I just passed an absolutely terrifying moment in which I thought I’d misplaced this very little black book. I cannot explain the terror that inevitably seizes me if ever I think that something terrible has befallen my work. Other artists must know what I mean. I watched Love Actually yesterday. There is a scene in which Colin Firth is a writer typing away outside on an old-fashioned typewriter when a gust of wind comes up and blows half his novel into the pond. My knuckles were white from squeezing the blankets in fear. It was horrible!
Well anyway, here I am and I have my little black book. I’m sitting on a plane that has picked orange and green for its color scheme, at least for all those items that are not the trademark scarlet of Austrian Airlines. I quite like it. I think it’s one of the more attractive planes I’ve been on. I find this amusing because the last time I was on a plane I was inspired to write a little paragraph to be inserted into something somewhere, a paragraph basically poking fun at the complete unavoidable horribleness of virtually all plane upholstery and décor. So now I go and board an aesthetically pleasing plane. It’s hilarious, I love it. Well ok, it’s not THAT aesthetically pleasing….
I’ve spent that last week in Graz, which has been nice and relaxing. I’ve been able to finally sit down and get some writing done (yay laptops!), stop carrying my camera with me every second, watch some movies (the Departed!), and generally chill out, etc. Unfortunately after two relatively mild weeks I was overdue for a disaster (if you remember my journey’s start you should know what I mean), and find me it did.
To fly from Vienna to Delhi I unexpectedly revisited the 80s and had a prepaid ticket instead of an electronic one like every normal passenger in the world. This meant I had to physically pick up my ticket from the Air India office in Vienna. As I have mentioned, I was not actually in Vienna, but in Graz. Now, as I’m sure you can deduce on your own, Air India is an airline. Would it not seem fairly natural to have an office at the airport? No, of course not. It is infinitely more logical to locate the office across from the Vienna State Opera. What this means is that in order to compensate for the extra trip, I would have to go to Vienna a day early and pick up my ticket on Saturday afternoon to be prepared for my flight out on Sunday morning.
Friday evening rolls around, we’re chillin’ in Graz, going out for coffee, watching movies, and I think to myself hey, it would be good to know what time the Air India office closes tomorrow, seeing as they probably close a little earlier on Saturdays. I call up my father since I remembered him telling me that he’d get the hours and the address from the office when he booked my ticket. Apparently he remembers me telling him that I would call the office and find out the hours and the address. Half an hour later I get a call back from him. They’re not open on Saturday.
My brain: Uhhhh….
You can’t get on the plane without that physical ticket in your hand.
My brain: Uhhhh….
The office is closed.
My brain: Uhhhh….
There’s no way to get the ticket except from the office.
My brain: Uhhhh….
Basically I just lost my ticket.
My brain: Well shit.
Several hours and many gray hairs (well, no) later I had a completely different flight reserved on Austrian Airlines, not for Sunday, but for Monday now. I was supposed to go to the airport and argue with them over youth rates and such things and try to plead with them to let me fly on Sunday. Well anyway. What it came down to was making the commute to the Vienna airport, engaging in a fruitless bilingual, semi-comprehensible argument with the Austrian Air representative, and ultimately submitting to the fact that I would not be flying until Monday and thus would lose my shopping day in Delhi (*sniff*).
From there we bought some over-priced bare necessities like bread, milk, and cheese. (Well Lisi did while I fended off German-speaking beggars and tried to look inconspicuous. I should add that trying to look inconspicuous while wearing a turban in Europe is basically equivalent to trying to place an elephant in your grandmother’s china vase. It’s just not going to happen.) And we finally arrived at Lisi’s flat, Venetian mask still intact.
We were surprised to find company awaiting us and company was surprised to find us joining him, but nevertheless we enjoyed a good evening of feasting on garlic butter pasta and wondering why Lisi’s TV made Hugh Grant’s head squished and his voice sound like Darth Vader. The Darth Vader thing we just couldn’t deal with so we switched to a silent movie which was very convenient because good ol’ Buster Keaton’s voice could have been as Darth Vadery as anything and we’d never know.
The next morning we slept in. WAY in. Well ok. The next afternoon we slept in. And spent the day watching the world skiing championships which the Austrians won yet again (shocker). We followed that up with Love Actually (Hugh was better today, he’s just touchy about which screen you put him on) and YouTube (just a bit). Having then watched a little bit of every screen in the apartment, Lisi went out with a friend and I worked on my blog forever until I suddenly realized forever had passed and time to panic had arrived. So I panicked, and once I was done with that I actually stuffed my things into my suitcase and got ready for bed, at which point I proceeded to sleep.
Very early start in the morning. Flat to subway, subway to bus, bus to airport, airport to plane. I was seated by a mother with a very young daughter. The walking but no talking age (coherent talking, that is). The arrival was fine and welcome, and when I got to Soorya’s house my Venetian mask was still intact. This was somewhat miraculous because the little girl was quite a jumper, climber, and shoe thrower. To make a long story short (well really to keep a short story short) it was a harrowing flight.
At the baggage claim there was a moment (more like several minutes) of dread as I thought that my luggage had been lost yet again, a prospect which was infinitely worse to think about when on the Indian subcontinent. I soon realized that it was actually the entire plane whose luggage was taking forever (I had confused my flight with the flight before mine) but I still wouldn’t let myself breathe fully until I held the scuffed green handle in my hand and my eyes were comfortingly blinded by a hot pink luggage tag.
