randoms on an evening. or night, rather.

i love green fin- a white table wine that sells for about four dollars at trader joe's. very fruity, fragrant. the one thing i just can't figure out about it, though, is this "notes of orange blossom" thing. another wine i tried this weekend (at vosges, actually) had this in the inscription and i can't quite detect it. so, it's like, orange but also a flower? hmm. at this point i'm only able to identify orange, and flowery. separately. hmm. i need to get me some orange flower water i think.

also, olives (black, nicoise specifically) are a dream with dark chocolate. new favorite snack.

and, finally, oh do i love the kayoko, the beautiful truffle from vosges' green collection that just debuted. beautiful, buttery white chocolate encasing a vibrant green tea ganache. you bite into it, and it's like you've transformed, you're wearing a flowing dress and are standing in the dirt in bare feet. and you're eating candy grass, and it's not weird. fantastical.

food that inspires

i've decided to make it a point to document, in some fashion, my recent fantastic experiences with food and drink. i need to share but as it stands now the only person who really gets to enjoy all of it is my beloved ryan! so, here you (all?) are.

part of this is sudden feeling is due to my new job at vosges haut-chocolate (www.vosgeschocolate.com) as a seller and lover of chocolate. my mind has been blown and widened in the last few weeks, and continues to be as each day i try something new (or many somethings new!) and talk about it with my manager. it is so inspiring to have my tastes and my ideas challenged but supprted at the same time. apparently, i've shown so much enjoyment and interest in the flavors and textures that they've already decided to "promote" me (term used loosely) to ohare's first ever "food concierge." in exchange for the title i'd be involved in all of the extra foodie endeavors of the company, plan truffle/chocolate pairings with which to educate the staff, and possibly converse with katrina on conference calls about new products. has my day-job dream come true?!? i think so. speaking of katrina (as in markoff, the creator and ceo of vosges) , i've taken it upon myself to experience all of the recipes she comes up with and posts on her blog (www.peaceloveandchocolate.com). hence the need to express! so, here are my newest delights in the food world:

for the love of paninis:

three to be exact. the first i tried was made on a soft wheat bread (although the original recipe calls for bread like those below) with sliced organic bananas, a few squares of vosges organic peanut butter bon bon bar (deep milk chocolate, pink himalayan sea salt, maldon sea salt, and peanut butter- IDIE) and salted butter. i made this with my dinner with my first official chicago friend, lauren. (who may, for the record, love wine and cheese more than i. debatable, i know, but....)

i recognized after this first panini that i was going to be eating a lot of things between bread in the near future... so i proceeded to make my first ever classic tuscan loaf, out of the joy of cooking anniversary cookbook (thanks micah my dear!). this turned out fantastically, and i was armed for the next two, more savory, italian-style sandwiches.

enter bacon and chocolate, one of the best things ever in the history of all things that are the best things ever. this panini, made on newly baked bread, consisted of vosges deep milk chocolate and bacon bar, a slice of applewood smoked bacon, and my (perhaps brilliant) addition of red onions caramelized in a homemade vanilla sugar. (organic cane.) again, i'm dead, dead, dead and LOVING IT IN BACON+CHOCOLATE HEAVEN.

(speaking of which... pudding made of maple syrup, cream, vosges organic single origin milk chocolate scooped with a bacon spear... yeah. i made that last weekend.)

and the third, perhaps most bizarre but also fantastic panini idea from katrina: prosciutto (i found mine at the lovely local shop pastoral- www.pastoralartisan.com), buffalo mozzarella, nicoise olives, basil, and vosges organic single origin dark chocolate doused in extra-virgin olive oil. i've also made it with the mind-boggling organic enchanted mushroom bar from vosges (reishi mushroom powder + walnuts + dark chocolate) and have had it in some form for dinner the last three nights. a new love has surfaced, indeed. i enjoyed this one of the nights (or day, actually, with ryan!) with one of my new favorite spring wines, the vin-koru white table wine found at trader joe's for five bucks.

