Saturday, August 10, 2013

Arrivederci

Three years ago when I left Paris, I posted on my blog that the French word for "goodbye" (au revoir) actually means "until we see each other again." There's a different word (adieu) for when you will never see the person again; then if you'll see the person again the next day or soon after, you say something like "à bientôt" or see you soon. Well, the same is true in Italian: arrivederci is literally the direct translation of "au revoir" and I will force myself to say that to Urbino, a place where saying goodbye was quite sad. 

Sure, the living accommodations weren't ideal, but the town was just a delight. Saying goodbye to Nicola (who I ran into randomly an hour before he was leaving for the weekend) was hard, then saying goodbye to Davide and Luca was even harder. Fortunately, Luca woke up early this morning so he could say goodbye again as we boarded the bus at 5am. The last thing he said to me was "ciao francese" (bye French girl). Yes, if I come back, he will probably say the same thing (since ciao is hello and goodbye). 

Davide, me, Gabriella, Luca

Our last night in Urbino consisted of another Italian marathon meal: 3+ hours of courses, appetizers, primi (pasta dishes), secondi (meats that I would never consider eating on my own...like shoulder of veal), and dolci (desserts). Then, followed by drinks and goodbyes at the caffè degli amici. 

This morning, I woke up at 4:30am after a record-breaking LOW amount of sleep in my life: 2 hours. I brought my (extremely overweight) suitcase down three flights of stairs, then up another four, then up a hill, all to get it out of Tridente and onto the bus. Fun times, fun times. Then, 3 hours (a little less actually) in the bus to the Bologna airport, a 20 minute bus to the train station, an hour-long train, and I was in Milano! Upon checking into the hotel, I promptly took a shower (without wearing sandals like I did in Tridente) and passed out for a few hours. Then, I walked around for 4 hours. This city is ugly. Nothing matches, it's very industrial, but has lots of fancy brand-name stores and Italian-style food/architecture to balance out the skyscrapers. It's an interesting place. I saw the duomo (gorgeous), La Scala (the world's greatest opera house), and a few other sights. Tomorrow, I'll see The Last Supper! But as for tonight, it is 10pm, and I think it's time for me to sleep. 

The duomo of Milano. Gorgeous, right? The inside wasn't bad either!

PS: I am walking around the fashion capital of this country with my handmade shoes from the local artisan in Urbino. I feel like such a small-town girl lost in a big city!


Wednesday, August 7, 2013

Heat wave

This summer is apparently a mild one here in Urbino. This week, it's been getting to about 100 degrees (F) every day, and even around 11pm it's still about 90. That, apparently, is what the entire 6 weeks of the Rutgers summer program has been in some summers. Fortunately for us, we will only get a week of this. 

To explain what the effects of this extreme heat are, I'll just use bullet points. I'm sure everyone has a good enough imagination to fill in the rest: 

- These little coffins they call dorm rooms never cool down. You always wake up in a sweat, go to bed in a sweat, etc. I have considered taking a shower before bed and immediately upon waking up, but decided that would be useless, since after the walk to the Caffè degli amici and class in the morning, I'd be just as sweaty. 

- Walking into town to get giant bottles of water becomes a bit tedious. It's a 25 minute walk, up a very large hill once you get inside the gate. The walk to the gate consists of strange little back roads with cars whizzing past at any given moment. Yesterday, I walked to the supermarket on top of the hill, bought a giant bottle of pear juice, and it was all gone by the end of the walk back. 

- Strangely enough, drinking your weight in water every day doesn't make you go to the bathroom ten times as often. I'm guessing this is because I am that dehydrated—I either sweat all the water out, or it is going somewhere that really needs it. And I'm not the only student who has been noticing this: everyone seems to find it strange. But, since our toilet paper is essentially rationed (we can get two rolls on Monday and Thursday), it's a good thing we're not using it twice as often. 

- Laziness sets in when it's this hot. I have written a few times that I don't see how Italians get anything done, and I'll say it again. When it's this hot, you don't feel like eating, reading, writing, and are physically unable to nap. I've been sitting around and talking with the Italians who are left, the other students, or going to the Caffè to chat with Davide and Luca. Luckily for me, the conversation practice is what I would consider work (it's at least helpful to me), but additionally it's the only thing you can really do in this heat. 

But after all of this, a group of us have decided that, in an hour and a half, we're going to take a nice walk to where the bricks of Urbino were all made. We'll bring two or three large bottles of water with us (each) in our attempt to combat the heat-induced laziness. We can be lazy in America when we get home!

Monday, August 5, 2013

Venezia!!

Lifelong dream accomplished! So, even if the weekend had been disappointing, it still wouldn't have been a waste. Fortunately, it was one of the greatest weekends I've ever had, and now that it's over, I'm definitely disappointed to be back in Urbino. Let me tell you how awesome my weekend was: 

Friday:

Gabriella and I got to leave class early to catch a bus, then a train to Venice. We left class around 10:15 to catch the 10:35 bus (getting to the bus stop requires walking down a highway with no sidewalks, then around hills on a sidewalk that heads upwards to the town gate); in the bus, we drove down the mountain to the coast, where Pesaro is, and it took about an hour; we waited a bit at the bus station, got lunch, and got on our train; the train was direct, meaning it still went all the way to Bologna before getting to Venice, which might seem out of the way, but it was at least faster than taking two separate trains; and we got to Venice around 4. We met the woman who was renting us the apartment in the train station, stepped outside of Santa Lucia (the station) and were overwhelmed. It might have been the humidity, or maybe that Venice is the most beautiful place in the world. Probably a combination of the two. And while we thought we had finally arrived, we still had a 25 minute walk through crowded streets to get to the apartment, carrying our bags and in my case, my flute. But we made it, and the apartment was perfect! It was in a little side street, actually off of one of the normal little streets (calli) underneath an overhang. The street was narrow, there was no one around, but it was also a hop, skip, and a jump away from the Rialto bridge. 

While waiting for the other three students to arrive (they weren't so lucky, couldn't miss class, and didn't take a direct train), Gabriella and I went to the ghetto for some aperitivi. The ghetto, in case you don't know, as a word, originated in Venice. The area where the Jews lived, they built their buildings really high to save money, and so the whole area is basically filled with little Italian skyscrapers. The word comes from the name of their factory, and has since been used to describe other places where Jews were forced to live. But, the area isn't a ghetto like you'd think in Venice. It's just a neighborhood like others, with its own history, and its own peculiarities. 

Me in the Ghetto, after having two spritz! As you can see, I was very happy. 

