Fin

As summer starts to kick in, I thought I would finish this thing off right with "the final post". I have had a wonderful welcome home and it has been a nice two weeks back in Charlotte. Tomorrow, I set off for my next adventure working at Gwynn Valley in Brevard, North Carolina. I have had a lot of time to reflect over my experience in Italy and there are some things I know I did right and others that I wish I had changed. That being said I have no regrets and when people ask about my semester, my response of "Wonderful" is no lie.

I never updated on my last days in Italy. My mom and I after a couple of relaxing days in Florence (exams were over, and finally I was free to play tour guide) set off to the Tuscan town of Cortona. Most of you may know if from the movie (and book), "Under the Tuscan Sun" (which my mother and I downloaded on iTunes after we left). I however know it through the eyes of a wonderful italian friend, Rosy, wife of one of the artists who has worked with my mom. It was incredible to travel through the countryside with someone who knows about it best. Rosy showed us around all of the sights near Cortona and showed us a good time with all of her fascinating friends. Eat, drink, and be merry has never been so appropriate. Cortona is a beautiful hill town the overlooks the valleys of Tuscany. You have to walk up a hill to get anywhere, but it is all worth it, as every turn is another picture perfect image. We spent hours talking with Rosy, eating bruschetta, drinking Prosecco, talking politics, etc. I tell everyone I felt like I was in the Great Gatsby when meeting the intellectuals who Rosy luckily calls friends. We visited St. Francis's cell as well as a fort that gave incredible views. It was a wonderful time spent and that was only day one.

Amalfi Coast was more spectacular than I had imagined. It was Cinque Terre on a bigger scale. Getting there was however pretty exhausting. After 3 trains and 2 bus rides we finally made it up to our incredible bed and breakfast "Colle Dell'Ara" owned and run by 3 brothers. It was in the mountains above Positano to reach it we had to hike up about half a mile. The views were absolutely amazing. My mom and i both agreed that we were glad we chose something away from the town, as it gave us a different viewpoint of the land. That night, we had an awesome dinner at a local restaurant "Fattoria La Tagliata" where they have a set menu fit with antipasti, primi piatti, secondi piatti, and dessert. By the end of it all we could not move and the hike up to the bed and breakfast was harder than expected. Luckily, the next day our stomaches had settled and we were able to set out into Positano and explore. It was a cloudy and cold day, so we spent our time looking at shops and hanging out drinking tea by the shore. That night we relaxed at the bed and breakfast and instead of stuffing our faces we decided to pick up some cheese bread and tomatoes for dinner.

The next day, we set off to Capri at 9:15 in the morning. We were able to catch a boat there and it gave us a tour around the island. When we got there, we found some friends we had met on the bus ride to Positano from Chicago, so we sat and talked and ate pastries before setting off into the town.

 My mom and I decided to skip the ritzy areas of Capri and hike on the outer part of the island to The Natural Arc and other trails. I still can't get over how incredibly beautiful it was and how blue the water was shining through the canopy of trees and rock formations. After a couple of hours, we were back to the main stretch of the city and we thought we would check out another trail to another lookout point. However, the directions didn't come as easy this time and we ended up taking back roads down to the Small Arena. Still, it was beautiful. We were fortunately able to take a bus back up the island and had a small late afternoon snack and enjoyed the sun. It was then already time to head back to the boat. Oh... but wait. Where did we get off the boat? It seems that both my mom and I were too in awe of the beauty of Capri to make sure we knew where to get back on the boat.

 Finally we hopped on another that was headed to Positano and 5 minutes later I was passed out. The day took a larger toll on me than I expected and a cold was started to set in. We finally arrived back to Positano after another beautiful boat ride (that I was half asleep for) and had the meal I had been waiting for in the south of Italy. Seafood! Pasta! Wine! My mom ordered pasta with shrimp and I had linguine with clam sauce. Of course, we shared each others and barely had time to talk between the mmm's and the eating. It was my first time having clams, and I was not disappointed!

