Today we woke up at 6am to make the bus down to Florence for a wine tasting around Tuscany. We were exhausted, but I have to admit that going was a great choice. We were on a bus with about 30 others, most of whom turned out to be annoyingly high-pitched high school girls, but luckily after the first vineyard, where we started drinking at approximately 10:30am, we weren't too concerned about them.
It was a little chilly and the first two vineyards we visited were nice but nothing to write online about. We stopped for lunch in Piensa, which I suppose is virtually the only town within reasonable driving distance from every vineyard in Tuscany, because the few tiny streets were absolutely packed with tourists trying to find restaurants with empty tables. There were seven of us from the Villa on the wine tour and we had hoped to eat together, but in the end we had to split up in order to eat. MR, PK and I snagged a small table outside under an umbrella, where we had a choice of bread with ham, bread with salami, bread with cheese, or bread with salami and cheese. PK asked, "Do the sandwiches have mayonaise?"
In a tense moment, the waitress looked at us and repeated, "Mayonaise?"
MR luckily thought to just ask if the sandwiches were served dry, which they were. Unfortunately, we quickly were not. It started raining rather hard and the umbrella was not affording much shelter, but we eventually sucked it up and walked around visiting the stores in Piensa (there are about four of them) until the bus came back to take us to our final vineyard.
The last vineyard was by far the best, and definitely worth the 40 Euros we each dropped for the entire trip. As soon as we entered we were handed glasses of Rosso and fresh bread already covered in the vineyard's own olive oil, which we consumed during a short tour of the building (due to the rain, we stayed inside!). This included not only the fermenting rooms but also a very interesting historical basement of sorts with all kinds of old tools that they used to use for the grapes. Our guide was one of the owners of the vineyard, which is run by him, his brothers, and his father, and he was dressed in all black with sparkles on his shirt! His attitude matched the outfit quite well, we thought. He and the other personalities we met at the vineyard were perhaps the best part of the tour - his father, an old man dressed in a full suit and hat, continually tried to take pictures with the girls, while his mother yelled out, "Mario! Mario!" whenever she caught him.
After the initial tour we were shown into a room where we were given a Brunello, which was quickly followed by small sandwiches not unlike the ones MR, PK and I paid for in Piensa. We were informed that it was tradition during wine tastings for everyone in the room to take a shot of Grappa in the style of a toast, which I can honestly say was the worst thing I drank all day. A plate of some of the best cheese I've ever tasted (which made up for the forced Grappa) came next, to clense our palates for the next Brunello, which was my favorite of all the day's wines. At last, as everyone was deciding which wines they wanted to purchase (after such a show, we couldn't resist!), we were given yet another wine - a small bit of dessert wine that tasted a bit like raisins.
Not surprisingly, we all slept on the bus ride home.
BAG UPDATE: IT'S HERE!!
Sunday, May 31, 2009
Pizza in Pisa
Pisa was quite the adventure. The group was hungry upon disembarking from our quick little train from Florence, and so we stopped in the first nice-looking cafe we could find (ABe actually made the decision to enter based on the attractiveness of the furniture, which admittedly may not have been the best criteria on which to judge a food institution). We ended up having quite a bit of trouble with the waitress behind the counter, who seemed to speak no languages that we did. Being adventurous, I had determined to eat a sandwich displayed in the window of the bar, and I pointed at it and asked, "Che es?"
She stared at me as if I had just spoken in Wingdings, and I repeated myself, pointing again at the sandwich. At long last she shook her head and said, "I don't speak Spanish. Italian or English."
I suppose I was incorrect in using "es" rather than "e", but to my credit "que" and "che" are pronounced the same way, so I was only one letter off from the Italian phrase. I really thought she might have figured it out, but to avoid being difficult I simply asked what the sandwich was in English.
"Ham, cheese, mayonaise," she answered promptly.
You may know that I avoid mayonaise. I asked, "Do you have any with no mayonaise?"
The Wingdings look returned, and she responded, "What is mayonaise?"
This took me by surprise, as I assumed she had an understanding of the word she had introduced into the conversation. However, giving her the benefit of the doubt, I pointed again to the first sandwich and requested she inform me of its contents.
"Ham, cheese, mayonaise," she repeated.