We then headed back to the apartment before meeting Nicole, Reveka, and Andra at the station to show them to the apartment. Then, we all went to this restaurant right near the apartment to have dinner and celebrate Reveka's 20th birthday, which luckily fell right on this trip! We even got them to put candles into her fruit dessert (she doesn't like sweets) and sing! The people at this restaurant were so nice to us, Gabriella and I even went back on Sunday for lunch before leaving the city. 

Saturday: 

We all woke up early and got breakfast at a local bakery. Fresh and typically Venetian, and the ladies who owned the place were sweet and very appreciative of our Italian. Then, we headed to San Marco to tour the basilica. Thankfully, I booked ahead so we didn't have to wait in a line. Of course...that's how that was supposed to work. Turns out, booking ahead means that you just wait in a shorter line. But we made good time. 

The whole thing was under construction, but here's a nice picture anyway. There was a beautiful fog that morning. All my other pictures are on my real camera, which I won't be able to do anything about until I'm home. 

We made our way back towards the apartment at a leisurely pace, stopping in any store we found interesting, passing over Rialto, and then arriving early at the Campo dei Santi Apostoli at the beginning of the Strada Nuova. This is where we were meeting Sara, my first Italian professor from Princeton. 

Background on Sara: she is from Venice. She likes cakes. A lot. Every time it's someone's birthday, she makes them bring in a cake. But she's not a hypocrite. She brings in cakes on her own birthday. All jokes aside, she is without a doubt my favorite Italian language professor, and if I could have seen any of them in Italy this summer, it would have been her. 

So, back to the story. She got there, met the group (she only knew Andra and me, since we're the only two from Princeton), and brought us to a really great, traditional Venetian restaurant that was off the beaten path. To get there, we followed her sort of random path through the various calli, because she likes them better since they're in the shade. She walks fast in Venice, and we did our best to follow her through the head and humidity, through these little streets, and as a result, we were a bit disoriented at the restaurant. I'm pretty sure none of us knew where this restaurant was, or would be able to find it again. But that's part of the fun of Venice—getting lost. That's why it's called the labyrinth! 

The restaurant was empty, air conditioned, and there was no cover charge. They also gave us all free cocktails to start the meal—pear nectar, prosecco, and a few other things that I can't remember. We had to order everything in groups of two, and I ended up getting little ravioli filled with some strange fruity cheese. It was amazing! I also had some spaghetti alle vongole (clams), since Sara and Nicole didn't want any more, and Sara's solution was to take my plate and put theirs in front of me, then take pictures of me staring at it until I finally started eating. Then she took pictures of everyone else and asked about Urbino, which she knows very well since she taught at this program twice. 

After lunch, we split up. Reveka went off on her own (she likes to disappear and wander by herself), Nicole and Gabriella went to the McDonald's to spend an hour in air conditioning with free wifi (we didn't have wifi in the apartment), and Andra and I followed Sara on a much longer wandering, fast-paced, walking tour of Venice. We saw everything from the upper edge of the island where there's a nice view of Murano (where they make the glass), the cemetery (which I still really want to see...), and the arsenal, then basically crossed the whole thing to get to the Galleria dell'Accademia which is a bit after San Marco. We stopped at the hospital and the church next to it, where the Dogi are buried. They also have one of what I can only assume are Saint Catherine's MANY feet (you know how relics work...). We passed by the area with our apartment and peeked into the Chiesa di Santa Maria dei Miracoli. A quick stop at a bar where we didn't sit down (that costs extra), but got some sirop/water (mint!), and we were back on our way. My favorite thing that Sara showed us was this: 

Sara told us this statue is known by Venetians as the "caga libri" because the man in the statue (who wrote one of the first Italian dictionaries) seems to be pooping books. It's basically how I felt after I finished my general exams! I had just enough time to snap this picture before running to catch up with Sara and Andra, because we weren't even close to done. 

And finally, we arrived at the Accademia where we met Gabriella and Nicole and parted ways with Sara. The Galleria dell'Accademia is an amazing museum, and if I knew anything at all about art history, I would probably be able to argue that it is equally as impressive as the Ufizzi. But since I don't know anything about art, I'll say why I liked it: air conditioning, it wasn't crowded, the art was amazing and I recognized a lot of the names, plenty of places to sit, and did I mention the air conditioning? Geez is Venice hot! 

After the Accademia, we got granite (Italian ice, also mint!), gelati, then headed back to the apartment for more air conditioning. When it got reasonably cooler, I headed back to the Strada Nuova where I played the Carnival of Venice in the street!! Gabriella videotaped the beginning, and I will indeed post it when I get home. A man gave me 50 cents! Not bad for about 6 minutes of playing. And once I finished the first four pages (and figured that was a good place to stop), Reveka said I should keep going since I had a little audience (very little—basically 4 or 5 people). So, I finished it, and an Italian girl told me that I was amazing, that I should be in an orchestra, and when I responded in Italian, she asked if I was Italian because my accent is apparently that good! So, ultimately, Saturday was a perfect day. 

Sunday: 

We woke up early, Reveka had already left to wander on her own, and so the four of us got pastries from our new favorite bakery (I got one called "Bacione in gondola" or a "big kiss in a gondola"), and then we actually rode in a gondola! No, we didn't do the expensive one. Or even the cheap one. Either would have been 80 or 100 euros. We followed Sara's advice and took the 30 second gondola ride from one side of the Canal Grande to the other. It costs two euros, you take as many pictures as you can, and then you head merrily on your way. It was delightful! 

Gabriella and I bid goodbye to Nicole, Reveka, and Andra (who had an earlier, once again not direct train), then headed back to our new favorite restaurant for lunch. I got black pasta (black because of the squid ink—really great texture!), with some fresh Venetian seafood in it as well as zucchini. The seafood was kind of like clams, but longer. Very good. And we had a fun conversation with the waiter and chef, who now know and love us because we passed by so often heading to and from the apartment. 

Then, 25 minute walk to the station, 3.5 hour train ride back to Pesaro, and the bus ride and we were back in Urbino. We found Reveka, Andra, and Nicole at the Pesaro station—even though their train was earlier than ours, it took longer. Clearly, it is worth it to pay slightly more for the direct train! 

Summary: We saw Venice quickly, but well. We lived in a residential area, got to know real Venetians, spoke tons of Italian, got a tour from my favorite professor who happens to be Venetian, rode a gondola, I became a professional street performer, fulfilled a lifelong goal, saw a statue that poops books, and came back to Urbino where there was a party going on above my room. I think I'm ready to leave Italy. 
 