*An afterthought: I have no idea what magically happened in the middle of this entry. In the beginning I’m sitting on a plane, then I tell the story of how I got there, and suddenly I’m already in a house in Delhi. Your guess is as good as mine.
Monday, April 30, 2007
Chapter 31: Friendly Dark
This house is one of the very few in which I actually enjoy walking around in the dark after the rest of the house has gone to sleep. I think humanity has a sort of innate fear of the dark, and whether or not they admit it, most people can probably relate to the apprehension of a dark house alone, the tense expectation of a sudden face at the window. Anyone with a modicum of imagination can think of something while alone in a dark house that will make them want to step up the pace if not actually run back to the safety of their own warm and illuminated room, making sure to close the door very firmly behind. This house is just cozily darkened, like a friend, leaving you peacefully in the company of yourself and the shadows. It’s nice.
Chapter 30: MASKS!!!
Our morning yesterday started with epic window leanings to obtain canal views and photographs of said canal views. That is a horrible sentence to try and comprehend. I apologize. Oh yeah, and of course me smacking my head straight into a window whose existence I was unaware of until facial contact was made. That was genius. And, sadly, rather typical.
We then had the best free breakfast any hotel has ever bothered to provide, made doubly awesome by the fact that it was, well, free. And then we were back in Venice. We briefly considered actually tracking down some specific sights but got about as far as pulling out our map before saying nah, screw it. We were having so much fun just standing on the street that why on earth would we want to go search out some stuffy crumbling building that was going to burden us with things like history and culture? No thanks.
So then I finally bought myself a mask after scoping them out for centuries—a nice green and gold one with a spray of green feathers bursting off the top. Oh my god, Venice during Carnivale is SO MUCH FUN. Just absolutely fantastic, fun, outrageous, mysterious, without feeling fake, cheap, or forced, like every single other carnival or fair I’ve ever been to. I mean Venice IS carnival. Everything else is just an imitation of this one. And trust me, this is where it’s at. There was a troupe of medieval musicians playing old wooden oboes and bagpipes and recorders and things with other medieval folk dancing around (I knew the tune, which made me feel cool, hehe), there was one of them “I’m painted like a statue” guys as Elvis who was pretty funny, there was a juggler, there was some strange comedian, a thousand fabulous costumes…. I mean I don’t know why I’m trying to list any of this, it really doesn’t work.
And there were SO MANY PEOPLE! Lisi and I took turns going into the main basilica (no backpacks allowed, thus the turn-taking) and checking out the view from the top. You could see over the whole square, all the tiny little people running around. It was awesome. Later we got some pizza and sat in a square (with a church and a well) where we listened amusedly to the violinist from… well I have no idea but Lisi recognized him. He had the best laugh ever, enough to keep us laughing through two pizzas each.
In the evening we went back to the Piazza San Marco where we managed to catch the finale to the day’s staged events. It was huge masquerade of all the lords and ladies and jesters and maidens and soldiers and dancers and other things like that who’s titles I can’t keep straight, all parading about in the most fantastic costumes you’ve ever seen, waltzing, performing, you name it. Then suddenly there was a massive explosion and thousands of little paper strips burst into the sky, so many of them fluttering around that for a moment you couldn’t even see the square. It was so much fun.
Unfortunately the rest of the night sort of degenerated from there. There was some weird modern dance performance on the side of the clock tower which kind of just looked like some people dressed in black waving pillows around halfway down a brick wall. For the heck of it we took a taxi ride to Lido and back (gotta love misty night-time water), and when we got back everything was DEAD. It was actually pretty eerie how quickly everything died down. Just a little while ago we had been among thousands of screaming people as the paper rained down on us and now a mere forty-five minutes later there was not a soul to be seen. We wandered forever, trying to find the Rialto bridge, getting lost, and hoping to find a café, a hope which was fading fast into the ominous abyss of the night. Then suddenly we turned a corner and found ourselves smack in the middle of a young crowd gathered a piazza watching a live band who’s guitarist was dressed as a cow. No, a bear, sorry. Cow, bear, whatever. Anyhow it was such a relief after having been stuck endlessly in the creepy grip of the abandoned misty streets—normal people, loud music, and two open bars just waiting to serve me a nice, strong macchiato.
Soon enough we decided it would be best to head back to the hotel and give ourselves enough time to get lost. We retrieved our luggage, made it smoothly to the train station, and then set ourselves to the gnarly task of simultaneously waiting for our midnight thirty train and staying awake. We did this mostly by having me lose at cards a lot.
Finally after nine hours, four trains, a few candy bars, and not very much sleep (all with a feathered Venetian mask that I was desperately trying to keep intact) we walked up the freezing hill to Lisi’s family’s pink house and collapsed into sleep immediately. It’s cool to be back here (Graz, Austria for those who are unable to keep up with my severe lack of explanation), to see her family again and to try and remember German words like kuchen. Sigh, Italian is SO much easier, but we’ll see how I do. (Another omnipotent interjection from the distant future: not well).
We then had the best free breakfast any hotel has ever bothered to provide, made doubly awesome by the fact that it was, well, free. And then we were back in Venice. We briefly considered actually tracking down some specific sights but got about as far as pulling out our map before saying nah, screw it. We were having so much fun just standing on the street that why on earth would we want to go search out some stuffy crumbling building that was going to burden us with things like history and culture? No thanks.
