I can't believe that I've been here so long already. As I am now in the final full week of being in Rome, I am starting to realize just how much I not only will miss this place, but also how much I miss everyone back home. It's a very strange feeling of longing for two different things that in every sense go against each other. I love the friends I have made here. Becoming so close to so many people this quickly has given me not only comfort as I have been away from my home, but also a renewed faith in humanity. It is sometimes tempting to listen to the people who think and see only the darker parts of the world and the societies within it, but then there are these wonderful rays of light that peak out from the clouds and you suddenly realize that life is so full of surprises that settling even for a moment is just foolish.
This week I am planning on some pretty awesome travel. Tuesday I head out again for Naples to take a lesson with one of the lead tenors at the Teatro di San Carlo which of course should be amazing even if I don't sing my best. Two days later I train my way all the way over to the opposite end of the country for the lovely water world of Venice. Two days spent soaking up possibly the most romantic city in Italy. It should certainly be nothing less than fantastic. Then instead of coming straight back to Rome before I get on a plane like I had intended, I think I will be taking a slight detour to Florence to get just a little taste of Tuscany and find out for myself why everyone says I should go there. Then it's back to Rome for some last minute time with my amazing group of newly bonded friends and amazing, all too soon and yet not soon enough, I'm home, two months later, elated, different, matured in ways I didn't realize were possible, and ready for more life.
I think about the coming year with a mixed feeling of apprehension, excitement, and determination. Some how I have come to my final year of college. Where the last three years went, I will perhaps never know. But in any case, here I am, getting ready for the final turn in the slide, the last lap around the ring, the turning point before the biggest jump I have taken. It will be a year of some of my hardest classes, the biggest auditions of my life, new opportunities, new exploration, stumbles, falls, triumphs, and in the end a new me. Then the next chapter starts and before I know it I will be wondering where this year went. Whatever it comes to in the end, I will take in stride and keep in mind that it is simply where I am meant to be at that moment, where ever that is.
Sunday, June 28, 2009
Sunday, June 21, 2009
When in Rome...
...act like a Roman.
In one day I found out quite a few things:
- You really can fight your way out of passing out when you realize that if you did indeed pass out, you would fall into an ant hole. Not ok.
- Breaking your headphones upon taking the first step of your run is maybe the worst thing since... I don't even know.
- It is important to keep in mind that the Euro is not equal to the dollar and what may seem like a bargain is simply your mind playing tricks on you and forgetting that you're not looking at a price system based on the US dollar.
- If it's not food related, EVERYTHING is more expensive here.
- You can get back serious about preparing for a toga party.
- Watching Asians fight in the Metro with very thick accents but speaking in English is really quite hilarious.
- Getting winked at by an old man then not 5 minutes later getting winked at by an old woman is not and never will be ok.
- Sometimes sitting on the subway and just watching people is the best entertainment going.
- Screw Edward Cullen, Jamie Fraser is the greatest thing since sliced bread.
- You really can find disgusting wine in Italy, and yet still find yourself drinking it.
- Latin is extremely hard to read when in a very strange font, kneeling in front of people who can actually speak Latin who are yelling at you every time you mess up, having no light but two torches and really having to pee.
- The more you drink the less toga you want to wear.
- Wine really stings when it's being poured into your eye.
- It's all fun and games until you make really drunk people who are already tripping over their togas run through an obstacle course... then it's the best thing ever.
- Pistachios really hurt your teeth when you try to eat them without taking off the shell.
- Waking up with extremely painful and very dark bruises that you don't remember having the night before are really quite annoying.
- Being the only one who was sober the night before makes looking at the other people in the morning HILARIOUS.
- A whole pot of espresso, milk, biscotti, listening to the rain and having an internal debate over whether or not Lady Gaga could wear any less clothing and not cause a scandal in the Middle East makes for a lovely breakfast.
- Pouring hot espresso over gelato is the best idea maybe ever.
In one day I found out quite a few things:
- You really can fight your way out of passing out when you realize that if you did indeed pass out, you would fall into an ant hole. Not ok.
- Breaking your headphones upon taking the first step of your run is maybe the worst thing since... I don't even know.
- It is important to keep in mind that the Euro is not equal to the dollar and what may seem like a bargain is simply your mind playing tricks on you and forgetting that you're not looking at a price system based on the US dollar.
- If it's not food related, EVERYTHING is more expensive here.
- You can get back serious about preparing for a toga party.
- Watching Asians fight in the Metro with very thick accents but speaking in English is really quite hilarious.
- Getting winked at by an old man then not 5 minutes later getting winked at by an old woman is not and never will be ok.
- Sometimes sitting on the subway and just watching people is the best entertainment going.
- Screw Edward Cullen, Jamie Fraser is the greatest thing since sliced bread.
