Sarahnissima
Italy and such as

Wednesday, June 25, 2008

This morning I got up before the rest of the house again. The sad thing is that I’m not even getting up early. I just happened to be surrounded by people who sleep in. Something tells me that the sleeping in is more on account of the hot, lazy weather than the personalities of the people in my life.

In the solitude of the morning I enjoyed my espresso and my book. I’ve started a new one. It’s called Vive La Revolution. It’s a satirical look at the French Revolution and so far it’s hilarious. This is a book written in my language, let me to you.

After Chris (finally) got up we got ready and headed off to my school’s library. We spent the next I don’t know how many hours sitting in the grad room. Steph popped in and enlightened us by turning on the air conditioning. Hum… air conditioning. Who knew? After maybe 20 minutes I was begging to turn the infernal thing off. (I have never been a fan of air conditioning. I don’t care how hot it is outside.) We left that place (sometimes, when I’m not liking the library, I prefer to call it “that place”) around 6 and walked a few blocks over to Sidis, the grocery store near school. We needed some bread and foil—really edge of the seat kind of stuff.

The grocery store was not in the cards today for it was closed. As we turned toward the Viale and walked in the direction of Borgo Pinti I got a call from Ciambella. She was running amok, or shall I say “riding amok,” on the streets of Florence on her new and improved pimped-out bike, Alessandro. We arranged a meeting on Borgo Pinti and moments later up she rode ringing her bell like a madwoman and weaving back and forth. Here I must pause. Ciambella would like me to announce to all of cyber-world that she, yes, she, has a brand spanking new, shiny and functional bell on her bike. Ding! Ding! Ding! Ring the alarms! Shout it from the rooftops! At the completion of this degree I plan to pen my first novel How Alessandro Got His Bell Back and dedicate it especially to her.

The three of us, Chris and I walking while Ciambella continued to swerve deliriously, made our way back to our neighborhood. We were separated just before the sketchy alley where Chris and I stopped off at the home goods store for two new pillows. Hurrah! While waiting in line (which took forever for no apparent reason) I received a text from Ciambella informing me that she had been taken prisoner by Gelateria Neri. Alright then. Mission for today: Rescue roommate from the clutches of delicious gelato.

Chris and I found her happily sipping her caffe granita, a refreshing alternative to gelato. As ransom I was forced to buy a granita of my own, blood orange flavored. It pretty much knocked my socks off. Chris, foolishly, declined the refreshing snack. He’ll learn.

Once back at the apartment we made spaghetti with red sauce and settled in on the couch for a night of TV watching. We aren’t normally big TV watchers, but the kitchen was unbearably hot. Ciambella and I played a few hands of gin while we forced Chris to watch Italian MTV TRL, part of an episode of The Hills (in Italian) and some Italian news. He was showing signs of quick learning, parroting back words one right after the other. After repeating “Coca-Cola” in a fine Italian accent, Ciambella said with pride in her voice, “Ah, you’re doing great Chris!”

At around 9 the UEFA European Championships semifinal match between Germany and Turkey began. I don’t know much about the soccer, but I was enjoying all the Schweigerschimtzengerburger names that were being thrown around. The feed kept going in and out, but fortunately Kate and Leopold dubbed in Italian was on the next channel up. Chris was so happy. Since he couldn’t watch the soccer the next best thing was a Rom-Com in another language.

So the game is finally over. Germany won. Glückwünsche, Deutschland! Now it’s time to say goodbye. Sleep well, my friends, and dream of Aryan women.

Thursday, June 26, 2008

I woke up before the rest of the house again today… blah, blah, blah. I sat at the table and ate my Frutti Rossi and drank my espresso. I read a little of my new book. I love, love, love my new book.

Ciambella headed off to school and I told her we would be following shortly, as soon as Chris got up. He joined the world around 11:30 (I’m cutting him some slack since he just got here and is still adjusting) and we both got ready and headed off to school as well.