speaking of wine, i was introduced to colombelle (a fantastic french specimen) at tracy lett's party a few weeks ago. some lovely soul brought it, where i proceeded to consume two glasses of the stuff with my hip attached to the wine counter. no big deal. i believe it goes for nine bucks at whole foods, seven or eight at binny's if you're lucky enough to have one near you. very fruity and floral, as if you're drinking strawberry shortcake and smelling the spring outside. actually, so inspiring that ryan and i made his (grandmother's?) recipe for strawberry shortcake, which i don't know if i'd ever had before. and... wow. mmm, the warm shortcakes surrounded by a good vanilla bean ice cream matched with sugared strawberries... yes please. i wonder how it'd be if one soaked them in an aged balsamic vinegar? heavenly, perhaps. although i wonder if ryan would let me tamper so with a classic favorite of his.

and then there are these bacon-cheddar-chive biscuits that disappeared in record time (except for the few i've hidden in the freezer:) i had an abundance of chives growing on my windowsill and thought, what else? i have been on this bacon kick, after all. the recipe came from april's? bon appetit magazine. so pillowy, flavorful, warming... oooo.

that's all i can think of for the moment. oh, and i've just recently tasted taleggio cheese for the first time. soft, stinky, and packing a punch of flavor. vosges actually has a truffle-penned the rooster-that mixes the pungent stuff with walnuts, vanilla bean, and dark chocolate. woa. that was good. all of this will, i'm guessing, become more regular, as ryan and i have just signed up for our first csa. an abbreviation for "community shared agriculture," this basically means that we own a share of harvest moon farms in wisconsin, who once a week drive into chicago to drop off boxes of organic produce, cheese, and eggs (in our case) but can also include flowers and grass-fed, free-range chicken and beef (www.harvestmoonorganics.com). i was so proud and giddy to have finally signed up, i almost peed.

so, love to any and all out there! live and eat with a happiness and inquisition!

the books lyrics

lyrics to "a little longing goes a long way" by the books. it's so very tao te ching. love.

Yes and no are just distinguished by
distinction, so we choose the in-between.
Give up your books and put an end
to your worries. Enjoy central park in spring.
Our minds are empty, like we're too young
to know to smile.
We know to fear what others fear
is nonsense, right?

The books suggest we set our hearts
on doing nothing,
and then nothing's left undone.
Everybody's busy waiting for the go-ahead,
but by then their heads are gone.
Our minds are empty, grave as well as
strange. (Take this.)
We know to seek success is utter nonsense.
The best is to be blank.

standing still and learning to be astonished.

i did it! i stood on my head! three times!

i was so excited and surprised at my ability to do something i never thought i'd have to the strength to do that i wanted to stand up and cry out to everyone in class. and just like that, as i'm silently bathing in my excitement, sharon reminds us all to let go of whatever has just happened, good or bad. "detach it from your ego." she continues, "when we attached things to the ego, we become disappointed." and i thought, yes, this is true in all things. in yoga, in life, and most certainly in art, to which i give my life's work. and as we came back into the world and into ourselves after savasana, she read this poem, "messenger."

My work is loving the world.
Here the sunflowers, there the hummingbird —
equal seekers of sweetness.
Here the quickening yeast; there the blue plums.
Here the clam deep in the speckled sand.

Are my boots old? Is my coat torn?
Am I no longer young, and still not half-perfect? Let me
keep my mind on what matters,
which is my work,

which is mostly standing still and learning to be
astonished.
The phoebe, the delphinium.
The sheep in the pasture, and the pasture.
Which is mostly rejoicing, since all ingredients are here,

which is gratitude, to be given a mind and a heart
and these body-clothes,
a mouth with which to give shouts of joy
to the moth and the wren, to the sleepy dug-up clam,
telling them all, over and over, how it is
that we live forever.