We headed back up to the bed and breakfast for another early night (after another long and eventful day) to get ready for the next day. This was our last sunset in Positano and we were sad to wave the beautiful scenery goodbye. In the morning, we packed everything up and set off to hike the "Sentiero Degli Dei" or the Path of the Gods. We only could hike about an hour in because we had to catch a bus (then another bus, then a train, then another train, then another train, then a shuttlebus....) for Rome. The path was incredible and we were sad we could not go further, but it left us some imagination and the need to come back someday. The rest of the day was spent traveling (7 hours of it, to be exact) and finally I went to bed for the last time before heading back to Charlotte in the morning. It was an incredible end to an incredible semester. I still have images of mountains, renaissance art, good food and sunsets dancing in my head, or is that on facebook as I retreat to the pictures of summer study abroad students in Italy? Both, I guess.

Well... I guess this is goodbye for now. See you soon with other adventures to come. Ciao Ciao!

Finalmente (Finally): Our stair-step journey

First, my apologies to the blogmaster (daughter Ainslie) and her followers for taking so long to post. Naturally I had intended to do it immediately after our return from Italy. It’s been a month. Yet I think about our travels every day and look at the photos we snapped with a yearning to go back.

As the blogmaster (Ainslie) wrote in her introduction, I traveled to Italy with KT – my best bud, my confidante, my traveling compatriot – for 10 days. You could call it our “stair step, or “Stair Master” journey, for Italy seemed to be a country of steps – narrow, tall concrete steps; rock steps up and down all the 443 bridges in Venice; steps into the terraced hills overlooking the Italian Riviera and the five-village cluster of Cinque Terre.

A sampling: we climbed the 414 steps of the Campanile, the bell tower that shadows and eyeballs the ancient Duomo, Brunelleschi’s iconic dome that commands the Florence skyline and that Michelangelo described as a cricket cage. We scooted up the 33 steps, then down the 33 steps on the other side of the famed Rialto Bridge in Venice, then the 63 steps up to Luca’s apartment, our quarters in that mudflat city of canals and alleys. And we trudged up and down at least 2,000 steps along our hike into the mountains from Corniglia to Manarola in Cinque Terre.

It’s a good thing. I ate way too much gelato and cannolis. And I can’t forget the pizza. Ah, the pizza. Best I’ve ever consumed. The worst in Italy was far, far better than what they serve up here.

We arrived in Italy, after flying over the Alps from Munich, about lunchtime Florence time and met Ainslie at the train station. First order of business: Find the apartment we had rented off airbnb.com (a great website for all you travelers) from Marta, a sweet Florentine who owns two apartments overlooking the open market in Florence. Marta was waiting for us when we arrived, lugging our baggage. We got our first taste of steps – 15 of them to our charming apartment. Marta stocked our apartment with a bottle of wine, pastries, milk, coffee and orange juice.

After getting Marta’s instructions and keys, we set out walking in this incredible city that is a shrine to the Renaissance movement, born here in the 14^th  century. I was enthralled with the art and age. Everywhere there were sculpture and frescos. Great palaces had been turned into museums.  It was like Michelangelo, Leonardo (and we’re not talking about Dicaprio here), Donatello, Dante and Bellini still walked the streets. I couldn’t stop looking up. The architecture, ornate yet tasteful, was magnifico.

 Our second order of business was lunch: pizza for everyone. Ainslie took us to the best pizza joint in Florence: Gusto. But its line was out the door. So we found another place nearby that didn’t have a line. I ordered a funghi pizza and proclaimed it favoloso. Ainslie assured me there was better pizza to be eaten in Florence.

Fortified, we struck out again, and wound our way around the Duomo to Ainslie’s apartment that she shares (past tense now) with five other UNC women. Their kitchen window framed the Duomo. It was that close. How cool. After a tour of the apartment, jet lag set in and we left Ainslie and found our way back to Marta’s apartment. We spent three nights in Florence and late afternoons walked to the other side of the Arno River to climb the 84 steps up a hill overlooking Boboli Gardens that offers a panoramic view of Florence to watch the sun dip from view. What an amazing way to end three amazing days.

While Ainslie finished up classes before her Easter break, Katy and I trained to Cinque Terre for a couple of days and to Corniglia, the middle village of five. Since Corniglia is the least accessible (from the train you have to take a shuttle or climb the 330 steps to reach it), the village is the least touristy and thusly the most intimate of the five.

