At long last, the Uffizi (and a bit of Florence too)

On my final chilly night in Pisa, I wrapped up all my belongings. The next morning we left my keys on the dining room table, wheeled my bags out, and shut my door for the last time. We “enjoyed” a final mad dash across my hometown to catch the next train to Florence. Braving several forms of public transportation with the past seven months of my life in a few suitcases, I soon realized that perhaps not all of my belongings were really that essential.

After relieving ourselves of our burden at the hostel, we traversed Florence, checking out the Duomo and the Battistero, across the piazza from the Duomo and adorned with several sets of bronze doors including the famous Gates of Paradise designed in 1425 by Ghiberti. After more than six months in Tuscany, I at last made it in my final day to the Uffizi Gallery, the most famous Florentine art museum I had been meaning to see for ages. This building originally housed the uffizi, or offices, of the de Medici, the Florentine ruling family. The artwork in the architecture and decor of the building alone is amazing. Displayed inside are sculptures and paintings by famous artists including Michaelangelo, Botticelli, Raphael, Leonardo. Wandering through the halls, I think Christie and I were both particularly struck by the number of androgenous sculptures. Afterward, we returned to a small, classic Italian restaurant where I’d eaten with Jack and Ivan. Here we enjoyed some pasta and calzones before trekking across the very cold city in a pure show of dedication to our nightly Italian delicacy, gelato. After a brief detour to admire the Ponte Vecchio, we arrived at the Gelateria dei Neri where I enjoyed some gelato alla ricotta e fichi, ricotta and fig flavored gelato. Ready to turn in for an early evening, we were greeted at the hostel by a group of very friendly Australians and a Canadian with whom we shared a memorable evening together. Sleep is lovely, but there are times when the deprivation is worth every minute.

New Year's in Rome

Wandering through the streets of Rome, Christie and I stumbled across the Colosseum unintentionally on our first night in the Eternal City. We shared a nice sit-down meal of penne con salmone and a liter of house wine to celebrate the start of our adventures together. We wrapped the evening up with some gelato—I had two of my favorites, Malaga (rum raisin) and coco (coconut)—on our way home, and we turned in for an earlier and much warmer evening compared to the previous night in Pisa.

On New Year’s Eve, we began our morning with cappuccinos in a classy café on our way to Vatican City. We toured Saint Peter’s Basilica, admiring Michelangelo’s Pietà and many beautiful sculptures of brightly colored marble. Rising over the papal altar is Bernini’s baldacchino (canopy), completed in 1633 under Pope Urban VIII of the Barberini family. Pope Urban VIII’s family symbol, bees decorate the ornate structure. Outside, Scottish guards in traditional attire still guard the basilica.

After lunch, Christie and I did a bit of shopping along Via del Corso, saw the Trevi Fountain, and refueled on coffees at the bar of the famous Tazza d’Oro (literally translated, "Cup of Gold") coffee shop. Then we visited the Pantheon, which has stood nearly unchanged since its construction was completed in 125AD under Hadrian. After leaving the area, we stumbled into Chiesa di Santa Maria Sopra Minerva, an entirely unimpressive exterior which hides Rome’s only gothic-church, brilliantly painted and home to several masterpieces including Michelangelo’s Christ Bearing the Cross statue which stands unguarded and in easy reach to the left side of the altar. I was impressed by this remarkable hidden gem.

In the afternoon, we checked out the Forum and the Colosseum before dinner and gelato. We made our way to the Piazza del Popolo with time to spare and scouted out a prime spot to watch the fireworks. We were surrounded by people speaking all Western (and even some Eastern) European languages. As the time approached, Christie and I shared a noisy countdown and began shouting and cheering as my watch turned since this was our closest estimate of precisely when the clock changed. As luck would have it, the crowd erupted into cheers all at more or less the same time, so we seemed to have it about right. Champagne corks flew, fireworks shot up, and eventually bottles took to the air as we celebrated the turn of the New Year and Christie’s birthday.

