Sarahnissima
Italy and such as

Hey, everyone!  Big news!  I’m finally (FINALLY!) putting my portfolio online!  Hurrah!  Took me long enough, huh?  Well, here it is.  It’s not complete as it is, but it’s a start.  Just go to the link to the left under “About Me”.  You’ll see it.  It’s cleverly called “My Portfolio.”  As I finish work I’ll put more up.  I’m also planning on posting a little something about my process in making each piece, as requested.

So check it out!  Feel free to leave comments.  If anyone is dying to buy anything just let me know.

A dopo, amici!

Well, I’m going back to Italy and I’m leaving in less than a week. I certainly never thought for a second that I’d be going back so soon. But then again, I never thought that I would live there in the first place so why am I so surprised?

In my last week before leaving I’m experiencing the usual last-minute panic that all-so-often accompanies a “vacation”. (Notice the quotation marks. I did that on purpose.) I’m trying to figure out what I will want to wear 30 days from now—how could I possibly know that far in advance?–which shoes will be the most comfortable, or more importantly, look the cutest, and exactly what quantity of hair product is worth lugging all the way across the ocean. These are all very important points and should never be taken lightly. Thus, my mind is burdened.

Additionally, there’s the issue of my Livi. On the inside I’m a mess. I’m torn between knowing that this is the right thing to do, both professionally and financially, and the guilt of leaving her for 5 weeks. In my head it is a non-issue, but in my heart… well, this is absolutely terrible. I find myself clutching her with such veracity you’d think we were parting indefinitely. In my head I know she won’t remember a thing, but my heart is afraid she’ll forget me. I know that now her little world revolves around me and I’m terrified of losing that. Needless to say, this trip to Italy is not as much the lighthearted romp as the one I made back in January of 2008.  (Bwah-hahahaha!  Lighthearted romp!  Ha ha!  Yea, right.  Please see entry dated November 15th of 2008.  Oh, wait.  There isn’t one?  Oh, that’s because I having a TOTAL NERVOUS BREAKDOWN!  Lighthearted romp my foot!)

That’s not to say I’m not looking forward to it. When I’m not showering my confused 8-month old with buckets of pitiful tears I’m daydreaming about pistacchio gelato and ka-toms—oh, yes, I’ve resurrected the old “ka-tom”. I’m thinking about hearing the cooing pigeons, the vespas, the church bells… of smelling the paste in the morning and that weird sizzling hot Florence smell that creeps up from behind trashcans and the neat little piles of doggie poop stashed conspicuously around the city. Ok. I’m not looking forward to that one. But you get the picture. It’s the Italy I love so much and it’s right around the corner, whether I’m ready or not.

Right now as I think of all that I love in my bella Firenze I feel a world away. The house is silent courtesy of afternoon naptime and a storm that’s knocked out our electricity. The electrical fireworks outside have died down, mimicking the silence indoors, and now a lazy rain is falling. It looks more like movie rain than anything real. The sky has lightened to a bright white-grey and only the tick-tick-tick of the clock attests to the passing of this moment in time. It’s easy to get lost in daydreams in times like this. I suppose I should be thankful for the stillness for giving me a moment to reflect and reconnect. So, I’m going to go enjoy the stillness now.

Until next time.

Hey, everyone!  It seems that there is actually a time set for the reception of the show: December 19th, from 5:30 until 7pm.  Hope everyone can make it!

Remember, Qwirk Columbus is in German Village at 595 S. Third St. right above G. Michael’s restaurant.  Stop by if you can.  I’d love to see you.  Oh, and Livi will be putting in an appearance too for all of you who have yet to meet her.

If anything changes I’ll let you know!

Ciao, tutti!  I’m back.  Sort of.  This isn’t going to be a normal post, but more shout out to my latest venture: my art show!  Finally, all that work of stretching canvas while 8 months pregnant is paying off!  In the words of Monty Python, “And all the people said ‘yeah’: ‘yeah.’”

So I have work up at Qwirk in German Village in Columbus, Ohio from today (November 24) until December 31.  Qwirk is at 595 S. Third St. right above G. Michael’s restaurant and is open Monday-Friday from 9am to 7pm.  As far as I know anyone can stop in at anytime during the open hours to check out the show, but if I hear otherwise I’ll let you know.  I’ll be having a reception at some time in December too so I’ll let you know when that’s going down once I find out.

Here’s a little preview of the show:

Mercato (Bologna), 2009, 36’x48’, photography/paper collage

Gioielleria (Lucca), 2009, 36’x 48’, photography/paper collage

Gondole (Venezia), 2009, 24’x 48’, photography/paper collage

Pericolo in Morte (Fiesole), 2009, 48’x 24’, photography/paper collage

Oliveto (Vincigliata), 2009, 20’x60’, photography/paper collage

Via Scale 26 (Assisi), 2009, 48’x48’, photography/paper collage

Verre et mousse (Chartre), 2009, 24’x48’, photography/paper collage

Illegale (Perugia), 2009, 48’x48’, photography/paper collage

Why are you leaving me? (Urbino), 2009, 24’x48’, photography/paper collage

If anyone’s dying to buy one of these (har har), just let me know.  So that’s what I’ve been up to since I’ve been back here in the States.  Oh, that and the whole baby thing.  I’ll have a baby update one of these days.  In the meantime, this is my big news.  Stop by and check out the show if you’re in town and I’ll let you all know once I have the date of the reception.

Until next time… a dopo!

Well, I’m home now, back in the land of the free, but that doesn’t mean the funs gotta stop.  I still have some updates to finish and something tells me I’ll have some blog-worthy things happening in my life in the upcoming months. So… keep on checking back for updates.  They’ll be arriving tra poco.

Sorry about the delay.  Let’s blame it on jet lag.

A dopo.

This just in…

Two noteworthy things happened today on my way to work this morning.  First, as I was crossing the Viale I got stuck in the central section of crosswalk, like I always do (the light is waaaay too short), and when I reached my stopping point I realized that I was in good company.  There were two other women standing at the line with me, both super pregnant.  This is not terribly surprising since at the corner of the Viale and via degli Artisti is the Villa Donatello, the clinic where I (and apparently other pregnant women) have to go for ultrasounds.  Oh, I wondered what it must have looked like to the drivers flying by.  When the light changed the pregnant lady brigade marched across the road in perfect, giant-bellied unison, a true force to be reckoned with.  It made me laugh.

