Deutschland a fine land!

After having my plans for Switzerland hampered significantly by a debilitating sinus infection, I was hoping I would feel fresh and ready to enjoy Germany. Yesterday, I woke up in Switzerland at 6 am. I had hoped to visit Bern, the Swiss capital, for a few hours before moving on to Freiburg im Breisgau. But my nose told me to do otherwise. Thanks to the flexibility of traveling with a Eurail pass, I was able to sleep until 10 am before boarding an 11:20 train to Germany. Surely I owe my ability to breath out of my nose to that night of 9 hours of sleep!

Freiburg is the perfect city to start a six day stay in southern Germany. Though it's not the major tourist attraction like a Berlin or Munich, it offers a considerable amount of excitement thanks to its collegiate feel and historical significance. As soon as I arrived, I experienced the city's efficient metro system- a perfect example of German engineering and green living. Everywhere you look in this city, everything is running efficiently- from the daily organic food market in the munsterplatz to the German automobiles that automatically stop emitting pollutants while halted at a red light. I'm staying with my friend Zach- a fellow Wisconsin trombone player and member of Rank 9 (>8). Also here is Heather, another trombone player. Needless to say, the band jokes have been plentiful this weekend.

Last night I began by walking around the city, taking in the colorful buildings, the enormous Gothic cathedral miraculously spared from the WWII bombing raids, the medieval clock towers, and cobble stone lined streets (free of car traffic in the city center). After a brief tour, we headed to a traditional German restaurant, not too different from a Great Dane or Fox River Brewing Company. After sampling their delicious pilsner and eating a plate of bratwurst and sauerkraut, we returned to the apartment and hung out with a group of boisterous yet amusing German college students (first country I've visited where I can't speak the language).

Today, we woke up to a heavy rain downpour. Little match for my New Balance gortex boots and North Face jacket! We decided to climb the Schlossberg, a hill in the Black Forest just on the outside of the city. The trails lead to a giant watch tower, oddly shaped like an hourglass. After a steep hour of climbing, we arrived at the tower in heavy wind. By the time we reached the top of the aluminum structure, it was clearly fluttering with the breeze, providing either a relaxing or a frightful addition to the panoramic view of the city below.

After the hike, we headed back to the munsterplatz to enjoy the farmer's market. I ate a bratwurst mit krauten, served with grilled onions. After the very German lunch, we explored the city's cathedral. In side of the cathedral, amidst the German Renaissance paintings, wood carvings, and stained glassed windows, was a photo of the city of Freiburg at the end of World War II. The entire city is rubble. One can hardly discern where the houses stood, where the markets operated, where life in the city was even remotely possible. The only building that remained standing after the bombings was the Munster. Seen by many in Freiburg as a sign from God that the bombings would soon to come to an end, the resilience of the Cathedral is still an inspiration to many of the city's residents.

With rain coming down, we've been hanging out all afternoon, planning for tomorrow- 10 am train to Munich for Fruhlingfest, in a land where Leiderhosen, freshly baked pretzels, frothy beer mugs, and oom pah polka bands will be everywhere the eye can see!

Ok, I promised I would continue the previous blog post. Here is what I've been up to in Switzerland, besides dealing with a "sinusite"

Saturday morning we all woke up at 7 am to head to Glacier 3000 for Europe's best late spring skiing. As I was told the time we were leaving, I thought of all those high school ski trips where the bus left at 4am- to go skiing in the UP.

To reach the Glacier, we drove only one hour. But there was no snow anywhere. In fact, when we reached the Glacier's "parking lot", there was nothing but green grass. It was here I learned that we were only halfway up. The glacier was actually situated another 1,500 meters above us. Immediately, we boarded a cabin chair lift with 50 other skiers for the ski park.

It's difficult to describe a ski resort that rests approximately 500 meters over the tallest peaks of the Swiss Alps. It really does feel like skiing on top of the world. The appearance of the slopes can only be described as a marshmallow desert of wavy snow dunes, sharp rock protrusions, and seemingly impermeable clouds that temporarily pass over the brilliant sunlight causing a momentary suspension of any visibility.

