E Allora C'era Ischia

We were very tired, we were very merry, we went to Ischia, Friday on the ferry. Not quite as poetic as Millay put it, but lovely all the same.

After dodging the gypsies, trash, and homeless that line the streets of Naples the way dust covers those of Rome, we boarded the boat to Ischia. The sun shone bright, the wind swept our hair, and the rocking of the boat sent me into the fetal position, clutching my bag for dear life, as though a Longchamp tote could be my solid ground. While the porcelain express was not needed, the last leg of the ride seemed endless.

That is, until we were met with the simplicity of colorful houses on the water and shops with hand painted signs; a world that moves to the gentle, metronomic swaying of the masts of the boats that line its docks.

Ring Hostel was not on the water, but rather up and around several winding streets that we would later zoom through in a packed sedan-sized mini van packed with 16 hungry travelers.

The writings on the wall immediately told us we were not at any ordinary hostel. This was a home-away-from-home, complete with free sheets, internet, breakfast in the morning, kitchen, a communal living room and rooftop, and an outstanding family-owned restaurant. The walls were painted with words of thanks and praise from former guests and each person we met, guests and staff alike, spoke to us as though they had known us for years.


The beach around the corner was equally as welcoming as we rode its crashing waves and scampered around its sand as the sun set over the breakwater. After a long day of travel and sun, we were in need of a delectable carb-filled dinner, and boy, did we get it.

Mama and Papa's restaurant is just a short ride from the hostel, but I wondered if I would get there alive. As I mentioned before, 16 of us squeezed into a small van that almost didn't start. Lorenzo (hotel owners' son) sang "Tuo far'Americano" as he swirved, sped, and stalled all the way to the restaurant, occasionally swearing and telling us to duck when he saw the Polizia.

Home-made wine, calamari fritti, and hand-made spinach raviolini al ragu quickly calmed my nerves. We dined at a family-style table, taking up half of the main dining room. This was just the beginning of what would become the best night we have had abroad.

In Italian 2 we learned about Italian discotecas. I knew nothing until Friday night. We walked into a bar with a dance floor that featured a grand piano, an old man, and a synthesizer in the corner. We danced to everything from Italian jams to Italian-style Frank Sinatra to a rough-cut "All Night Long" complete with grumbled lyrics and a belted chorus. We were just about the only people in the place, but we kept it open until they scrubbed the floors at 3. When we finally made our way up the hill to the hostel, we were happy, tired, and ready to crash before a Saturday of thermal therapy.

Negombo was our destination the next day. We spent hours dipping in and out of the 27 + pools, saunas, and fountains, all of which were heated by the volcanism of the island. Some were in caves, others constructed above ground in the form of fountains and waterfalls, and still others sculpted into the landscape. The heat of the pools more than made up for the slight lack of heat in the air (naturally, it was the one cloudy day.) I am sad to admit that I could guess the temperature of each pool within two degrees of their actual temperatures. Here's to the life skills one can acquire as pool director.

Soaked and exhausted we headed for another round of bat-out-of-hell driving and homemade goodness. We ended up turning in after dinner to recharge before another short day of exploring Forio (the area in which we stayed) and the trip home, which now seemed to be a world away.

We opted for the hydrofoil for round two, a much wiser (but slightly more expensive) decision for those prone to sea sickness. We made it to Naples in almost half the time and were whisked to Naples Centrali by a rude and angry cab driver who had no problem dodging tour buses, driving on the tram tracks, and almost taking out a small child in a stroller. We held on for dear life screaming all the way. I wanted to continue my screaming (and add a few kicks for good measure) as the train carried us back to Rome and all of the reading and writing that the AUR has graced me with.

Check out my pictures to see more. Tips to follow.

Un Giorno Alla Spiaggia

Miles of tracks morphed into seaside as we approached Santa Marinella beach; towels, sunscreen, and the anticipation of relaxation packed in our bags. After a week of classes that proved to be just as much work as those at hour home institutions, we were all ready for some one-on-one time with the sun. Palm trees swayed as the water of Mare Tyrhenno lapped gently onto the powdery black and tan carpet that embraced our bodies as we collapsed onto our towels.

Just forty minutes outside the city, Santa Marinella was paradise. The water was an aquatic autumn, warm enough to lure you beyond your tiptoes (which you could still see far beyond shore, just like Long Island Sound, right?), but with a chill that sent you back to your towel to dry, warm up, and repeat. It's funny how assigned readings on Crassus and Pompey seem a little less boring when your body is being pumped with vitamin D.


