Entry 7

Perugia

After boldly proclaiming my love of tacos and bemoaning the lack of food variety in Italy in my last travel journal entry, I am happy to say that this week my taco craving was satisfied. Meredith H. spotted a taco kit in the grocery store, and, as you might guess, in practically no time we were on our way home with 24 taco shells, a large jar of salsa, nachos, tomatoes, olives, and 2,000 grams of ground beef. That night, all of us made a delicious Mexican feast. It was heavenly. Unfortunately we could not find any cheese remotely resembling cheddar, so we had to do without or substitute with parmesan. Despite a few minor setbacks, however, it was well worth it. I thought I ought to include this information as a conclusion to last week’s journal.

Continuing the food theme, this weekend we took a group excursion to EuroChocolate, an international chocolate festival. It goes on every year around this time and takes place in Perugia, the capital of our neighboring region, Umbria. Perugia is a beautiful historic city and, even though the weather was overcast and foggy, still had very pretty views from its hilltop location. Up and down the wide streets were chocolate vendors from all over the world, mainly from Europe. Lindt and Toblerone are the only names Americans might recognize, but there were vast amounts of others, too. I was feeling a little disappointed this week because at home the State Fair is going on, and I knew while all my friends would be going I would be missing it. However, EuroChocolate more than made up for it in crowds and calories, and I even got to ride on the Milka ferris wheel.

There were also exhibits about South America and the origins of chocolate. On one of the tables there were pamphlets, both in Italian and Spanish, and I picked up a Spanish one. The man at the table thought I was Italian and told me I could read the Italian pamphlet, if I’d like. I purposefully chose the Spanish pamphlet because I have taken much more of that language. However, since I have been learning Italian, I’ve been getting my languages slightly confused. When I tried to say to the man that I knew Spanish better, it came out as, “Mi espanol è mejor di italiano,” a jumbled mess that doesn’t really make sense in either language. Nevertheless, from the pamphlet I was able to learn a little about chocolate and the history of the cocoa bean. It seems that the best cocoa comes from Chuao, Venezuela. This part of Venezuela has a very particular altitude, temperature, humidity and climate that make its cocoa beans considered the best in the world because of their aroma and special taste. Since early colonization, this Venezuelan product has been in great demand in Europe, American and Asian markets. Before the high demand for oil, cocoa was the principal export of the country and a vital part of its economy. The cocoa bean has also always been a central part of the culture, sometimes having important religious and spiritual values, as well. At the exhibit, I even tasted some primitive Venezuelan cocoa concoctions. Frankly, they were disappointing: far from the smooth, magical deliciousness that is today’s chocolate.

EuroChocolate was a fun way to spend a Saturday, even though there were seas of people swarming the streets. One thing we have discovered about Italians is that they do not like to wait in lines, and you can imagine how difficult it is to make your way through a mass of people who do not like to wait their turn nor consider it rude to cut in front of you. We had to resort to forming a train by holding on to the person in front of us, like a group of elementary school students, to avoid being separated. This became quite tiring after a few hours, but we did come home with several chocolate novelties, including chocolate pasta and a chocolate map of Perugia.

Another exciting aspect of our trip to Perugia was that to get there, we had to ride on a different train. Usually when we travel we have to take an hour long bus ride from Sansepolcro to the larger city of Arezzo, and from there we can take a train to wherever we want to go. However, in Sansepolcro there is a small train that runs to Perugia, and so on Saturday I was able to experience that for the first time. I love trains—it is very peaceful to sit quietly and ride through the countryside, taking in the scenery. Something that surprised me is that whenever you go through tunnels on a train, your ears pop. My science major friend Meredith H. tells me this is because of a theory in physics that has to do with objects in motion creating different amounts of pressure. It is a strange phenomenon, because ear-popping is something you generally expect only on a plane. In any case, I am truly enjoying learning so many different means of traveling that I have never used before.