The slopes, though not particularly steep, offered unique challenges because of their narrowness. The family that I was skiing with decided to ski a black diamond run. Uneasy about the prospect of a 3,000 meter drop should I fall off the glacier's edge, my ego automatically lead me to the face of an enormous head wall when I was informed that a 10 year old girl had skied the slope last winter without problems. Why couldn't I remember that I am in Switzerland- and most ten year old girls are skiing double black diamond runs backwards with their eyes closed and arms tied behind their back? I'll blame it on being 21 years old and on a pair of skis. After an exhausting 30 minutes on the longest ski run I've ever experiences, I made it down the bottom of the chair lift, where, extremely relieved to still be alive, I promptly dropped to my knees and confessed all sins, said ten hail Marys, and five our fathers.

The day ended with a 20 minute break on a broken chairlift- a perfect opportunity for my skin to fry like bacon. Though I had applied sunscreen and chap stick liberally, a snow covered glacier on a sunny day is conceptually very similar to an aluminum foil hot dog cooker that elementary school kids make in science class. I'm sure the wolves, bears, vultures, whatever animals may inhabit such an altitude- were disappointed to put the ketchup and mustard away as we were finally rescued from the glacial oven.

I should mention that at the end of the day, my sinuses were about to burst. One's nasal passages don't appreciate being under the "pressure" of a brewing sinus infection and 6,000 meters of altitude change in one day! The day ended with steak and fresh vegetables on the deck overlooking Lac Leman (I know now not to call it Lake Geneva while I'm here, lest I want to offend everyone who is not from the city of Geneva).

Yesterday I was able to sleep in, load some pictures, eat a leisurely breakfast- and set out for the city of Lausanne on my own. I made many stops in the Swiss Riviera's largest city- including the 12th century french Gothic cathedral, the 13th century castle that is now used as the city hall, the beautiful harbor where sailboats leave for dinner excursions beneath the Alpine mountains surrounding the lake, and the shore gardens blooming with flowers excited about the end of one of Europe's harshest winters of all time.



Unfortunately, my relaxing time down at the Ouchy harbor was interrupted by my sinuses, leading to the experience described in the previous blog post.

Today, after a fairly restless night, I boarded the train for the village of Veyteaux and the nearby Chateau Chillon. The castle is situated on a rocky island that has been used for defensive purposes since the time of the Roman Empire. The original castle was built in the 11th century, beginning a period of building that would last until the mid 1500s. By far the most impressive aspect of the castle, besides the latrines that drain right in to the lake (talk about eco-friendly plumbing!) was the defensive structure. Not only is there a natural moat created by the lake, but the castle has several interior walls, ramparts, and hidden keeps that prevented the French from ever taking over the castle. The castle itself maintained a place of immense economic significance because of its location between the northern European kingdoms and the Italian kingdoms- a prime trade border. Like the state of Illinois, the castle set up a series of toll booths along the way to bother traders from the northern states that were better at football and baseball. Eventually, the Savoy kingdom that possessed the castle for centuries got the boot from the city of Bern, who were jealous of the castle's future prospects of tourism revenue from post card and wooden sword sales.

After visiting the castle, I walked along the lake shore from the chateau to Montreux, the city known as the vacation capital of the Swiss Riviera. Though I was a bit annoyed by the vast population density of elderly American tourists lazily hitting tennis balls and entering the Montreux casino to spend their daily supply of quarters, it was hard not to appreciate the gentle breeze off the lake, the crystal clear skies proudly exhibiting the mountain tops, the blooming flowers and the well-crafted "Madagascar" characters made out of old pine needles. In another life I will rent roller blades and go from Lausanne all the way to Sion (on the Italian border). With the vast network of foot paths, it's possible to walk throughout the entire Lake Geneva region, following the same path the entire way.

EDIT: Once again, the powers that are BlogSpot have prevented me from uploading pictures of my beautiful adventures in Switzerland. If my vivid descriptions are not enough for you and your wild imagination, I suggest you visit my facebook profile until I can get these pictures up here.