Mary Oliver

and i thought, yes. yes, this the truth.

the beloved hafiz poem

Light
Will someday split you open
Even if your life is now a cage,

For a divine seed, the crown of destiny,
Is hidden and sown on an ancient fertile plain
You hold the title to.

love will surely bust you wide open
Into an unfettered, blooming new galaxy

Even if your mind is now
A spoiled mule.

A life giving radiance will come,
The Friend's gratuity will come -

O look again within yourself,
For I know you were once the elegant host
To all the marvels in creation.

From a sacred crevice in your body
A bow rises each night
And shoots your soul into God.

Behold the Beautiful Drunk Singing One
From the lunar vantage point of love.

He is conducting the affairs
Of the whole universe

While throwing wild parties
In a tree house - on a limb
In your heart.

Hafiz

over the hilltop, down in the valley.

i remember going downstairs, to the studio. my mother sat in a chair next to the wall of bookcases. she was looking at photographs of us when we were younger, and crying. i think this was sometime right before the divorce, and perhaps there was not only reminiscing but decision-making happening, as my father ended up with a number of pictures of us. i find it both circular and ironic that i sit now doing the same thing, with the same pictures. because the amount of childhood photos in which i am with my father is incredibly disproportionate to those i have with my mother. the same goes for today. he cannot walk a block without taking a picture of me next to a tree. literally. we once stopped at the top of val imm hill (at a stop sign, nonetheless. aren't you glad you weren't behind us that day?) to take a picture of me in front of some tree. he has this thing about pictures. as if he believes that if he documents the time spent with his children, it proves that his involvement in our lives outweighs the terrible deceit to which he's subjected us. he gave me a book of pictures of the two of us, some also with my brothers, for my high school graduation. it has a purple cover and an inscription: "good times." my mother once wondered aloud why he would give away those pictures, even to me. i realize now that maybe she wished they were not ones that she gave away to him years ago.

we've been spring cleaning, albeit preemtively. it turns out even chicago makes me antsy for spring. so i've come across these photos. so many photos, of my father and i.

he gave me a camera for christmas two years ago. i've only ever used it in italy, perhaps just to show him where i'd been and what i'd seen. my mother told me once it was the only place he'd ever felt comfortable. after being there, i can understand that, although he is still (and always will be) a mystery to me.

i've never been much for pictures.

"light will someday split you open, even if your life is now a cage."

and indeed it has.

i find it infinitely fascinating that my long-awaited initiative to start blogging has come at a time when i am making catastrophic discoveries in my life. especially within the last twenty four hours, i find myself at a place of great fortune, of enlightenment.

for those of you who may not know me, i have just recently (july to be precise) graduated from college with a mother degree, or at least it felt like one while i was in the process of acquiring it: a bfa in musical theatre. i completed it in four years, adding in some vocal jazz study and extra dance classes and capped it off with a study abroad in rome. in that time, i met many incredible people, a few of whom have moved me as if they were a mountain splitting the sky. i will never be the same after having attended msu over those four years. i was challenged in ways i never could have expected, although i did have some knowledge of what i was getting myself into and, i believe, fared very well considering the stress i could have undergone had i not had a wonderful support group and a beautiful hill to walk up everyday. and coffee. lots of coffee. and within a months of graduating, i have been involved in six pieces of theatre and will be starting my seventh soon. very lucky indeed, especially considering the market (chicago) in which i am working. as would be expected, my life has changed drastically in these last few months, and i do keep in touch with a few of my closest friends from those years. and although i miss them, i do not, in any way, miss school or the environment and the ways in which i've worked over the past four years. it seems that i have learned as much about myself lately as i ever did through dozens of classes and several years.

as of this moment, i love my life. infinitely and fully. i do not have a full time job (although this vosges position is looking as promising as ever and i am hoping to start within two weeks) and have not had one since i quit working at adesso. this decision to cut myself off from decent serving money is one of the best decisions i've ever made and has taught me an incredible lesson. i have decided that i will no longer work in an environment which is not sustainable and without passion and integrity. even if it guarantees a paycheck (lesson #1.) in a big city in a terrible economy, i am surrounded by unemployment, yes, but am even more suffocated by the sea of people who hate their jobs, who complain about everything there is to feel anything about, who rush from here to there in order to prove themselves to someone, somewhere in an endless cog of detached individuals. they forget that they have a choice. and always have.