Until next time, ciao!
Emily

Entry 6: October 12, 2010

Tacos and Tests

Strange though it may seem, I am craving tacos. Not just tacos, however, but any kind of food that is not pizza or that does not have pasta as the main ingredient. In comparison with the United States, Italy is sorely lacking in diversity in food and other areas, as well. How many times have we referred to ourselves as “the melting pot,” a mix of immigrants from all over the globe, somehow blending together to form the American culture? This lack of diversity is not necessarily a bad thing, but when you are used to being able to choose from Italian, Chinese, Thai, Mexican, Indian, endless fast food options or countless other types of cuisine on any given night, it takes some adjusting to the less varied Italian dining experience.
Especially in a small town such as Sansepolcro, there are few restaurant selections. Off the top of my head, I can think of about ten pizzerias inside the walls of the town, and six gelaterias in close proximity to the palazzo. To shake things up a bit, there is also a Chinese restaurant and a Kebab shop. The Kebab shops are small, usually run by immigrants from the Middle East, and seem to be quite popular. We have spotted them in Florence, Venice, Urbino, Assisi, Verona, Bologna, and every other town we have visited. They make very good sandwiches of some sort of mysterious shaved and spiced meat and served with lettuce, tomato and yoghurt sauce. Clearly, America has a great deal of variety because it is represented by people that come from many different countries. Italy, on the other hand, has a very long history and is much more engrained with tradition.

Although we did not travel anywhere, this week was very busy. For our full-semester classes we had midterms, and for Italian I and Art History, which were condensed into half of a semester, we had finals. Every day this week we had either a test, exam, oral presentation, or paper due and some days we had multiple things. After endless studying, sleep deprivation, and much anxiety and stress, it was heavenly to take a nap this afternoon.

Despite the difficulties this week has dished out, I am very thankful I have the opportunity to study here, and I have learned much more in this semester than I did in any of my classes last year. On Friday during my final oral exam in Italian, I was amazed to realize that, after only six weeks here, I am able to hold a (simple) conversation in a language that I had never been exposed to previously. Mi chiamo Emily e ho ventiannove anni. Sono di Wake Forest ma abito a Sansepolcro. (My name is Emily and I am nineteen. I am from Wake Forest but I live in Sansepolcro.) I can understand basic directions, order food, describe people, and also discuss a few other general topics.

I’ve also been learning quite a bit about art, as you probably noticed in my previous journal entries. It is a very special experience to discuss a painting in class, and then go see the painting in person. Not only does it allow you to see and study the painting better, but it also cements the knowledge in your head, because you remember the painting more distinctly when it is associated with a particular museum or other aspects of the experience. In addition to the art history class, I am taking color theory, which has been very interesting, too. So far, I have been introduced to the harder-than-it-looks world of mixing paints and basics aspects of color theory, such as how color coming from a computer screen is different from color we see in physical pigments, and how colors are relative and their proximity to each other effects the way we perceive them.

After doing nothing all week except for sitting in my bedroom and studying, Saturday brought a welcome change when we celebrated the one year anniversary of Meredith College in Sansepolcro. In the morning, we had the opportunity to meet the mayor of Sansepolcro. He welcomed us kindly and warmly said we were an important asset to the town and he is happy to have us. Later in the evening, after much tidying up, sweeping and wall-scrubbing, we opened the palazzo to the entire community for an open house. It was a pleasure to celebrate with the many friends and acquaintances we and Dr. Webb and John Rose have been accumulating here.

Journal Entry 5: October 5, 2010

A Titanic Experience

This weekend marked the beginning of my independent travel adventures. My roommate Meredith and I went to beautiful Venice, which was, of course, very exciting. However, another exciting aspect of our trip was that, apart from some helpful advice from Dr. Webb, we planned the trip ourselves. It was the first time I had ever found a hotel on my own, and the very first time I had ever been on an overnight trip without an “adult.” From Friday to Sunday, we managed successfully to catch four buses, five trains, and countless vaporetti (the aquatic bus system of Venice). That is an accomplishment considering, that until a month ago, we had never used public transportation.

Not surprisingly, our weekend excursion was not without a few glitches, but these served only to give us better experience and a few stories to look back on and laugh at. When we arrived in Venice, we had a hotel reservation for Friday night, but not for Saturday night. We contacted several places ahead of time but all were full, so we headed to Venice in hopes that our Friday hotel would have a cancellation for the next night. When this plan failed, we picked up a hotel book from the tourist office and spent an hour in Piazza San Marco on Saturday morning making phone calls. By the 40th call, Meredith and I felt as if we were rehearsing a script:

Hotel Person: Buon Giorno! [Italian words I didn’t understand]
Me: Ciao! Parla inglese?
Hotel Person: Si, a little.
Me: I am looking for a double room for tonight. Do you have any available?
Hotel Person: No, I’m sorry madam, we are all full.