Chris took refuge in the freezer that the grad room has become. I hid in another room (with the air conditioner off). I eventually finished my two paragraphs that I’ve been struggling with for some time now. What? I didn’t mention that? Ok. So about a month ago, after our last symposium meeting, we received emails from the symposium committee. My email informed me that the committee had accepted my proposed topic (and all the people cheered) and requested that I send them a title and brief, one to two paragraph summary of my topic. I’ve been attempting to complete this assignment since that time. Never in my life have I struggled so diligently to write two, measly paragraphs. But today, ladies and gentlemen, I finished it (I only managed one paragraph after one month’s time). Ahhh…

So then I surfed the web for a while. Chris and I left school around 6ish and successfully went to Sidis for aluminum foil and all that. Once home I made dinner of pasta with veggies and some beige bread product. I had grilled up some chicken, but after grilling I became convinced that it smelled funny and was full of disease and so I threw it away. I know, I know. There are starving children in Indiana who would love some stinky chicken and I am a horrible, wasteful person. At least I don’t have food poisoning.

Ciambella and I played some gin over dinner. Apparently our new house guest has not disrupted our gin-playing routine. Ah-ha, Grandma! Your plan to foil my expert gin playing skills by sending a boy to me failed! (Imagine maniacal laughter fading into the distance…)

As with yesterday, it was the UEFA European Championships semifinals that would dominate the night… or would it. We began watching the Spain-Russia match (go Spain), but got wooed by Il Sesto Senso (The Sixth Sense) on another channel. It should be noted that one of the players for the Russian team had a last name that sounded like “Sexyshop” when pronounced by the Italian announcer. Alas, it’s actually something else.

When the movie ended so did my day. And so there it is. Oh, yeah, and Spain won.

Friday, June 27, 2008

This morning I actually had somewhere to be. It was kind of nice. I’m already a little tired of not have a set schedule. I get bored and distracted without my timetables.

This morning I didn’t have time for my espresso or my Frutti Rossi. I did manage to quickly pack lunches for Chris and I and a termus for me and then it was off to school. But today wasn’t for reading and researching and writing one paragraph; today I was going to work. I had to work this morning at 9 for the school’s library with their inventory. Not very exciting work, but it’s money. Chris tagged along to hang out in the air conditioning all day.

So my morning was spent organizing the periodicals (a task which I thoroughly enjoyed since it tapped into my obsessive compulsive side) and scanning barcode after barcode in the library. I actually kind of enjoyed it. It was nice, mindless work and the time flew. Now I wish that I’d signed up for more hours. I took a break at 1 for lunch more because I felt like I was supposed to than that I needed to. Chris and I ate our packed lunches out in the garden in the shade of large pine whose gnarled, bare trunk rises high into the sky then poufs out like an umbrella at top. It was this same pine that warranted the warnings earlier in the year to “watch out for pine worms.” After lunch I returned to the calming monotony of my scanning job for about a half an hour longer before the library closed.

As you may remember, since we are grad students and are by definition awesome, we get to stay at the library past closing time permitting we don’t throw any keggers or transform the stairwell into one massive water slide or something—which, interestingly enough, would be totally worth the effort. So as Elena, the librarian, closed up the windows and the doors, Tom, Lara, Ciambella, Chris and I found ourselves in a familiar place (well, probably not all that familiar for Chris come to think of it)—in the stillness of a closed library. Since I finished my paragraphs yesterday I didn’t even bother with real work. I got comfy on an armchair in the hallway and cozied up to my rip-roaring, knee-slapping funny book about that crazy silly French Revolution. Oh, that goofy Robespierre! What a character!

Chris and I stuck around until about 6ish again today before ducking out. If it’s possible, I think that it was somewhere around 200° on our walk home. I remember this one time when I went to the planetarium at the Dayton Museum of Natural History and they talked about how in a zillion years the Earth would be too close to the Sun so it would get hotter and hotter and then we’d all die and the whole production would end its days as a flaming ball of heat and destruction. Well, if my calculations are correct, it’s been a zillion years. (Please note: The writer of the blog is an art historian, not a math scientist.) But maybe not, know that I think of it. I’m still here and it’s the temperature is markedly cooler since the sun went down.

