Saturday afternoon I wandered through the train station in Perugia. Sitting on this bench, reading a book over on that bench, purchasing phone minutes and fruit mentos from the bar next to the bench, and periodically checking the train arrival schedule.
After much anticipation, the train from Foligno arrived at 4:00pm.
After shrieking to a stop, the passengers unloaded one by one, dragging their rolling suitcases behind them. But alas, my sought after travelers were no where to be found.
I resigned myself to another bench as I waited for the train from Rome.
Finally, the train from Rome arrived and Patti and my dad stepped down onto the platform. They had made it! Apparently it had been quite an adventure traveling in Rome on Easter Sunday and our usual methods of communication had been inconveniently stolen by a gypsy. (I will name no names). Hence, the slight uncertainty on the exact arrival date of my Dad and Patti.
We gratefully left the station after our reunion hugs and kisses and began our Perugian adventure by taking the mini metro into the historical center. During our two and a half days together I was able to show them just about everything that I have enjoyed about Perugia; the beautiful II century rotunda church, the parks, the historical frescoes by the Perugino, the steps in the center, the panoramic views, the university, the gelato, wine, and the of course, the pizza.
The last day of their trip we regretfully said our goodbyes in from of the University building and then I went off to prepare for my final Italian presentation. As Patti and Dad traveled by train back to Rome I presented a 15 min presentation in Italian on the city of Austin. After receiving so many questions, inquiries, and comments about cowboys, I had decided to provide my Italian professor at the Umbra Institute with a little information about the Texas capital.
Today my classes are pretty much wrapped up, I have taken the final test at the University, given the presentation, and already sent one suitcase home with my Dad.
Looks like my remaining time in Italy is ticking. Three days to bid my friends and roommates (who have really become a family to me) goodbye as they wish me a buon viaggio back to The United States.
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
Mantova- city of bicycles
This past weekend I visited Mantova, a little city about an hour and a half away from Verona. Lined with cobblestone streets surrounding a spacious town center, Mantova is a beautiful medevial town with fresco filled, ancient palaces.
I went on two separate tours led in Italian by a local woman who reccounted famous stories of the nobles who lived, conducted business, and hosted parties in these spaciously lavish mansions.In the Palazzo Ducale I learned that the previous town rulers and aristocrats did not bathe very often (once a year), as they thought it was bad for your health. Because of this, perfume and scented powders were heavily used. The architecture was incredible.
The architects thought it would be clever to design the palace in such a way that every room felt like/appeared to be on the first floor. The floor gently slopes either up or down in every hallway and room, but there are very little stairs. While looking at a beautiful garden outside of one window the guide explained that the garden, which appeared to be on the ground, was actually lifted up on pillars to create the feeling that you were on the ground floor.
On Sunday we took a bicycle tour led by the same woman and heard stories of love, war, and family rivalries while gazing at frescoes of the under sides of horses and greek gods galloping above our heads. My favorite frescoes were the ones which were designed to appear so life like that when you walked across the room, the arms seemed to clench and unclench, and the eyes followed you. Often the paintings were personalized and the artist would depict an ancient mythological scene that somehow reflected the life or charactor of his employer, creating a kind of advertisement for the family name.
It seems that every Italian town has its own unique history and hidden historical/artistic wonders.
I went on two separate tours led in Italian by a local woman who reccounted famous stories of the nobles who lived, conducted business, and hosted parties in these spaciously lavish mansions.In the Palazzo Ducale I learned that the previous town rulers and aristocrats did not bathe very often (once a year), as they thought it was bad for your health. Because of this, perfume and scented powders were heavily used. The architecture was incredible.
The architects thought it would be clever to design the palace in such a way that every room felt like/appeared to be on the first floor. The floor gently slopes either up or down in every hallway and room, but there are very little stairs. While looking at a beautiful garden outside of one window the guide explained that the garden, which appeared to be on the ground, was actually lifted up on pillars to create the feeling that you were on the ground floor.
On Sunday we took a bicycle tour led by the same woman and heard stories of love, war, and family rivalries while gazing at frescoes of the under sides of horses and greek gods galloping above our heads. My favorite frescoes were the ones which were designed to appear so life like that when you walked across the room, the arms seemed to clench and unclench, and the eyes followed you. Often the paintings were personalized and the artist would depict an ancient mythological scene that somehow reflected the life or charactor of his employer, creating a kind of advertisement for the family name.
It seems that every Italian town has its own unique history and hidden historical/artistic wonders.