so, my days consist of getting up in the morning (which i have grown to love) and making myself espresso before going to yoga, six days a week. i hardly ever made time for yoga in college, and all the while felt stressed, strained, and scattered despite my exercise in (very challenging and fulfilling) dance classes. and although i do not (due to finances) practice one ounce of what might be called "dance," i feel as connected to my body as ever. it's as if my whole mentality of chaos during school transferred into those dance classes; i desperately tried to build skills that i realize now take years and years to develop. i look back and see myself running from coffee to class to rehearsal to performance to the gym to food, and finally running right into my bed, where i crashed every night for what seemed like ages. to be sure, i am infinitely grateful for the skills and tools i was given to develop into the perfomer that i am now, the person that i am now, but i have learned (lesson #2) that i never again, ever, in all my years, will schedule my day down to the hour and cloud my life with responsibilities that when added up shall surely cause me to go crazy. i repeat, ever. the amount of pressure i put on myself (and others!), how i desperately felt the need to prove myself day in and day out, is something i would never wish on anyone. and what for? what is the point of teaching the world to run like a machine? it is not impressive because it virtually inhumane to achieve all of the things we pressure ourselves with, worry ourselves with. it is why we're all so angry, so upset, so numb. the practice of yoga, of listening to my breath, my body, my intuition, has begun to clear away everthing and allow me to focus on what's really important. and sharon. oh, sharon, i love you. one of the most wonderful teachers i've ever had. i think the whole world shoud be required to take a class from sharon and then make themselves lunch. after which they should be allowed to sit with their closest family and friends and enjoy this lunch as they bask in each other's company. and really listen. to each other, to the world outside. this is my hope for everyone, that they will allow themselves to slow down.

all of this talk of slowness has been prompted not only by my life after college but by the book slow food nation by carlo petrini, which i am reading currently. this usually happens in the afternoon following lunch and the reading of the paper. (the paper!!! things happen in the world that do not only concern myself and what goes on in the green room! oh joy! i know now where afganistan is. before the redeye, i did not. i have a college degree and never learned where afghanistan was because i was too focused on my performance projects.) carlo, being the good italian man that he is, is very adamant about his belief that everything, not only the production of food, needs to take a step back and evaluate. rid itself of unsustainable and unnecessary practices, and continue forward with awareness and joy. and the more i read, the more it all makes sense. yes, i realize, i do not currently have any "responsibilities" until 5 pm, when i walk to profiles' and perfom in the most challenging and invigorating piece of theatre i've ever touched, but, why, is that so bad? i feel so much more aware and open, as if i'm able now to do good, to help the world through lightness and consideration. doug, ryan's boss (i've spent many an hour at the pie hole cavorting with martinis in hand) always says, "what are you doing right now to spread good?" and if we're all so concerned about our deadlines and responsibilites, what can we really do? i'm coming to a place where the world is my priority, and this, oddly enough, seems like a possibity as everything else i regarded as law falls away.