It was raining when we arrived, so we took the shuttle up a windy (often perilously) road to Corniglia and followed directions that Lisabetta (she, too, was delightful, full of Italian charm and energy) had given us to the apartment we rented from her. From a balcony on the second floor, over the terra cotta shingled roof, we had a beautiful view of the Italian Riviera.

Since Corniglia is less touristy, there are fewer restaurants from which to choose, and it seems many of them don’t keep to a consistent schedule. We probably spent two hours walking the streets and alleys trying to decide among the eateries that were open on a Monday night, then seeing more steps to wander up and down exploring – and finally at about 9:30 p.m. we just decided on paninis and a bottle of Cinque Terre wine in a small beer joint. It couldn’t have been a nicer way to end that day.

The next day was a hiking day. Since much of the trail that linked the five villages was still closed because of the October floods (see Ainslie’s previous blog post on her visit to Cinque Terre) we hit the trail behind Corniglia’s dominant church and started the trek up. And up and up. After an hour, we were still going up, rock step after rock step. And the higher we went, the more magnifico the view. From here, you could see how the multi-colored villages clung to steep cliffs, all but Corniglia stuttering down to the water.

The hills/mountains that overlook Cinque Terre are terraced with grapevines and olive trees (wherever we ate, the proprietor brought us a bowl of Cinque Terre-grown olives while we waited for our meals). If we hadn’t climbed the trails, we’d not have understood the local farming, with the single-rail funicular lifts built up the mountains so farmers can get supplies to their vineyards.

Three hours later, we made it to the next village, Manarola. We did stop along the way to gawk at the views. We met Germans, Italians, Americans, French and two women from New Zealand. Manarola was totally different from Corniglia. Full of life and restaurants – and tourists. Near the water we sat and watched five Italian men dicker over the sale of a fishing boat – or at least that’s what we thought they were doing. It was hard to tell if the sale was going well for the owners – we left before the deal was sealed.

There I found this quote about Cinque Terre inscribed on a wall from the Italian writer Giacomo Bracelli: It really is a sight to behold mountains that are not merely steep, but are veritable crags over which birds can hardly fly. So stony as to fail to retain any moisture, but yet covered with vines so thirsty and delicate as to resemble ivy rather than vine. Here they make wine fit to adorn the tables of kings.

From Manarola, we walked to Riomaggiore, which only took 20 minutes along the Via dell’Amore. And from there we took the train to the village on the opposite end – Monterosso al Mare. Then it was back to Corniglia and a restaurant near our apartment known for its pesto lasagna. Of course, I ordered that. Unbelievably good. Cinque Terre is known as the birthplace of pesto.

The next day, we said goodbye to Cinque Terre, and trained back to Florence to pick up Ainslie and train to Venice. What a city! A city of decay and decadence. A city that exudes power and elegance.

 I’ve wanted to see Venice all my life -- just to witness how it could still stand after so many thousands of years. I read a story about the restoration of a theater in Venice and, since the theater was on an historical site, the architects had to bore through the foundation to find the foundation of Marco Polo’s childhood home underneath. And under Marco Polo’s home, they found another foundation and another under that foundation that dates back to the 8^th century.

 Which proves that the waters of Venice continue to rise and the city keeps raising itself to survive. Truth is: Venice is built on top of millions of wooden pilings sunk into the muck of a mudflat. Beautiful palaces, churches, cobbled alleys – built on top of muck. How does it stand and not fall from its own weght and the changing tides?

After the train from Florence, we took a vaporetto (water bus) to our apartment (also rented from airbnb.com) past St. Mark’s Square and near the city’s arsenale. Passing under the famous Rialto Bridge, I looked back to snap a photo, and there hanging from the bridge was a banner advertising my nephew (Ainslie’s cousin’s) BJ’s documentary (he is co-director and it had opened at the Venice Film Festival) about the late Vogue editor Diana Vreeland. Actually as we later discovered it wasn’t a banner advertising the movie, but an exhibit connected to the movie. Still, I shouted: “Ainslie, there’s BJ’s movie!” We got a wonderful rush and I thought: My, how small the world really is!

 We stayed at Luca’s apartment, a charming flat 63 steps up. Luca was off celebrating Easter, but his parents from Trieste (1 ½ hours away) were there to greet us. What lovely people. And talk about energy. They were the essence of Italian expressiveness.

