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.
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