inside Rhodes » Jenny

The Italian Chapter to End All Others

Jenny — Mon, 09 Jun 2008 20:38:34 +0000

The red tiled passage used to be a private passage for aristocrats to travel between their palace and their offices (now the Uffizi Gallery) over the Ponte Vecchio (Florence’s only bridge that survived WWII bombing) without having to mingle with the commoners. Petty but pretty, eh? I took this shot from inside the Uffizi, which houses some extraordinarily famous art, including Sandro Botticelli’s The Birth of Venus and La Primavera (see full painting), and works by Raffaello Sanzio (aka Raphael, the purple-banded Ninja Turtle), Caravaggio (notably Medusa), Rosso Fiorentino, and Parmigianino (Madonna of the Long Neck).

::CLICK THUMBNAIL TO ENLARGE AND STEP INSIDE::

In front of Palazzo Vecchio, the Old Palace, from Uffizi balcony

Volterra, Toscana: appropriately built on a hill of earth.

Vineyard… the wine food group is an important part of daily nutrition, ask any Italian. If you are interested in learning more about Italian wine, let me know! I’d be happy to help.

Piazza della Vittoria! Favorite slanty trees in the city, reminded me of home…

Now for some graffiti mania:

Regrettably, I never captured one of the best stencils that I saw, but maybe you can imagine a stencil of Pavarotti (of the Three Tenors) with his arms spread in a gesture of song, “BIG LUCIANO”.

Some photos of from my trip across Tuscany to Cecina that I consider must sees:

”The White Beach” of Cecina

Well, this is it, the end of the rabbit hole. All spring semesters have to end some time, and this one took a lifetime plus two and still went by so quickly that my wheels are left spinning. What do I make of the whole thing? These four months of breaking and re-making an entire perspective of the global community? What a question to have to ask yourself…right now I’m trapped in a state of General Amazement. I’m back at home, looking at the final results, the last photos, still using an Italian dictionary to write e-mails to my new buddies. There’s no doubt that there has been growth, change, and some metamorphosis involved here, but coming home is entirely too distracting to put my finger on what that change is, yet. My friends who have travelled abroad described something like this to me, but it is hard to believe how disorienting your own home can be. I’m happy to be home (Baton Rouge, LA), there are things about the US (and people!) that I missed while I was away, but the line between the familiar and the unfamiliar is suddenly blurry… am I more familiar with how I’ve learned to do things this year, or with how I used to do things before that? I think the confusion will work itself out quietly in another week or two, but it sure is an odd sensation! For instance, reaching for the light switch in my bedroom, my hand always reaches a foot too low on the wall– where an Italian switch would be!

Stuff I Already Miss About Italy: the food, the chivalry, the Arno River, the shoes, the cappuccinos, the McD’s of quality, the vaulted ceilings and doorways, the sea.

Stuff I Never Thought I’d Miss About America, but DID: grass and big trees, Payless shoes, Mexican food, stand-up comedy (all right I expected that), American movies not dubbed in Italian, affordable beer, football, pervasive allusions to Cajun French.

Which reminds me: cross your fingers for tonight’s last baseball game in the super regional series, my very own LSU vs. Irvine! Geaux Tigers!!!

You can expect a BR update very soon…this is your Italian correspondent signing out,

Jenny

Stessa Spiaggia, Stesso Mare

Jenny — Tue, 06 May 2008 17:16:04 +0000

“Same beach, same sea:” lyrics from an Italian song from the 60s, and it really is true– Italian families traditionally go to the same vacation spot year after year, and that same stretch of land takes on a special significance. I went to one of these stretches of sand on the coast this past weekend, in the town of Cecina, which is farther south on the west coast of the Tuscany region. You are looking at the Tyrrhenian Sea, part of the greater Mediterranean Sea.

The first time I saw the sea, the first time I saw the blue sea, I couldn’t help but get a little emotional. The sand is dark brown, and instead of pastel shells it is lined with richly-hued stones: green, orange, brown, black, even purple. It’s enough to make me want to learn more precise color names. I would show you more pictures, but my public computer is not too keen on letting me.

And then there is the water. I couldn’t look at it for too long at one time, because I got that emotion again. I have no idea what it must be like to look at the sea casually, as the landscape of the daily grind, and I’m glad to keep it that way.