I still can’t believe the year on my brass rat finally matches the one on the calendar. You can only imagine how I am anticipating June 5, 2009. On that first morning of what promises to be a most exciting year, we allowed ourselves a slow start. We found our way to the Jewish Ghetto by lunch time. We wandered through Piazza Mattei, home to Taddeo Landini’s Fontana della Tartarughe, in the heart of the neighborhood to which Pope Paul IV confined Rome’s Jewish population in 1555. There, we sought shelter from the rain in a small restaurant. Later that afternoon, we made it out to the Circus Maximus, once Rome’s largest stadium, to discover that all that is left of it is just a grassy field. That evening we celebrated Christie’s birthday with a nice meal and some strawberry wine. Afterwards, we found an excellent gelateria, Della Palma, near the Pantheon, where I had a particularly wonderful flavor, sesamo e mielo (sesame and honey).

Our trip to Rome would not have been complete without a day in the Vatican museums, so after a stop for cappuccinos and chocolate-filled croissants we took our place in the quickly growing line. Touring the museums, we saw famous works by Raphael, Romanesque and Egyptian statues, and even many modern works. One of my favorites was the Crocifissione by Dono Tancredi Loreti, shown on the left. Christie happened to sit down in the Sistene Chapel next to a young American touring Rome with his parents. He had been living in Rome for some months studying to enter the priesthood. These Americans were quite friendly, and it was interesting to think of the different significance the room must hold for each of us. I was particularly excited to get to see Rodin’s The Thinker statue though I’d never realized that is really is quite small. To exit the Vatican museums, one must walk down Donato Bramante’s famous spiral staircase, designed in the early 1500s.

We wrapped up our trip with a final victory: on our way back towards the station, we stopped in at a small boutique and found Christie the Italian leather jacket she’d been aching to find. We then chatted over a couple of cappuccinos to kill the final hour before making our way to the train station and heading back to Pisa.

Eurotrip, Winter Edition

Today when Christie walked through the gates at the airport, I was already waiting with a big hug for her. The time had finally come: last August, we booked all our flights, reserved our hostels, and made plans for her to spend her Christmas vacation touring Europe with me. What a way to finish out my study abroad experience, touring with one of my best friends from high school, definitely the one who’s heard the most about all of my experiences over the past six months.

Today we just chilled around Pisa, both figuratively and literally. You see, the heat in my apartment is not working (nor is the hot water), so we had to be quite creative that night to stay warm after we’d visited the tower and the duomo, gotten our first Italian coffees together, gone back to lab for my final bit of work, and run a few errands around the city. Fortunately, the Italian fashion police did not have access to my apartment, so no one has to be any the wiser of the fashion crimes committed this evening in the confines of my chilly home.

È stato un piacere: Saying "So Long"

In a glorious culinary culmination of our time together, Claudia and I at last cooked the pumpkin pie we’d been discussing since Thanksgiving, when we’d been unable to locate a pumpkin. We topped the pie with walnuts and pistachio (the latter for a bit of Sicilian flair), mascarpone, and fior di latte gelato. This was Claudia’s first taste of this autumnal delight. It was absolutely magnificent and allowed me to finally feel as though Christmas had arrived. Our masterpiece disappeared from the kitchen quite quickly: apparently Italians can also appreciate some American cuisine.

Later that night, Claudia, Fabrizio, Giovanni, and I went to Palermo’s first “Facebook Party.” The purpose of these parties is somewhat beyond me, but nearly every major city in Italy has had one within the past few weeks. It sounds to me like saying, “Well, why don’t we have a party and just invite everyone between the ages of 15 and 30?” but Italians seem to love the concept. They all get together, drink wine, and stand around talking for ages while a DJ blasts music to which few people dance. In Italy, young people don’t dance like they do in the US. Here, talking is the thing to do at parties. Facebook, as I mentioned in an entry a few months ago, is one of the newest crazes to hit Italy and has been fully embraced. I am amazed how long young Italians can discuss who’s posted new photos, added an application, or joined another Facebook cause. It seems to me like getting together with friends to discuss recent emails, spam filters, and the latest stupid forward going around. Nonetheless, I let myself enjoy my last night out with Claudia as roommates.

As I stood next to Claudia at the bus stop this morning, I realized my chest was starting to hurt so I tried readjusting my luggage strap, but when the airport shuttle arrived I understood what I’d been feeling: I could hardly bear saying goodbye. As I watched Claudia and her father turn their backs through the maddeningly tinted windows that prevented any final waving goodbye, I found tears streaming down my cheeks. As I said to Claudia with our final hug, È stato un piacere: It’s been a pleasure.

