Welcome to Switzerland- Try the Fondue!

This last weekend was my first time leaving the country for a weekend trip. Boarding the train on Friday morning, I was set for a six and a half hour journey to Lausanne, right on the shores of Lake Geneva. I had the privilege of staying with a family this past weekend who treated me like royalty. Because of their hospitality, I likely gained about four pounds in cheese and swiss bread alone. Though the weather would ruin the majority of our plans, they still made the weekend very memorable.





Shortly after arriving in Lausanne, we were on the highway to the ski village of Leysin. Situated on the "sunny side of the alps," Leysin has been dubbed "Oxygien des Alpes" because of the pure air that so many have sought out. Ironically, I wouldn't experience either of these catchphrases. With constant rain and fog, I never saw the sun. I also caught a really bad cold while there. Some are cured of their respiratory ailments from a weekend in Leysin. Others, like me, catch the ones that they lose.
But the weekend was far from a loss.

That night, we went to a traditional swiss restaurant. Though everyone in the family ordered pizza, they suggested that I order "roestis," or a swiss traditional recipe of hash browns and cheese. The goat cheese, served fried and heavily seasoned, quickly melts all over the vegetables and hash browns, forming a delightful dinner for anyone from the state of Wisconsin.



The next day I slept much later than I intended. The altitude, which approaches 2,000 meters at the top of the ski hill, causes those of us from lower altitudes to fall in to long, deep sleeps. When I woke up, there was a gourmet brunch set out for us- including traditional swiss breads and sausages. While comparisons on cultural superiority are generally biased, I think everyone would agree that the Swiss are far better than the Italians when it comes to breakfasts.





We eventually arrived at the slopes, where I baffled the rental staff with my enormous feet. Eventually they managed to find a boot size that fit. I was handed a pair of the nicest skis I've ever used. Though I forgot the brand, their shape and feel were indicative of something that nobody from Wisconsin would ever use to ski at Waupaca's "Nordic Mountain." Though the weather was not cooperating (heavy rain, wind and fog) the runs remained open. I was given a tour of the mountain, on which we passed igloos, rotating restaurants, lakes, buried houses, beware of avalanche signs, and an enormous glacier in the distance. As we skiied past the enormous glacier, I was reminded of a tour I gave to a group of 4th grade fundamentalists- whose teacher kindly reminded me not to mention glaciers, as they didn't believe in them. I have to admit, I was skeptical about the existence of glaciers from that day on. But now that I have skiied besides one- I think I have to affirm their existence as all too real.





I found it interesting that the trails did not have names. Instead, they had a number and an arrow pointing to one of the three towns that are accessible from the mountain. This means that one trail takes up to fifteen minutes to complete, more if you stop to take pictures, or in my case, stop to take an embarrasing fall every few runs.

In the end, the "temps du merd" could not detract from the natural beauty of the alps. We finished the day with a dinner at "Le Fromagerie," a traditional swiss fondue restaurant. I committed the mortal sin of dropping a piece of bread in to the cheese- as a result, I was forced to "run" 3 laps around the restaurant. I also learned that whoever drops their food in the fondue pot automatically picks up the check- harsh rule when you're with 8 other people (they waved this statute for me, citing my Americanness).

The next day featured more bad weather, but more great food. After another brunch of swiss bakery goods, we descended the slopes via car and returned to Lausanne (because of the altitude change and my cold, I would not be able to hear for the remainder of the trip). Lausanne is home to the International Olympic Movement, and the Olympic Museum. A perfect rainy day activity for the avid sports fan, and a nice change of pace from the Uffizi. It was like being in a cosmopolitan Packer hall of fame.

Though the weather was bad, the Badgers lost, I only got to ski for a few hours- I had one of the best weekends of my semester. In 30 some days, I will be returning to Lausanne to see more of the beautiful sights that Switzerland has to offer.



MOVIE RECOMMENDATION: "Cinema Paradiso", a 1988 Italian film directed by Giuseppe Tornatore. Definitely has moved onto my list of all time favorites. A must watch for.... people.