"And are there any with no mayonaise?" I even made the "no" motion with my hands.
"What is mayonaise?"
We were all stunned and confused. Trying once more, I pointed to a different sandwich and simply asked, "Mayonaise?"
"No meat," she said.
I got the sandwich with the mayonaise and scraped the mayonaise off in clumps that decorated the side of my plate. MR took a picture. She and PK had pizza, which was obviously the way I should have gone, though there were several problems with their orders as well, even though MR, who knows Italian rather well, tried to converse with our waitress in what we assumed to be her native language. At this point, we are all relatively sure that the waitress came from a foreign country unknown to us and speaks a language not readily obvious to us.
The food fiasco aside, our trip was quite a success. I learned today that the leaning tower of Pisa was actually built as the bell tower for Pisa's cattedrale - the chapel of Santa Maria. PK, ABe, MR and I got tickets to see the Cathedral, Baptistry, Crypt, and museums, and spent a few hours wandering around and poking inside them, taking pictures with the tower in the background. MR found the experience of the religious green over-religious, especially combined with our prolonged wanderings about the religious structures of Siena yesterday, but I actually thought it was much more touristy and less religious (how many times can I use "religious" in one sentence?). Fueled by my candle escapades of yesterday, I rooted out the candle stand in Santa Maria, hoping to light one and sit peacefully in front of it, reflecting about life. These "candles", though, were plastic stems with lightbulbs on top that lit up when you plugged them into a board. This ruined the experience for me, and on the whole I was entirely less impressed by the cathedral than by its leaning bell tower.
Upon returning to Florence in the early evening, we discovered several Saturday markets still in full swing and walked through them slowly. We made our way past the glittering jewelry stores on Ponte Vecchio as the sun began to set and MR ended up with a painting for 6 Euros (it was initially going for 15, so I am going to begin attempt to emulate her haggling prowress). Supper was almost four hours in a small restaurant where we were joined by several others, and we stopped for gelato on our way back to the bus. We are meeting at 6:30am tomorrow (today, actually!) for a full-day wine tasting around Tuscany. Monday, it seems, will be much more restful than the weekend!
Bag update: someone called the Villa today and reported a scheduled drop-off time of 12 noon today. It was a private number and we have not heard from them since. Needless to say, the bag is not yet here. I have thought "maybe tomorrow" so many times in the past week that "Monday, Monday" has become permanently stuck in my head. Luckily, tomorrow is a day of rest of Catholic countries, so I can think "maybe Monday". It is admittedly not much better and does very little to rid my mind of the Mamas and Papas tune.
She stared at me as if I had just spoken in Wingdings, and I repeated myself, pointing again at the sandwich. At long last she shook her head and said, "I don't speak Spanish. Italian or English."
I suppose I was incorrect in using "es" rather than "e", but to my credit "que" and "che" are pronounced the same way, so I was only one letter off from the Italian phrase. I really thought she might have figured it out, but to avoid being difficult I simply asked what the sandwich was in English.
"Ham, cheese, mayonaise," she answered promptly.
You may know that I avoid mayonaise. I asked, "Do you have any with no mayonaise?"
The Wingdings look returned, and she responded, "What is mayonaise?"
This took me by surprise, as I assumed she had an understanding of the word she had introduced into the conversation. However, giving her the benefit of the doubt, I pointed again to the first sandwich and requested she inform me of its contents.
"Ham, cheese, mayonaise," she repeated.
"And are there any with no mayonaise?" I even made the "no" motion with my hands.
"What is mayonaise?"
We were all stunned and confused. Trying once more, I pointed to a different sandwich and simply asked, "Mayonaise?"
"No meat," she said.
I got the sandwich with the mayonaise and scraped the mayonaise off in clumps that decorated the side of my plate. MR took a picture. She and PK had pizza, which was obviously the way I should have gone, though there were several problems with their orders as well, even though MR, who knows Italian rather well, tried to converse with our waitress in what we assumed to be her native language. At this point, we are all relatively sure that the waitress came from a foreign country unknown to us and speaks a language not readily obvious to us.