And it put me in a great mood.  What reinforced my great mood was the second noteworthy thing that happened on the way to school today.  Today I saw, for the first time in weeks, my old friend, Asian Brad Pitt.  Ok.  So he’s not actually my friend and I don’t really know why I call him Asian Brad Pitt.  He’s an on-again/off-again member of the Borgo Pinti Players (I realize I haven’t introduced you to them yet, but I will).  I guess he reminds me of Brad Pitt because he always has that squinty-eyed look on his face that Brad Pitt always has, you know, like he’s holding in a fart or something.  Asian Brad Pitt peddles around the city, or more specifically the via degli Artisti/Borgo Pinti circuit, on his bike and it’s his bike riding that brings me such pleasure.  You see, he doesn’t have a bell on his bike so he improvises by tooting (no pun intended) “Boooop” softly every time someone is in his way.  If they don’t hear him the first time, which they never do because it sounds nothing like a bell, he toots twice “Boooop, Boooop.”  This situation almost invariably leads to frantic tooting on his part as the oblivious walkers in front of him wonder where that glorious sound is coming from.  It is one of my favorite things to witness in this entire city.  Today not only did I get to see him again and remember all the past tootings, but I was also treated to a sweet “Boooop” as two little old ladies blocked the sidewalk.

Ahhhh, Florence.  It was a great walk to work.

July 15, 2009

When I was walking to work today I was passed by a woman who was grinning from ear to ear.  There was something so peaceful in her expression and I wanted so badly to know what she was thinking of.  I could have stopped her and asked, but I decided that it would be better to imagine what it must have been…

She had been in the grocery store, Standa probably, reaching for a bunch of perfectly ripe, bright yellow bananas when her hand brushed up against another.  She started and looked up.  It was that cute boy she always sees carrying a guitar and walking down her street.  Her breath caught in her throat, her heart skipped.  Suddenly she realized that the look in his eyes was the same as hers, recognition.  And not just any recognition, but the kind when you finally see what you’ve been looking for for so long.  She softened her tense face.  His lips parted and he softly said as she gazed into his eyes, “take them, I’d rather have these green ones over here.”  Then he threw his basket on the ground and she hers, as they embraced with burning passion, kissing the type of kiss which only comes from true love. They tried to pull themselves together once they became aware of all the little old ladies staring at them.  They would see each other again.  Her heart fluttered at the encounter and she played the moment over and over in her mind as she walked down Borgo Pinti.

Either that or she just farted by accident.

Updatepalooza 2009 continues…

April

With the start of April it was back to business as usual. It was my last month working as a teaching assistant, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t busy. But, to be honest, I was much less than busy than I had been the month before. Once I got past Urbino I was pretty much in the clear when it came to my work load. There was another exam for the class on the 1^st, and I had my usual site visits, but no more major obstacles to hop over.

My students–even the boys–were so excited for me and the baby.  I got tons of questions on each site visit, 90% of which concerned the baby and not the art we were looking at.  It was nice to be able to share my new experience with them.

On the travel front, my father-in-law came into town for a visit. Unfortunately, though I wasn’t as busy as in March, I was too busy to take off around the Europe with Chris and Ed when they went to Bratislava, Vienna, and Budapest. I had to content myself with a quick over night trip to Venice, where they hopped a flight to Eastern Europe.

Venice

On Friday, April 3 we all took the Altavelocita from Florence to Venice for our one-night stay. As always, Venice made me so happy. There’s just something about that place. It’s so magical. I love my Serenissima. We took Ed to San Marco, up on the roof to see the fake horse outside and the real ones inside, to the Palazzo Ducale, and to some other places. It doesn’t matter what you do in Venice, it’s always guaranteed to please. Actually, I take it back. Eating in Venice is not guaranteed to please.

On our second day in Venice we saw some more sights. Just as we were finishing lunch (did not please), I said my goodbyes to Ed and Chris who were off for their flight (please see Chris’ blog for more info… once he gets to it) and met up with Steph who was there with the High Renaissance class for which she was the TA. She had just finished up for the day so it worked out really well.

She stopped for some lunch and I joined her for tiramisu. It did please. Then we went on a search for an elusive Pontormo painting called A Portrait of Two Friends that is supposedly at the Cini Collection, not far from the Guggenheim Museum. Steph had checked on the hours and actually verified the opening times with a worker at the collection, but when we were there the door was most definitely shut. It was disappointing. It’s always nice to see a Pontormo.

So with no Pontormo under our belts we moved on. We stopped in San Zaccaria to see the beautiful altarpiece by Giovanni Bellini of the Virgin and Child with Saints and then went on to the Campo SS Giovanni e Paolo to see the famous statue by Andrea Verrocchio of Bartolomeo Colleoni, the famed Venetian condottiero, or military mercenary leader. Yeah, it’s pretty nice. We were just happy that we got there. Sometimes the streets of Venice can be a bit confusing, to say the least.

After that fun it was time to head to the Santa Lucia train station for our trip back. We sat with several of Steph’s students, which was nice. I always enjoy hearing about their experiences. Plus they saved me from a very strange, very annoying Italian guy who wanted to talk to me about beauty, French poetry, and God. I didn’t want to talk to him about anything. It wasn’t until I subtly (or not so subtly) mentioned that I was thinking about my husband and our unborn child that he got the picture and left me alone. Ahhh… what can you do? It’s Italy.

Volterra

The next week, on the 9^th, I took another trip. This one was a little closer to home. I went to the beautiful, hilltop town of Volterra with the Captain. It was a trip to see just one thing: the Descent from the Cross by Florentine artist Rosso Fiorentino. You may, but may not, remember that the Captain took me, Ciambella, the Quiet One, and the Quieter One on a trip to see this altarpiece last year, but that by the time we got to Volterra the museum was closed so we never saw it. Well, we got to see it this time and it was even more stunning in person than I could have ever imagined.

Aside from being able to see one of the most impressive works of art I’ve ever seen, along with one truly gorgeous town, I also got my first chance to drive while over here in Italy. I got to drive the Captain’s baby, his silver Porsche Boxster. Gotta say, I kinda liked it. It went really fast, purred like a kitten, and had the smoothest clutch I’ve ever experienced. I mean, don’t get me wrong, it’s no Chevy Cavalier, but it’ll do. More importantly, now I can say that I’ve driven a Porsche at high speeds through the Tuscan countryside.