Thankfully, we eventually found a hotel on the Lido, a long island about a 30 minute vaporetto ride from the main island of Venice. We were not sure what we would find when we arrived, since we chose the hotel without having any information about it except the name. However, it turned out to be beautiful and even nicer than our hotel on Friday, which was the same price but somewhat dirty, smelly, and left much to be desired. Our slightly stressful ordeal of finding a last-minute hotel turned into an evening spent in a lovely, immaculate room eating the most delicious pizza and pastries and watching Shrek 3 in Italian before bed.

Once all our travel plans were settled, Meredith and I were able to enjoy exploring Venice. First we visited the island of Murano, which is famous for its glass. The glass makers’ kilns started many fires, and so in 1292 the glass artisans were forced to leave the main island of Venice and relocate to Murano. At the Museo Vetrario there were many glass exhibits, some from as far back as the first century A.D. The large collection from that time period contained very practical objects, such as cups or vases, and, although of a more simple design and cloudier glass, they were incredibly delicate and well formed. It is astounding to think that civilizations so ancient had the ability to create objects so beautiful and refined, and it is even more astounding that the fragile glass relics have survived for thousands of years. The museum exhibits are displayed chronologically, and as we walked into later centuries, eventually arriving at the 20th, it was very interesting to see the progression of using glass making as an artistic medium, rather than solely as a means of forming practical objects. Some of the pieces were like three-dimensional brightly colored paintings, and truly mind-boggling to look at. Actually, many of the pieces were glass interpretations of works by other artists, such as Picasso. In fact, there was even a glass version of Michelangelo’s Pietà.

Later, we stumbled upon a free glass-making demonstration. The demonstrator made creating a delicate piece of art look easier than breathing. He pulled a red hot blob out of the fire on a long metal rod and with another metal tool poked it here, pulled it there, twirled it around and in about a minute, held up a nearly cooled rearing horse. After that, Meredith and I wandered down little streets until we ended up in a truly Italian area of Murano, without any tourists in view. We sat down at a café where we lunched on mortadella sandwiches (a type of meat that comes from Bologna) with the locals. Before we left the island, we browsed in more glass stores than I could count until we found some good buys and a few Christmas presents. My favorite purchase is a pair of earrings made of pink Murano glass with sparkling gold swirls.

We spent the rest of the day in Venice proper. It truly is a gorgeous city, far more so than I anticipated. The effortlessly arched bridges, elegant statues and architecture, and rosy pink houses against the sea green water form a superfluously romantic setting. Aside from pushing, shoving tourists, Venice is very quiet and serene, I think because of the absence of cars and other noisy disturbances. Meredith and I thought about taking the iconic gondola ride, but decided against it. For one thing, it is expensive; for another, I don’t think sitting in a romantic gondola looking into Meredith’s eyes would be quite the same as looking into my boyfriend Curtis’. One evening we sat in Piazza San Marco, a large square surrounded by the Doge’s Palace, the Basilica of San Marco, and other beautiful buildings that are lit up at night. It is lined with cafés, which have musicians playing swooning melodies. The Piazza is also filled with couples who sit and stare into each other’s eyes as the music swirls around them, or dance together, or simply walk slowly and hold hands. The entire scene is so picturesque it is dripping with melodrama. It was almost reminiscent of the scene in the movie Titanic when the boat is sinking, teary farewells are being made, and in the midst of it all the string quartet is playing touching songs to the last.

I think part of the reason Venice is so romanticized is because it is mainly a tourist town—a show put on—but not so much lived in by “real” people. Venice has a long history with lots of ups and downs—literally. Venice is sinking, and floods many times a year. In fact, while I was walking around I saw what appeared to be stacked benches or tables, but what were actually the “sidewalks” Venetians use when there is too much flooding to walk on the ground. In 1966 there was a particularly bad flood, and since that year Venice’s population has shrunk from 150,000 to around 65,000. The flooding along with the fact that everything on an island is more expensive makes living in the famous city very difficult.