The food fiasco aside, our trip was quite a success. I learned today that the leaning tower of Pisa was actually built as the bell tower for Pisa's cattedrale - the chapel of Santa Maria. PK, ABe, MR and I got tickets to see the Cathedral, Baptistry, Crypt, and museums, and spent a few hours wandering around and poking inside them, taking pictures with the tower in the background. MR found the experience of the religious green over-religious, especially combined with our prolonged wanderings about the religious structures of Siena yesterday, but I actually thought it was much more touristy and less religious (how many times can I use "religious" in one sentence?). Fueled by my candle escapades of yesterday, I rooted out the candle stand in Santa Maria, hoping to light one and sit peacefully in front of it, reflecting about life. These "candles", though, were plastic stems with lightbulbs on top that lit up when you plugged them into a board. This ruined the experience for me, and on the whole I was entirely less impressed by the cathedral than by its leaning bell tower.
Upon returning to Florence in the early evening, we discovered several Saturday markets still in full swing and walked through them slowly. We made our way past the glittering jewelry stores on Ponte Vecchio as the sun began to set and MR ended up with a painting for 6 Euros (it was initially going for 15, so I am going to begin attempt to emulate her haggling prowress). Supper was almost four hours in a small restaurant where we were joined by several others, and we stopped for gelato on our way back to the bus. We are meeting at 6:30am tomorrow (today, actually!) for a full-day wine tasting around Tuscany. Monday, it seems, will be much more restful than the weekend!
Bag update: someone called the Villa today and reported a scheduled drop-off time of 12 noon today. It was a private number and we have not heard from them since. Needless to say, the bag is not yet here. I have thought "maybe tomorrow" so many times in the past week that "Monday, Monday" has become permanently stuck in my head. Luckily, tomorrow is a day of rest of Catholic countries, so I can think "maybe Monday". It is admittedly not much better and does very little to rid my mind of the Mamas and Papas tune.
A Climb with a View
So I did not make it to the computer this morning, which I suppose is not that surprising considering my sleep habits as of late. I almost stayed up even later last night to talk to KB on GChat :) but decided in the end to sleeo and make sure to take lots of pictures today and photoshop her in.
Yesterday in Siena we started off at the Piazza Gramschi, and then headed to the Piazza del Campo (think the horse race at the beginning of Quantum of Solace). We took a quick stop inside the Palazzo Publico before climbing all the way up the Torre del Mangio (basically a very tall bell tower with a whole lot of stairs). At the top of the bell tower we met some interesting Brits who are in art school in Florence and, like us, were visiting Siena for the day. They were part of that strange fashion that calls for purposely torn clothes and hair that has been washed but made to look dirty and mussed. They seemed like rich kids trying to be starving artists. I think they might do better to take an internship*.
After the tower, we decided to explore the Duomo. We entered the Cattedrale di Siena right before it was about to close to visitors. I seem to have developed, in spite of my skepticism concerning religion, quite a love for cathedrals and chapels and it kind of frustrates me to be inside one with tourists who walk around listening to audioguides.
Even when a cathedral is full of noise, the echoes off the grand ceilings and walls make it seem empty and quiet somehow. At the Papal Chapel of Madonna de Voto I contributed 48 Euro cents (which I figure is at least $7 USD) and lit a votive candle. (I am atoning for my Vatican sins of March 2009.) There is something very reflective and gentle about sitting in a cool chapel, surrounded by stones, hearing the muted voices of the tourists in the main cathedral drone on and drop their guides and try to remember not to cuss in God's House. It would be funny if the chapel weren't such a comforting, restful place. I wonder how a Catholic regime could create such a safe haven for a non-religious Presbeterian/Episcopalian?
The rest of the Siena experience was markedly different from the Cathedral and mostly included climbing hundreds more stairs to see the views. We made it to the top of the Facciatone (arches), which are particularly interesting because they mark where the end of the cathedral was acutally intended to be. Apparently, the Black Plague struck before they could finish building and, due to a loss of workers and money, construction was stopped.
Our last two stops, while DI hung out with the aforementioned Brits in the Piazza del Campo, were the Baptistry and the Crypt. Both were pretty impressive, but we were tired out by the stairs and starving. The bus ride home meant naps for everyone, and despite buying a bottle of wine for reflection at the Villa we all fell in to bed pretty quickly. Right now we're on the train to Pisa - hopefully another full day!