Thursday, August 1, 2013

Small town life

Urbino living presents a kind of small-town life that people would assume I was used to back in Clarence given the size. But, here is the small-town life that you see in the movies. Here are some examples:

1) Walking through the main piazza, Gabriella and I saw Nicola, who was talking on the phone to his old flatmate back in Paris and passed me the phone so this Parisian guy could see that he wasn't lying about knowing an American who spoke French without any accent at all. The guy on the phone said, wow...that's rare! Even when French people compliment you, it still always seems like an insult to the American population. Even in Italy. 

2) Tonight, we did karaoke again, as a giant Rutgers group. I got there late with Gabriella because I decided to take a nap because of the shameful amount of sleep I got due to the party above my room last night (PS: Salvatore is dead to me). My nap went a little longer than expected (2.5 hours), so we were about an hour late to karaoke. Apparently, when everyone got there without us, the karaoke man said: "Where's Natalie? I want her to sing 'La guerra di Piero' again!" When I got there and told him I wanted to sing Jovanotti songs all night, he begged me to sing "La guerra di Piero." We reached a compromise and sang "L'anno che verrà" by Lucio Dalla. 

3) I go into a store today that specializes in handmade wooden objects. I think I want a funny animal-shaped clock, and they can carve your name into them or paint them in fancy letters. I told the lady which clock I wanted and asked if it would be possible to put my name on it, and she said she's not sure because it's not the right shape, but that if I come back on Monday when she's working, she'll try whereas other people might just have said no outright. 

4) A dog came up to us during our aperitivi today. It was cute. We fed it. The waiter told us not to feed it because it's fat. We asked whose dog it was. It apparently belongs to the drug store owners. We went to the drug store and told them we loved their dog. Her name is Polly. And they said not to feed her, because she's fat. 

5) I've seen the guy who made me my shoes like every day. He loves that I wear the shoes every day. Everyone wins! 

Wednesday, July 31, 2013

The Italian language

As the Italians party incessantly above my room, with the speaker literally a few feet above my head creating a sort of pounding effect on all the walls and ceiling around me, I'm going to write a blog post about something I've found interesting in my Italian short story class. 

We've been talking a lot about Italian dialects. For those who don't know, standard Italian was a conscious decision that has failed to unify this country linguistically, just as the political unification back in the 19th century didn't particularly succeed either. To explain myself, I'll start with the French example, since that's clearly what I know best. 

In the 16th century in France, during the Renaissance, a group of writers (specifically Du Bellay) were particularly insistent that the national language of the country should be French, and that people should write in French instead of in Latin (which at the time was a language reserved and spoken only by academics and religious figures, and was drastically different from the Latin spoken in the Roman Empire before the Middle Ages). Du Bellay's argument was that French was the vernacular, the vulgar language if you will, and that in order for it do develop properly, it needed a literature. Fortunately, this seemed to coincide (approximately) with a thorough formalization of the language on every level. A creation, rather. The French language, as we know it today, finds its roots in this recreation of a naturally-developed tongue, a refashioning that consisted in a standardization of the accents (é, è, î, etc.), the way letters were written (the printing press, as you know, was new technology back then, and it was especially important to have that standardized), the way things were pronounced, the way poetry should be written, etc. In the following century, the Académie française was established as the authority on the French language, its official protector, and it does things such as actively try to keep other languages from entering into the French one. 

I know I'm not competent to make any grand judgments about this standardization, but I like to think that it is part of the reason there are more jobs available for French literature PhD students than Italian literature PhD students at the very least. I'd venture to go even farther, and say that this linguistic unification in France allowed for a national unification that didn't happen in Italy until much later. And even when Italy as a country was unified about three centuries later, the fact that a forced political union preceded a parallel linguistic one seems to be a major hindrance to speaking about a national Italian literature, or even Italian literary history. What's more, this lack of communication (given even now in Italy, everyone continues to speak their own dialect first, and is taught at the very least to understand standard Italian) might be contributing to their political and economic problems. Like I said, I don't know or care enough about Italian politics or economics to comment in detail, but a part of me believes that these problems are related to the linguistic barrier. 

For instance, we're discussing Calvino's collection of Italian Folktales, and this collection was written in the 50's in Italy. Written might not be the best term. To write it, Calvino went all around the country, listened to stories that had been conserved in a purely oral and dialectical tradition, and rewrote them in standard Italian with his own inimitable style and brilliance. They are delightful stories, an important work in Italian literature to say the least. This was done in the 1950's. He was the first to do it. Even nowadays, Italian writers incorporate their dialects into their works, mostly in a way all Italians can understand, but this sort of style might be part of the reason that Italian literature in general isn't quite as international as other literatures. Calvino's Italian seems mostly free of dialects to me, but honestly, what do I really know? I've been studying this language for 2 years. It is almost astounding that American students who learn Italian in college feel they can do academic work on Italian literature. It seems to me that to know the literary history and context would be virtually impossible for a non-native speaker given the existence and predominance of these dialects. 

Anyway, that was my academic post for this blog. Forgive me. I'm not thinking straight because it is 12:01am and they are turning up the music above my room. I have a headache, and have to give a 15 minute presentation in class tomorrow. I don't understand why they continue to have these parties for a dwindling number of people (I was up there 20 minutes ago, and there were under 10 people there), on Tuesday and Wednesday nights, as loud as possible. In fact, perhaps the linguistic issue isn't the real problem. Immaturity, people being inconsiderate, and laziness might be the real culprits. These Italian students don't seem to understand that in order to get 2 semester's worth of credit for 6 weeks in Italy, they have to do a lot of work, wake up every morning at 7am, have three hours of class a day, and especially this: get their money's worth. Italians are worse than the French in this respect. The university costs so little, they have no incentive to do well. Their exams are oral. They aren't required to attend classes. A minimum amount of work can get them a passing grade, and eventually a degree that likely won't help them get a job. And while they refuse to understand why American universities cost so much, Americans pay that price because we believe a university education will help us get a job, and a better job than had we not gone. And since we're paying, there is more incentive to learn something. Italians, on the other hand, seem to chill at their university, party, and stay as long as they want. The guy throwing this party is 30 years old, living in a dorm with students a decade younger than him, and screaming "ciao nè" into a microphone above my head right now. Good thing Italy's so pretty...

