So What's a Conversation Partner and Should I be one?

Sunset over the salt flats in Sicily

After I returned home from Italy I wanted to give myself time to decompress and re-acclimate before I tried writing about my experiences as a whole. Now, 6 weeks back into the US I'm still looking back fondly on my time in Italy nearly every day. 

Regardless of what happens on any lengthy trip, it's almost sure to be a life changing experience - and it certainly was for me. 

Before I left for Italy someone asked me why I thought it was important to embark on such an experience. I've already traveled abroad, what could I possibly gain from teaching in a secondary school in Italy for 3 months? I replied that I wanted to view the world from another person's perspective - to almost literally live in someone else's shoes (which was true a couple times when I actually had to borrow other people's shoes!). It's so easy to get comfortable in our own version of the human experience - to stay in our own little lives, in our own little towns, in our own little cultures. To break out of that mold and experience something wholly novel is a formative undertaking. 

Flowering Mimosa Trees in Sicily

The Organization

I participated in a program called Conversation Partners through Connecticut-based Geovisions. They have multiple programs, including Conversation Corps (in which you live with a family and teach them English), but this one spoke to me the most. You travel to a  foreign country, are installed in some sort of professional environment (school, place of business, etc.), and teach people English. Some people teach police officers in South America, I taught teenagers at a school in Italy. 

What's important to understand is that every experience abroad is different and it really is what you make of it. I was recently in the market for purchasing a home and many people I spoke with stressed the importance of quality school districts near our location. This is, of course, an important building block in life - but it doesn't matter how great the school's statistics are if a student isn't dedicated to learning. An education is truly what you make of it - an uninterested student is going to struggle no matter the quality of the institution he or she attends. 

It's the same with volunteering programs. There are good reviews and there are bad reviews for every single organization out there. I wouldn't go so far as to say that Geovisions was a good or a bad organization to work with, they merely facilitate placement and expect you to make the most of it - which is precisely what both they and you should be there for. They aren't going to coddle you along every step of the way and acclimate you to the foreign culture, it's going to take a significant amount of effort and patience on your part to make your experience a fulfilling one. Whether or not it's a good experience ultimately falls on your shoulders. 

That being said, it will be difficult. There were a couple times I caught myself wondering what the hell I was thinking getting myself into this situation. But, ultimately, it's extremely satisfying to immerse yourself into a culture and struggle - and then to emerge victorious on the other side, having learned a new language and made friends halfway across the planet. 

There is in-country support if you need it, but on all counts the point is for you to figure it out yourself. 

Just two of the amazing people I met in Italy

On Living With A New Family

I had the rather unique experience of living with not one, but two families in Italy. I lived with my first family for one month in a smaller town about 10 minutes away from where I taught. I had my own space on the top floor of the house complete with my own bathroom and outside terrace - it was a wonderful space. The family had two children - one 12 one 4 - who were, for the most part, delightful to be around. Many times, however, it was quite a struggle to adjust to being in a house with small children after having lived on my own for so many years. As the youngest in my family, I've never really been around small children so it was bizarre to find myself living with one - and all the difficulties that present around a 4 year-old child. There are only so many days in a row one can be woken up in the middle of the night by a screaming child and retain one's sanity. But, it was a fun experience and I became very close with them. We went shopping together, made dinner together, and they dropped me off and picked me up at school everyday (it helped that one of the children was my student). 

I lived with my second host family for two months in the larger town, Civitanova, right near the Adriatic Sea. They also had two children, a 9 year old and a 17 year old. The family dynamic was much different - everyone was far more independent than my first family so it took some time getting used to the idea that I was going to be on my own much of the time. I needed to find my own way to and from school, sometimes made my own meals, and really had to entertain myself most often. This was also OK and I really enjoyed finding my way around. I often walked to the stores nearby to buy my own groceries and practice my Italian. I had a smaller living space, and I felt kind of awkward because it had displaced the oldest child from her room, but they were all so welcoming it was easy to adjust. 

Ruins of Agrigento in Sicily

On Teaching in a Foreign Country

Usually when you arrive in-country you are met by that country's liaison for the program and they help to get you adjusted with your family and wherever it is you'll be working. However, the weekend I arrived in Italy they had the snow storm of the century and the in-country liason was giving birth to her first child. So, when I arrived in Italy I didn't have an orientation - at all. My host family picked me up from a bus stop on the side of the street and took me home - not speaking a word of English, mind you. 

When I arrived at the school I was teaching in I also didn't receive much in the way of orientation. I had spoken with one teacher by email a few times before my arrival, so I met her, the other two English teachers, and the rest of the faculty...and then we started our classes. You really can just be thrown into the mix that quickly and it's up to you to figure out how to be the best asset you can in the classroom. 

The school in which I was teaching had no program for me - no agenda, no goals, no nothing. They had only had one tutor before and it didn't go very well, which, looking back on it isn't entirely surprising considering the complete lack of structure. Additionally, each class and each teacher you work with is vastly different. One teacher wanted me to participate in almost all aspects of the class as support while she led. She would give me ideas on what she wanted to talk about in the next class and I would go home and prepare a Powerpoint presentation or a game. Another teacher essentially ignored me while I sat in the back of the classroom until the last 30 minutes and then wanted me to teach my own independent lesson. Still another teacher thought I was her subsitute and expected me to lead the entire class on my own for the full duration of the period. 

Again, you never know what you're going to get until you're there. It's up to you to decide how you're going to make the best of a situation and then to leave it better than how you found it. I quickly realized that in my situation the best possible solution was Powerpoint presentations. It associated language with visual context and the children can read along with you. So I had a new presentation nearly every day, either tied into what they were studying or independent. About 90% of the time the kids loved it - and when it's fun, they don't even realize how much they're learning! When I first arrived the kids were so timid around me hardly any of them would speak. When I left I was having nearly entire conversations with many students all in English. It was so fulfilling! 

Before I left I also created an orientation for future tutors in the school. A simple set of documents outlining what they should expect from the school, some advice on the levels of each group of students, and some tips on what seems to work best in that school. I also provided some information about the best way to travel on weekends and where to get a good deal on a cell phone package - this is all about leaving the area better off than when you arrived. I know now that when the next tutor arrives at that school they will be that much more prepared because of my actions. 

Island of Burano in the Venetian Lagoon

Verdict

Am I happy I joined the program and spent three months in a foreign country teaching my native language? Yes. Would I do it again? Double yes.

I think the most important part of this type of experience is to go into with an open mind. You can't have too many expectations and you must be flexible. I know I could never have prepared myself for everything I encountered, but because I was willing to be flexible and accept new opportunities I had an amazing time. 

In fact, the school I taught at said I was welcome to return next year if I wanted - and woudn't that be a treat? 

Venice, Burano, and Murano

Gondolas along the Grand CanalThe last time I was in Venice was during the winter. It was overcast, bone-chillingly cold, and all-together rather dreary. Surprisingly, that doesn’t really diminish the city’s splendor. There’s just something magical about Venice and I think it’s one of the must-see cities in Italy for any first-time traveler. This time the weather wasn’t exactly ideal, but we managed to get nearly a full day and a half of partly sunny skies – and no fog, a veritable miracle for this coastal island.

Because my friend Z hadn’t yet been to Italy, we immediately made it a priority to get to Venice. Despite the glut of tourists, the mind-boggling labyrinth of alley-size streets and canals, and the never-ending supply of vendors trying to sell you their mass-produced knock-offs, there’s just something magical about the “City of Water.”

The iconic lamps in St. Mark's SquareThe Winged Lion of St. MarkOnce a trade capital of the world, Venice now survives almost solely on tourism – in fact there are fewer Venetians actually living within the city each year. Between the rising cost of living, the city slowly sinking into the sea, and the constant hum of the thousands of tourists that pour into the city every month, it’s just not that appealing anymore to the locals. There’s the diehards, of which you’ll see a few when you inevitably get lost on some tiny back street, but most of the people you see are tourists.

The Campanile in St. Mark's SquareThe view from our hotel near St. Mark's SquareStill, it’s great fun to just putter about the city, getting lost and browsing through shops, tasting a little tidbit here and there, and conversing with the shopkeepers. It’s even better when you speak Italian (even if it’s not the right dialect), because then they’ll want to bend your ear for as long as possible. As most travelers know, there’s no better way to get to know a city than to talk with the locals. You’ll get the best recommendations, the best prices, and it just feels so much more authentic to speak the native language with the people – especially when every other voice around you is English, German, French, or Japanese.

Because the weather was so sketchy last time I was there, I never made it out to the islands of Burano or Murano. The Venetian archipelago consists of many big and small islands, the most famous of which are Venice itself, Burano, and Murano (and Lido, but we didn’t get off the vaporetto there). Burano is most famous for its strikingly colored homes that encompass all shades of the rainbow, but it’s also historically known for its exquisite lace. Although there’s been an influx of mass-produced junk from China, if you look carefully you can still find the handmade creations from Burano’s residents. Like most artisan crafts, however, it’s a dying trade.

Z and I were lucky enough to stumble across a woman hand-tatting lace in her shop. She was quite delighted when we spoke to her in Italian, instead of English, and spoke with us for several minutes. She happily granted permission for me to take her photograph and I was even happier to record the moment. When we returned a short time later she had departed for the day to rest – what a lucky happenstance to have caught her during that short period of time!

The colors of the houses on the island of Burano are amazing. The community has managed to find a happy medium between a chaotic mish-mash of color and something truly psychedelic. I’m not sure I’d ever be interested in living in a lime green house myself, but it sure is fun to look at!

Elaborate glass sculpture in a piazza in MuranoMurano is world-famous for its glass-blowers. As kitschy as it is, it’s a must to go see a glass-blowing demonstration if you’ve never seen one before. Usually the artists just bust out a quick glass prancing horse, but this artist actually took the time to blow a quick vase to demonstrate the technique. I was quite impressed. I’ve taken a glass blowing class before and had quite a good time. I look forward to my next lesson in Annapolis this summer. Equally as impressive was the woman who provided a narration of the man’s techniques to the assembled audience. She provided commentary in English, Italian, German, and French, with a little bit of Russian and Japanese to boot – talk about a tongue twister! We were all mightily impressed and applauded her when she finished all the languages.

Glass lantern outside a cafe in MuranoThe glass horse and vase from the demonstrationI think Z and I both ended up buying most of our gifts for friends and family in Venice and Murano. It’s just so easy to find such amazing little trinkets and jewelry. I couldn’t resist buying myself a little glass clock and a jewelry dish on top of all my gifts for everyone else.

For just a quick 5 hours away by train from Civitanova, Venice was definitely one of my favorite destinations while I was in Italy. I’m not overly fond of the tourist traps that polka-dot the city, but it’s easy enough to steer clear of most of them (just stay away from St. Mark’s and the Rialto). I’m not sure if I’ll ever return. I know I won’t ever make it a point to return myself, now that I’ve seen Burano and Murano, but I don’t think I could resist showing the city off to another friend if they wanted to go. No matter how much it might drive you crazy, there’s something special enough about Venice that just keeps you coming back. 

Campagna (Countryside)

View of Civitanova Alta from my host family's country houseOfficially I’m now back in the United States – but according to this website I’ve still got several weeks of updating to do. The last month in Civitanova was simply so packed with traveling, visiting, and spending time with my host family and their friends that there simply wasn’t time to both edit photos and post updates.

For the last day of our Easter vacation we went out into the countryside near Civitanova Alta to the “country houses” of both my host family and of some family friends. When I first arrived in Italy these type of group gatherings were truly overwhelming. In all honesty it probably didn’t help that my first group gathering in Italy was a children’s birthday party in a small basement room. With that many screaming children running about it was pure torture – and I did little more than sit in a corner of the room waiting for it all to end so I could get out of there.