So then I finally bought myself a mask after scoping them out for centuries—a nice green and gold one with a spray of green feathers bursting off the top. Oh my god, Venice during Carnivale is SO MUCH FUN. Just absolutely fantastic, fun, outrageous, mysterious, without feeling fake, cheap, or forced, like every single other carnival or fair I’ve ever been to. I mean Venice IS carnival. Everything else is just an imitation of this one. And trust me, this is where it’s at. There was a troupe of medieval musicians playing old wooden oboes and bagpipes and recorders and things with other medieval folk dancing around (I knew the tune, which made me feel cool, hehe), there was one of them “I’m painted like a statue” guys as Elvis who was pretty funny, there was a juggler, there was some strange comedian, a thousand fabulous costumes…. I mean I don’t know why I’m trying to list any of this, it really doesn’t work.
And there were SO MANY PEOPLE! Lisi and I took turns going into the main basilica (no backpacks allowed, thus the turn-taking) and checking out the view from the top. You could see over the whole square, all the tiny little people running around. It was awesome. Later we got some pizza and sat in a square (with a church and a well) where we listened amusedly to the violinist from… well I have no idea but Lisi recognized him. He had the best laugh ever, enough to keep us laughing through two pizzas each.
In the evening we went back to the Piazza San Marco where we managed to catch the finale to the day’s staged events. It was huge masquerade of all the lords and ladies and jesters and maidens and soldiers and dancers and other things like that who’s titles I can’t keep straight, all parading about in the most fantastic costumes you’ve ever seen, waltzing, performing, you name it. Then suddenly there was a massive explosion and thousands of little paper strips burst into the sky, so many of them fluttering around that for a moment you couldn’t even see the square. It was so much fun.
Unfortunately the rest of the night sort of degenerated from there. There was some weird modern dance performance on the side of the clock tower which kind of just looked like some people dressed in black waving pillows around halfway down a brick wall. For the heck of it we took a taxi ride to Lido and back (gotta love misty night-time water), and when we got back everything was DEAD. It was actually pretty eerie how quickly everything died down. Just a little while ago we had been among thousands of screaming people as the paper rained down on us and now a mere forty-five minutes later there was not a soul to be seen. We wandered forever, trying to find the Rialto bridge, getting lost, and hoping to find a café, a hope which was fading fast into the ominous abyss of the night. Then suddenly we turned a corner and found ourselves smack in the middle of a young crowd gathered a piazza watching a live band who’s guitarist was dressed as a cow. No, a bear, sorry. Cow, bear, whatever. Anyhow it was such a relief after having been stuck endlessly in the creepy grip of the abandoned misty streets—normal people, loud music, and two open bars just waiting to serve me a nice, strong macchiato.
Soon enough we decided it would be best to head back to the hotel and give ourselves enough time to get lost. We retrieved our luggage, made it smoothly to the train station, and then set ourselves to the gnarly task of simultaneously waiting for our midnight thirty train and staying awake. We did this mostly by having me lose at cards a lot.
Finally after nine hours, four trains, a few candy bars, and not very much sleep (all with a feathered Venetian mask that I was desperately trying to keep intact) we walked up the freezing hill to Lisi’s family’s pink house and collapsed into sleep immediately. It’s cool to be back here (Graz, Austria for those who are unable to keep up with my severe lack of explanation), to see her family again and to try and remember German words like kuchen. Sigh, Italian is SO much easier, but we’ll see how I do. (Another omnipotent interjection from the distant future: not well).
Chapter 29: Farewell, Hello, OH MY GOD HI!!
Today we woke up early for our last morning in Passano. It was actually a gorgeous morning outside as we watched it lighten, the sun quickly chasing the mist up to the stratosphere, leaving the whole valley glowing in the moistened aftermath. Should I say… afterbath? Ahahahaha! Ok, that was the WORST pun I have EVER heard, much less created. Aha… aha… ha… sorry. Let’s move on, shall we?
The morning went smoothly and nicely (a short message from the Redundancy Department of Redundancy) aside from my battle with my suitcase (see above). This was no ordinary suitcase battle. It lasted about twenty minutes and left me completely out of breath, perspirating and burning from the exercise, with a red sore spot along my finger from hauling on the zipper that is still smarting now as I’m writing this eighteen hours later. Basically, that was one tough suitcase, but I showed it who’s boss. Maple syrup will never prevail over me! Enough said.
And then we went to Arezzo and caught a train to Venice la dee da dee da. Nice train ride. I liked the mist. Our arrival in Venice was quite an adventure. We had to go to three windows to figure out our ticket to Graz the following night, two windows to get a map of Venice and directions to a camera shop, then over one of those crazy Venetian bridges to get a new memory card, then back to where Lisi was waiting with the luggage, then through a line to buy a 36 hour travel pass, then to the right water taxi station which we thought was the wrong one, then to the wrong water taxi station which we thought was the right one, then to the bus station which goes back to the mainland, then quickly away from the bus station which goes back to the mainland, then significantly farther down the canal and over significantly more bridges than necessary, and then finally onto the correct boat where we lay panting with exhaustion while it ferried us right back to the station where we had started it all in the first place. We then struggled our way to the hotel following directions we were reading from a series of text messages from my dad:
papa/: Hotel is Ca’ Angeli, Calle del Tragheto della Madoneta, 1434
Well that was simple enough.
papa/: Take the boat #1 (a water bus) in the direction of San Marco. Ask at the information point actv. Get off at San Silvestro boat stop.