Two playlists, five chapters, three swims, and four tanning flips later we returned home to book tickets to Ischia for the more of the same, Naples style. More to follow our upcoming weekend of hot springs, castles, and volcanism.

Dalla morte ci è vita

After spending all of yesterday fending off a cold, I ventured to the Catacombs of San Callisto this morning with the Italian Culture Club.

We traveled down an archaic set of stairs to what was only the second of five layers of the catacombs. We were lead through a small fraction of the 15 miles of graves, all of which have not yet been excavated. I learned that what was the first official cemetery of the early Christians had been discovered only to be forgotten again until archaeologist Giovanni Battista de Rossi began excavations in the 19th century. It was amazing that such a vast expanse of bodies of popes, saints, and loved ones could have ever been forgotten.

The bodies had been removed from the part that we toured and I couldn't help but feel badly for the bodies who got the short end of the rope - you thought you found your eternal resting spot, well, tough luck, looks like we're going to have to move those bones of yours so the tourists can get through. Noseyness trumps death. I almost picture their bones in some discarded shoe box in the visitor center's basement. Nike, perhaps. Hopefully they threw in a rosary as an apology.

They even cleared out St. Cecilia for us. The move went a little better for her. After being buried a martyr in her cubiculum in the catacombs, she was moved to a tomb in the Basilica instead of the aforementioned shoe box fate. Maybe we're the ones breaking her heart and shaking her confidence daily. (I couldn't resist.)

We were lead through the papal crypt which still contained the original inscriptions of popes including St. Pontianus, St. Anterus, etc.

There were several frescoes still in tact (barely) and apses perfectly sculpted for the family remains that they harbored. We saw those of the Raising of Lazarus and several others with Christian symbols.

Perhaps the saddest part of the tour was realizing why so many of the rectangles dug into the volcanic rock were significantly smaller than their neighbors. We were told that 30 percent of children born during the 3rd century died, thus requiring the abundance of small shelves before me.


As we concluded our walk through the cool narrow halls, we ascended toward the daylight, realizing that the surrounding fields that had previously appeared to be mere grazing grounds for the neighborhood sheep, were actually proof of the life that can grow even atop so many miles of death.

(I apologize for the lack of pictures from within the catacombs, they were not permitted.)

Tips for future visitors:

1. Try to arrive earlier in the day as it gets progressively crowded as the day goes on.
2. The tours are done by language, after getting your (5 euro) ticket, wait in the open area for your language to be called.
3. The tour is not long, a half hour tops.
4. The 118 bus stops right outside the entrance (though the buses are few and far between), the 75 connects nicely to the 118 before the Circus Maximus.
5. Listen when they tell you not to take pictures. Don't be the stupid American tourist that so many people expect us to be.
6. No matter what your religion, take in what they are telling you about Christianity as it pertains to the catacombs. They are educating you, not trying to convert you.
7. Bring a sweater, it is obviously much cooler underground.
8. For those claustrophobic travelers, there are some tight spaces during the tour. Mentally prepare.
9. Obviously, be respectful of the dead that surround you as well as the many nuns and priests that will be present. (Disrespect is one of those things that transcends the language barrier.)

Oh Venezia...

This post is coming a little later than I would have liked, I suppose I am merely falling into the Italian, "It can wait until tomorrow" mindset.

The watery labyrinth that is Venice is just as enchanting as it is confusing. We began our adventure at night having spent two hours settling a hostel(/hostile) dispute...literally and figuratively. We had reserved a room in a hostel only to find out that all of us could not stay - apparently European hotels work differently than those in America. Their rules are so strict that police come around every night to collect the passport numbers of all hotel guests. Squeezing in an extra person, or failing to record all numbers results in being shut down for 6 months. We spent quite some time searching for another room for the two that couldn't stay at the lovely Hotel Giovannina...more on that later.

So, after finally finding a room, we set off on the 1 euro train into Venice. Seven minutes later I stood on the steps of the train station completely agreeing with Fran Leibowitz (author) when she said, "If you read a lot, nothing is as great as you've imagined. Venice is - Venice is better."

Night undoubtably makes the world more spectacular, but I am not sure that Venice needed this leg up. Before me, lights from waterfront cafes and canal-side villas met the waves from passing water taxis and buses. Italian opera music bounced off the arches of the stone bridges as the music's source passed through in a gondola, the rich sound filling the hollow arc and carrying down the canal.


