Montefiascone view

It's been a while since I posted... I just got back from dinner. After school I went to a nearby town called Montefiascone with a friend. Montefiascone, which perhaps, god forbid, you've never heard of, is home to the 3rd largest dome in Italy, a monster of a dome in a rather self-important looking church atop a hill. Inside the church was a magazine for sale for 1.95 euros that said "Non c'è storia senza la Chiesa" or something to that effect. I honestly almost got it, simply for that cover. Never mind 3000 years of written history before Jesus, and thousands more years before that, never mind everything that's ever happened that actually wasn't fundamentally affected by the existence of the Church. Hah, but it was a great church. There actually was no one there, so it was eerily quiet. I couldn't help but speak in a whisper when I dared speak at all. Standing at the very center of the church under the dome was pretty intense - the dome really is huge from the inside, it seems almost bigger from there than it does from outside.

In addition to this most spectacular dome, Montefiascone boasts excellent wine. As the story goes, there was a bishop, Giovanni Defugger, who had something of a soft spot for wine. He would go from place to place tasting the wine there. Sent to precede Defugger on his travels was the king's squire himself, and this young lad labeled the wineries thus: 'est' if it was good, and 'est est' if it was really good. However when he arrived in Montefiascone the wine was so superb that he wrote 'est est est' on the door, showing Defugger that the wine was three times as good. The unlucky bishop drank so much of this good wine that he drank himself to death. His will stipulated that every year a barrel of the wine be poured onto his tomb, a practice which has unfortunately since ceased.

So Montefiascone was gorgeous and fun and all, most especially the brilliantly beautiful sunset over Lago di Balseno and the amazing view into the valley. However as we attempted to return home to Viterbo, someone pointed us to the wrong bus stop... we waited there, and as though to spite us, the very bus we wanted drove right past us in the other direction and did not stop. We ran after it for a while, until it had disappeared. By now it was pitch black out, so we asked a few shop owners where the bus stopped, and they pointed us to a stop further down the road. We waited there for the 8.00 bus, which did not appear at 8.00, because of course all the buses will be on time until the one day you really need them to be. Then, of course, they will be late. There was a random super-talkative lady at the bus stop who was Texan but lives in Italy... she asked us a little about ourselves and then spent about 30 minutes telling us what a stupid place Italy is and how we should go back home immediately. The main reason, she said, is because Italy's so expensive. Definitely, that's true. But when you think about it, I'm actually not being forced to spend that much. Admittedly, I spend way more than I should on gelato... But otherwise I get free meals three times a day, transportation is practically free now that I've mastered the technique of NEVER VALIDATING MY TICKET (good for all travel within the immediate area with my current ticket, a red one. however this could result in a heavy fine. Plan: "non speako italiano. che ticketa? che? che?" till the ticket checker becomes so frustrated that he just gives up on me and moves on rather than demand the fine). So for the most part, I haven't got it too bad when it comes to the prices here. They're actually good for me in that I don't get gelato nearly as often as I would if it were priced as cheap as in the US (as in I only get one a day, at most - it's amazing how I'm able to restrain myself); so despite what she said, I'm still so glad to be here. I think it was interesting that she's so immersed in the culture yet despises it so much. I hope I never get tired of it.

As it became later and later we began to get more and more frantic. FRANTIC!!! But at last - at last!! - the bus came (I had run through traffic to stop an earlier bus which had turned out to not even be the right one. that was embarrassing), at about 8.30, and we were at long length on the way back to Viterbo. Half an hour late to dinner, despicable especially since I was a guest and both the Italian teachers were there, but at least we made it. And we were richer for the afternoon, I think, and for meeting that woman. I want to have all the appreciation and more for this country that she is lacking.

Liechtenstein

Rules for independent travel: we may leave the country, but we may not go to Amsterdam. I am greatly amused that Amsterdam made the rules. If it weren't off-limits, I must admit I would love to go there, just so that I could say I've been to grand old Amsterdam where everything known to man is legal. Really, though, that's absolutely the way to go. Legalize everything short of manslaughter and torture, and voila! No more problems.