If every adventure went totally as planned, how could we call them adventures?

Before I launch into an obligatory exaltation of the beauty of Switzerland's mountains and lakes, the purity of its air, the efficiency of its public transport system, the bipartisan perfection of its government, or the refreshing taste of fresh chocolate and cheese, I want to describe my run-in with the swiss healthcare system.

For the last two months, I've experienced a nagging cold. Though it's never been debilitating, I certainly consider it to be quite a nuisance. Until Saturday morning, the cold remained a cold. But when I woke up Saturday morning, completely unable to breathe out of my nostrils and smell the refreshing Swiss air, I knew the cosmic equalizer had given me a sinus infection amidst my wonderful European adventure. Can't complain though- first time in 5 months of travel of becoming somewhat ill is quite the record. Today, Monday, I found that the pain in my face was too much to handle. Graciously, the family I am staying with located an urgent care facility and drove me there, providing me with an English-french dictionary to aid in translation! Within two hours, I had helped a French speaking nurse fill out a stack of paperwork, I had seen a German speaking doctor, I had received my prescription written in a scrawl typical of doctors around the world, and I had my prescription filled by a woman who spoke nothing but rapid Swiss-French dialect. What a system! Virtually no waiting, instant prescription pick-up, low costs for the uninsured, and a comprehensive overview sent overseas for American insurance reimbursement. This is how health care is supposed to work. Take notes, America.

Too tired to continue for now. Will write more tomorrow!

Bienvenue a la Suisse!

Bon soir de Lausanne! With a 3 pm train to catch from Florence to Milan, arrival in Switzerland was temporarily imperiled yesterday when I tried to catch the 2 pm train from Sesto to Florence, only to find out that the 2 pm train had randomly been cancelled by TrenItalia. Sprinting to the bus stop, I arrived just in time for the local middle school to let out, causing a major traffic jam around the area! This caused a 20 minute delay in the bus' arrival. No big deal, I thought. It's only a thirty minute ride in. And at 2 pm the traffic is light.

Well not yesterday. With the rain, the bus was packed beyond capacity. Like Madonna and Child paintings in the Uffizi, there were just too many people on the bus. This resulted in stops at every stop along the way to drop off 1 or 2 passengers and pick up 10 or 11. By the time we arrived in Florence, it was 2:50 pm. Perfect timing for a traffic jam. A distance that should have taken 2 minutes took 9. So, at 2:59 pm, I got off the bus and plowed a tremendous hole through the hordes of stranded travelers at Santa Maria Novella, just reaching the platform in time. Shout out to my friend David for sprinting alongside me and carrying my other bag!

Thankfully, the remainder of the journey went smoothly. I arrived in Switzerland at 8:40 pm. Arriving just at dusk, I was given a perfect view of Lake Geneva and the surrounding castles with a brilliant orange sun sinking over the Alps, as if to say "Good job on finals. Welcome to summer vacation!"

This morning, the family that I am staying with took me to Gruyere, a small Swiss village with a 13th century castle. As we neared the village, traffic slowed. This was unusual since the village is so small and few cars pass through it. But it wasn't cars that held us up- instead, it was a horde of cows promenading to the mountainous pastures for the summer months. Accompanied by herders in traditional Swiss garb pushing rustic cheese carts, this was a perfect introduction to the Switzerland of everyone's imagination.

The castle (and I promise to upload photos later this week!) was built in the 1270s. For over three hundred years, the region was controlled by bailiffs and counts that hid from pesky French invaders within the castle's walls. In the 1600s, the castle went baroque, abandoning medieval warfare with the French in favor of art and high culture. Wimps.

Today, the castle is a spectacular museum, where you can see exhibits with 800 year old sheets of armor, medieval cannons, baroque paintings, rococco ceilings, a traditional french garden, ramparts that provide spectacular views of the Alps, and a multimedia spectacle clearly not produced during the Middle Ages, but was still very entertaining.