Teaching the Italians about Marching Band, and other stories...

Tuesday morning was another trip to la scuola mediale for another lesson about American culture. The teacher had asked us to prepare a lesson about American sports. Since I know a thing or two about American sports, this lesson was no problem for me. We began the lesson by talking about college sports. Danielle, my co-teacher (a student at the University of M*ch*gan) began by talking about traditions at the Big House. Not surprisingly, later that day our history professor would compare the University of Michigan traditions to a fascist rally.

Then it was my turn to talk. I told the students about marching bands- a completely foreign (literally) concept in Italy. I even played the video from halftime at the Champs Sports Bowl. They were clearly impressed- but they were wondering why so many trombone ranks just aren't that good (they specifically mentioned 3, 6, 21, and 23) :)

Next we talked about the NCAA tournament- and how Americans skip work to watch basketball. They were amused by our addiction to gambling on the NCAA tournament. I'm so proud to be an American. Other topics covered in yesterday's lesson included 1) Why everybody hates the New York Yankees (they're the FC Juventus of baseball). 2) Why the Brewers logo is so creative, and 3) Why the University of Wisconsin is always better at basketball than the University of Michigan.

That night, my conversation partner stopped by the Villa. The night was divided into 2 conversation topics (we don't pick these ahead of time, fyi). First, we talked about skiing, and brands of skiis, and how Italy used to be the best skiing country in the world. For the next half hour, we talked about the great dividing issue in America, healthcare. Though I have kept my blog surprisingly apolitical thus far, I will say that he was shocked that a country as big and powerful as the United States left so many of its citizens uninsured. As an Italian doctor, it is his belief that the American health care system will have to change, or the entire country will go down. Well said.

Back to the world of Bracketology and studying for Italian. Booked tickets to go skiing in Switzerland over the weekend- skiing and March Madness- an even better combination than nutella and peanut butter.

Monte Vesuvio! (or, Ryan Vs. The Volcano!)

Sunday had been set aside all weekend for an afternoon at Mount Vesuvius. When we arrived at the Pompeii train station, we assumed that everything would run smoothly- we would wait 10-15 minutes and be up at the volcano by noon. But in Italy, when you rely on public transportation as your only means of conveyance, something inevitably will go wrong.

After purchasing a 9 euro ticket for a ride to the summit, we waited for the bus. And waited some more. And some more. Now, this whole time we were waiting, taxi drivers kept approaching us and telling us to ride with them to the crater. Since we had already purchased our bus tickets, we refused a ride each time. Finally, we had been waiting for an hour and a half, when the bus arrived! Except, it wasn't our bus- it was a bus to Salerno.

Clearly sensing our frustration, a smooth talking cab driver named Sento approached us. And he made us a bargain that was too good to refuse. Since the buses clearly weren't running, he would take our tickets as the cab fare (which actually is a much better deal for us). Apparently, he was friends with the train station employees and could refund the price- something we were not allowed to do. So we hopped in his cab and up the hill we went. Now, Sento is a very funny man. He kept calling me "Bryan" in a very strong Italian accent. The most memorable line of the morning came when I was trying to negotiate to make sure he wouldn't scam us at the end- he replied, "Brryyaaan, why you no trust me? Look ata my face-a. It is-a rich-a face-a. I woulda steal 1 milliona euroa froma you, but nota 10 euroa. That means nothing to me." Good thing I had left my million euro stash back at the Villa.

Up the mountain, Seto gave us a first-rate tour, pointing out lava flows, ancient statues, monuments to the victims of Vesuvius, German backpackers, touristy restaurants, and points of interest in the scenery (including the island of Capri, which really does resemble an alligator from a distance). He found out that we were studying Italian- so he mixed English with a smattering of Italian phrases. By the end of the ride, abbiamo parlato solo in italiano.

We had exactly one hour to explore the crater of the volcano. The hike to the crater, which was said by Rick Steeves to take at least 30 minutes, took our young (but tired) legs a mere 12 minutes. This meant we had extra time to savor the view of the Bay of Naples as well as the enormous crater below us.