Venice truly is a one-of-a-kind city. It first became populated after the fall of the Roman Empire, when the Lombards invaded, forcing some people in Northern Italy onto Venice. Eventually, the Venetians governed themselves by electing a doge, or duke. Because the island of Venice is isolated and easy to defend, this is where the doge built his palace. Over time, other nobles wanted to build their palaces near the doge’s, and so Venice became populated with the wealthy. Its strategic location made it the dominant trade center, and in the Renaissance it was one of the biggest and most important city-states in Italy. Unlike other regions of Italy with land-based feudal systems, Venice’s unique situation created a merchant-based nobility. Even before the 12th century, bridges and canals appeared as a means of connecting the nobles living on the many different islands of Venice. Eventually Venice began to lose its political, military and trade power, but still remained popular through the 18th and 19th centuries as a tourist destination for the wealthy.

Going to Venice was a unique experience for me, one that probably will not be matched since it is completely unlike any other city. Sitting on the back of a vaporetto at night while gliding through the quiet water past ancient candle-lit buildings and pulling up to the steps of cathedrals was a beautiful and ethereal experience. I can’t wait to go back.

Entry 4: September 28, 2010

Piero della Francesca

One of the artists our art history class has studied a great deal is, not surprisingly, Piero della Francesca, who was born here in Sansepolcro. So far we have been to the Museo Civico down the street to see his Resurrection of Christ, as well as Madonna della Misericordia. A week or two ago we took a class trip to Arezzo to see his multiple frescoes depicting the Legend of the True Cross, including The Annunciation, in the apse of the Basilica of San Francesco. We also were able to see what is probably his most famous work, his portraits of Battista Sforza and Federico da Montefeltro, in the Uffizi Gallery in Florence. Then this past weekend, we went on a day trip to Urbino, where we visited the Ducal Palace of Federico da Montefeltro (the man in the portrait with the funny nose). Here we saw even more works by Piero, Madonna con Bambino and Flagellazione. It has been very intriguing, studying art in person as we are learning about it. Art history is combined into an intense half-semester class, and I will be very, very sad next week when it ends.

Although it is nearly impossible to pick a favorite, I think I most enjoyed seeing The Legend of the True Cross frescoes in Arezzo. They are a series of frescoes in the front of the Church of Saint Francis which show a popular legend during the Renaissance. The basic story goes that, after Adam died, his son Seth took a seedling from the Tree of Good and Evil and planted it in his mouth. The tree that grew from it went through a long, complicated history of being cut down, used, and hidden until finally it was used to form the cross Jesus was crucified on. After Christ, the cross was lost, sought after, finally found, tested, and found to have miraculous qualities. Piero’s frescoes depict this story in many, many different scenes which are spread up, down and all around the front of the Church of Saint Francis. The frescoes of the story are not laid out linearly, but scattered from one wall to another, back and forth. Standing in the center and looking up at the beautiful artwork in every direction is an experience looking at pictures of the individual scenes does not allow. There is definitely much to be gained from visiting artwork in person. Had we only looked at pictures of these in a book, we might have missed a lot. For example, while standing in the church, Professor Banker pointed out to us that the lighting in the paintings (with the exception of one done by an apprentice) follows the natural lighting in the room, something all good Renaissance artists strived to achieve. The most famous of these scenes are The Annunciation, where Gabriel announces to Mary that God has chosen her to be the mother of His Son, and also The Queen of Sheba, where the Queen comes to visit King Solomon.

In Urbino we saw the palace of Federico da Montefeltro, the man in the famous portrait done by Piero that you have probably seen before. He was a very powerful duke and extremely wealthy. In fact, he earned more money every year than was in the Medici bank. After walking through the Ducal Palace I gathered that he might also have been slightly egotistical, because everywhere—on the walls and ceilings—were symbols representing Federico and his power, such as the eagle. In the palace we were able to look at the Flagellation of Christ, by Piero. It is a very interesting painting because it has two groups of men whose identities remain a mystery. One of them reappears in several of Piero’s paintings, and some scholars argue that he was a prominent lawyer at the time and a relation of Piero. The painting also shows how well Piero could use linear perspective—the idea that lines in a painting converge at some point in the distance. In addition to being a talented painter, Piero was also a brilliant mathematician. He rediscovered several mathematical concepts that had not been used since ancient Greece, and could expertly calculate lines and ratios in his compositions.

I Vestiti

In the past few weeks there has been so much happening that I have not been able to squeeze anything about fashion into my journal until now. One of the first things I noticed when we arrived was the differences in the way people dress, especially the men. Many Italian men are not afraid to dress boldly, and often sport brightly colored pants in purple, red, teal, gold, deep rose, or orange, as well as a variety of striped or patterned shirts. Both men and women tend to wear over-the-shoulder bags, as well as sweaters, which are generally tied around the shoulders. Also, it seems that women like to wear pants with a plethora of pockets, almost cargo-style. There are also fewer people who walk out of the house in sweats and tennis shoes, or dressed sloppily as if they just rolled out of bed. Italians aren’t all perfect pictures of fashion, but in general they always seem to look presentable at least.