Salt breeze, warm sun, cool water–but too cold to swim in. I thought it was pretty hilarious that everyone was at this gorgeous beach and no one was diving in, right up until the first little gush of water ran over my toes. Holy WOW! It was enough to make me dance like a monkey trying to scramble up the stones to dry land, thinking, maybe lying on the beach isn’t so bad after all. Imagine, beneath a blazing sun, but the gentle wind keeps you from feeling hot. Sun-worshippers have it easy here! And compared to most of the beach-goers, I had the complexion of a ghost. The guy behind the counter made fun of me for buying “children’s sunscreen” that was 25 SPF. On top of that, it cost €2 more than 15 SPF, for “adults.” Obviously, I didn’t know anything about how to go to the seaside properly. The real slap in the face came when I realized that I didn’t even need the sunscreen…oh well, I tried.

I also took a trip with my program to a Chianti farm, aka vineyard and cellars. We also got to sample some products! (Pictures next time, I hope.)

Tonight the Teatro Communale is showing the highly anticipated production of Bizet’s Carmen. Now I’m off to listen to singing smugglers.

Back in the US in two weeks, a presto!

Jenny

Forza Viola!

Jenny — Tue, 29 Apr 2008 09:50:45 +0000

My sentimental, very first pro-sporting event! No, it’s not football, or futbol– it’s calcio! [kal-chyoh] Fiorentina vs. Sampdoria (in northern Italy near Genoa), rooting for the team in the manly shade of violet. Forza Viola!!! Go Florentine Violet!!!

The crowd is covered in violet and red, and they wave flags and scarves. You can also buy clothes for baby boys that boast “Future Viola” or “Born for Viola” etc. in every market. In fact, man woman and child are all proud to wear electric violet. It might not sound too strange in theory, but it’s one of those gender conditioning things– I’ve just never seen so many men willingly wear a “female” color. It was fantastic!

The fans of the opposing team were grouped together in the stands under a massive standard of (what else?) red white and blue. They were surrounded by security and thick glass, with the sections next to them kept roped off and empty. There have been some problems with violence in the stadium, so all of this precaution is habitual for sports fans.

Florence almost had the match in the bag, and about two minutes from the end Sampdoria tied it up, 2-2. Viola fans were devastated, it was hard for me to watch. Unlike American football, Italians allow a match to end in a tie, but it screws up the season rankings something awful. I don’t know why they do it. I wasn’t ready to leave the stadium until there was a winner and a loser!!!

Now like I said, I’ve never been to any American games, but I’m pretty sure the crowd doesn’t sing most of the time, right? So let me present another interesting fact of Italian soccer life: every team’s fan base has a set of songs/chants that they unleash at the appropriate moment. Something simple, like “Ooo-ooo-oo-OOO-ooo-oo Fiorentina!” or the more complex ”Vio-o-ole, forza Viole, Viole, Viole, Vio-o-ole!” There’s also a confident chant roughly translated to “You’re trash! Get the trash out of Florence!” When things get dicey, they whistle through their fingers with a significance that is similar to the strongest insults in the American language. I was impressed.

Then I noticed that the heaviest heckling was coming from the little boy sitting next to me. He must have been around ten years old, and he screamed Italian obscenities at the field for the majority of the game, his father sitting proudly beside him. I don’t think I can repeat the things that this kid said, and he definitely had a wider vocabulary than I did in this arena, but you can bet I was cracking up the whole time and trying not to turn away from the game to look at him. He was dressed like an angel, kind of like an Italian boyscout. That and the high voice killed me. Best seat in the house.

Other big news: I finally saw Michelangelo’s statue of David. If at least one thing in the world lives up to the hype, his name is David. They don’t let you take pictures, but compared to your memory, photos would only be disappointing to look at later. This is not even coming from an art freak, trust me, if you are ever NEAR Florence, David is worth the look, it has it’s own room built especially for it at the Galleria dell’Accademia.

