concerning beauty

I enjoyed my remaining days in Milan very much, and I found my visit
to be very interesting in one particularly interesting way. Gabriella
adores Milan, and I think with more time and familiarity I would, too.
But Marco, Francesco, and some of their friends didn't seem to have
quite such a high opinion. Marco, for example, emphasized the city's
aesthetic inferiority to Rome, Venice, or Florence. Withholding
nothing from Rome or Venice (I haven't been to Florence), I still
think Milan is an incredibly beautiful city. The Duomo di Milano, in
particular, easily ranks with the Cathedral of San Lorenzo in Genoa as
one of my favorite cathedrals in Italy--it's so extravagant that it
flirts with tackiness, passes completely beyond absurdity, and comes
full circle to achieve a stunning beauty. I've never been to Paris,
but the hundreds of statues, figures, and gargoyles decorating the
Duomo di Milano brought to mind my idea of Notre Dame (based as it is
on the Disney adaptation of The Hunchback of Notre Dame... have I ever
written something so disgustingly American on this blog before? That
said, it's one of absolute favorite Disney movies, so I mean no
disservice in its evocation! I'll have to go to confession and
repent--next time I'm at the Duomo di Milano, of course!).

But even Marco declared the Stazione Centrale in Milan the most
beautiful train station in Italy, and I have to agree. My word of
advice to visitors arriving in or leaving Milan by train: even if you
take the metro connection into or out of the station, take five
minutes to leave the station gaze up at it. And then, as you're
looking, realize that Mussolini had it built, and you'll have an
entirely new perspective on its beauty. In Marco's roughly translated
words, "Stazione Centrale is one of the only good things Mussolini
ever did."

Anyhow, while I clearly appreciate aesthetics, beauty alone is not
enough to enchant me. And what better way is there to segue (did you
know the English word segue comes from the Italian verb "seguire,"
which means "to follow"? "Segue" would mean "it follows") into my trip
to Venice?

I'm currently staying with a former professor, Cinzia, and her
family, outside of Venice (more to come on that in my next post). We
went to visit Venice yesterday, just for the day, and Cinzia showed me
some quieter, less touristy neighborhoods that we didn't have time to
see last year. In the morning, before the tourists come in, Venice is
less crowded. It really is a beautiful city, architecturally and
aesthetically. But unfortunately, that's not all it is. Venice is a
fucking zoo. Excuse the profanity, parents, if you're reading this,
but there's really no polite way to describe the throngs of tourists,
in groups of 20 or 30, following guides speaking into microphones in
Japanese, German, French, English; the men selling fake handbags, fake
sunglasses, and junk toys in blankets on the streets and bridges,
ready to snatch the blanket and their merchandise up at the first
sight of cops; the total chaos and confusion in the Piazza San Marco,
where I doubt you could find an actual Venetian if your life depended
on it, excepting those who are giving tours, and even most of the tour
guides are not, in fact, Venetian; and speaking of things that are not
Venetian, the ornate souvenir masks in every shop in the city that
don't actually resemble the tamer, classical Venetian masks in the
slightest. I could go on, but I won't. I know, I know, I'm a tourist,
too. But the least I can do is never, EVER again make the mistake of
being a tourist in Venice.

In sum: Milan, 1; Venice, 0-for-2.

Milan

If you haven't already read as much on Facebook, Twitter, or via personal text message, I love Milan. I'm so glad I came here this year. If only I'd known what I've been missing!

My hosts are great. Marco, the friend of Gabriella's daughters, is studying for exams, but he's been so helpful and hospitable. He speaks English, but not to me, because he knows I want to improve my Italian. His patience seems infinite. His brother, Francesco, took me out for a few beers at Milanese hot spots last night, and I met a few of his friends. He's trying to improve his English, although it's already quite good, so we've exchanged a lot of vocab and expressions. I taught him "jackass," but I forget the Italian equivalent. And their parents are awesome. Il signor Penza made a fantastic dinner last night--first a pasta with gamberetti (shrimp), vongole (clams), and cozze (mussels), then mozzarella di bufala (buffalo mozzarella) with tomatoes and basil. And he and la signora Penza talked a lot. She insisted on doing my laundry. And again, they seem to have infinite patience.