Jimmy Buffet, in his infinite wisdom and poetic mastery, once wrote "I don't know where I'm-a-gonna go when the volcano blows." I don't know where he's going. I probably wouldn't know either. But I know that when the volcano is not blowing, I definitely recommend making the trek to Vesuvius- for the views, for the jokes about taking the ring of power to Mordor, for the snowballs, for the rocks that you steal for your friends back at home. There was no better way to end the weekend.

PICTURES TO COME LATER

LOST: The Amalfi Coast

Saturday began with a gut-wrenching ride up steep grades and around hairpin turns, through the most spectacular coastal scenery in all of Italy. Though everyone in the bus was getting nauseous, it was impossible not to appreciate the sight of Mt. Vesuvius and the Bay of Naples, or the island of Capri off the shores of Positano. With cliffs rising up to 700 meters from the sea, the views simply could not have been any better.

Following a tip from a Lonely Planet guidebook, we decided to attempt to hike "Il Sentiero degli Dei", or "The Path of the Gods." Billed by the book as the most beautiful walk in Italy, the hike was said to be a 5 and a half hour hike through well marked terrain. Not exactly.

After one and a half hours of climbing nothing but stairs, our fried legs finally reached the village of Nocello, a town of a few hundred people and a popular destination for Bed and Breakfasters. Still unable to find the actual path, I stopped several times to ask for directions. Though I understood their Italian, nobody seemed to have an exact of idea of where this path actually was. Finally, we reached a trail. Though it wasn't marked the "Path of the Gods," at least it was a trail. And I can't imagine the views being better elsewhere.






After roughly 6 hours of hiking, we simply didn't know where we were. A Boy Scout once said "Be Prepared." Smart fella. We weren't. Without a map of the region, a compass, or a pocket knife, we were getting lost. And with a diminishing food supplies (approximately 2 special K bars and a kinderbueno), we were racing to catch the bus home- racing for a comfortable bed in our hostel- and racing- to not get eaten by goats?!??

That's right. Killer goats, on the trail path. Just when things were looking up, the sound of bells filled the air. From all directions, we were surrounded by a pack of horned black goats, viciously eating all the plant life around them. Clearly, we were not a welcome guest at their dinner party. Protecting the goats were two wolf-dogs- who really didn't like our presence. After debating for several minutes the right course of action, the dog and the goats ran away. But first, I took some epic pictures:





After following a trail that grew smaller, and smaller, and smaller, until it disintegrated in to nothingness, confusion ensued. With the town of Amalfi just a mile ahead of us, and the town of Praiano 700 meters below us (at the bottom of a cliff), we were faced with a difficult decision. The walk to Amalfi, up and down the mountains, would likely have been another five hours. But the journey to Praiano was far from a sure course of action. Afterall, the trail had disappeared several hundred paces back. It's difficult to descend a cliff without a trail or climbing gear. By some great stroke of luck, I stumbled upon a well-hidden stone stair case, that I started to hike my way down. At the bottom of the stair case was a vineyard- which led, conveniently to another staircase. Here's a picture of what we were up against:




Following the vines and branches, we made our way under fences, down steps, through acres of what was surely private property. Finally, nearing the town we were aiming for, I came across a farmer. Exasperated, I asked him "Dove sono?" (where am I?) Hesitating, he replied Priano, triggering a Tiger Woods esque fist pump. We had somehow made it. Though we never found the Path of the Gods, the path we followed had led us on a long, winding adventure and taken us, somehow, to our final destination.

That night, we returned to Sorrento for more pizza. Back at the hostel, a disco band was playing in the bar. With hundreds of young Italians, we enjoyed the music of groups like Sly and the Family Stone, Wild Cherry, even Lionel Richie. And if you haven't done the YMCA with hundreds of Italians (who don't even have the letter Y in their alphabet), you've never experienced the true international glory of The Village People.

Pompeii: A city that got totally owned by a volcano.

