Adam is in town. I may be down and out for six weeks with no new post. Blame it on the romance of Italy.
Trips soon to follow.
Wednesday, June 26, 2013
Monday, June 24, 2013
Regatta
Today must be my favorite celebration. Again a celebration surrounding the river (very primal), regatta happens in the day. Four port cities compete in a medieval style rowing race. First I regretted my decision to stay in town instead of travel. Now I love it. This race only happens once every four years in one of the port cities (Pisa, Amalfi, Genova, e Venezia) I got lucky being here this year.
I decided to walk to town today. I was told it would take an hour but only took a half. I immediately liked my decision.
The day is beautiful. I walked by my favorite view in all of Pisa. The sky is blue. The wind is calm.
I arrive at the river, find a spot on the wall, and sit to read. A small bambina...probably two, cries to see the bella l'acqua. Instead of making me wish to never have children, I enjoy the fact that I can understand. Both her language and the reason why. The water is beautiful.
A car show proceeds through town. Old European cars that would make my dad' s heart twitter. I sit and enjoy. It's my weekly Sunday Funday.
During the parade straight men in tights threw flags. I love ancient traditions!
The parade helps pride grow. In ways I am reminded of game days in Morgantown. The city united for a common goal. Yet here people cheer without the influence of alcohol and all teams are celebrated. Respect was given to every city represented.
The costume from many years past puts this city in the proper place. You can feel what is must have been like then. It wasn't one country but rival cities. So...who will have the best row team?
The event is the first time I feel Italian culture. Really get to know the people. Also makes me slightly thrilled for calcio season. Soccer for Americans and football to the rest of the world.
The procession is like a mini olympics. A parade a competition and a celebration. Better than March madness because of weather and elaborate festivities.
The river races start. It's rowing, which I find to be thrilling. First a small modern boat race takes place. Pisa wins! The crowd goes wild. Next is the main event. Long medieval boats line up. They start from much further back than the small modern boats did. I am near the finish line, so I must watch the screen to the see the start. It's starts off very close. Amalfi and Pisa are neck and neck. Stern in stern...Then Pisa takes the lead, and keeps it. The crowd begins to shout, Pisa, Pisa, Pisa. I join in, because this is my city too. Near the finish Venice comes to the lead. Then Pisa. Then Venice. In the end Venice wins. This really does not come as a surprise to me. Venice is a city of water, they should be pretty good a navigating it.
The crowds retreat, and I start the walk home. The mountains are in view. I am completely satisfied.
I decided to walk to town today. I was told it would take an hour but only took a half. I immediately liked my decision.
My favorite view in all of Pisa
The day is beautiful. I walked by my favorite view in all of Pisa. The sky is blue. The wind is calm.
I arrive at the river, find a spot on the wall, and sit to read. A small bambina...probably two, cries to see the bella l'acqua. Instead of making me wish to never have children, I enjoy the fact that I can understand. Both her language and the reason why. The water is beautiful.
A car show proceeds through town. Old European cars that would make my dad' s heart twitter. I sit and enjoy. It's my weekly Sunday Funday.
During the parade straight men in tights threw flags. I love ancient traditions!
The parade helps pride grow. In ways I am reminded of game days in Morgantown. The city united for a common goal. Yet here people cheer without the influence of alcohol and all teams are celebrated. Respect was given to every city represented.
Amalfi
Venice
Genova
Pisa
The costume from many years past puts this city in the proper place. You can feel what is must have been like then. It wasn't one country but rival cities. So...who will have the best row team?
The event is the first time I feel Italian culture. Really get to know the people. Also makes me slightly thrilled for calcio season. Soccer for Americans and football to the rest of the world.
The procession is like a mini olympics. A parade a competition and a celebration. Better than March madness because of weather and elaborate festivities.
The river races start. It's rowing, which I find to be thrilling. First a small modern boat race takes place. Pisa wins! The crowd goes wild. Next is the main event. Long medieval boats line up. They start from much further back than the small modern boats did. I am near the finish line, so I must watch the screen to the see the start. It's starts off very close. Amalfi and Pisa are neck and neck. Stern in stern...Then Pisa takes the lead, and keeps it. The crowd begins to shout, Pisa, Pisa, Pisa. I join in, because this is my city too. Near the finish Venice comes to the lead. Then Pisa. Then Venice. In the end Venice wins. This really does not come as a surprise to me. Venice is a city of water, they should be pretty good a navigating it.