- You really can find disgusting wine in Italy, and yet still find yourself drinking it.
- Latin is extremely hard to read when in a very strange font, kneeling in front of people who can actually speak Latin who are yelling at you every time you mess up, having no light but two torches and really having to pee.
- The more you drink the less toga you want to wear.
- Wine really stings when it's being poured into your eye.
- It's all fun and games until you make really drunk people who are already tripping over their togas run through an obstacle course... then it's the best thing ever.
- Pistachios really hurt your teeth when you try to eat them without taking off the shell.
- Waking up with extremely painful and very dark bruises that you don't remember having the night before are really quite annoying.
- Being the only one who was sober the night before makes looking at the other people in the morning HILARIOUS.
- A whole pot of espresso, milk, biscotti, listening to the rain and having an internal debate over whether or not Lady Gaga could wear any less clothing and not cause a scandal in the Middle East makes for a lovely breakfast.
- Pouring hot espresso over gelato is the best idea maybe ever.
Monday, June 15, 2009
Realization
It's kind of late and I have class early in the morning which prevents me from writing an actual post, but I will you leave you with a realization that I came to today whilst walking around the fabulous and very daunting streets of Piazza Spagna: If I ever want to even think about indulging in the shoe fetish that I have come to realize that I have while drooling over display windows with labels such as Prada (shoes to die for), Diesel (delicious pockets of leather), and D&G (*shiver of ecstasy*), I have picked the wrong major. Ah well, gotta do what you love, eh?
That is all.
That is all.
Sunday, June 14, 2009
Portal to another world
Italy I have come to find, is a very hot place. Yes, we would all like to think of nothing ill about Italy, save perhaps unsavory thoughts of Signore Berlusconi or perhaps a stray thought of how they only won the last World Cup because the Mafia made it happen... but alas, aside from abundant crime and perhaps "false governments" that are mere toys and facades of the underground (or not so underground) crime organizations that lie beneath the surface, there is one thing that puts a slight blemish on the bronze skinned, well lubricated through years of olive oil usage and poor liver function due to the more mature form of the common fruit known as the grape. Heat. Dear God! I have to wonder at how JP II lasted so long here even with his Popemobile. Shouldn't he have suffered from heat stroke at least as many times as Cheney had heart attacks?
Ok, ok I'll stop complaining at least long enough to take a sip of wine, a bite of freshly baked bread dipped in olive oil and... ok go ahead and twist my arm, a nice scoop of gelato... or 3. Despite the heat, it's quite lovely here in the hometown of one of the world's former great empires. Friday made for an incredibly uneventful day as I spent most of it helping my friend prepare for the last leg of their English Certificate No. 1 exam. The spoken portion was last weekend and this Saturday was the written and reading comprehension section which lasts a mere six hours. Poor little buggers... several incomprehensible reading passages, a bucket load of broken rules, and plenty of misplaced prepositions later, the exam proved to be much harder than they had bargained for. Ah well...
Instead of busting my head over the table and wanting to thrust my No. 2 Taiconderoga pencil through my eye, I spent the majority of Saturday morning and early afternoon with two of my Villa buddies and three of the UD students from the group that comes to Villa that I had met at my surprise birthday party. Amazingly enough, they are actually very nice guys and even more amazingly, I had no qualms with spending time with them. What was even better is that regularly, I got to play interpreter... and I actually was pretty good at it. I did not realize until now just how much I have improved. WOO!!
We started the day by going to a very famous outdoor market where the vendors only speak Roman dialect (so having Gabriele there who not only is a Roman but also frequents this market was quite helpful) and the name of the game is bargaining. They are serious about it to. So seriously in fact that several times I had to drag one of my American comrades along with me as he was being physically pulled by someone trying to seduce him into their "store." I also came to realize that with all the merchandise in this vast market, you were never really sure what was real or fake, legit or stolen. It was a trip. I decided to buy an Armani zip up hoodie (which I am quite sure is fake) just because fighting with the lady over the price was one of the most hilarious and altogether frightening experiences of my life. She did not even come to my shoulder and even so, I think she probably could have taken me out... or had one of her "friends" do it for her.
After grabbing some lunch, gelato and then walking through Piazza del Popolo and seeing the lovely festival being thrown by none other than everyone's #1 guy, Berlusconi and even getting free merchandise from one of my brother's favorite people, we headed for home sun burnt, dehydrated, and happy. A little later after trying to recoup my water levels, I headed back out to the city with Antonio and Paolo who had more of the city to show me which of course comes with boat loads of history. Being that it was late in the day on a Saturday, the center of the city was packed and trying to get around proved to be quite difficult. It was obviously annoying my two companions, but when you're not the one driving, watching the faces of other drivers is quite entertaining. Watching people fight and swear at each other is far more exciting in Italian... and slightly scarier as you aren't quite sure they will contain their fight to just the two of them.