The first stop on our tour of southern Italy were the ruins of Pompeii. An hour's subway ride from Naples, we were concerned with the clear presence of pick pockets and swindlers all over the Napoli train station. Luckily, we arrived with our wallets in tact. After grabbing a panino from a food stand outside the park, we entered the ruins.




The first impression that everyone has of Pompeii is of its size. The Roman Forum, which spans a few acres, pales in comparison to the enormous city of Pompeii which once housed 40,000 citizens within the walls. Even though excavations started over 150 years ago, over 30% of the city remains unearthed. Because the city was buried in heaps of volcanic ash, everything is very well preserved. The ash and pumice actually protected the city's remains from a slue of devastating earthquakes that hit the region following the 79, AD eruption of Pompeii. The ash also preserved much of the city's art- frescoes still adorn the atriums of the homes of the upper class, the religious centers still maintain their devotional art. The incredible preservation of the city, coupled with the art's resilience, creates an atmosphere of a real ancient town, not a tourist attraction in the middle of a sprawling urban area.

Our first stops on the walk through Pompeii included the Basilica and the Forum. The Basilica, home to the city's mercantile activities, is marked by monumental red granite pillars that once held colossal Roman arches. The building was once home to the department of justice- you can still see where the magistrates sat when court was still in session. This style of architecture would be highly influential for nearly all of Europe's great cathedrals.






The forum was the site of Pompeii's shops as well as several religious centers. Like most of Italy's grand piazzas, traffic was forbidden around the forum. This created a space in which politics could be debated, a space where politicians could pander for votes, and a space where the citizens could collectively panic when they saw a column of lava and ash coming to seal their doom.

After walking past rows of ancient houses (including the "Lupanare" or the city's main brothel), we arrived at the necropolis- Pompeii's graveyard. In the century before the eruption, citizens were cremated and placed in the necropolis under a commemorative bust, or, if they were wealthy and important, a large statue. Today, the big draw of the necropolis are the famous "bodies"- the group of preserved figures who attempted to flee the city when the volcanic barrage ensued. Today, plaster casts of their final poses are on display. That's how life works- one minute you're peacefully at work in your vineyard. The next moment, you're outrunning a volcano, and 2,000 years later your agony is a photo opportunity for tourists from around the world.





Directly adjacent to the necropolis is the "antiteatro." Unlike most of Italy's amphitheaters, this is very well preserved. The seats, the tunnels, and the surface are all still in tact. The field is accessible only through two doors. During gladiator battles, both would enter the "door of the living." Only one would leave that door after the battle, while the other was pulled through the "door of the dead."




Backtracking a bit, we arrived at the theater district, home to "teatro grande" and "teatro piccolo." Teatro grande, ironically, was closed for renovation. Both were used for dramas, poetry readings, and orations. The district is complete with a large forum for theatergoers to mingle during intermission- and pay 10 dollars for a quick cocktail or beer. Both theaters had a roof at one time to create better acoustics and prevent from rain. Both theaters also had a strict dividing line between the seats reserved for the patricians and the seats reserved for the classe media.






After another walk through the forum (seeing more preserved bodies along the way), we arrived at the Villa of Mysteries, an ancient building that was built outside the walls of the city. The "mystery" refers to a religious rite in which women would be initiated in to the cult of marriage. A well-preserved fresco depicts this process.




We spent the rest of the day wandering through the residential zones. We passed marble mosaics that read "beware of the dog." We philosophized beneath great pillars, and had our pictures taken not in places of significance, but in places where other tourists were clamoring for photos. We marveled at the best preserved Roman frescoes in the world, and dodged groups of American students visiting with their study abroad programs. Finally, we exited the ruins to enjoy some gelato at a gelateria that I suspect was ran by the mafia (why else would 3 men in suits be suspiciously counting reams of 50 euro bills in a smoke filled corner?)

That night, we ate pizza in Sorrento before retiring early to the hostel. After a long day of traveling, I was asleep by 10:30pm. I would need the rest for the next day's adventures.