How we roll...But as I became more accustomed to Italian culture – and most importantly, learned more of the language – these parties became much more fun. Everyone is always so nice and so welcoming. It’s impossible to feel like a stranger in Italy because everyone is always trying to meet you, talk to you, help your practice your Italian or help them practice their English, invite you to an outing, etc. In the US it seems really difficult to break into established groups of friends when you move to a new area. In Italy it’s hard to not get involved with too many people so you still have time for yourself!

This is where the magic happensOn this particular day we went first to my host family’s house and then to their friend’s house to make pizza – a truly group affair in this country. Before I arrived in Italy I didn’t think that Italians really ate that much pizza. Much like most people assume Americans are constantly scarfing down cheeseburgers and French fries, I assumed it was a stereotype. But, no – not really. Italians really do eat that much pizza. And it’s the ideal party food. When a large group of Italians get together you can guarantee there will be at least 12 different kinds of pizza and enough to feed an army.

Also, Italians aren’t nearly as particular about their toppings as most people assume. Here in the US I’m always hearing in foodie circles about how, “Real Italians don’t do this” and “Real Italians don’t do that.” That’s just really not the case. Sure, there are traditional pizzas like margherita, cappriciosa, quattro stagione, neopolitano, etc. But in the last ten years far more diverse toppings have arisen – and yes I’ve seen every single one of these on a pizza: hot dogs, french fries, tuna and mayo, eggplant, zucchini, eggs, potatoes, and more. Now, some of these I’ve seen on pizzas in the US….but hot dogs?! I was truly blown away by that and French fries.

An Italian dinner tableBut first, at my host family’s country house, we had an amazing meal prepared by my host mother, Mariella, and her mother, Maria. We had brought back some amazing food from Puglia the day before and the two of them made quite the feast. We all sat around one of the biggest tables I’ve ever seen and devoured everything they prepared. While they were cooking, however, Angelo (my host dad) and I went out to do one of my favorite activities in all my time in Italy – forage wild asparagus. It’s the perfect time of year for it and after Angelo taught me how to spot the tiny little stalks within the dense thicket of the underbrush we found quite a nice handful. I love foraging – it’s like the modern day treasure hunt. I think we were probably out there for an hour or two, tromping around the trees and bushes, communicating in half-Italian, half-English, and becoming increasingly excited the more we found.

Foraged asparagusWild asparagus plantWe came back with enough for Mariella to make her amazing asparagus risotto later in the week. It was easily the best risotto I’ve ever had in my entire life.

After our foraging we came back for lunch with family and had some Pugliese lamb cooked with potatoes, tomatoes, herbs, and these little things called lampascioni. They are the bulb of a flower in the hyacinth family and are kind of like shallots, but have a very unique and distinct flavor.

She also made a dish of orecchiette, radicchio, walnuts, sausage, and cream that was truly out-of-this-world amazing. I am always surprised at how much radicchio  Italians eat, especially cooked since it’s so incredibly bitter after being heated, but this was a perfect utilization of its inherent bitterness. It worked so well with the creaminess of the pasta, the savory bite of the sausage and the crunch of the walnuts. This is definitely a dish I’ll be trying to recreate here at home.

After stuffing ourselves silly on this and several different types of wine from Puglia, we went over to the friend’s house to make pizza.

At some point I was standing outside drinking a glass of wine and someone asked me if I wanted to play bocce ball. I had never before played bocce ball, didn’t even remotely understand the rules, and everyone else playing spoke only Italian – so of course I said yes.

I teamed up with Simone, friend of the family and co-owner of said country house along with his adorable wife Giusi (pronounced “juicy” – yes, she really is this cute), against my host dad Angelo and another friend. I never imagined that throwing balls across a lawn could be quite so much fun! The true concept of the game isn’t nearly as basic as it seems – just trying to get your ball as close as possible to the original marker and keeping your opponents away, it involves some interesting strategy.

Plus, if you’re Italian it involves a great deal of arguing over whose ball is actually closer, how the other person cheated, why the person’s throw shouldn’t count, why you need to be able to throw again because some exigent circumstance prevented you from throwing the way you truly meant to throw, and on and on and on…. It was a riot. And, as the wine kept flowing freely it became even more fun as the afternoon went on.

Eventually Simone and I won – because we are, of course, true masters of the game. It in no way came down to pure chance or luck. It was all carefully planned strategy and inherent skill…

All in all by the end of the night I was so stuffed with great food and wine and had laughed and conversed with so many different people that it made most Thanksgivings pale in comparison. This was one of my favorite days spent in Italy – with good people, good food, and good wine. It makes all the challenges and obstacles one faces in assimilating into a foreign culture fade into the background for a brief moment, and makes you remember just how much fun it can be to celebrate life with a people who make a practice of celebrating life every day.

Ostuni, Cisternino, Noci, and Polignano a Mare

After departing Alberobello we headed further south to Ostuni – entering the heel of the boot of the Italian Peninsula. Ostuni is frequently referred to as the Citta Bianco because it’s houses and structures are almost entirely white. As a big fan of the color white in general (if I could my entire house would be white), I was happy for the opportunity.

Unfortunately, the weather wasn’t really cooperating and we were rained on for most of our time there. Nevertheless, the city itself is absolutely beautiful. Most of it really is a striking shade of white. I can imagine that with a backdrop of azure sky it would be breathtaking.

I, of course, found another ceramic shop loaded with handmade pottery from local artisans and couldn’t resist getting a perfectly white ceramic owl – or at least an interesting artistic interpretation of one. I’m really looking forward to getting back home and getting my hands into some clay. There’s so much inspiration here in Italy that I just can’t wait to start creating something new.

Because it’s so-called “shoulder season” for much of Italy, many of the shops and sites were still closed from the winter, so we essentially just walked around for a couple hours and grabbed some coffee.

After leaving Ostuni we went to a little town called Cisternino. In Puglia they have this custom of creating half-restaurant/half-butcher shops. You go to a meat case, like you would see in any supermarket, and select your meat and specific how you want it cooked. You pay for the meat by the pound according to the cut. Then, they go back to their kitchen, cook it, and bring it out to the restaurant portion of the place. I admit, it was a little bizarre, but I kind of like the idea of seeing exactly what you’re going to be eating before you order it. I had a steak with decent flavor, but it was a tad-overcooked for my liking.

After Cisternino we drove to Noci to stop for the night. Honestly, at this point I was kind of a bear. I was exhausted, grumpy, and feeling incredibly claustrophobic after being stuck in a minivan with 8 other people. By the time we got to the hotel I collapsed into bed and was out like a light.

The following morning I didn’t see much of Noci aside from that on the walk toward the minivan. It was Easter Sunday so the vast majority of the city was in church. I did see this crazy fish-fountain thing that was frightening to me, but seemed normal to everyone else. Leave it to Italy to have some freaky narwhale-shark looking creature in a piazza and everyone thinks it’s normal. Looks like a demon dolphin or something.

After Noci we headed north to Polignano a Mare, an amazingly beautiful city by the sea. I had thought we were simply driving back home to the Marche region, so when we pulled up to this rustic city on the sea I was amazed. The city itself is rather small, but the fashion in which it juts out of the sea creating these grottoes is just beautiful. Apparently, in the summer time there is restaurant in a series of grottoes carved out of the base of the rock. It’s all lit up with lanterns and candlelight and it is terribly romantic, according to the people I was with who’d visited before.

After a relatively quick bite to eat in Polignano we started our voyage back up north to Civitanova. The drive was interesting – something unavoidable if you’re in a minivan with three boy band-obsessed teenage girls. I’m pretty sure I know the lyrics to at least 4 different songs from The Wanted and One Direction after a few hours in the car with those girls.

So, Italian-Easter adventure complete, I feel completely blessed for having had the opportunity to visit such beautiful parts of the country. Italy has really started to grow on me and I can’t imagine not ever returning. I’m hoping that if I keep up on my Italian I can hopefully return more frequently and really start to enjoy the culture in depth.

Because, of course, three months in a country isn’t nearly in-depth enough…

Alberobello and Trulli Houses

Our second stop on the Easter weekend trip was in Alberobello in the region of Puglia. Alberobello is most famous for its large collection of trulli houses. A trullo house is a round dwelling with a conical top constructed from local materials – they are iconic of this region.

The houses provide contrast to the verdant landscape, but with harmony. It really is one of the most beautiful areas I’ve seen in Italy.

There are many stories about why the people of this region began building the trulli houses, but most seem to fall back on the theory that the houses managed to evade taxation. Most people have heard the colloquialism that in Italy, soccer is the second most-loved sport in the country, trailing right behind tax evasion. In fact, some estimates indicate that nearly 25% of Italians fail to pay their taxes.

The original trullo houses were constructed without mortar, so the idea is that they were dismantled whenever the tax collector came about. Seems like a lot of effort to go to to avoid paying one’s taxes, but to each their own, I suppose.

Typically one cone indicates on room, so a house with multiple cones typically has a room for each. Because of the construction style it was difficult to put windows into the houses, so they can be quite dark inside. Some of the houses also have subterranean levels, with the added benefit of the earth’s insulation to keep them cool in the summer and warm in the winter.

Many of the dwellings also have whitewashed symbols on the roofs with various meanings. Some of them are old astrological signs, others are Christian symbols adopted after the religion became popular in this area. Still others are old magical symbols warding off malevolent spirits or welcoming positive energy. My favorite is the tree that represents the connection between heaven, earth, and hell. I do not, however, believe heaven or hell are actual places, so I like to think that the tree represents our higher moral calling, our baser instincts, and the person we are every day.

The houses are now protected under the UNESCO World Heritage Site regulations, so they are usually well-maintained and rather beautiful. I like that the area has, for the most part, maintained its original character without being too diluted with modern buildings.

We walked around Alberobello for a couple hours and then had lunch at a subterranean restaurant. The door to the restaurant was absolutely miniscule and opened to the tiniest stairway – actually, it would be more accurate to call it a ladder. At any rate, I was terrified to see what type of coffin-like place we were entering – and quite pleased to see that it opened up into a cavernous restaurant completely in contradiction to the panic-attack inducing front door.

After Alberobello it was off to Ostuni, Cisternino, and Noci…

Fracchie

I think one is always aware that there will be vast cultural differences between another country and one’s native land. That awareness, however, doesn’t necessarily prepare you for the sight of 30 or so wooden cones the size of full size trees being lit on fire and drug down the street by children.

Yep. Viva Italia.

My host mother is originally from Puglia. When I first arrived in their house the beginning of March, we discussed Easter plans and possibilities. Z and I had already talked about going to Naples together for the long weekend, but when my host family told me about the incredibly unique celebrations in Puglia and presented me with the chance to see parts of Italy difficult for tourists, I had to jump at the chance.

We ended up spending an amazing weekend tooling around the southern Italian countryside in a big minivan with another family. Stops along the way included San Marco in Lamis, Alberobello, Ostuni, Cisternino, Noci, and Polignano a Mare. The first stop, in the little mountain town of San Marco in Lamis is where they hold the festival of Fracchie.

If you look for Fracchie on Wikipedia, you’re directed to a tiny little paragraph at the bottom of San Marco in Lamis’ page that says they tie bundles of sticks together, put them on small wagons, set them alight, and then race them around the town…apparently the author has never actually been to Fracchie.

Does this look like a “bundle of sticks” to you? Something you would set upon a “small wagon” and then “race” around the town?

I think not.

The cones varied in size from just two feet long to behemoths the size of large trees. Literally. The construction of the larger cones involves taking the trunk of a large tree, splitting it down the center multiple times (kind of like the end of a hot dog in the microwave too long), and then shoving other sticks into the openings. You can kind of see the construction in this picture here:

Some people also put decorative paper into the cone as well – because you want the stuff you light on fire and drag around town to be pretty, right?

The builders take great pride in their work, and for good reason – they’re judged. Each cone belongs to a group of some kind. They’re all numbered and are judged on the construction, how well they burn, and how well they roll down the street.