Pisa (white) won the little boat race
Venice (green) and Pisa (red) neck in neck
All the old fashioned boats
The crowds retreat, and I start the walk home. The mountains are in view. I am completely satisfied.
Walking along the old wall
View of mountains going home
Friday, June 21, 2013
Adjustments
I can't exactly say I'm experiencing culture shock. The movies I watched, the books I read, the music I heard, prepared me for what I am experiencing. However, there are some things I must get used to here. Minor, but worth mentioning, either for the hilarity or the queerness. I in no way wish to offend Italians. This is just different than what I am used to.
1. Italy is small. The size of California, in it's entirety. This is great for traveling, but it causes a bit of miscommunication. When I ask a student if they are from this area, they will tell me no if they were not born in Pisa. "No, I am from a town 15kilometers away." That's less than 10 miles. (They are from around here, but to them, it's far.) "Oh, exactly, I cannot throw a rock that far. How do you ever manage to see your family?"
2. Italians do not consider Sicily to be Italy. Though, the rest of the world does. (They do not have their own team at the Olympics.) Yesterday, I asked a woman where she was from. She said Sicily with such a heavy accent I did not recognize it. I asked her if it was close, and she said it's not in Italy. Hmmm.
3. Italians are simply modest about their language level. I can tell someone Io parlo poco Italiano. They will tell me they speak little English, then go on to tell me how rust oxidizes in English. If I could say as much in Italian as they say in English, I would tell everyone I was fluent.
4. How do I put this nicely. The creators of the wonderful fairy tale of the honest boy Pinocchio, are not very honest when giving directions. While in Viareggio I asked three people where the closest ATM was. They all told me very different things. DO NOT ASK ITALIANS FOR DIRECTIONS!
5. There is something in Tuscany called the slow food movement (to keep local food alive.) You eat slowly and enjoy every bite. Well, I have not a drop of Italian blood in me. I eat food quickly about 8 times a day. Yes, my three meals have become one continuous meal all day long.
6. Men will compliment you. Always. I have begin to think it's not because they constantly want to be skin on skin, but rather because they just enjoy giving compliments. They appreciate beauty, and will tell you when they think you are of beauty.
7. If you try really hard to speak Italian with them, they appreciate it.
8. If you try really hard to speak Italian with them, and mispronounce one thing, they have no idea. NO idea.
9. National pride in Italy is stronger than anywhere I've ever been. I have an uncle who will only buy things made in the USA. Yet, he doesn't even touch the pride Italians have for their home. They truly believe they have the best food, art, buildings, history, family life, language, explorers, etc...( In some ways I agree, they do have the best food, art, buildings, language, and their explorers found my country, so really I can't complain.)
10. All Italians, all of them, love their wine. They automatically assume you already know Italian wine is the best. Tell them you aren't sure, and they will let you sample everything.
11. Sometime train come, sometime not.
12. You know that awkward moment when someone catches you staring and you immediately look away. For Italians, this is not awkward. They will just keep on staring at you.
13. If I eat too many carbs, I will become flabby. (Pastas, pizzas, sugars, ice cream.) That's basically my diet minus a few fruits and vegetables.
14. Italians talk about how their soul feels in everyday conversation. "My soul is at peace here," said to a stranger is just a normal as talking about the weather.
1. Italy is small. The size of California, in it's entirety. This is great for traveling, but it causes a bit of miscommunication. When I ask a student if they are from this area, they will tell me no if they were not born in Pisa. "No, I am from a town 15kilometers away." That's less than 10 miles. (They are from around here, but to them, it's far.) "Oh, exactly, I cannot throw a rock that far. How do you ever manage to see your family?"
2. Italians do not consider Sicily to be Italy. Though, the rest of the world does. (They do not have their own team at the Olympics.) Yesterday, I asked a woman where she was from. She said Sicily with such a heavy accent I did not recognize it. I asked her if it was close, and she said it's not in Italy. Hmmm.