After a visit to the castle, we drove to Bulle, an even smaller village home to the Cailler chocolate factory, one of Switzerland's finest purveyors of coca-related products. When I heard "chocolate factory," I expected we were going to see some machines making chocolate, then wander through a giant gift shop. And while there was certainly a large gift shop, I had no idea we would be going through an interactive, multimedia tour surely designed after the attractions of Universal Studios or Disney World. Spanning the history of chocolate, from Spanish theft of the cocoa plant from South America, to the legalization of chocolate by the Church in the 1500s, the tour wound through mock Aztec temples, Renaissance courts, Baroque studios, and simulated Swiss pastures.

The tour ended in front of the chocolate machines, which turned out fresh chocolates for us to taste. I was a little disappointed that the tour only included one free chocolate.... But, in the next room, there was a table full of hundreds of different Cailler chocolate products- all you can eat, free of charge. I've never walked so slowly around a table before in my life. Let's just say that I left enormously content, but with an equally enormous stomach ache.

The day ended with a relaxing evening on the deck that overlooks Lake Geneva. Watching sail boats, a near by soccer game, listening to Jimmy Buffett and reading a captivating book- needless to say, it felt like vacation.

Tomorrow- off to a glacier (altitude 3,000 meters!) for a morning of skiing!

A tout a l'heure!

Arrivederci, villa!

As my time at the Villa Corsi Salviati comes to an end, I can't help but reflect on what an amazing semester it has been. So few are blessed with the kind of opportunity that I have had. I just spent four months living in a Renaissance villa. Does life get better than that?

Spent my last full day at the villa studying. Took my cinema midterm this morning, studied for art history all afternoon. Took one last run/hike up Monte Morello. While I won't miss the vicious dogs that scare me six feet in the air on every run, I will dearly miss the point where I turn the corner, leaving the main road behind, thus beginning a long, narrow road through olive groves and vineyards, with panoramic views of Sesto and Florence. I will miss the exhilaration of running up a mountain- reaching the end of the trail in 30 minutes and stopping to gaze out at the world's most beautiful country. For all of the chaos and confusion that Italy has dealt with in the past 60 years, none of it has reached the top of my mountain. The top of the mountain is the true Italy, the one uncorrupted by Silvio Berlusconi and the RAI networks, untainted by the ongoing feud between the Fascists and the Communists, untouched by umbrella sellers and miniature models of the David. The top of Monte Morello is perfect. I can't attach any photos of it. In order to maintain the image I have in my mind, I have decided not to take any photos. Actually, it's because I forgot my camera today... Anyway, Appenine Mountains, you will be missed. Bring on Bascom!

Spent the last evening taking one last walk through the villa garden, navigating my way through the hedge maze, eating a pasta dinner, and getting one last gelato- mint and straciatella (chocolate chip). As I watched workers dismantle the Sesto Festival that had enlivened the city throughout last week, the reality that this semester has come to an end finally sank in.

Tomorrow, after my art history final, I leave for a 19 day tour of Europe. I'm not done yet! The itinerary includes 6 days in Switzerland, 6 days in Germany, 2 days in Prague, 4 days in Vienna, and one final day of Michelangelo, ciocolatta calda, chianti classico, and the Duomo. While I'm not sure how often I'll be able to update this blog, I'll do my best to fill you in on life in the rails and hostels of Europe.

I close my last villa blog post with a picture I took during my first week in Italy- a picture which I feel perfectly reflects the beauty of this country and of the place I just called home.

Pero ho mangiato troppo!

Officially done with classes for the 2009-2010 academic year. No more sitting in a desk for an hour and a half furiously taking notes! Of course, this year the celebratory feelings of being done with classes are confounded by the reality that this program ends in 3 days- and then I leave my Renaissance Villa that has housed me for the last 4 months.

Monday morning I woke up quite sore. The two hour soccer game with the middle schoolers had taken its toll. Spent all morning working on art history, cinema, and Italian, doing the compulsory pre-final exam comprehensive review. It's always difficult to clamp down and study for finals in the spring time. But when it is spring time in Italy the difficulty is infinitely multiplied.