The smallest cones are for/from groups of children. Let me tell you, it’s an interesting sight to see 10 five year-olds all pulling on a rope with a two-foot burning cone on the other end. Definitely not something you’d ever see in the United States. The largest cones are pulled by large groups (15-20) of young men in their teens and twenties.

Oh, and every once in a while they stop the cone and beat it with another stick to help it burn better, also flinging hot coals soaring into the crowds of spectators. I swear I honestly don’t know how nobody catches on fire at this event.

And what is the point of all this festivity, you ask? Apparently it marks the procession of the Virgin Mary to Jesus’ tomb after he was crucified and the burning cones light her path. Every few burning cones that paraded down the street, there would be some kind of religious iconography depicting Mary, or monks chanting, or little girls dressed up as the Madonna, or a big freaky statue thing of the Madonna.

I honestly think they just do it to light stuff on fire and drag it through the streets, but to each their own.

Hey...who brought the American girl?The dozens of burning cones made the sky so hazy we could hardly see the moon and the air was so heavily laden with smoke and ash it made for an interesting evening. If you ever want to know what it feels like to smoke a carton of cigarettes, try visiting San Marco in Lamis on Good Friday. The next day we were dousing each other in Febreze to try and cut the stench of campfire. My camera smelled like smoke for two days.

Bizarre as it was and my paranoia of people spontaneously catching on fire aside, it was a pretty amazing event and I’m really glad I got to see it. Sure beats the hell out of all those tourist traps every other American seems to find themselves in when in Italy.

Bologna

In the Piazza MaggioreI wasn’t really sure what to expect from Bologna before going. I didn’t really know a whole lot about the town aside from the extremely old university, that they’ve supposedly got some great food, and it’s not usually mobbed with tourists like Rome, Florence, an Venice.

I admit, it’s a surprisingly cute town – and I especially liked that most of the walkways are covered since it decided to rain on us for a good part of the day.

Our first night in town we walked down to the Piazza Maggiore to see it at night. It was mobbed with people and illegal vendors hawking cheap wares – it was OK, but not really my cup of tea. On Sunday morning it was pleasantly bereft of people, which I greatly enjoyed.

After a little bit of searching we managed to find the tourist office in the square and then enjoyed a cappuccino in the square while planning our day. We planned to do this “see all the sights in three hours” walking tour touted by a brochure, but we were fairly quickly put off that plan by general laziness and the incessant drizzle.

Fountain of NeptuneThe far more interesting pigeonsThe Piazza Maggiore holds the rather famous fountain of Neptune, which was quite nice – but how many naked men in water does this country really need? Geez. I was far more entertained by the pigeons taking baths in the fountains. They were quite adorable and I spent my time watching them while Z went and checked out the enormous church.

We walked down a few side streets here and there and found ourselves at the Museo Archeologico di Bologna – which has one of the best collections of Egyptian artifacts in Europe. Z and I are both big fans of Egyptian history, so we ducked out of the rain for a  while to view the collection.

It was fascinating.

I’ve really never seen an exhibit quite so stunning. The artifacts were so beautiful and so well displayed. I think we could’ve easily spent hours in the museum. To think of just how old some of the pieces are…truly amazing.

The hieroglyphics on the tablet were beautiful and complex, the little statues were in amazing condition, and the fact that they had a complete sarcophagus, chest, and mummy in the back of the museum made it one of my favorite stops in Europe so far.

After the museum it had mostly stopped raining and we walked over to the rather ancient University of Bologna. It is one of the oldest universities in the world, founded in 1088. To be honest, I was expecting some great big monstrous structure on par with Italy’s cathedrals (and similar to the large buildings at universities in the US), but it was actually rather anticlimactic. It’s a series of smaller buildings that compose several city blocks of historic Bologna. Sadly, the area was also rife with garbage, beer and wine bottles, and tons of graffiti.

Most of the graffiti was horribly ugly, but some of it was a little interesting and provocative. We also discovered that students of the university apparently like to post flyers of their fellow academics – usually in unflattering or compromising positions with little captions about their potential for graduation or success in the world after graduation.

Many of them were amusing, some of them just plain strange. It’s certainly an interesting custom. I can see lots of hurt feelings and potential lawsuits happening in the US if it were to happen there.

After we finished walking around the university district we meandered back over to our hotel and asked the concierge for a lunch recommendation. He sent us down to a little pizzeria called La Rotunda – and it was delicious. I mean, truly, wonderfully delicious. It was the best damn pizza I’ve had since arriving in Italy. Fresh from the oven with full-bodied tomato sauce and just the perfect amount of cheese.

Now if only I could get pizza like that in the Marche region….

Surprisngly, this was before we discovered the restaurants that serve wine by the liter...We had an uneventful train trip back to Civitanova and stumbled into our beds exhausted from a whirlwind weekend. I had briefly considered not going to Bologna because of some recent health issues, but I’m really glad I put on my big-girl undies and soldiered through it. Just the Egyptian artifacts alone were enough to make me happy – but add in great pizza and wine to boot?

I think Bologna and I can be good friends from now on.

Ravenna

So far both of my big weekend travel trips were to cities I had already visited, albeit for brief periods of time (aside, of course, from my quick jaunt down the Amalfi Coast). This last weekend, however, was all uncharted territory – Bologna and Ravenna.

Although Bologna and Ravenna are both popular towns with interesting sights, they are not terribly popular tourist towns – or at least not to the scale of Rome, Florence, or Venice. So, although there are plenty of people around, they aren’t completely mobbed by tourists.

I decided to reign in my compulsive planning and let Zafiro take the lead on getting information about Bologna and Ravenna. I didn’t really know a whole lot about the cities and, to be honest, I just didn’t really have the energy to put a whole lot of effort into planning. Aside from booking the hotel and looking at a website or two, I left it all up to her. Thankfully, winging it went very well and we had a good weekend.

The trip to Bologna is fairly short, just a quick 3 hours or so on the train, and we left early on Saturday morning. After checking into our hotel (which was excellent, if you ever visit Bologna be sure to stay at the Starhotels Excelsior) we hopped back on the train for about 80 minutes to Ravenna, near the Adriatic Coast.

Ravenna, as I was told by Zafiro, is extremely popular for its mosaics….and how. I’m a big fan of art in general, in all its many forms, but I have a thing for mosaics in particular. Ravenna has them in spades. Not just simple, crude representations either – elaborate, breathtaking masterpieces.

We ended up buying this multipass-type ticket that included entrance fees to the Basilica di San Vitale, the Mausoleo di Galla Placidia, the Basilica di Sant Apollinare Nuovo, the Battistero Neoniano, and the Museo Arcivescovile. And we saw all of them in just a few hours, with the help of Ravenna’s handy-dandy free tourist bicycles. They’re hideous, slightly rusty, bright yellow monstrosities without gears, but they help you cover a lot of ground in a short time and, best of all, they’re free!

Our first stop was the Basilica di San Vitale. They had a lovely little courtyard with perimeters lined with old statuary pieces and tablets, along with a statue of some rather dapper looking Byzantine (?) gentleman in the center. His imposing nature was slightly compromised by the bird perched on his hat, but he was impressive nevertheless.

Because I hadn’t done a lot of research about Ravenna (read: none) and it’s mosaics, I wasn’t really sure what to expect. So, when I walked into the basilica and saw this:

You can imagine my surprise and wonder.

The mosaics covered the entire ceiling and much of the walls, broken only by a few masterfully painted frescoes that paled in comparison, despite their beauty. Although my religious background is pretty spotty, I was able to remember and recognize most of the scenes and people depicted.

Overall the basilica is definitely one of the most beautiful religious building I have ever seen.

Mausoleo di Galla PlacidiaThinking I had already seen the pièce de résistance, we walked over to the cross-shaped Mausoleo di Galla Placidia. My first sight upon entering the tiny structure was this splendid ceiling:

And it really only got better from there.

Thankfully, in most of these places pictures are allowed, but flash is, of course, prohibited. I wouldn’t dream of using flash to get a decent picture in an environment like that anyway, but many tourists are not so kind. (FYI: Next time you travel and are viewing something old, don’t be a jerk, turn off your flash – otherwise it ruins it for all of us when they ban photography entirely.) I was happy to get some photos to remember the mosaics, but it was incredibly difficult to get stable enough without my tripod to get clear photos.

Those I did get, though, are still a poor representation of how they look in real life.

Dante's TombAfter the Galla Placidia we discovered the free tourist bikes and pedaled our way over to Dante’s Tomb and the Basilica di Sant Apollinare Nuovo. Zafiro was keen on seeing Dante’s tomb because she’s a big classic literature buff, and I found it interesting as well. Unfortunately it was mobbed by a tourist group, but we waited until they took off to get some photos.

At the basilica we enjoyed some more mosaics – I was particularly amused by the three wise men. They were all wearing these leopard-print style pants and I couldn’t help but think of LMFAO’s Sexy and I Know It song where they sing “This is how I roll, Animal print pants outta control.” I’m pretty sure the original artists didn’t have that in mind, but I giggled to myself throughout the visit nevertheless.

The Three Wise Men - sexy and they know it. We paused for some sandwiches typical of Ravenna called piadina. They are composed of a kind of pita/tortilla-like cross of breads with all sorts of different fillings. I had one with porchetta and Z had one with spinach and prosciutto. Neither of them were particularly delicious, and I only ate about half of mine – instead choosing to take my calories in the form of a well-chilled Peroni (beer).

We headed over to the Battistero Neoniano after lunch. It’s a baptistery with an elaborate mosaic of John the Baptist baptizing Jesus on the ceiling.

At this point I was starting to get a little overwhelmed with all the churches and religious buildings. I had thus far avoided most churches since coming to Italy, and we had been going in and out of churches all day at this point. The mosaics and architecture are beautiful, that’s undeniable. But, as a person who doesn’t believe in a god or gods or supreme being or whatever, I become increasingly aggravated when continually presented with excess by an organization of people whose self-described purpose is to benefit humanity. With what? A building on every corner that took untold amounts of money to fund and decades to complete?

I realize that coming to a country like Italy might seem counterintuitive if I’m not a fan of religious excess, but there are far more natural beauties than manmade to be sure. I appreciate the art, the architecture, and the skill it took to build such elaborate places of worship – I just don’t see the point. Couldn’t all of that time and money be better spent actually doing something to benefit the populace? Like providing education or healthcare?

I cut my visit to the baptistery a little short because a large tour group was entering the rather small building – and I think we all know I’m not a fan of large groups in enclosed spaces. We briefly visited the Museo Arcivescoville, but we were both fairly tired by then and a little weary of artifacts. After a while the wonderment passes away to, “Yep. That’s a really old stone tablet with a bunch of writing in extinct languages. Neato.”

We puttered around Ravenna on our bikes a little bit longer, just riding around back streets and dodging crazy Italian drivers. It's a beautiful, quaint little city. After returning our bikes we hopped back on the train to Bologna.

When we arrived it was just getting dark, so we freshened up at the hotel and then headed out for a walk around Bologna. We walked down to the great big Piazza Maggiore, and it was fun to see at night. It was absolutely packed with people and the energy was palpable. I think if we’d both had a little bit more energy (read: me – Z has a seemingly endless supply of energy) we might have tried to squeeze into this place serving tapas. Instead we plopped down at a rather barren looking café with a great view of the square. We had some mediocre, over-priced wine and got harassed by illegal vendors trying to sell us crap until we couldn’t take it anymore.

We walked back to a restaurant near our hotel for dinner, because Z was intent on trying pasta bolognese for the first time – and in what better place than Bologna to try it? The food and service were so-so, but we were heartily impressed by their vino al a spina (draught wine). It was only 7 Euros per liter and tasted about ten times better than the 6 Euro glass of Montepulciano I’d just had at the café.

So we drank a liter of red wine and then stumbled back to the hotel to rest our weary heads. Viva Italia!

