Giovedì 25 Marzo

Can anyone guess the significance of this day? I should imagine not. We do not typically place the celebration of the new year any later than can be allowed for the Chinese new year. The Florentines, though, until the year 1750 celebrated the coming of the new year on the 25th of March. This is also the Feast of the Annunciation (precisely nine months before December 25th. Now it all makes sense!).

Most Florentines these days don't even seem to know this is a holiday for them, but if you make your way to the oldest Renaissance piazza, it is not so quiet as it usually is.

Today, on this feast day of the annunciation, it looks like a little carnival, with everything from fried things and hot dogs to lampredotto sandwiches. I actually ate a lampredotto sandwich.. something I'd said I wouldn't do upon first hearing of it. It's not exactly the first thing that comes to mind when thinking of Italian delicacies, but as it is a Florentine favorite, I had to try it. With the presence of lampredotto, you'd probably already guessed that Italian fairs don't quite look like Mississippi fairs. The sweet tea is replaced with bottles of wine. Cheesy fries are replaced with a selection of locally produced, artisan cheeses; the funnel cakes with schiaccata bread. The chicken-on-a-stick is replaced with prosciutto, or the whole pig...

There were plenty of goods for sale, also. I stopped at the first booth to buy some kitchen towels. There was such a variety of little booths, though: the stand with artificial flowers; a hippie stand, too, with clothing and such; a little man selling cd's out of the back of his van; the Native Americans selling, well, Native American things; and the cheap make-up booth. There were a few that were not quite so out of place like the woodworker, but for the most part, it was a strange combination of a carnival, a renaissance re-enactment and a flea market, with some Native Americans thrown in on the side.



My school had sent out an e-mail letting us know there would be a parade, but as it was past the scheduled time, I'd begun to think they'd been misinformed. We were just about ready to leave the festivities, having had our fill of Italian fried foods, when we heard trumpets and drums. What more do you need to have a parade, I ask you? Women in long, renaissance-period dresses with flowers in their hands, and men dressed in renaissance suits complete with feathers, tights, and cute little matching shoes.


They marched through the piazza and across the crosswalk and right into the church. We, naturally, followed them inside. The nave was now bursting with colors and feathers, but there was a steady stream of people heading further into the church. We followed, once again, expecting a further continuance of the renaissance-clad procession. Instead, we found that we were intruding on mass, and not wishing to be disrespectful, retreated back to the nave. The sea of colors was still waiting right there. We snapped a few more pictures and returned to the carnival outside. A few minutes later, the drums and trumpets started up again and the procession left in the same manner as they had arrived.

Happy New Year!

I fully believe Venice is the most picturesque city on earth.

I don't think I'm exaggerating this claim either. Because I am not perfectly qualified to make this statement, having seen very little of the world's greatest cities, you may doubt me, but I stand by this belief until someone can prove to me otherwise.


It is a city unlike any other. There are no cars. Not one. All traffic on the bridges is pedestrian, unless you count the children with their three-wheeled scooters as other than foot traffic. As there are no cars nor roads, to speak of, there are ample wooden boats and canals. The public transportation system is a line of ferries. The taxis are gorgeous chestnut-colored boats. There's a fire-boat, and there are police boats. My favorite, though, was the long, thin, glossy black gondola. And what could make such an ideal little boat better but a gondolier in a striped shirt and straw hat (complete with ribbon) who sings to you? Meet Fabio. He's Venetian, born and raised and has been working as a gondolier for 23 years with 5 years of training before that. As we punt (that is the correct term, is it not?) through the little canals marked for gondola-traffic only, he explains little facts and tidbits of Venice to us, breaking his speech up periodically to act as the paparazzi for us. Under each bridge, he lets out a few lines of a song about Venice or gondolas or Italy which would reverberate perfectly off the stone then off the water again. Each passing gondolier greets Fabio with such joviality that I'm sure we've selected the best gondolier in Venice to be our guide. The gondolas come at a steep cost to their owners (around 20,000 euro) so they take very good care of them so as not to bump the walls or the other boats in the very narrow canals. Fabio seems quite used to maneuvering these streets, as he should be after twenty-eight years; he balances on one foot and kicks off the walls, all the while singing and smiling. He knows that he has one of the best occupations in the world--to tour daily one's favorite city and show others its beauty.