Anyway, so it was off to the sauna of La Scala. I did my best to make it more unbearable by cooking. Hurrah! Flames! I was just thinking how nice it would be if I could manage to sweat just a tad bit more! I made risotto with pancetta and veggies. It was okay, I guess. It’s a little hot to enjoy risotto supresa.

Ciambella and I played some gin (come sempre) and then we moved the party wagon into the living room and in front of the fan. We watched a bit of the Nelson Mandela concert on MTV before turning on some Crimson Tide, starring my boyfriend, Denzel Washington. Maybe you’ve heard of him. He’s a pretty big deal.

Now it’s 11:28 and I’m still sweating, but definitely cooler than I was. I need to get some sleep tonight because I have a long day of maxin’ and relaxin’ planned tomorrow. And so to all of you, adieu.

Saturday, June 28, 2008

Well, this morning when my alarm went off at 6:30 I thought, “Ah-ha! I’m not going to the stupid library! You’re not going to get me today alarm clock!” Then I promptly shut off the alarm and went right back into peaceful sleep. Of course, it must not have been too peaceful because approximately 20 minutes later I woke up for a second time and thought, “Wait…wasn’t I doing something today?” Then I laid there for awhile, thinking, and realized, why, yes. There was a reason that my alarm was set. Today I was going to the beach! Hurray for waking up at 6:30 on a Saturday!

So up and out of bed I bounded. I leapt up the stairs and started getting ready as quickly as I could. Chris got up shortly afterwards. I didn’t have time to eat or even enjoy my iced espresso (espresso brewed the night before and kept in the fridge over night, the brainchild of my entrepreneurial roommate). I packed up the beach bag and the three of us, Ciambella, Chris and myself, were out the door by 7:40.

We walked off to the Santa Maria Novella train station and bought our tickets for the 8:08 train to Viareggio. Since it was just after 8 when we got our tickets we went ahead and found our spots on the train even though there was no sign of Dan and Lara. They arrived just after we boarded and the five of us settled in for our hour and half trip to the Tyrrhenian Sea.

I think we all expected the beach to be laid out at our feet the second be exited the train in Viareggio at around 9:45, but as it turns out there’s a short walk through the city to the rows and rows of brightly colored umbrellas that dot shoreline. In Viareggio you pay for an umbrella and a seat. The cost, which for five people using one lounge chair, one regular chair, and one massive lettino (meaning a couch, a rather large couch it seems) equals out to 7 euros per person, gets you not only your spot on the beach, but also access to a clean bathroom, changing rooms and showers. We passed by resort spot after resort spot with names like “Nido” and “Balena” and “Nettuno” until we finally settled on “Il Sole.”

For starters their reservations weren’t already full (or “complete” as the Italians say). Plus they had a pool with sparkling clear water, a bar (what we would call a café) and restaurant, nice changing rooms, and a pleasant attendant manning the reservation counter. We paid our fee, passed by the alluring pool and the bar, and found our spot, 14H, right under one of the 50 or so bright orange and yellow striped umbrellas in our strip of beach.

Ciambella, Dan and I quickly went back to the bar where we ordered pastries and espresso—always important to prepare one’s body for a day at the beach, I always say. After fueling up it was time to hit the waves. I have to admit, the water was much more impressive than I expected it would be. There were real waves, big waves, the kind you see out on Hatteras Island with whitecaps and everything. I guess after my time in Savannah I’d forgotten what waves actually looked like. I was thrilled. The water was also warmer than I had anticipated. Not warm, mind you, but warmer than expected. Along with the impressive waves came a very strong undertow. We found ourselves pulled out into the water several times and called out to by the lifeguard on almost every occasion. Ciambella, Lara and I quickly learned that our bathing suits were not designed to withstand that level of athleticism and spent a majority of our time in the water holding our tops and our bottoms in an effort to not become suddenly and unintentionally nude.