*Stuff white people like
Yesterday in Siena we started off at the Piazza Gramschi, and then headed to the Piazza del Campo (think the horse race at the beginning of Quantum of Solace). We took a quick stop inside the Palazzo Publico before climbing all the way up the Torre del Mangio (basically a very tall bell tower with a whole lot of stairs). At the top of the bell tower we met some interesting Brits who are in art school in Florence and, like us, were visiting Siena for the day. They were part of that strange fashion that calls for purposely torn clothes and hair that has been washed but made to look dirty and mussed. They seemed like rich kids trying to be starving artists. I think they might do better to take an internship*.
After the tower, we decided to explore the Duomo. We entered the Cattedrale di Siena right before it was about to close to visitors. I seem to have developed, in spite of my skepticism concerning religion, quite a love for cathedrals and chapels and it kind of frustrates me to be inside one with tourists who walk around listening to audioguides.
Even when a cathedral is full of noise, the echoes off the grand ceilings and walls make it seem empty and quiet somehow. At the Papal Chapel of Madonna de Voto I contributed 48 Euro cents (which I figure is at least $7 USD) and lit a votive candle. (I am atoning for my Vatican sins of March 2009.) There is something very reflective and gentle about sitting in a cool chapel, surrounded by stones, hearing the muted voices of the tourists in the main cathedral drone on and drop their guides and try to remember not to cuss in God's House. It would be funny if the chapel weren't such a comforting, restful place. I wonder how a Catholic regime could create such a safe haven for a non-religious Presbeterian/Episcopalian?
The rest of the Siena experience was markedly different from the Cathedral and mostly included climbing hundreds more stairs to see the views. We made it to the top of the Facciatone (arches), which are particularly interesting because they mark where the end of the cathedral was acutally intended to be. Apparently, the Black Plague struck before they could finish building and, due to a loss of workers and money, construction was stopped.
Our last two stops, while DI hung out with the aforementioned Brits in the Piazza del Campo, were the Baptistry and the Crypt. Both were pretty impressive, but we were tired out by the stairs and starving. The bus ride home meant naps for everyone, and despite buying a bottle of wine for reflection at the Villa we all fell in to bed pretty quickly. Right now we're on the train to Pisa - hopefully another full day!
*Stuff white people like
Saturday, May 30, 2009
Only the Good Die Young
Billy Joel, "you may be right", but with my current life itinerary I'm about to start feeling like I'm going to die. Despite a half-day-long bus strike, yesterday after class several of us struck out into Florence to check out the nightlife. We ended up at a bar named "Twice", which we were convinced was pronounced "twee-chay". In fact, it was pronounced "twice".* DI spent the night working the room but had to resort to a promise to friend prospective cuties on Facebook once returning to the Villa due to his continuing lack of a phone, and we girls relied on ABe* and PK to keep the Italian men at bay. Due to the rather unfortunate (and apparently uncoordinated - they only striked during non-rush hours for one day, which made us wonder if perhaps the workers just wanted to play hookey and inventively decided to abuse a political play) bus strike, we spent quite a bit of time trying to locate taxis and cajole them into taking us all the way back to the Villa. One of the cab drivers - mine, sadly - possessed a wildly incorrect mental map of Via Vecchia Fiesolana and repeatedly drove past the same address, insisting it was the Villa. It was not.
Nonetheless, we did eventually arrive back at home base and got to bed at about 4am. We slept for a painfully short time - it was more of a tease than anything - before stumbling back up the hill to Fiesole and heading to Siena for the day. I have lists of the sites and paragraphs upon paragraphs to write, but seeing as it's currently 2:30am and I have agreed to be downstairs ready to go at 9:30am tomorrow (Pisa and then more of Florence!), I believe I need to be a little more good than bad (Billy, I'm going to risk dying young) and get a good night of sleep. I'll make sure to write all about Siena before I leave in the morning.
P.S. - no bag yet, but after extensive calculations I have determined that the conversion to Italy time means it should be here by Tuesday. Updates abounding in the next few posts, I'm sure.
*Perhaps unsurprisingly, this has not deterred us from referring to it as "twee-chay".
*Due to some similar initials among some of the guys in the program, I've decided to be a bit more specific. I do wish I didn't feel a need to be so concerned about the dangers of identity theft and stalking being made easier by blogging. Did you get that, perverts? You're cramping my style.
