had a huge dinner in a private room downstairs.
What I love the most about Italian food is the variety. In America, you go to a restaurant, order one thing, and get a huge portion of it. You choose between either the ravioli or the steak, the large salad or the sandwich, etc. In Italy, you get a little bit of everything: a few nibbles of antipasti, which usually includes some type of bruschetta, cheeses, and breads, then the primo piatto of some kind of pasta, such as lasagna, ravioli, or penne, and then the secondo of some kind of meat, and always followed by dolce e caffe. You only get a small serving of each, so it's not like you end every meal feeling like you're about to burst. A very small amount of the rich food is sufficient. The Italians eat only the best cheese, the sweetest wine, the richest desserts, so you don't need heaps upon heaps of it to feel satisfied. It's quality, not quantity here, and I think that's the secret as to how the Italians can eat pastas, cheeses, creams, and pastries every day without becoming morbidly obese.
Saturday we got up bright and early to beat the crowds to the Vatican. Armed with umbrellas, we only had to wait in the rain for a few minutes before being allowed inside. (Another phenomenon about the rain in Italy: you can be walking down the street umbrella in hand, and you are still bombarded by the Moroccan guys on the street corners who shove umbrellas in your face saying, Ombrella, ombrella? Tre euro, ombrella? This practice is much more aggressive in Rome, where they nearly shave the skin off your nose by getting so close with their ombrelle. What do they think we're going to do, take another umbrella? Gee mister, it's so nice having my one umbrella in my right hand, I bet it'd be twice as nice to have one for my left hand as well! Sure, I'll take one, and maybe a third in case one breaks!) But as I was saying, we made it to the Vatican before a lot of the crowds had arrived, and I suppose it was good it was raining because I think it deterred the normally huge crowds from making the trek. Without the crowds, it felt a lot less touristy than the first time I went, and I actually felt like I could appreciate each room's artwork without being hustled along like a salmon. We walked through each of the rooms of the musei vaticani and saw the various statues and paintings, but the true climax is La Cappella Sistina, maybe you've heard of it? Each room holds a sign with an arrow-shaped sign guiding you in the direction of the chapel, so you can tell those Swiss guards are really trying to get you pumped. You go through each room thinking, wait, there's painting on the ceiling here...is this it? Is this it? Are we there yet? Are we there yet? But once you finally step into the chapel, you know you've arrived. The expansive walls and ceilings are just covered in gorgeous paintings, and you can truly spend hours in there without looking at the same picture twice. I had already been once before, and seeing it for a second time was no less climactic.
We walked around in St. Peter's square for awhile and then got some pizza and gelato for lunch. Following our trip to the Vatican was a walking tour around Rome where we were taken to the various important landmarks: the Spanish steps, the Trevi Fountain, and the Pantheon. It only rained a little bit during our tour, so that was fortunate. Our Italian tour guide was very nice but also very boring. I noticed that she had this tendency to end about every other word in the "a" sound, which was slightly distracting: "And this building-a that we see now-a was built in honor of the pope-a," etc. So I once again enjoyed people-watching rather than listening to the actual history, but again, that history stuff is Kelly's job.
Later that night I met up with more cugini for dinner. Luigina's sister Ersilia, who's 56, lives in Rome with her husband Bruno and their 20-something son Marco. Just some more names to add to the list; there will be more in two weeks when we meet up with the cugini in Pianello when my mom and grandma and aunts get here, so make sure you have these ones down. Marco very kindly picked me up and drove me out to their house, where Ersilia prepared dinner for all of us. I had a really nice time talking to them, for I hadn't seen Ersilia and Bruno in almost 4 years, and I had never met Marco before. Marco speaks great English and Bruno is taking classes to learn, but we spoke in Italian pretty much the entire night. Bruno really likes to practice his English, so Marco let him try to explain the few Italian phrases I didn't understand. The cooking genes definitely run in the family, for Erislia's dinner was also fantastic--I just don't understand how the genes skipped over me completely, but oh well. I had so much fun seeing them again and actually being able to carry on real conversation. Ersilia even told me how much my Italian had improved: "not like the last time you came here and you couldn't say anything!" We had a good dinner and then they took me out into the city to show me some piazzas I hadn't seen yet. Seeing how it was pouring, this probably wasn't the best idea, but it was still nice to see the piazzas lit up at night, the slick cobblestones glowing from the reflection of the light on the water. They took me to the Pantheon where I met up with my friends, and I was surprised at how sad I felt saying good-bye. I know I haven't spent much time with my Italian cousins, but they really do feel like family. It's comforting to have familiar faces so far from home, and I'm always overwhelmed by how welcomed and loved they make me feel whenever I visit.