We boarded a water bus and headed towards Piazza di San Marco where we were met with the festive glow of glass, mask, and watercolor vendors, each insisting that their products were the best...the real best was yet to come. We settled into dinner at a sidewalk restaurant where the water and wine tasted like silk and the pasta settled gently alongside the butterflies in our stomachs. Four of us decided to take advantage of the music that is played nightly in the center of the square. The music that emanated from the two, five-piece orchestras positioned next to each other during their nightly jam session made the 15 euro sitting fee (because it always costs to sit) well worth it. One started with "Memories" only to be followed by its neighbor's rendition of "The Music of the Night" as the waiter set down our tray of gelato, wine, and chips. The music floated up to the stars as tears fell at our table - the sound, the setting, the novelty of this floating world was overwhelming.

When we had eaten, listened, and danced to our hearts content, we headed back to Mestre (the town just outside Venice, where we were staying). After being told that no one really knew if a bus was going to come, public transportation pulled through for us, bringing us home around 3:00 am. We soon found out that this was unacceptable.

As we approached our hotel, we noticed that the lights were out and, alas, the door was locked. We rang the bell growing more frantic with each push and almost melted down as a stranger on a bicycle laughed at us and said "e chiuso, buona notte." (It's closed, have a good night.) It was closed indeed, but we were not stranded; a large Greek man came to the door with a stern look on his face, in unison we pleaded, "WE ARE GUESTS HERE, PLEASE LET US IN!" Like a parent who's children have violated curfew, he gave us "the look" before explaining that the hotel has a curfew of 1:00 am, a curfew which we were not told about. He was forgiving and kind and insisted that we call him "Uncle George." As it turns out, he hates the man who checked us in ("He has no friends here.") and blamed him for our Giovaninna faux pas. With our tails still slightly between our legs, we scurried upstairs to get a few hours of sleep before our next excursion.


We began our second Venetian day with a free tour provided by our school. The guide was a native Venetian who was able to effortlessly guide us through the maze, stopping occasionally to point out good gelaterias and to explain the various window shapes and other such architectural features that tell the story of Venice's past and development as the water rises and the city expands. She explained the city's attempt at solving the ongoing flooding problem.

Forty years ago, they began an experimental, irreversible process of digging dikes to redirect some of the water - this risk, it turns out, is helpful, but is not enough to save the city. The latest plan is to make a series of floats to put under the city - revolutionary she said, but so was the idea of going to the moon. I didn't understand the full implications of the flood until my gondola ride revealed doorways that have been cemented shut in an effort to postpone the inevitable for a few more years and water seeping under the doors of some unfortunate houses.

As the guide left us, we headed toward a main shopping street (S.Rocca) where we discovered a genuine glass maker and her store. She and her mother-in-law ran the shop; she made the beads, jewelry, etc. throughout the day and late at night right in the store. We must have spent 500 euro collectively in the two hours we spent with her. She even fired up her equipment to show us how to make, shape, and decorate beads for jewelry.


Paola (her name) began by studying languages at a local university only to find out that it was not her true passion; she decided that glass making was her love and relocated to a university in Murano where she spent two months learning the techniques of her art. She has been continuing her education for the 15 years since and now spends her life doing what she loves. She said her English should be better given her prior language training, but then laughed saying that she obviously made the right choice. She also met her husband at school - he blows the glass for some of the larger pieces that cost upwards of 200 euro.

After we left Paula, we wandered through other glass shops, finding few places of comparable beauty. When we could not look at any more glass, we got gelato and headed home for our newly assigned curfew. We thought we would be going to bed early, Uncle George quickly changed our plans. Melanie and I spent two hours in the lobby as he had us look through pictures of him with previous guests and read aloud letters from friends he has made at the hotel throughout his life. After his wife died in Greece, he could not bear to stay as he "saw and heard her everywhere," so he set off for Italy and started the hotel/hostel. Our conversation consisted almost, okay, entirely of him saying "What I want to say about life is..." and counting several lessons on our fingers, carefully tucking our fingers into our palms with each lesson. He was a good man who measures the success of his life in the friends that he makes. We had to respectfully decline his breakfast invitation as we had to get an early start in the morning for our gondola ride and train home, but felt privileged to have met such a kind and genuine individual. We have since sent him a postcard and picture of us to add to his adored collection.


The gondola ride gave us a whole new perspective on the city. We learned that boat slips are like assigned parking spaces, they are achieved by money, family, and inheritance. As with so many things, they are extremely hard to come by, but essential to the Venetian lifestyle. We floated through the canals, under bridges, and even took a cruise on the grand canal, smiling for the tourists aboard passing water buses. Our gondoleer let us all take turns steering the banana-shaped boat (it is not easy) and gave us a fairly thorough Itanglish (a strange and enchanting mixture of Italian and English that is remarkably understandable) tour of the city.