Mexican Easter

That Sunday, the 12^th, was Easter. Chris and Ed were back from their adventure and the city was preparing for a party. The three of us went to the Piazza del Duomo for the Scoppio del Carro, or the Explosion of the Cart. I went to this last year. It’s where they do a procession from the Baptistery to the Duomo then a dove shoots out of the Baptistery on a zip line to this Chinese-looking cart thing drawn into the piazza by white oxen and then a bunch of fireworks shoot off. Does that sound familiar? It’s one of the many things that has become tradition here in Florence that would never be allowed in the States. I can only imagine how many fire codes it would be breaking back in the US of A. Tons of people crammed into a very small space with lots of fireworks shooting off in all directions. Hum… But it’s a Florentine tradition and I love being a part of it.

The fireworks may have been exciting, but the real treat of the day was Mexican Easter. This was a tradition started last year when it was held at Casa LSD and the menu was enchiladas, chips and salsa, and some very strong sangria. This year, the ladies of Casa dei Carciofi (that’s my house, in case you forgot) were hosting. We had a taco/burrito/nacho bar with all the toppings. We had a great turn out since many of the new grads were there, Laura, her husband Dave, Shannon, and Julia, along with Lydia, SMarch, and Mackenzie.

Julia supplied the nights headlining entertainment: the homemade piñata. She made it by fastening two baskets together with zip ties then wrapping the whole thing in plastic wrap, the a layer of tissue paper. The piñata was suspended by a hook from a bungee cord. Not only was it the most indestructible piñata in world history, but the bungee made for some dangerous thwacking. (Check out the video: watch?v=uamI79_qcNg) Every time it was hit the whole thing would just bounce and bo-oing around for while. Since we didn’t have a baseball bat we used a plastic broom handle. The broom handle did not survive the experience. After some serious abuse and some manipulation on the part of the piñata’s maker, the thing finally gave up its will to live and some delicious, though banged up, chocolate treats spilled forth. And just like that, a new standard in Mexican Easter was set.

Ah, Easter. As Mexican as apple pie.

Baby stuff…

On the 16^th I had my next ultrasound. This one was with Dr. Bigiotti. He’s not my regular doctor because my doctor, the sea bird doctor, doesn’t have the right equipment to do these ultrasounds. This doctor, was really wonderful. Not that she’s not, but he’s just exceptionally nice. He doesn’t really speak any English and my Italian isn’t good enough to cover all the technical terms of that go along with an ultrasound, but it didn’t matter. We managed.

Since Ed was the only grandparent to make the trip to Italy during my pregnancy, he won the right to accompany us for the visit, making him the first grandparent to see my alien friend growing in my belly.

The little one didn’t disappoint. We were all thrilled to learn that everything was looking fine—there were five fingers on at least one hand and the tail was gone. I was so happy to have been able to share that with Grandpa Ed.

Naples and Capri

Seeing the baby in the ultrasound was really just the icing leading up to the cake: the weekend. Chris and I tagged along with the Roman Art and Architecture class on their trip to Pompeii and Herculaneum. They had some other stops along the way so we decided to skip the Rome portion of their trip and head down early on Thursday night to Capri.

We arrived in Naples, seeing the famous Mount Vesuvius for the first time, and found the ferry depot without too much trouble. Our ferry to the island was the last leaving that night and so as we darted off across the water the sun set into the haze.

Our hotel was in Anacapri, the less fashionable city on the island, geared toward the budget-minded traveler, and it took us some time to find it. Well, more specifically, it took us some time to find the buses that would take us to Anacapri from the city of Capri. We walked around in the dark up and down the deserted streets for quite a while. A call to the hotel–and the really grumpy man running the place–was useless. It wasn’t until a not-so-friendly man at a Tabacchi told us where the buses were that we were on the right track. To make a long, frustrating story short, we eventually found the hotel.

Our room was nice enough, not the classiest place, but more than what we needed. We quickly changed clothes and headed off into the very cold night for some dinner at a small, family-owned pizzeria long past its dinner rush. The owner and his (we assumed) daughter were only mildly annoyed that they had be pulled away from CSI: New York to feed the pathetically cold and hungry Americans in the corner. I don’t remember what I ate, but Chris still considers his carbonara pizza to be the best he’s had in Italy. Of course it didn’t really matter what I ate, I was just happy to be eating and not looking for the hotel. Listening to Gary Sinise dubbed in Italian was just a sweet bonus.

The next day, Friday, was when our vacation actually began. I had had visions of swimming in the shining Mediterranean sun in April, but it just wasn’t meant to be. For one thing, the bathing suit I had purchased in Florence when Chris and I were heading down Calzaiuoli on our way to the train station was, uh, a little smaller than I had expected. Like a dumbo I hadn’t tried it on. If I had, I would have seen that the bottoms were so small that I would have to decided which side I wanted to cover, the front or the back, because I certainly couldn’t do both. So, that was out.

Secondly, though the pool looked inviting there was one huge impediment to our enjoyment of it: it was freezing outside! The sun was completely veiled behind the thick layer of fog that clung to the island. Looking out from our balcony we could see the fog blanket dripping over the mountain top. Neither one of us was prepared for this kind of weather.

We weren’t going to let it get us down. We dressed as warmly as we could, which just means we put on everything we brought, and headed out right after breakfast (and right after the rain stopped). Umbrellas in hand we set off to explore this island of Capri that we’d heard so much about.

Our first stop was a nice, casual climb to the top of Monte Solaro. I was really rocking the mountain-climbing gear, I must say. Forget everything else, the thing to keep in mind is that I was wearing brown corduroy ballet slippers that were just a tad bit too small, but super cute. It was a tough climb to say the least, but well worth it.

It took us quite a while and the higher we climbed, the more we immersed ourselves in the fog coverage. It got spookier and spookier. You know how when it snows a really heavy snow the air seems thick and silent? Well, it was like that only we were on top of a mountain and alone… or were we? We kept waiting and waiting for the zombies to come creeping out from behind the trees, but it turned out to be just a couple of German tourists who had followed the fog as well.

By the time we finally reached the summit, the view wasn’t exactly what I know it can be when the weather cooperates, but it was still beautiful. There was something really special about our visit to Capri. Not many people can say they found themselves in total stillness, practically blind, with only the sounds of the ocean waaaay down below and the cackle of seagulls to remind you were you are. It was so surreal.

After a short stint on Fog Mountain we decided to descend back to the land of partial, occasional sunlight. On the way down we ran into a gaggle of my students who just happened to be vacationing in Anacapri that day. I think they followed me like a groupies. I showed off my now-destroyed shoes like a trophy to everyone’s amazement.

We also stumbled upon a nice view of the Marina Grande, the main harbor for the island. The sky was clearing ever so slightly and the water was gorgeous.

