Sarahnissima
Italy and such as

July 1, 2009

This morning I got up and hiked up a mountain in the Tuscan hillside to go see a castle. I walked through the Cyprus trees that make the hillside so spiky, past the rows and rows of olive trees that dot the land, past a few run down buildings that were once the place someone called home, until I reached the castle. It only took me 20 minutes from the apartment so I grinned to myself and kept on walking. I walked and walked, farther and farther up the hill until I reached a stop sign 20 minutes later. It seems that, like Forrest Gump, I need a sign to tell me when to stop.

You see, I’ve been feeling a bit like a chunky monkey lately (following a week of eating characterized by non-existent will power) and I’ve been a little frustrated that I can’t just take off running the way I used to. You know, baby and all. So I decided today to go conquer walking, following all my normal running routine stuff. What I found in hiking up the hill, my iPod cheering me on (thank you Aunt Lisa!), was that my legs were burning, I was sweating profusely, I had to work to control my breathing, I wanted to quit, I wanted to cry, and through it all I had a profound sense of satisfaction that I didn’t stop, that I didn’t cry, and that I had done it. It seems walking can be a substitute for running. Huh, who knew? I guess you just have to climb a mountain.

I can’t complain too much though, it was a beautiful place to torture myself. Chris and I are living out next to I Tatti right now while we cat- and house-sit for his boss so my walk wasn’t the usual stroll down the Arno or climb past Piazza Michelangelo. In fact, I didn’t see a single piece of dog poop on my walk so I knew I wasn’t in Florence. The air smelled like pine needles and olive trees. There were birds chirping and the air was filled with almost constant buzzing of weird forest insects. On my way back (mercifully downhill after my 40 minute climb up) I passed a clearing in the trees where I could look out over the valley in which Florence sits. Right there, right in the middle, was the pride and joy of Florence: Santa Maria del Fiore, the Duomo. I giggled to myself and thought, “I love this place” and kept on walking.

So that’s how I started my day today.

Updatepalooza continues…

January: Time to work

I didn’t have as much time for sticking around America as I’d hoped to have at Christmas time. The time flew and before I knew it, the day had come for me to say goodbye to everyone, Chris included, and hop on a plane, go over the great big ocean, and find myself in Florence once again, only now as a teaching assistant and not a student.

And it was really my working as a teaching assistant for the Masterpieces class that was my big news for January. Along with the new job came a whole new way of dealing with Florence and relating to the Captain, who was now my boss, not my professor, and Ciambella, who was my fellow teaching assistant. I was a little nervous on my first day of class, but not too bad. The first time I spoke up in front of everyone was nerve-wracking, though all I was doing was asking them all to sign the attendance sheet. They were a new group of strangers who knew nothing about me, what I did last year, or what I was going to ask of them during the semester and frankly, I don’t blame them because I didn’t really know either.

My routine was this: Monday morning Ciambella and I would meet the Captain for coffee and pasta (remember, that means a pastry) before class. Class on Monday from 11-12:30. Tuesday and Wednesday, Ciambella and I would split the onsite lecturing, each of us taking a 45 min block. We would lecture at different spots around Florence, like the Piazza della Signoria, the Church of Santa Croce, the Spanish Chapel at Santa Maria Novella, and places like that. On Thursday mornings we would go through our lectures for the following week with the Captain and that might sound familiar to those of you who followed my blog last year. Last year Ciambella and I did provas, where we were guest lecturers for the Masterpieces class. I did mine last April, I think it was. You might remember that it was one of the most stressful things I did all year. Anyway, as a TA I got to do them every week, but they became less and less stressful as the semester went on.

Ok. So that was my basic routine… and I absolutely loved it! Minus the weekly provas, of course. I was surprisingly busy and surprisingly attached to the students. I couldn’t believe how quickly that happened! Of course, they were my first class ever and I’ll never forget them.

And that’s how I spent most of my January. It wasn’t until the end of the month the Chris came over, joining the ranks over at the newly-christened Casa di Carciofi. I’m sure it wasn’t much of a treat for him to live with three very busy, usually stressed out silly girls.

February and the little surprise…

At the beginning of February something seemed a little funny… with me. I don’t really know how to explain it except that I felt I had been sprinkled with CGI fairy dust and I couldn’t fight the feeling that something had changed with me. And I had a pretty good idea what it was, though I couldn’t really believe it. I was pretty sure that Chris and I had a little surprise on the way, say in about 9 months or so.

For most of the month of February I went back and forth between “I am, I’m sure of it” and “there’s no way I could be, I’m not.”

Padua

My CGI fairy dust feeling was on my mind when Chris, Ciambella, Lara, the Captain and I all boarded the train and headed to Padova on the 7^th to see the Arena Chapel, also called the Scrovegni Chapel, decorated by Giotto. It’s one of the most important works of art in western art history and I was thrilled to be seeing it for the first time.

I wasn’t disappointed. When I first walked in I actually teared up. It was so amazing.

Our trip was quick, but wonderful. And I was still wondering at the end of the day… “hum… could I be?”

Rome

The 13^th and 14^th of February I went down to Rome with the Michelangelo class for my second private tour of the Sistine Chapel. I felt good because that morning I had decided that there was no way I was pregnant and I was relieved to free of the constant chatter in my head.

Since Ciambella and I had already done this trip with the Michelangelo class we decided to go off and do our own thing. A sciopero, or strike, made us cancel our reservations with the Borghese gallery—annoying—but we managed to fill our time with other things. At the end of our busy day, but before the private tour, we were headed to the Castel Sant’Angelo when we got distracted by a ice rink right next to the Tiber. We had to.

After paying for our lockers and skates we hit the ice. Ciambella used to play ice hockey so we’ll forget about how she was skating circles around me while I wobbled around like Bambi on ice. I did better than I expected, but I thought I’d die so saying I did better than expected is not really saying much at all. While Ciambella was off getting her camera to document our fun I did the one thing I was hoping to avoid. A group of unruly Italian children around the age of 7 went zipping past me doing triple salchows, sit spins, and double axels. Those little snots cut me and off and next thing I knew I was flying through the air in slow motion, feet to the sky, arms flailing, as I went crashing down butt first with a mighty thud on to the cold, hard ice. Fortunately for me, Ciambella wasn’t back yet, so neither was her camera. I took it easy after that.