After our gondola ride, we made our way to Saint Mark's square. It was not flooded the whole time we were there. I'm not really sure whether to be glad of this fact or not. They had raised walkways prepared to lay out when necessary. As there was no water in the square, the sidewalk cafes, which can hardly be called such at those prices, had commandeered the area for their outdoor seating. One even had a grand piano rolled out for the entertainment of its patrons. The waiters stood there with their bowties... they were less inclined to convince people to join them for lunch than other sidewalk cafes. Usually, you see, the host accosts you and pleads with you and does his utmost to convince you either by way of flattery or other that you should stop and have lunch at his cafe. These on the other hand, act as if their livelihoods did not depend upon the tourists that flock to that square. It was rather pleasant to be able to walk by at a leisurely pace, though, which is impossible with the aforementioned type of host by whom you have to sprint in order to make it safely to the other side.


St. Mark is supposedly buried in Venice, hence the name of the cathedral. The cathedral was built sometime after the crusades had begun. As Venice is a port city, it saw many of the returning crusaders, who in turn, brought back ideas of art and architecture from the near east. San Marco is dripping with middle eastern influence, which really sets it apart from other cathedrals such as Florence's Duomo. The inside is covered from floor to dome(s) in tiny gold mosaics. On the terrace, there are four horses, which were brought over from Constantinople. These horses seem the height of Renaissance accomplishment, but they are not. They are, in fact, much older. Historians surmise they date back at least to the 2nd century AD but possibly to the 4th century BC. The method of casting these bronze statues was lost for centuries, as was the method of building a free standing dome (like the Pantheon) and the methods of concrete. Today, it seems, with all the added technology, we have lost more than just the methods but also the love of such things. In an age of creating things in the fastest and cheapest way possible, we have lost much of the beauty and grandeur that comes with doing them as they did of old.

I almost forgot. I found my favorite coffee shop on a little street in Venice. The middle of the street (there are no cars, remember, to get in the way) is the home of a fruits and vegetables market. The side shops are mostly selling Murano glass trinkets. And there, in the middle of it all, is my coffee shop. As you walk in, you see ahead of you the coffee roaster (a beautiful sight, but even better are the smells!), to your right are piled bags of coffee beans shipped from Costa Rica. The wall is covered in news and magazine articles attesting to the many perfections of this little coffee shop and relating stories of how they survive each time the waters of Venice flood into their little establishment. On the left is the bar where they have the coffee cups all set out already in preparation for the deluge of visitors who will soon set in. On the wall behind the bar, they have their different roasts on display, they have tea leaves in little jars and spices, all of which you can purchase by l'etto (100 grams). I had Venetian style coffee that morning: cafe (that is, espresso shot), cacao, e schiuma di latte (foam). Mmmmm.

I wish I could better put into words what Venice is like. A girl in Katie's language class said, "Venezia è come un sogno." We chuckled at the cheese embodied in such a statement, but having been, we have to agree: Venice is like a dream.

Roma part 2

We spent so long in the Roman Forum that they were no longer allowing entry to the Colosseum by the time we got there. Instead, we went to the Spanish steps where we had gelato and people watched like Princess Ann and waited for Gregory Peck to come along. He didn't show. Since we were so close by, though, we stopped by his house at via Marguta 51. This is the address they give in the movie, and it's actually the right place! The sign said no trespassing in multiple languages, but I took a peek up the stairs anyway. I couldn't find the exact house, but I could tell that it was definitely the right area. It's a really artsy neighborhood now, so it looks quite different.


The week before going to Rome, there had been a visitor at our Thursday night Bible studies. He's from New Orleans but has been living in Rome for several years now. He told us about the church he attends in Rome, which settled our plans for staying the entire weekend there rather than just a Friday & Saturday trip. After church, we went to the Trevi fountain and had gelato, which is the only way to truly enjoy such a monument if you hadn't noticed, at least the only way that is allowable. Dancing in the fountain La Dolce Vita style if frowned upon these days. We threw the coins in over our shoulder so that we' be sure to come back to Rome again.

From there, we returned to the Colosseum. It is bigger than most (if not all) of the modern stadiums in Italy. It would be amazing to open it back up for soccer matches. I think many would frown on this, however...Katie didn't like the suggestion. It is strange to think of it though: this ancient ruin is basically a glorified stadium. If we were back in its heyday, there would probably be little wine bars and popcorn stands. A cotton candy vendor walking up and down the stairs, gelato on the corner, souvenirs and cheesy photo ops. There are, of course, much more serious associations with the Colosseum. Yes, it was a stadium that held 70,000 viewers, but what were they watching? They were there cheering on the deaths of countless men. Many of those were our predecessors in this world, being martyred for the cause of Christ, to the great entertainment of many. It was a very sobering thought, to stand there, not in the middle of the arena but in the stands, looking on.
Those coins into the Trevi seem to be working as we'll be back in Rome very soon to finish seeing the sites. Next time: Sistine Chapel, top priority, lines of fellow gawkers or no.