After they left, we struck out into the city. Like Florence, art was everywhere. It is a city of riddles – of Verdi, Vivaldi; Hemingway, Ezra Pound and a cast of colorful American expatriates, including Peggy Guggenheim. Of masks. Of footsteps and the singsong of different languages and dialects that aren’t drowned out by cars or vegetation. Of narrow streets and alleys – and 443 bridges over canals – forming a great maze where getting lost is part of the experience and expands the mystery. Travel, of course, is by foot, or a variety of boats: including water taxis or buses, or the famous Venetian gondolas. It was quite a spectacle.

We ate. We walked. We climbed steps and descended. We traveled across the Grand Canal to a museum to see photographer Elliott Erwitt’s “personal best” exhibit. We traveled to Murano, known for its Venetian glass, and nearby Burano, known for its lace and colorful buildings.

We walked. We ate. We snapped photos, constantly enthralled by the beauty and mystery of this once great European power.  On Easter morning, Katy went to a service at a nearby church and suddenly all the bells clanged throughout the city. After her return, we set out for one last look at Venice. Rain threatened, but we kept trudging through the city – looking for the Fenice Opera House. Katy and I had been reading John Berendt’s book about Venice’s famous opera house, which in 1996 burned from a spectacular fire.

Like Berendt’s “Savannah book” this book was a travelogue devoted to Venice. We had to see the Fenice – restored, not to its original elegance. Yet still elegant and as close to the original as the Venetians could rebuild.

We took a self-guided tour with headsets, then it was back to Luca’s apartment to collect our things and train back to Florence for a day. The next day we left Florence – and Ainslie -- at the train station and flew home.

I couldn’t – and can’t  – wait for her return home. Christie is with her now, and after a week of travel, they fly back to Charlotte. I know this is long-winded (it wouldn’t surprise my editors at The Charlotte Observer) but I can’t close without writing this: I was delighted to see how Ainslie had blossomed from her “European experience.” Not too many years ago, she was girl who’d go to sleepovers and call at 2 a.m. because she was “homesick” and wanted to come home. Now she is a young woman of the world, ably navigating the globe like Marco Polo of Venice on his way to China.

I couldn’t be prouder of her.

My Thoughts on Studying Abroad

About a year and a half ago, in my freshman year of college, I told a couple of my friends that I was toying with the idea of studying abroad the next year. I was really into the idea, as my freshman year was not as expected and I was ready to do something to really challenge myself in a way. However, most of my spur-of-the-moment ideas usually end in the romanticized world that I have created in my mind and stay there. Now, a year and a half later, I write to you sitting in my apartment 50 feet away from the Santa Maria del Fiore in Florence, Italy, where I have resided the past 4 months. About a week from now I will be on a plane back to Charlotte.

When I was little, I always thought I would study abroad in college; but never actually thought I would study abroad in college. (Does this make sense? No?) The world is so massive. And the idea of little me immersing myself into a different culture, place, region, time-zone on my own wasn't exactly something I thought a girl who cried when she spent the night a friends house 2 miles from her house would do. But I got older, and got a little more knowledgeable about the world around me (and a little less homesick). So I finally took that step out of my romanticized world and applied for the study abroad program in Florence, Italy and I am changed for the better because of that one leap.

Europe isn't exactly the most remote area in the world, or the biggest challenge to live in. It is a very wealthy continent (in respect to other parts of the world) and is technologically advanced. But it is a place or region that I have always wanted to experience. And Italy, for whatever reason (I think it was the food--- now it's so much more), was the dream country, the dream destination. And because of study abroad I not only finally got my chance to visit, but to LIVE there. And truly live. People express that going off to college immediately grants you the freedom of living on your own. Which, yes, in some cases it does. But in most cases, you are still in a dorm, on the campus of an institution abiding by its rules, eating in its cafeteria, etc. With study abroad, you are literally dropped into a culture that is completely foreign and forced to experience the world on your own and you are forced to learn HOW you personally live. You may not know the language spoken there, you may not know the traditions, the politics, the polite thing to do, the people... oh but you will.