Monday night I said Arrivederci to my conversation partner. He invited me to his house to enjoy a traditional tuscan dinner with his family. A very fine gesture- and a very fine dinner, featuring traditional antipasti toscano, risotto with pepper and prosciutto, fresh cod, roasted potatoes, and my favorite white wine, Vernaccia di San Gimignano. As is usually the case, we spent much of the dinner piecing through my fragmented Italian grammar and turning it somehow into a conversation- before the dinner concluded with an intelligent conversation (in English) about Obama, Berlusconi, Health Care, Italian soccer, The horse races in Siena and so on. I've learned so much from these weekly meetings. Sad to see them end.

Yesterday began with one last field trip for art history. Again, we visited Palazzo Pitti, with its excessively three-dimensional 16th century frescoes. I don't understand how a painter can use paint to make a statue look like something Michelangelo carved from Tuscan marble. But it's possible apparently.

Following a brief visit to the palace, we went to its backyard- the Boboli Gardens. A destination that should be at the top of every traveler's list, the gardens are always isolated, quiet, and peaceful- exactly how the Medici family left them. With our art history professor's connections, we were once again able to see a hidden masterpiece on our own. I will definitely miss the VIP access to all of Florence's landmark sites.

The Boboli Grotto, designed to resemble a sea cave, was designed by the painter/biographer/architect Giorgio Vasari in the mid-1500s. Created to give the visitor the impression of being underwater, the grotto resembles something one would find in a Pirates of the Caribbean movie. Made with a mixture of sponges, wires, Michelangelo's unfinished sculptures, and masterpieces by Giambologna, the Grotto is Florence's most unique juxtaposition of sophisticated art and Disney World ingenuity. I'm sure Walt Disney had something like this in mind when he made his park. It's even true that the statues in the grotto used to be able to move through a system of hydraulic pumps.

Following the aquatic exploration of the Grotto, we simply walked around the garden, looking at cats, ancient sculptures, Renaissance fountains, blooming flowers, and admiring the hilltop views of the Duomo below us.

Last night at the villa was our "farewell celebration." Long hyped for the five course meal, the Villa was abuzz with anticipation throughout the afternoon. At 5:30, students from the Shakespeare class reenacted scenes from his plays in the Villa garden. The best reenactment featured actors sporting Wisconsin or Michigan t-shirts in the Romeo and Juliet fight scene. When the performances ended, there was still another 30 minutes before dinner. Just enough time to enjoy a game of Boccie on the Villa lawn.

Dinner definitely lived up to expectations. With over five courses, the dinner featured everything from liver pate to bruschetta, to reboiled soup, to Tuscan crepes, to grilled chicken, to everyone's favorite dessert, tiramisu. Nobody left the dinner table as easily as they arrived there, as everyone added at least an inch to their jean sizes. I'll never forget the image of our chef, Bruno, grilling chicken, as his pet chicken Henrietta stood by and watched eagerly.

Spring Time at the Villa: A photographic tour

My First Class Picture

As a teacher, not just the tall student awkwardly standing in the back-middle!

I'm Going to Miss This Place

My last weekend in Italy. Where have the last four months of my life gone? But before I fall into that sentimental trap that inevitably ruins the last days of many who study abroad, let me tell you about the events of this last weekend...

Friday morning, with the sun shining brightly, and with the volcanic eruption surpressed from my thoughts, I ventured into Florence for a morning of simple exploration. With no particular agenda, I ran in to 800 year old palaces, hidden churches with secret Renaissance masterpieces, side alley bakeries with sinful fudge brownies, and street performers displaying talents ranging from Dante memorizations to classical guitar. The unfortunate part of tourism in Florence is that few have the time to simply wander, without a map, to find areas uncharted even by the infallible St. Rick Steves.

After eating a panino on the steps of San Lorenzo, all the while wondering what the church would be like had Michelangelo been allowed to complete the facade, I boarded the number seven bus for Fiesole. Before I boarded the bus, I used my museum pass to enter San Marco convent- not to gaze at Fra Angelico's gentle frescos or Michelozzo's unifying architecture, but to use the bathroom. Ah, the perks of a season pass to Florence's museums.