So the only reason we can leave the country this year is because they forgot to put it in the summer mailings that we're not allowed to. I think that's the funniest reason to allow it; since they led us to believe that we could travel outside the country, we now are allowed to because of their slip. However they are going to be sure to put that rule into next summer mailing, so next year's students can't leave Italy the whole year round. I'm not necessarily complaining; who knows if I'll even leave Italy? There's really so much to do and see here that I may never want to leave. But it's so nice to think that I could if I wanted to. I mean, I'm a train ride away from Switzerland and Austria. Oh, and of course I'm close enough to Liechtenstein. Believe me, if I go nowhere else this year, I will go to Liechtenstein. I would love so much to go to what's probably the smallest or at least one of the smallest countries in the world. Seriously, have you ever even heard of Liechtenstein? Case in point. Quod erat demonstratum. It's hidden away between Switzerland and Austria. You can't even see it on most maps. Heh, all the more reason to go! Only problem is, I still can't find a map that actually shows any cities in Liechtenstein - all the maps I've looked at just show a little patch that is Liechtenstein, but completely devoid of signs of civilization... Perhaps that's why no one's ever heard of this place. It could be a giant wasteland, abandoned for centuries since the aliens took it over. Because of course, aliens took over all of Europe once upon a time. The only difference is that all the countries except for Liechtenstein thrived under alien rule. The Liechtensteinians were allergic to the aliens, unfortunately, and all died off.

Today I tried to cancel an art class I had signed up for. That was definitely an adventure. I went with a classmate, Gina, who was also trying to cancel - we'd signed up for the art class thinking we'd be able to meet Italians close to our age, but the only other people in the course, which is ceramics, are all middle aged and boring. So we went to quit. However, apparently the forms we'd signed that said we'd take the course are legally binding. As in, we signed them thinking we were just giving the art course our names and our agreement that we'd pay them and take the course. Well, there's no backing out once you've dated that form and signed it, and no one told us that when we signed the forms a few weeks ago. So today when we went to cancel, we were told (in Italian, of course) that we had to pay. Well, for what? We haven't started the course yet. In answer to this question the woman pulls out a giant book and flips through it to our forms and points menacingly to our signatures at the bottom. These, she said, these are the reason you have to pay. You've sold your souls to me with these signatures, and now you owe me 80 euros each. PAY. NOW.

So, after about 30 minutes of going in circles because we didn't want to pay but had to because we'd sworn to by signing this legally binding document, we finally relinquished the 160 euros, mourning the loss sincerely. This was followed by another 5 minutes of us trying to get her to give us a receipt, so that SYA would reimburse us. Well, she'll give it to us when we come back. Well, we're not coming back till November. Well, you'll get the receipts then. Well, can we come back next week to get them? If you like; come whenever you want to get the receipts. Okay, if it's that easy, can you give them to us now? No, I'll give them to you in November. But now we're back where we started! November is too far away! We need the damned receipts NOW. AAAH.

In the end, it wasn't that bad. I am excited to do ceramics, even if it's with a bunch of boring people. Plus Gina will be there too so we'll keep each other company and learn together. And it was pretty exciting to be able to have actual arguments in Italian, even though they seemed to go in circles a bit. So, a learning experience. But that lady had damned well better have the receipts when I go back in November... I am so not putting 80 euros on a course with boring people. Especially a course that disguises legally binding documents as innocent course agreements.

Silenzio, Silence. Shh!

This is the most spectacular view into the valley from Assisi. I have about five billion photos just of the view, since it's so gorgeous. This one's my favorite, though, partly because of the clouds, but mostly because of the giant yellow crane. Pretty awesome.

It is time for a brief celebration, since I've just upgraded my Flickr account so I can now put endless numbers of photos up and will never again run out of room. Muahaha!! So, enjoy, prosper, flourish, all that jazz.

"Silenzio, Silence. Shhh!" was repeated about every 5 minutes in the Basilica of San Francesco. It was hilarious, because it was said into a microphone so it echoed throughout the church over the rumble of voices; however the man who continually made the announcement sounded like he could care less in calling for silence, but always said "SHHH!" incredibly vigorously. Then there'd be silence for all of 45 seconds, except for the shuffling of feet, and voices would slowly begin to speak until the church was as noisy as before the announcement. Seems like a rather thankless job, to be the guy who calls for silence all day.