The unexpected find: there is an offshooting museum from the Galleria that houses historical musical instruments, and I saw two Stradivariuses. A violin, and the only stringed instrument in the world made by Antonio Stradivari that has not had its neck or body altered, a tenor viola with the Medici family crest embedded in its fingerboard, nick-named “the Medici viola.” Tenor violas are now obsolete, because we have found ways to improve the sound of lower tones using the smaller-bodied alto viola, which is what you commonly see in orchestras today. So I’m standing in front of the glass cases, gaping at these freaking priceless instruments, and people walking past me are just bumping into me all the time. I think I would have liked for there to be a bench right there. I don’t know, maybe you’ve seen something that got you all stupid. It was like that. Amazing, the way the word really means it.

Stencil Recognition Test stencil graffiti has to be my favorite. Do you know this famous person?

Stylish shoes are an integral part of Italian life I’m going to be so good at walking after this. When I get home to real pavement, it will be like floating above the street!

*Correction: Italians don’t have trouble saying Jenny. I have trouble distinguishing between hearing “Jenny” and hearing “vieni.” It’s starting to click.

Off to write the last paper of the semester! Arrivederci!

Jenny

When on Roman Holiday…

Jenny — Mon, 14 Apr 2008 15:14:21 +0000

Rome: whoa. And I thought Florence was big…Rome has pockets of more city where the suburbs should be. I hopped on MY FIRST TRAIN RIDE EVER with my flatmate and her mosaics class– that’s right, they chop up bits of marble and granite and other pieces of hard stuff in class and then glue them to a slab of cement– and I saw sheep. I don’t think I’ve seen sheep, alive, since I was in Switzerland six years ago. I wonder what Louisiana humidity would do to a sheep? Would it be like putting a Jet-Puff marshmallow in the microwave? I would imagine.

We toured eight or nine churches looking exclusively for mosaics. I can’t say I’ve really payed attention to mosaics very much in the past, but apparently my opinion is relatively easy to sway in the course of a six-hour guided tour.

I’m not a big proponent of water, but I found myself in the rare circumstance of holding a bottle (naturale, not the local favorite frizzante– fizzy) while the sun simmered away at me and my shopping bags. I know. But the store was named Jenny, and that is one marketing scam I am happy to fall for every time. That’s when I realized: no one was telling me that I had to run if I wanted to catch the metro to see whatever sight so that I still had time to see whatever other sight. So I sat down and had a gelato, watched foreigners, tried to remember what Dutch sounded like, and told the nice guys who try to give you a rose as a gift (only for a small donation) that they really needn’t bother. I had everything I needed. I didn’t get around to seeing every major antiquity in Rome, but what I saw was more than enough for me to realize that I had grossly misjudged Rome. Yes, it is a tourist trap. Yes, people may rob you because it is not Disney World: Roman Empire Edition. But the people are friendly, and don’t hold it against you if you were not born and bred Italian. You don’t get any looks for walking down the street speaking English, or anything else, because foreigners run rampant. It is a city that is absolutely organized around international relations. My first stay in a youth hostel only emphasized this contrast with the countryside. And I finally met some Canadians!

Factoid of the week: When you step on a mosaic for several centuries, it adds a happy gloss to the piece. This floor is inside Basilica di S. Prassede:

Roman Cat There is a sanctuary for these guys inside the city. Romans have this superstitious thing about cats. I really don’t understand it, but perhaps that is because I am allergic.

“It bit me!” exclaims Justine. You must have seen the movie Roman Holiday, right?

Maelstrom Looking out from the Spanish Steps. By the way, Italians I spoke to have no idea why we call them the Spanish Steps.

Ruins and Palm Trees…It sort of reminds me of my high school. They’re remodelling.

Jesus within the Apostles The oldest Early Christian mosaic in Rome

Chiesa Santo Stefano Rotondo

I let Justine decorate me Relaxing in the Giardino della Orticultura, in Florence. Wild daisies don’t grow in my hometown, and that’s where I said too much.

Some things I won’t forget about Florence:

-Strangers say buongiorno to me every day in passing.

-You have to pay 3 cents for a plastic bag to haul your groceries out of the store.

-No matter how well I am doing the Florentine walk, I will always trip on a cobblestone and give myself away.

-If you encounter a misting rain, it is encouraged to put up your umbrella. Particularly if it a fasionable umbrella.

-Flip-flops are an incredibly bad idea for people who trip on cobblestones already.

-Learning to eat pizza with a fork and knife.