As we got closer to the center Antonio suddenly remembered that today was the National Gay Pride Parade which was being held in Rome (which apparently had caused quite a stir... gee, I wonder why), but he did not even have to say it as it was already quite apparent. More than once I questioned whether the person walking next to me was of a male or female persuasion and I suddenly became even more aware of the very tight t-shirt I was wearing... oh goodness. We ended up going to parts of the city that I had not yet visited. The best was when we technically left Italy altogether and went to the state of Malta (did you know that the Vatican is not the only place in Rome that can be called its own state?). In this tiny little... um... state? County? Which is all enclosed behind old stone walls which hold beautiful gardens and cobblestone streets, there is a huge set of double steal doors. They do not look like much but on the left door there is a small hole no bigger than the diameter of a quarter. When you look through this hall you find yourself looking down a very long corridor of vines which are in full bloom. If you look a little longer and let your eyes adjust (the sun had set and was now casting a faint glow over the city) you realize that at the end of the vine covered alley there is a shape. The dome of Saint Peter's, across the river. A portal to another world. I could not decide if it was real as the sight of it was just to amazing, even when it could only be viewed through this frustratingly tiny hole. We spent the rest of the night walking the city and talking about art. It just keeps getting better.
Ok, ok I'll stop complaining at least long enough to take a sip of wine, a bite of freshly baked bread dipped in olive oil and... ok go ahead and twist my arm, a nice scoop of gelato... or 3. Despite the heat, it's quite lovely here in the hometown of one of the world's former great empires. Friday made for an incredibly uneventful day as I spent most of it helping my friend prepare for the last leg of their English Certificate No. 1 exam. The spoken portion was last weekend and this Saturday was the written and reading comprehension section which lasts a mere six hours. Poor little buggers... several incomprehensible reading passages, a bucket load of broken rules, and plenty of misplaced prepositions later, the exam proved to be much harder than they had bargained for. Ah well...
Instead of busting my head over the table and wanting to thrust my No. 2 Taiconderoga pencil through my eye, I spent the majority of Saturday morning and early afternoon with two of my Villa buddies and three of the UD students from the group that comes to Villa that I had met at my surprise birthday party. Amazingly enough, they are actually very nice guys and even more amazingly, I had no qualms with spending time with them. What was even better is that regularly, I got to play interpreter... and I actually was pretty good at it. I did not realize until now just how much I have improved. WOO!!
We started the day by going to a very famous outdoor market where the vendors only speak Roman dialect (so having Gabriele there who not only is a Roman but also frequents this market was quite helpful) and the name of the game is bargaining. They are serious about it to. So seriously in fact that several times I had to drag one of my American comrades along with me as he was being physically pulled by someone trying to seduce him into their "store." I also came to realize that with all the merchandise in this vast market, you were never really sure what was real or fake, legit or stolen. It was a trip. I decided to buy an Armani zip up hoodie (which I am quite sure is fake) just because fighting with the lady over the price was one of the most hilarious and altogether frightening experiences of my life. She did not even come to my shoulder and even so, I think she probably could have taken me out... or had one of her "friends" do it for her.
After grabbing some lunch, gelato and then walking through Piazza del Popolo and seeing the lovely festival being thrown by none other than everyone's #1 guy, Berlusconi and even getting free merchandise from one of my brother's favorite people, we headed for home sun burnt, dehydrated, and happy. A little later after trying to recoup my water levels, I headed back out to the city with Antonio and Paolo who had more of the city to show me which of course comes with boat loads of history. Being that it was late in the day on a Saturday, the center of the city was packed and trying to get around proved to be quite difficult. It was obviously annoying my two companions, but when you're not the one driving, watching the faces of other drivers is quite entertaining. Watching people fight and swear at each other is far more exciting in Italian... and slightly scarier as you aren't quite sure they will contain their fight to just the two of them.
As we got closer to the center Antonio suddenly remembered that today was the National Gay Pride Parade which was being held in Rome (which apparently had caused quite a stir... gee, I wonder why), but he did not even have to say it as it was already quite apparent. More than once I questioned whether the person walking next to me was of a male or female persuasion and I suddenly became even more aware of the very tight t-shirt I was wearing... oh goodness. We ended up going to parts of the city that I had not yet visited. The best was when we technically left Italy altogether and went to the state of Malta (did you know that the Vatican is not the only place in Rome that can be called its own state?). In this tiny little... um... state? County? Which is all enclosed behind old stone walls which hold beautiful gardens and cobblestone streets, there is a huge set of double steal doors. They do not look like much but on the left door there is a small hole no bigger than the diameter of a quarter. When you look through this hall you find yourself looking down a very long corridor of vines which are in full bloom. If you look a little longer and let your eyes adjust (the sun had set and was now casting a faint glow over the city) you realize that at the end of the vine covered alley there is a shape. The dome of Saint Peter's, across the river. A portal to another world. I could not decide if it was real as the sight of it was just to amazing, even when it could only be viewed through this frustratingly tiny hole. We spent the rest of the night walking the city and talking about art. It just keeps getting better.