and then they'res this show. killer joe. playing dottie is causing me to face so many of my fears and is the most challenging role i've ever had. not only am i naked in front of dozens of people every night, but i have been challenged by the director (rick snyder of steppenwolf, oh how infinitely lovely he is) to never smile. and, with the exception of the one moment where the script dictates so, i have not. a sucess. furthermore, he asked me to show, for the most part, no emotion throughout. needless to say, this character is absolutely nothing like me. it's refreshing. and i am realizing in working with this wonderful, small group of people that i have, for as long as i've been acting, desperately been trying to relate every character to myself, to tap into something in me that gets results on the stage. and this is not always possible. AH! HOW LIBERATING! it is not my responsibility to understand and consequently come up with emotions to displace onto a character! i love spending hours at the theatre, discussing humans and their infinite emotional possibilities with people whom i greatly respect and admire. with actors from whom i can learn so much. and what's crazy is that they respect me as highly as i do them! i've not had to prove myself to them, to show them that i've gotten an A in a hustoles class. because none of that really matters now. and, granted, that comes along with graduating from a school that was the world for years. of course then that was my focus because it was my environment. it was what i knew and what those around me knew. but now, NOW, i can let it all go. walk out on a stage and commit to something, connect with people without expectation. (lesson #3.) and with them, tell a story that has patrons curling up in their seats, covering their eyes, and blurting "what the fuck." (literally.) i am lucky. a lucky lucky person. and i realize now that it is my job to take the good i can do, the stories i can tell, and make them available to others. create positivity and nourishment in the world. but it all starts from inside. it's always been there, it's just taken time to find it. and i encourage and challenge the whole world, all of the people, everywhere, to take a step back and do the same. find the eye of calm in the center of the proverbial storm that so often is life. that's the thing, life is gonna be insane. insane and overwhelming and upsetting and exciting and sad and everything else. but we have the ability, and the power, somewhere in there, to step back and make a decision that will create change. it's just allowing ourselves to do so. challenging the limitations and the expectations. asking why. or more importantly, why not.

i'm going now to spend time with my lovely sir ryan. thanks to whoever is reading this. and really, think about it. i'm serious.

listening to french music, satisfied with lamb and potatoes with garlic.

so i've finally done it, following the many who've come before me. you know- micah, nikki, and julie powell. this is the official beginning of my blog. now of course, there cannot be (as i have learned) a healthy launch into the future without a quick look back, to solidify those reasons for creating change. so the following entries (in some random order, i'm sure) will be those i posted as facebook "notes" while in italy this past summer, where i began to cultivate my love of food writing. this of course developed into writing about the culture and life in general, so no worries if you are not one to read endless comparisons of gelato textures and flavours. yes, i am aware i wrote flavours. sometimes i like to do things more european-like. it's fun, and a bit silly and pretentious. whee. welcome and thanks for reading.

with a renewed sense of love

My final morning in Rome was one of delightful proportions. I had a packed itinerary that included visiting Campo di Fiori, running up to school to retrieve a pair of lost earrings, and enjoying one last coffee with Adolfo before my train ride to the airport. I left my newly cleaned apartment at seven thirty for the first of my last adventures.

Struck with a bout of sentimentality, I reminisced about my time in Rome-all the people met, experiences had, gelato eaten, and lessons learned. As I crossed the bridge and caught a glimpse of St. Peter’s, accompanied by cypress trees against the gorgeous blue sky, it occured to me that these beautiful monuments (the Pantheon, the Forum, Fontana di Trevi...) would no longer be in my backyard. I’d gotten used to living in a city that was thousands of years old and still had its history visibly intact, right down to the uneven cobblestone streets. I’d gotten used to my coffee coming in a tiny cup and saucer. I’d even gotten used to speaking Italian first rather than English anywhere I went. I’d made friends, established my favorite places to eat and shop, and learned to figure out how to use whatever bathroom contraption happened to be available. And although elated to return to those I love in the States, I was accustomed to each day presenting a new challenge. Having to fight (in a sense) to get by, having to figure things out on my own, having to accept things that I could not change or did not understand. I could only hope that I would retain these incredibly important attitudes on a life of continuous surprises.

I made it to Campo around eight, just when the market was starting up. I stopped to see my jewelry man, whom I’d been visiting a lot this week. We’d have such a good time-he’d construct earrings, bracelets, and rings for me (and friends) while I’d sing him anything performed or recorded by Frank Sinatra. And each day, the same topic would come up-the importance of retaining “the feeling of the baby” and having an appreciation and an awareness for all. We exchanged addresses and telephone numbers (what has become a ritual with the old men here-they all want postcards from America) and I sang him a verse of “Summertime.” We then took pictures together before he showered me with hugs and kisses, calling me his “piccola stella.” He smiled and waved to me until I was out of sight.