Our morning session in the water ended and we retired to our trusty ole 14H with Lara and I in the shade and the others cooking in the bright sunshine. Our lounging lasted for an hour or so until it was back to the water for more abuse. Dan and Lara stayed back as the three La Scala kids braved the undertow once more. On this occasion the water got the better of me. As many of you know, I am a horrible swimmer (I would even go so far as to say that I can’t swim) and I have what I like to call a very healthy respect of the ocean. Translation: I sink like a bag of brinks, have a tendency to panic, am terrified of drowning, but can’t say no to the water. The undertow pulled us out farther than I could recover from and the lifeguard began whistling like a madman. It was about that time that I realized just how far out we were. It wasn’t that we were that far out—the water wasn’t too terribly deep—it was more that we were too far for me to stand on the bottom and way too far for me to “swim” back to shore. I tried desperately to peddle back, but the harder I tried the more I stayed put. Chris tried to help me, but he, too, was struggling with the current. I couldn’t push off with the waves because the undertow would pull me as soon as the wave pushed me. I was going nowhere and getting absolutely exhausted in the process. I was panicking a bit. Well, a lot. I was trying to act cool, but I was freaking out. Big time. In fact, just writing about this is making me a nervous wreck. (Let the record show that I have always believed that if I am ever caught in a rip tide I will die. Today’s experience with strong, but not rip tide strong, undertow reinforces my belief. Like I said, I have a very, very healthy respect for the power of the ocean.)

Ok. Enough of that talk. I’ll never get to sleep tonight if I keep thinking about that. Needless to say, I lived (thank you God) and we eventually got out of the water.

After my near-death experience in the wilds of the ocean it was time for lunch. Dan got us a table at the Il Sole restaurant and the five of us enjoyed a surprisingly tasty and economical lunch. We waited the customary 30 minutes after eating to go back in the water. I opted to stay in the very, very shallow end. Don’t let anyone say I didn’t learn my lesson. You know, sometimes I get so frustrated. I love the water and the beach so much, but I can’t swim and I burn really easily. While I’m at it, let me complain about one more injustice in my life (talk about ingratitude, huh?). I love shrimp, but the stuff makes me sick. So, if I were one to believe in past lives, which I’m not, I’d have to say that in my past life, which never happened, I must have been a pro-surfer. These are my conclusions.

The weather, or more accurately the menacing skies, determined the amount of time that we spent in the water during our afternoon session. A storm was making an appearance over land and was threatening to ruin our day at the beach. My Italian teacher back in Syracuse said once that thunder was the sound that lightning makes when it echoes off the mountains. So when we all heard the lightning echoing off the mountains just off shore we figured it might be time to exit the water. For the rest of our time in Viareggio we dried off under our umbrella and then packed up and headed home. It was just about 4:30 in the afternoon.

We walked back to the train station, stopping for coffee flavored ganitas, purchased our return tickets and boarded the train, which arrived just after we climbed onto binario 6 (track 6). The ride back was marked by sheer exhaustion. I slept for a short bit until my hands woke me up. It seems that my arms and I can’t fall asleep at the same time. I groggily read my book until we pulled into the familiar station at Santa Maria Novella just before 7—right on time.

Lara and Dan came back to La Scala with us, but first we stopped off at Mavi for some much-needed ka-toms. Then we all climbed the stairs and watched Anchorman. Tom put in a late appearance just as the movie was ending and we all sat around talking for a bit. Now everyone has left and Chris and I, both burned (me not too badly, Chris completely roasted to the point where he more closely resembles the reddish-purple glow of a New Mexico sunset than the man I married), are sizzling in the sauna that this apartment has become. I’m exhausted and sore. Time to call it a day. A domani.

Sunday, June 29, 2008

The heat is here and I think it’s here to stay… at least until about the end of September or something. Ordinarily I would rave about how great the heat is. Finally! I can go a whole day without shivering and worrying about purple knees and layer after layer of bulky clothing. I don’t have to scrape ice from anything or wear gloves. Normally, I would be loving this. Unfortunately, here the heat is just hot. I don’t have anywhere to go. The apartment is a boiler room. The stores and shops and churches and museums are hot too. Italians do not approach air conditioning the way Americans do (a quality I usually appreciate). As a result, it’s hot. Really hot.