Ancient Appian Way and Aqueducts Bike Tour

My final day in Rome started with a bit of a headache left over from our Aussie-motivated wine extravaganza the night before. But, I had been looking forward to this bike tour for quite some time and I wasn’t about to miss out on it.

Thankfully the shop, Top Bike Rentals and Tours, was only about 5 minutes away from my hotel and I had time for an extra cappuccino on the way there – I don’t think the morning would have been very pretty otherwise. The tour was composed of one family from Singapore, myself, and our guide Bruno. The bicycles themselves were pretty great. They had these nifty double shifters on the handles which I found far more convenient than the twisty shifter I have on my own bicycle at home.

One thing I did discover about riding a bicycle in Rome is that I really, really hate cobblestones. There is simply no way to get comfortable whilst jostling along an uneven stone path. Once we made it to the Appian Way (arguably one of the oldest roads in the world) it was so rough that one of the women actually fell off her bike when the tire caught a large stone. Thankfully she was unharmed, but it sparked some caution in the rest of us.

I didn’t take too many photos on the tour, partly because it was inconvenient to stop, grab my camera out of the saddlebags, and then put it away again, but mostly because I was just enjoying the ride. It was a perfect day for cycling and we all had a great time.

Our first stop after traveling down the Appian Way was at some Christian catacombs. I have no idea why I decided that I, the most claustrophobic person in the world, should go on this tour through underground caves and tombs and vaults. Suffice it to say that I had a horrible time and I was the first one to ascend the staircase back to the great big, sun-filled world we all know and love.

We continued biking until we came to the aqueducts. I was totally fascinated by the structures and in awe of the amount of time, effort, and skill it must have taken to construct them. The Romans really knew what they were doing when it came to certain things.

After the aqueduct park we biked to an operational farm where they raise sheep for milk. They turn the milk into cheese on site as well, and it is divine. We had a quick break for cheese, bread, fruit, and wine and we all chatted for around 30 minutes. After working up an appetite all morning on the bike it was like manna from the gods.

Our ride back into the city was punctuated by one gentleman getting a flat tire, which Bruno fixed in a matter of minutes, a bit of a rain shower, and a rather comical chase near the Coliseum of a police officer chasing an illegal vendor through the ruins. It was hilarious. I almost had to stop my bike I was laughing to hard – I felt like we needed Yakkety Sax playing or something. Bruno turned to me and said, “I think sometimes my life in Italy is like a movie.” After spending nearly two months here, I can definitely see the truth in that statement.

All in all 30km (18 miles) on a bike wasn’t so bad, but I was very happy to reach our finish back at the shop in Rome. I had to scurry back to the hotel to meet Zafiro, grab our bags, and navigate 2 km through heavy rainfall in shoes that apparently have holes in them to catch our bus back to Civitanova. It was a long day, and a long trip in just a few days, but it was an amazing experience.

I think, just maybe, I might have broken my curse with Rome. Of course, now that I’ve said that I’ve probably jinxed myself again….

Rome

View from the VittorianoContinuing along with the weekend trip to Rome…

On Saturday morning I slept in because…well, I like sleeping in. My travel partner, fellow language tutor Zafiro, had never been to Rome before, so she got up early to visit the Vatican. I saw the Vatican last year, so I wasn’t terribly inclined to visit again.

Lamp post near Piazza delle RepublicInstead, I walked over to the Central Termini station and bought a ticket for one of those hop-on, hop-off buses. My preferred way to use those is to take the full tour the first time around, then go around again getting off at each stop you want to visit. Since the buses run about every 15 minutes or so, it’s easy to get a lot of ground covered in a short period of time. I admit I hate looking so…touristy, but sometimes you just have to admit that’s what you are.

We went all over Central Rome, making stops at the Piazza delle Republic, Piazza Venezia, and just about every other piazza you can think of – I swear, there are nearly as many piazzas in Italy as there are churches, and that’s saying something.

St. Peter's BasilicaI went to St. Peter’s Basilica last time I was in Rome also, so it wasn’t terribly tempting to get off the bus. One thing I did see, however, was the restaurant that made me violently ill with their lasagna last year. I have never before been so terribly sick in all my life, compounded by the fact that I was in a foreign country surrounded by people who didn’t speak my language, nor did I speak theirs. It was a challenging experience and not one I ever hope to repeat. So, if you’re ever near St. Peter’s Basilica, DO NOT eat at the Café San Pietro – OK?

Piazza delle Republic - and wild fish wrestling"Ridiculous" MosesAfter I completed the full loop on the tour bus I got off to go check out the Piazza delle Republic in more detail. The fountain is quite beautiful, though I was a little curious about what one particular maiden appeared to be doing to some poor bird, but perhaps it’s better that I don’t know.

I moseyed over to this great big fountain on a side street next, where I couldn’t help but snap a shot of the so-called “Ridiculous Moses.” Apparently the Romans believe Moses looks like a pompous ass in this particular medium, and I’m moderately inclined to agree with them.

Grasshopper made out of palm fronds by a street performerI was starting to get close to the time I needed to meet Zafiro in the afternoon, so I started walking back towards Central Termini to reboard the bus towards the Coliseum and the Arch of Constantine. I was looking for a bathroom along the way and stumbled across a McDonald’s. Now, I’m not the biggest fan of fast food in the United States, let alone in a foreign country, but it looked hugely appealing. I went inside to use the restroom and then bought a cheeseburger. It was delicious – and let’s talk about the two reasons why I felt this way:

1. It was only €1. Seriously. One freaking, teeny-tiny, itsy-bitsy Euro. The equivalent of $1.33. That may not seem incredible to you folks at home in the good ole US of A, but over here in the EU food is expensive. Really expensive. Everywhere. It’s tough to get out of anywhere with even the crappiest of food for less than €10 or €20. So let me tell you, a sandwich for a buck? Yes, please.

2. It had condiments. Yes, I realize how incredibly stupid that sounds. Condiments – who cares about condiments? This chick does. It was practically oozing with delicious, sweet and salty mustard and ketchup. And why was this so important, my friend? Well let me tell you: In Italy, sandwiches have zero condiments. No mayonnaise, no mustard, no tapenade, no nothing. It’s like eating the fricken Sahara between two slices of dried out Focaccia. If you don’t have a stinkin’ liter of water to help wash it down, you’re going to be parched like the desert in no time at all – but remember, they charge for the water too. So, being able to eat a sandwich without feeling like my tongue was going to stick to the roof of my mouth was quite pleasant.

We can have a conversation about my opinion of Italian food later, in another post, but I warn you – it’s none too complimentary.

After my McDonald’s treat (and yes, it sickens me to read that too), I hopped back on the bus to head over to the Coliseum. I realized I had enough time to spare to book it over to the Parthenon and back if I really hurried. The Parthenon is one landmark I haven’t been to yet, but would really like to visit. Unfortunately, this was when Google Maps on my cell phone decided to fizzle, so after walking in the wrong direction for about a ½ kilometer I decided to call it quits. Instead I parked my butt next to the Arch of Constantine to people watch – and it was greatly entertaining. Aside from the creepy Japanese guy that kept trying to catch my eye, that is – thank the universe for great big bug sunglasses and iPods so people don’t realize you’re pointedly ignoring them.

Monument to Vittorio Emanuele IIWe met up and headed over to the Monument to Vittorio Emanuele II. It’s a great big monstrosity many people call the “Wedding Cake,” what with all its ostentatious white marble and stylings. I like it though, for some unknown reason. It’s humongous – I mean, truly enormous. The scale is just mind blowing even in a city like Rome.

Tomb of the Unknown SoldierIt also houses the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, which I found particularly moving. Many countries have similar ones (the US’ is in Arlington National Cemetery). You can read more about Italy’s here.

We went up to the second-highest level to enjoy the view – which was spectacular, and got a view of the rather ominous looking rain clouds headed our way. We did have enough time to enjoy a glass of wine with our view, though, so all’s well that ends well.

View from the Vittoriano We sheltered ourselves from the brief afternoon rain at a nearby museum with a Salvador Dali exhibition. It was a bit stuffy and crowded, but I managed to make it out psychologically unscathed (I’m a notorious claustrophobe). It was still drizzling a bit and starting to turn chilly, so we decided to start walking back to our hotel to change clothes and prepare for any evening excursions.

A rather regal looking seagull at the top of the monumentAs we were walking we stumbled across a sidewalk artist painting watercolors and selling his work. Both Z and I are suckers for original art, so we couldn’t help but ooh and ahh a bit. The piece he was painting was incredibly beautiful and Z decided she had to have it. I had my heart set on a cute little black and white number. We had to wait for him to finish the painting and let it dry, so we crossed the block and parked our butts at a café for some wine and snacks.

On the way to the café we found another street performer carving little sculptures out of carrots, daikon, and beet. He was just so good. I donated a Euro to take some photos, and just fell in love with this little fishy. He just had this facial expression of complete fishy joy. I know, it’s just a carrot fish – but he really made me smile.

Fishy joy. This carrot has it. At the café two girls sat next to us and we got to chatting. They were from Australia and it was their last night in Rome. We ended up chatting and drinking the night away – to the tune of 5 or 6 bottles of wine. Oops! Well aware that we both had a full day of sightseeing ahead of us the next day and a bus ride back to Civitanova, we smartly called it a night and hailed a taxi back to our hotel. Well, mostly smartly – it probably would have been better if we’d stopped after two bottles!

All in all, a great day sightseeing in Rome and a chance to make new friends from the other side of the globe. Tune in later for tales of my hungover, 30 kilometer bike tour…

Monument to Vittorio Emanuele IISurprisingly, this was before the wine...

Positano and the Amalfi Coast

The city of AmalfiVisiting the Amalfi Coast has long been on my list of things to do. Last year during my whirlwind tour of Western Europe I had a few days in Sorrento, the city after which the Amalfi Coast officially begins, and the Island of Capri. They were easily my favorite sites on the entire trip.

I knew that during my three months here that if I made it nowhere else, I must make it down the Amalfi Coast. When I realized I had an extra day in Rome by myself and found a great one-day tour hitting most of the sites I wanted to see, I couldn’t pass it up. It was a very long day, about 13-14 hours of travel total, but it was well worth it. The tour company, Avventure Bellissima picked me up right from my hotel and dropped me off that night.

Citrons in PompeiiOn the tour was one large family from Tennessee, a couple from South Africa, and myself. Everyone was super nice and our driver, Andrea, was a total doll. The driving was a bit whacky, but after you’ve been in Italy a while you realize that just comes with the territory.

Our first stop was in Pompeii, and after a guided two-hour tour of the ruins we all jumped back in the van to continue our way down the coast. Right before we left Pompeii a vendor insisted on giving me an orange and some limonata. He was quite disappointed to hear I was married, though I can’t imagine why it made any difference to him – I haven’t heard of too many whirlwind romances taking place after a balding 45 year-old Italian fruit vendor heckles a young American tourist. The gigantic citrons hanging off the front of his establishment were quite impressive, though.

On our drive we passed by Naples, a city I’ve always been slightly interested in visiting, but am a bit wary due to its reputation. Andrea, our driver, confirmed my suspicions that it’s really not the place for a young American female to travel to solo. He insisted that unless we had someone who actually lived in Naples or was familiar with the are to guide us, it really wasn’t safe. Considering how often Naples makes it into the news for strikes and rioting, I’m inclined to believe him.

After Naples we passed by Sorrento and the Island of Capri. Sorrento is a beautiful city and I wish we’d had time to stop.

The city of PositanoJust before Positano, Andrea pulled over so we could snap some shots of the city from the highest point of the road leading down to the city. It’s a truly breathtaking view – but I couldn’t help but think of how much it resembled to coastline near Monterey and Big Sur, California. It kind of made me homesick for the nearly two years the husband and I had together on the Central Coast.