The trip to the Sistine was stunning, as it had been before.  (Uh–look at that picture!  Do you see how empty that place is?  Incredible!)  Afterward, I joined Lara, the Captain, Carol the librarian, and Carol’s friend for dinner at Armando’s next to the Pantheon. Lara and I mistakenly ordered plates of melted cheese (don’t ask), which caused serious GI distress and a lot of nagging from the Captain, but all was made better by the desert. It was maybe the most delicious pie, Lara’s apple pie notwithstanding, that I’ve ever eaten. Oh, happy.

My second day in Rome was spent in the Pope’s gardens (where you can get some great views of St. Peter’s from the back) and checking out some other churches before heading back to Florence.  Oh, yeah, and Lara and I accidentally got on the wrong metro at one point and ended up running at full speed from Piazza Repubblica to Santa Maria della Vittoria to see Bernini’s Saint Theresa in Ecstasy. I guess I didn’t really take it that easy.

Siena and San Gimignano

My next big trip in February was on the 20^th to Siena and San Gimignano. This was business though, not pleasure. For this trip I was traveling in my official capacity as co-TA for Masterpieces. That meant, among other things, that I was in charge of lecturing to a small group of the students (Ciambella and I broke up the class according to which side of the bus they were sitting on, giving us each about 22 students) in the Cathedral and Cathedral museum and then in San Gimignano to the whole group. It was amazing.

We had some small problems when we first arrived, but they weren’t that big of a deal and the trip went pretty smoothly, aside from when we almost left one student and Ciambella in Siena because the student was late to the bus, Ciambella ran after her, and we had to go to stay on schedule. In the end, everyone was accounted for and we were off to the beautiful hill town of San Gimignano.

I lectured in front of the Collegiata, which used to be the city’s cathedral, but no more, my friends. They lost their bishop (how embarrassing) and now it’s just another church. At the end of the day we were all exhausted—I was more exhausted then I should have been and thought, “hummm….”—so we headed to a bar for a glass of Prosecco. I wondered if I should drink my, you know, just in case. I was still playing the guessing game. Mind you, I’d been playing the guessing game for 18 days by that point.

By the time we were all heading out to the bus, the day was clearly a success. The only casualties I have to report from this trip are my mp3 player, which mysteriously stopped working, and Chris’ camera, which also mysteriously stopped working. But the students were happy and the first field trip of the semester was over.

Pistoia and Prato

The Sunday following Siena, so the 22^nd, Chris and I took a quick trip to Pistoia and Prato, two cities just outside of Florence and very easy to reach by train. The trip turned out to be a bit a bust, but not a total loss. In Pistoia we found almost everything closed, which is what you get when you go to a small town in Italy on a Sunday, but we met up with Scott, one of Chris’ co-workers, who lives in Pistoia. He showed us around and turned out to be an excellent tour guide. I really enjoyed the Giovanni Pisano Pulpit in Sant’Andrea.

He was accompanied by his two little kids Isa and Samu (Samu is how the Italians shorten Samuel). They were so adorable and we were all delighted by Samu’s “penguins and dogs” comments throughout the day. (Samu is learning both English and Italian and at times they get a little jumbled. For instance, after calling everything in sight either a penguin or a dog, Samu spotted a building covered in scaffolding and proudly announced, “Penguin!” Scott laughingly said, “yes, that’s very much like a penguin except that it’s not like a penguin at all.”)

After Pistoia it was off to Prato where our main goal was food. Prato has the largest Chinese community in Italy and, since it’s only 20 minutes by train outside of Florence, it’s a popular place for real Chinese food. We didn’t run straight to the restaurant though, we were good. First we stopped into the cathedral for some art—blah blah blah—and then we ran to the food. The food did not disappoint, let me tell you. I mean, it was no Flying Tiger, but it was really, really good.

After dinner I could barely function. I was so tired I thought I wouldn’t make it. Hum… why am I so tired, I thought. We’ll just see about that.

Hum… is right!

My inner turmoil about the CGI fairy dust grew during the month. Something was a little funny, that was for sure. I knew that there was a magical test that could tell me if my suspicions were correct, but I was so afraid I was wrong that I didn’t want to take the test. What if I failed? I just don’t think I could handle that kind of rejection. (That was a Back to the Future quote for Josh.)

After consulting about 15 people—I’m not so good about keeping things to myself—I finally set a date in my mind for the day of the test. When that day came I chickened out. I was still too afraid. I’d wait one more day, I told myself. But then an amazing thing happened… on my way home from work on Thursday, February 26 I found myself walking into the Farmacia at the corner of via degli Artisti and via Pier Capponi and asking the man at the counter for a prova di gravidanza, a pregnancy test.

Gasp.

The thing, with the delightful brand name of “Lady Friend,” burned a whole in my bag the whole way home. I played little games like “if I see three babies in strollers before I get home I’ll take it… ok… two babies in strollers… ur… if I see someone with a child under 10 before I get home…” Stuff like that. When I got home Vanessa Avery and I chatted a bit until I could no longer take it. I pointed out my new Lady Friend on the dresser and she shrieked that I had to take it right away. I tried to fight her, but she’s very demanding and there I was, spending some time with Lady Friend.

Only three surprisingly short minutes later I had my answer: Si! Sono incinta! (That means “Yes! I’m pregnant!” for anyone who might be confused.) And there it was. Waiting for Chris to come home was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done.

And that’s the story of how I learned to listen to my body when it was trying to tell me something.

Milan, with baby.

The very next day Chris, baby, and I left to join the Leonardo class on their trip to Milano. We’d never really been to Milan, only the train station, so we were pretty psyched. We also went to Parma on the trip. It was so wonderful. I was tired, as had become my custom, but was on cloud nine the entire time.