Buon Appetito!

Before I came to Italy, I thought the idea of Italians eating mounds of pasta and pizza was just a myth, a stereotype. It’s not. Since I have been here, I have eaten pizza and/or pasta every day. That being said, it is delicious and greatly varied, and I don’t think I have had the same type of pasta more than twice in the month I’ve spent here. There are also many different types of pizza. So far, the strangest pizza I’ve ordered was carrot pizza, and my favorite toppings are prosciutto and artichoke.

Margarita cooks gorgeous lunches for us during the week, and I am afraid I am getting very spoiled. Somehow I don’t think I will be able to get salad, soup, bread, pasta, a meat, vegetables, dessert and other dishes for lunch when I come back home. Surprisingly, my favorite parts of our lunches are the vegetables. Who knew there were dozens of ways to cook zucchini, all equally delicious? Or that caramelized onions were so irresistible? Or that eggplant tastes good in contexts other than eggplant parmesan?

Another important part of the Italian diet is coffee. Cafés never cease to have droves of people buzzing in and out, downing espressos. I used not to like coffee, but now I drink it every day. It is impossible to resist getting a cappuccino or latte when they only cost one euro and from my bedroom window I can see the café sitting on the street, calling my name.

Entry 3: September 21, 2010

Firenze

Friday morning it happened—an event I looked forward to and anticipated since this summer. We went to Florence (or Firenze, as Italians say). I could scarcely contain my excitement at the thought of visiting a hefty chunk of the world’s famous art, and I could barely hide my nervous anticipation at the thought of traveling in a big city on my own. Happily, the art was better than even I in my blissful enthusiasm imagined, and the traveling was easier than my anxious mind thought possible.

As part of our Learn to Travel class we were required to read about Florence and make preparations for the trip, although the extent of our planning was left up to us. At first I thought I would leave Florence having seen only half of what I wanted to, simply because there is so much to see. However, I was pleasantly surprised by the amount of activities we were able to squeeze into two and a half days, mainly because of our copious preparations. In total, I visited:

• The Uffizi Gallery, which houses the largest collection of Renaissance paintings in the world,
  
• The Accademia, home to Michelangelo’s David and Prisoners sculptures,
  
• The Bargello, which has many sculptures, including Donatello’s sassy David,
  
• The Duomo of Santa Maria del Fiore, tallest building in Florence and an icon of Renaissance architecture,
  
• The Medici Chapels, the Medici tombs carved by Michelangelo,
  
• The Archeology museum, which has a large Egyptian exhibit and several mummies,
  
• The Modern Art exhibit in the Pitti Palace, former home of the Medici family, as well as
  
• Piazzale Michelangelo, a hill on the outside of the city with beautiful views.

All of these were wonderful experiences, but my favorite by far was the Uffizi Gallery. Standing a foot away from Botticelli’s Birth of Venus, Primavera, Madonnas, and Pallas and the Centaur, I found the experience otherworldly and it left me spell-bound. It was a feeling impossible to achieve by looking at the paintings in a book. In The Birth of Venus I was captivated by its magnificent size and by Botticelli’s delicate use of shiny gold detailing in Venus’ hair, in the Wind’s wings, in the flowers suspended in the air. My Uffizi guidebook noted that though Venus is very beautiful, Botticelli painted her innocently, not sensually. He also thought that God could be honored through the manifestations of beauty in His creation.

Botticelli did paint beautifully. In art history, we have been discussing different cultural influences in artists’ works. One thing Botticelli was influenced by was dance, as is evidenced by the way he grouped his graceful figures. His figures’ faces also draw the viewer in. I could stare into the sweet, serene eyes of his Venus, Pallas, or Madonnas all day.

Michelangelo’s David in the Accademia was breathtaking, as well. His sheer size is stunning and it is difficult to imagine the effort used to create this vision of strength and beauty from a piece of rock. It’s funny that David ended up being a masterpiece, because originally the marble block Michelangelo carved him from was rejected by other sculptors because it was flawed and too poor to use. But Michelangelo believed God placed the beautiful figures into the marble already, and the sculptor’s job was to reveal it. This way of thinking is clear in his other statues in the Accademia, the Prisoners, a series of people who seem to stretch and pull themselves from the unfinished marble blocks that hold them captive.