It was this hot that I woke up to this morning. The first thing I did, what has become my routine, was to shut the blinds on the kitchen window. It, more than any other window, receives the most sunlight during the day and the kitchen has been stifling in the afternoon. Chris came up after a while and the two of us were reading on the couch in the living room when Ciambella, looking like a deranged zombie, stumbled down the steps murmuring something unintelligible and croaking.

After a slow morning, we all eventually left the apartment around 1:00ish. The streets were silent and most of the shops were closed. It was strange. I mean, I know it’s Sunday, but it’s not usually that quiet at that time on Sundays. It was like we had just entered The Twilight Zone or something. Our first objective was to unburden the obscene quantities of cardboard recycling that Ciambella and I have been collecting in our entryway for the past six months. We have a spot for the plastic, glass, and aluminum, but for reasons we can’t seem to understand, people in the Santa Croce district of Florence don’t seem to recycle their cardboard. So today after carrying embarrassing amounts of recycling around the city we ultimately failed in our main objective: finding a cardboard recycling spot. And so, despite our attempts to be kind to the environment, we ended up throwing all that cardboard in the trash.

After not saving the environment we went to a dollar store full of knick-knacks made in third world country sweatshops by 9-year-olds, where I purchased four ice trays, one pizza cutter, a hairbrush, and a spray bottle. And boy what a bargain it was! After patronizing the sweatshop promoter it was on to the Gelateria Neri for some granitas, our newest addiction. This time I mixed the arancia (blood orange) with the mandorle (almond). A weird combo for sure, but it turned out to be pretty good. Then it was on to the grocery store for non-organic food. (The saddest news to report today is that the fan store was not open. I could cry.)

Chris and I then returned home, exhausted from the relentless heat. Once home we vegged and allowed our brains to slowly seep out our ears. It’s really hot. I read some articles for my symposium research and then discarded that nonsense in favor of painting my toenails a rather obnoxious hot pink. (The nail polish was a gift from my mom and I must say that I like it quite a bit. I never would have chosen that color on my own, but it actually looks pretty good.)

We watched To Catch a Thief and I made a pretty killer pizza for dinner: potatoes, sausage, onions, garlic, red peppers and mozzarella cheese. We agreed that the bubbly in the movie looked tempting so when the movie was over we ran across the street to the liquor sto’ to pick up some vino frizzante. With prissy little girl drinks in hand we settled on the couch to watch the final match of the UEFA European Championship between Germany and Spain. I was rooting for Spain. No reason really, except that Chris was rooting for Germany and I enjoy being contrary. Anyway, Spain won. Go me. Do I know how to pick ‘em or what?

So it’s 11:30 and 400°. We are sweating our brains out and I have no idea how on earth I’m going to get to sleep tonight. So, with that let me say ‘good’night to you all from the center of the earth.

Monday, June 30, 2008

There was a surprisingly cool breeze pushing into the apartment this morning when I woke up at 8. I found Ciambella eating breakfast at the kitchen table and soon joined her with my morning espresso. On a side note, I feel that I have perfected the art of espresso, if only for my tastes. I have found that my ideal ratio is two parts espresso (which means about 3 shots) to one part milk. Add in some nutmeg, cinnamon, and some sugar and voila! super yummy espresso latte. Today’s latte was exceptional. I was in the midst of enjoying it when I said goodbye to Ciambella (off on her merry way to I Tatti) and good morning to Chris (up from the hobbit hole, groggy-eyed and grumpy).

I took a cold shower—yes, I, Sarah Elizabeth Lindy Tangeman, took a cold shower—and ate a delicious bowl of Frutti Rossi. I read a chapter of my rip-roaring French Revolution book, authored by an unapologetic socialist, and then got ready for my day. Chris and I moseyed on over to school around 11:30 or so and so began my legendary struggle with concentration, a struggle which will, undoubtedly, go down in the history books as a battle for the ages.