Tuesday, July 30, 2013

Italians and road work

Italians are infuriating. Especially when it comes to fixing their extremely poorly designed highway directly in front of the Caffè degli amici. This morning, around 8:00am when everyone is trying to drive to work, or in our case, walk to breakfast/class, they decided to repave the entire street. I don't know much about this, but I would assume that in America, this sort of work would be done at a time at which it wouldn't interfere with most people's lives. Possibly around 4 in the morning, or late at night. But I guess Italians only work during normal weekday hours. Fine, I'll accept that. Perhaps they might have considered doing this paving at or around 3pm, when the caffè is closed, and when everyone in this entire country is taking their post-lunch naps, when people are safely at their jobs, and when there is almost no one on the road. No, that would be too logical for Italians. They decide to pick the most inconvenient time to rip up the current street, put down new tar, and flatten it all in front of a group of student eating at the caffè immediately in front of them. 

The fumes were strong enough to kill. The whole process seemed positively unsafe, as their machines were getting uncomfortably close to the caffè. The tar was hot, the machines were everywhere, and people kept trying to cross the street but couldn't. Did I mention there are also no sidewalks? This would have been a lawsuit waiting to happen in America. In Italy, I suppose it was just a Tuesday morning. As one of the other students said, Italy is a first-world country with third-world problems. Possibly because of their corrupt government leaders, or the overall laziness which may be due in part to the intense heat. Those slight annoyances from France, such as the time it takes to complete very simple tasks (see my post about opening a French bank account), are exponentially worse here, and we're not even seeing half of it since we're here within the context of an American university that is doing everything for us. On the one hand, it's good for us to get out of the stressed mindset that everything has to be done immediately; on the other, we still need to turn in our work on time, whether or not the Italians have fixed the Internet. All in all, a six week program in Italy is a nice vacation, but actually studying here would probably be somewhat of a hindrance to productivity. 

The International Student Party

I don't know if I've mentioned Nicola and Michele in this blog. In any case, I met Nicola when Gabriella was teaching Mike and me yoga on one of the many Tridente terraces. It was a nice day, and we were trying to be totally silent while doing these various poses, then some Italian guy broke the silence by having a telephone conversation in French a few feet away from us. I didn't notice, but Gabriella and I both told me to speak to him in French (they couldn't tell that he had an Italian accent in French, but I could. I love the Italian accent in French—it's quite delicate!), so I did. Turns out he had just gotten back from a year in France through Europe's Erasmus program, a cheap and wonderful way for European students to take advantage of the proximity of other countries. 

Well, we have been hanging out with Nicola and his friend Michele for a while. Nicola cannot believe that I don't have an accent in French, and is also quite impressed with my Italian. But, like any good Italian, he acts very immature all the time, and jokes around with all of us. With me, he tells me I have a French accent in Italian since I told him I like his Italian accent in French. Anyway, Nicola was at the party last night (Michele is back home in Puglia) and told me an excellent fairy tale: 

"Once upon a time, or maybe twice, there was a human being." 

The rest of the story was just as good as that opening would suggest. Everyone else was dancing to the standard American party music, so I wasn't particularly enjoying barely being able to hear the story.  In any case, it is really fun to have trilingual conversations, walk that fine line between sarcasm and irony to keep up with Nicola's sense of humor, and hear an Italian tell a fairy tale in English, since we're reading lots of Italian fairy tales in our class nowadays (mostly Calvino)!

Ask and you shall receive

Yesterday, it stormed. And it was glorious! In the broken Italian of the American students here in Urbino, the event sounds quasi biblical: "Then, the big cloud came and gave us rain. Suddenly, it was cool." Suddenly, my room was bearable, or even better, cool! Leaving both the door and the window open helped as well. The bees are back, but with the window opened all the way, they seem to find their way out rather quickly. And the rain came just in time for the International Student party, a little thank-you from the ERSU staff (the people who run this student housing/dining company) for the American programs who are keeping Urbino a point of international encounters. Ironic, since they choose Urbino since it isn't international—walking around this town, it would be relatively difficult to find people to converse at length with in English. 

So, yesterday turned out to be a mental health day. Just relaxing, napping, watching the storm. And it was delightful. 


Sunday, July 28, 2013

The hottest summer of the year

A few days ago, an Italian in the dorm posted a news piece on my Facebook wall saying the hottest summer in decades was almost upon us. I didn't read it. I was busy and tired, and besides, everyone knows Italy is hot. 40 degrees Celsius means very little to me (more than it did a few years ago, but still...). It would soon be even hotter. But how to distinguish when you're living in a dorm with no air conditioning that is already an oven?

Well, I am now a refugee. A refugee from the heat. I don't want to go outside. Ever. Yesterday, we went to the beach, and it helped a bit, but ultimately just lead to more cold showers when we got back. The beach at Pesaro is very lovely, but I was once again disappointed in the commercial aspect of Italian beaches. If you haven't been to one or seen it in a movie, it looks like identical rows of chairs and umbrellas (beach ombrellas, or ombrelloni) that you pay to use. Convenient, sure. But unique? Apparently not. The difference between the beach at Rimini and the beach at Pesaro was that the one at Rimini had more hotels behind it, and no mountain in the distance. Aside from that, not particularly exciting. The water was warm, so not much of an escape from this intense heat, and Gabriella got the sunburn of her life. I've had worse, but it's still quite bad. The others decided to go to Fano, another beach that is apparently prettier but farther away. Honestly, I don't understand what could make an Italian beach prettier. Are there fewer chairs? 

The heat is so intense, I think the giant bees have died. I am no longer afraid to leave my window open on the off chance a stupid bee will get trapped in my room, because I haven't seen one in ages. But unfortunately, it is hotter than ever and the rooms just don't seem to want to cool down, not even at night when the temperature becomes even slightly bearable. 

So, I am inside today. Either here at Tridente or at the Caffè degli amici, where there is air conditioning. I am thinking of making the trip back there in an hour or so. The trade: 5 minutes of walking in this heat for an hour of cool and refreshing drinks. Then 5 minutes back. Hmmm...maybe not. In any case, that is the situation here in Urbino. 

Yesterday, I played The Carnival of Venice for Luca and a bunch of African priests-in-training who speak French at the Caffè degli amici, and got two free spritzes! And that is all the news I have. So, back to my goals for today: 

1) Do my readings for tomorrow's class

2) Finish my essay for tomorrow's class (just 1 page left, unless I feel the need to write more than 2 pages)

3) Take a cold shower

4) Don't die of heat exhaustion 

5) Eat dinner

6) Avoid the sun as much as possible

7) Try to sleep despite the uncomfortable sticky heat. 

Question: How does anything get done in Italy? How has anything EVER gotten done in Italy? 

Friday, July 26, 2013

The guy who made my shoes is also an antique music fan!

Urbino is the cutest small town ever, apparently. And several events from this week have proved just that. 