I am knitting a shoe

Scarpa and sciarpa sound basically the same. And with so much Italian vocabulary rolling around in my head, it's often hard to pick out the right word. Thus I keep on accidentally telling everyone that I make shoes, which in fact I do not. I make sciarpe, scarves. But it was funny the first time I made that mistake, when Armida was driving me home and it was dark so I couldn't show her the scarf, so she couldn't guess at what I was trying to say; I told her I'd bought some yarn and was making a shoe, and she was really quite perplexed until I realized what word I was using and corrected myself. I was able to make a joke of it, in my broken Italian, which was a big breakthrough for me - as I have a slippery at best grasp of the language, being able to communicate humor is a huge deal. Last night, also, when Armida picked me up after I spent a day at Assisi, I was a tad late, and I joked that it was all because of my friends who walk too slowly, but of course I would have been on time if it hadn't been for them. I feel like I'm making big steps forward; I know I'm still far away from fluency, but I'm beginning to feel confident that I will get to that point.

Assisi was pretty amazing. It was my first trip taken independently of the school, so when everything worked out (for the most part, at least) it was so satisfying. We left at 7:00 in the morning, but with the train ride and stops we didn't arrive until about 10:00. Once in Assisi, we walked and walked and walked, all day. Assisi is built on the top of a hill (which meant everywhere we went was either straight up or straight down), looking down over a vast sweeping valley. It rained all morning, but by afternoon there was just a heavy fog, and the view into the valley was gorgeous; the clouds were billowy and dark, and the air was refreshingly sharp. We went to four of the five churches, though we managed to find the fifth right before we had to take the bus back down into the valley to the train station to come back to Viterbo. In the Basilica, a BEAUTIFUL church to St. Francis practically at the top of the hill on which Assisi is built, we had a bit of an adventure.

Though we had noted "gee, there are an awful lot of Germans here," we did not suspect anything out of the ordinary. We were on the top level of the church, with tall, vaulted ceilings soaring overhead, painted brilliant colors, and murals along the walls depicting the life of St. Francis. About to leave, we suddenly noticed that they were setting up instruments at the front, including several xylophones. Now, xylophones are always good, so we decided to stay and hear some music. We found seats pretty close to the front, and got settled in to listen. After waiting half an hour, however, the music still hadn't started, and about 10 tour groups made up solely of Germans had arrived. But just as we were getting impatient and thinking of going, someone came to the microphone, and began to speak. In German. It took me a moment to realize that; my first thought, when I did not recognize a single word he was saying, was "that had really better not be Italian." When he'd finished, everyone around us got out little books, stood up, and began to sing. In German. We had inadvertently stumbled upon a German service. In Assisi, Italy, in the Basilica of St. Francis. It was awesome.

We stayed for about 20 minutes. The speaker was fascinating to watch; though I couldn't understand anything he was saying, he made animated gestures and I could get some ideas of what he was talking about. He appeared to be talking about the life of St. Francis, as he continually pointed to the murals. At one point everyone in the church turned to look at something on the back wall, and, perplexed, we turned also, pretending that we had some idea what everyone was looking at. At first we were shaking with silent laughter at the hilarity that we had accidentally been caught in a German service; after a while of watching and listening, however, it was no longer as hilarious as incredible - it was so fascinating that we were part of some sort of pilgrimage to Assisi by thousands of Germans to hear this sermon or lecture.

I would say that that was the highlight of my day, getting to listen to that service. Amazing.

The puzzle pieces fit together slowly

Saturday morning Armida had to work at 8:00, so although I didn't meet my classmates till 8:45, I came to Viterbo an hour early and walked through the back streets, reveling in my newfound ability to navigate them with relative ease. However though I can get from place to place, I am hardly familiar with the streets, and constantly discover new wonderful things. So on Saturday morning I walked through the medieval quarter of Viterbo, down one cobblestone street after another, when I came on this little shop. The cobblestone streets and stone buildings, though beautiful, give a drab and cold feel; this burst of color seemed to fill the whole alley. I literally was staggered by it, not only because of the warmth from it, but because it was a place I already knew.

Before I came to Italy, I had found a picture (taken by the lovely Deirdré Straughan, on her website Beginning with I) that I looked to for encouragement as I got more and more nervous. It was taken in Viterbo, and to me it represented everything I hoped for in this adventure. Look at the picture: it's identical to the shop I found. So when I came on this patch of color it was a breathtaking moment. I thought, I'm here, I've reached the place I've dreamed about. And it's even more than I had hoped for.

And then, to the train station. I met my Sanskrit class there, and Ms. Vicini gave us our tickets. We were off to a museum with an exhibit called "Passagi in India: ieri e oggi," "Journey in India: yesterday and today." And because that isn't cool enough, the museum is in Rome. My first time on this adventure to go to Rome. And now I'm not just a tourist - admittedly I'm still a tourist to Rome, but I'm not a tourist in Italy. I'm here learning the language and the culture, and living the Italian way. I won't deny that that put a certain jaunt in my step among the masses of foreigners clogging the streets.