The highlight of the trip for me was our visit to Leonardo’s Last Supper at Santa Maria delle Grazie. It was so amazing. I was really surprised at well conserved it is. It was one of those “oooh!” moments from my Italian experience. So incredible.

My second biggest highlight was the Milan cathedral. I had no idea that Italian Gothic could be so amazing! It was spectacular! The piazza was full of adorable children in costume—I have no idea why, Carnivale was long over—and there were balloons and confetti everywhere. It was so festive. My favorite part was climbing onto the roof, where baby and I had our first official picture together.

And that was the end of February.

Updatepalooza to be continued…

Happy Saint John the Baptist Day everyone!

It’s that time of year again.  Time to dust off the ole’ Calcio Storico digs, head to the baptistery, and get ready for some fireworks.  That’s right, it’s everyone’s favorite Florentine holiday: St. John the Baptist Day!  St. J is the patron saint of Florence so today is a pretty big holiday here in Flo-town.  Chris and I both have the day off work and have planned quite an exciting time.  Well, not really all that exciting, but it should be nice.  First we’re heading back to the apartment in town to drop off some stuff, then we’re off for a picnic lunch just outisde the city.  Tonight it’s fireworks and friends, next to the Arno.

So that’s that plan.  Hope you all have a wonderful St. John the Baptist Day!

So here’s what you missed…

Tuesday, June 16, 2009

Yesterday morning provided me with one of those little moments that I find so enjoyable in that happy little place called the inner workings of my mind. As I walked down Borgo Pinti on my way to work my mind, or rather my stomach, was consumed with one desire: Milk. All I could think was, “I want ice cold milk in my belly.” “Give me some milk.” “Milk—now!” “Milk, milk, milk, delicious milk, MILK!!!” The past 6 months of walking down Borgo Pinti almost everyday had taught me that a small café along my route, I Cugini, had a formidable selection of milk products so my milk-focused mind concentrated on my milk-rich destination. As I turned the corner to enter the store, my eyes fixed on the milk bounty, I heard music playing over the speakers. I smiled to myself at the irony as K.D. Lang’s “Constant Craving” blared through the tiny café and knew that destiny had led my footsteps.

Of course, that was just about 15 minutes of my time yesterday and you all have missed way too much for me to linger on all the little details. So, I’ve decided to backtrack a little to catch you all up on what you missed since my last regular entry way back in November when my blood pressure was up, my heart was working over time and academic success seemed little more than a dream.

I guess I should start by telling you all that contrary to what seemed possible at the time, I somehow managed to make it through to the symposium, but not before I got there, I had some trips to go on… since my life here is so rough after all. In November, after the Maltese adventure, I went to Urbino (ridiculously beautiful), and Chris and I went to Lucca (ditto), Fiesole (nice, close-to-home destination), and lovely Paris.

Ciambella and I tagged along with the Masterpieces class to Urbino, since we were after all the understudies to the TAs, the Quiet One and the Quieter One. I couldn’t believe how beautiful it was. And it wasn’t just Urbino that we saw. We also went to Arezzo, Monterchi, San Sepolcro, and Rimini. This trip is called the “Piero Pilgrimage” in honor of 15^th century artist, Piero della Francesca. Highlights for me, however, included seeing Rosso Fiorentino’s Deposition in San Sepolcro and the never-ending meal provided as a perk of the trip. The weather was gorgeous and the sites were even better. It was a wonderful trip.

Though Chris wasn’t able to tag along to Urbino, don’t feel sorry for him. He got his share of traveling. We took a day trip to Lucca, which is a town not too far from Pisa. There’s not a whole lot there except a couple medieval towers (one with trees growing from the top of it), ramparts surrounding the city where people, aka us, can rent bikes and ride around for hours, and sheer beauty.

Lucca sits right in the middle of a valley and the views are stunning. We really hit the jackpot when it came to the weather that day. It was absolutely perfect. We spent about an hour riding bikes and playing at one of the many playgrounds on the ramparts before heading off to explore the city some more.

By the time the sun was low in the sky we found ourselves on top of one of the city’s towers enjoying the view as the sun slowly dipped behind the mountains. Ahhh… Lucca will also be perfect in my mind.

On a lazy Saturday, Chris and I hopped on the bus and headed 20 minutes out of Florence to the little town of Fiesole. Fiesole is known as being the location of the original Etruscan settlement here in the area and they have a really nice archeology museum and an amphitheater to show for it. It also has a great Romanesque church. I can see the church’s bell tower when I walk down Borgo Pinti on my way to school, assuming, of course, that the weather isn’t too rainy or too hazy. Perhaps what Fiesole is best know for is the view it offers of the Florence. For an only mostly painful climb, visitors can gaze out over the city in all its glory. Chris and I enjoyed our few hours up there for yet another well-worth-it excursion.

Our major trip of November, other than Malta obviously, was to Paris. We left late on a Thursday night on the overnight train and arrived behind schedule the next morning in a whole new country. Like all of the school trips we went on, it was a whirlwind adventure. Our trip was off to a rocky start when we first arrived at our hotel to find that none of the rooms were ready. Oh, no, there weren’t people still sleeping. No, ladies and gentlemen, there were no beds. At least, not yet. The hotel had chosen that weekend to replace every bed in the hotel (nice by the time nightfall came around—I mean, when can you sleep in full confidence that your hotel bed isn’t full of gross strangers’ germs?). Keep in mind that this was not a small group of people. There were about 50 of us.

So we waited as long as we could before we all headed off to our first stop of the trip: the Louvre. The Louvre never fails to impress. I am not one of those people who says, “skip the Louvre, go to the Musee d’Orsay!” Oh, no. I say, “Do both!” On this trip, however, the Musee d’Orsay was a sacrifice that had to be made for it was the Louvre all the way. And it was incredible as always. Not the least of which because I got to lecture. That’s right, my friends, little ole’ Sarah got to lecture in the Louvre like a big girl. It was great.