Sunday, March 27, 2011
A Swedish dinner in Italy
Yesterday I spent the whole day with my Swedish roomate, Lovisa. Lovisa has been tutoring an Italian friend named Roberto in Swedish for the past couple months and they had made the mutual decision to throw a dinner party made up of all Swedish plates. The problem was, up until 3pm Lovisa still had no idea what she wanted to make. So with only the apples and potatoes we had bought at the Saturday market, we set off for Roberto's apartment to brainstorm, google search, and make an official grocery list. Once at Roberto's, we added up the guest list and found that the number of invitees had climbed to 14 people. Between our roomates and Roberto's Italian roomates and friends, we had a big, hungry group of people heading our way around 9pm. Needless to say, we were going to need a few more potatoes. After many urgent promptings from Roberto, slight decision making resistence from Lovisa ("We can just decide when we are in the store.."), a long distance call to a Swedish mother, and a few adorable squinty grins, Lovisa finally settled on a dinner of Swedish potatoes on the side of a fish and vegetable broth main course with cinnamon rolls and apple crumble for dessert. A trip to the nearby grocery store led us right back to the apartment where Roberto's roomates and I began peeling potatoes. (Side note: An Italian expression, "go peel potatoes," started as a military exression but outside of that means just twiddle your thumbs, ie. don't do anything.) We peeled, sliced, diced, chopped, mixed, sprinkled, and stirred under the direction of our Swedish chef for the next few hours. As people began showing up around 9:15 pm the potatoes were almost ready, the fish was cooking with the vegetables, the cinammon roles were in the oven and the apples were chopped for the apple crumble. Despite the fact that the rolls were a little soggy, (stupid oven) the dinner was a big success and all credit went to Lovisa. During the informal dinner party we filled the kitchen and most of us stood with our plastic plates having conversations in Italian, English, German, and the occasional Swedish lesson from Lovisa. Around midnight we parted ways, most of the group heading off to a party some Spanish students were putting on (no doubt there was food being cooked there too) and the rest of us headed home.
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
Il giorno delle donne!
Tanti Auguri per il giorno delle donne!
Oggi, il 8 di Marzo e' un giorno speciale quando tutte le donne in Italia celebrano il feminismo e anche ricordono le donne che hanno ucciso nel fuoco della fabbrica a Chicago negli Stati Uniti tanti anni fa. Stasera, per celebrare, molte donne cenerano insieme e tutto il giorno ricevano un tipo di fiore giallo, il primo fiore della primavera, che representa questo giorno speciale per le donne.
Today, the 8th of March is a special day when all women in Italy celebrate femminism and also remember the women who were killed in the factory fire in Chicago in the US many years ago. Tonight, to celebrate, many women will eat dinner together and all day long receive yellow flowers, the first flower of the spring, that reprents this special day for women.
So thankful for all of the women in my life!
Oggi, il 8 di Marzo e' un giorno speciale quando tutte le donne in Italia celebrano il feminismo e anche ricordono le donne che hanno ucciso nel fuoco della fabbrica a Chicago negli Stati Uniti tanti anni fa. Stasera, per celebrare, molte donne cenerano insieme e tutto il giorno ricevano un tipo di fiore giallo, il primo fiore della primavera, che representa questo giorno speciale per le donne.
Today, the 8th of March is a special day when all women in Italy celebrate femminism and also remember the women who were killed in the factory fire in Chicago in the US many years ago. Tonight, to celebrate, many women will eat dinner together and all day long receive yellow flowers, the first flower of the spring, that reprents this special day for women.
So thankful for all of the women in my life!
Sunday, March 6, 2011
Carnivale a Venezia
Yesterday at 6am I walked from my apartment to the pullman (bus) that would take over one hundred students studying at the University of Foreigners on a five hour ride to Carnivale in Venice. On the way, I chatted with my friend Yesse, originally from Togo in Africa and now working in Perugia as a mathematician and computer programer. At a rest stop I met the woman sitting behind me. She and her son, who was sitting next to her, came from Conneticut to Perugia so she could get credit for her masters in language. She said that they will both be heading to Buenos Aires soon to get Spanish credit. It seems like everyone I meet has such an interesting and unique story.
Through the freezing cold windows we saw the snow covered mountains, a flowing river, and bright white snow eventually turn into green land with warm, spring like climate.
I was the first one off the bus when we arrived in Venice, stiff legged and ready to take in the sites and sounds of the city. My friends Yesse (Togo, Africa), Jerome (Belgium), one guy from Lebannon and another Arab (country unknown) and I started off toward the heart of the city, our destination being San Marco, the largest piazza in Venice that sides to the sea. In front of the train station were tables and chairs set up where artists painted brightly colored, sparkling masks on the faces of men, women, and children alike. On every corner there were mask shops and souvenir stands selling every kind of mask in every shade, magnets, snow globes, post cards, and jewelry.