-Being corrected by an Italian on the proper way to eat string pasta… Bo. Whatever.

-It is unwise to throw the words “mafia,” “fascism,” and “immigrants” into casual conversation. Especially mafia. There is an MTV program counterintuitively named “Hitlist Italia,” showing old videos on request, but I really don’t think that was a product of the network’s brightest moment.

-Cooking a little, relying on the world’s best frozen pizzas a lot.

Now to the papers. Andiamo!

Jenny

Daytripping in the Tuscan Countryside

Jenny — Tue, 01 Apr 2008 10:09:52 +0000

Hi there. It’s me, the Sometime Yenny. I think “j” confuses Italians a little bit, since it’s not officially in their alphabet. But how can you hold a grudge against a people that upholds the traditional combination of fat and sugar, even against all warnings of modern science? I can’t be upset when I’m being fed. It’s a chemical impossibility.

Now, after ingesting some sort of contaminated raw meat and/or slightly rancid cheese, I have become acutely aware of the differences between my stomach and the average Italian steel trap. To my fellow world travellers: wherever you are going, there are several types of bacteria and viruses that you have –guaranteed– never encountered before and so lack immunity to in the most complete sense of the word “lack.” As in, wholly vulnerable to and most likely will have to lie in bed all of Easter weekend as a result of. Be more careful than Yenny.

Which leads me to Important Blog Point One:

While standing in front of my refrigerator one day, I had that first random thought that tells you, one day, in the far… far off future, you might actually have children. The offending thought? “I’m going to make my daughter be the cheese sniffer, since I obviously can’t tell, then it’ll be all good again.” What?! Wait, it actually would be a comfort in my old age….In any case, I blame my father, who has always needed a sniffer. And that’s how the cycle goes.

Important Blog Point Two:

Sometimes, you don’t need a plane ticket, just take a break from work and sit in some grass. I was lucky enough to have a very affordable daytrip where I could do just that. Florence is situated in a valley, and I went up into the mountains (Fiesole and Olmo) to do some nature basking and to get reaquainted with what a tree looks like in person. Every view was spectacularly beautiful (have a look!), and the land itself looked friendly. It was very relaxing, so I’m glad I didn’t push myself to do the typical European spring break, which might have landed me in a hospital anyway. Check out what Florence looks like from up here!

Instead of a shoulder, there’s a stone wall…yeah, I’m consistent in my driving wussiness

In Campagna the Tuscan countryside

Fiesole This town is surprisingly large, and has individually named sections. Lots of people commute to Florence for work, but there is still a lot to see here!

Can you spot the Duomo? Hint: the big brown dome

I’m afraid of heights, just thought I would mention it…

Multilingual Revolutionary Graffiti I’m a fan.

Back in Florence I feel more at home on the lowground. Factoid: Baton Rouge is approximately 15 feet above sea level.

And then I went to a Portishead concert! If you don’t them, check out a sample. They played in Florence in a smallish venue called Saschall, and it was appropriately amazing. I was pleased to find that a British band playing for a mostly Italian crowd still had the same vibes as any decent concert I’ve been to in the States. There’s something about music, isn’t there? The only difference was that at one point, the lead singer asked the crowd if they knew English, and the crowd shouted back, “Yes, we do!” …That was a moment of disparity.

Portishead

Important Blog Point Three:

I think I would be the worst cooking show host ever. Seriously. Think about it.

Important Blog Point Four:

Be proud of me! I just read an entire book in Italian! It’s The Baron in the Trees by Italo Calvino. Yeah right… April Fools! HAHA! I can’t help myself. I am about to start a book by Calvino, but in the meantime I am reading Musicophilia by Oliver Sacks (which is, more realistically, in English). He’s the neurologist guy who wrote The Man Who Mistook His Wife for a Hat and Awakenings, which they made into a movie. Although I haven’t gotten into a proper Italian book yet, I have graduated to Italian movies with Italian subtitles, and French movies with Italian subtitles. Supaircoo! (Fr. for supercool) My favorite so far is Conseguenze dell’amore, The Consequences of Love, about a guy with a joyless life, who suddenly finds himself wanting love and consequently gets sucked deeper into the mafia. Disclaimer: concentration of film is solely on artsiness, or aesthetics, if you prefer.