3. Italians are simply modest about their language level. I can tell someone Io parlo poco Italiano. They will tell me they speak little English, then go on to tell me how rust oxidizes in English. If I could say as much in Italian as they say in English, I would tell everyone I was fluent.
4. How do I put this nicely. The creators of the wonderful fairy tale of the honest boy Pinocchio, are not very honest when giving directions. While in Viareggio I asked three people where the closest ATM was. They all told me very different things. DO NOT ASK ITALIANS FOR DIRECTIONS!
5. There is something in Tuscany called the slow food movement (to keep local food alive.) You eat slowly and enjoy every bite. Well, I have not a drop of Italian blood in me. I eat food quickly about 8 times a day. Yes, my three meals have become one continuous meal all day long.
6. Men will compliment you. Always. I have begin to think it's not because they constantly want to be skin on skin, but rather because they just enjoy giving compliments. They appreciate beauty, and will tell you when they think you are of beauty.
7. If you try really hard to speak Italian with them, they appreciate it.
8. If you try really hard to speak Italian with them, and mispronounce one thing, they have no idea. NO idea.
9. National pride in Italy is stronger than anywhere I've ever been. I have an uncle who will only buy things made in the USA. Yet, he doesn't even touch the pride Italians have for their home. They truly believe they have the best food, art, buildings, history, family life, language, explorers, etc...( In some ways I agree, they do have the best food, art, buildings, language, and their explorers found my country, so really I can't complain.)
10. All Italians, all of them, love their wine. They automatically assume you already know Italian wine is the best. Tell them you aren't sure, and they will let you sample everything.
11. Sometime train come, sometime not.
12. You know that awkward moment when someone catches you staring and you immediately look away. For Italians, this is not awkward. They will just keep on staring at you.
13. If I eat too many carbs, I will become flabby. (Pastas, pizzas, sugars, ice cream.) That's basically my diet minus a few fruits and vegetables.
14. Italians talk about how their soul feels in everyday conversation. "My soul is at peace here," said to a stranger is just a normal as talking about the weather.
Thursday, June 20, 2013
La Spiaggia Part 1
Viareggio. It's a beach's beach. Here thousands of umbrellas make a rainbow on the sand. The sea feels good. The sun feels even better. So nice in fact, I think instead of going to Milan and Como next weekend, I will save money and head to the beach. (Then come home and clean for my next guest that I am the most excited about!)
Do to the fact that I cannot afford to go to Milan and Lake Como this weekend, it's something I want to save for Adam, and I really like la spiaggia I decided I will go back. This will summarize the first trip:
1. I slept in that Monday, because it was a holiday in Pisa. I was up late for Luminara and needed my rest for the long day I intended for the beach. (Now when I say slept in, I mean I didn't wake up at 7...not most people's definition.)
I arrived at the train station hoping to get a quick train to Viareggio. I mean, they should go every half hour. No, my train wasn't leaving for two hours. I bought the ticket, left the station, and read by a fountain for two hours.
Finally on a train headed to Viareggio. Get off the train, and take a wild guess which direction to walk in. I am approached in Italian being asked how to get to the sea. (I was mistaken for an Italian!) He is obviously an American, so I honestly tell him, I'm guessing...this way. We walk, and I have made a friend for the rest of the day.
We walk about 10 minutes to the sea. The views along the way are a flowering elegance.
Do to the fact that I cannot afford to go to Milan and Lake Como this weekend, it's something I want to save for Adam, and I really like la spiaggia I decided I will go back. This will summarize the first trip:
1. I slept in that Monday, because it was a holiday in Pisa. I was up late for Luminara and needed my rest for the long day I intended for the beach. (Now when I say slept in, I mean I didn't wake up at 7...not most people's definition.)
I arrived at the train station hoping to get a quick train to Viareggio. I mean, they should go every half hour. No, my train wasn't leaving for two hours. I bought the ticket, left the station, and read by a fountain for two hours.