First off, I should mention my scholarship donor from Johns Hopkins, Rosalind, came to visit me. Ros is an italophile (not sure if that's a word...) and has been ever since she was at Hopkins at wrote a thesis on Boccaccio. She spent her last year at Hopkins in Italy, traveling everywhere she could, and managed to get to some pretty obscure places apparently. For instance, she got here and asked if I had heard of the mosaics in Ravenna. I, of course, said yes, since we were just there. She said she was heading there after Rimini, and wanted to know if I wanted to tag along. Too bad I had just seen them. 

Anyway, walking around Urbino, we ran into everyone I know here. Students, Luca/Davide from the caffè, Nicola and Michele, random other people. Ros is now convinced this place is the Italy she knew, and not the commercialized tourist trap it seems to be now. She enjoyed herself having conversations with random Italians everywhere about the university here in Urbino, and came to the conclusion that it is one of the worst in Italy, that none of the professors have published anything in the last decade at least, that the students don't attend classes, and that the quality is just pathetic. But, at least little Italian university towns are friendly, no matter how bad the school. 

On Tuesday, I got my shoes, and they are wonderful. Here is a picture: 
The guy fitted them right to my feet.

But the funny thing is, I just saw him again tonight! I went to a "musica antica" concert (there's a huge festival going on, and people from all over the world have come to see this ancient music being performed on reproductions of the old instruments) and there he was! Good thing I was wearing the shoes! 


Tuesday, July 23, 2013

Presents to myself

By the way, I'm writing these posts so late because the Italians were just partying directly above my room. Well, Italians and Americans. Very few Italians are left, and they are throwing parties for the Americans who are taking their place. Nice, but not right above my room. I went for a minute or two, then went back downstairs to work on the presentation I have to give tomorrow before getting out of town with Rosalind Resnick, my scholarship donor from Hopkins who has come to visit me! We're going to Rimini, a little beach town, and I'll write more about that once I see it. 

1) Shoes: An Italian man here owns a leather store and makes quality leather products. I bought myself a pair of shoes that he made for me. He measured my feet, let me pick the style and color, fit them on my feet, punched holes in so I could fasten them, and I walked out of the store with a new pair of custom-made shoes! Not bad, huh? Not too expensive either—just your shoe size plus 10, so 48 euros for me!

2) Earrings on the Ponte Vecchio: Yes, I wanted a pair of earrings, and yes I wanted to buy them in Florence. While I wouldn't ordinarily pay so much for earrings, I figured I can keep them forever (it's not like they will ever break, go out of style, or not fit my ears anymore) and I can tell the story of how I went shopping for them on the Ponte Vecchio. The price was 230 euros, but the lady gave me a discount because she was so impressed with my Italian, so 180. Then, she gave me the tax refund forms so I can get even more money back for them at the airport on the way home!

3) An official Uffizi guide: I waited twice in the line for the Uffizi, two hours each time, all to no avail. I hated that museum with a passion. Both times would have been impossible for me to make a reservation (the first was Easter weekend while I was studying in Paris, so no reservations) and the second was after graduating from Hopkins, and I took the train from Pisa to go to Florence just for a day with Justine. Didn't get there early enough. This time, Andrea Baldi, the program director, made a reservation for the students who wanted to go, and I was determined to spend 4 hours there to make up for my wasted time. I succeeded! And bought myself a lovely 18 euro book with pictures of all the art I wasn't allowed to take pictures of in this INCREDIBLE museum. 

4) Tickets to see Roberto Benigni recite the Divine Comedy. Fine...not a "present" in the sense that I can take it home with me, but I got pictures, and really enjoyed it. Plus, I can tell everyone how I saw an award-winning Italian actor recite Dante in front of the statue of Dante in Florence, the city where Dante was born and started writing this important text for Italian history/language/literature. 25 euros. 

5) A silk/cashmere scarf. Gorgeous, got a discount because I spoke Italian, and I just wanted it. 35 euros. 

But, I guess the punchline should be: A trip to Florence, priceless? Eh...clearly there were prices. But this was the first time I have really enjoyed Florence. We also went to Siena, where they have the most beautiful cathedral ever, and San Gimignano where they have the gelateria which has won Italy's contest for the best gelato TWICE! 

Roberto Benigni...I got better pictures on my camera. 

Roma

So, not this past weekend, but the one before, I went to Rome (Roma) with several other students from the program. The various ways in which this trip was carried out is a testament to studying abroad in general, and the types of students you come across here. 

1) "The Princeton Girls" — I am not considered a Princeton girl, even if I go to Princeton. The three Princeton undergrads together (Caroline, Joan, and Andra) stick together like glue, and the rest of the students have taken to calling them "The Princeton Girls." I complained about not being included in the nickname, and Luca (from the caffè) has decided to call me "La Princeton girl francese" or the French Princeton girl. Thanks Luca. Anyway, Caroline, Joan and Andra all knew each other well, reserved a 3-person hotel room at a nice hotel reasonably far in advance, and planned on spending a nice weekend in Rome seeing the sights. Caroline is especially privileged (her family takes trips to Europe every summer) and has been to Rome many times, so she was planning on playing the tour guide for the others. 

2) Jennifer, Becky, and me — We don't know everyone in the program perfectly, and decided to see when everyone was going to Rome to plan around that. When everyone said they wanted to go two weekends ago, we all had a meeting at which most of the others decided they preferred to stay in a hostel rather than pay 80 euros for 2 nights in a hotel. Jen, Becky and I decided to book a last-minute triple in a hotel that wasn't quite as nice as that of "The Princeton Girls." 

3) "The Wolf Pack" — Unfortunately, when studying abroad, you get students who came to partake in underage drinking (since they are legally old enough to drink here), party every night, and who view the academics and cultural immersion as a side effect. They don't tend to learn much from what I've seen, but they have a good time. In the Rutgers program, they have called themselves "The Wolf Pack." I don't know how they do it, but I'm impressed by their stamina. They found a house to rent in Rome, and fit 4-5 people in each room and shared 3 bathrooms. They had no wifi, and had a hard time communicating with the rest of us. Two of them got their cell phones stolen on the metro, and several of them got lost on various occasions. They enjoyed their weekend, but I have a feeling I wouldn't have with them.*

*I just want to specify: these are all nice students individually, most with Italian roots who are interested in being in Italy and learning about their heritage. They are just more interested in other things. They're an eclectic bunch, and very bright. I just can't keep track of them on an average day, and I'm starting to become a bit sleep deprived because of them. 