We made a quick stop back at the hotel so I could change my tired footwear and then we moved on towards that marina we had just been admiring from afar. The grouchy man at the hotel had made a reservation for us for a cruise around the island so we were off. After a harrowing journey down from the heights of Anacapri to sea level, we picked up our tickets, grabbed some lunch and got ready for the ride.

It was a great trip. I mean, we somehow managed to get on the “All Old People All the Time” tour, but it was nice regardless. The good thing about going on a cruise with a bunch of geriatric Germans is that they don’t do a lot of standing and getting in your way of the view. It was so wonderful. It looked a lot like Malta, actually, with its cliffs and glowing blue-green water. I mean, look at that water!

We weren’t able to go into the Blue Grotto because the seas were too rough, but it didn’t matter, it was amazing. I was so glad we went.  In the picture below you can see the Faraglioni, not the Fragolini, which is the name for these really delicious tiny wild strawberries.  I thought that was the name of this rock structure because they sort of look like upside-down strawberries.  I think the Caprese missed a golden opportunity there.

Once we were anchored back in the marina, Chris and I decided to walk back up to the main city of Capri. It didn’t seem too bad. There was a sign that said “Capri 750 mt” with an arrow pointing up. Hum. How far is 750 meters? Can’t be too far. Ha!

Well, I can honestly say we weren’t cold anymore.

Let’s just say that I thought for the second time that day that I was going to have a heart attack. It was horrible! What were we doing to ourselves? Once we got to the top we decided to take it a little easy (aka. Not climb anymore mountains) and just enjoy the views from the city. It was really beautiful, but after a while we’d seen it all and wanted more. Isn’t that always the way it goes?

So we decided to follow one of the many narrow roads winding out of the city center just to see where it led. We walked and walked. We could see the Amalfi coast from where we were. That’s where we were headed the next day.  In this picture you can see the coast in the distance.

Soon we were on the edge of the island looking down on the Faraglioni, not the Fragolini, which we had not that long before seen by boat.

It wasn’t enough. We kept walking. Against our better judgment, we kept walking down. You see, the problem with this is that in my experience walking down invariably implies walking up at some later time. I prefer to walk up first so as to save the best for last. In this case, however, we ignored that voice inside saying “turn around, you idiots, the farther you walk down the farther you’ll have to walk back up again!” and kept on going.

Then disaster struck. It was payback time.

Steps for as far as the eye could see stretched out before us. It wasn’t long before I was begging for mercy. This was our third mountain of the day. Isn’t there a rule about climbing mountains when you’re pregnant? There should be.

Several hours and 45,000 burned calories later, we finally reached a path that took us the “short” way into town. Enough was enough. It was well past time for dinner and our stomachs were letting hear all about it. So with dinner and a trip back to Anacapri that was how we ended our very busy, very athletic day in Capri.

Saturday morning we got up early and checked out. The very nice woman working at the hotel, the grumpy man’s wife, insisted that we take something with us. I told her that we didn’t have time, that we had a ferry to catch, but she was hearing none of it. She knew I was pregnant (hum… how does everyone know? Oh, that’s right, I tell everyone I see.) and wouldn’t let me or baby go without some food for the road. She packed two warm pastries and two bottles of juice in gift bag, sealed with care, and pressed it into my hands with a smile as warm as the treats it concealed.

We hopped on the bus, made the now-familiar harrowing journey down the mountain side, found the ticket booth, and headed off to await the arrival of our ferry to take us back to the bustling city of Naples.

Once in Naples we got on the earliest bus and took it to the Circumvesuviana train station, where we boarded a train for the Pompeii Scavi, or ruins. It was at the entrance to the ruins that we were scheduled to meet the Roman Art and Architecture class. We arrived in just enough time to grab a bite of over-priced, mediocre food from a very rude server.

As we were sitting there, the bus drove by and we were soon standing with the class waiting to get in. Fortuitously, it was Culture Week and so we all got in for free. Hurrah! It saved us a lot of money and we weren’t expecting it so it was extra wonderful.

Ah, Pompeii… What can I say? There are a few places in this world that I have always wanted to see and Pompeii is one of them. I can honestly say that it didn’t disappoint. It was incredible. I couldn’t believe I was seeing the famous Mount Vesuvius.  When you look at it in the picture here imagine that the top was smooth and came to a point because that’s what it looked like before it blew its top off.  Makes the distruction make a little more sense when you think of it that way.

Everyone thought we were crazy for wearing flip flops to one of the dustiest places I’ve ever been too and we tried to explain what had happened the day before, but alas, I fear we just came across as freaks. As usual.

The trip was amazing, especially since it was a guided tour of the site with a college professor. That’s always handy. It was a long and detailed tour through the streets of Pompeii, a city which was once a bustling town full of people just going about their everyday lives, not knowing how close they were to becoming a part of history. Their mark can still be felt in every corner of the ruined town, despite the tourists.

The professor was a very gracious host and let us tag along on the oh-so-sexy bus (see photo—oh, yeah, it’s “pleasure on wheels”) for the ride from Pompeii to Sorrento, where we stayed for the night.

I wasn’t able to get a room for Chris and I at the same hotel the class was staying at, mainly because I wasn’t willing to pay for it, but I did get us in the Hotel Tourist right down the street. And with a name like the Hotel Tourist, how can you go wrong?

Our room was surprisingly nice considering how little we paid for it. It had a skylight, a big bathroom, and a good-sized balcony that looked out onto someone’s dirty driveway. Well, I guess you can’t have it all. The Important thing is that we slept well after our busy day. Good thing too because there was one more busy day left in our very busy weekend.

We woke up Sunday morning in Sorrento. The breakfast at the Hotel Tourist was pathetic to speak kindly of it. Chris and I were given bread and water, I mean juice, while a group of American students (not with us) got scrambled eggs, bacon, and an assortment of other goodies that would have been nice in our stomachs. I longed for the nice woman in Capri…

After our filling breakfast we headed down the street to meet up with the class. MacKenzie, one of my students who happened to be on the trip, earned a little extra credit when she ran back to the breakfast room to steal me some fruit from their 4-star bounty. Then it was back onto the bus, winding along the coast from Sorrento back north to Naples and our first stop of the day: the Villa Oplonti.

This was one of those places where I’m certain I would never had seen had I not gone with a class. It was really out of the way and well worth it. Like the ruins we had seen the day before, the Villa Oplonti had been covered beneath the ash of the erupting Mount Vesuvius on my birthday, August 24, 79AD. Ok. So I wasn’t born in 79AD, but 1900 years later… boom! There I was. And also, like the ruins we saw the day before, it was stunning.