Not quite so simple.
papa/: From the boat stop you need to
papa/: walk 10 min to the hotel. Walk straight from boat stop to a square with a church and a well in center called Campo San Aponal. Turn left
This boat stop has only one way off of it: straight. If you take straight, it does not bring you to a square with a church and a well. It brings you to an underground tunnel where you can go right or left. We picked right. We came into a square with a church and a well. A little ways down the road we could see a square with a church and a well. Turning in the other direction we could see down another street to a square with a church and a well. Every single square in all of Venice is equipped with a church and a well. You see where I’m going with this?
papa/: turn left onto Calle de mezzo. Go to end. Another little square called Campiello Meloni. Take street to left of pastry shop “Rizzardi”.
As if there is a single street sign anywhere in all of Italy.
papa/: Turn right, then left. After 10 meters you will be at Ca Angeli. Those are some crazy directions! Have fun.
Yes, but it turns out that Ca’ Angeli shares the street with a hotel called Casa di Angeli, or something like that. Sheesh the whole thing was as confusing as an abstract mathematics class. Luckily, we win at abstract mathematics, and we won at finding the hotel. Eventually.
So there we were standing outside, trying to figure out how to get in when suddenly there was a loud buzzing noise and the gate opened itself. Intrigued, we wheeled ourselves up to the door and were about to give it a nudge when it mysteriously opened of its own accord. We crossed the threshold to find no one inside. A small sign pointed to the lift—the old fashioned kind with two doors. Another sign prompted us to the third floor where once again the door was magically opened for us. This time there was finally a face to greet us when we stepped through. It was all rather like one of those movies that takes place in a haunted house where all the doors keep opening themselves and the staircases walk around and there is never anyone there. You know? You know.
So we settled in a bit in our very cute absolutely perfect little room, and then decided to hit the town. Oh, did I mention it’s Carnivale? That’s right. Carnivale in Venice. Boo yeah.
We took the Actv (no idea what that stands for but it translates into “how you get from here to there”) to what looked like a popular stop and just started walking around, heading in the general direction of the famed Piazza di San Marco.
It was absolutely so much fun I have no idea what to actually write. When we finally did get to San Marco it was just so fun I couldn’t even contain myself. I was just walking around with this ridiculous smile plastered on my face, unable to do anything about it, and then I’d frequently burst out laughing because it was all just so cool. The city, the buildings, the lights, the canals, the multinational tourists, the crowds, the people, the costumes, the Carnivale, everything! Venice! Ahhh! It’s just so fantastic I can’t write it down! WOOOOO!!!
The morning went smoothly and nicely (a short message from the Redundancy Department of Redundancy) aside from my battle with my suitcase (see above). This was no ordinary suitcase battle. It lasted about twenty minutes and left me completely out of breath, perspirating and burning from the exercise, with a red sore spot along my finger from hauling on the zipper that is still smarting now as I’m writing this eighteen hours later. Basically, that was one tough suitcase, but I showed it who’s boss. Maple syrup will never prevail over me! Enough said.
And then we went to Arezzo and caught a train to Venice la dee da dee da. Nice train ride. I liked the mist. Our arrival in Venice was quite an adventure. We had to go to three windows to figure out our ticket to Graz the following night, two windows to get a map of Venice and directions to a camera shop, then over one of those crazy Venetian bridges to get a new memory card, then back to where Lisi was waiting with the luggage, then through a line to buy a 36 hour travel pass, then to the right water taxi station which we thought was the wrong one, then to the wrong water taxi station which we thought was the right one, then to the bus station which goes back to the mainland, then quickly away from the bus station which goes back to the mainland, then significantly farther down the canal and over significantly more bridges than necessary, and then finally onto the correct boat where we lay panting with exhaustion while it ferried us right back to the station where we had started it all in the first place. We then struggled our way to the hotel following directions we were reading from a series of text messages from my dad:
papa/: Hotel is Ca’ Angeli, Calle del Tragheto della Madoneta, 1434
Well that was simple enough.
papa/: Take the boat #1 (a water bus) in the direction of San Marco. Ask at the information point actv. Get off at San Silvestro boat stop.
Not quite so simple.
papa/: From the boat stop you need to
papa/: walk 10 min to the hotel. Walk straight from boat stop to a square with a church and a well in center called Campo San Aponal. Turn left
This boat stop has only one way off of it: straight. If you take straight, it does not bring you to a square with a church and a well. It brings you to an underground tunnel where you can go right or left. We picked right. We came into a square with a church and a well. A little ways down the road we could see a square with a church and a well. Turning in the other direction we could see down another street to a square with a church and a well. Every single square in all of Venice is equipped with a church and a well. You see where I’m going with this?
papa/: turn left onto Calle de mezzo. Go to end. Another little square called Campiello Meloni. Take street to left of pastry shop “Rizzardi”.
As if there is a single street sign anywhere in all of Italy.
papa/: Turn right, then left. After 10 meters you will be at Ca Angeli. Those are some crazy directions! Have fun.
Yes, but it turns out that Ca’ Angeli shares the street with a hotel called Casa di Angeli, or something like that. Sheesh the whole thing was as confusing as an abstract mathematics class. Luckily, we win at abstract mathematics, and we won at finding the hotel. Eventually.