Thursday, June 11, 2009
Realizations
In coming off one of the greatest weekends I have spent in Italy, it has been a week of many realizations and more thought than one person should normally have in the course of just four days.
Monday rolled around and in no sort of surprise did I find that even still, after many hours since my last meal, I still was not hungry. I barely even had an appetite for lunch. It was mostly spent recouping from the weekend, reading, and updating my blog and journal. For some reason, although I went to bed completely exhausted, I woke up Tuesday morning at 5 and rather than lay in bed and fight for sleep, I decided to go for a run in the woods. I beat the sun in rising and stepped out from the door and noticed to my great surprise that it was chilly and there was a mist over everything. It was not what you might call fog, but rather a simple veil over the ground as if to remind me that is was still morning. I picked up speed and soon I was darting between trees waiting for the sun to kiss my skin and warm me somewhat.
I reached the tree line and ran along side the field that lies beyond the wood and looked out at the expanse of Rome and the hills behind it. The sun was beginning to creep slowly over the lump of bluish gray earth in the distance, casting a golden glow on the dome of St. Peter's. Finally, to my relief, sunlight began spilling over the ground climbing up my body and bathing me in light and warmth and for a moment, it was as if everything stood still.
I had woken up with Rome. I watched the sun stretch its golden fingers over the hills transforming their colors, turning the long and dry grass in the field a resilient gold and finally illuminating the city to start the day. I stopped running. Rather than rush around in this glory, I simply walked in the grass letting the dew left over from the cool evening brush against my ankles. It made for a good day and I found myself smiling for the rest of the day.
Wednesday evening I finally (much to my dismay) finished "The Mists of Avalon." As I closed the back cover I, for the first time on my journey, sobbed. I sobbed really hard as if to cry all the tears that I had been wanting to cry from missing my family, the incredible surprise of my birthday, for the incredible beauty of this city and country and of course, because the story was over. As I finally dried my tears, I was amazed at that I felt better. From what? I have no idea; but it felt good.
I love Rome.
Monday rolled around and in no sort of surprise did I find that even still, after many hours since my last meal, I still was not hungry. I barely even had an appetite for lunch. It was mostly spent recouping from the weekend, reading, and updating my blog and journal. For some reason, although I went to bed completely exhausted, I woke up Tuesday morning at 5 and rather than lay in bed and fight for sleep, I decided to go for a run in the woods. I beat the sun in rising and stepped out from the door and noticed to my great surprise that it was chilly and there was a mist over everything. It was not what you might call fog, but rather a simple veil over the ground as if to remind me that is was still morning. I picked up speed and soon I was darting between trees waiting for the sun to kiss my skin and warm me somewhat.
I reached the tree line and ran along side the field that lies beyond the wood and looked out at the expanse of Rome and the hills behind it. The sun was beginning to creep slowly over the lump of bluish gray earth in the distance, casting a golden glow on the dome of St. Peter's. Finally, to my relief, sunlight began spilling over the ground climbing up my body and bathing me in light and warmth and for a moment, it was as if everything stood still.
I had woken up with Rome. I watched the sun stretch its golden fingers over the hills transforming their colors, turning the long and dry grass in the field a resilient gold and finally illuminating the city to start the day. I stopped running. Rather than rush around in this glory, I simply walked in the grass letting the dew left over from the cool evening brush against my ankles. It made for a good day and I found myself smiling for the rest of the day.
Wednesday evening I finally (much to my dismay) finished "The Mists of Avalon." As I closed the back cover I, for the first time on my journey, sobbed. I sobbed really hard as if to cry all the tears that I had been wanting to cry from missing my family, the incredible surprise of my birthday, for the incredible beauty of this city and country and of course, because the story was over. As I finally dried my tears, I was amazed at that I felt better. From what? I have no idea; but it felt good.
I love Rome.