Shops in PositanoAmalfi Coast One nice thing about the ridiculously narrow roads leading into Positano and most of the Amalfi Coast, is that it prevents the large tourist coaches from passing through. The streets are impossibly narrow even for some large trucks, let alone a 16-wheel touring coach. It makes the cities just slightly less overrun with obnoxious tourists, which I realize as a tourist myself it is quite absurd to say, but it was nice to not have to dodge throngs of people milling about like in Rome and Florence.

Beach in PositanoWe stopped to have lunch at a lovely beachside café and I had some incredibly delicious seafood spaghetti. With my slowly improving grasp of Italian I managed to order for myself and to help the other people on the tour place their orders. They were impressed at how much Italian I’ve learned in the short time I’ve been here. My Italian is still very broken, but I admit I was quite pleased with their compliments. I have indeed learned enough of the language for survival and can communicate in basic conversations and understand much of what other people say – as long as they speak slowly!

After lunch I walked around the small town and poked my head into several shops. I found some gifts for family, friends, and myself. The town is just too adorable – I’d love to go back with friends to stay a little longer. Unfortunately, the little town is almost always overrun with tourists so it makes it difficult to visit except in the off-season – when almost everything is closed.

After Positano we got back into the van and continued along the coast to the city of Amalfi. The drive was incredibly beautiful and I stayed agape out the window for nearly the entire time. I wanted to stamp all of the sites indelibly onto my mind so I never forgot just how beautiful it was.

Amalfi had a few more tourists than Positano, but it was still beautiful. I checked out a few shops and bought some limoncello gelato to enjoy while walking around. I was starting to feel a little tired at this point, so I found a beautiful café right near the water and had a couple glasses of wine. I just sat and admired the view – and did a little people watching, which I always enjoy.

Our drive back to Rome was fairly quick and painless, most of it ensconced in darkness. All in all, a long but incredible day. I’m so glad I took this tour and finally got to see the coastline. It truly is as beautiful as everyone says and the pictures just don’t do it justice. I can’t wait to return someday to enjoy it with the people I love.

Visiting Pompeii

The first time I went to Rome it didn’t go so well. After some morning sightseeing around the ancient sights and a trip to the Vatican, I ate some lasagna from a cafeteria-style restaurant (which are über-popular in Europe) and quickly descended into a horrible few days of food-poisoning symptoms. Thankfully I was smart enough to pony up the cash to get a private doctor to my hotel room. After a shot of anti-nausea meds and some stuff to help keep my hydrated, I managed to recover within a couple days and continue my trip relatively unscathed. The other girl I was with didn’t call the doctor and was violently ill for nearly a week.

The second time I was in Rome I was stranded in the airport try to get to Civitanova in the middle of a ridiculous snow storm.

So, when I was contemplating a return to the “Eternal City,” you can understand that I was a little hesitant. I figured it was either “third time’s the charm” or “three strikes, you’re out” – either way, this trip would be decisive of my opinion on Rome.

That being said, after a lovely weekend in Rome I am incredibly happy I mustered up the gumption to return. I left Civitanova on Thursday afternoon after teaching and returned on Sunday night. All three days spent in the city were packed with sightseeing, eating, and general merriment. I was exhausted on Monday morning when I returned to school, but it was a great weekend.

I went with another language tutor from here in the Marche region, but she couldn’t make it out until Friday night. With all day Friday to myself, I decided it was time to finally venture down to the Amalfi Coast. I had been entertaining the idea of a trip to Naples and then trying to get to the Amalfi Coast from there, but it was becoming increasingly difficult to orchestrate another entire weekend of travel – plus it’s a lot more expensive. So when I saw a tour on Viator that departed from Rome and traveled to Pompeii, Positano, and Amalfi in a single day, I was excited to sign up. It was a little spendy, but far cheaper than the entire weekend in Naples.

The main square with Mount VesuviusI wasn’t really all that keen on returning to Pompeii, I’d been there once before and wasn’t impressed. However, my first visit was the day after I had contracted aforementioned food poisoning, and was hardly walking on my own. After 45 minutes of the two-hour tour, I had to return to the bus to rest.

This tour was far more impressive, and not just because I wasn’t ill. There are three main tourist entrances to Pompeii. Apparently, last time my tour took the most boring entrance near the amphitheater. This time our guide took us through a different entrance near the Temple of Apollo and the main square. The ruins were much more complex and interesting – add to that the fact that I wasn’t shuffling along like an invalid and I had quite the enjoyable time.

The Temple of ApolloOur first stop was at the Temple of Apollo, where our guide pointed out the altar for reading entrails to divine the future. Ancient civilizations routinely engaged in animal sacrifice. They would sometimes remove the intestines and lay them upon an altar or other structure. The composition of the entrails would somehow reveal to the reader the will of the gods. I’m sure it was accurate.

I think the most interesting part of standing in the temple, however, was seeing Vesuvius in the background. Kind of ominous, what with all the devastation surrounding us. Let’s just say warm, fuzzy feelings may have been sent the volcano’s way to remain dormant.

After that we checked out an old temple and went into the main square. There our guide, Guitano, insisted that I must have a picture with him because I was traveling alone. He had assumed that I was with another family in our group, and when he discovered I was traveling alone decided he need to take care of me. Italian men…

In the square my fellow tour-goers started seeing some of the many dogs who call Pompeii home. There were many stray dogs in the area, and eventually the people who maintain the ruins adopted them. There are 37 in total right now, and they are all collared, numbered, and well-cared for. In fact, every two months a veterinarian comes to the ruins to ensure they are healthy and to examine any new arrivals. I think they have better health care than I do...

My favorite mosaic, of courseReproduction of the most famous mosaic in PompeiiWe wandered through a modest section of the ruins and went into many different buildings. My favorite parts of the ruins are the original tiles, mosaics, and paintings on the walls. It is fascinating to me how the color remains after all these millennia – plus through a volcanic eruption.

The only truly disturbing part of the ruins was viewing the two intact skeletons excavated from the ruins. It’s difficult to think about the terror of dying in a volcanic eruption. Actually seeing the skeletons of two people who actually did really brings it home.

Our final stop was at the very famous Pompeii brothel, of course. It’s a rather benign looking building, but it’s paintings are a little more risqué.

All in all, Pompeii was far more interesting the second time around. I don’t think I’ll ever return – there are far too many interesting things to see in Italy to divert any more attention to this area – but I’m glad I finally got to see it without feeling like I was dying.

Because my weekend trip was so long, I’ll post the other parts later. Next up, Positano and the Amalfi Coast!

Original tile floor in the bath houseOriginal mosaic floor in a palatial houseOriginal wall paintingsOriginal paint and decor

Oggi Cucino Io....Dinner

After attending three cooking lessons with Andrea for Oggi Cucino Io…. (vegetables, pizza, and sweets – the final one I forgot my camera) I was delighted to be invited to attend the final dinner.

The cooking course is comprised of 19 hours of lessons spanning around 3 months on various themes – seafood, antipasti, pasta, vegetables, desserts, etc. – and then culminates in a celebratory dinner in which the students help to prepare an elaborate dinner for family and friends. I had assumed that the dinner would take place at the same spot the lessons were held, Auxo Store in Porto Sant’ Elpidio, and would be a small, intimate affair, but instead they were held at Sandwich Time, Andrea’s self-service restaurant in Civitanova – and the spread was incredible.

I was surprised at just how many people were there and the impressive dishes the students and cooks at Sandwich Time managed to send out to us. Unfortunately I was suffering from a stomach bug that’s been circulating at the school in which I teach, so I was unable to do more than swallow a few bites of each course. In fact, I didn’t even try more than a sip of each of the wines paired with each course – and if you know me, you know that me turning down wine would be akin to the 4 Horsemen riding through the door to welcome the apocalypse.

Lovely studentsThe boys from PugliaIt was lots of fun to see all the students complete their course, however. I’ve grown fond of several members of the class. Even though I can only speak broken Italian, and they can only speak broken English, we still managed to communicate fairly well throughout the lessons. In fact, I’ve run into a couple of the class members about town and it’s quite nice to see a familiar face. You know you’ve been somewhere a while when you’re bumping into people you know at the supermarket!

Two of the class members were of particular amusement to me; two men from the Puglia region of Italy – both carabinieri (military police). Throughout the course there was quite the commentary from one of them about how everything from Puglia was of higher quality, tasted fresher, or was just plain better than anywhere else in Italy – let alone the world. It became a running joke about Puglia with my first host family. Anytime we found anything from Puglia we would feign awe and amazement at how it must be better than everything else, simply because it’s from Puglia.

Cooking in the kitchen at Sandwich TimeSo, it was quite amusing when I moved to my second host family and discovered the mother is from Puglia herself. We will be visiting the region over Easter, so I’ll be sure to recount if Puglia really is better than everywhere else.

The dinner was quite good, even if I was only able to take a bite here and there. The first course was a zucchini soup with crispy speck (a bacon-like British charcuterie) and crostini. It was a little blah to me, but that very well could have been my compromised taste buds.

The second course was a type of rabbit ballotine served over a bed of dressed baby greens and tomatoes. The meat was good, but the salad really needed some kind of acid to liven it up. The whole course just kind of sat on the middle of the palate – not particularly exciting or enticing to continue.

After that there was a pasta dish with artichokes, pancetta, and saffron. This was the only dish of the night that I didn’t really like. Italians enjoy their pasta al dente, which I’m not particularly fond of, but this was beyond al dente. It was practically crunchy. Additionally, it was a little fatty from the pancetta and needed some seasoning. The artichokes tasted like water and the saffron threads were impressive, but as a garnish looked like crispy-fried bug antennas. All in all, I was pretty underwhelmed.

After that we had a lovely filet of veal wrapped in puff pastry – it was divine. I really wished I could have eaten more of it, but my stomach was rebelling quite fiercely at this point. It was accompanied by a fennel-flavored polenta cake, of which I was not particularly fond. The fennel had overpowered any other flavors, and it tasted strongly of anise. It just didn’t fit with the rest of plate.

Finally, we topped everything off with a kind of deconstructed tiramisu, with pistachio cream. Now, usually I’m not a fan of tiramisu, but this was delicious. I ate about half the portion – which, if you know how much I don’t like sweets and add in the fact I felt sick, is quite impressive.

Each of the courses was accompanied by a wine from an Italian vineyard. Unfortunately my taste buds just weren’t up to the task and my stomach roiled at just the thought of consuming alcohol – which is totally not me, I know.

Thankfully, Marco (Andrea’s partner at Sandwich Time and my enabler of alcoholic beverages at the cooking lessons) took pity on me and sent me home with a beautiful bottle of red to try after I started feeling better. I finally opened it night before last and was impressed at the quality. Makes me wish I had been able to try all of the wines.

Score card for grading each courseAt the end of the dinner they had a graduation of sorts for all the students. I tried to stay and watch as long as I could, but by that point I was barely standing upright and needed to get home. I felt privileged for having been invited to participate in this event, and am greatly looking forward to  a pasta lesson with a new course of students next Thursday.

So, if you ever find yourself in Civitanova with a hankering for some cooking lessons, make sure you find Andrea and Marco at Sandwich Time! Thanks again to all the lovely people involved with Oggi Cucino Io…, Auxo Store, and Sandwich Time!

The Purpose of This Project

How I feel when I teach aloneAfter last week’s adventure of teaching by myself for the first time, I got another taste of that experience the following Wednesday – and again on Monday of this week (yesterday). There are several nasty sicknesses fluttering about the area and it seems like all the teachers and students are contracting at least one of them.

I’ve managed to catch two of them so far. In Florence a few weeks ago I succumbed to the horrible cough, congestion, and chest pain. Then last week I got whatever stomach bug is going around – it’s incredibly unpleasant. I think I’ve been more sick since arriving in Italy 6 weeks ago than I have been in the last 2 years. Perhaps it’s exposure to strains of illnesses I wouldn’t normally come into contact with, or maybe I’m just not eating as healthy as I normally would and my sleep pattern is all messed up. Probably all of it.