As we boarded the train we were both exhausted and happy having found a city which beauty far surpasses any other place I have encountered. See the pictures below for more details.

Here are my tips and advice for future Venetian travelers:

1. When looking for a hotel, compare prices in and outside of the city - the best deal differs depending on the city.
2. If you are going to stay outside of Venice, Mestre (or Mestra) is a good choice. Giovannina gets a bad rep on reviews, but we found it clean and just what we needed. It is a one star hotel, but it has clean sheets, beds, towels, etc. (And a really nice owner who will help you with everything if you are nice to him in return.)
3. The ride in from Mestre is 1 euro and takes about 7 minutes. You can buy your ticket from the magazine sellers.
4. If it is past 11:50 pm and you are still in Venice, take the N1 bus out, it comes hourly.
5. If you are going to be in the city all day, buy the all day boat pass for 13 euro, otherwise, each ride is 6 euro and it adds up.
6. If you know where you want to go, map it out before you get into the city. You will still get lost as many streets just aren't on the map, but it will help you more than just going cold turkey.
7. For gondola rides, get as far away from Piazza di San Marco as possible - EVERYTHING is more expensive there. Don't pay more that 70-80 euro for a ride.
8. Don't pay more than 1 euro for a small gelato. Apparently this is a big issue for the locals, if tourists pay more, the prices go up, if you give your business to the cheaper ones, it brings the price down on all of the other ones. (Even my English major self can understand this economic trend.)
9. Genuine glass is all over the place near S. Rocca. It is even better if you find a store where they are making it. (Buying stuff made in China hurts the Murano industry.)
10. While they tell you that you have to have reservations at the Murano glass places, you don't always.
11. The music at night in Piazza di San Marco is worth the exorbitant prices.


12. If you don't like pigeons, steer clear of P. San Marco in the morning. They are everywhere and for some reason, people like it. Gross.
13. There are great pastries by Calle Laca before the bridge.
14. Venetian pizza is not as good as other Italian cities because brick ovens are not allowed.
15. Don't stand on the steps leading to the water. #1. The water is dirty. #2. They are super slippery.
16. The city is far more romantic than Paris. Don't go if you are single, missing someone, or going through a break-up. On that note, if you do go, try not to hate the couples that are there.

Venezia

Here are the pictures from my Venetian weekend. Post to follow.

La Notte Bianca

Rome didn't sleep last night. In Piazza Venezia, traffic stopped as the music started for the thousands of people that had come from across Europe for La Notte Bianca. Bars, restaurants, stores, museums, monuments, and public transportation stayed open all night as we wandered through the city.

We began walking through Trastevere, an area around our house but soon hit Piazza Venezia, where the people swarmed around a concert stage and moved throughout the streets going in and out of gelaterias and museums. The Trevi Fountain glowed in the midst of the crowd, as hundreds of people broke its surface with coins, thus affirming their return to Rome (as the legend goes).

We had no real goals but to wander, and wander we did. We made it up and down Via Del Corso, sometimes being pushed, sometimes pushing, dodging our tipsy companions.

When we began our walk back, the crowd was thinning, but the party showed no signs of being over. The music still blared at a cannoli stand across from ruins of the forum, and the normally shadowed streets of Rome shone white.

Foti

Here is a link to some of my pictures thus far. Still no wireless at home, but I was able to get a signal at school. Enjoy!


p.s. A huge thank you to Ken for the Blue Guide. It has put other guide books to shame. I carry it with me everywhere.

Verametè è grande

The Italians' Tomb of the Unknown Warrior puts Arlington to shame. When the good old 44 bus pulled up in front of it, my jaw dropped. Ours is solemn and definitely special in its own way, but here, it is both solemn and glorious. The limestone buidling at the foot of the Capitoline Hill, is topped with gladiators on chariots. The Vittoriano in Piazza Venezia was originally made for King Vittorio; their "Unknown Warrior" is buried inside it. It has steps on which you may not sit or play and flags flying all around it. There are two eternal flames and several guards.

I have seen more Piazze in two days than I have seen in my 19 years of life. Here, however, the plazas are not the American "stick a fountain in the sidewalk and call it a plaza." They have such character and imporatance. Yesterday we went to Piazza di Spagna and saw the Scalinata della Trinita dei Monti (Spanish Steps). While it was packed with tourists (which I guess I am too, cringe), it was beautiful. We climbed all 137 of them and saw the Piazza della Trinita dei Monti and its curch. It is an incredible view. Every rooftop has a garden, and the cobblestone streets that weave between Medeterranean colored buildings seem to go on forever. We spent the day meandering around above the steps and ended up in front of the Basilica which I will need an entirely different day to fullye explore. We then proceeded on to the massive Stazione Termini, the Romans' Union Station, if you will. It is complete with Metro, trains, and buses.