Monday, June 8, 2009
A Napolitan Weekend
I swear there is no other country on earth that has the ability to continue to become more and more beautiful each time I open my eyes like Italy does. Each time I explore some new part, even those not so far outside of Rome, I am just amazed at how blissfully beautiful this country is. This weekend was the election for the European Congress so most everyone at Villa went back to their homes to be able to vote. I was invited to stay at my friend Gennaro’s house just outside of Napoli with his family along with another Villa student Matteo. Matteo and I left early Friday morning and met up with Gennaro in Napoli. Knowing that I am a singer, Gennaro somehow found out that his father is friends with a tenor who sings at the Teatro di San Carlo which is probably the second most famous opera house in Italy, right behind La Scala. So what did I do first in Napoli? Oh yes, that’s right, toured the entire opera house with one of their leading tenors and then when he found out that I’m a singer, told me that he would be happy to give me a lesson sometime while I’m still in Italy. WHAT?! Yes, we are trying to figure out another time for me to go to Napoli before I head for home. It was a very good start to what was to become an amazing weekend.
After the opera house we didn’t stay in Napoli long and headed for Gennaro’s house. Before getting on the train however Gennaro of course wanted me to try some of the famous Napolitan pizza. Yeah, that whole argument in the States about whether New York pizza is better than Chicago style and vice versa… yeah, that can just stop because neither come even sort of close to this. First off this pizza had to be at least 13-15 inches in diameter and the lady just folded it up into a pocket and handed it to me in a piece of wax paper. It was also just one Euro. I was stuffed and had spend probably 5 times less what I would have spent even on a street vendor in NYC… and of course it was far far better.
When we reached casa di Gennaro, his mother of course did not know we had just had pizza and had prepared a lovely meal of homemade gnocchi for us. Surely I could not eat another bite? But to be polite and I tried a gnocchi. Suddenly I was wondering who had stolen my gnocchi as I was staring down at a now empty plate. Oh wait, no one stole my gnocchi… I hade eaten it. Then ate buffala mozzarella… and prosciutto… and salad… and fruit. This is when I remembered Antonio (who is also Napolitan) telling me that Napolitan mothers are notorious for worrying that their children don’t eat enough. Well, no worries here because I was seriously on the verge of exploding.
We decided to go for a drive up Mount Vesuvius to see the mountain face and to get a better look at the sea (which could easily be seen just from Gennaro’s balcony as it was less than 500 yards away). The sun was high in the sky but since we were next to the sea a salty breeze was constantly keeping the worst of the heat off us. The mountain was beautiful and as we climbed higher and higher the sea continued to become more vast and eventually we could see the entire Napolitan gulf from Napoli to Sorrento. After the drive we went to see the excavation sight of the city that was buried (along with Pompei and all the other surrounding cities) by lava in the last volcanic eruption. It was really kind of amazing. The city was in a huge pit and I wondered why it was surrounded by all this land and actually below the modern city. Then I realized that the modern city is built on top of nearly 200 yards of lava. The old city used to sit right against the sea. Now there is nearly another 300 yards from the city to the sea because the lava piled so high that it buried the city and stretched out that much further into the tide. Really incredible and quite frightening at the same time as the huge mountain towered above us the whole time.
After walking around the city and then the beach for a while and taking some amazing pictures of ruins and sunsets, we went back to the house… for more food. No. There could not possibly be more room in my body for more food. But since we were guests, Gennaro had requested that his mother made the specialty dish of Napoli which is spaghetti with clams. Of course they were clams that she had bought that day from fisherman who had caught them that morning with tomatoes that had been picked probably in the last couple days if not that day and then after the pasta there was octopus salad with boiled potatoes (sounds gross but was quite amazing and didn’t taste at all what I had expected) and then there was an entire pan of steamed mussels (by far the best I’ve ever had) and then gelato and of course every course was served with tons of wine. I thought I would die and never be able to digest again. I went to bed stuffed like a calzone and fought hard to keep it all down.
The next day we headed back to Napoli and met up with Antonio. Our first stop was at the top of the city (Napoli is built on a hill) to a very old palace and monastery that over looks the entire gulf. It was of course, like every other palace and museum in Italy, chocked full of art and history. It was beautifully decorated and painted with amazing frescos that seemed to cover every inch of every wall and ceiling. We went back into the city and went to the Museum of Archeology which had many exhibits of specimens that had been collected from excavation sights all around Vesuvius from the explosion. There was also a room that was entirely dedicated to the penis. Yes the male sexual organ in all kinds of fashion from statues, to painting, to hanging ornaments, to furniture, sculptures, demons made out of penises, people made out of penises, in other words “Long live the penis.” In the top floor there was a huge ballroom that was easily as big as if not bigger than a football field. Of course the entire ceiling was one huge fresco. If there is one thing in Italy that is everywhere and yet I never seem to tire of it, it is the ceilings of these old castles and villas and museums that are covered in paintings that are completely life like and yet are bigger than anything we have in America. I just can’t imagine the time it must take and the detail that goes into such work. Really amazing.