So there we were standing outside, trying to figure out how to get in when suddenly there was a loud buzzing noise and the gate opened itself. Intrigued, we wheeled ourselves up to the door and were about to give it a nudge when it mysteriously opened of its own accord. We crossed the threshold to find no one inside. A small sign pointed to the lift—the old fashioned kind with two doors. Another sign prompted us to the third floor where once again the door was magically opened for us. This time there was finally a face to greet us when we stepped through. It was all rather like one of those movies that takes place in a haunted house where all the doors keep opening themselves and the staircases walk around and there is never anyone there. You know? You know.
So we settled in a bit in our very cute absolutely perfect little room, and then decided to hit the town. Oh, did I mention it’s Carnivale? That’s right. Carnivale in Venice. Boo yeah.
We took the Actv (no idea what that stands for but it translates into “how you get from here to there”) to what looked like a popular stop and just started walking around, heading in the general direction of the famed Piazza di San Marco.
It was absolutely so much fun I have no idea what to actually write. When we finally did get to San Marco it was just so fun I couldn’t even contain myself. I was just walking around with this ridiculous smile plastered on my face, unable to do anything about it, and then I’d frequently burst out laughing because it was all just so cool. The city, the buildings, the lights, the canals, the multinational tourists, the crowds, the people, the costumes, the Carnivale, everything! Venice! Ahhh! It’s just so fantastic I can’t write it down! WOOOOO!!!
Chapter 28: Wait, No, Nevermind.
I totally lied about the working zippers thing. Turns out my suitcase only functions when wet. Yes, my bag has transformed into a whale. For crying out loud.
Chapter 27: The Moment of Truth
Well today I finally got down on my knees and set myself to the task of soaking the maple syrup out of my suitcase. It turned out to be not so bad, and the zippers are working again even if they are a bit sticky in a couple spots. However, I also found another thing to add to my list of totally crushed. My neon pink luggage tag. That’s right. Smashed, scuffed, and broken. Sigh. Don’t know how I missed it the first time.
Chapter 26: Oh. Wait.
I just realized I never wrote about my first time in Florence! Sheesh! Oh wait. Yeah I did. Huh. Genius. Just didn’t write very much….
Chapter 25: Round Two
So today we went back to Florence. It was actually much improved the second time. We started with just wandering through some streets as Lisi excitedly relived (out loud) her class trip (“Oh yeah! So then we went down this street where we found…”) and I much more mellowly eyed the designer outfits that people who know me often think I don’t eye, but let me break it to you once and for all—I’m a sucker for those designer outfits. Ah, Italia. Love the boots. But anyway. Back to Florence.
We stopped in a little café across the river where I got the best caffe macchiato I’ve had yet. Remember, this is Italy. And I’ve been having like three macchiatos a day (sshhh…). So that’s really saying something. It was PERFECT.
From there we found the church of Santo Spirito. It looked like a cardboard cutout. A do-it-yourself, glue-by-number church kit that the Florentines picked up at the local Hobby Lobby (which there isn’t one, by the way). Behind the cardboard church was a crazy homeless guy who started belting out an Italian song at the top of his lungs the first time I walked by. Not to me, I might clarify, just to the world in general, which, in that part of Florence, mostly consists of a bunch of back walls. The second time we walked by he began yelling things in indiscernible English. Again, not to us, but more to the pavement.
On the way back towards familiarity we stopped in a little art supply store which wasn’t too different from an American one, but it’s art supplies, so of course I got really excited for about twenty minutes and then purchased a lovely portable watercolor box which left me in a state of glee for the rest of the day. In fact I’m still really excited about it now. I hope to test it tomorrow. Lugging around TUBES of paint while on the international go just doesn’t cut it, man. And those silly little Prang boxes make me want to hurl a boulder at them thanks to the colors they produce. But again I digress rather far from the topic at hand, uh… Florence.
We next decided to shell out the €6 to climb to the tope of the tower by the Duomo. 414 steps and worth every one of them. Florence is amazing from above. Weather-wise it was a splotchy day, which actually makes for the most beautiful views. The mottled sunlight hits the rusty hues of the town at random, indiscriminately shining the spotlight on some, leaving others softly under shadow. All of Florence is colored in oranges and yellows, beiges and reds with red tiles roofs sprinkled over everything as though they were stacked dishes waiting for sorting. The surrounding hills were almost glowing in the rainy sunlight. A sea of luminous green cradling an orange city.
My favorite thing about the Italian countryside is the randomly organized variety. Over here is a clump of olive trees, over there a tangle of some other bush, there a neat row of cypress, here an orderly orchard grid, the trees perched in well behaved lines like fat balls lined up across the hill, there the wild untamed forest. The seamless interplay between the cultivated and the rogue, the thoughtfully-placed and the random, is what makes the country so beautiful here.
Well sheesh, that was poetic. Back to my more casual tone.
From the tower we made our way over to the church of Santa Croce, which had been recommended to us and is a popular tourist spot because several pretty cool dead guys are buried there and thus it’s a convenient way to kill eight birds with one stone, so to speak. Yeah, I just made up the number eight. Don’t read too much into it. Nor into killing birds with stones for that matter. Anyway. Unfortunately winter time is restoration time, and every single place we’ve been has been undergoing repairs. This was no exception. Today was “Dismantling the Scaffolding” day at Santa Croce church. Thus you walk in, and between the hammering and the crashing and the dust and the tarps and the ropes and workers, you feel more like you’re in a downtown construction zone than a stately tomb-filled church. But we saw Dante, we saw Michelangelo (yay!), we saw Leo da Vinci (well we think, but various placards confused us).