The museum was an exhibit of paintings made by two explorers in India about 200 years ago, displayed next to photographs of the same places. The paintings were gorgeous, but I loved the photographs - the colors were much richer, and many of the photos much more dramatic. The idea of the exhibit was awesome; the contrast between the photos and paintings was fascinating. Some images were nearly identical, whereas others were barely recognizable as the same place. I particularly liked one pair which depicted a temple in the distance. The painting showed only the temple in a vast sweeping landscape, but the photograph was of a busy street bursting with cars and people and ads. A patch of trees was nearly hidden behind the buildings, and in this patch of trees, barely visible, was the temple. It was a beautiful contrast.

Also in the exhibit were a few statues - I would have liked to see more. I was taken by was one that had been badly defaced, but still retained the movement and the energy. It was of Vishnu and his female counterpart Lakshmi being carried by their "vehicle" which took the form of a person. Vishnu's head had been broken off, but Lakshmi and the vehicle were still whole and beautiful. All three bodies were in movement and seemed to convey a joyous mood. The statue was of brown stone, which emitted a certain warmth that I found particularly attractive.

After the exhibit, we were let loose into Rome for 3 glorious hours. We were to stay within the triangle formed by the museum, the Piazza Tritone, and the Spanish Steps. So I set out with two classmates to explore Rome. In our defense, we had fully intended to stay within the triangle, so when we somehow ended up at Piazza Venezia (WAY outside the triangle), we were rather surprised. However once we had gotten a taste of Rome outside the ordained borders, we were hooked. For lunch we went to a supermarket rather than to a tourist-infested restaurant. We took our purchases (which included a box of chocolate icecream bars, of course) and sat at the base of Trajan's Column to eat. The Column is amazing. It's about 100 feet tall, with a Latin inscription at the base, and carvings all the way up. I think they depict a war, since there were lots of shields and weapons and ships, and a few castles here and there. Sitting at its base and eating my authentic Italian supermarket food... so cool.

The Spanish Steps were crowded as I hadn't believed possible. I loved it. I would have thought I'd hate that many people bumping into one another and pushing and shoving and yelling to one another over all the voices and taking photos, but it was so cool. From every direction came a different language, people posing for photos with the steps in the background, kids playing in the fountain, a giant jumble of everything and everyone. Before coming back to Viterbo on the gorgeous 90-minute train ride, I got to see the Tevere - the Tiber. Dozens of flickering trees line the banks, and the bridges that cross it are all gorgeous. Somehow, although the water is brown and sludgy, the Tiber seems so clean - perhaps just because of the trees, or because the air is clearer away from the fumes in the piazzas, it is beautiful.

Upon returning to Viterbo, I made my first completely-in-Italian phone call, to Armida to ask if I could stay in Viterbo and go to dinner there. Without the benefit of hand gestures, a phone call was a daunting prospect. However it went over remarkably well! I asked and she seemed really happy that I was going out with my friends, and told me to call her when I wanted to be picked up. I understood everything she said, amazingly.

Listening to and speaking in Italian is really strange. I have not yet reached the point where I hear Italian that I actually understand; I can translate a lot of what I hear quickly into English, so I know what's being said to me most of the time, but it takes me a moment. Constructing Italian sentences is just that - building them up. It's like a puzzle, and getting the right tenses and genders is putting the puzzle together correctly, or correctly enough that a picture can be recognized. As with hearing Italian, the words I say don't really mean anything to me - they're just tools by which I can communicate. I can't wait until I no longer need to mentally translate into English what I hear and even what I say in order to understand. But I don't doubt that that's a long way off. I'm content, though, with my current level of mastery. Last night as Armida drove me home, I was able to tell her all about my day, using both the imperfect and perfect tenses. My Italian class studied those tenses all week, so it was really thrilling to be able to put them to use outside of the classroom. Actually, structuring my sentences isn't really the hard part; the biggest challenge I have in communicating is the vocabulary. While a lot is similar to English and I am able to make up a few words here and there, there are so many words I don't know, and I am unable to express many thoughts because of that.

I've spent all afternoon procrastinating on an English paper to write this. Fun though that has been, I rather want to have something to turn in tomorrow in class, so I'll away with me now to get started on it. I hope you're all doing wonderfully, and not too bogged down in schoolwork or jobs.

Much love.