Because of the myriad sicknesses, I actually missed a day of school last week. I felt fairly horrible about it, until I realized that everyone is getting sick right now and it makes little sense to continue attending school while sick and keep passing it around. Also, when I’m not there, life pretty much goes on as usual – when another teacher isn’t there, I’m left teaching students who speak a foreign language and without any formal teaching training myself!

Yesterday I taught nearly all day by myself. I still wasn’t feeling entirely better, so it was rather exhausting. I didn’t really want to be there and I think my lack of enthusiasm for the lesson was contagious. The kids were rather lethargic, as was I, and I think we kept feeding off each other’s apathy. It was a rather lackluster day and I wasn’t really pleased with how everything went.

It’s surprising how much energy teaching takes. One really has to make the effort to be excited about the topic while teaching it, in hopes that the excitement will catch and the kids will take a certain measure of responsibility for learning. It’s simply impossible to hope that they will take the onus of learning upon themselves. One has to coerce, cajole, and occasionally compel the students to absorb new knowledge. When it works and you have tons of energy, it’s great. When you feel like garbage and don’t really want to be there yourself, the kids know – and reciprocate.

This is another one of those epiphanies in this experience that makes me realize teaching in the United States is not for me, but it is a great character building experience. That’s the main reason I pursued this project – to challenge myself and throw myself into new opportunities and experiences with the hopes of gaining knowledge about myself and others. It’s working. They’re not epic, awe-inspiring epiphanies with giant, cartoon-like light bulbs blinking on above my head and flooding my brain with new and profound knowledge, but I don’t think personal growth is ever like that.

It’s the little moments each day where I see new and influential connections between parts of my life – and the lives of others – that I never before knew existed, and applying that knowledge to my life in an effective manner to grow and become a better person. And, since arriving in Italy, I’ve definitely had those little moments in spades.

On Teaching in a Foreign Country and Surprises

Pretty much how I feel most days...Teaching is a unique profession that is both challenging and rewarding. I have a great deal of respect for the educators in our country, but I have never felt particularly inclined to become a teacher myself.

When I decided I wanted to travel abroad for an extended period of time after finishing my undergrad work, I really wanted to get involved with an environmental project. I looked at seahorse preservation in Cambodia, habitat protection for tortoises in the Seychelles Islands – even frog mapping in the Ecuadorian Amazon. All of these things sounded amazing and were of great interest to me. While challenging in practice, however, many of these projects weren’t challenging to my nature (also, I found it incredibly difficult to find an organization I was comfortable with that wouldn’t completely break my pocketbook).

Teaching, I thought, would be an ideal way for me to challenge myself. I am a great student, but I often find it difficult to articulate my thoughts to other people in way that accurately conveys my sentiments. It’s one thing to just blurt out how you feel, or to beat people over the head with your agenda, but to be able to communicate in such a way that people genuinely understand you is a special thing.

I enrolled in a program that I thought would be teaching advanced English to professionals and educators. I thought it would help me to better articulate my thoughts to other people. What I ended up with, however, was teaching 8 different classes of 10-14 year old Italian children. Surprise #1.

I briefly considered turning the project down and trying yet another organization, but I decided that this would be even more challenging. Not only am I teaching English, forcing myself to articulate and explain and describe concepts that come naturally to me yet are totally foreign to my students – I’m also going to be engaging the minds of young children

Now, anyone who’s known me for longer than a few days knows I’m not particularly fond of children. Heck, I wasn’t particularly fond of children when I was a child. During gatherings of large groups I was always the first to suggest playing the quiet game – where everyone must be completely silent for as long as humanly possible. Those brief minutes of silence were complete bliss for me after the ear drum-blowing cacophony that is children at play. Other times I would clean my bedroom, set everything just so, and then turn my little globular boom-box stereo to the classical music station and sit, with my eyes closed, just listening to the music.

Yes, I was a strange child.

All that being said, I never related well to children. When my sister and I played dress-up, it wasn’t as faerie princesses – we ran our own little business and I was a professional career woman.

So, now, as an adult, I find it even more difficult to relate to children. It’s even made me greatly hesitant to have children of my own – but I know that my husband and I would create children far too amazing to keep from this world. It’s simply our duty to bless this world with our progeny (yes, that’s half sarcastic).

Teaching children, then – well…why not? I wanted a challenge, and a challenge this would be. I found myself at the Ungaretti Secondi Media in Civitanova Alta, Italy. For everyone who’s not familiar with Italian schools, that’s the Ungaretti secondary school – or middle school/junior high for us Americans. I teach 8 different classes, three days per week. I work with three different Italian educators who teach English, each with their own, very distinct style of teaching. One is very strict and demanding, but achieves great results. Another is quite gentle and nurturing, but she also achieves great results with her students. The third…well, I haven’t quite figured her out yet. She doesn’t speak English all that well (which isn’t altogether uncommon in Italy, the same as many foreign language teachers in the US might not speak the language fluently), and we’ve had a few misunderstandings on exactly what my role in her classroom is.

She is new to this school this year. At her last school she had English language teachers that came into her classroom, but they were also fluent in Italian and were part of a paid service that the school district had contracted for this purpose. Far different from me,  a volunteer English language tutor who doesn’t speak Italian and is only supposed to assist with already planned lessons. She seems to think, despite several people telling her that this is not the case, that I am just like the language teachers at her old school.

How I feel about teaching most days...and sometimes how I feel about lifeIt’s been alternately frustrating and rewarding. Classroom control is very difficult in any country I’m sure, but for a  country that fosters interdependence and group collaboration like Italy, it can be nearly impossible to get the kids to stop talking to their neighbors. Two of the teachers I work with seem to have found strategies that work for them to keep at least a moderate amount of control over their classrooms. The other teacher, however, struggles daily with the students – and it’s not uncommon for it to ultimately end up with her screaming at them at the top of her lungs.

The children are much better with me, perhaps because I made it quite clear when I started teaching in their classrooms that I would brook little misbehavior, or perhaps because they are too busy trying to understand me to talk to their neighbor – I have no idea. But, usually, they are fairly well behaved.

Last Wednesday, however, was quite the tribulation. I essentially ended up teaching two of my classes on my own, from an Italian-produced English textbook that doesn’t always make sense, to classrooms of students that were very nearly out of control. Because I don’t speak Italian and the students’ English is still fairly limited, it can be difficult to make myself understood. When I have a problematic teacher constantly trying to speak over me or routinely conversing with students while I’m trying to conduct my lessons, it makes it particularly difficult.

During my last hour of teaching on Wednesday, one of my higher level classes was in complete chaos for nearly the entire hour. By the end of the lesson I was just about out of my mind with complete frustration. I spent the last few minutes of class essentially yelling at them for their constant misbehavior, incessant chatting, and just general disrespect for each other and for the teachers. The bell rang that signals the end of school while I was still speaking (OK, ranting), and while most classes would have stayed still and quiet until after I quit talking, these kids just grabbed all their stuff, stood up, and walked out of the classroom.

It was totally infuriating.

At that moment I started to seriously question why I had come to Italy, whether or not I could continue working with a teacher who didn’t understand me or my language, who had little idea of my role in the classroom, and whether or not I wanted to continue teaching students who didn’t seem to care if I was there or not.

I was in a bear of a mood all afternoon, until I chatted with my husband. I vented for a little while until I had spent all my anger while he patiently listened (or read, whatever). While I certainly have the option to refuse to work with people here or to refuse to teach certain classes, I just don’t think that’s in the spirit of why I came here. I wanted to challenge myself. I won’t always be able to choose who I do or do not work with, and I don’t think I should start getting picky right now. This program is for a set period of time with a definitive end date. I can handle anything for two months – including unruly classrooms and a teacher I don’t understand (in every sense of the word).

I spent much of my free time in the last week trying to figure out how I could be an asset in the classroom. In what way could I make my presence in this school most valuable? What I decided was that I won’t teach from the book. Anyone can teach from a textbook – whether they speak the language fluently or not. What I can do – that no one else can – is to teach the finer points of Standard American English that you couldn’t possibly learn from a textbook: idioms, slang, colloquialisms, etc. I decided we would watch short videos in English and I would challenge them with comprehension questions.

And I would make it fun. I don’t like being angry. I don’t want to be angry with my students. I genuinely like them and I want them to like me. Even more, I want them to like learning English. If we keep trying to bludgeon it into their stubborn little heads every week, they’re likely not going to learn much and they’re definitely not going to like the process. The best way to encourage learning, in my opinion, is to make it fun. So I would. 

My preferred style of English to teach...I found little videos like The Very Hungry Caterpillar by Eric Carle, and movie trailers for kids movies like Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, and a BBC advert in which they showed brief scenes of their Planet Earth documentary and David Attenborough read the lyrics to the song Wonderful World, and developed comprehension questions. For the older kids I had a presentation on American idioms and slang.

I arrived at school this morning with great hopes of making a difference in the classroom – and then I discovered that the teacher for my first two classes (my problem classes) was out sick. And I was with them all by myself. For the entire lesson. Two hours with the first class of younger kids, and one hour with the class of older kids. Surprise #2. I had a nanosecond of panic, and then decided everything would be just fine. Positive visualization, right?

And I was right. The kids were angels. Seriously. At the beginning of class I explained that I was with them alone for the entire lesson. I reminded them that my Italian is very limited, so they must be nice and help me out by listening very carefully. Anytime either class got too loud or excited, I just stopped what I was doing, clasped my hands behind my back, and waited. Before too long they were shushing each other to be quiet. At first I would stand still for nearly 15-20 seconds before they got the hint. By the end of class it took less than 5 seconds for them to quiet themselves. Talk about classroom control success.

In my first class we spent the first hour reviewing the homework I had assigned them last week. Nearly every single child had a correct answer. Then we watched videos and did the comprehension questions. They were all very good and paid close attention. Almost all the answers were perfectly right the first time.

For my second class of older kids I skipped homework review entirely, because I hadn’t assigned it. I got them to quiet down after the beginning of class and explained I would be with them alone today – no other teacher. I reminded them that my Italian was poor and told them I needed their help. I then took two or three minutes to talk about what had happened the week before – that Italian students are very different from American students, that teaching methods are different (my diplomatic explanation), and that I had been very frustrated. They agreed. I explained that I would no longer be teaching them from the book. Instead, I would teach them things about English and the United States that they couldn’t learn from anyone else – and they all looked very pleased about this.

So , we went right to a Powerpoint presentation on idioms common in Standard American English. The students were perfect. They were quiet and respectful and totally engaged in the lesson. I had them tell me the Italian words for things, whether I knew the word or not, compelling them to use their translation skills. Letting them showcase a language they are already comfortable with, and watching my miserable attempts at speaking Italian, rather than continual corrections of their English, seemed to really resonate with them – and why wouldn’t it? No one wants to be corrected all the time, it’s demeaning and frustrating. Letting them teach me new things lets them feel in control – far more effective, in my opinion.

About ten minutes into the lesson, the assistant headmaster came into the classroom and sat down to observe (I think she was nervous about me being in there alone). I can’t tell you how satisfying it was to have her walk into my classroom – one of the most notoriously obnoxious classes in the entire school – and have all of the students completely calm and engaged in the task.

Within a few slides of different idioms she was participating in the lesson as well. The kids were translating the English slides into Italian for the assistant headmaster, and they were giving the Italian versions of some of the expressions. It was great. I honestly couldn’t have asked for a better experience in the classroom. Even more satisfying is knowing that the assistant headmaster, who essentially runs the school, was totally happy with my lessons and my control of the classroom. Yay!

I don’t think I will ever become a full-time educator, but I know now how incredibly satisfying and rewarding teaching can be – both for myself and in teaching my students something new and seeing the excitement on their faces. This is precisely the reason I enrolled in this program. I wanted a challenge; to present myself with obstacles and overcome them.

And this time, I most definitely did.