Now the Louvre I’d seen, but the trip was full of plenty of new things for me. We went to Sainte-Chapelle (OH MY GOSH! SO BEAUTIFUL!) where we were blown away by stain glass windows at their finest and greeted by fresh snowfall as we exited. We went to Notre Dame—okay, I’d been there before, but when we went there was a mass going on so it was new in a way. The second day of our trip was spent out at Chartres Cathedral where we all froze as we marveled at the beauty before hopping back on the train and making our way to the Palace of Versailles. While at Versailles we were treated to a Jeff Koons exhibit featuring the more famous Michael Jackson and Bubbles sculpture, but the more inventive and delightful Giant Balloon Dog sculpture.

While others dawdled at the Palace, Chris and I, being familiar of the fate of the palaces’ last residents, high-tailed it out of there as the sun began to fall. We weren’t running away from a crown of angry peasants with pikes, we had a date with Jim Tressel and the Ohio State Buckeyes.

For the big OSU-stupid Michigan showdown, Chris and I made our way to The Great Canadian for some beer and football (after a frantic call to my mom in the States to look up the address for us). Upon our arrival we found a table for two right in front of a beautiful flat screen TV and surrounded by a bunch of sorry looking turds wearing maize and blue. (Hold on… Ok. I’m back. I just got sick for a moment at the thought of it.) You all doubtless remember the glorious outcome: OSU 42, Michigan 7.

Chris and I celebrated by taking a stroll through lovely, though cold, Paris and I got to do something I’d always wanted to do: see Christmas lights on the Champs Elysees. The Paris revelry couldn’t last forever and by Sunday evening we were back on the overnight train zipping across the countryside to Florence and reality.

Needless to say, November was a bit hectic for me.

Symposium

The fun wasn’t all I did at the end of the year. You all may remember that I had that pesky thing called a thesis hanging over my head and making me crazy. In fact, my train ride back from Paris was not a good time, but who wants to hear about me having an emotional breakdown in the midst of motion sickness in the dining car of a dirty train at 1am? Let me just say that despite what I thought was going to happen, I made it through and on December 12 I presented my paper, “The Gesture of Silence: A Transformation in Form and Meaning in Late Medieval Italian Art.”

It was the culmination of a year’s worth of research, translation, thinking, writing, and stress. Admittedly it wasn’t exactly what I was hoping for in the end, but none of that really mattered by the time 2:45pm rolled around on the 12^th of December. The elation of finishing overshadowed any reservations I had about my research itself, if only for the day. The symposium went well, without any major drama. Our “class photo” shows off not only our gestures, but also our personalities perfectly.

Aside from being able to check three things off my “Things to do before I die” list (live in Italy, learn a foreign language, earn a Masters degree) the symposium was made extra special by the presence of my parents, who had flown over for the event.

Chris and I had been showing them around town since they had arrived, but the end of the symposium meant the end of my obligations to school and my freedom to travel. I continued my Italy boot camp with my parents with a trip to Rome, stopping in Orvieto on the way down and Assisi on the way back. It was so wonderful being able to share this amazing place that I’ve been greedily enjoying for the past year with people so special to me.

We had hoped for a quick trip up to Venice, but the acqua alta, the high water, had flooded the city. It was just as well, I think. We were all completely drained by the end of it all. By the time we got back to Florence there were just a few days left before my parents said goodbye and Chris and I finished packing up La Scala for our big move.

The big move…

Ok. So maybe “the big move” is a little melodramatic. We really just moved a few blocks away, but you have to remember that it was down 14 miles from the dizzying heights of La Scala to street level and then a couple blocks over. We moved to the house formerly know in this blog as Casa di Festa, now affectionately named Casa di Carciofi, or House of Artichokes (there’s an artichoke consumption problem in the house). And that is how Ciambella, Chris and I came to live with Vanessa Avery.

Our new digs were a big change from our old ones. For starters, there’s only one level, about half the steps to reach the door, there are two bathrooms, we can hear the river from our room, and the rooms are more spacious, except—and this is a big except—the kitchen. Our refrigerator, which serves 4 people, is approximately 3 feet tall and 2.5 feet wide. We are absolutely unable to make ice in our “freezer” and stuffing our groceries in has really proven to be one of life’s mysteries. In fact, fitting more than 2 people in the kitchen is one of life’s mysteries.

Anyway, we didn’t have much time to settle in. After all our bags were lugged over there, Chris and I enjoyed our last meal at La Scala of one chocolate covered pretzel, about one glass of orange juice, one piece of jam with toast, a little bit of milk, and about half a bag of weird potato chips. Not my most impressive culinary creation, but it worked out just fine.

Before we knew it, the time had come to say goodbye to La Scala. Goodbye to the rooftops, our cat friends, the brilliant sunrises in the kitchen, the sweet smells of pastries wafting into the windows, the Sunday afternoon Mexican fiestas, the bongo drums, the slippery stairs, and all those other little things that made La Scala La Scala. We hopped in our cab and headed off to the airport, never to climb the dreaded steps again.

What we were leaving was a year full of memories, good and bad. What we were headed to was home, comfort, friends, family, real American food, and Christmas.

To be continued…

Ok. So I know I said that there were going to be updates–and there will!–but not yet. I’m having some more technical difficulties (it’s what I do) and I can’t post any pictures right now so… you’ll have to wait a little longer. I’m beginning to think that me and this website thing and not meant to be.

Hopefully this will be only a short delay.

Ok. So I know it’s been…uh…ages since I wrote last. Like many of you already know I’ve had some computer problems. It all began back in February when my computer, Mp3 player, and Chris’ camera all died within about a week of each other. (Actually the Mp3 player and the camera broke on the same day. Weird.) Anyway, because of that I was in a bit of a pickle when it came to writing my blog. This is super unfortunate since my first four months back here in Italy provided me with lots of great material. Again, like most of the world knows by now, Chris and I are expecting a little bundle of poo sometime around the end of October. That in and of itself would have provided enough fodder to fill volumes of daily life anecdotes, but I also spent my time back here working as a teaching assistant, an experience endlessly rich in quirky stories and silly mishaps.

But alas… it just wasn’t meant to be.

Now I find myself in my new apartment (since January)—no more La Scala—with a new roommate—Ciambella remains, but we’ve added Vanessa Avery—a growing belly, a future that looks dramatically different than it did this time last year, and just under 8 weeks before I head out and leave my beautiful home away from home, Italy.