Nonetheless, we did eventually arrive back at home base and got to bed at about 4am. We slept for a painfully short time - it was more of a tease than anything - before stumbling back up the hill to Fiesole and heading to Siena for the day. I have lists of the sites and paragraphs upon paragraphs to write, but seeing as it's currently 2:30am and I have agreed to be downstairs ready to go at 9:30am tomorrow (Pisa and then more of Florence!), I believe I need to be a little more good than bad (Billy, I'm going to risk dying young) and get a good night of sleep. I'll make sure to write all about Siena before I leave in the morning.
P.S. - no bag yet, but after extensive calculations I have determined that the conversion to Italy time means it should be here by Tuesday. Updates abounding in the next few posts, I'm sure.
*Perhaps unsurprisingly, this has not deterred us from referring to it as "twee-chay".
*Due to some similar initials among some of the guys in the program, I've decided to be a bit more specific. I do wish I didn't feel a need to be so concerned about the dangers of identity theft and stalking being made easier by blogging. Did you get that, perverts? You're cramping my style.
Thursday, May 28, 2009
Fe, Fi, Fo, Fran
Yesterday afternoon we took a walking tour of Florence and I think we must have seen the entire city. I did not find it dark, but brilliant and flooded with activity from tourists and natives. We met up with a Georgetown professor - a Florentine the university decided to employ for his knowledge of history. He gave us a thorough tour that divided the city into three distinct squares: political (Piazza de la Signoria), economic (Piazza de la Republica), and religious (Piazza de Duomo). We also spent quite a bit of time learning about the Medici family and the debate over whether Florence was the Medicis' city or the city of the Medicis. I never figured out which our tour guide leaned toward.
One other bit of news: my bag has been located! It was only a small bag, with nothing truly necessary in it, but thanks to Daddy, JM, and AB I am looking forward to getting it - hopefully it will be dropped off tomorrow while I am in Siena. Saturday is looking like Pisa and Sunday we're all going on a wine tour around Tuscany. Last night was spent at a pub in Fiesole, where most of us helped RK celebrate her birthday. Our bartenders, Francesco and Francesca (seriously), laughed at us when we tried to take pictures of the Georgetown flag that hangs at the top of the bar - I suppose all Georgetown studentsfind their way up there if they're living at the Villa. Between the piano, the gardens, class, trips around Italy, and nights in Fiesole and Florence, I'm not sure how I'm going to get any sleep in the next few weeks!
After class this afternoon I sat in the gardens and read. A breeze was blowing through the trees and when I looked up I could see all of Florence below me, so I took off my shoes and felt generally as if I could be in a Jane Austen novel. Of course, she wasn't much for Italy, so I suppose it would have to have been something more like a Forrester novel, but despite the Fiesole-Firenze-Forreste-Francesco/a alliteration, that scenario didn't seem nearly as romantic.
There is a little sausage dog here sometimes named Ernesto. He follows SM around and barks ferociously whenever anyone buzzes at the gate, even though his belly only clears the ground by about an inch. I hope he is not around when someone arrives to drop my bag off with AB. If you just hear Ernesto bark and don't actually see him, you can be pretty intimidated. Ernesto does not add to the romance of the Villa, but he is rather playful and a good watchdog. He's definitely more of a Forrester character than an Austen one.
Tonight we're heading into Florence to check out the bars around there. I have started a collection of cardboard coasters for SB that get a little squished because I carry them around in the back pocket of my jeans. I think she'll still appreciate them (hint, hint, SB). Right now I'm going to join the rest of the group in the gardens for an after-supper wine party. Life at the Villa is very difficult. I would recommend it only to those who enjoy literature, beauty, music, good conversation, great food, exceptional wine, sitting outdoors, rooms with a view (but not necessarily Forrester), and some fun. :)
One other bit of news: my bag has been located! It was only a small bag, with nothing truly necessary in it, but thanks to Daddy, JM, and AB I am looking forward to getting it - hopefully it will be dropped off tomorrow while I am in Siena. Saturday is looking like Pisa and Sunday we're all going on a wine tour around Tuscany. Last night was spent at a pub in Fiesole, where most of us helped RK celebrate her birthday. Our bartenders, Francesco and Francesca (seriously), laughed at us when we tried to take pictures of the Georgetown flag that hangs at the top of the bar - I suppose all Georgetown studentsfind their way up there if they're living at the Villa. Between the piano, the gardens, class, trips around Italy, and nights in Fiesole and Florence, I'm not sure how I'm going to get any sleep in the next few weeks!