Next we walked to Lisi’s favorite place in Florence, a church up at the top of a hill above the Piazza di Michelangelo. The view from up there was phenomenal. Do I really have to keep clarifying that? I mean has there been a single time when I’ve gone, “Yeah, we looked out over the whole valley and thought ‘meh, I’ve seen better…’? Has there? My point exactly.
The church was really neat too. Not your typical set up. (An interjection from the omnipotent voice of the future: It was to be the last church I was really able to appreciate. I think it sent me over the edge. After that I was basically like, “Alright, show me one more cathedral and I may pass out from an overdose of stately and awe-inspiring.”)
We watched some Italian guys posing in front of the church for a picture and managed to sneak a picture of our own. Man, they were hilarious. I have never in my life seen anyone who thinks more of themselves or takes themselves more seriously. Ahahaha. Oh, we also wondered about the fact that we saw about four different guys who all looked almost identical. Actually it was more like me wondering about the fact that the same guy kept popping up everywhere we looked. He was omnipresent or something. Took me a while to figure out what on earth was going on. Finally it dawned on us. Ooooh, it’s a group of Dutch kids who all look exactly the same, not a glitch in the Matrix, I get it.
And after that it was about time for us to head back to the train station. I wanted to make a detour to see if I could find that pasticceria where I had gone with Vanya so I could get some torrone to bring back with me. Funnily enough I did find it. Wow. Didn’t realize I had a sense of direction.
We went home from there. Had a terrifying moment in which we were convinced that we were on entirely the wrong train and had been for the past hour, then suddenly found ourselves in Arezzo where we met the Sada Sats, got a gelato on the way home, and managed to make it a late night before a rainy morning.
We stopped in a little café across the river where I got the best caffe macchiato I’ve had yet. Remember, this is Italy. And I’ve been having like three macchiatos a day (sshhh…). So that’s really saying something. It was PERFECT.
From there we found the church of Santo Spirito. It looked like a cardboard cutout. A do-it-yourself, glue-by-number church kit that the Florentines picked up at the local Hobby Lobby (which there isn’t one, by the way). Behind the cardboard church was a crazy homeless guy who started belting out an Italian song at the top of his lungs the first time I walked by. Not to me, I might clarify, just to the world in general, which, in that part of Florence, mostly consists of a bunch of back walls. The second time we walked by he began yelling things in indiscernible English. Again, not to us, but more to the pavement.
On the way back towards familiarity we stopped in a little art supply store which wasn’t too different from an American one, but it’s art supplies, so of course I got really excited for about twenty minutes and then purchased a lovely portable watercolor box which left me in a state of glee for the rest of the day. In fact I’m still really excited about it now. I hope to test it tomorrow. Lugging around TUBES of paint while on the international go just doesn’t cut it, man. And those silly little Prang boxes make me want to hurl a boulder at them thanks to the colors they produce. But again I digress rather far from the topic at hand, uh… Florence.
We next decided to shell out the €6 to climb to the tope of the tower by the Duomo. 414 steps and worth every one of them. Florence is amazing from above. Weather-wise it was a splotchy day, which actually makes for the most beautiful views. The mottled sunlight hits the rusty hues of the town at random, indiscriminately shining the spotlight on some, leaving others softly under shadow. All of Florence is colored in oranges and yellows, beiges and reds with red tiles roofs sprinkled over everything as though they were stacked dishes waiting for sorting. The surrounding hills were almost glowing in the rainy sunlight. A sea of luminous green cradling an orange city.
My favorite thing about the Italian countryside is the randomly organized variety. Over here is a clump of olive trees, over there a tangle of some other bush, there a neat row of cypress, here an orderly orchard grid, the trees perched in well behaved lines like fat balls lined up across the hill, there the wild untamed forest. The seamless interplay between the cultivated and the rogue, the thoughtfully-placed and the random, is what makes the country so beautiful here.
Well sheesh, that was poetic. Back to my more casual tone.
From the tower we made our way over to the church of Santa Croce, which had been recommended to us and is a popular tourist spot because several pretty cool dead guys are buried there and thus it’s a convenient way to kill eight birds with one stone, so to speak. Yeah, I just made up the number eight. Don’t read too much into it. Nor into killing birds with stones for that matter. Anyway. Unfortunately winter time is restoration time, and every single place we’ve been has been undergoing repairs. This was no exception. Today was “Dismantling the Scaffolding” day at Santa Croce church. Thus you walk in, and between the hammering and the crashing and the dust and the tarps and the ropes and workers, you feel more like you’re in a downtown construction zone than a stately tomb-filled church. But we saw Dante, we saw Michelangelo (yay!), we saw Leo da Vinci (well we think, but various placards confused us).
Next we walked to Lisi’s favorite place in Florence, a church up at the top of a hill above the Piazza di Michelangelo. The view from up there was phenomenal. Do I really have to keep clarifying that? I mean has there been a single time when I’ve gone, “Yeah, we looked out over the whole valley and thought ‘meh, I’ve seen better…’? Has there? My point exactly.
The church was really neat too. Not your typical set up. (An interjection from the omnipotent voice of the future: It was to be the last church I was really able to appreciate. I think it sent me over the edge. After that I was basically like, “Alright, show me one more cathedral and I may pass out from an overdose of stately and awe-inspiring.”)