“So what now? It's plain to see we're over,
And I hate when things are over,
When so much is left undone” –Deep Blue Something, Breakfast at Tiffany’s

A Classically Sicilian Villa and Some Spicy Desserts in Modica

Claudia insisted that we see her father’s hometown before I left Sicily. I didn’t quite appreciate why we had to, but I loaded into the car with her father, brother, and her and took the drive through rolling hills with a distinctly Italian driver. Fortunately, I have a strong stomach.

In Modica, we met a couple who led us into a gorgeous, old, beautifully restored villa which, I soon learned, was the home where Claudia’s father had been raised. A few years ago, after her grandmother had passed away, Claudia’s family had sold the villa but have stayed on good terms with the current owners. I couldn’t believe the house: with its thick stone walls, arched entryways between rooms, old furniture, airy design for Sicily’s moderate climate, and vista over the hilly town, it was everything a classical Italian house should be. We sat down at the table to share some orzo, an interesting caffeine-free, coffee-type drink made from roasted barley which is quite popular in Italy. We also shared some treats from a local pasticceria, pastry shop, while we chatted with the new owners.

Afterward, we took advantage of our free time to explore the town a bit. We visited several cioccolaterie, chocolate shops, selling all sorts of trendy, modern, stone-ground chocolates in many flavors. Claudia even treated me to two of my favorites, cinnamon flavored and hot-pepper flavored chocolate bars. And as any trip to an Italian town would be incomplete without a sampling of the local gelato, we also made a stop at a gelateria where I got gelato alla canella and al cioccolato al pepperoncino, cinnamon and spicy chocolate. It was a scrumptious way to take advantage of one of my last chances to get some flavors I haven’t found often outside of this delicious country I’ve been calling home.

Buon Natale e Tanti Auguri!

Christmas finally arrived and I celebrated in Italian style. Claudia’s family and I shared a full course meal, with appetizers, entrees, first courses, second courses, side dishes, fruit with mascarpone, and desserts. There was more food readily available than any of us could consume, and Claudia’s mother even provided us all with menus to prepare us for the gustatory delights she had in store.

Though Claudia and her cousins (and there weren’t many of them despite our stereotypes of Italian families) are all in their late twenties or thirties, none of them were married, none were in long-term relationships, and none had children or plans for them in the near future. It seemed so strange to me. At home, my older cousins and I all date people and often bring them along to family parties on the holidays. Though just in our young twenties, all of us have graduations in our near futures and general ideas for careers not too far ahead. With an average Italian college graduation age in the late twenties, I suppose Claudia and her cousins should not have surprised me. The vast majority of Claudia’s high school friends are not married or engaged, and the only one with a child had caused a scandal when she became pregnant during her final year in high school. I have heard that the birth rate in Italy is negative and now it seems much more understandable. The culture really seems to hold young people in an awkward sort of limbo for longer than is biologically advantageous or advisable.

Linguistically, I was thoroughly amused to realize that in Italian, it is not only acceptable but normal to refer to your aunt or uncle as just “Aunt” or “Uncle.” In fact, no one addresses aunts or uncles as Aunt/Uncle [insert name here]. And in Italian, it doesn’t sound fresh in front of one’s own grandmother to say things like, “the grandma wants the salt” or “the grandma needs a knife.” Even if no one else appreciated it, I still had to hold in a laugh or two. Sometimes things are just lost in translation.

From Mountain Tops to Shorelines to Historical Downtown Palermo

Only a day after arriving in Sicily, Claudia and I loaded ourselves onto a bus to cross the island towards Palermo, the fifth most populous city in Italy and home of our friends Arianna and Danilo. Palermo is over 2700 years old, and is rich is its culture, history, and geography. The two full days we spent there far from covered all the city has to offer. On our first day, we admired Sferra Cavallo on the Tyrrhenian Sea and I could not get over the fact that I was walking freely along a beach three days before Christmas. In the afternoon we were treated with Part One of our grand Tour of Palermo, guided by Armando, Arianna’s childhood friend with a passion for Sicilian architecture and history.