Despite our exhaustion from the day's walking, we were able to muster up the energy to go out. We went to Campo de Fiori, a night life hot spot. While there were a lot of Americans, there were just as many Italians. My gauge of the authenticity of my activities is generally measured by the above ratio. I figure if I curse the Cherry Blossom tourists, the Romans must curse us. And, judging from some of the faces I have gotten, this guess is not far off.

Regardless, we had a great time. We met up with other students and some of the AUR resident students who did our orientation, so they were able to give us tips and such.

After a night out, today seemed to start a little slower...but, we still managed to welcome our new room mate (who had visa issues and had to pay an extra $1000 to get here!) We also headed to the Colosseum. I was floored.

We were in the middle of congratulating ourselves for using the bus, tram, and Metro successfully when we looked up to find the largest, most impressive structure I have ever seen. The stone robbers who ruined part of it are real jerks because in its glory, it must have been unspeakably phenomenal, not that it isn't now.

What's more is that it is surrounded by ancient ruins. Around it is the Temple of Venus and Roma with pillars that look like they are glowing, the Arch of Constantine, the remains of the baths, the Palatine, and the Forum. We walked around giving it all a once over and immediately decided that each portion would need its own day.

A funny thing happened on the way to the forum (I couldn't resist), I tripped on the cobblestone and face-planted in front of the Arch of Titus. Laughter really does transcend the usual language boundaries.

Thank goodness for Latin, I had too much fun reading inscriptions. To see the Temple of Julius Caesar and walk on the Via Sacra is more than any Latin student can hope for. There is still excavation going on; I of course wanted to hop the fence and start digging but as it turns out, I was not allowed to. (Where is Kyle when you need an archaeologist?)

So, exhausted and overwhelmed, we returned home. Il più che vedo, il più mi piace (the more I see, the more I like.)

What struck me as interesting during my explorations is both the contrast between old and new and the coexistance with it. While I marveled at the Colosseum, people whizzed by with their Vespas and scholiosis cars (my name for the omnipresent hatchback-style cars.) They use their cell phones and wireless internet right beside ancient ruins. The antiquity of the city is very much a part of their culture and pride, yet they still live in the modern world. In my opinion, this is what sets Rome apart from every other city I have experienced. The S.P.Q.R. (Senatus Popolusque Romanus "The Roman Senate and People") from the ancient Roman Republic is still on trash cans, bill boards, grates, and cabs across the city.

Buona sera!

Mi piace molto

I am here safely. Alive and well. No lost luggage, no immigration issues (they didn't even bother stamping me in), no major issues to date. I have four room mates (maybe another one today) and a lovely newly rennovated apartment. There are two double bedrooms, two single bedrooms (I am in one), a kitchen, living room, dining room, two full baths, a foyer, and a deck that wraps around the apartment. I live on Gianicollense near Trastavere. We don't have a land line or internet set up yet, but we should soon. (I am writing from campus.)

Soon started as "domani" (tomorrow), and then turned into "in the next two days", and ended as "by the end of the week." It seems these Italians have their very own time schedule. While starting my permit to stay process today I found that no one had bothered to print the 1000 something papers in alphabetical order. It took 15 minutes to find 3 sheets of paper. Awesome.

I have decided that this whole slower lifestyle is a result of the lower voltage. The lights are dimmer, the hairdrying is slower - the daily process takes a little longer. It is like Rome makes its own romantic lighting. Where we curse our luck when our 80 watt bulbs do not reveal every detail of our faces in the mirror, every paper in our office, here, it is not quite so sterile. It has ambiance, personality.

Despite graffiti on some of the walls, okay, all of them, it is really quite charming. For the most part, everyone has been friendly. I am happy to report that I know enough to order paninis, gelato, and metro passes. If there is anything else one could need in life, let me know. The paint is a little chipped, the shutters are left open all day, the people saunter, but who really cares?

So, here are my discoveries thus far:

1. The reason the body odor is so horrific is because the showers are so cold, that no one can stand to stay in them long enough to be properly cleaned.
2. There is no love for the Americans at dinner time. Order in English and get on with it.
3. Uses of "prego": you're welcome, hello, come here, hold on a minute, follow me, I see, stop trying to talk to me in choppy Italian, you stupid girl.
4. Pointing + "prego" = communication

(I'll post pictures when my laptop gets internet.)