I walked around Milan for hours yesterday. I got a free map at tourist information, I looked around some bookstores, I got an incredible gelato with actual pieces of mango and coconut in it, and an old Italian man stopped me and asked me if I were Milanese. Magari. No, but I'd like to be. I ordered a marocchino (literally: little Moroccan), which is a drink with espresso, steamed milk, and powdered chocolate, at a bar called Princi that Gabriella recommended me. I explored a neighborhood called la Brera which was very charming, and I gazed at the gargoyles on the Duomo. I read a bit of Catch 22 in the piazza, because sometimes I really just need some English. And later Francesco took me to le colonne (the columns) of San Lorenzo and Corso Como, where the bar we went to was playing "Papa Don't Preach."

Today I explored some new areas. I successfully navigated the metro, which always makes me feel good. I bought the July/August issue of the Italian L'Uomo Vogue (Men's Vogue) because Beyonce is on the cover and I figure I can read a magazine on a train to practice some Italian more easily than buying a book. And I bought a camera. It was more expensive than I would have liked, but I wasn't happy not being able to take good pictures of some stuff. Anyone can Google the Duomo di Milan, but as strange as it may sound, I love taking pictures of interesting billboards, signs, cafes... Tomorrow I have to revisit a lot of places now that I can take some nice pictures.

Tonight I went to a barbecue with Marco and about a dozen of his friends. They were all very nice. I had trouble understanding them at times (12 Milanesi shouting at each other after a few glasses of wine? Please.) But after MY few glasses of wine, I felt more comfortable and think I spoke a lot better. Or maybe not. Who knows. But then they all got crazy and sprayed each other with the hose and threw buckets of water and, once, a glass of wine that I had the misfortune to be partially in the way of. But, all things considered, it was fun. Only in Italy.

Now I'm going to bed. Tomorrow is my last full day in Milan, and I want to wake up a bit earlier and get to the city. And then Thursday it's onwards, to Venezia. I feel like I'm living a crazy life right now.
Sent on the Sprint® Now Network from my BlackBerry®

Cinque Terre Word Vomit

i wrote this in my notebook all day Sunday... Free flowing though. Not usually my style, but I liked it for this post. My trip to Cinque Terre was rushed, and therefore so were my trains of thought. Here we go.

I'm in Vernazza. Last night I slept on a rocky beach in Riomaggiore. I dove into the Mediterranean at 7 AM. The Cinque Terre are BEAUTIFUL. I lost my sunglasses; I'll be surprised if any of my shit makes it home, EVER. I'm so sweaty I actually feel GUILTY for how gross I'll be when I meet my host in Milan tonight. I don't know if he speaks English... Probably he does... Working out must begin anew when I return home. Talking to people here is weird because noone knows where anyone is from, so I get Italian greetings from Chinese, Italian from British, I give English to Germans, I give Italian to Chinese and Italians. This morning I said ciao to a guy and girl because I wasn't sure if they were American, British, or German, and he started asking me questions a few minutes later in Spanish. My responses sucked. I still don't know if he was Spanish. Didn't look it. I rigged up my pack to hang my towel and bathing suit to dry while I'm hiking. I cut the shit out of my feet swimming in rocky coves, so my socks are bloody. The noon church bells in Vernazza are going CRAZY, but Vernazza is tacky, so I'm heading to Monterosso to relax on the beach all afternoon. A waitress at a bar last night taught me the etiquette for caffe' corretto--espresso with liquor. Sometimes they use grappa, an Italian liquor, but she recommended sambuca, and it was good. It's socially acceptable to order after lunch or after dinner. I changed clothes many times under my towel today, including once in a train station. Italian public bathrooms suck. I should start carrying t.p., but I hate my bag already. I hated Monterosso. I walked around in nothing but a speedo and my backpack. How European am I? Loved Riomaggiore, Manarola, and Corniglia. See Vernazza and Monterosso only for the hikes. Now leaving the Cinque Terre.