After class this afternoon I sat in the gardens and read. A breeze was blowing through the trees and when I looked up I could see all of Florence below me, so I took off my shoes and felt generally as if I could be in a Jane Austen novel. Of course, she wasn't much for Italy, so I suppose it would have to have been something more like a Forrester novel, but despite the Fiesole-Firenze-Forreste-Francesco/a alliteration, that scenario didn't seem nearly as romantic.
There is a little sausage dog here sometimes named Ernesto. He follows SM around and barks ferociously whenever anyone buzzes at the gate, even though his belly only clears the ground by about an inch. I hope he is not around when someone arrives to drop my bag off with AB. If you just hear Ernesto bark and don't actually see him, you can be pretty intimidated. Ernesto does not add to the romance of the Villa, but he is rather playful and a good watchdog. He's definitely more of a Forrester character than an Austen one.
Tonight we're heading into Florence to check out the bars around there. I have started a collection of cardboard coasters for SB that get a little squished because I carry them around in the back pocket of my jeans. I think she'll still appreciate them (hint, hint, SB). Right now I'm going to join the rest of the group in the gardens for an after-supper wine party. Life at the Villa is very difficult. I would recommend it only to those who enjoy literature, beauty, music, good conversation, great food, exceptional wine, sitting outdoors, rooms with a view (but not necessarily Forrester), and some fun. :)
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Hazy Shade of Late Spring/Early Summer
I arrived at Georgetown's Villa le Balze yesterday at about 12:30 while everyone was eating lunch. I was exhausted and desperately wanted to shower and unpack, but got a rousing greeting in the dining room that cheered me up considerably. Class was a little difficult, as I was close to asleep during most of it, but I rallied and not only took notes but also followed a group up to Fiesole afterward. The Villa is basically located on the side of a mountain and reminds me of the little blue house that is perched halfway between our farm in NC and the rockface above it, only here they call what we're on a "hill". Fiesole is up the hill, and Florence is down the hill.
At the Villa we sleep with all the windows open. I had forgotten how loud birds can be in the morning! It was wonderful to wake up to a chorus of birdsongs rather than car horns. CD, MR, and I think we have the best room - it is on a corner, so we have four huge windows in the bedroom, which gives us views out over Florence and the Villa's gardens. It also creates a nice breeze through the room so that we barely have to turn on our fan at all. Even our bathroom has a beautiful view. Actually, every room in the Villa is beautiful and has a beautiful view. Downstairs, between the library and dining room, is a music room/library continuation - a grand piano surrounded by old books that looks out over Florence. So far it is my favorite place inside here.
Today after our morning class session and lunch we are going on a walking tour of Florence, as we are scheduled to do every Wednesday. I have not really seen Florence yet, but have read several novels in preparation, and I am excited to see what it is like. Most things I have read tell me that, in comparison with Rome, Florence is dark and narrow and made up of all stones. That's what I thought Rome was like, though, and when I rode through part of Florence on my way "up the hill" I thought it was bright and open and made up of all stones. I guess we'll see -
At the Villa we sleep with all the windows open. I had forgotten how loud birds can be in the morning! It was wonderful to wake up to a chorus of birdsongs rather than car horns. CD, MR, and I think we have the best room - it is on a corner, so we have four huge windows in the bedroom, which gives us views out over Florence and the Villa's gardens. It also creates a nice breeze through the room so that we barely have to turn on our fan at all. Even our bathroom has a beautiful view. Actually, every room in the Villa is beautiful and has a beautiful view. Downstairs, between the library and dining room, is a music room/library continuation - a grand piano surrounded by old books that looks out over Florence. So far it is my favorite place inside here.
Today after our morning class session and lunch we are going on a walking tour of Florence, as we are scheduled to do every Wednesday. I have not really seen Florence yet, but have read several novels in preparation, and I am excited to see what it is like. Most things I have read tell me that, in comparison with Rome, Florence is dark and narrow and made up of all stones. That's what I thought Rome was like, though, and when I rode through part of Florence on my way "up the hill" I thought it was bright and open and made up of all stones. I guess we'll see -
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Don't Stand So...