Study abroad is an experience more than a classroom; its one where you learn about life as well-- which in my opinion, may be even more important. You learn how to travel, how to plan, how to organize, how to be PATIENT and ultimately what is best for you/what you want in life. It would be cliche to say, I studied abroad to see if I could "find myself" but in a way, I have and I have started to understand how I would like my life to be lived. (Really, I'm still clueless... but I've made baby steps towards the right direction...) Do I work well in a city, did I enjoy the countryside more? I really enjoyed meeting this person, and enjoyed learning about that person's lifestyle. I felt more alive when I was here, than when I was there. The lists, the questions, the critiques go on and on.

But really guys, why am I writing this? It's a reflection of sorts, but I also wanted to let the people who think they "are going to miss out on things" are really not. Because every place you visit and every decision you make while studying abroad is an experience so grand that it knocks out anything you are missing at home, (yes, even when the president, (two?) talk show hosts, and two bands all visiting your school in a matter of 24 hours). I'd be lying if I said I wasn't excited to go back home and situate myself back into my life. But home will ALWAYS be there waiting for you. Choose a place you've always wanted to go, and go. And learn (maybe not solely in the classroom...) but in the streets, in the museums, the mountains, the parks, even the supermarkets... And live.

The Final Days

It's getting closer to the end everyday, with my last real class of the semester done with, I can actually taste the salty air that will come with the Amalfi Coast the few days before I leave to go back home. I am ready to go home, ready for the summer, and for a different scenery, but with that being said, I will obviously miss my experiences here and am trying to squeeze out the last few things I wanted to do before leaving Florence. Luckily, Florence has been so kind to give us some extra fun lately before the semester comes to a close. 

Labor Day was on Tuesday, and the night before everyone hit the streets in the wee hours of the night to celebrate "Notte Bianca" or White Night. Everyone was supposed to dress in white and enjoy the incredible festivities arranged in almost every piazza of the city, EVEN our little Piazza delle Pallotolle (still don't know truly how to spell that...) where we stepped out onto the stage when we stepped out of our door. Surprise guest appearances, I guess? I was really impressed with how many people attended the event and the size of the event in general. (Think Franklin Street on Halloween (minus the"homegrown" part) times 50). Festivities were going on from 5:30 (or 17:30) pm to 5:30 in the morning! Museums, shops, restaurants were all open later than usual, some the whole night, and bands were playing in every corner of the city. The city hall even had a DJ from its window (shown below). However, my favorite part was stumbling upon an italian cover band whose set list ranged from Smells Like Teen Spirit by Nirvana to Knockin on Heaven's Door by Bob Dylan. The whole crowd, of italians no less, knew every word. It was a fabulous way to bring in the New Year--- oh just kidding--- this was for LABOR day...

Florence is known for its art, for its food, and for its highly fashionable citizens, however its not quite Michelangelo's David of the Italian soccer world. Nevertheless, I was NOT going to leave Europe without seeing a european soccer game first. It's not only on my Semester bucket list, but also something that I have always wanted to experience ever since I tried on my first pair of soccer cleats at the age of 5. And even though half of the stadium was empty, the crowd had more intensity than most Carolina games, Panthers games, and umm... Bobcats games. Everyone screaming in unison the different chants that I'm sure have been passed down since they were little kids. Flags, as tall as 4 people combined, blowing in the wind, showcasing messages like FIRENZE OVUNQUE (Florence Everywhere) and FORZA VIOLA (Strong Purple...). Last night was definitely one of the best experiences I have had in Florence thus far, joining the fans around me in cheers of Joy when Florence tied up the game. It was carefree and just plain fun. I, of course, would love to see another European game of greater value one day, but I was more than happy to cheer for the city I have called home these past 4 months for my first game experience.

This weekend will be my last full weekend in Florence! (and I really hope that I won't just be studying for exams the whole time since last weekend was full of pens and paper and my art project) I've got the art show on the fifth for our Sketchbook class, as do most of the students in art classes at LdM. I'm excited to see what kind of work everyone has produced! And of course, we are trying to go to as many restaurants as possible that we may have missed out on during the semester (and returning to a few--- Baldovino perhaps?) My mom comes next wednesday, and we are headed south on the 12th. I can not believe everything is coming to an end, but I am excited for the days and weeks to come.