Thanks to everyone who sent me an almost-word! Keep them coming!

Arrivederci!

Jenny

Pre-Break Pensivity

Jenny — Thu, 20 Mar 2008 09:07:58 +0000

Why do I make up words? Because mine sound better. Or, they are at least more fun to say (ie. pensivity). I have respect for the English language, mind you, but it should be an organic exchange. Even if it is across weird particles of digital stuff that I don’t understand. (Please, don’t ruin the magic for me.) America, I’m calling you into action: I am looking for the weirdest, intelligible-yet-not-quite real words for a new project of mine. I would tell you what the project is, but then you would steal it. Shame on you.

I have been midterm-free since yesterday at two o’clock, and life doesn’t give you more downtime than I have at this particular moment. We’ll call it La Dolce Vita, the Sweet Life, full of relaxation and not a single responsibility for another few hours or so. It’s during these moments that I do the things I’ve been wanting to do for a while but haven’t, like take a closer look at the graffiti, read an American book (The Perks of Being a Wallflower), and maybe have a slower-paced blog in honor of the patient few among my readership.

Despite all of the art and architecture, two aspects of Florentine life which are tragically easy to gloss, most of us who are here everyday are more concerned with the market. The food, the boots, the leather bags bigger than my head. Turn the corner and there is a whole new row of stalls, with the same products in a variation on a theme. It is a massive, pulsating thing, best avoided until you know you can handle it with care, like a snake. Right then.

One of my classes has been focusing on Goethe and Stendhal, with the result of me now contemplating that I can make the transition from tourist to student, until the moment I “do” a city instead of experiencing it. Which is odd, because almost every American I know in my program is going to “do” at least two-four cities in one week for spring break. Honestly, I took a tourist trip to Europe already and I think that if I ran through it all again I wouldn’t get anything out of it that lasted. Perhaps if I had more time…but that’s another thought for an older Jenny, because the careerpath of a writer is anything but solid. In the meantime, I’m trying to move around to spend time in different parts of the city, and around the edges and surrounding countryside of Tuscany. Yeah, as in Under the Tuscan Sun, that’s where I am! Heh. Also, I think that Stendhal’s sydrome is a pychological effect that a lot of people experience when they travel abroad.

My last thought today is for Billie, who knew so much about the literature, and even more about our family. Rest in Peace.

EuroCars: Mostly Harmless??? I think not!

Jenny — Thu, 13 Mar 2008 10:36:04 +0000

How do!

I’m finally getting out of the midsemester cycle of illness that comes with going to college– it walloped me good this time– and I got out of my room to see this:

Yeah, I did something touristy, again. I visited one of the landmark churches in Florence, Santa Croce, which is a goldmine of famous Italians’ tombs. Take a look around!

Santa Croce Grounds

S anta Croce Outdoor Walkway

Spleen Café! Ha! that’s not a church, but it is worth mentioning

To Machiavelli

Hmmm Lots of tombs, all right?

Precursor to the Statue of Liberty ”The Liberty of Poetry” by Pio Fedi, 1877, dedicated to Giovan Niccolini

Hymnal/Missal

Even the Rafters Are Fancy

Fresco Uno by G

Fresco Due by G

Paintin the Saints Up in Gold

Santa Croce Square

Santa Croce Square Due

Professional Street Performers These guys were breath-takingly wow good. They played a tune I recognized from my Gypsy Violin book! That is, my now authenticgypsy book! (yay)

Dante Statue

Good news! The construction by my place has moved on up the street and I can nap again!!! Thanks to all of you who kept me in your thoughts during this difficult period in my life.

All right, so most of my friends know that if there is one person in the world they can count on for being terrified of something mundane, it is their pal Jenny. Confession: I can’t stand driving, which has now developed into not wanting to be a passenger in a car either. (It seems I should stick to planes.) That’s great, you say, but why are you telling me this?