I have arrived in Italy. The small bag of toiletries and exercise clothes I had to check has not, but I have been assured that I will receive it by tomorrow. Just in case, they took down my permanent address. Not a good sign.
The fact that I am barely upset at all (and certainly not surprised) about the absence of my bag perhaps shows that I am already in the Italy state of mind, as the employees at the airport were. I spent about an hour waiting at baggage claim before deciding that my good old Georgetown bookbag of not-completely-necessary-but-nice-to-have things were probably still in the US. I should note that bags were only actually being loaded for about 20 minutes of that hour. With ample time to imagine what was going on behind the scenes, I conjured up a picture of two or three Italian men with no conveyer belt between the airport and the airplane, leisurely carrying two or three bags each to the airport to place on the conveyer belt that we see at baggage claim, and then breaking for cappucino. Rest and repeat.
A man on a flight from Atlanta in a cowboy hat and business suit stood beside me and talked about the Cal women's soccer team, who apparently were on his flight and showed up to the baggage claim in a bright yellow pack. The wait would actually have been quite pleasant had it not been for the old Italian woman who insisted on standing so close to me that I could feel her breath on my shoulder*. I mean, there was an entire airport at her disposal and she would NOT move back. The song "Don't Stand So Close to Me" has been stuck in my head ever since.
I am almost at Termini now, from where I will catch a 2 hour train to Florence and then hop in a cab for a short ride to the Villa. The journey that began at 5pm on May 24th is nearing its end...
(Don't stand so, don't stand so, don't stand so close to me...)
*She was REALLY short.
The fact that I am barely upset at all (and certainly not surprised) about the absence of my bag perhaps shows that I am already in the Italy state of mind, as the employees at the airport were. I spent about an hour waiting at baggage claim before deciding that my good old Georgetown bookbag of not-completely-necessary-but-nice-to-have things were probably still in the US. I should note that bags were only actually being loaded for about 20 minutes of that hour. With ample time to imagine what was going on behind the scenes, I conjured up a picture of two or three Italian men with no conveyer belt between the airport and the airplane, leisurely carrying two or three bags each to the airport to place on the conveyer belt that we see at baggage claim, and then breaking for cappucino. Rest and repeat.
A man on a flight from Atlanta in a cowboy hat and business suit stood beside me and talked about the Cal women's soccer team, who apparently were on his flight and showed up to the baggage claim in a bright yellow pack. The wait would actually have been quite pleasant had it not been for the old Italian woman who insisted on standing so close to me that I could feel her breath on my shoulder*. I mean, there was an entire airport at her disposal and she would NOT move back. The song "Don't Stand So Close to Me" has been stuck in my head ever since.
I am almost at Termini now, from where I will catch a 2 hour train to Florence and then hop in a cab for a short ride to the Villa. The journey that began at 5pm on May 24th is nearing its end...
(Don't stand so, don't stand so, don't stand so close to me...)
*She was REALLY short.
Monday, May 25, 2009
Rome Tomorrow
Well, I'm off to an interesting start. I am not yet writing from the Tuscan Broadband, but rather from the Jamaica, NY Broadband. Since my flight from DCA to JFK was delayed three hours, I missed my flight to Rome, and am now in a Holiday Inn close to the airport. I did get quite a workout running from the terminal I arrived at all the way to the international terminal last night, which I accomplished in under ten minutes. Unfortunately, my plane to Rome was the only one that left JFK on time yesterday (and, in fact, it left four minutes early), and so the only real good that came out of my dash was some cardiovascular exercise.
I must have looked so distraught upon the discovery of my departed plane that a security guard came up to me and started trying to help me out. He actually tried to bully a Delta agent into stopping the plane, and she looked at him like he was crazy. When he finally left me to find the Holiday Inn, he very cheerfully told me to find him when I returned to the airport the next day. Even after sleeping on it, I am still not sure whether I would prefer to avoid him or have his help.