So much for a “silly little girl’s year in Italy.” Now it’s become “a year and then some, well, at least the last 8 weeks of it.” So here we go again…

Sorry it’s been such a long time since I’ve posted anything last.  I’m sad to say it will be a while longer.  Things have picked up here and I’m spending most of my time trying to stay sane…and not doing a very good job of that!  So, hang in there.  I have been writing a bit and one of these days I’ll let you know what I’ve been doing.  Only 16 days to the symposium.  Ugh.

Day 1—Saturday, November 1, 2008

Once upon a time in a country far, far away…

four princess grad students and one handsome prince librarian set off on an amazing journey. They left the comfort of their everyday lives to trek off into the unknown, without any real sense of direction or purpose, driven only by the call of the wild and the desire for adventure. The words of the great American poet Jimmy Buffet rang in their ears like a mantra on a loop, “changes of latitude, changes of attitude, changes of latitude, changes of attitude…” A magic train took them with relative speed and grace to the Kingdom of the Leaning Tower, called Pisa in the vernacular, from whence they boarded a magic flying machine made of Lego blocks and sponsored by IKEA. Legend has it that this Lego mechanical bird is believed to be one of the illusive Ryan Air planes, but legends, as we all know, should be approached with caution.

With the closing of the door the four princess grad students and the one handsome prince librarian knew that there was no turning back. The mechanical bird reached up into the sky with its Lego wings. It soared over the east coast of the country of pizza, pasta, and dog poop-covered sidewalks, Italy they say, as it flew with majesty brought to you by the good people of IKEA. The strange creatures that lived inside the mechanical bird offered snacks, drinks, and lottery tickets, all at a bargain basement price, as the foreign land approached.

An old pirate with the wisdom of the seas in his eyes and the smell of whiskey in his breath sat like a moss-covered rock next to the handsome prince. Led by his aquiline nose, he slowly turned his wrinkled face, grinned a four-toothed smile and hissed with spit-laden words, “I—am—Jimmy!! Drunk Scotsman and Malta man!” His words cut through the oxygen-depleted air with laser-like precision. The princess next to the handsome prince pretended to be asleep—it was her only defense. The handsome prince was thus left to face the pirate alone. He clutched his book in his hands and didn’t dare to remove his magic music-playing ear buds. Jimmy the Drunk Scotsman Pirate was undeterred.

“Aye! I can tell ya ‘bout Malta! Argh! Today be but a feast day—yar!—and tomorrow is but a Sunday! Don’t be expectin’ to find yee fun these tryin’ days!”

Spit flew with every word.

“I would but drive yee in mee pirate jeep, but alas!… I can only store four more stowaways. So I be givin’ ya some advice—listen to mee words! Tharr be these creatures, the mystical taxis of Malta, but they be but common thieves, they be! Don’t be givin’ them more then 25€ for da bunch of ya. Take mee advice! They will cheat ya! So don’t be givin’ them more then 40€ for da lot ‘a ya. Like I be saying, don’t give ‘em a penny over 50 or 60€ for da whole of ya. This be da truth! Listen to Jimmy!”

Jimmy rose from his seat and stretched his leathery neck over the heads of the three other princesses. Like one of those scary raptors in Jurassic Park, Jimmy’s dinosaur head swiveled as his inspected the oblivious princesses. “Aarrrr!” He hissed. Looking at Princess Lara he astutely observed, “Yee be but a slight laddi! I could stow yee in me trunk!” The threat of kidnapping concerned the handsome prince, but he remained frozen in the confusion left in the wake of Jimmy the Drunk Scotsman Pirate.

The mechanical bird began its decent. Out the window the princess could see the blue of the great Mediterranean Sea give way to jagged limestone cliffs, green fields, and clusters of villages. The land grew closer and closer until—WHA-BAM!—the mechanical IKEA bird smacked into the ground with force. (Jimmy was shocked and commented on the landing to everyone around him.)

Suddenly and without warning violence broke out in the rear of the bird as another adventurer challenged one of the mechanical bird’s inhabitants to a dual. She stepped away from her snack cart and rolled up her blue and yellow Lego sleeves, readying herself for a fight. (To this day the standoff is known in Maltese folklore as the Great IKEA/Lego standoff of 2008. Grandfathers shudder when telling the tale to children and mothers hide their babies at the slightest hint that the story will be recounted.)

After freeing themselves from the carnival of the Lego bird the four princesses and the handsome prince found themselves in the land of their destiny—Malta. Jimmy the Drunk Scotsman Pirate had vanished, for the better, the adventurers agreed. One step onto the foreign land brought on the mystical creatures called taxi drivers. Against their will, the four princesses and the one prince were forced to divide their forces into two mystical taxis and just like that it was off to the exotic, I mean, semi-exotic, well, not really exotic at all actually, Alexandra Castle, their home for the next three nights.

Driven by the need for sustenance, the four princesses and one prince were soon off in search of food. Unfamiliar with the customs of this strange land of Malta, they wondered, “Will we be able to find food? Will we be forced to kill our own food? Can we drink the water?” There questions were answered in the form of a restaurant called Huggies or Hammies or something like that… anyway, there was food. They split Fish and Chips and Mexican food—like you do—and washed it all down with a grog called Cisk.

Mustering what feeble strength they had, the band of adventurers set off to explore the storied mall of the Bay Street Complex in search of knick knacks and skinny pants. The lure of foreign fruits like gummy bears and chocolate-covered peanuts wooed them into submission. Princess Lara and Princess Sarah faced off in a brutal battle to the death—er, I mean battle to 7—of air hockey, a typical Maltese pastime. Years spent at the land of Chuck-e-Cheese had prepared Princess Sarah for her moment of glory as she won a convincing victory, scoring 7 to 4 over the previously-establish slight laddie, Princess Lara. After the day’s exertions, the band of adventurers retired to the Castle for the night.