…Concentrationgate 2008

I read my email, spread all my articles and notes out on the table, read part of one article, checked my email again (nothing new), rearranged my articles on the table, looked at a sentence in one, checked my email again (ah-ha! Got one!), stared out the window, thought about butterscotch flavored things (bu-tter-scotch, scotchy, scotchy scotch), watched Trigger Happy TV skits on YouTube, highlighted something in one of my articles (don’t know why), placed my pen on one of my articles in such a manner as to suggest that I was about to scribble down an insightful thought (which I wasn’t), checked my email, got up and walked around for a bit, checked the weather, complained when my Internet went down, wondered for awhile how those weird lizards run on water, looked in the general direction of my articles, went and talked to Sebastian, checked my email again (they’re really pouring in now), surfed the web, decided that I’ve been working too hard and that a vacation was in order, thought about glacial worms and what their contribution to the ecosystem might be, accidentally looked at one of my articles, made reservations for a hotel in Venice and then (oops) another one in Vicenza, told Chris that (surprise!) we’re taking a trip to the Veneto, broke my shift key, complained when my Internet went down again, wondered why my research was going so slowly, and finally decided to go outside and eat a nectarine. It was delicious.

So now it’s 5pm and I’ve done virtually nothing today. How does this happen? I think I’m going to just give up on this whole research thing and see if Chris would like to climb to the top of the Duomo or something tonight. I’m bored. If anything good happens later I’ll let you know…

5:12. Still haven’t done anything.

5:29. Just got back from eating an orange in the garden. It was not as delicious as my nectarine.

5:51. Still in library. No work done. Library closing. I am bad student number one.

Later that night…

Alright. So the library was a bust today, but my evening was wonderful. I had forgotten that we were planning on going to watch ballet in the Piazza della Signoria last night. We saw them set up the stage when we were on our way to the train station on Saturday, but that was waaay back on Saturday so it’s understandable how one can forget these things. When Chris and I got back from the library, Ciambella was in the kitchen cooking herself some dinner. When the stove was free I whipped up some super delicious burritos for Chris and me. We all left the apartment around 8 and stopped by Gelateria Neri for a treat before the show. Yes, the gelato has reached addiction levels.

We headed over to the piazza, planted ourselves in the front and center of the stage and watched the performers warm up while we waited for Lara and Dan to show up, which they did shortly after our arrival.

We all staked our claim in our rock star spot and resolved to not let any of those old people sitting in lawn chairs behind us guilt us into moving! (It should be noted that we arrived about an hour and a half before the start of the show and no one was behind us when we claimed our spot. I mean, come on! We’re not that mean!)

The show started around 9:30 and it was absolutely amazing. I don’t think that there are words to describe how incredible it was. It started with some fairly standard ballet and then this guy walked out and started break dancing. It was incredible. From that point on it was unlike anything I had ever seen before. They mixed the ballet with the break dancing set to this intense pounding clubbing music. I just couldn’t get enough of it. Oh, my. I am thoroughly incapable of doing last night’s performance any justice on this blog. You’ll just have to check part of it out and see for yourselves. Fortunately for all of us Chris remembered his camera and since we had such great “seats” I got some great video. Unfortunately, the video files are too big for me to download to the webpage. It was all so beautiful. The air was cool, but comfortable, and the music was so loud. It filled every inch of air around us. I could feel it in my chest. It was one of the coolest things I think I have ever seen. I’m so, so, so glad that we all decided to go.

After the concert we went over to Angie’s Pub for a beer and sat in the street talking about how cool the show had been. Ciambella almost got hit by a car. I think we were all a little mesmerized. Despite all the excitement we were pretty beat so we said our goodnights and went on to our case.

It’s been a long day, not terribly productive, but good. Ahhhh…. And so with a sigh of contentment, I wish you all a good night.

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