Anyway, my weekend in Rome was spent with groups 1 and 2, obviously. We saw the sights, ate gelati, and I made my first Italian joke! At a restaurant, I wanted a traditional, spicy Roman chicken, but some guy named Marco had ordered the last one. When the waiter suggested I yell at him, I laughed it off and said "Marco mi ha rubato il pollo. Marco Pollo" (Marco stole my chicken [pollo]. Marco Pollo." Not bad, and making jokes in a new language is a clear sign of progress!

Here are some pictures:

Tossing a coin into the Trevi fountain at night, dressed as a Venetian apparently, even though the shirt is one of the Marinières I bought in Paris. Salvatore told me I looked like a gondolier when I was leaving Urbino, and asked if I knew which city I was going to...


Because Marco stole my Pollo, I got this lovely fish that I had to debone myself. Turns out, I'm a pro! Joan got a bone stuck in her throat...

Becky, Caroline, and me. 

Me in front of the Colosseum

Me eating a delicious granita which you can't really see since Jen apparently didn't understand why I wanted her to take a picture with my ice cream. There is a glass filled with napkins in front of the ice cream!! Oh Jen...







Wednesday, July 17, 2013

Italians and Internet

First, apologies for everyone who has been waiting for a blog post. I would have written several, given everything I've done since the 11th (going to Rome, participating in fun Italian parties, visiting Urbino's ducal palace, seeing priceless works of art, etc.), but in that time, I have learned something very important about Italians: they are slow. Thursday, after visiting the Palazzo Ducale, I actually decided to do my work and write about it later, but unfortunately there would be no later, since I left for Rome on Friday after class, and when I came back to Urbino Sunday night, I was informed that the Internet was out. How long had it been out, you ask? Well, starting Saturday night when there was a big storm. If I were at Princeton, it would be back almost immediately. Americans can't function without Internet, as you all must know. But here, their reaction is: well, we'll have to wait until regular weekday hours (which, in Italy, include a 2 hour break every day for lunch). I figured it would be back up on Monday. It is Wednesday night and it's still not back. We have a somewhat unreliable connection in the common area, which is where I am now, but that is it. Yesterday, I was able to check my email and Skype a bit, because I found a secret, slightly more reliable Internet that is outside in between two of the "braccia" (arms) of Tridente. But given how inconvenient it would have been to bring my iPad and keyboard out to a stone staircase and sit amongst the bugs writing a blog entry, I didn't bother. 

Anyway, where to begin? I guess I will start with yesterday and today. Tomorrow, I'll try to write about Rome (for some reason, my photos of Rome haven't transferred to my iPad yet). 

Last night: I had to prepare for a presentation that didn't end up happening today because we ran out of time. We had dinner with the Italian girls who are left in our part of braccio 2, and I heard a poem in the Veronese dialect! It was "come musica" to quote Jovanotti. Then, I went to a party that was being held right above my room. Why? Well, can't beat 'em, join 'em. That was my philosophy. Otherwise, I wouldn't have possibly been able to sleep, because they had a DJ (well, an Italian student named Andrea who was doing it all on his computer, but he was quite good) and they were extremely loud. Another reason I had to go: the Italian student who was throwing the party, Salvatore, had just given me a beautiful gift. He had painted me playing my flute, and given the paintings to me. They are wonderful! Hopefully I can post pictures later. So, I had to go to the party. Result: I got no sleep. 

Today: I didn't do my presentation because we ran out of time. I will do it tomorrow. I came back and took a 2 hour nap, given how exhausted I was from the never-ending party above my room last night. When I woke up, I pulled out my flute and started playing "Il Carnevale di Venezia" in preparation for my forthcoming trip to Venezia, and then heard more noise above my room. I went up to see what was happening, and found Salvatore cleaning up from the previous night. He saw I had my flute, and asked me to play The Carnival of Venice for him! PS: It's delightful playing on the roof with the mountains in front of you. Anyway, Salvatore told me to put my flute away, because we were going to have a bit of fun. He said we were going to "bagnare" the others. I didn't quite know what that meant. Bagnare means to wash. I was confused. Until I saw his water guns. He called Andrea, asked where he was, and we went over to braccio 1. Andrea was complaining about how hot it was when Salvatore opened fire. Andrea asked him to stop, because it was his only clean shirt apparently. I felt bad, so gave Andrea my water pistol. Then, Salvatore opened fire on me. Yes, that was my afternoon. In France, to practice my French, I met French people for coffee. In Italy, I apparently have to participate in water wars. And that is my life. 

Wednesday, July 10, 2013

Urbino and Classes

I realized that, although Italian dorm life is indeed fascinating, the grand majority of my posts have been about that and not the actual city of Urbino. And even though that makes sense—our dorm building is a 10 minute walk from the city, on top of another hill, and our classes are held in a high school outside the city walls—I should probably write a bit about the actual city of Urbino. I should be able to write historical things tomorrow, because we're going to have a guided tour of the Ducal Palace in the afternoon, but for the moment, I'll just make a few observations. 

Urbino is one big hill. It's a beautiful one, but it's a hill nonetheless. What does this mean? Why is it relevant? Well, to enter the city, we have to walk the 20 minutes to the wall, and then, once inside, up a very steep hill. My Clarks are sturdy and have good traction, and are sandals so my feet don't sweat in the heat. Other students aren't so lucky. The stones that pave the roads in Urbino can be slippery, and in the heat, it's harder to pay attention. Fortunately for us, the best gelateria in the city is right at the top of that first hill, so we get a reward for our first city climb!

Urbino is a famous little Renaissance city in the Marche region of Italy. Famous for its Ducal Palace (which I should have something to say about tomorrow), it is about half the size of my hometown, Clarence, NY in terms of population. In terms of actual size, it's much, much smaller—the whole center city being contained within the walls. And there isn't much else, I found out today, because you can see almost everything if you climb up to the fortress. There is a great view. 

Urbino, viewed from the park at the fortress. Not bad, huh?

Urbino has a specialty food, we have learned, which is called "una crescia sfogliata. And yesterday, we found the greatest place ever to eat them. They are super cheap, a nice pastry crust wrapped around a center of your choice. Yesterday, I had prosciutto and cheese; today, mozzarella and tomato. The place we've found is just outside the wall at the top end of the city, and I believe that is why it costs almost nothing to eat there (about 4 euros for a crescia with one thing in the center). Their wine is delicious as well, and I had a spritz today. Molto buono, buonissimo!

It was delicious!

Today, I did an unreasonable amount of work in an unreasonably short amount of time. Clearly, the Princeton conditioning has set in, and I am now apparently capable of writing a 3 page essay in a language I just started learning last year in an hour and a half. You see, I'm going to Rome this weekend, and don't want to be bothered with an essay to write. I'm more than happy to read in the bus there and back. 