Day 2—Sunday, November 2, 2008

The adventures met in the banquet hall at 8:30am for their morning feast of weird egg thing, not-exactly sausage sausage, oranges, odd cereal, horrifying coffee, and super-sweet honey. It was almost appetizing.

A fairy working at the front desk guided the adventures to the magic transportational vehicle with the perplexing directions, “go to the Temple of the Burger King and turn left.” It was the storied autobus number 68 that took the adventurers to the fabled harbor where another ferry, this one spelled differently than the one working at the front desk, took them to the far away land of Gozo and the infamous Pirate harrrbor of Mgarrrr. The four princesses and one prince knew the trip would be trying. They followed in the tradition of many an adventurer before them like St. Paul and Caravaggio. The marks of previous adventurers could be seen all around them: watchtowers and souvenir shops and exotic restaurants like the Scottish chain McDonalds, the subterranean Subway, and the Hut of Pizza.

Danger lurked at every turn as the adventurers were ambushed by more mystical taxi drivers. They fought off all advances until they were approached by a learned wizard named Joey. Princess Steph put up the bravest fight, screaming “NO!” to the wilily cabbie, but even the powerful Princess Steph found herself, like Eve in the garden of Eden, submitting to the silver-tongued lure of temptation disguised as the charming and short Gozitano cabbie, Joey.

And just like that the adventurers were kidnapped by Joey who shoved them into his mechanical steed. He spoke with the confounding mystery first encountered in the elusive words of Jimmy the Drunk Scotsman Pirate.

“I will take you to the temples.” (Notice: this was not a request. This was an order.) “You will see it and then I will take you to other places.” (More commands. What is one to do when one has been absconded, but to agree?)

The adventurers were swept off to Calypso’s Cave, which according to clever Joey was just a dark hole in the ground not worth seeing. On a clear day you can see Sicily from the hilltop, however. It was not a clear day. Thus, the adventurers did not see Sicily. Joey than ordered the captives back to the mechanical steed.

“I have this thing to do,” Joey said. “So I take you to the temples and you will see them and the windmill. Then I come back at half one. If I am 5 minutes late, you wait me. Ok? I must do this thing. I come back 15 minutes late you wait me.”

Princess Mary foolishly asked what the rest of the adventurers wanted to do with our time at the temple and the windmill, provoking Joey. “Look! Please let me do this thing! I come back for you!”

So the adventurers went to the temples and the windmill as ordered. Joey was on time, but they wait him nonetheless. The adventure continued.

First order of business was a horse thing. “I found a thing for a horse,” Joey announced after we all piled into the mechanical steed. He then zoomed away with magical Joey powder billowing out behind him. Joey and the adventurers flew through the streets of Gozo in search of a horse, perhaps a unicorn, so that Joey could unburden himself of the thing for a horse that he found. When a deserving horse presented itself Joey slammed on the breaks and skidded to the side of the street before shooting out of the mechanical steed. He bolted around to the other side where the handsome prince was sitting and reached into the window, grabbing a saddle-like thing from the area just behind his head. It was saddle-thing number 6, apparently, since a bold “6” was stretched across its side. With a frenzy of excitement, the horse thing was given to the man with the horse and just like that the adventurers were off again, into the unknown.

Joey ordered the captive adventures that the next stop would be the far off land of the Azure Window, a kingdom of the sea. He took them at almost incomprehensible speeds through the neighboring countryside, careful to avoid any pesky bird watchers (they’re such a nuisance), until arriving at a small fishing town populated by men with boats. The king of the town had a very peculiar fashion sense.

“You take this boat, take pictures, and I wait you,” were the instructions from the cabbie wizard.

So that’s what the adventurers did.

At the end of a long plank they were ushered onto a small green, yellow and white boat, each taking their seat in turn as ordered. What awaited them was a delight of a lifetime. The small boat moved toward a fissure in the rock cliff ahead. The dark navy blue of the rock contrasted the glimmering blue-green of the water below. Small puffs of white sprayed at the sides of the boat with every bounce. The boat entered the rock, bringing the travelers into a dark cave world where the water seemed to produce a light all its own. At the other end of the cave was a blinding bright white window. It was the gateway to another world altogether.

Passing into the whiteness, the world transformed into the sea with an endless horizon stretched straight ahead. The travelers frantically snapped pictures in order to document the unknown environment. Shades of translucent greens gave way to unearthly blues in the water below them. The clarity of the sea floor shocked them and the surreal beauty of it all overwhelmed. The old sea captain, we’ll call him Mr. Riggles for no reason at all, pointed out the highlights in the already stunning beauty around them: The Azure Window, the Fungus Rock (Really. I didn’t make that up.), the face in the Cliffside. Each delighted the enraptured travelers. They gawked and giggled with every turn of their heads. Mr. Riggles was bored with the whole thing, but did manage to show moments of personality.

The small adventure lasted no more than 20 minutes, but was rewarding in more ways than the travelers could have ever anticipated. After disembarking from the boat they were soon back in the clutches of Crazy Joey and were off and on their way.

Joey next deposited the adventurers in a small fishing village where they were left to pillage for food. Well, actually that’s a bit of an exaggeration. Joey left the hungry travelers in a small restaurant most likely owned and operated by Joey’s kin where they proceeded to eat fish (chicken for the seafood sensitive princess). They watched the life of the village pass by them until the time came when Joey ordered them back into the mechanical steed. More adventures awaited.

The adventures were then entrusted with their most dangerous task: storming the citadel of Victoria. They broke through the citadel walls where they ran amok through a church before fighting their way through a thicket of cacti and finally surmounting the citadel walls. From this vista they could see their conquered territory. They frolicked in the citadel, flaunting their victory, and made a mockery of the weaponry. It was very windy.

Soon the time came for the adventurers to say goodbye to the exotic land of Gozo. They rode the elusive 25 bus to Mgarrrr where the water ferry carted them across the treacherous waters to the land of Malta. It was windy there too.

That night, after three of the princesses retired for the evening, the handsome prince and his bride enjoyed a lovely dinner and then fell asleep during a terrible film. Things are crazy on Malta.