Because I am quite used to the terrors of American traffic, but there was nothing I could ever watch on TV that would have made me believe the bizarre reality of traffic patterns in a European city. The experience is surreal. But with little EuroCars, what can they do that’s so amazing? They can do a one-point turn out of cramped parallel parking. Pure magic. PLUS the side-view mirrors are hinged, so that when you park on a curb you can FOLD IT IN! HAHAHHAHAHA…yeah, space is precious in Florence. In short, I constantly think that I am about to be in a devastating accident, and then the stick shift does something that defies the laws of physics, or the car is smaller on the outside than it is on the inside, eccetera, and nothing happens… frankly, I’m puzzled. Here, let me show you little of what I’m talking about:

Here is some nice American driving. Notice how the cars stay neatly between the lines, in one particular lane of traffic. Cars pass on the left, and slower traffic keeps right. Everyone feels relatively safe, even if there is a bit of parallel parking going on.

And this is what I’ve seen drivers do in Florence. Please note that the cars drive steadily on top of the lane divisions. They are more of a suggestion than a rule, non è vero? (Isn’t that true?) Passing is done on a bent crescent course around the intruding vehicle, neither of which are likely to do anything but accelerate during this spectacular, bloody battle of wills!

Right, well, I guess that gives you an idea. In general, I close my eyes and pretend I’m on a rollercoaster. Hairpin turns, stomach-lifting drops, pedestrians and bicyclists with the mindset of invincible teenagers… it won’t be easy to forget this part of living in Florence!

My experience at the Teatro Communale was excellent! I saw Elektra , practically a black box production, everyone in plain draped black dresses and the two villains in white. I understood about fifty percent of the Italian, which is not bad seeing as it was translated first from German and based on story in Greek mythology. Could not understand anything they sang in German, unfortunately.

Midterms are coming up next week, hope everyone in TN enjoyed the break and the snow (I wish I could have seen it!), and rest assured that I will do something else interesting enough to talk about in the near future!

Jenny

There’s a Jackhammer Outside My Window (It Shows No Signs of Leaving)

Jenny — Thu, 28 Feb 2008 10:32:17 +0000

Ciao ragazzi! Come stai??? (Chow ruh-got-see! Koh-may sti???)

Hi everyone! How are you doing? Me? Next week will be better, but that means there is a lot to talk about.

I’ve heard people complain about construction all of my life. But really guys, this is way worse than having to sit in your car for an extra ten minutes. About a week after I arrived, workers started tearing apart Via Faenza, a street that runs perpendicular to mine, approximately one American house down from my appartamento. I believe they are working on the sewer line, because there is an ungodly stench that reaches its fingers into my nose whenever I venture to class. Also because I have to try very hard not to step in suspiciously murky puddles and smears of poo. Sitting in your Ford sounds pretty good right now, doesn’t it? (By the way, Ford makes European cars, too! I had no idea…) The good news is that I think the poo is from people walking their dogs and the daily maintenance crew just can’t clean around the construction– every night at nine or so, fantastic trucks from heaven water and vacuum and sweep the cobblestones! Generally, Florence has got the trash thing under control.

I hate to continue, but it gets worse. My naps have been cancelled, indefinitely. If you have ever met me, you probably know how devastated my existence is without a nap regimen. Naps are why I have friends, etc. Let me get to my point: THE JACKHAMMER STARTS AT 8AM AND STOPS AT 5PM EVERY, EVERY DAY!!!

Headphones are too weak to cope with such a thing, don’t you think I thought of that? The only way I have managed to nap this entire time was to get a nasty cold! (Here you always say, “Yes, I’m a little bit sick.”) But who knows how long this solution will last– what will I do? The sign says it will last until April.

There’s the Jackhammer

Via Faenza Is Rubble

Right, so, classes are now in full swing at Scuola Lorenzo de’ Medici. The school is spread out across several blocks, meaning there is one tiny building on this street, another tiny building on that one; there’s no official campus. The students are mostly girls from the Northeast and from Marist, with a heavy Boston population. There is an occasional international student. I really can’t say the classes remind me of Rhodes. The stress seems to be on your overall experience as a student while in Florence, and not on the classes themselves. The dark horse class that has really captured my attention is opera. I’m surprised too! The opera buffa (comedy) has caught my attention, and next week we are going to see a production of Elektra (the Greek tragedy). I might be turning into more of a dork to you back home, but everyone here knows all the words to the top operas, it’s one of those things they just know.

Luckily for me, the school also offers clubs. I’ve joined the music club, where I’ll be playing my violin in some duets. We meet at a bar where the singers can get up on stage, it’s pretty relaxed. Also, I’m in the wine-tasting club, because that is one area that I know nothing about! It seems like the best time to get a little sophistication is now!