We watched some Italian guys posing in front of the church for a picture and managed to sneak a picture of our own. Man, they were hilarious. I have never in my life seen anyone who thinks more of themselves or takes themselves more seriously. Ahahaha. Oh, we also wondered about the fact that we saw about four different guys who all looked almost identical. Actually it was more like me wondering about the fact that the same guy kept popping up everywhere we looked. He was omnipresent or something. Took me a while to figure out what on earth was going on. Finally it dawned on us. Ooooh, it’s a group of Dutch kids who all look exactly the same, not a glitch in the Matrix, I get it.
And after that it was about time for us to head back to the train station. I wanted to make a detour to see if I could find that pasticceria where I had gone with Vanya so I could get some torrone to bring back with me. Funnily enough I did find it. Wow. Didn’t realize I had a sense of direction.
We went home from there. Had a terrifying moment in which we were convinced that we were on entirely the wrong train and had been for the past hour, then suddenly found ourselves in Arezzo where we met the Sada Sats, got a gelato on the way home, and managed to make it a late night before a rainy morning.
Monday, April 16, 2007
Chapter 24: Further Adventures and Misadventures
Yesterday we went to Perugia, which was really nice. We spent the whole day exploring crooked little streets and generally wandering around. We saw an ancient Estruscan well which was interesting enough as a historical site, but the neatest thing about it was the air. It was moist and steamy down there, by no means a temperature at which you'd normally be able to see your breath, but we could see it anyway. And unlike breathing into cold air, the clouds didn't disappear. Letting out a long whistle would emit this eerie echoing sound that would twist out of your throat in the form of writhing steam. It was very cool.
We also saw a sort of old official building which almost gave Lisi a heart attack because it turned out to be filled with blue chairs. A lovely old Renaissance building, and the chairs inside were bright blue. I think she was ready to declare war over the matter if not choke up her own spleen in shock.
Later, according to my notes, we had a good lunch and had a nice time spending a couple hours in a safe latch. I'm not sure what this means, other than that I need to work on writing more legibly. I do remember spending a couple hours drinking some super intense hot chocolate in a little cafe, though I'm not sure how that becomes a safe latch. On second glance, we may have spent a couple hours in a cafe latte, though that doens't sound so great either. Anyway.
The train ride back to San Guistino consisted mostly of us laughing our heads off at various memories and reminiscings from when Lisi was in New Mexico. As we're sitting there cracking up and talking rather loudly like any good pair of Americans (yes Lisi is American when speaking English is involved), the train pulls to a stop at some small town and a few people get up to get off the train. This guy approaches us with a grin like nothing you've ever seen.
"You speak English?" he asks Lisi, absolutely thrilled at the very idea.
"Yes, we are English speakers." Her eloquent response.
"I no speak English." This guy is really excited about this.
"Oh, well I'm sorry to hear that." She has no idea what she's talking about but is trying to be nice anyway.
"I'm sorry."
And he turns around and walks away as though we were just the highlight of his year. I spent most of the conversation ready to duck because the whole time he's talking his entire set of teeth are flopping back and forth as though they will fall on me at any moment. All in all it was quite the adventure.
So that was yesterday. Today we got briefly sidetracked on our journey to Cortona (freaking Piazza Garibaldi) and spent the rest of the day wandering around and trying to find lunch, which we eventually did in a little pastry shop. You have NO idea how hard it is to find lunch in Cortona. Well, actually, how hard it is to find a single living person in Cortona, much less one who's ready and willing to feed you. There was one construction worker guy who watched amusedly as we passed back and forth probably eight times on our epic search for vittles, but unfortunately he was unable to provide any. FINALLY we found lunch (at about 5 pm) in a little pastry shop (wait, I already told you that). Ok rewind. BEFORE the epic quest for lunch we saw... oh no wait. That was after lunch. Yeah. AFTER lunch we went to this church which was the second tourist attraction I've now come across which was cool because of whistling. The acoustics in there were so incredibly awesome. Which is, I suppose, true of any cathedral, except normally you don't have all those acoustics to yourself and therefore the ability to stand around whistling in them. I would let out the tiniest little whistle and it would continue ringing for eternity. Man it was awesome. It made me want to burst out into song and sing a round with myself, but somehow I didn't think that was entirely... kosher? orthodox? which religion are we discussing here? Anyway yeah. When I grow up, I want a cathedral in my back yard so I can sing in it.
BEFORE the church, we had lunch, guess where, yes, in a little pastry shop. But BEFORE that we hiked to the top of the hill (Cortona IS a hill) to an epic looking castle thingy which had an awesome door which was unfortunately rater epically locked and couldn't be entered. We did find a friar and a nun having a conversation by a little mini stonehenge thing. We took picture of them when they weren't looking, and then we went back down into Cortona where we eventually managed to find lunch. In a little pastry shop.
Ok, I think it's about time I tell you about this little pastry shop. They had crappy pizza. But very good pastries. And chocolates. And I discovered the ultimate wonder food. This was like the best dessert I have ever had. It was like somebody designed this amazing thing to be perfectly tailored to my tastebuds. Unfortunately I can't for the life of me remember what it was called, and thus will never find it again. Oh well.
That's it for the pastry shop. AFTER lunch we eventually left. But first saw a whistling church. And then left. With corn nuts. Yes, I bought corn nuts in Italy. They were tasty.