Off to the South of Italy... cranking the Jimmy Buffett the whole way there!

With another Thursday morning came another art history sight visit. This morning, we visited Palazzo Medici. Exactly as it sounds, this building was the home to the Medici family from 1440 until they... (haven't gotten that far yet). The design of the building is very interesting. Designed by the famous Renaissance architect Michelozzo, the building had three floors and three layers. The ground floor has rough, thick stones and high thin windows- resembling medieval palaces just around the corner. Clearly, this was designed to keep rival families away- especially that sketchy Paolo Strozzi character. The second and third floors get progressively smoother as the Medici needed a beautiful space to carry out all their "work." Which, after they abandoned banking in the early 1500s, was mostly paying artists, throwing parties, and chilling with their numerous mistresses. It was a hard life.



The interior of the building featured a beautiful chapel, depicting the procession of the magi to the Nativity. Cleverly, the "magi" are actually the Medici family. They don't even try to disguise this fact- the magi are clearly wearing the same clothing that the Medici wore on a daily basis. Painted by Benozzo Gozzoli, the frescoes are perfectly intact today, since the chapel is cut off from the air and pollution of the outside world.



Following a visit to the palace (which is also the current home of the provincial government of Florence), we walked through the market to San Lorenzo, the grand church commissioned by the Medici family. Designed by the architect Brunelleschi, the church is noted for its architectural purity and perfect geometric ratios. All of these concepts, of course, I am a master in because of my freshman year in high school gemoetry teacher, Karen K. (never could pronounce or spell her last name, but in all fairness none of her students could). The church is the burial place of all the Medici family, including a nice quaint tomb for Cosimo right in front of the church's altar. That song- "hard to be humble, when you're perfect in every way"- fits this family quite well.




This afternoon, following a lunch that featured Bruno's famous zuppa pomodoro (tomato soup), I went for my daily run in the hills. However, I was slowed by massive stomach cramps, most likely because I ate three bowls of tomato soup for lunch. It's hard, living in a Renaissance villa and having a private gourmet chef!

Italian class was spent watching a film called "Bread and Tulips." A comedy from the 90s, this movie is the Italian version of Lampoon's European Vacation. I will most certainly be making my family watch this movie when they arrive in FIFTEEN DAYS!

Tomorrow, it's off to Pompeii (followed by visits to Sorrento and Positano with hikes on the coast and at Mt. Vesuvius!) Should make for an epic weekend!

Finally, I'd like to apologize to my viewers, er readers, for all these google image pictures. Many of these places don't allow cameras (or none of them do). To help my memory when I'm at the old and senile age of 28, I included these pictures.

Arrivederci tutti!

Freddisimo!

Over the last several days, a cold snap has struck Florence, bringing snow and 40 mph winds. All this while Madison gets 50 degree temperatures and sunshine. Now there's climate change!



(Recreation of today's weather. Events may or may not have been dramatized for blogging purposes).

Yesterday I went in to Florence in the morning to do some reading at "Mama's Bakery," an American bakery that features delicious muffins, cupcakes, bagels, and all you can drink tea. A popular hangout for American students studying in Florence, the cafe has more North Face jackets per capita than any other location in the city! I picked up a new book beforehand at Florence's "Paperback Exchange" (the english speaking bookstore). Irving Stone's "The Agony and the Ecstasy" is a novel about Michaelangelo's life... I especially enjoy the descriptions of 15th century Florence. Other than the souvenir shops, not much has changed.



Later that day the villa was visited by best selling author Dava Sobel. Sobel is the author of a number of historical non-fiction books, including the very popular "Galileo's Daughter." I really enjoyed the book- it reads like a novel though it is actually a piece of non-fiction. When I asked her how she keeps her writing so captivating and entertaining, Sobel told me that she simply writes what is entertaining to her. That other people have been interested in her writing is a nice little side-bonus. Good answer.