In one of the rooms you could see where the lava flow had seeped into the home. Even with Chris for scale I don’t think the picture can really communicate how overwhelming the sensation of standing next to such a massive natural force was.  The lava flow was impressive too.  (Ba dum dum.)

I was also really amazed by the incredible frescoes on the walls. The bright colors, the naturalistic perspective, the relatively good state of preservation… it was phenomenal. These people really knew how to paint up a room rill purdy.

Our rainy visit to the Villa Oplonti was a short one and soon we were off to Herculaneum, the other major city destroyed back in 79AD. Herculaneum was much smaller than Pompeii, it’s less visited, and perhaps for both of these reasons it seemed a little more special to me. I remember once years ago watching a program where they were talking about the discovery of 150 bodies huddled in the arcade of what used to be the city’s harbor. At the time that I saw that program I formed an idea in my head of what it must look like, this ancient harbor, but seeing it in person still surprised me, as it almost always does.

You can see the harbor in the picture below. You have to know that where we see a wall (on the right side) they once saw the seashore. Over time the sea has moved farther and farther out. So that grassy patch would have been the beach. Behind the harbor you can see the buildings rising up toward town, layer by layer. Because of the way in which the city was destroyed, which was different than at Pompeii–faster and hotter, Herculaneum is in an amazing state of preservation. It really felt like people still lived there.

We had a little friend that lightened the somber mood of the day. He was a little wild dog that lives there in the ruins. One of the students befriended him and after that we were never without him. We would think he was gone, then—bang!—he would shoot out from behind a partial wall or a door-less frame. He even selflessly peed on a fountain during one lecture to illustrate the point the professor was making about the waterworks that existed in the town.  I think we were all beginning to think that he would be making the trip all the way back to Florence by the way he followed us to the exit, clearly sad to see his new friends leave and looking for just a little more play time.  But his home is way more fun for a wild dog than Florence could ever be.

Once back in Naples, the professor opted for taking the class to a pizzeria in lieu of the Archeological Museum. It was a tough choice, but when you’ve had three (they were in Rome the day we were in Capri) very hectic days of class sometimes you have to admit defeat and go eat some pizza. He figured, I think rightly, that they were all too brain dead to walk through a museum and get anything out of it anyway. So it was off to lunch where we all sat down for some real Napolitano pizza. It was good, but I’ve made better at home. (wink wink)

Chris and I rode with the class on the Sexy Bus back to the train station where we said our goodbyes and thank yous. Then we set out for our missed destination: The Archeological Museum. There were a lot of treasures in this museum, but by far the most macabre was the installation of plaster cast skeletons from Herculaneum, frozen in time as they were on the beach trying to flee the volcano’s violently hot wrath. Ew.

After the museum we hurriedly made our way through the disgustingly dirty streets of Naples. Ok. So I have to pause here for a moment. Now, I’ve heard that Naples is gross and I have to say, yes, Naples is gross. Really gross. I remember back when I thought that Florence was the dirtiest place I’d ever been to, with it’s dog poop-covered sidewalks and 2-in covering of dirty grime on every surface, but Florence has nothing on Naples. The streets, the walls, the trash littering the streets—it’s all black from the dirt. I feel like as I’m talking about it I can actually smell the filth. Ugh! So gross! That being said, I still think that it’s worth seeing, if only to see the grossest city on earth that is not (technically) in a third world country. Don’t wear flip flops.

Ok. So the reason we were running through the nasty streets of Naples is that I wanted to see a sculpture of the Veiled Christ at in the Cappella Sansevero. According to the website I looked at I had time. The only problem with that being that we’re in Italy and hours posted are really more of a guideline than anything else. So, after all that, after the running, the dirt, the panting… no sculpture.  The church was closed. This is terribly depressing since it means that someday in the future I will have to walk through the streets of Naples again. Next time I’ll bring Purell.

It was with that frantic disappointment that our trip to Napoli ended. We had just enough time to run to the train station and hop on our train back to Florence. The next day was Monday and back to work.

Business as usual… sort of.

The rest of my month was spent in fairly routine things. The semester ended, I had my final site visit, and I said my goodbyes to my wonderful class. I’ll always remember them, that’s for sure.

I also had some official Italian residency things to take care of. Namely, I had an appointment with the Questura. When you study over here you have to have a student visa, but the fun doesn’t stop there. You also have to have a permesso. A permesso is basically your permit to stay. So even though the government said you could stay when they issued your visa you need another document to say you really have permission to stay.

Well, Ciambella and I never got our permessi last year so we had to face the music and take care of it this year. This was especially important since both of our visas were expired. Again, it doesn’t really matter if your visa is expired as long as you have a valid permesso. We jumped through several hoops back in January and managed to get our appointments to pick up our actual permessi at the end of April.

So that’s what I did. I hiked all the way over to the stupid, horrible Questura (think Ellis Island) and waited… and waited… and waited. That’s what the Questura is good at, making you wait. When you first get there you wait outside in line with lots of other angry people who don’t want to be there and probably “forget” to shower for a week until it’s your turn to go into a small waiting room inside where you wait some more. Once the tall man with a confident swagger calls your name and gives you a number, then you go into the big waiting room and wait some more. I waited for five hours. I repeat: five hours. I sat there in the slime of that nasty place for five hours. But it was okay, I was there to pick up my permesso and then I’d be totally legal.

Or so I thought.

When I got to the window, the lovely (aka. bitter and angry) woman working behind what I assume must be bullet-proof glass told me, my permesso in her hand, that she couldn’t give it to me because they had made a mistake on it and that she would call me when it was ready.

Uh, what?

So I left, dejected. Annoyed. Irritated. I would have to do it all over again, when or rather if they ever called me to tell me that they finally got it right. Thank you, Italy. I think I have a hunch as to why there are so many illegals in this county.

So that stunk, but the next day I had another appointment with Dottoressa Desii (sorry, no pictures this time). Everything was fine with baby and my blood pressure was crazy low like always, but she wasn’t too happy with my weight gain. She didn’t actually call me a tub of lard, but that’s what it felt like. I left the office feeling horrible about myself and wishing that a giant meteor would hit Italy. Well, at least that I could leave it. After the Questura and the doctor, I just wanted to get away.

Ok. So it wasn’t the best way to end the month, but despite all that it really was yet another great month full of new memories. But enough of April, it was time for May.

Updatepalooza to continue…

July 8, 2009

So I must officially look pregnant now. I know this because two things have happened in the last week that tell me that other people look at me and see my belly. Oh, don’t get me wrong, it’s been drawing attention for some time now, but I think before people were trying to figure out if I was pregnant or bloated. Now it must be clear.