In addition to the many aspects of art we studied while in Florence, another purpose of our trip was to learn the basics of using public transportation. It was the first time I had ever ridden a “real” bus and train, and I was quite nervous about it. Thankfully, Dr. Webb gave us thorough instructions and we managed to get around very well, both within the city and from Florence back to Sansepolcro. The bus drivers were very helpful and always told us when to get off if we weren’t sure of our stop, and the people we asked for directions always gave them graciously and were not agitated by our sometimes pathetic attempts at speaking Italian. Now, although I might not know everything there is to know about catching a train or finding the correct bus stop, I feel much more confident in my ability to figure it out or at least find the right people to ask.

Despite the many glories of Florence, I was very glad to return to the palazzo in Sansepolcro Sunday night. Florence is, obviously, a big city, with many tourists, lots of noise, and tons of hustling and bustling. While there, at times I caught myself feeling almost annoyed with the swarms of tourists there and with how the city catered to them, writing more things in English than in Italian it seemed. I think I met more Americans during a weekend in Florence than I have during a weekend in America. In three short weeks I have grown very attached to Sansepolcro and am exceedingly grateful to call it my home.

Textures

Speaking of all this art, one thing that has been inspiring me artistically is the variety of textures present everywhere. Although there are many, many different textures in the U.S., there is still a tendency towards perfectly straight, clean-cut lines, pure white houses with uniform black shutters, neighborhoods with matching mailboxes, and smooth, flat blacktop streets. When I walk down the street in Sansepolcro, I begin my journey treading on a stone tile-like street, eventually encounter classic cobblestone, sometimes run into bumpy rock paths, or sometimes meet rustic steps, of which there are no two alike. None of the buildings have smooth vinyl siding. Instead, they are covered by creamy yellow- or rose-colored plaster, which peels off in grungy patches, revealing the gray walls beneath. Some walls are made of bricks, some of stones, some of large slabs of rock. Even the roofs are highly textured; it is a mystery to me how crumbly terracotta relics can keep rain from leaking down inside, yet they seem to work well enough.

Some of these textures may seem like small details, and of course they are. But however subtle, the many textures of the streets serve as a backdrop for Italian life—a blending of vecchio and nuovo, a mixture of preserving the past and living in the present. I hope to continue discovering and relishing new textures and to incorporate them into my own art this semester. As of yet I have only observed and photographed them, but before long my art projects may begin to be very texturally influenced.

Entry 2: September 14, 2010

Palio della Balestra

Approaching week three here in Sansepolcro, I am settled in and beginning to feel at home. One thing that hastened my endearment to the town was being able to attend and participate in Palio della Balestra, a festival held every year in September. “Balestra” means “crossbow,” and the Palio is an ancient competition, dating back to at least 1594, if not earlier. There have been various events taking place since last weekend, finally climaxing Sunday at the crossbow tournament with our Umbrian archrivals, the town of Gubbio.

Balestra week began last Saturday. In the morning there was a market with many Renaissance-garbed people selling goods such as handmade paper and handspun yarn, pastries, flower wreaths, and other things. That evening, there was a long processional through the town and into the main piazza, or town square. All the Meredith students were invited to participate in it, a very special honor that I was extremely excited about. That evening we met in the street dressed in our pretty pink, teal, red, cream, green, and navy medieval gowns. We paraded through the streets and into the piazza, taking our front row seats. It was a lovely evening and included performances by a fire juggler, dancers, a vocalist, people on stilts, and also Sansepolcro’s famous flag wavers. By the end of the evening, I was a bit cold and tired of sitting up straight like a Renaissance lady, but also thrilled that I, an American student, had the opportunity to experience being in a local Italian festival like this.

On Wednesday Balestra week continued with a crossbow competition between Sansepolcran teams. Most Italian cities have several gates; one faces Florence, and another faces Rome. It was these two sides of the city—Porta Romana and Porta Fiorentina—that competed against each other for the chance to represent Sansepolcro in the big Palio against Gubbio. We cheered for Porta Fiorentina but, sadly, lost. That night, men in colorful tights and ladies in long flowy gowns and donut-shaped headdresses marched through the city, the band playing drums loudly and some singing “Porta Romana! Porta Romana!” Then on Saturday evening there was another event, mainly featuring the flag wavers. Several of us were asked to dress up for it again, and so we wore primavera dresses and flowers. This time it was rather disappointing because, though we processed around the piazza twice, we then had to walk back out, and were not able to see the performance.