When I reached Fiesole, clouds had covered nearly all of the sun, dropping the temperature ten degrees. Perfect weather for another Friday afternoon hike! With five others from my villa, as well as our history of science professor, his wife, our villa director, and her aging golden retriever, we set out for the two hour hike to Settignano. But like most hikes in Italy, you can't depend upon reliable trail markings and maps....

As the trail wound up steep paths cluttered with pietro serena rocks (a type of limestone), we passed ancient Etruscan homes and burial mounds, Renaissance quarries that produced Florence's finest churches and villas (including my residence, the Villa Corsi-Salviati), and the field where Leonardo da Vinci conducted the first manned flight experiments. The field was also the site of the first crash landing. It's amazing what a difference a 15 minute bus ride can make. Away from the souvenir hawkers, tourist groups, and claustrophobic museums is a place so serene and untouched. So unknown, in fact, that we were the only ones on the trail.

As I mentioned above, Italian trails are seldom well-marked. As a result, we were diverted in a large circle- which, rather than leading us to our destination of Settignano, led a few hundred yards from where the bus had dropped us off in Fiesole. Nevertheless, the hike was beautiful. Perhaps I've never been so content on a crowded Florence city bus.

That night, following a dinner of fresh pesto, Verrancia di San Gimignano (my second favorite white wine in all of Italy) and vanilla ice cream served with a liberal helping of fresh Sicilian strawberries, I stayed in to watch "The Blind Side." I can honestly say that other than the day of the Packers playoff game, Super Bowl Sunday, and during the movie, I had forgotten about football in Italy. That right there shows how much I've enjoyed what I've been doing. It's perhaps a bit disconcerting too. Nevertheless, the movie really made me want to coach football as soon as I graduate college. So fired up to get back on the gridiron.

Saturday provided a rare opportunity to sleep in. After taking full advantage of this opportunity, I ran my obligatory 5 kilometers (my right knee is starting to feel the trauma of running down mountain roads every day) before heading to my favorite pasticerria for a freshly baked pastry breakfast. Detouring through the Sesto Market and the Spring Festival that I have previously raved about, I met up with friends from the Villa who were going to eat a local restaurant, the Sesto Pub. The restaurant, which closely resembled the interior of something one would find on State Street, served American sized pizzas that tasted as good as Italian pizzas at prices so low you'd find them in neither country.

That night, I went in to Florence to book my train tickets for after the program. However, a volcano erupted in Iceland. As a result, the train stations are swamped with stressed out travelers trying to board trains in desperation. After collecting just a few of the necessary tickets, I had to book it to the restaurant for dinner.

I Quadro Leoni (the Four Lions) is a trattoria raved about in all the travel books yet still relatively uncrowded by tourists, who would prefer not to venture into the oltrarno neighborhood and its crooked, dark, yet safe alleyways. The trattoria, in Piazza della Passera, is located at the site of a Renaissance brothel. Today, the piazza is still named for that business, and translates loosely into the square of a particular part of female anatomy. You can figure that one out.

At the restaurant, I met up with 24 friends from the Villa. We wanted one last night out in Florence together- thus we reserved half the restaurant. I ordered a plate of lasagne- served with a white sauce, a hefty dosage of pecorino and gorgonzola, mushrooms, and various other fresh vegetables. For dessert, we were served cheesecake and tiramisu. Throughout this delicious dinner, we enjoyed a 1.5 liter jug of Chianti wine. I'm going to miss the wine from the wicker baskets. As a side note- we ate dinner at the same table where Anthony Hopkins sat every night when he was in Florence filming Hannibal. The restaurant no longer serves human brain, thankfully only delicious Tuscan specialties.