Next stop was school, where I’d left my beautiful green earrings from Fairfield’s Saturday farmer’s market, which I was not about to leave in Rome. Upon arriving, I realized that although the school had opened at 8:30, the student life office (and the lost and found) would not be open until much later. Luckily, a janitor saw me lingering in the garden, and asked if he could help. I tried to explain to him that I’d lost my earrings, and he opened my Italian classroom (no luck) and then the office for me. Sitting on the desk oh so shinily were my earrings, and I thanked him profusely. Again, the willingness of the Italians to help people despite the language barrier... such a beauty. I ran down the hill, taking one last glance at the gorgeous Villa Sciarra before heading to Bar Marado.

Adolfo was exceptionally loving and adorable, as he knew this day was my last and I was on my way to the train station. We’d become even better friends, as he had taken my roommate Saskya and I out to dinner at his friend’s restaurant on Wednesday night. It specialized in fresh fish and seafood, hence it’s name: La Terrazza sul Mare. It was a totally authentic experience-we never saw a menu and only spoke in Italian. This, of course, meant that I used a significant amount of gestures and head nods. He thought it was funny how attentive and intense I was, as it took him awhile to realize that I was comprehending most of what he was saying by reading his expressions. (One of the really difficult things about the Italian language is that it’s very fast and hard to tell where one word ends and another begins. Much confusion.) Everything was ordered and prepared especially for us, and it was really fun not to know what was coming next. We started the meal with a Sicilian white wine, fanTASTIC, pillowy bread sliced ultra-thin, and a cold seafood antipasto (a popular dish here). It contained fresh calamari, octopus, shrimp, and finely julienned carrots and cumber in a very light, lemony dressing. Then came the mussels, as a sort of second antipasto-juicy and tender. The first course was spaghetti (al dente as per use) with clams in a sauce that was basically olive oil and parsley-incredible to say the least. For the second course, we had some sort of delicate white fish covered in finely-sliced potatoes, all roasted with a touch of oil and salt. I was once again amazed at the utter perfection of a dish that was so simple-I have become over this past month a huge supporter of this kind of cooking. For dessert, we had tiramisu and liquors-a bitter one for me. (One of my first priorities when I get back to the states is to find a giant bottle of Ramazzotti-the whole digestivo concept is sheer brilliance.) The evening was lovely-full of good food and fascinating (although not completely decipherable) conversation.

With this joyous experience behind me, I found myself even more appreciative of Adolfo’s care and generosity. It was really difficult to say goodbye to him, and we too exchanged information and took pictures together. I was glad that my last speaking experience was with him, as he had been instrumental in my developing ability to communicate with others. Leaving the bar without knowing the next time I would see him solidified in me an amazement at the close relationships I’d been able to develop. I thought back to how much I’d really been able to communicate with those around me, despite not knowing the language very well. It had been amazing to see how instrumental facial expressions, gestures, and tone of voice are in conversations. Furthermore, I thought back on the live music and theatre I’d seen here, realizing how incredible, yet overlooked, our basic human connection is. We all come from the same place; we all have the same feelings and thoughts and needs and wants. We do feel them in varying amounts and express them in different ways where grammar and vocabulary are concerned, but it’s all a just a different version of the same thing. If this trip has taught me anything, it’s that. With this in mind, I said goodbye to Melissa and Monica at the train station, where they bought tickets to Pescara to visit Monica’s grandmother. And although more time in Italy would be incredible, I am so, so happy to come home and share a renewed sense of love with all of you.

After all, I’ll be back.

how i met my neighbors

Final exams: a few years of Hamilton and Hustoles classes really paid off with my postwar italian cinema final... terms upon terms upon terms had to be memorized, and I admit I was a bit overwhelmed about taking that final (almost all essay...) and my italian exam in the same day. However, all turned out to be pretty swell, and five hours, two written exams, and a conversation in italian with my professor later, I was done with school forEVER! I took a last walk through the villa sciarra — a beautiful giardino, or "garden" (the name for all parks here is "garden" unless referring to an amusement park). After a final farewell to this wonderful place for studying, walking, and people-watching, I rushed home to begin packing for another epic dinner at le fate.