Saturday

I'm typing this on my Blackberry right now, but I wrote it Saturday. Enjoy!

10:05
I'm writing this blog on the train. I left Perugia at 10:01. I will arrive at Riomaggiore, the first town of the Cinque Terre, at 3:30. I have to change trains twice, but my ticket cost much less than I expected!

I didn't sleep enough last night. Umbria Jazz Festival started, so I listened to live music and drank wine in the piazza until around two AM, and I woke up very early to pack up my stuff. I'm going to miss the students in Perugia a lot. For a week, they were my friends, who I saw and hung out with every day, and even if it was only a week, they were closer geographically than anyone else! But now I'm leaving with more great memories of Perugia.

In the spirit of Umbria Jazz, I'm listening to Aretha Franklin. I'm almost done with Love in the Time of Cholera. And I used the Italian post office this morning!

2:45

Looking at the departure schedule in Florence, my first exchange, I discovered that I had about 2 minutes to get to the next train passing Sarzana, my second exchange. I panicked, rushed to the train, and got on, belatedly wondering why this train was scheduled to arrive in Sarzana sooner than I had expected. Even though I knew I wqould make it to Sarzana, I spent about an hour praying that I got to Sarzana before the conductor checked my ticket and fined the crap out of me for some foreign ignorance. But my first instinct was fine, my ticket was valid, and I got to Sarzana an hour early. I now have to wait an hour and six minutes in Sarzana, which, from what I can tell, is a pit. I have to pee, and the bathrooms are closed for work. I suspect this issue is not receiving prompt attention. And everything in sight is closed. As Barrett learned to say last night, "fanculo la pausa."

Next Steps

Tomorrow morning I depart Perugia. I love this city; it feels like a second home in so many ways, but now, finally, I'm going to be exploring new lands. Five lands, to be exact, because tomorrow I'm going to le Cinque Terre, which literally translates to "the Five Lands." The Cinque Terre are five villages set on a cliffside overlooking the Mediterranean. I'm very excited. The Cinque Terre are inaccessible by car, which means they have a reputation of peace and tranquility, despite their growing popularity with German and American tourists. Hiking trails connect all five. Some are as close as 15 or 20 minute walks, while others are more like 90 minute trails. Four of them, if I remember correctly, have beaches. Basically, to someone with a little outdoorsiness and adventurousness, they're a paradise.

However, they're a good ways from Perugia, so my train trip is likely to take 5 or 6 hours. I don't know what my internet situation will be there, so I may not be able to blog about them until I make it to Milan, my next destination. But I'll be in Milan by Monday or Tuesday, and I already have a few connections with locals. I'm staying with a friend of Gabriella Valsecchi's daughters. Gabriella is an Italian teacher at VCU, who is just the sweetest and most helpful woman in the entire world. Both my host, Marco, and another friend, Jessica, have offered to show me around the city. I kind of feel like I have Italian friends, even if they are friends-of-friends. And after Milan, I'm going to Venice, where I'm staying with a former teacher, Cinzia, and her family. I called yesterday to confirm. The call was kind of nerve-wracking, because I only had her home phone number, and I was afraid I would sound stupid if her parents answered, but she answered and I sounded kind of stupid anyway with my stunted Italian before she said "this is Cinzia, who is this?" But Cinzia is incredible and said just call her when I'm leaving Milan and she'll pick me up at the train station in Venice, it doesn't matter what day. She didn't even ask how long I was staying (3 or 4 nights, which we discussed a few months ago). Italians are the best. So hospitable.

The above comment about my stunted Italian notwithstanding, I feel very confident in my language abilities on this trip. I do NOT understand everyone around me--far from it--but I haven't had any issues so far understanding people who actually talk to me. Ordering coffee and food, paying for things, and even a few more random conversations have given me a lot of faith that I will not die here. The one time when I actually thought it would just be a better idea to use English (to buy my phone), that didn't end up being an option, so I scraped by in Italian and my phone works just fine!