The crowds were massive and the journey to San Marco was challenging with the skinny alley ways and hand rendered signs directing us all over the city. On the first bridge we crossed, over looking the canal and paddling gondalas I took a picture with the entire cast of Alice and Wonderland.
After hours of wandering around the city we finally got to the San Marco which was filled with massive crowds, caffe tables spilling out from the restuarants, people in sparkling masks flashing their cameras at the charactors dressed in insanely creative costumes, and a fountain flowing with red wine. It was absolute chaos.
At the back of the piazza was a stage set up with a huge screen displaying the people in costumes and who knows what else. The costumes ranged from aristocratic gentlemen from the days of Marie Antoinette and King George, to Mario and Luigi, to human pizza slices. Unlike Halloween, Carnivale is a holiday for people of all ages and throughout the day we saw kids dressed up along with their parents, tossing colorful confetti and spraying unsuspecting victims with silly string. Two little girls dressed as princesses waited on either side of a store entrance for their mother to exit and proceeded to toss handfuls of confetti as high as they could over her head and clothes. This is one of hundreds of scenes I saw throughout the day.
By the time we loaded the pullman to head back at 9:30pm, the sun had gone down and the lights over the stone passageways shown brighter over the constantly growing crowds of people and the night air had cooled to a chilly temperature. We had walked what seemed to be over 10 miles, breathed in the sea air, gazed into the never ending strings of store front windows, seen thousands of masks, posed for hundreds of photos with people dressed in outrageous costumes, waved goodbye to the gondala drivers in their striped shirts paddling black, shiny gondalas through the canal, and were absolutely, unbelievabley, thouroghly exhausted.
Through the freezing cold windows we saw the snow covered mountains, a flowing river, and bright white snow eventually turn into green land with warm, spring like climate.
I was the first one off the bus when we arrived in Venice, stiff legged and ready to take in the sites and sounds of the city. My friends Yesse (Togo, Africa), Jerome (Belgium), one guy from Lebannon and another Arab (country unknown) and I started off toward the heart of the city, our destination being San Marco, the largest piazza in Venice that sides to the sea. In front of the train station were tables and chairs set up where artists painted brightly colored, sparkling masks on the faces of men, women, and children alike. On every corner there were mask shops and souvenir stands selling every kind of mask in every shade, magnets, snow globes, post cards, and jewelry.
The crowds were massive and the journey to San Marco was challenging with the skinny alley ways and hand rendered signs directing us all over the city. On the first bridge we crossed, over looking the canal and paddling gondalas I took a picture with the entire cast of Alice and Wonderland.
After hours of wandering around the city we finally got to the San Marco which was filled with massive crowds, caffe tables spilling out from the restuarants, people in sparkling masks flashing their cameras at the charactors dressed in insanely creative costumes, and a fountain flowing with red wine. It was absolute chaos.
At the back of the piazza was a stage set up with a huge screen displaying the people in costumes and who knows what else. The costumes ranged from aristocratic gentlemen from the days of Marie Antoinette and King George, to Mario and Luigi, to human pizza slices. Unlike Halloween, Carnivale is a holiday for people of all ages and throughout the day we saw kids dressed up along with their parents, tossing colorful confetti and spraying unsuspecting victims with silly string. Two little girls dressed as princesses waited on either side of a store entrance for their mother to exit and proceeded to toss handfuls of confetti as high as they could over her head and clothes. This is one of hundreds of scenes I saw throughout the day.
By the time we loaded the pullman to head back at 9:30pm, the sun had gone down and the lights over the stone passageways shown brighter over the constantly growing crowds of people and the night air had cooled to a chilly temperature. We had walked what seemed to be over 10 miles, breathed in the sea air, gazed into the never ending strings of store front windows, seen thousands of masks, posed for hundreds of photos with people dressed in outrageous costumes, waved goodbye to the gondala drivers in their striped shirts paddling black, shiny gondalas through the canal, and were absolutely, unbelievabley, thouroghly exhausted.
Monday, February 28, 2011
La Presentazione di Pubblicita, il femminismo, e i cambiamenti nell'appartamento
Today I begin writing my 15 minute presentation on advertising that I will give, all in Italian, next Wednesday to a small audience of a few instructors and peers.
I was given free reign over my topic and chose advertising because-
a) I thought, hey, here is an opportunity to review old concepts ive long forgotten/replaced with irregular trapassato verb conjugations
b) I would get to show advertising clips (Helloo Old Spice "The man your man could smell like" ad!)
c) I am still looking for a summer internship. Ok this is not a reason.
...