That night we went to "Ice Club," a club that is literally made entirely of ice. They give you these huge coats to wear, and you go inside the bar where your drinks are served in an ice glass and there are little igloos you can sit inside to drink. I thought it was really cool, but business wise I don't know if it's a good idea or a bad idea. You can only spend about 45 minutes in there seeing as it's so cold, so thus you don't buy that many drinks, but there are always those who reason that the more you drink the warmer you get, so maybe people end up buying more drinks overall? I'd like to take a look at their books to see how they compare financially to other bars.
The next day we met up with our tour-a guide-a again and she took us to the Colosseum and the the Roman Forum. When we got off the Metro it was like a torrential downpour, but by the time we got to the Colosseum it had stopped raining and the sun actually came out! Thus we were in much better spirits by the end of the second tour, and we got to spend the rest of the afternoon strolling Rome and lounging on the Spanish steps in the sun. We went to a cute little restaurant where they had five dollar pizzas, and we had such a good experience! Our waiter, Giovanni, was friendly and funny, and he brought us a huge bottle of water and a basket of bread for free (yes, you have to pay for these things in Italy) because he said he knows what it's like to be a studente. He had a big smile and when we'd flag him over, he'd pinch our cheeks and go, "Dimmi tutto!" or "tell me everything!" After other patrons paid he'd loudly count the tips they left and comment on whether he thought the tip they'd left was sufficient. When we left, he gave us all big kisses on the cheek and told us to come back soon. Gosh, do I love the Italians.
We got home from Rome on Sunday exhausted, and awoke yesterday to find that the sun was out! We hurried home from school so we could go outside. I went for a long run and met up with my roommates on the steps of the Piazzale Michaelangelo, the place where you can see all of Florence. We sat out there for awhile and bought some champagne to toast to the fact that it actually wasn't raining--a real occasion these past few weeks, let me tell you. It's amazing how the sun can really make everything seem so much better.
Today the rain is back, but it's probably for the better since I have a midterm on Friday and probably need to get to studying. There's no way I'd be able to get anything done if it was sunny. But considering this is our first test in over 5 weeks of not having any homework or quizzes, I guess that it makes sense that it's time to hit the books. Oh, also, I get to start volunteering tonight (I was sick and missed it last week) at the women and children's shelter, so I'm really looking forward to that. I'll meet you all back here in a few days and let you know how it goes!
Lost in Translation Moments, Part III.
1. In class: our teacher asked to come up with 3 words to describe Italians. I volunteered the word appassionato, which means "passionate," and by this, I can assure you, I simply meant that the Italians are really enthusiastic and excited about life. However, in Italian, appassionato means "passionate" in the sexual sense, and apparently I was the only person in the class who was unaware of this. This became clear to me when my teacher exclaimed "Catia!" in horror and the rest of my class burst into laughter. "You know this from experience, Caity?" Julian snickered. I hastily had to explain myself.
2. While walking through rainy Rome with Ersilia, Bruno, and Marco, I pointed to a puddle and asked her how to say it in Italian. She didn't understand what I was pointing at, so I tried to explain to her what I meant and ended up saying, le piscine dell'acqua nella terra, or "the swimming pools of water in the earth." I didn't hear the end of that one for the rest of the evening. "Watch out for the swimming pools!" Ersilia would laugh.
Vi voglio bene,
Caity
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