By the way, I suppose all of you readers will have different phone plans there at home, so feel free to contact me at my Italian phone number (which I have proudly memorized) but don't blame me for costs incurred! Look up how your phone works with international calls or texts before you use the following number!

Il mio cellulare (my cell): 0039 331 391 7018. I don't remember how to dial out from the US. You may have to dial an additional prefix before the country code (0039). I don't really expect anyone to use this, so if you take the initiative, you can look up more info. I'm not spending my internet time on it.

And for those who don't already have this number but want to contact me via text, you can use my Google Voice number: (540) 315-4360. It works just like a regular US number, but don't expect instantaneous responses. I can only access my messages when I have internet. Have patience.

I think that's all I want to say for now. People don't want to read long posts about nothing. But until I can blog again, wish me buona fortuna (good luck)!

Perugia

I'm on Evan's iPod and don't feel like typing a lot, so I'll keep this short.

I'm in Perugia, and I got my luggage today, so I'm finally clean-shaven and in a new outfit. Perugia has been fun, but I lost my camera and I'm pretty upset. The luggage situation was not my fault, but this is, and it is awful. I think I left it at a bar two nights ago. I've looked for it and asked around, but no luck so far. So I've lost the pictures I took in Siena, in Perugia, and in transit, I lost my brand new memory card, I can't afford a new camera, which I don't trust myself with anyway, and I wont have any pictures for the rest of the trip. So I wastoo bummed out and I just sat in the piazza and read for the 4th of July.

Sorry I dont have a happier post. Maybe later.

Ciao ciao.

Jinx

So immediately after posting about how painless my travel was, everything that could possibly go wrong did.

My flight from JFK to Madrid was delayed 3 times, for a total of about 3 hours and 45 minutes. I therefore missed my connection in Madrid, because my layover was only 2 hours, and the airline rebooked me. That flight was ok, until I actually got off of the plane. They lost my baggage. I am traveling with the clothes I've been wearing since Edinburg, my documents, one book, my Blackberry (utterly useless here), Evan's iPod (pretty useless, due to some law that says there's no such thing as free public wi-fi--what the hell?), my camera, and the BAREST bathroom essentials: glasses, contacts in their case but with no extra solution, a toothbrush and mini-toothpaste, and deodorant. And a mini-pillow I took from my airplane. Screw them.

Getting my stuff is going to be difficult, as I have no permanent address here. I headed to Siena despite ALL the complications, stumbled across Carrie after about an hour of walking in circles around the Piazza hopelessly, and I'm going to have to call the airline in just a bit, after I find out Kathleen's address, and then hopefully I can alter my itinerary to be in Perugia for the next few days instead of Florence. Oh weeeeell. And this is all assuming they've located my bag. But I'm choosing to believe that's probable, because there were 7 or 8 of us with lost luggage on the same flight. I'm guessing a cart got overlooked or misdirected, not that my bag is individually lost. But again... I have NOTHING here. And I smell.

I napped a bit on planes and trains, but my sense of time is completely screwed up, and I have NO idea how long my transit experience was (did I mention my train to Siena from Rome was delayed inexplicably for 2 and a half hours?). I arrived in Siena around 11, walked like 30 minutes and found the Piazza del Campo, found Carrie around midnight, roughly, and walked, talked, sat, had two beers and a gelato, and haven't yet slept. The local time is 11:30 AM, but I feel ok. I had a nice breakfast--a peach, an undefined pastry (I never know their names, so I always just order the favorite of whatever barista is serving me), and a cappuccino, which was glorious. I'm hoping to meet up with Kathleen today, but I don't have her number. I bought an Italian phone this morning, so I'm no longer COMPLETELY unreachable, but it's pre-paid, so I intend to use it conservatively.

I'm on paid internet, so I can't post any pictures yet, but I have a few nice ones. The Palio is this afternoon, (a horserace, it's amazing), and so I'm going to explore the city a bit until then, and I'll probably make it back online sometime after I arrive in Perugia. Wish me luck, if anyone is actually reading this!

Ciao ciao.