After our crescia dinner, we got back to Tridente to do our reading, and found out today was Davide's birthday! So, we all headed over to the Caffè degli amici where a cake was waiting for us. Italians and their birthday cakes, let me tell you! A fun night was had by all! 

La torta!

Davide ready to cut the cake...don't worry, he's not actually that scary-looking most of the time!

Luca giving Davide a pink ribbon to wear on his head, since he is the birthday boy!

Davide conducting as we sang him Happy Birthday in Italian and English. (Tanti auguri a te!)

And they brought out the bubbly! 







Saturday, July 6, 2013

Ravenna and San Marino

Today was our group trip to Ravenna and San Marino, and after waking up bright and early to meet at the caffè at 7:40 (even earlier than we have to meet for our classes), the 28 of us students, the 5 TA's, and the professor all loaded into a bus and headed to Ravenna. In case you didn't know (I know I sure didn't), Ravenna was the last capital of the Western Roman Empire. It was chosen for its location, which is very safe because of the water. It is also the site of the world's most impressive mosaics. 

Our first stop was the church of San Apollinaro Nuovo, a beautiful church with twelve columns, a ceiling dating back to 17th century, a floor that has been raised due to sinking floor, and the widest mosaics in the world dating back to the 5th century. Mosaics, we learned today, began as floor art, but in Ravenna in this particular church, the images they wanted to portray (of apostles and Christ and Mary, etc.) were sacred, so they really didn't want people walking on them. Mosaics are made of bits of glass, cut with a tiny little hammer. The colors are natural, and since they are the colors of the glass and not painted, they last forever without being restored. Gold was also widely used in these mosaics, and they way they did that was by sandwiching gold leaf between two pieces of glass. Then, these "tesserae" were assembled to make the pictures, in such a way that there was as much texture as possible, which makes them catch the light in a very remarkable way. These pictures don't do it justice, but here is the church.

The outside of the church. Traditional Christian architecture privileged the inside of the church rather than the outside, as the church is analogous to humans, whose souls are immortal while their bodies will die. The building is made of bricks, because Ravenna like other areas in this region is filled with clay but doesn't have much stone for building. 

First glance at the interior of the church. You see on the left and right the mosaics of the saints (women on the left, men on the right), and above them, you have prophets, and above them, scenes of the life of Jesus Christ. 

Look as much as you want, you won't find a crucifixion scene in this church or others that predate the 5th century. Apparently, these churches prefer having empty crosses symbolizing Christ's suffering, but don't ever depict him on the cross. 

After this church, we went to another one, which is important because Dante is buried there. The church had a name, which I've forgotten already since the guide told us that everyone just calls it "la chiesa di Dante" (Dante's church). This church is sinking, much like the entire city of Venice (apparently it's a pretty common problem), and the alter is actually filled with water. 

There are goldfish swimming in the water, but it's hard to see from the picture. It was a very creepy sensation, looking into this room. The water was incredibly still. 

Behind the church is Dante's tomb. In 1317, this father of the Italian language whose Divine Comedy essentially created the Italian language as we know it today and began popularizing writing in the vulgar, everyday spoken language rather than Latin. In Ravenna, he wrote Paradiso which, according to our guide, was largely inspired by the mosaics. Dante died of malaria in his 50's I believe, in Ravenna, and was buried there. He has a tomb in his hometown of Florence, but it's empty. I got pictures of it, but they're on my actual camera, so I'll have to wait to get home to post them on the blog. 

The piazza of Ravenna is adorned with two columns which were from Venice. Venice was quite powerful back then, and had a lot of influence on Ravenna. This was because of the importance of salt. 


Finally, we saw San Vitale, the most famous church in the city and the little mausoleum behind it, both of which are uninteresting on the outside and spectacular on the inside. San Vitale is the most complete church in Ravenna, in that it is the only church there with its original dimensions. Despite its gigantic size and detailed mosaics, it only took about 22 years to build. Our guide playfully added that nowadays in Italy, you couldn't even get the permission to build it in that time. So, not bad! 

It's octagonal, based on the Byzantine architecture but demonstrating an interesting blend of both sides of the ancient Roman Empire. Central plan, eight-sided building, six meter dome with frescos dating to the 18th century, whereas the rest of the church is much, much older (fourth or fifth...I can't remember exactly). Emperor Justinian organized the project, though he never actually set foot in Ravenna. He's depicted in the mosaics. 

Justinian mosaic, with the assistant who actually did help with the church (Maximianus) depicted prominently. 

This is the inside of the surprisingly beautiful mausoleum behind San Vitale. 

Empty cross instead of a crucifixion. 

Christ is a shepherd. Who knew? Just kidding. This is directly over the entrance to the mausoleum. 

After lunch in Ravenna, we headed back to the bus and drove up a mountain to San Marino. San Marino, like Monaco, is an independent little country within another country. It is apparently the oldest republic in the world that still uses its original constitution, but did I mention it's on a mountain? The views were worth the drive, and all we really did there was have an aperitivo while admiring the Italian countryside from this non-Italian little country. 

The blue all the way at the back is the Adriatic. Yes, we were so high up, we could see it!

Finally, we headed back to Urbino and ate dinner at an adorable family-style restaurant outside of the city. So much food, and now I'm stuffed and ready for bed. Delicious though!

We started with prosciutto, melon, and various cheeses. The rest of the meal was if anything, even better: various pasta dishes for first courses, various meat dishes with sides for the second courses, and cake for dessert. Si mangia bene in Italia! 













Friday, July 5, 2013

Addendum to the last post

Whoever stole my shampoo just returned it. Strange. 

Moments in Tridente

Instead of writing a long post that is carefully structured about a specific topic dealing with life in Urbino, I'm just going to write a few random comments. I'm tired, and have to wake up very early tomorrow to take a trip to Ravenna and San Marino. But hey, studying abroad isn't about having a plan, doing structured and well-thought-out activities; it's about taking in everything around you, from the writing on the dorm room walls to the way Italian girls like to wax their legs at the kitchen table in front of other male and female students. So, here goes... 

1) There is lots of writing on the walls here. At first, I thought it was incredibly trashy to be writing on walls, but I saw it as a learning experience. It's interesting seeing what Italian students feel the need to write on the walls, what they consider to be leaving their mark on this dorm building. It's also helpful to me, because I get to see improper Italian, their abbreviations, etc. Anyway, here are a few examples:


This is the wall in the kitchen. The green at the top says: "The block of the princesses," so I guess I'm a princess! Makes sense, since I did work in a castle back in Paris. The pictures are pasted to the walls, and you can see the writing on various other bricks. 