Today on the bus a woman got up to give me her seat. This is a first for me. This first comes right on the heels of another first that occurred just this past weekend when a hostess at a restaurant cleverly asked, “is this reservation for 2… or 3?” Har har. Whatever, she was still cute. The point is that she talked to me about the baby without first asking me if I was pregnant or without me bringing it up first. There it is. The mystery is gone.

I can’t complain, though. I got the best seat on the bus.

Update: Oh, I totes look preggers.  It happened again!  On my way home from work today!  An old lady got out of her seat to give it to me.  Crazy.

That wasn’t the only noteworthy thing to happen with the bus today.  When the bus flew past me 11 minutes early (or 11 minutes late, I don’t know which) I ran after it.  It stopped at a red light on the corner just behind my school so I ran up and knocked on the door.  I wasn’t letting it go.  The bus driver was noticeably annoyed and gestured his disapproval toward me in a very Italian fashion.  So I made a face at him and gestured back in a similarly Italian fashion.  I’ve seen this trick used by Italians, but had never employed it myself.  What I found is that it works.  The driver opened the door and there I was.  Huh.  Who knew?

Another notable moment occurred on Via Malta, where there are 2 stops.  At the second stop every single standing passenger exited and no new riders got on.  When the excitement settled I noticed, much to own private amusement, that there were men seated on one side of the bus and women on the other.  It was like a bus version of a Jr. High dance.  Huh.  The bus can offer hours of amusement.

Updatepalooza continues…

March

March started for me with a call to my new baby doctor, Dottoressa Desii. Things were looking a little different for me, now that I knew that there was a bun in the oven. But I couldn’t start obsessing just yet. I had work to do.

On the 1^st of March I had my first non-school related, non-friend or family related tour to give. It was for a group of Canadians travelling to Florence. I gave them a 2 ½ hour tour that covered Roman Florence right up to the end of the 16^th century. I was really nervous, but ended up having a great time. They were a wonderful group and made me feel comfortable right away. The only bad thing was that it was cold and drizzly for almost the entire time. Oh, well. I got paid, yo.

My next work obstacle was midterms the 3^rd and 4^th of March. This being my first experience with midterms as a teacher and not a student, I didn’t know what to expect and I certainly didn’t know how hard it would be. Turns out it’s not so easy for teachers to mark points off tests. You know, you get so attached to the students and you want so badly for them to do well. When you see them coming so close, but still missing the point it’s horrible. It was so much harder than I ever imagined. Definitely the worst part about being a teacher.

My first glimpse of the baby…

I also had my first visit with Dottoressa Desii that week, on Thursday the 5^th. I had heard some strange things about Italian doctors and I soon realized why. For starters, there’s the whole language thing. Fortunately for me, my Italian doctor speaks English, more or less. And here in Italy the patient is responsible for keeping track of the medical records. That means that anytime I get anything from the doctor I have to put it in an envelope and save it, and then bring it to every subsequent visit. Of course, my records aren’t your typical records. They’re hand-written on random scraps of paper. I can’t wait to dump all that on the American doctor at my first visit back home…

The highlight of my first visit was my ultrasound. Yes, my 5-week ultrasound. That ultrasound super-confirmed what had already been confirmed: There was a tad pole living somewhere in my belly (or something like that—I haven’t got this whole anatomy thing figured out yet). I was surprised to get to see the baby so soon. I wasn’t nearly as emotional as I always thought I’d be. It was kind of like, “okay, sure, that’s a little kid and it has a heartbeat and is shaped like a microphone. Ok.” I felt bad because I told Chris that he didn’t need to be there, so he missed it, but there would be other times.

Oh, and please note that in the upper left-hand corner of the photo it says Seagull Medica. I think that means my doctor is a sea bird who eats trash.

Time to get out of Dodge: Spring Break in very, very cold weather.

Prague

On Friday, the 6^th Chris and I headed off to Milan to catch a flight to Prague. I was so excited to be getting out of Florence and away from work, but I was super sick. Not pregnancy sick (I mean, I was crazy tired, but not sick to my stomach at all). No, I was sick sick. That week I ran a very high fever one night and into the next day. I don’t know how high it was, but I was so disoriented I couldn’t open the bedroom door, I was blacking out, I couldn’t roll over to reach my water… and on it went. I was really scared. I knew that a high fever was dangerous during pregnancy and I didn’t know if I could take anything or not. I hadn’t even been to the doctor yet. By the time Chris got home from work that day, bring with him a thermometer, my temperature was down to 101. By then I thought that I was totally better. I have no idea what it must have been earlier. High.

So anyway, I was sick.

We got to Prague and it was cold. Really cold. We stayed in a one-bedroom apartment not far from the attractions and were pleasantly surprised by how nice and big it was. For only 40 euros a night we had a huge apartment—entryway, bedroom, giant living room, big bath, full kitchen. It was really nice.

We spent our time checking out the Old Town—very nice—and all its offerings, like the TGI Fridays and the Bagel place. Ok. So we didn’t eat ethnic Czech food, but we did eat well.

Unfortunately for me, most of the trip was spent blowing my nose, shivering, wanting to sleep, and feeling gross. I was really impressed by one of the churches we went into, though. It had some of the most beautiful stained glass I’ve ever seen. I don’t remember the name of the church, it may have been the one in the castle thing we went to (I was not all there), but the windows were done in an art nouveau style. They were amazing. Pictures, as usual, don’t do them justice.

Munich

From cold, cold Prague we took the train to Munich. It gave Chris a chance to see the snow-covered countryside and me a chance to sleep. I felt like such a drag, but I just didn’t have a lot of juice. Once in Munich (I think the train ride was about 5 hours long) we checked into our surprisingly nice hotel and made our way to the city center.

While in the center I found a familiar friend: the cinghiale. A cinghiale is a wild boar. This statue is a copy of one that sits in the mercato nuovo in Florence. It’s always crowded by tourists so I also resisted the urge to rub its nose and get my photo taken. For some reason, in Munich it seemed okay.

Our first stop took us to the resting place of “Mad” King Ludwig II, which was interesting, but not mind blowing. In fact, most of the churches we went into were kind of “ehh.” I guess when you’ve been living in Italy it’s tough to compete in the church department.

That night we ate at the Hofbrauhaus where, tempted by such savory dishes as “Crackling Pork Knuckle,” we ate like Bavarian royalty. Chris greedily drank a delicious-looking beer in front of me. This was my first chance to get all liquored up in Munich and—boom!—pregnant, can’t.