Finally on a train headed to Viareggio. Get off the train, and take a wild guess which direction to walk in. I am approached in Italian being asked how to get to the sea. (I was mistaken for an Italian!) He is obviously an American, so I honestly tell him, I'm guessing...this way. We walk, and I have made a friend for the rest of the day.
We walk about 10 minutes to the sea. The views along the way are a flowering elegance.
We pay 5euros for all day beach access, and now, I have someone to watch my things as I float in the salty sea. The water is warm. The water is beautiful. I look back on the beach and see the rainbow of many umbrellas. Possibly thousands.
The Italians are tan, and we white Americans stick out like a dog among chickens. Not to mention we cannot stop staring at the huge mountains that are snow capped we can see from our spot on the beach. WOW! Natural beauty is my favorite. God has a good eye for painting a perfect picture.
We both decide we are hungry, and desperately thirsty in need of a cool drink. We go to a café along the beach road, that Viareggio is famous for. I find out, he too is a vegetarian, so we must find a salad or light pasta. With cheese of course. We go to the first restaurant after an ordeal of finding a bancomat (ATM). This restaurant looks lovely, and when we go to order, in Italian, we find they are out of mozzarella. How could any restaurant in Italy be out of mozzarella?
We find a new place, he picks. Slightly more than what I would what to pay for things, but he's a man, and really, I think they just don't get it sometimes. We eat a nice lunch, talk, and I find he is actually teacher architecture at the University in Florence. I'm a teacher, he's a professor. He's one up on me. He pays for pranzo I pay for gelato. (Yes, I had ice cream, again.) We go back to our spot on the beach, and I am thrilled to read, fall asleep, and soak in the sole.
Tuesday, June 18, 2013
Luminara
Every year Pisa has a huge celebration called Luminara. It is here, Pisans celebrate their Saint, Ranieri. They also get off their rocker drunk, and put on a pretty good show. This was my first Luminara, and WOW was I stunned. The entire town comes to life in unity to celebrate a holy person. It lights up like Christmas to celebrate something saintly, but not Christ himself. I'm still learning.
Weeks before the Luminara, preparations are made. Huge white wood frames must go on all the windows along the Arno River. Thousands of candles must be lit, by about 400 city workers.
I pass the hours slowly sitting on the wall along the river, people watching, reading, enjoying. Moment by moment more people arrive, and I become all the more intrigued.
I am astounded by how much Italian I begin to understand, as mouths all around me talk about their excitement, their joy to celebrate with family, their happiness to be together. I am temporarily sad to be alone in a foreign country, leaving my friends and family behind. They will miss this celebration, just as I will miss celebrations with them. Then, just as quickly as the feeling came, it passed, leaving only thrill.
The sole begins to set behind the city. The candles begin to be seen. I am in awe by the work that goes into this. Not string Christmas lights that Americans complain enough about, but thousands of hand lit candles. When it really counts to take time and do something right, Italians are experts.
And then, a great celebration happens. Then people all appreciate the same thing. Then I melt into Pisa. The people, the food (which I possibly melt into, to well,) the language, the culture. It is Luminara.
Weeks before the Luminara, preparations are made. Huge white wood frames must go on all the windows along the Arno River. Thousands of candles must be lit, by about 400 city workers.
The late afternoon fills the streets with people. All hoping to get some festival food. Sliced ham, as thin as possible, without a machine. Keebabs. Candies. Mojitos. Bira. And the heat brings, l'acqua.
I pass the hours slowly sitting on the wall along the river, people watching, reading, enjoying. Moment by moment more people arrive, and I become all the more intrigued.
The sole begins to set behind the city. The candles begin to be seen. I am in awe by the work that goes into this. Not string Christmas lights that Americans complain enough about, but thousands of hand lit candles. When it really counts to take time and do something right, Italians are experts.
Tonight I became part of my city. A celebration I had never heard of in the US, became my city, my celebration. I fit in. I know the good places to eat. I know the bus system. I know the surrounding city. I ride the bus with my students, (which I hope I never say again when I move back to the US.) Tonight was a night of bellissima.
Sunday, June 16, 2013
Sand in My Shorts....and I like it
Sitting a the train station reading a novel about Tuscany, I begin to feel a large portion of my life as an Italian will be spent here. I am ok with that. I am traveling Europe alone. I am strong.