This is in the block across the hall from mine. Pazzo (the only non-English word in this writing) means crazy. 

EAT! MANGIA! Nani used to say this to me. 

2) Privacy issues: Italians seem to be very public. They don't care what they look like in these public spaces of our block. Girls walk around in bras and underwear, dry/straighten their hair at the kitchen table (which, to be fair, is the only place you can, since the other outlets don't fit those types of plugs), and more. They're loud, boisterous, hilarious, and as long as you're not too concerned about doing work, I suppose they're really great company. If I were doing my PhD here, I doubt it would turn out very well...

An anecdote: yesterday, I was sitting in the kitchen with Anna Maria and Viola. Viola was studying for her English test on Shakespeare and publicity (it was today, by the way, and she got a 25/30!) and asking me to explain the play Titus Andronicus. An Italian guy came in halfway through (I think his name is Francesco, but I can't remember...lots of names in the last few days) and sat down to listen to my telling of the most violent play in theater history. It was a good test of my Italian, since I had to say things like: "They raped her, then cut off her tongue and hands so she couldn't tell anyone who did it...Titus then killed Tamora's sons and cooked them into a pie and fed them to their mother." This whole time, I might add, Anna Maria was waxing her legs. Even with the guy there. And no one seemed to find it strange. At one point, Viola thought it would be a good study tactic to use the phone in the kitchen to call a random person and chat in English. So she says on the phone: "Hello. You speak English? Let's talk about Shakespeare!" Apparently, that is the kind of studying that gets good grades here. 

When Anna Maria was done waxing, a song they liked came on the radio, and they started singing it. Viola took a broom and used it as a microphone, and it was quite the spectacle. I wish I had taken pictures. To paint a better picture, Viola is the tiniest girl you've ever seen. Short, thin, short hair (dark brown), just very small over all. She is really energetic, studies English at the Università d'Urbino but admits that she can barely say anything, and she is from Puglia! So, she's probably related to me. Or knows someone who is. Anyway, she finished her performance and asked if I knew any Italian music. I said I was a major fan of Jovanotti, and so the three of us started singing "A te" in the kitchen. I'm sure the door was open, and everyone in the whole "braccia 2" could probably here us, but it didn't seem to matter at the time. I think I'm becoming one of them, and I might like it...

The close quarters and Italian habits do lead to a lot of notes, though. Here's one: 

REMEMBER to wash what you make dirty. And even if you don't want to do it for YOURSELF do it anyway for the OTHERS. 

Someone left an equally funny note in their bathroom cabinet that said something to the extent of: I can't believe I have to keep buying my own toilet paper because people steal mine all the time. It's ridiculous—they give us free toilet paper every Monday and Friday. I suggest you go to the main desk and get some. 

I thought this note was pretty funny. We have bathroom cabinets, most of which don't lock. And I was just robbed today. Someone stole my shampoo but left my conditioner. I'm actually quite annoyed. I just bought that shampoo, and it's not like it was a particularly good one. Petty theft=Italian from now on for me. I think I will start this stereotype and I won't rest until the entire world believes all Italians are pathetic shampoo thieves the way the entire world believes that all French people are smelly. 

3) Aperitivi: an Italian tradition of finger foods with an alcoholic beverage, to prep you for dinner and/or going out. We had two yesterday. One at the caffè degli amici that Davide and Luca prepared, and another that the Italian students in the dorm organized for us to help celebrate Independence Day. For the first, the professors here woefully misinformed the students. People sat for about an hour before I decided to ask Davide if we could have some of the food. Everyone just assumed they would bring it to us if we ordered drinks. The majority of the students also didn't understand that we had to pay for this. Since we get a free breakfast every morning, I guess they figured being told to come for an aperitivo would be paid for by Rutgers as well. Guess not. 

The one with the Italian students was also fun, and also not free. They had a punch bowl filled with spritz, which made me happy. I love spritz (aperol and prosecco, bright orange cocktail), which I discovered by accident last summer during my two hours in Ventimiglia. I wanted a spremuta (freshly squeezed orange juice) and asked, and the woman told me I was mistaken and wanted a spritz, which she said was "molto buono, buonissimo." I told her I really thought the word was spremuta, the juice with the oranges. She insisted, and I ordered a cocktail instead of orange juice. Boh, vabbè, at least I tried a new drink. 

4) Language progress: 

Two nights ago, I had a little "wine party" with the Tulane girls, played fuze ball (no idea if I'm spelling that right...) with Italians and lost pathetically, helped Viola study English, then went to bed. That night, I dreamed in Italian!!!! I italicized it because it's really cool. I dream in French, especially when I'm in France, but I've never dreamed in Italian before! 

The Tulane girls at our wine party on the roof. 

When I noticed my shampoo was stolen tonight, I found myself thinking in Italian!!! Of course, as with the first time that happened in French, the second I realized it, my brain switched back to English. But at least I know I'm thankfully making the same progress I made in France but significantly faster. Which is good, since I have 6 weeks instead of 6 months this time. 

5) Quest to discover my Italian heritage: 

Step 1: The professor for the second half of my course here is a Rutgers graduate student named Marino. I found out he was from Puglia, near Foggia. I was chatting with him about Foggia, and how my great grandmother was from a little town near there, and he suggested I go there after the program is over! He said he could find us a ride, since he'll be heading there as well. 

Step 2: I ask every Pugliese I meet if they've heard of Accadia. None have. 

Step 3: Last night, in a bar, I meet a Pugliese (a girl Pugliese) named Antonella. Super sweet, super complimentary of my Italian, and she introduced me to a delicious new drink called ruma e pera, which is a shot of rum followed by a shot of pear nectar (no alcohol in that). The cool pear nectar really cancels out the rum, and it was delicious! Anyway, that's off topic. Antonella is from Foggia it seems. And she has heard of Accadia. She said she's heard Accadia is cute, but she said Foggia is the ONLY ugly part of Puglia, which is otherwise the most beautiful part of Italy according to her. 

Step 4: This morning, I met an Italian while waiting for the rest of the group to head to breakfast. He was Pugliese, from near Bari, and he actually has a friend from Accadia. But get this, his friend's last name is FERRO!!! That was Nani's maiden name! His friend could be related to me. Seems probable. I haven't seen him since, and don't remember his name, but I will definitely be on the lookout so I can find out. 

6) Pizza:

Here's a picture of pizza to end this post. Why not?