However, any disappointments from Saturday night were forgotten on Sunday, when we were able to watch the Palio between Sansepolcro and Gubbio from our stadium seats in the afternoon daylight. Lines and lines of women walked in wearing elegant dresses and their hair in strange yet beautiful concoctions. Men wearing brightly colored caped tunics and tights marched in, too. Some were playing drums or horns, others were flag wavers, and others were part of the crossbow teams. There were many, many more people than I expected to see, both participating in the Palio and watching it. The piazza was completely filled with crossbow shooters, medieval damsels, drummers, trumpeters, and flag wavers. The seats surrounding it were also full, and there was quite a crowd of people pressed up against the barriers in the streets, trying their best to sneak a peek.

Before any crossbow shooting began, the flag wavers came out and performed the same routines I missed seeing Saturday night. It is truly a treat to watch them. Not only can they twirl their flags around in perfect synchronization, but they also throw them in the air and to each other, and always manage to catch them in perfect timing. Sometimes they stand in a circular formation and throw their flags to the person across from them, so the flags crisscross in the air. There were some routines involving dozens of people, and also some solos. At one point one man was twirling and juggling three flags simultaneously, using his hands, arms, feet, and legs. At first the flag twirling seemed strange to me, because in America no man would be caught dead prancing around in hot pink and bright green tights, twirling a flag around his head. Here, however, it is a cherished tradition, one that boys begin when they are very young, and continue until they are parents and even grandparents. In the Palio there was a small boy—I later learned he was four years old—who stood proudly in the square and twirled a solo. It ended with him throwing his flag gallantly into the air, but not quite managing to catch it. He was precious.

After the flag wavers finished, then came the part we were all waiting for—the crossbow shooting. The first man approached the stand, rested his crossbow on it and eyed the target. He fired, sending his arrow swooshing through the air and hitting the target with a thwap. It was almost perfectly centered and the crowd cheered. Man, after man, after man proceeded to follow suit until the target was so full of arrows there was no more room on it. I thought they were finished, or at least would get a new target, but no—they continued firing for at least fifteen more minutes. Finally, when the target was so full that arrows were falling out and it looked like a bouquet, they stopped. Several official-looking people took away the target and, in a mysterious process that no one seemed to understand, judged who the winner was. After a lengthy wait, the target was brought back out, this time with a single arrow in the center. Much to our delight, Sansepolcro was the victor! As the audience clapped passionately and the Sansepolcran team members congratulated each other, I began to feel pride that this was my home, albeit a temporary one.

Il Conto, Per Favore

Now that I have been here for a couple of weeks, I am beginning to notice some of the less obvious cultural differences between Italy and the United States. One of these is the difference in customer service. In the U.S. when you go to a restaurant, the waiter visits your table every few minutes to see if you need ketchup, to make sure you have enough refills, and just generally to make sure you are enjoying your meal. Although they would never say this to a customer, part of the reason behind this is for the restaurant to herd as many people through as it can so it makes as much money as possible. In Italy, servers have a completely different attitude and approach. When you purchase anything, even a shot of 1 euro espresso, you have also purchased your table, and may stay there as long as you like. There have been many times where I’ve spent hours sitting at a café for the price of a cappuccino and was never disturbed, not even to clear my cup. It is a pleasantly refreshing way to spend an afternoon.

A few nights ago, Meredith H., Meredith C., Patsy and I went to a new restaurant to get pizza. Our waitress took our order and brought us our food, but left us on our own after that. We might have sat there all evening if we had not eventually waved her down and asked for the bill: Il conto, per favore. On Sunday there was another incident I found rather humorous. Meredith H. and I were desperately in need of a non-pasta/pizza meal and headed to a nearby kebab restaurant. When we approached the entrance, the two men who worked there were sitting outside enjoying a cigarette. We exchanged buonaseras and walked through the door, expecting them to follow. To our surprise, they did not budge, but merely turned their heads and asked if we minded waiting while they finished their smoke. After five or ten minutes, they got up and proceeded to make our sandwiches. Although we were a little taken aback by this at first, we honestly did not mind waiting and enjoyed talking to them.