Tonight it got really windy. I first noticed when it was rattling the window in the bathroom. When I came back to our room I wanted to look out the door to try and see the wind. I opened the door and stuck my head outside and was seized with a sudden unimaginable terror. I'm not sure why. Outside was entirely black except for one section of light visible through the clouds down in the valley. Light rain. Heavy wind. But it hit me with this feeling of "oh my god something is going to get me if i do not close this door right NOW." Naturally this was intriguing and naturally I went back several times to scare the living daylights out of myself. Once I even decided to go back with the lights off, in the pitch dark. This was particularly frightening as all the doors in the rest of the house began moving about of their own accord as soon as lights were off. This turned out to be-- well no, I don't want to tell you what it turned out to be because then it doesn't sound as cool or as scary. The doors were moving by themselves in the dark. And creaking. And howling. End of story.
We also saw a sort of old official building which almost gave Lisi a heart attack because it turned out to be filled with blue chairs. A lovely old Renaissance building, and the chairs inside were bright blue. I think she was ready to declare war over the matter if not choke up her own spleen in shock.
Later, according to my notes, we had a good lunch and had a nice time spending a couple hours in a safe latch. I'm not sure what this means, other than that I need to work on writing more legibly. I do remember spending a couple hours drinking some super intense hot chocolate in a little cafe, though I'm not sure how that becomes a safe latch. On second glance, we may have spent a couple hours in a cafe latte, though that doens't sound so great either. Anyway.
The train ride back to San Guistino consisted mostly of us laughing our heads off at various memories and reminiscings from when Lisi was in New Mexico. As we're sitting there cracking up and talking rather loudly like any good pair of Americans (yes Lisi is American when speaking English is involved), the train pulls to a stop at some small town and a few people get up to get off the train. This guy approaches us with a grin like nothing you've ever seen.
"You speak English?" he asks Lisi, absolutely thrilled at the very idea.
"Yes, we are English speakers." Her eloquent response.
"I no speak English." This guy is really excited about this.
"Oh, well I'm sorry to hear that." She has no idea what she's talking about but is trying to be nice anyway.
"I'm sorry."
And he turns around and walks away as though we were just the highlight of his year. I spent most of the conversation ready to duck because the whole time he's talking his entire set of teeth are flopping back and forth as though they will fall on me at any moment. All in all it was quite the adventure.
So that was yesterday. Today we got briefly sidetracked on our journey to Cortona (freaking Piazza Garibaldi) and spent the rest of the day wandering around and trying to find lunch, which we eventually did in a little pastry shop. You have NO idea how hard it is to find lunch in Cortona. Well, actually, how hard it is to find a single living person in Cortona, much less one who's ready and willing to feed you. There was one construction worker guy who watched amusedly as we passed back and forth probably eight times on our epic search for vittles, but unfortunately he was unable to provide any. FINALLY we found lunch (at about 5 pm) in a little pastry shop (wait, I already told you that). Ok rewind. BEFORE the epic quest for lunch we saw... oh no wait. That was after lunch. Yeah. AFTER lunch we went to this church which was the second tourist attraction I've now come across which was cool because of whistling. The acoustics in there were so incredibly awesome. Which is, I suppose, true of any cathedral, except normally you don't have all those acoustics to yourself and therefore the ability to stand around whistling in them. I would let out the tiniest little whistle and it would continue ringing for eternity. Man it was awesome. It made me want to burst out into song and sing a round with myself, but somehow I didn't think that was entirely... kosher? orthodox? which religion are we discussing here? Anyway yeah. When I grow up, I want a cathedral in my back yard so I can sing in it.
BEFORE the church, we had lunch, guess where, yes, in a little pastry shop. But BEFORE that we hiked to the top of the hill (Cortona IS a hill) to an epic looking castle thingy which had an awesome door which was unfortunately rater epically locked and couldn't be entered. We did find a friar and a nun having a conversation by a little mini stonehenge thing. We took picture of them when they weren't looking, and then we went back down into Cortona where we eventually managed to find lunch. In a little pastry shop.
Ok, I think it's about time I tell you about this little pastry shop. They had crappy pizza. But very good pastries. And chocolates. And I discovered the ultimate wonder food. This was like the best dessert I have ever had. It was like somebody designed this amazing thing to be perfectly tailored to my tastebuds. Unfortunately I can't for the life of me remember what it was called, and thus will never find it again. Oh well.
That's it for the pastry shop. AFTER lunch we eventually left. But first saw a whistling church. And then left. With corn nuts. Yes, I bought corn nuts in Italy. They were tasty.
Tonight it got really windy. I first noticed when it was rattling the window in the bathroom. When I came back to our room I wanted to look out the door to try and see the wind. I opened the door and stuck my head outside and was seized with a sudden unimaginable terror. I'm not sure why. Outside was entirely black except for one section of light visible through the clouds down in the valley. Light rain. Heavy wind. But it hit me with this feeling of "oh my god something is going to get me if i do not close this door right NOW." Naturally this was intriguing and naturally I went back several times to scare the living daylights out of myself. Once I even decided to go back with the lights off, in the pitch dark. This was particularly frightening as all the doors in the rest of the house began moving about of their own accord as soon as lights were off. This turned out to be-- well no, I don't want to tell you what it turned out to be because then it doesn't sound as cool or as scary. The doors were moving by themselves in the dark. And creaking. And howling. End of story.
Saturday, April 14, 2007
Intermission 2
Another break in the general flow of the story, this time to send out a greeting from Edinburgh, Scotland. We have like no internet ever and then when we do I inevitably forget my trusty little black book, so of course this blog will never get under way and the rest will consist of intermissions. Whoa out of internet time. See what I mean? Ok, Edinburgh rocks and maybe next time I will not forget my little black book. Keep your fingers crossed. Yes, for days.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)