Vacazione Romana (Pt. 1)

Rome. The Eternal City. It does not have such a name because Audrey Hepburn and Gregory Peck filmed a movie there in 1953, yet when we were planning our trip to Rome, it was at the forefront of our minds. We wanted to retrace the steps of Princess Anne rather than those of Julius Caesar or Pope Urban. [Unfortunately for us, Gregory Peck was not included in our re-creation of Roman Holiday.] The first thing we wanted to do when we arrived was find a place to cut our hair off. “All off!” Places these days like appointments, however, so that had to be postponed until morning.


We contented ourselves then with Vatican City. St. Peter’s really is absolutely awe-inspiring. It is marble from top to bottom; a beautiful dome with little baby domes all alongside the nave; angels and other sculptures on every surface... Michelangelo’s Pieta is also there, but I’ll let Katie tell you about that. The Swiss guard wear funny clothes. I’m not really sure what the perks are to their job besides location. There were hardly any people there, but I can’t even imagine what it will be like on Easter Sunday!

I’ve been planning to cut my hair off in order to send it to Locks of Love. This combined with the Roman Holiday theme necessitated the length of my hair. Locks of Love asks for ten inches. I’ve been looking at my hair for the last couple of weeks thinking that there is no way I can take off ten inches and still have any hair. I looked up some pictures of short hairstyles, translated ten inches into centimeters and triple-checked the length requirements for donation. I went armed with all this information into the salon. The lady cutting my hair didn’t speak English, and I was far too nervous to think up anything at all in Italian. I showed her my pictures, and Katie and Beka did most of the talking for me. When we told her the length the ponytail had to be she did a double-take at my hair, further making me question my decision. Vente-cinque? Si. She rummaged through her little toolbox and found a measuring tape. Measured my hair. Lengthened the tape. Measured again. She let me give one last look at my hair then began cutting. Then she handed me my ponytail. That is a weird sensation, I must say. She asked if it was okay if my hair wasn’t as short as the picture I had showed her. She figured it would be alright, though, as I almost cried when the ponytail came off. I didn’t really almost cry. Really. But I guess I looked it. Oh well. “All off.”

This took longer than we'd planned, so we had to run off to see everything else. We hit up the Pantheon first. Then coffee at the most popular cafe in Rome. It is also where "Rocca's" in Roman Holiday was... most likely. Everything in Rome is something famous. We were riding around on the bus and Beka tells us to look at to the left where the Theatre Marcellus is just barely off the highway. Above it are Rome's most expensive real estate. Can you imagine living atop ancient ruins? And not being in ancient times, that is. It's one thing for Julius Caesar and Nero to walk around here and another thing entirely for someone in 2010 to live there. Can you imagine giving someone your address? I live at Teatro di Marcello due... We had lunch a stone's throw away from where Julius Caesar was murdered. And when I say, "a stone's throw," I don't mean if we'd rounded a corner or two and stood on our tip-toes, I mean that if I'd picked up a pebble a couple thousand years ago, I could have tossed it onto the platform from which he spoke, "Et tu, Brute?"

We crossed the Tiber a time or two, walked through the Jewish ghetto (not from WW2, the older one: the one from when Rome first conquered Jerusalem in 70 AD), the temple of Hercules, and other famous things ancient and not so ancient on our way to La Bocca della Verità. Legend has it that if you're a liar, the mouth will eat your hand off. This is where Joe Bradley pulled a Red Skelton on Princess Ann.

We went to Michelangelo's Capitoline Hill then to Palatine Hill where Romulus pitched his hut as did Augustus Caesar his palace. Palatine Hill is connected to the Roman Forum. Ancient Ruins are not hard to come by in Rome, in case you hadn't already gathered as much. But it is really incredible to stand somewhere and think of how much history that little clump of dirt or piece of stone or moss or whatever has seen. Standing at the Roman Forum, you can just imagine Senators giving rousing speeches and debating the finer points of patrician politics or, later, of Caesars being lauded by their loyal subjects and striving to achieve deity status. Walk a little ways up to Palatine Hill and there's a house. This is where Augustus Caesar's wife, Livia'a house has been excavated. We've been told, though we're not entirely positive on its accuracy, that frescoes, once painted, stay the same color. If this is indeed the case, then the walls inside this house we were seeing looked the exact same as they did for Livia and Augustus. Well, maybe not the exact same. I'm sure the walls were complete at that time rather than excavated ruins, but you get the picture. It just blows my mind. The view from the top of Palatine Hill was just wonderful, too.

...more soon...