Day 3—Monday, November 3, 2008

The next morning the adventures went to the Burger King and turned left, making a quick stop at the Adult Meeting Point. You know, like you do. The magic bus took them across the island to the far off capital of Valetta. The bus arrived in a square full of other odd buses and men wearing waaaay too much gold jewelry. Leaving the bustling city square the travelers took refuge in the Church of Whatever it was called, once sanctuary to the fabled Knights of Malta. They gazed in wonder at marvelous works of art by Caravaggio as a voice spoke to them in the magic auditory tour-aid device.

Next it was off to the confounding Paul’s Shipwreck Church. Once a place of holy introspection, now a church/Daytona Beach-style carnival red drapery extravaganza. To escape the madness of the tacky church the adventurers ran away to eat Maltese hamburgers, which are really just like regular hamburgers except that they are made in Malta. Then they went back in time to the land of the Romans. (Everyone with me so far? This is all true.) Before they knew it, it was time to leave and return to the land of St. Julian and the Alexandra Castle.

On the way back, three princesses and the one prince freed themselves from the clutches of the bus to frolic along the water’s edge. The handsome prince, vowing to fight the evil sea monster, leapt into the water. Princess Lara found a comfortable spot on the rocks next to a trash can and contemplated the intelligence of this plan. Princess Steph giggled. Princess Sarah rode a pig. It was all very exciting and dangerous… really. The prince emerged from the water after slaying the sea dragon and it was time to retire to the castle.

Sea monsters lurked in the rooftop pool prompting the princesses to don their swimsuits and climb to the top of the castle. Once there the danger of the situation became apparent. The room was dark—the lights too frightened to turn on. Random passers-by saw the sight and ran away. The princesses simply jumped in like idiots, giggling and splashing around like fools. You know, gallows humor and all that. Turn out the most dangerous thing was Princess Lara’s triple sal-cal which she performed with daring and executed with perfection.

The water battle brought on hunger. After enjoying a lazy dinner in the company of greedy cats and bratty children at the world-renowned Raffaello restaurant on the water’s edge, the adventures said their last goodnight to the island of Malta. My, that food was good, but it was filling!

Day 4—Tuesday, November 4, 2008

Realizing that there were still dangerous sea monsters lurking in the water, the four princesses set off for the infamous St. George’s Bay first thing in the morning. Well, maybe not the first thing, but it was no later than the fifth thing in the morning.

The sun applauded their courage as it shined brightly down on their backs. Good thing, too, since the water was not exactly warm. Princess Lara attacked the water like a spider monkey and continued performing dangerous water acrobatics while the other princesses wondered if she had gone mad. Since the Lego/IKEA mechanical bird was leaving the island at noon, the princesses cut their sea monster fighting to little more than 20 minutes before returning to the castle.

The four princesses and one prince said adieu to the island of Malta and made the treacherous journey across the island, clawing their way by bus, by donkey, by pogo stick to the mechanical bird’s nest known to locals as the Malta International Airport. The Lego/IKEA bird was late and the travelers grew quarrelsome and bored. The sun had long-since retreated, taking their energy and good spirits. Princess Mary showed impressive resilience when she paraded through the mechanical bird’s nest wearing her new Octopus Stew Recipe apron.

Before too long, perhaps unfortunately, the Lego/IDEA bird arrived and the adventurers were on their way back to the hum drum of grey Florence. Poor adventurers. To have to return to Italy. Ew. How horrible.

And so concludes the Maltese adventure. What do they say?

“And they all lived happily ever after.”

Our Anniversary (October 26): I know I covered this in my last posting, but I had some pics to share. Before Chris and I went out for our anniversary dinner we hiked up to Piazza Michelangelo to enjoy the view of beautiful Florence laid out before us. The city, like so many cities, is so beautiful at night and from a little bit of a distance. It twinkles with the street lights and car lights, the sounds are muffled, and you can’t see all the dog poop on the sidewalks. The night of our anniversary, the bells rang continuously for about 10 minutes. It may not have been in celebration of our anniversary, but I suspect it was. Around Florence, Chris and I are big stars. After dinner we took a picture of ourselves since we are such ego maniacs. Here, for your viewing pleasure, is our 6^th anniversary commemorative photo.

Catgate 2008: Not to be outdone by last week’s feline fireworks, Big Jim stopped by for a few minutes of kitty lovin’ Monday night. He is such a big, cuddly purr machine. I wish he would stop by more often. He even offered to help me do the dishes. What a pal.

Chris’ Birthday (October 28): Chris celebrated the day of his birth by being sick and at work—woo-hoo! (For more information on rip-roaring Tangeman festivities please send comments and questions to the writer of this blog.) It rained all day without stop, preventing me, or rather dissuading me, from venturing out into the world for cake mix and candles. Chris went to bed, full of medicine at 8:30 and I treated myself to a movie. And the fun don’t quit…

My thesis: I am proud to announce that my Masters thesis has been submitted to the evaluation committee for review. Now I can’t be sure because I haven’t gotten my feedback yet, but I think it’s not terrible or embarrassing. Barring any surprises I expect to graduate as planned. My submitted title? Reading, Devotion, and the Gesture of Silence. Ciambella took a moment from her brilliant writing rampage to pose for the camera. Notice how she mimics the pose of the Libyan Sibyl pictured on the cover of the book she’s holding. That’s crazy Ciambella… always up to something.

Party Time Italy: Ciambella and I were elated at having turned in our papers. We couldn’t keep our happiness to ourselves, though our colleagues were still working. On the way to lunch on Thursday, Tom poetically captured the sentiments of the rest of the group with he said to Ciambella, “You’re pretty enthusiastic today. I find it @$!#$ annoying, actually.” (Please pardon his French. We’ve all been under quite a bit of stress lately.) Once back on good ole’ Via dei Neri, we stopped by Daniele’s wine shop for a bottle of celebratory wine.

Food: Since I know you all just loooove hearing about what I eat, I can’t help myself from telling you about one of my delicious breakfasts this week. I cut up a pear, poured some niccola (hazelnut) yogurt over it, then a little bit of granola cereal, topped off with a honey drizzle. It was delicious. And pretty, which is something I look for in my food.