Second Host Family

My horrible cell phone photo of the beautiful view from my new host family's country houseDuring my stay here in Italy I am with two families. I spent one month (5 weeks, actually) with a family in Montecosaro Scalo, and yesterday I moved in with my new family in Civitanova Marche. I will be with them for the remainder of my stay here in Italy – until the 2^nd of May.

I was a little sad to leave my first family. We have become very close and I greatly enjoyed spending time with them and was comfortable in their home. My host mother reminded me a great deal of my own mother, and it made the stay in their home quite easy.

My new host family is, of course, very different – but I find I am also incredibly comfortable with them too. My first day was a little rough, though through no fault of anyone’s except perhaps my own. On my last night with my first host family we went out to eat at their neighbor’s seafood restaurant and enjoyed quite the feast. We had seafood from all over the Mediterranean and had quite a good time.

However, when I was young I was allergic to almost all seafood. A single bite of shrimp could have me sick for hours. Thankfully, as I got older, I outgrew my allergies and I slowly began – very timidly – trying all different kinds of seafood to see what I could and could not eat as I got older. Now, at 25 years of age, I can eat nearly everything – except octopus and scallops. I don’t know why, especially considering I can eat squid and all sorts of other shellfish, but octopus and scallops make me sicker than a dog.

During our seafood feast I was well aware that there was octopus on the table, and attempted to keep my distance. However, after the wine started flowing the merriment began, I must have lost track – because I had a horribly unpleasant Friday night. So, sadly, on Saturday morning when I was due to meet my new family, I wasn’t exactly at my fullest capacity for perkiness.

I managed to put on a cheery face (I hope), but all the while my stomach was roiling. It was a very long day of getting acquainted with the family and meeting some of their friends, including a dinner which included delicious food but a little too much chaos at a lovely restaurant. I felt like I was about to keel over by the time we finally made it back to the house last night.

Thankfully, this morning I was finally feeling like myself and was able to interact with the family as I normally would. I’m greatly enjoying spending time with all of them and getting to know their routines and habits. The youngest daughter is a ball of energy and totally adorable. The elder daughter is very sweet and almost fluent in English (a total Godsend). The mother and father are also super nice and accommodating. I know that the next two months with them will be great. Their house is in an amazing location – a mere 200 yards from the Adriatic Sea and only a short 2km (1.5 miles) to the center of Civitanova Marche. The area is totally beautiful.

Drive by wild asparagus foragingToday we ventured out to the family’s “country house” near Civitanova Alta. It was complete bliss. I grew up in a fairly rural area and have a total soft spot for family farms. I absolutely loved this place. They have their own garden, olive tree orchard, chickens, rabbits, and the two cutest little rustic houses/kitchens ever. It’s simplistic and rustic, but lovely. They have a mind-blowing view of Civitanova Alta and the Adriatic Sea. The awful cell-phone photo at the top of this post doesn’t even remotely do it justice.

As we were driving along the gravel road to the house, Mariella explained to me that people were all about because it was wild asparagus season. As we drove along, Angelo pointed out to me the wild asparagus plant – which looked totally foreign to me – and then stopped at one point and picked a small stem. I was completely overjoyed. I absolutely love the idea of foraging for wild foods – and wild asparagus? Yes, please! If I have even the slightest opportunity to forage for some wild asparagus while I’m here you can bet your buttons I’ll be out there as quick as can be. When I lived in California I took a class on foraging for wild mushrooms, but I haven’t tried it on my own because it’s crazy dangerous. Picking the wrong mushroom can literally kill you. But I haven’t yet heard of an asparagus that causes a horrible, painful death. Sign me up!

After that I got to meet the youngest daughter’s pet rabbit, Lola. She was unimaginably soft and totally adorable. I love rabbits – both as pets and well….you know. They’re tasty, what can I say?!

All in all, it was a lovely day. I got to spend some quality time with my new host parents and drink some lovely wines. Honestly, after drinking a shocking amount of wine today and not really feeling any effects, I’m starting to wonder if I’m turning into an Italian?! We had good conversation – and are starting to understand each other’s language more and more with each conversation.

Lola, the pet rabbitI really enjoyed the comfortableness I had achieved with my first family. By the time I left we were communicating easily and had gotten to know each other very well. I thought I would miss that when I left – and I do – but meeting and learning about a new family is very fun. And I know that this experience will be all the better for spending time with both families.

International Women's Day (Festa della Donna)

One of the many reasons I wanted to participate in this project was to be able to view the world from another culture’s perspective. Italy isn’t particularly exotic or bizarre, but it offers enough difference to reassess my own ideas and perceptions about the world. One of the things I didn’t expect was to learn new things about my own country.

One of the most recent new things I discovered was International Women’s Day. The other night we were all eating dinner and Maria Carla, my host mom, mentioned that on Thursday she would be going out with her girlfriends for the Festa delle Donna. A fellow language tutor (her blog here) and I at first thought she just meant a girl’s night out – we have those all the time. Through more interpretation and translation, we discovered that this is a day of some significance to Italians, not a simple “girl’s night.”

The family said that the holiday remembers a group of women who were killed in a factory fire. I immediately thought of the Triangle Shirtwaist Fire of 1911 in New York City. I thought it was slightly bizarre to set aside a holiday, or at least a day of remembrance, for an event that transpired in a different country over 100 years ago – even tragic as it was.

When we were heading to school this morning, Fabio, my host dad, presented Maria Carla, Chiara, and myself with a stem of mimosas (proper name, Silver Wattle). I made a joke that I prefer my mimosa’s in a glass, and didn’t really think much more of it. At school, however, little girls and boys kept presenting every woman or girl in sight with little stems of poufy, yellow flowers and the occasional chocolate.

It was all very sweet, and the young girls in particular were surprised that I had never heard of “Women’s Day” nor did we celebrate it in the United States. We had a brief discussion in one class about the different holidays we have in the US and Italy, though we have many more in common than different.

Flowers from my studentsWhen I got home I decided that I needed to know more about this supposed “celebration of women.” I consider myself to be an at least moderately enlightened, empowered woman – how could I possibly be ignorant of something that sounds so profound as International Women’s Day?

And, apparently, incredibly ignorant I am.

International Women’s Day is recognized on the 8^th of March. It was first celebrated as National Women’s Day in the United States after its proposal by the Socialist Party of America. Inspired by the Americans, German Socialist Luise Zietz proposed an international day of recognition for women, though a specific date was not yet selected. One year later, on March 18, 1911 more than one million women in Austria, Denmark, Germany, and Switzerland marked International Women’s Day. The women used demonstrations to demand the right to vote, to decry sexual harassment, and to honor martyrs.

Lenin eventually made it a recognized holiday in the Soviet Union, but it remained a working day until 1965. On May 8, 1965 the Soviet Union declared it a national, non-working holiday “in commemoration of the outstanding merits of Soviet women in communistic construction, in the defense of their Fatherland during the Great Patriotic War, in their heroism and selflessness at the front and in the rear, and also marking the great contribution of women to strengthening friendship between peoples, and the struggle for peace.” (Source)

An International Women's Day poster from 1914 GermanySince then the holiday has largely been celebrated in socialist and communist countries. In 1949, China declared that they would henceforth mark the holiday by giving women a half-day off of work on March 8^th. In 1977 the United Nations invited it’s participating members to mark March 8^th as the UN Day for Women’s Rights and International Peace.

On March 8^th, 2011, President Barack Obama declared March Women’s History Month and called on all Americans to recognize the great women in our past who have helped to build and shape our nation (where was I last March?).

IWD has maintained a rather strong political agenda throughout much of the world. Many demonstrations on March 8^th are to call attention to the particular injustices that women face throughout the world – whether it’s discrimination, sexual violence, political disenfranchisement, or other social and physical ills.

The resurgence of International Women’s Day in the United States in the last few years draws correlations to current injustices with those of the 146 women who died in the Triangle Shirtwaist Fire in 1911. The women were garment workers in a factory, sewing blouses. They endured inhumane, degrading working conditions for extremely long hours. On March 25^th, 1911 a fire broke out. Because the factory owners had chained the doors shut to prevent women from taking breaks or leaving early, and the firefighter’s ladders were too short to reach the 8^th, 9^th, and 10^th floors of the building in which they worked, within 20 minutes all 146 women had either burned alive or thrown themselves onto the pavement below. Their ages ranged from 14 to 48 years old and most were European immigrants.

This event spurred unionization and compelled government officials to create much more strict regulations for the working conditions of factory employees.

Mimosas from FabioIn recent years International Women’s Day has had themes. In 2010 the International Committee of the Red Cross called on the world to recognize the hardships of displaced women and the particular adversities they face. In 2011 the ICRC pressed for awareness of the rape and sexual violence that still takes place against women with alarming regularity throughout the world. This year, 2012, is themed for empowering women through ending hunger and poverty.

In some countries it is still marked with political demonstrations and rallies, but here in Italy it has become more of a day to celebrate the women in your life – similar to Mother’s Day. The men present women with gifts of mimosa flowers and sometimes chocolate. Many women gather for “girls only” dinners with their friends. In the schools it appears a day where the female students just feel happy to be female and singled out for appreciation all day long. A simple, but sweet notion I can admire. Sometimes it can be hard to just be happy being female.

I am heartily surprised that I had no clue about this holiday – and in fact a bit ashamed considering it began in the United States and has apparently been in the news. Hell, I lived in Washington DC on March 8^th, 2011 and had no idea there was even a rally in town. To be fair, I likely had my nose buried in a textbook, but still.

I like this holiday though, and think there can’t really be too much recognition of the brave women who sacrificed so much before me so that I can have the rights I hold today. To look at countries like Saudi Arabia and know that women there still can’t even legally drive completely blows my mind.

So, in recognition of International Women’s Day, turn to the women in your life and say thank you. Thank you for being kind, thank you for being patient, thank you for being a strong, wonderful, amazing woman.

Florence

View from Piazzale MichelangeloOne of the benefits of the program in which I am participating is that they don’t work you to death. You work an average of 15-20 hours per week and the rest of the time is yours. I say that’s a pretty fair deal for room and board.

Right now there are several of us in the Marche region working either with schools or family. In the Montecosaro/Civitanova area alone there are at least 6 of us, varying in age from 21 to 66. Four of us decided to travel to Florence this last weekend and enjoyed some beautiful weather and amazing sightseeing.

I was the only one who had already been to Florence, albeit only for a couple of days last year. I was surprised at just how well I remembered where most of the landmarks were and was able to guide us around fairly easily (assisted by the always amazing Google Maps on my cell phone).

View of the Arno and Florence from near our hotelWe were able to hop a direct bus line from Civitanova Marche to Firenze for only €54 roundtrip (about $72). It was only about 4 ½ hour ride and we were dropped right in the heart of the city at the autobus station (next to the Santa Maria Novella train station). Some of us were on a tighter budget than others, so I booked one of the least expensive rooms in the city at the Hotel Crocini.

All of the lamposts along the Arno have these feetEven better feet at Piazzale Michelangelo

 I wasn’t really sure what to expect, considering it was only about €50 per night in the historic district of Florence, but it turned out to be the perfect place to rest our heads in between sightseeing jaunts. It was only about a 1km walk from the station (½  mile), less than a block from the banks of the Arno river, two blocks from the American Embassy, and less than a 20 minute walk to even the farthest landmarks.

American Embassy in FlorenceSpeaking of the American Embassy, it was kind of surprising. As we were walking to our hotel we noticed lots of Italian military milling about and several of the streets were blocked off. When we got to our hotel we asked the guy at the front desk if there was something going on – some kind of police action or major event – and he said no, it’s just for our embassy. No one can drive within a block of it and it’s guarded at all times. Apparently those security measures are in place for American entities all over the world.

I could wax on about how I feel about that and how long it takes for Italian guards to react to tourists with cameras, but I won’t. Suffice it to say that I think it’s weird that Italians are guarding an American institution.