It’s Not a Little Statue, and It’s Not a Little Building Either

Flags of F lorence Note the fleur-de-lis, the symbol of Florence and New Orleans, LA!

My Three Flatmates Plus One Neighbor We think they used alphabetical order of our last names to put us together, but we get along great! From left to right: Justine, Jenna, Carolyn, Joanna, and myself. Carolyn really has to watch herself with all of those J-names, but she’s up to the challenge.

Mystery Print I see this print everywhere! Mostly because it’s hanging in my bedroom.. To my Artsy People: what is it? Who is it by? Help me out!

Mime with Gnome and Child

Euro Sneaks!!! The details are all a bit off from American sneakers. Weird and yet endearing. Also, willing to go down the streets my boots can’t handle.

Public Notice: No Peeing on the Street Can’t you see me stopping to take this picture?

Hotel Astoria Posh hotel right across from one of my school buildings.

A presto!

Jenny

Five Minute Walking Tour

Jenny — Mon, 11 Feb 2008 17:30:55 +0000

My Soul Boots These are considered relatively comfortable footwear. But watch out for the cobblestones!

Th e Neptune Fountain in P iazza della Signora I spy some tourists in a crane!!!

Close on Neptune Fountain

The Arno River

Il Pont e Vecch io, T h e Old Bridge If you want to buy a diamond in Florence, this is where you go to get it.

L ooking to the South from Ponte V ecchio

Pricey Real Estate

Limonata Is the New Coke! I think that’s enough walking for one day.

The Elephant in the Bathroom

Culture Shock? No, This Must Be the Honeymoon Phase!

Jenny — Thu, 07 Feb 2008 12:01:19 +0000

Now I have some stories! I’ve been in Florence (aka Firenze) for about a week, and it is one surprise after another. My apartment is practically on top of the Duomo. I walk a few blocks and look up, è bellissima! So far, the biggest surprise is that if you are American, you don’t have to say anything. Everyone already knows you are American. It’s like a Spidey Sense– as far as I can tell, it’s based on differing fashion, and on gestures and motion. More on this later, I intend to investigate further.

What did not surprise me: the food is like ambrosia! I’m not kidding, this is the best eating of my entire life! (That’s saying a lot, I grew up in southern Louisiana.) The bread is heavy, the cheese is magnificent, decent wine is dirt cheap, there’s pasta and panini everywhere, the chocolate is European only, and the word “fresh” is not a gimmick! I can’t believe it. If I’m not careful, I might die here a fat and happy old lady.

I’ve really enjoyed walking around the city every day, especially now that I don’t have to pull out a map every five minutes. I don’t really have much to say about my program yet –it just started– so I will tell you about my social struggles, or,

Alien Encounters:

This past weekend I had settled in enough to go out with my new school friends. At night, everyone goes to bars, starting at age 18 to…60 or so. It is the popular place to maybe have a buffet dinner, and meet your friends for a drink. So here we are, four American womenfolk minding our own business, and within a couple of hours two of us had been asked on dates by Italian men. They were so forward! Obviously, I was shocked. That kind of thing NEVER, bet-your-life-and-you-will-win, EVER happens in America. The irony is that my compatriots tell me that Italian women are generally disgusted by American men. So the cultural attraction does not apply to both genders. Sorry, guys.

Warning: Use of Shock Value in Following Paragraph

Later on that night we went to a club. It was exclusive, and we got in mostly by accident– there’s a lifetime membership card involved. Apparently, three weeks before I arrived in Florence, it was a swingers’ club. It was closed and reopened as a regular club. However, some vestiges of the old club were still inside: maternity mannequins dressed in black leather sheath dresses, a bed with leopard print cover, and the best part was that each room was a different color, which was a code for where you should go if you want to meet people, or whatever. We tried to explain that no one we know even talks about places like this, but I don’t think we explained it very well. No one seemed to understand why we thought it was odd, since it was now a “normal club.” Now that’s a cultural divide! But it was definitely an adventure.

Well, now you know a lot more about what it’s like here. I will have more pictures up soon! I have to work out some kinks with using a public computer.

A presto,

Jenny