After walking until our feet hurt, we got some more Napolitan pizza (except this time I watched them pull it out of the oven) and ate it under the statue of Dante. There is a street that runs along Piazza Dante (yes named for Dante himself) that is nothing but book stores. Matteo and Antonio being art history majors of course went rampant and went on a book buying spree. After walking around for a while we decided it was time for me to try the coffee of Napoli… along with a sfogliatella which is a famous Napolitan pastry that is nothing but flaky crust and sweetened ricotta in the middle. Of course it was sinful and delicious.
We departed from Antonio and went back to Gennaro’s for a small break and then headed out again for Sorrento. We got there just in time to watch the sun set over the gulf and I am positive that I have never seen the sun in a more beautiful form. Toward the end the globe honestly looked like it was melting into the rim of the ocean, pouring itself into the pinkish blue of the water and turned the surrounding islands an almost purplish blue. The whisps of clouds that still hung in the sky were a kaleidoscope of color ranging from peach to blue to pink to purple. It was surely the most amazing sky I have ever seen. For those of you who do not know, Sorrento is the birthplace of the famous Italian liqueur, limoncello. So what did we go in search of? Limoncello! There is a street that is full of basically nothing but shops selling different products made with Sorrento lemons. Soap, lotion, water, lemons alone, and of course tons of limoncello. We stopped in one store and took some samples (So. Good.) then went in search of dinner. We stopped in a trattoria called The Garden which sat on a porch over looking the city. I had pasta with clams and mussels in some kind of sumptuous sauce that made my lips tingle as it had so much garlic in it. The wine of course was fantastic and we shared a bottle between the 3 of us. We walked back through the city, bought some limoncello and then made it back to the station just in time to catch the last train back to Gennaro’s. It was a fantastic night.
Sunday morning we woke early and Gennaro took Matteo and I to the station to go to Antonio’s city. We met up with Antonio and then went in search of more art. Antonio’s last name is Jomelli which is kin to the famous composer Jomelli who lived in Jomelli square in Averso… where Antonio grew up. Apparently Italians really are serious about sticking to their roots. While looking inside a church was built in the 12th century, we realized that mass was starting and decided to stay. Matteo and I didn’t understand a single word as it was said entirely in Naplitan dialect which apparently to other Italians is an entirely different language. After mass we went to Antonio’s home where his mother, thrilled to have company for the first time in a while as neither of her sons live at home anymore, made us the largest meal I have ever had in my life. It started with small pieces of fried bread, bruschetta, wine, more bread, the famous spaghetti and clams, followed by more clams by themselves, then mussels steamed in garlic and white wine, then steak, then salad, then fruit then more famous Napolitan pastries called baba. I wanted to cry my stomach was so full. I didn’t eat anything for the rest of the day and it was only 3.
We arrived back in Rome around 9 and after checking my email and reading for a bit I fell into a completely card induced slumber. What an amazing weekend.
After the opera house we didn’t stay in Napoli long and headed for Gennaro’s house. Before getting on the train however Gennaro of course wanted me to try some of the famous Napolitan pizza. Yeah, that whole argument in the States about whether New York pizza is better than Chicago style and vice versa… yeah, that can just stop because neither come even sort of close to this. First off this pizza had to be at least 13-15 inches in diameter and the lady just folded it up into a pocket and handed it to me in a piece of wax paper. It was also just one Euro. I was stuffed and had spend probably 5 times less what I would have spent even on a street vendor in NYC… and of course it was far far better.
When we reached casa di Gennaro, his mother of course did not know we had just had pizza and had prepared a lovely meal of homemade gnocchi for us. Surely I could not eat another bite? But to be polite and I tried a gnocchi. Suddenly I was wondering who had stolen my gnocchi as I was staring down at a now empty plate. Oh wait, no one stole my gnocchi… I hade eaten it. Then ate buffala mozzarella… and prosciutto… and salad… and fruit. This is when I remembered Antonio (who is also Napolitan) telling me that Napolitan mothers are notorious for worrying that their children don’t eat enough. Well, no worries here because I was seriously on the verge of exploding.
We decided to go for a drive up Mount Vesuvius to see the mountain face and to get a better look at the sea (which could easily be seen just from Gennaro’s balcony as it was less than 500 yards away). The sun was high in the sky but since we were next to the sea a salty breeze was constantly keeping the worst of the heat off us. The mountain was beautiful and as we climbed higher and higher the sea continued to become more vast and eventually we could see the entire Napolitan gulf from Napoli to Sorrento. After the drive we went to see the excavation sight of the city that was buried (along with Pompei and all the other surrounding cities) by lava in the last volcanic eruption. It was really kind of amazing. The city was in a huge pit and I wondered why it was surrounded by all this land and actually below the modern city. Then I realized that the modern city is built on top of nearly 200 yards of lava. The old city used to sit right against the sea. Now there is nearly another 300 yards from the city to the sea because the lava piled so high that it buried the city and stretched out that much further into the tide. Really incredible and quite frightening at the same time as the huge mountain towered above us the whole time.