Time wasted playing Mahjong: Infinite. That’s right. Like Coolio, I live my life by the code of the funk.

Crazy weather: Italy is at the end of the world right now. We’ve had some exciting weather here in Florence, but they’re getting rocked down in Calabria. There’s been flooding and a lot of damage. I’m hoping the Mediterranean can get its stuff together before we head off to Malta on Saturday. Here in Florence we’ve had some impressive skies. On Thursday, Mary, Tom, Ciambella and I were forced to shield ourselves from the hard, pelting rain as we walked to lunch. This wouldn’t have been particularly noteworthy except that the sky was bright blue with about two clouds and we didn’t know where the rain was coming from. It was so bright we needed sunglasses. Must be global warming…

Tropic Thunder: Since Ciambella and I were such good little grad students and finished our papers a day early we were able to treat ourselves to a viewing of the politically incorrect Ben Stiller flick, Tropic Thunder. We were joined by Chris, Sebastian, Sean, and Vanessa Avery. It was a good time had by all. I laughed so hard I almost barfed. I think my favorite line was, “that smelled like bologna for some reason.” Afterwards we stopped by the Scottish Pub for a pint. Ahhh… sweet release.

Olive News: It’s olive harvesting time again here in Italy. On Thursday I caught Sergio, the man who runs the bar at SUF with his wife Elia, picking olives from the olive tree in the garden. I couldn’t pass up the chance to take a photo. He was so enraged by my request that he started cursing at me screaming “Paparazzi no!” and throwing olives at me. I caught them in my mouth then spit the olive seeds back out at him Bugs Bunny machine gun-style. Sergio was furious. I mean, look at him. He’s got the face of a killer. Ok. That’s not true. Sergio was very sweet, as he always is, and smiled nicely for the camera. The olives were beautiful.

Halloween: Though I wanted to venture out to Devil’s Bridge, a scary, some would say haunted bridge about 20km from Lucca, I opted to stay put in Florence for the day. This year I’m disguising myself as an American grad student living in Italy. My costume’s totally sweet. I wore last week actually. Uh… Ok. I don’t actually have a Halloween costume. We toyed with the idea of having an I Tatti themed Halloween party, but we just didn’t have the time to get it together. Too bad. I was going to be Chris for Halloween this year.

Ok.  So this isn’t a real post.  I haven’t been keeping up with my journal so… well, there it is.  This past week has been pretty busy for me–my thesis is due on Friday!  So, I’ve spent my days stressing out and being really, really sleepy.  Since I’m too lazy to go back in time I figured I would just give you some highlights–in no particular order at all.

My best friend, Erin, had a bouncing baby boy this week!  This tops the weeks news for sure.  Little Matthew Walter “Knuckle Cruncher 3000″ Teeples joined the world on the 23rd.  Mom and baby are recovering nicely from the excitement.  While I was expecting him to weigh something in the ballpark of 4 trillion pounds and come out smoking a stogie and taking a shot of whiskey, I am assured that he was not much over 5lbs and judging from the photo he’s going to be a sweetie.  My most heartfelt congratulations to Mark, Erin, Sasha Dog, Frankie Beans, and the rest of the Teeples/Beaty clan.  I can’t wait to meet the little man in December.

Operation Stop Being a Piggy is going well.  I haven’t indulged my gelato cravings since I decided to try and fight them.  I’ve even gone running a couple of times.  As it turns out running is not a ton of fun, but I’m usually at least sort of happy I went after it’s all over.  This morning I ran up to San Miniato and almost died.  Seriously.  It was really hard.  I don’t think I’m exaggerating at all.

Catgate Update: It’s getting a little crowded up on the rooftops.  Earlier this week Chris and I came home to a girl we didn’t know walking around on the roof looking for her “yellow and brown cat with a red cast.”  At least I was fairly sure that was what she was saying, my Italian isn’t the greatest.  I was concerned that she was talking about Mike the Beast.  Then I became convinced that Mike was dead and got very sad.  Then I realized that she was talking about Little Cat.  (Little Cat who now has a red cast on.)  Little Cat is fine, but a little cabin crazy.  The I saw Mike and found out that he’s alive–yeah!  Then–I hope you’re sitting down–I realized that the cat across the street with John Robie the Cat is not Little Cat at all, but an entirely different cat (no name has yet been given, but I’m thinking “Poser Little Cat”).  Big Jim did not put in an appearance this week, wisely I think.

My 6th anniversary:  Today, Sunday, Chris and I are celebrating our 6th wedding anniversary.  We are celebrating by sitting in the library while I work on my thesis… or take a break to write on my blog.  We are planning to have a nice dinner later on, but for now it is less then exciting.  Hurray us!

Bev’s birthday: Bev, my favorite mother-in-law, celebrated a birthday this week, on the 22nd.  I spoke to her only briefly and realized just about 3.4 seconds ago that I didn’t even say “happy birthday.”  So… ahem… Happy Birthday, Bev!  It may not need to be said that when I spoke to her I was so tired I was a zombie.

Well, that’s a pathetic attempt at doing my week in review, but that’s all I can think of… baby, piggy, cats, birthday, anniversary… yep.  That’s it.  Hope you all had a good week.  I’ll probably be bad again this upcoming week, but just bear with me, after my thesis is turned in my workload should (hopefully) be a little lighter.  Until then, ciao ciao, y’all.

(Oh, do you like my stock photos?)

Life in Italy is not life in Ohio. Inspired by yet another loud, whistle-blowing, chanting, screaming rally, here are some things which I’ve become fairly accustomed to:

Bus and train strikes

Bad service in restaurants

The glorious smell of pastries saturating the air

Boisterous political rallies (especially the commies)

The sound of church bells ringing

Over-priced everything

Having very sore feet

Being surrounded by tourists

Being surrounded by famous artwork

Dog poop all over the sidewalks

Regularly sweeping up pigeon feathers in the apartment, though I’m not entirely sure how they get in there

Eating dinner at 8pm

Having everyday turn out to be a new experience, both scary and delightfully wonderful