Dinner was great—and filling—and we left with full bellies, fond memories, and some very, very heavy souvenir beer mugs. Oh, and a real appreciation for the super-foxy tuba player in the polka band. That girl’s got it figured out, I think!

The next day in Munich was spent with more sightseeing, more food, and a little bit of shopping. I’d been on the hunt for a “Dapper Dan” hat for my dad since he left his on a train while visiting me in December. Well, it was in Munich where I found it, tucked away in a little hat shop on the main strip, just waiting to be taken to its new home. A call to my mom back home got his measurements and soon we were out the door with my dad’s new hat.

The afternoon was snowy and cold, but pleasant. We walked all over the city until ending up at a little basement restaurant just outside of the city center. The food was excellent, it was nice and warm, the ambiance was cozy, and so was the new hat, which I couldn’t resist trying for myself. I had soup. It was tasty happiness.

We found another cozy place for dinner that, like dinner the night before and lunch just a few hours before, proved to be a delicious carb-fest. We didn’t push it too much that day because we knew we had an early start to the day ahead of us. So off to bed we were, dreaming of castles and snow.

Neuschwanstein

The next morning we caught an early train off to see Schloss Neuschwanstein. I’d been there before, and right after arrival I caught a sight of the castle that seemed very, very familiar. My dad had taken a picture from that spot looking toward the castle when we were here in 1989. That picture sat on one of the end tables in the living room for years. I quickly snapped my own version. Amazing. It’s like we’d never left.

So my picture looks a little different from my dad’s, mainly because last time I was here the weather conditions were considerably different. This time around it was cold. Really cold. Really, really cold. And snowy. And wet. And it wasn’t just me—I know you all think I’m always cold so I’m not a real judge of cold weather, but it wasn’t just me! Chris was cold too. So were the trees. Seriously. Yikes.

But it was amazingly beautiful. The snow covered the whole area with deafened stillness. It was so quiet and peaceful. Had my teeth not been chattering there wouldn’t have been a sound.

We decided to tour both Hohenschwangau Castle (Mom & Dad’s crib) and Neuschwanstein (Ludwig’s digs) so we ended up waiting around for quite awhile. We filled our time shivering and walking around (had we stopped moving we would have frozen to the pavement, only to thaw out months later).

We finally got into our tour through the Hohenschwangau Castle and were delighted by our tour guide. This is the sort of thing that really doesn’t translate too well on paper. I think we’d have to act it out for you. I’ll try. Ok, so he was young, probably about my age or a little younger, he was extremely skinny and lanky, and pretty much looked like the Aryan nation poster child with his blond hair and very blue eyes. He spoke with a very high, I’d say flitting, voice and as he spoke he moved as if in a trance, pointing languidly from one highlight to the next as if his fingers were too heavy to lift without considerable effort. His gaze would follow his gesture, slowly, about a second behind and he never, ever made eye contact with any of us. Honestly, it was pretty much hilarious.

Ok. So imagine what I just told you applied to this statement—remember! Slow, slow, high, shaky voice:

“Aahz you cahn see… [long pause]… theez eez the… dining room. [Pause] Theez wahz the spech-ial place foor dee family heerz.”

Alright. Now I’m sure that didn’t make as much sense to you as it did to me. Just trust me. It was funny. And slow. But we really took a liking to him. He was endearing in his weirdness.

After Hohenschwangau we were off to Neuschwanstein for our second tour of the day. We had a little time so we opted to climb (the mountain) to get there instead of forking over the cash for the carriage ride. Besides, the last time I was here I took a horse ride and saw a horse poo right in front of me. It was traumatizing. Ok. It wasn’t actually, but we walked anyway.

The climb up was fairly steep, very cold of course, and exhausting. I was starting to get over my sickness by that point, but was still a pregnant chick in her first trimester so it might as well have been the toughest climb of my life. But, like I said before, it was beautiful. Though it snowed pretty hard on an off as we climbed to the top finally we had made it, despite the odds.

The tour was a little less entertaining than the first and Chris and I both thought that all in all it was pretty pricey for what it was so, my official opinion? Skip the tours and just enjoy the beauty. Oh, and go in the summertime. We weren’t able to head over to Mary’s bridge to get the famous view of the castle due to the weather, which was disappointing, but not too bad. By the time we were done with our second tour I was ready to return to Munich, take a nap, and warm up. So off we were to Munich for our last night.

Back to work and time for another field trip: Urbino

On the 15^th Chris and I took the train from Munich to Florence, during which, for the most part, I slept. What I managed to stay away for looked beautiful, but you’ll have to ask him for details.

Once back at home it was back to the grind. Back to the class lectures, the mid-terms, the site visits… back to business as usual. But this wasn’t your run-of-the-mill average week. Ciambella and I were facing our next big challenge: the overnight field trip to Urbino. You may remember that I went to Urbino with the Masterpieces class back in November and I loved it, but this time was different. This time I was lecturing.

The trip was on the 21-22 of March and we had a huge turnout. About 4 students weren’t able to come because of a conflicting trip to Sicily and other than that we had only one no-show. That’s almost unheard of when it comes to field trip attendance. Ciambella and I knew it was because we rock and they love us. We were also able to get one grad, Laura, Laura’s husband Dave, Chris (obviously), Sylvia (who works in the Media Lab—I love her) and her husband Salvo, Clark, Steph, Lara, Lydia, Sarah March and a couple guests for the students on the trip. It came to 53 people, not counting me, Ciambella, and the Captain.

So there I was on the Piero Pilgrimage, but with a very different role. It was a little intense, but nice. Our first stop was Arezza where we went to the Church of San Francesco to see Piero’s fresco cycle in the high chapel showing the Legend of the True Cross. This was the easy part for me. No lecturing—the Captain was in charge here. All I had to do is hang out and then take a coffee break. The calm before the storm.

Our next stop along the way was to Monterchi. Monterchi is a small town with really only one thing to claim: the beautiful Madonna del Parto by Piero della Francesca. Oh, stresser. This was my lecture. I had requested it for a very specific reason. Parto in Italian means “childbirth” and this image is a very special one in Renaissance art since it is an image of a very pregnant Virgin Mary. When I first saw it in November I couldn’t believe how beautiful it was and I joked that I had to get knocked up so that when I returned I could lecture on it. Well, mission accomplished.

Not only was this special because of what it meant to me personally, but it was also special because I used it as an opportunity to tell the students that I was expecting. The day before I had stopped on my way home and picked up some flowers so that I, in a long line of pregnant women before me, could leave my own little offering to the Madonna along with my prayer for a safe and healthy pregnancy and delivery. Ok, ok so maybe Marty Luther turned over in his grave a little when I brought an offering to an image of the Virgin Mary, but it was special and my job as a teacher was fulfilled. I feel confident that the students will always remember that particular painting.