This morning I trudged rebelled against 40 mph wind gusts en route to the middle school, where the students were learning about American jazz music. Today's "we're laughing with you not at you" moment: Hearing Italian middle schoolers pronounce "Satchmo."

A, ssi, si.

This morning began nearly identical to yesterday's- with a train ride through the exact same country side, but with a destination slightly further down the track. Today, it was off to the home of St. Francis- the mountain town of Assisi. Rising in the midst of one of Umbria's many snowcapped peaks, Assisi was originally settled by the Romans before becoming one of Italy's spiritual capitols. Their most famous son, Francis, was born and lived in the town his entire life, venturing to the top of the mountain for a spiritual retreat in to the wilderness (more on that later). Though he began his life as a rich, materialistic man, he renounced all wealth and possessions when a talking cross in the Chiara di Santa Clara (Church of St. Clare) told him to do so. As a religious mystic, Francis received the stigmata towards the end of his life (which would have made hiking in the mountains unimaginably difficult). Other feats of Francis include communicating with birds, appearing in two places at once (Arles and Assisi at the same moment!), and sponsoring a line of shot glasses, postcards, and cigarette lighters that continues to this day!

Upon arriving in Assisi, the first stop was Forte Maggiore, a 14th century castle that overlooks the city. Completely untouched by the flow of tourist traffic, the castle offers unhindered (and silent) views of the entire Umbrian countryside.







The next stop on the itinerary was the Cathedral of Assisi. A romanesque construction, the cathedral is far less impressive than the more notable Basilica of St. Francis, but it does have a large section of transparent glass flooring, where you can gaze onto the 4th century foundations of the church!

Next it was on to the Basilica of St. Francis, the main reason everyone comes to Assisi. Decorated with masterpiece frescos by Giotto and his followers, the Basilica is divided in to two parts. The lower (older) basilica dates back to the early middle ages. Today it is adorned with frescos ranging from the 12th century all the way to the 20th century. Housed in the lower basilica are various reliquaries of the Saint (including his shoes, his cloak, his chalice, and his autograph), as well as his actual tomb. Today, the tomb is a literal pilgrimage sight. I saw people literally wailing at the foot of his tomb, reciting rosaries at the altar, or lighting candles to pay him homage.






The Upper Basilica, noted for the lavish fresco cycle detailing the life and miracles of St. Francis, was damaged by an earthquake in 1997. The entire cycle laid on the floor in 300,000 tiny pieces. Today, other than a few tan blotches near the doors, one would have no idea that such destruction had hit the town. SO to you, art restoring people!



Following a lunch of boar head sandwhiches and Toblerone candy bars, we made our way to the "Porta Cappucini" (door of multiple Cappucinnos), the starting point for our wilderness trek. Rising several hundred meters over a very short distance, the 8km round trip is not for beginners... so I had no business on this walk! That being said, we thoroughly enjoyed the hike, the panoramic vistas of Umbria, the snow on the mountain peaks, the tranquility of walking on a path with zero tourists. Some go to Assisi seeking a spiritual experience with reliquaries of a long dead mystic. They're missing out on the true power of this region.






At the end of the hike is the Hermitage of St. Francis. Once a tiny cave where Francis would come to pray and meditate, the area is now a full blown spiritual retreat, with miniature campsites for prayer and contemplation. The franciscan nuns give tours to spiritual pilgrims, showing them the spots where Francis received the stigmata, drew water from the rock, and spoke with the birds.

The cell of Francis remains quite tiny. I was a bit uneasy about fitting through. When a nun leading a tour group asked me (in italian of course) why I wasn't moving, I replied "Sono troppo grande" (I'm too big). She shook her head, laughed, and pushed me through a door that couldn't have been more than three and a half feet. Maybe Catholic schools are on to something. Maybe to get to the best places in life, you just need a kick in the pants from a nun.

We timed our return hike perfectly (inadvertently), arriving back in Assisi just in time to catch the bus back to the train station and on to the 5pm train. Back in Florence, I enjoyed a "kebab" dinner and an episode of The Office. Another "Giorno Bellissimo" e fine!