I very much hoped that someone would be rude enough to merit my yelling at him, but all the flight agents were very kind (if somewhat dense). Rather than finding someone to take my anger out on, I ended up playing with two little boys and their transformers while their mother cried to an agent. I quickly learned that transformer toys are very entertaining but not great for taking out aggression.
It took 40 minutes of waiting outside in the middle of the night for the Holiday Inn shuttle bus to arrive, during which time I chatted with an incoming Harvard freshman. He was awed at my college graduate status and we spent quite a bit of time contemplating the arrival, loading, and departure of a smartecart truck. At first, it seemed natural to load up all the smartecarts from the airport and drive them away for the night, but upon further discussion, we began to realize that such actions made very little sense. What could they possibly be doing with the smartecarts at night? Where were they going? Surely not to be powered off or charged or cleaned or refurbished. It seemed unlikely that they would need storing. I have thought about those smartecarts almost incessantly since I saw them loaded, and I have still not come up with a solution.
So today I am in Jamaica, NY, reading about international law and contemplating the destiny of smartecarts at night. Rome tomorrow.
I must have looked so distraught upon the discovery of my departed plane that a security guard came up to me and started trying to help me out. He actually tried to bully a Delta agent into stopping the plane, and she looked at him like he was crazy. When he finally left me to find the Holiday Inn, he very cheerfully told me to find him when I returned to the airport the next day. Even after sleeping on it, I am still not sure whether I would prefer to avoid him or have his help.
I very much hoped that someone would be rude enough to merit my yelling at him, but all the flight agents were very kind (if somewhat dense). Rather than finding someone to take my anger out on, I ended up playing with two little boys and their transformers while their mother cried to an agent. I quickly learned that transformer toys are very entertaining but not great for taking out aggression.
It took 40 minutes of waiting outside in the middle of the night for the Holiday Inn shuttle bus to arrive, during which time I chatted with an incoming Harvard freshman. He was awed at my college graduate status and we spent quite a bit of time contemplating the arrival, loading, and departure of a smartecart truck. At first, it seemed natural to load up all the smartecarts from the airport and drive them away for the night, but upon further discussion, we began to realize that such actions made very little sense. What could they possibly be doing with the smartecarts at night? Where were they going? Surely not to be powered off or charged or cleaned or refurbished. It seemed unlikely that they would need storing. I have thought about those smartecarts almost incessantly since I saw them loaded, and I have still not come up with a solution.
So today I am in Jamaica, NY, reading about international law and contemplating the destiny of smartecarts at night. Rome tomorrow.
Sunday, May 24, 2009
Back to Italy
This evening I am heading back to Italy! After two months of reading novels on Florence instead of studying Italian, I believe I am thoroughly prepared.
So far, my first flight has been delayed twice, but I have been assured by a Delta agent that I will make my connection. MR* has already left DC and will be meeting me at Chef Express at FCO in Rome, and from there we will take the da Vinci train to Termini, a train to Florence, and a bus to Georgetown's Villa at Fiesole. It is strange to compare this trip with my last visit to Italy, which I spent completely as a tourist. I of course will still be a tourist for the next month, but to actually live in Tuscany - to spend more time just walking around, and not so much time worrying about seeing everything - will be such a different experience. I am very much looking forward to the gardens and company that the Villa will provide, and to having more time to reflect on the art and chapels I get to see.
Wish me luck on making my connection! More interesting posts will follow once I arrive tomorrow evening.
*I have determined that, since this is on the world wide web and all, I will be using initials for my friends while writing From the Tuscan Broadband.
So far, my first flight has been delayed twice, but I have been assured by a Delta agent that I will make my connection. MR* has already left DC and will be meeting me at Chef Express at FCO in Rome, and from there we will take the da Vinci train to Termini, a train to Florence, and a bus to Georgetown's Villa at Fiesole. It is strange to compare this trip with my last visit to Italy, which I spent completely as a tourist. I of course will still be a tourist for the next month, but to actually live in Tuscany - to spend more time just walking around, and not so much time worrying about seeing everything - will be such a different experience. I am very much looking forward to the gardens and company that the Villa will provide, and to having more time to reflect on the art and chapels I get to see.
Wish me luck on making my connection! More interesting posts will follow once I arrive tomorrow evening.
*I have determined that, since this is on the world wide web and all, I will be using initials for my friends while writing From the Tuscan Broadband.
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