For later in the evening, we had made a reservation at a trendy Jazz club overlooking the Arno. While we waited for our table, we were served complementary glasses of champagne. Ah, the glamour of Italian nightlife. However, instead of being given a table, we were dumped in some side bar where apparently they threw all the college students. Mildly upset but still gloating about the free glass of bubbly, we departed the premises. On our walk back to the train station, we passed over Ponte Vecchio, under the Vassarian cooridor, through the court yard, and in to the Piazza della Signoria, where a guitar player was entertaining an audience with Beatles hits. Sitting under the Loggia della Signoria, beneath some of the finest sculpture in the western world, listening to the Beatles, under the stars, next to the spot where Savanorola was burnt at the stake and hung, besides one of the finest Italian palaces. For a few brief minutes, the world reached equilibrium. Stuffed to the brim with lasagna and cheesecake, ears filled with Let it Be, the world was perfect.

But the world is not a perfect place. Alas, back to finals week. But in the midst of an intense day of studying came a two hour break, in the form of a soccer game. The Italian middle schoolers that I have been teaching english to for the semester came to the villa (in massive numbers- 20 or 30 of them!) for a farewell match. Because we were afraid we would be slaughtered by the far superior Italians, we divided teams between Americans and Italians, and played 7 on 7 at the villa soccer courts. The two hour match began with the playing of both nation's national anthems- giving this pickup game between college students and young adolescents the feel of a world cup match, if just for a few seconds. Throughout a game filled with a perfect blend of Italian and English from all players, missed headers, botched shots, skinned knees, and a clear difference in skill between the two nationalities came plenty of smiles and high fives. When the whistle blew, I nearly collapsed from exhaustion. But what an afternoon.



Not to brag- but I happened to lead all scorers with 3 goals, that's right, a hat trick. AFC Fiorentina, struggling in the middle of the pack in Serie A, may just be calling on me before I head to Switzerland on Friday....

La Vita (alla Villa) e bella!

This week has been a week of preparation for final exams, scholarship applications, term papers, and my 18 day tour of Europe (to commence shortly). As such, I haven't left the villa much, other than my daily run through the mountains. The workouts are getting more enjoyable each day as more of the trees burst in to life with the continued arrival of Italian Spring. Each day, flowers of purple, pink, white, and green explode from the trees on my running routes, providing ample distraction to help me forget that running is actually not that fun. Running up a very steep, treacherous hill is even less fun. But when you're on a mountain top in Italy overlooking ancient farmhouses, Renaissance villas, the Duomo, and all- it's very much tolerable.

Yesterday was my final morning of teaching English at the middle school. It's sad to see the internship end. This has really been my favorite part about living in Sesto. I wish I could have taught more than only one morning a week. Our final lesson focused on American idioms, slang, texting, etc... All the good stuff you don't learn from the language textbooks. The material ranged from traditional cliches such as "I have a frog in my throat" and "I'm in the doghouse" to modern favorites, including "BOOM ROASTED!" and "Do Work Son!" We live in such a great country. After the lesson, the kids taught me some Italian text message abbreviations. Since I'm a forgetful person, here are the two I actually remembered:

TVB: Ti voglio bene (I love you)
XKE: Perche (Why?)

Anyway, I will miss all these kids. Luckily they all friended me on facebook. Ah the wonders of technology!

Last night I met again with my conversation partner for the final time. We walked to the Sesto Festival (for my 9th time in 3 days) where I purchased a cannolo (cannoli) from a Sicilian vendor. My conversation partner also showed me the different regional specialties- all the famous cheeses, sausages, breads, and desserts that somehow don't make the Italian people horrendously obese (Io sono ingrassato un po in Italia).

During this final full week at the villa, I've taken advantage of our garden, which has come to life with the planting of lemon and orange trees. I promise I'll add pictures later. But having a class outside in such a garden is considerably more inviting and more conducive to discussion than the cement fortress that is the Humanities building... Ciao per ora!

Sesto Festo! WOOH!

This weekend I had intended on doing nothing but homework- finishing my term paper for art history, starting my final essay for fascism, etc. But like most slots that I leave vacant in my schedule in Italy, I was of course swept into something fun and unpredictable.

The commune of Sesto Fiorentino (the suburb that I have lived in all semester) has a grand festival every April to celebrate the arrival of Spring. With over a week of food vendors, live concerts, and portable store fronts, the Sesto Festival is like a county fair, but without the tractors. There is even a beer vendor by the concert stage- Waterfest anybody!?