After walking around the city and then the beach for a while and taking some amazing pictures of ruins and sunsets, we went back to the house… for more food. No. There could not possibly be more room in my body for more food. But since we were guests, Gennaro had requested that his mother made the specialty dish of Napoli which is spaghetti with clams. Of course they were clams that she had bought that day from fisherman who had caught them that morning with tomatoes that had been picked probably in the last couple days if not that day and then after the pasta there was octopus salad with boiled potatoes (sounds gross but was quite amazing and didn’t taste at all what I had expected) and then there was an entire pan of steamed mussels (by far the best I’ve ever had) and then gelato and of course every course was served with tons of wine. I thought I would die and never be able to digest again. I went to bed stuffed like a calzone and fought hard to keep it all down.
The next day we headed back to Napoli and met up with Antonio. Our first stop was at the top of the city (Napoli is built on a hill) to a very old palace and monastery that over looks the entire gulf. It was of course, like every other palace and museum in Italy, chocked full of art and history. It was beautifully decorated and painted with amazing frescos that seemed to cover every inch of every wall and ceiling. We went back into the city and went to the Museum of Archeology which had many exhibits of specimens that had been collected from excavation sights all around Vesuvius from the explosion. There was also a room that was entirely dedicated to the penis. Yes the male sexual organ in all kinds of fashion from statues, to painting, to hanging ornaments, to furniture, sculptures, demons made out of penises, people made out of penises, in other words “Long live the penis.” In the top floor there was a huge ballroom that was easily as big as if not bigger than a football field. Of course the entire ceiling was one huge fresco. If there is one thing in Italy that is everywhere and yet I never seem to tire of it, it is the ceilings of these old castles and villas and museums that are covered in paintings that are completely life like and yet are bigger than anything we have in America. I just can’t imagine the time it must take and the detail that goes into such work. Really amazing.
After walking until our feet hurt, we got some more Napolitan pizza (except this time I watched them pull it out of the oven) and ate it under the statue of Dante. There is a street that runs along Piazza Dante (yes named for Dante himself) that is nothing but book stores. Matteo and Antonio being art history majors of course went rampant and went on a book buying spree. After walking around for a while we decided it was time for me to try the coffee of Napoli… along with a sfogliatella which is a famous Napolitan pastry that is nothing but flaky crust and sweetened ricotta in the middle. Of course it was sinful and delicious.
We departed from Antonio and went back to Gennaro’s for a small break and then headed out again for Sorrento. We got there just in time to watch the sun set over the gulf and I am positive that I have never seen the sun in a more beautiful form. Toward the end the globe honestly looked like it was melting into the rim of the ocean, pouring itself into the pinkish blue of the water and turned the surrounding islands an almost purplish blue. The whisps of clouds that still hung in the sky were a kaleidoscope of color ranging from peach to blue to pink to purple. It was surely the most amazing sky I have ever seen. For those of you who do not know, Sorrento is the birthplace of the famous Italian liqueur, limoncello. So what did we go in search of? Limoncello! There is a street that is full of basically nothing but shops selling different products made with Sorrento lemons. Soap, lotion, water, lemons alone, and of course tons of limoncello. We stopped in one store and took some samples (So. Good.) then went in search of dinner. We stopped in a trattoria called The Garden which sat on a porch over looking the city. I had pasta with clams and mussels in some kind of sumptuous sauce that made my lips tingle as it had so much garlic in it. The wine of course was fantastic and we shared a bottle between the 3 of us. We walked back through the city, bought some limoncello and then made it back to the station just in time to catch the last train back to Gennaro’s. It was a fantastic night.
Sunday morning we woke early and Gennaro took Matteo and I to the station to go to Antonio’s city. We met up with Antonio and then went in search of more art. Antonio’s last name is Jomelli which is kin to the famous composer Jomelli who lived in Jomelli square in Averso… where Antonio grew up. Apparently Italians really are serious about sticking to their roots. While looking inside a church was built in the 12th century, we realized that mass was starting and decided to stay. Matteo and I didn’t understand a single word as it was said entirely in Naplitan dialect which apparently to other Italians is an entirely different language. After mass we went to Antonio’s home where his mother, thrilled to have company for the first time in a while as neither of her sons live at home anymore, made us the largest meal I have ever had in my life. It started with small pieces of fried bread, bruschetta, wine, more bread, the famous spaghetti and clams, followed by more clams by themselves, then mussels steamed in garlic and white wine, then steak, then salad, then fruit then more famous Napolitan pastries called baba. I wanted to cry my stomach was so full. I didn’t eat anything for the rest of the day and it was only 3.
