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)!