Yesterday, because I needed distractions from my constant writing, I escaped to the festival not once, but four times. Each time I sampled a food of a different variety- a chicken the first time, doughnuts later, a cheeseburger at night (topped with a traditional Italian blend of sauerkraut, sauteed peppers, and mayonaise- yum!) Today, after the rains ended and the sun returned, myself along with all of Sesto's 30,000 some residents returned to the market, which had apparently doubled in size overnight. This meant twice the number of free cheese and sausage samples! Also enjoyed a Sicilian chocolate strudel from a stand that is probably controlled by the Mafia.

Back to the studying- then watching the final round of the Masters tonight. Spent all night last night watching hockey and golf while my friends went out clubbin'- I'm far too cool for any school!

Let the Sun shine! Cinque Terre and the Arrival of Spring in Italy

This week has been filled with plenty of sun, games of bocce ball, soccer, and hide and seek in the villa gardens, picnics on the lawn, shorts and flip flops, and sun burned visages. With the departure of my family departed the unseasonably cold and rainy weather in Italy, which evidently followed my family back to Wisconsin. For the last several days, temperatures have reached the mid seventies and the sun hasn't disappeared once.

Yesterday, taking full advantage of the weather, we ventured to Cinque Terre. Long an undiscovered paradise, Cinque Terre today is relatively crowded with Americans and Germans- yet it's far from the tourist traps of downtown Florence and Rome. Rick Steeves, the infallible travel master, is responsible for this transformation- because of him, everybody who lives and works in Cinque Terre is now wealthier than they ever imagined they would be.

Arriving in La Spezia, a port city just north of Pisa, we hopped on a ferry for the national park area. The two hour boat ride took us by several coastal villages, each one crowded with tall, vibrantly colored, overcrowded buildings and bustling ports filled with row boats and shrimp fishermen.




The train stopped first in Riomaggiore, the southernmost town in the pack. We however headed all the way to Verranza, the area's largest town, also the furthest to the north. Though the sandy beaches of Veranzza were tempting, we bought our trail passes and headed for the hiking paths.

The first two trails are very strenuous, and take about an hour and a half to complete. Often we were walking on trails no wider than the length of my shoes, over rugged terrain above a rocky edifice or cliff. Gives a new meaning to living on the edge. Though the first two walks were the most crowded, they were also the most beautiful- reaching higher altitudes than all the other towns- and the most tranquil. It was however a bit surprising to see several six year olds hiking the trails with their parents- either the parents are crazy or those kids will be far tougher than I will ever be.






The latter two hikes were relatively flat, running parallel to the shore most of the time. This created impressive views of the Mediterranean and various shrimp boats on the horizon. As we approached Riomaggiore, concluding our five hour hike, I had a sudden attack of HUNGER! Luckily, Cinque Terre is a region well known for its food- specifically its fish. In Riomaggiore, we found a restaurant (of course reccomended by Rick Steeves) that served fresh daily catches with seasonal vegetables. I ordered swordfish with grilled eggplant. Together, we enjoyed a bottle of Cinque Terre's famous regional white wine- a terrific compliment to any fish meal. I don't often describe wine as refreshing- but after a difficult hike, a glass of this was like a red gatorade after 18 holes of golf back home. Just that good.

Heading back to the train station, we were informed of a train derailment that had delayed our train for 100 minutes. A long time to wait for a seven minute train ride- but necessary, since the ride goes through the center of a mountain. Rather than wait by the tracks, we walked 100 yards to the top of a cliff and sat on the rocks, watching more of the boats on the water finishing their days as the sun set beyond the cliff, over the Mediterranean waters. This truly is what Margaritaville must look like.






Today, with sore legs, I woke up and ran for five miles, before enjoying breakfast at a local bakery (some kind or freshly baked raisin bread). Later, I went to the Sesto market and ate a rotisserie chicken for lunch. As fun as yesterday was, and as sharply as those places will linger in my memory- the fun has to come to an end sometime- time to write a seven page art history paper!