We arrived back in Rome around 9 and after checking my email and reading for a bit I fell into a completely card induced slumber. What an amazing weekend.
This was supposed to be posted Friday
After having such an amazing birthday complete with more than 80 people writing on my Facebook wall, people giving me a play by play recount of the party and the show I apparently was, even now still catching flack for stuff I did, rarely this week have I found myself without a smile on my face. Even now I am still in shock that people would actually do something like that for me. It has to be one of the most generous things anyone has ever done for me in my entire life and these guys have known me not even a month! It was a strong message and it was certainly well received since I don’t think I have ever had to work harder at holding back tears. The next day was the Festival of the Republic which is a national holiday for Italy and meant no work or class for anyone. Perfect timing if you ask me. After two days of rain the morning came with fair skies, strong winds and the most wild flowers I have seen in one place maybe ever. It was a wonderful way to wake up and greet the day.
Skipping ahead a couple of a days, I spent yesterday (Thursday) afternoon walking around Piazza Spagna (Spanish Steps) doing some intent people watching. I think a whole new flood of college kids must have shown up this week because I have not heard so much English spoken in one place since I got here. It was interesting but as the sun grew higher in the sky, I retreated back to Villa Borghese under some nice tree cover and decided to read by the temple monument at the pond for a while. This was when maybe the most magical thing happened. There were not too many people out and about in this area, just a few lovers on benches near me, one or two boats out on the pond of course filled with more lovers, the sound of children’s laughter from the nearby open lawn that usually is filled with games of soccer and my head filled with thoughts of Avalon. I was reading about yet another traditional Pentecost feast that Arthur was throwing in his court and they of course asked Morgaine to play and sing at her harp as Kevin (the Merlin of Britain) was not in attendance. No sooner had I read Arthur’s plea for Morgaine to play that I suddenly heard faint music in my own world. It was hard to make out as it was quite far off. I looked up as if seeing in the distance would actually help my hearing. Sending out as much of my hearing as possible I tried to block out the rest of the sounds around me. Then the song reached the climax and I suddenly realized that I was listening to a very far off and therefore very haunting “Nessun Dorma” sung but none other than Pavarotti. So put yourself in my shoes. I am sitting under a weeping willow tree with sunlight pouring through the branches in front of a pond in Rome. It was so overwhelming that despite the couple that was taking pictures of each other right in front of me I could do nothing but let the tears that had been held in since Monday night break away from my eyes and slide silently down my cheeks and I listened with all my might to the clear tones of maybe the greatest aria ever written. It ended and even in the distance I could hear a great cry of joyous excitement rise up above the trees from the crowd I could not see. Pure magic.
Today I head out for Napoli. Pray that I make it back not only with all my things, but alive and with no knife wounds.
Skipping ahead a couple of a days, I spent yesterday (Thursday) afternoon walking around Piazza Spagna (Spanish Steps) doing some intent people watching. I think a whole new flood of college kids must have shown up this week because I have not heard so much English spoken in one place since I got here. It was interesting but as the sun grew higher in the sky, I retreated back to Villa Borghese under some nice tree cover and decided to read by the temple monument at the pond for a while. This was when maybe the most magical thing happened. There were not too many people out and about in this area, just a few lovers on benches near me, one or two boats out on the pond of course filled with more lovers, the sound of children’s laughter from the nearby open lawn that usually is filled with games of soccer and my head filled with thoughts of Avalon. I was reading about yet another traditional Pentecost feast that Arthur was throwing in his court and they of course asked Morgaine to play and sing at her harp as Kevin (the Merlin of Britain) was not in attendance. No sooner had I read Arthur’s plea for Morgaine to play that I suddenly heard faint music in my own world. It was hard to make out as it was quite far off. I looked up as if seeing in the distance would actually help my hearing. Sending out as much of my hearing as possible I tried to block out the rest of the sounds around me. Then the song reached the climax and I suddenly realized that I was listening to a very far off and therefore very haunting “Nessun Dorma” sung but none other than Pavarotti. So put yourself in my shoes. I am sitting under a weeping willow tree with sunlight pouring through the branches in front of a pond in Rome. It was so overwhelming that despite the couple that was taking pictures of each other right in front of me I could do nothing but let the tears that had been held in since Monday night break away from my eyes and slide silently down my cheeks and I listened with all my might to the clear tones of maybe the greatest aria ever written. It ended and even in the distance I could hear a great cry of joyous excitement rise up above the trees from the crowd I could not see. Pure magic.
Today I head out for Napoli. Pray that I make it back not only with all my things, but alive and with no knife wounds.
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