I need to plan my trip for next weekend, to Milan and Como Lago. As close to Switzerland as it gets. But for now I am content waiting at the train station, belly full of capuccino, heading to the beach.
I arrive in Livorno with no clue how to get to the beach. I ask someone in Italian and find out just how kind Tuscans can be. I was given a bus ticket really just because I made the effort as a tourist to speak Italian. I love language!
Livorno reminds me of Florida mixed with a hot day at Coney Island. Families are out on bikes. Sundays really do bring out the best in Italians. It's a time for the family. A day for actual rest. Much needed I feel. I pay 5 euros for a day of exclusive beach access. Worth it for the tan I'll receive and the book I will devour.
Later today I will return to Pisa for the celebration of the year, but for now it is the sunshine for me.
The classic idea of an Italian is alive in this modern city. The city was rebuilt after the war, so most beauty is gone. Yet the feel is very much dominate. Here men compete to be the most tan. There fore they where nearly a slingshot in hopes to leather their cheeks. The culture is amusing enough to be appreciated.
To describe Livorno perfectly one must remember classic 1950s movies. The ones with old wrinkly men from Italy swim laps in the sea wearing little more than a wash cloth. It must be how Dean Martin spent his final years. Although Americans may frown on this there is a definite peace here. Sofia Loren, the entire rat pack...minus Sammy. This is the life.
It is at this beach, that is not particularly beautiful, yet the atmosphere screams LOVE ME, that I think of a line from Octavio Paz "Light is time thinking about itself." The hours pass slow, and for this I am grateful.
I attempt to catch a bus, and am told it will be another half hour. While I stand waiting, I am asked by an Australian gentleman if I would like a drink. Yes, I would. Succo d'arancia, to be exact.
Finally I get to the train station. A Brit approaches me in hopes that I speak English. I do. He is also going to Pisa, so we go to three different platforms to find the correct train. Hey, this is Italy. He is thankful I speak a minor amount of Italian, and we converse on the way home. I found a friend, that I will meet later tonight for the Pisan celebration called, Luminara.
Today I am happy it's a lazy Sunday with good people.
I need to plan my trip for next weekend, to Milan and Como Lago. As close to Switzerland as it gets. But for now I am content waiting at the train station, belly full of capuccino, heading to the beach.
I arrive in Livorno with no clue how to get to the beach. I ask someone in Italian and find out just how kind Tuscans can be. I was given a bus ticket really just because I made the effort as a tourist to speak Italian. I love language!
Livorno reminds me of Florida mixed with a hot day at Coney Island. Families are out on bikes. Sundays really do bring out the best in Italians. It's a time for the family. A day for actual rest. Much needed I feel. I pay 5 euros for a day of exclusive beach access. Worth it for the tan I'll receive and the book I will devour.
Path along the beach
Livorno's classic board walk
Boy learns to ride his bike
Boardwalk and Mediterranean
Later today I will return to Pisa for the celebration of the year, but for now it is the sunshine for me.
The classic idea of an Italian is alive in this modern city. The city was rebuilt after the war, so most beauty is gone. Yet the feel is very much dominate. Here men compete to be the most tan. There fore they where nearly a slingshot in hopes to leather their cheeks. The culture is amusing enough to be appreciated.
To describe Livorno perfectly one must remember classic 1950s movies. The ones with old wrinkly men from Italy swim laps in the sea wearing little more than a wash cloth. It must be how Dean Martin spent his final years. Although Americans may frown on this there is a definite peace here. Sofia Loren, the entire rat pack...minus Sammy. This is the life.
I attempt to catch a bus, and am told it will be another half hour. While I stand waiting, I am asked by an Australian gentleman if I would like a drink. Yes, I would. Succo d'arancia, to be exact.
Finally I get to the train station. A Brit approaches me in hopes that I speak English. I do. He is also going to Pisa, so we go to three different platforms to find the correct train. Hey, this is Italy. He is thankful I speak a minor amount of Italian, and we converse on the way home. I found a friend, that I will meet later tonight for the Pisan celebration called, Luminara.
Today I am happy it's a lazy Sunday with good people.
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