These are just two examples of the ways people in Italy tend to be more relaxed than in the United States, where we always seem to be rushing from one thing to another. Since I’ve been here, I have felt less stressed and more at ease, even with a full course load, travel plans, and countless other things to attend to. I hope in the future—even when I finish my studies here and return home—I will carry this attitude with me, and always make time to appreciate and enjoy life.

Entry 1: September 7, 2010

Falling in Love

So far Italy is beautiful! Before I left I looked through countless pictures from travel guides and friends who have been here. They were gorgeous and I studied them in awe. However, there is simply no comparison between them and the real thing. After we flew into Rome, we had to take a four-hour bus ride to Sansepolcro. The ride was very scenic and I clung to the window the entire time to take in the sun-kissed hills, the remnants of summer sunflower fields, and the rows of grapes and olive trees scattered everywhere. Towards the end of our journey we drove past handsome ancient buildings and then we approached the most enchanting street I’ve ever seen. As I was staring wide-eyed at the tall Renaissance homes on either side of it and its cracked and crumbly cobblestone lining, to my surprise, we stopped. This was it. This street was my street.

Sansepolcro is truly a lovely town. All of its buildings have rosy and yellowed plaster walls and seemingly ancient terracotta roofs. Many shops line the main street and there are so many pizzerias and gelaterias you can nearly see one while standing at another. As we learned in one of our classes today, Sansepolcro was founded in the eleventh century when two men carrying relics from Christ’s tomb came from the Holy Land, according to legend. It was a Roman settlement, and during the Renaissance it became part of the Kingdom of Tuscany. This helps explain why Sansepolcrans are so strongly loyal to Tuscany, even though the city is on the border of another region, Umbria. Italian loyalties to regions are somewhat akin to American loyalties to our states. (And North Carolina is, without doubt, the best.)

My room is above a pizzeria on the main street so it can be a little noisy. Italians walk almost everywhere, all the time, and there are always people outside talking. It is really very pleasant. Some of the other girls and I have been surprised by how late everyone stays out, especially the children. Last night I was at a cafe until 11:30 or 12:00 and even at that time there were parents with toddlers and little kids walking around. They have a completely different schedule than we do in the States, where parents never like to stay out late with their children. Here we usually have a nice big, long lunch, sometimes followed by a nap. All the little shops are closed from 1-4 for this reason, then they reopen and people stay out late, especially on the weekends.

Sansepolcro is also the birthplace of Renaissance artist Piero della Francesca. You might be familiar with his Baptism of Christ or Resurrection. The latter painting is in a museum here in Sansepolcro. I haven't actually been to it yet but the other day I did squish my nose against the window and see it on the wall. On Wednesday my art history class is going to the museum as part of our lecture. It feels very strange to be this close to things that I've read about in my art history book!

While I'm here the art history class I am taking will be focusing on Italian Renaissance art and artists, and I am extremely excited about that. I'm also taking Color Theory, Italy Today, Learn to Travel, and Italian. The next couple of weeks our Italian class is very intensive. I'm extremely thankful for that because right now not knowing any Italian is problematic at times.

One of these times was Sunday, when Meredith and I decided to go to a local supermarket called the Coop, a mile or two away. We just recently got our bikes fixed up and wanted to take them for a maiden voyage. Although we were at the Coop a few days ago with Dr. Webb and John Rose, we couldn’t remember where it was and so enthusiastically set off in the wrong direction. Eventually we stopped and asked an elderly lady for directions in our very poor Italian. She explained—completely in Italian—where the Coop was and we were quite proud of ourselves that we were able to understand. However, she kept saying something about domenica. Nevertheless we headed towards the Coop, braving Italian traffic and weaving through pedestrians, finally arriving at our destination. Only when we saw the doors were shut and the lights were off did we realize that domenica is the word for Sunday, and the lady must have been trying to tell us that the Coop is closed Sundays, as almost all Italian stores are. We were disappointed but still proud that we had interpreted at least part of what she had told us. We ended the day happily—with a gelato, of course.

Starting this past weekend and continuing for the rest of the week there is a very special festival taking place here in Sansepolcro. I am looking forward to observing and participating in it, and will be writing about it in more detail in my next entry. Until then, I will be very busy with my classes seeing and reading about art, studying Italian culture, and memorizing as many Italian words as my brain can squeeze in. Arrivederci!