In class this morning, my conversation teacher brought up the idea of femminism. (il femminismo in Italian. Is anyone else curious why its masculine?)
Due to the widely diverse cultures represented by our class (Helloo Libya, Israel, Uganda and Pakistan!), the conversation was pretty interesting. Mariam from Uganda talked about gender roles in Uganda. Once a man marries he is not supposed to do anything in the kitchen or the house. That is the wife's terrain and its not to be touched. His job is to work outside, not inside.
According to Mariam, the women of Uganda are generally content with this role, and it is culturally understood that by serving the man in the home, she shows him respect. She said there are also married couples where both the wife and husband work outside of the home, but the household work still falls on the woman most of the time. I don't think there is anything wrong with the traditional roles, in fact I think the idea of respect (mutual respect) in a marraige is very important. However, I am still very happy to live in the US where more contemporary couples share housework and the work that goes along with raising kids.
Lastly, one of my roomates changed apartments (apparently she minds all of the noise at night that comes from the bar below us..shocking), and the agency was able to find her a quieter place. Her room will soon be filled by another student. We wonder, what nationality will she be? Will she speak Italian? English?
We shall see, (Vediamo!)
~Kaitlyn
I was given free reign over my topic and chose advertising because-
a) I thought, hey, here is an opportunity to review old concepts ive long forgotten/replaced with irregular trapassato verb conjugations
b) I would get to show advertising clips (Helloo Old Spice "The man your man could smell like" ad!)
c) I am still looking for a summer internship. Ok this is not a reason.
...
In class this morning, my conversation teacher brought up the idea of femminism. (il femminismo in Italian. Is anyone else curious why its masculine?)
Due to the widely diverse cultures represented by our class (Helloo Libya, Israel, Uganda and Pakistan!), the conversation was pretty interesting. Mariam from Uganda talked about gender roles in Uganda. Once a man marries he is not supposed to do anything in the kitchen or the house. That is the wife's terrain and its not to be touched. His job is to work outside, not inside.
According to Mariam, the women of Uganda are generally content with this role, and it is culturally understood that by serving the man in the home, she shows him respect. She said there are also married couples where both the wife and husband work outside of the home, but the household work still falls on the woman most of the time. I don't think there is anything wrong with the traditional roles, in fact I think the idea of respect (mutual respect) in a marraige is very important. However, I am still very happy to live in the US where more contemporary couples share housework and the work that goes along with raising kids.
Lastly, one of my roomates changed apartments (apparently she minds all of the noise at night that comes from the bar below us..shocking), and the agency was able to find her a quieter place. Her room will soon be filled by another student. We wonder, what nationality will she be? Will she speak Italian? English?
We shall see, (Vediamo!)
~Kaitlyn
Sunday, February 27, 2011
"What Heaven will be like"
As I have been sick with a stomach flu the last couple of days, I have had alot of time to be on facebook, youtube, etc.
Today I listened to a podcast of an Austin Stone sermon called "What Heaven will be Like"
http://www.austinstone.org/resources/sermons/category/heaven_and_hell
Truly a beautiful, thought provoking, and inspiring sermon that focuses on many places in scripture such as Revelation 24:1-4, Luke 23:39, John 14:1, Rev 21:1-3 and Rev 19:11-16.
Thanks to a wonderful roomate, an Italian pharmacy, a couple of cab drivers, and God, I feel much better than I did on Friday and am looking forward to getting back to class tomorrow.
Coming up is my 15 min presentation (in italian) on Advertising trends in the US, as well as my trip with the student's travel agency to Venezia for the Carnivale on Saturday.
Shout outs: Thanks so much for the package and homemade granola Aunt Laura and Mom! Happy birthday to my Grandad, and thank you God for allowing modern medicine to make his hip better!
Ciao a tutti,
Kaitlyn
Today I listened to a podcast of an Austin Stone sermon called "What Heaven will be Like"
http://www.austinstone.org/resources/sermons/category/heaven_and_hell
Truly a beautiful, thought provoking, and inspiring sermon that focuses on many places in scripture such as Revelation 24:1-4, Luke 23:39, John 14:1, Rev 21:1-3 and Rev 19:11-16.
Thanks to a wonderful roomate, an Italian pharmacy, a couple of cab drivers, and God, I feel much better than I did on Friday and am looking forward to getting back to class tomorrow.
Coming up is my 15 min presentation (in italian) on Advertising trends in the US, as well as my trip with the student's travel agency to Venezia for the Carnivale on Saturday.
Shout outs: Thanks so much for the package and homemade granola Aunt Laura and Mom! Happy birthday to my Grandad, and thank you God for allowing modern medicine to make his hip better!
Ciao a tutti,
Kaitlyn
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