The Ponte VecchioWe were just a ten minute walk down the Arno from the Ponte Vecchio and enjoyed some divine gelato once we got there. Gelato is almost always good, as anyone who’s visited Italy would know. But in Florence, it’s just…better. I don’t know if they do something differently from other regions or if they’ve just been honing their craft longer, but it’s out-of-this-world good. I’d been looking forward to returning to one specific place for some pistachio gelato and was very happy to arrive and find it just as I remembered it.

After the Ponte Vecchio we wandered over to the Piazza della Signoria, the giant square filled with statues that flanks the Uffizi. There’s a replica of the David, as well as many other statues like Perseus holding the head of Medusa. We never did make it into the Uffizi – getting tickets was nearly impossible and the lines were hours long, but we will make it a priority next time we go back.

The UffiziPerseus and Medusa....or at least part of herAfter the Piazza della Signoria we made it over to the Basilica di Santa Croce, one of my favorite areas in the historic center of Florence. They charge to get into the church and were being rather stingy with the tickets, but I managed to sneak a few shots of the courtyard through a particularly nice wrought-iron door anyways. 

Basilica di Santa CroceFellow language tutor and I

 I also fell in love with a  woman’s watercolor paintings of Tuscany. She had set up a little display of her work in front of the basilica and I just couldn’t pass them up. I snatched a monochromatic piece for a paltry €25. Seriously. An original watercolor for around $40 US. Amazing.

We were getting pretty hungry at that point, so we stopped at a café and had dinner outside . It turned out to be a little more expensive than anyone wanted, but it was delicious so we tried not to complain too much. There’s not much you can do for bargain hunting in the historic (read: tourist-filled) sections of Florence. I had a handmade pappardelle with a wild boar ragu. Pretty tasty – though I think it might have made me sick.

Sunset on the ArnoI woke up on Friday morning with a scratchy throat. I thought it might have been from a mild bout of heartburn after spicy pizza on Thursday night, but as Friday went on it got progressively worse and worse. By the time we made it to the Basilica di Santa Croce, my voice was almost completely gone and I was coughing and hacking like a lung was going to pop out at any minute. I was determined to not let a little sickness get in the way of a good time, so I soldiered on – although I did inform my travel partners that were I to actually cough up a lung, they were obliged to keep it on ice for me.

Watercolor I bought at Basilica di Santa CroceHowever, just an hour or so after eating dinner I started experiencing some rather unpleasant gastric rumblings reminiscent of my last stay in Rome – where I got some particularly brutal food poisoning that required the care of a doctor. I decided the smart thing to do was to go back to my hotel and rest. My travel partners went exploring on their own for the rest of the evening and I crawled into bed and hoped that by Saturday morning I would once again feel human. Cue a fever, chills, and all sorts of other unpleasantness – Friday night was not kind to me.

When Saturday morning rolled around I was feeling a bit better. I managed to kick my fever and my gastro-distress, but the throat issue was still out in full force. I wasn’t willing to let it ruin my weekend or my friends’ though, so off we went to explore.

Learning my Italian gestures - very niceThe more I travel, the more I recognize the necessity of some of the more touristy features of large cities. My preferred method of parsing a new area is to very quickly bang out all of the touristy places, get the requisite photos, do the cheesy poses, and whatnot – and then spend the majority of my time just wandering around backstreets and seeing the city as the locals do. One of the easiest ways to accomplish that in a short, weekend-long visit is to utilize the hop-on, hop-off tour buses. They are cheesy and ridiculous and utterly touristy, but they are an effective means of transport around a large area filled with historical attractions and landmarks. Plus they have a little box at each seat you can plug your headphones into to get an audio guide to each landmark you see on the tour.

In Florence the sightseeing buses have two routes. One has a smaller loop that hits the majority of the landmarks and stops at each spot every thirty minutes or so on weekends, every 60 minutes during the week. You can get on or off as many times as you like within a 48-hour period. The other loop is more like a tour. It runs three times per day on weekends and has a much longer route, leaving the city at one point to venture up the hills into Fiesole. You can get on or off as you like, similar to the other route, but it’s not really meant for such. We rode the entire length of the tour-route, complete with a 30 minute break in Fiesole for a glance through the small market and a lovely cappuccino. Then we grabbed a quick lunch at a trattoria near the Mercato Centrale and hopped onto the other bus route.

View from the road to Galileo's houseOur first venture off the bus was to the very famous Piazzale Michelangelo that overlooks the city. We got plenty of photos, both of the city and us goofing around. We then took a walk down the hill to see the house in which Galileo was imprisoned until his death. There were some nice views to be had along the walk, but it was longer than any of us were expecting and I wasn’t feeling so hot by this time. Thankfully we arrived at a stop for the sightseeing bus just a moment before it was scheduled to arrive, so we hopped back on to rest for a bit. 

Antique brass candle holder I bought in FiesoleI was just about down for the count because of my health issues, so I got off the bus at the stop closest to my hotel and went back to rest for a few hours. My travel partners went off sightseeing on their own and had a nice time.

Later that night two of us walked just a few dozen yards to Il Conte Mascetti, a restaurant that serves the famous Bistecca di Fiorentina – a behemoth piece of meat that makes the Flintstone’s look positively vegetarian. It’s spendy, about €45 for the two- to three-person steak, but it is so incredibly worth it. It was easily one of the best steaks I have ever had in my entire life. It was meltingly tender, cooked perfectly rare, and seasoned with those great big chunks of sale grosso everyone in Italy seems to love so much. The server was a little snooty, in my opinion, but the food was good (aside from the overwhelmingly salty side of spinach) and it was extremely close to our hotel. I’m glad we splurged on the steak – it was definitely an experience to remember. I definitely enjoy traveling with someone who appreciate the culinary side of a city – what better way to enjoy a new place than to eat the foods for which they are famous?

Sunday morning we traipsed over to the Piazza della Signoria to see if there was a chance at getting into the Uffizi – no such luck. The line was enormous. No thanks, I didn’t come to Florence to stand in line. Instead we bought some more art in the square. My friend got a piece for her parents and I bought a small, original watercolor (very different style from my other piece) as a gift for a certain someone who counts Florence as one of her all-time favorite places (she knows who she is).

Then we headed over to this little wine shop in a tiny little street near the Ponte Vecchio. One of my travel partners had been wandering around by herself the night before and stumbled across a violinist and a pianist practicing for a matinee concert the next day. They invited her back for the show, and we couldn’t pass it up.  We ended up in the tiny little shop, listening to essentially a private concerto by two very gifted musicians, and sampling some beautiful sparkling wines.

After the show my friend and I got to chatting with the two musicians and they invited us along for lunch at a local restaurant. It’s this little hole in the wall, family-style place called Trattoria Nella where we had some of the most amazing pasta I’ve ever had – in Italy or otherwise. It was a handmade tagliatelle with tartufo, or truffles. It was topped with grated grana padano, one of my favorite hard cheeses. It was….divine. There’s really no other way to say it. If you know how much I like truffles, you know how much I savored every last bite of that black truffle cream sauce.

My friend and I had a great time – sitting in an obscure, family restaurant in the backstreets of Florence filled with solely Florentines (aside from ourselves, obviously), chatting with two musicians, the proprietor of the wine shop in which the concerto was held, and some of their Italian friends. It was an amazing experience and definitely the best possible way we could have ended our stay in Florence.

We’re already planning our next trip back to see more of the countryside. Now this is the Italy I’ve been looking for.

Mozzarella in Civitanova

There are few things more quintessentially Italian than Mozzarella cheese. It is so highly appreciated and desired that much of it even maintains a Denominazione di origine controllata (DOC), or protected geographical status in English. This is similar to Roquefort or Champagne – only products produced in that area and with a specific method and ingredients can be labeled as such.

Here in Civitanova, a lovely man named Giuseppe runs one of the only places in this region that makes fresh mozzarella every day. He hails from Puglia, and spent thirty years there making cheese. One year ago he opened Le Bonta’ del Latte in Civitanova and has been gracing the residents with his divine dairy creations ever since.

Now, in the United States I’m not a huge fan of mozzarella, especially the fresh kind. It’s kind of a flavorless lump that adds nothing of value to most dishes. I’d much rather use a nice tallegio or fontina to top a pizza than the bland junk that passes as fresh mozzarella at home.

Knottini just a few minutes after completionHere in Italy, however, it is an art – and one best served fresh. Very fresh. Made that day or it’s not worth eating fresh. And, as I found out last Saturday, eating it a few minutes after it is made will inspire heart palpitations and declarations of undying love for the region of Puglia and it’s cheesemakers.

Mozzarella, like most things worth eating and appreciating, is rather simple to make. In fact, it’s one of the easiest cheeses for novices to attempt at home, right after ricotta. What it requires for greatness, however, is a high-level of quality of its main ingredient – milk – and a few decades of experience doesn’t hurt either.

After arranging it the prior week, we arrived at the shop around 8:30 am to watch Giuseppe work his alchemy. He had already worked long enough to create the separation of curds and whey and was carefully stretching and manipulating the curds into a silky, creamy mass. Much of the transformation occurs with quick changes in temperature of water. Moving it from one bath to another shocks the curds, then Giuseppe caringly stirs the mixture with his hands, then with the handle of a large wooden paddle, and then works it over the paddle itself.

After he gets it to the precise consistency he desires, he forms it into a large number of different shapes. He takes small pieces and ties them into a granny knot to make knottini. Or he’ll smooth and squeeze the cheese into great big balls, or tiny little bocconcini. He braids some, then stretches even more into great big strips, perfect for making straciatella, the creamy, stringy, probably-literally-heart-stopping-goodness that is a combination of cheese and heavy cream.

Braids and knottini

Stretching for straciatella

Mozzarella elephantI think we all would agree that our favorite was the mozzarella elefante he shaped for us. Seriously. Cheese animals. This guy is amazing.

The process is simple enough, but watching Giuseppe work his craft was truly amazing. He takes pride in his craft and it shows – the mozzarella he offered us just moments after it was finished was one of the best foods I have ever eaten in my entire life. Watching him methodically manipulate the cheese from a craggy mess into a silky smooth, perfectly salted mozzarella was cathartic in its own way. I truly felt honored to be invited into his store and to watch him work.

Giuseppe makes the mozzarellaI eat the mozzarellaIn fact, when I move to my next host family in two weeks or so, I’ll be close enough to pop over whenever I want. And Giuseppe, amazing person that he is, invited me to start in the early morning with him to actually help make the cheese with him. Mozzarella might be a fairly simple cheese to make, but learning from a true Italian artisan? Talk about an experience worth more than gold.

Nelle ultime 24 ore ...

List of awesome things that happened in the last 24 hours:

• Partied in an Italian nightclub
• Got free drinks all night long
• Woke up without a hangover (almost)
• Watched a man with 30 years of experience make mozzarella by hand in his shop
• Got to eat said mozzarella 2 minutes after completion
• Got to buy said mozzarella for dinner
• Got all sorts of other amazing goodness for a feast from Puglia compliments of my host mom, Maria Carla
• Was invited to return to the shop to actually make the mozzarella with the  owner and craftsman at a future date
• Enjoyed beautiful, sunny weather while walking around the weekly mercado in Civitanova
• Found a great cardigan, hat, and scarf for only €12 total at said market
• Took an amazing nap and woke up fully rested, not groggy
• Had a delicious feast composed almost entirely of foods from the region of Puglia
• Spoke equally in Italian and English at dinner with my host family and fellow language tutors
• Found out my mother-in-law received my degree in the mail today
• Toasted the final part of my graduation with friends and new members of family with an AMAZING bottle of Spumante compliments of Fabio
• Getting ready to go to sleep so that we can go eat lunch tomorrow with Fabio’s awesome parents.

I’m seriously loving Italy. The only bad part is that I miss my husband like crazy. But, it only makes it that much sweeter when I finally get to see him again.

 So here’s to an amazing day. Buonanotte!