We grabbed some traditional food at the Antica Focacceria San Francesco, a focacceria famous for refusing to pay the pizo, the Mafia’s tax. It is thus constantly guarded by Carabinieri, the most effective Italian police force. I was amazed to hear my friends’ attitude towards the Mafia. While they don’t personally support it or take part in it, they explained to me that the Mafia is a part of the culture, even perhaps the true governing force in Sicily. Many Sicilians do not see themselves as a part of the state of Italy but as more of an independent entity governed and guarded by the Mafia. The Mafia, at least in Sicily, is viewed as fairly effective and generally does not harm anyone who has not directly confronted or challenged them. Citizens scoff at tourists’ fears that the Mafia would waste its time on people who have nothing to do with its affairs. I found this all an incredibly interesting and wholly different perspective.

After dinner we returned to the city center where we saw the Teatro Massimo, the largest theater in Italy and the third largest in Europe. It’s an architectural feat for which Sicilians are quite proud. I absolutely loved how the main stairs were filled in the center with a blanket of poinsettia plants giving the appearance of a giant red carpet lining the steps up to the theater. During the later part of the past century, the theater closed for some routine safety renovations and did not open again until 1997, twenty-three years later. Efficiency is not always high in Italian priorities.

The next day we drove up Monte Pellegrino, which offers a breath-taking vista across the Tyrrhenian Sea and the city of Palermo. We also took a power tour through the seashore of Mondello before our train left for the city center.

That evening we returned to the Centro Storico, the historical center of Palermo, for Part Two with Armando. One of the first things we saw, after the inside of a pasticceria, or pastry shop, was the Palermo Cathedral, built in 1185. Though chiefly designed in Gothic-Catalan style, it was renovated until the 1800s and shows influences from many different schools of architecture. Inside this church you can find a meridian across the floor with all the symbols for the different astrological signs. I believe some sort of light shines in through the some window overhead and based upon the time of year will hit the appropriate zodiac symbol. Inside, the cathedral was incredibly ornate and beautifully decorated as was to be expected, I suppose, but proved quite impressive nonetheless.

After leaving the cathedral, we walked through an immense market selling all sorts of fresh produce, regional foods, and spices. The sounds, colors, and smells painted a wonderfully old-world Sicilian image. It was a path few tourists seemed to cross, and I was thrilled to wander through it with my Sicilian friends. I had t resist urges to buy all sorts of wonderfully colored, delicious looking items since I knew Arianna’s mother would have another delicious, typically Italian dinner waiting for us when we came home that night.

I couldn’t believe how much Armando knew about nearly every building and piazza we passed, and I certainly couldn’t absorb most of it. I did learn, however, that for the brief period of time around 1000 AD after the Arabs took over rule of Sicily from the Byzantines has had a strong lasting influence on Palermo. It was during this time that Palermo truly rose to prominence in Sicily. By 1100 AD Sicily was under the rule of the Normans, and so the classical architecture across the city is a blend of traditional Norman and Arabic style. What a fascinating blend! Between 1300 and 1700, Sicily was under Spanish rule (first through the House of Aragon, which ruled the part of Spain nearest France where Barcelona is located), and this culture’s architecture and language has also left strong traces throughout the city. I was captivated by all the magnificent churches we saw and also undeniably surprised to notice at buildings scattered throughout the city that have still not been repaired since World War II (love that Italian efficiency), though I suppose on the scale of Sicilian history, not much time has passed since those buildings were damaged.

We passed through the Quattro Canti, a square which divides Sicily into its four mandamenti, or quarters. It was beautifully decorated for Christmas and generally ornate with sculptures of the four seasons, the four Spanish kings of Sicily, and the four patronesses of Sicily on the four buildings that delineate the square. After this we visited our final church, Chiesa Sant’Andrea Avellino. I realized as I was listening to Armando describe all this history and watching my friends admire the architecture that the experience was quite different for me and them. It was all so exciting and exotic for me whereas this was their history, their home that they were exploring. At one time, it had been my ancestors’ story too, but it is not mine. I felt distinctly like an outsider, yet it wasn’t disconcerting. Being an outsider has its advantages, too.