It was a really wonderful moment for me. For the first time since I’d been pregnant, I got a little choked up when telling them the news. I saved that bombshell for the tail end of the lecture (I had to make sure they were listening to the rest just in case it turned up on the final). It was great seeing them realize, slowly, but surely, what it was I was about to say. And when they realized it they all clapped and cheered… and looked straight at Chris. I’ll always remember the moment I told my first class ever that I was going to have my first baby ever. So wonderful.

After that big moment we all piled back into the bus for our next city and our next Piero: San Sepulcro and Piero’s Madonna della Misercordia and his Resurrection. This was another biggie for me. I was presenting the Resurrection, which is considered by some to be his greatest work. Not me, of course, I’m a little partial to the Madonna. Anyway, the lecture went fine.

Ciambella and I had a little surprise for the class: a special extra trip to see the amazing Deposition by a Florentine artist name Rosso Fiorentino. We snuck away to see it in November when we were here and we couldn’t wait to share such a strange and wonderful painting with our class. Unfortunately for our big plans, the church where the altarpiece is found was closed with no hope of opening during our time there. Humph.

After San Sepulcro my day of lecturing was over. We all headed back to the bus and on to our final destination for the day: Urbino. Just because my lecturing was out of the way does not mean that I was in clear. Oh, no! I was on one of the windiest roads in the world with no motion sickness medication (there aren’t any medicines that I know of that are approved for pregnant women). It was awful. As some of you already know, I get pretty bad motion sickness, it seems to be getting worse with age actually, which is nice for getting me a front row seat in cars, but not so nice when it comes to buses in Italy. I cringe at the thought of it.

Somehow, against all odds, I made it without any Exorcist-inspired fireworks to our hotel in beautiful, stunning, unbelievable that it even exists Urbino. We had about an hour to kill before we all met up again for our last stop of the day: dinner. Hurrah!

Dinner in Urbino is a big deal. It’s pretty much the selling point of the trip when it comes to the students. You see, first of all it’s included with the trip so the students don’t pay for it (their parents do). That helps. Then there’s the fact that it is virtually unending amounts of food. When you first sit down there are huge wheels of cheese and baskets of bread set out on the table. I’m not talking bridal shower cheese cube cheese, I’m talking real, delicious pecorino, parmesan, truffle parmesan… good, quality cheese. It’s hard to control yourself.

And that’s where people go wrong.

There’s an art to eating this dinner. It starts with restraint, which is almost impossible to muster given the bounty. You have to be selective about the cheese and not eat fourteen plates of it like Ciambella and I did last year. Oh, no. There’s more on its way.

Next comes the veggies. Yummy, perfectly cooked grilled veggies, glistening in olive oil. Not cheap-o veggies either. Good ones. Red peppers, whole sweet onions, artichokes (Oh! The artichokes!)… they’re all amazing. But be careful…

Next comes the primi. In Italy you have primi piatti and secondi piatti. Secondi are main dishes, like roasted meats, chicken, pork, stuff like that. Primi are smaller portions. They’re usually pastas, soups, or risotto (rice) dishes. Normally when I go out to eat I just get a primi. They almost always more than what is actually necessary.

So at this place, it’s really the primi that I love so much. They’re amazing (though I have to admit that they were better last year). All different kinds of pasta with all different kinds of sauces. I’m a little partial to the lasagna. It comes out all bubbly and hot and melty. Yum! But it’s all unbelievably good.

And it’s not over yet.

Then comes the secondi. Specifically, a huge meat plate. Well, that’s misleading. There are many, many huge meat plates stacked high with beef, pork chops, sausage, lamb, you name it! And it’s all good. By this time, usually only the really dedicated ones are still eating and no one is eating comfortably. The one who is still packing away an impressive amount of food by this point is appointed the winner of the Urbino/Piero Pilgrimage bi-annual food eating contest. The winner was formally announced on the bus ride back to the hotel.

The food eating contest doesn’t take into account the last part of the meal. Desert somehow manages to find it’s way into the bellies (and hearts) of everyone in the room. It’s time well spent.

After all that gorging you might think that the students are too exhausted to cause any problems, but that’s not really the case. Quite the contrary. They’re all hyped up on the beverages served (“There are two. One’s red and the other’s white. It’s recommended that you don’t mix the two.”). They even got a stern talking to on the bus ride home by Soon-to-be-Mamma Tangeman about behaving responsibly in the hotel. I didn’t have too much to worry about though. They were a good group.

I certainly wasn’t going to cause any problems. I was beat and my new best friend was the pillow.

On day two of the Urbino trip I felt like I was going to die. I was so tired that every step seemed like the biggest, toughest step of my life. Fortunately I had a fairly light lecture day. I only had three small works to talk about while we were over at the Palazzo Ducale. Once that was over I was totally in the clear for the rest of the trip. Whew!

Before leaving Urbino we broke for lunch. A small group of us joined the Captain for an Urbino specialty: a crescia sfoglia. They’re like flatbread folded over, filled with ingredients like grilled veggies (freshly grilled) and meat, and then pressed and heated until they are buttery, crispy, and golden. And they’re huge. And—you guessed it—delicious. Since our lunch group was big, Lara and Ciambella stayed back at the restaurant to order the food while the rest of us went off to our picnic spot up on the hill overlooking the city.

The weather was still slightly chilly, but the sun was shining brightly and it was an absolutely gorgeous day. We all lounged around in the sunshine. I was so glad that Chris got to see it. I knew he would love it there. He took pictures, I took a nap. I was officially as fried as my crescia.

Our trip wasn’t over with Urbino. We had one more stop way out east in the city of Rimini where we went to see a church designed by the famous Renaissance architect, Leon Battista Alberti. Ciambella had a lecture inside on our last Piero of the trip, but my responsibilities were over so I spent most of the time gazing off into space and thinking about ponies and lollipops.

It was a long trip, but it was a great trip. I was happy to get back to reality and work. After a long nap, of course.

8 weeks

On the 24^th of March I had another visit with Dottoressa Desii, the sea bird doctor. Everything was good with the alien inside me and there were no surprises. Chris was able to see the baby on this visit, which was definitely a bonus. You can’t see much in the ultrasound, but I assure that’s a baby. I know because I’ve seen her since. At this visit she was little more than a blob. Less like the microphone I saw at 5 weeks, but not quite the baby-shaped thing I would see later.

What a wonderful way to end the month.

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!