The first thing I did (no, the second-first was to pour myself a celebratory glass of Prosecco) was step out onto my balcony to retrieve my clothes (no dryers here... the simplicity is lovely). However, to my dismay, my new favorite hand-made skirt from the Sunday market in Pisa was missing. As the wind was very strong that day and I'd forgotten to clothes-pin my skirt down, I deducted that tragedy had struck. I ran down the seven flights of stairs to search the street for my oh so lonely piece of beauty. It was nowhere to be found on the street itself, but due to the angle of the sunlight and what could only be good karma, I saw its orange flowers twinkling above me on a neighbor's balcony. I counted the floors up, but as the balconies are staggered, the apartment entrance itself could have been on the third, fourth, or perhaps even the fifth floor. I ran back up the stairs, starting my quest on the fourth floor. Here began the first of my tours through my neighbor's homes. Each person (save for one elderly and gruff sir) was obliged to bring me inside their apartment and through to their balconies, offering suggestions as to which of my neighbors had my skirt. One girl about my age answered the door in tears and apologized profusely for crying as she showed me around. The grace she exuded, although she was clearly upset, was astounding in the best sense of the world. I wished that I knew how to ask her if she wanted a hug. The few moments we shared in her apartment really solidified my appreciation for the people i've come to love so much here. Seeing another person in clear distress, one whom spoke a completely different language than me, made me realize how connected we all truly are, as everyone experiences the same feelings. I suppose that we just communicate them differently... a moment of food for inspired thought.

After checking all of these apartments with no luck, I trudged back upstairs to further investigate the dilemma. As I was peering over my balcony and onto my neighbor's, where my skirt hung nonchalantly, I happened to see him as he stepped outside. "Scusi, scusi!" I shouted. However, just as the sound of my voice hit the air, the tram outside my apartment zipped by, resulting in a deafening sound much louder than I. My neighbor sauntered back into his apartment, unaware of my desperate need to get his attention. I decided on a plan of action: throw water bottle caps onto his balcony, in hopes to make enough noise without disturbing the whole neighborhood (I am so lucky it was past siesta...). After missing my target about three times, I finally got one to land. No response. Melissa and I then searched our room for other things to throw, and she happened to have an empty cigarette pack. I tossed it down-again, no response. I myself had a cigar tin, which I snapped in half (to increase my chances of success) and taped to it a note in my best italian outlining my dilemma. This one was stopped by the window ledge between my apartment and his-blast! I re-wrote the note and threw the second half of the tin down. Although it made quite a noise, it was clearly not enough to get my neighbor's attention. As I stood and stared down at my skirt (so close and yet so far)! I realized that the entrance to his apartment was on the other side of the building-to which I did not have key. In a final attempt at victory, I ran down the stairs once again and buzzed a few random apartments until someone let me in (quite trusting, I must say...). I started with the third floor, and had no success until the third apartment. The old man who answered the door pointed upstairs-ah! Fourth floor! As I debated which apartment to ring first, I heard a child laughing behind one of the doors. As I remembered seeing a tricycle on the famed balcony below me, I figured this apartment would be my best bet. And to my much-awaited relief, the man who answered the door was indeed the one i'd seen on the balcony an hour earlier. I explained to him what I had explained to a dozen other neighbors, and he as well brought me into his apartment and out onto the balcony, where I finally got ahold of my skirt. It was more beautiful than it ever had been before! Before I left, I awkwardly apologized for the things that I'd thrown on his porch, and he was (of course) lovely about the whole thing.

I ran to my building and up the stairs once again to drop off my skirt before dashing downstairs to meet my friends for dinner. As I told them the story and we walked to Le Fate (best chocolate souffle EVER), I felt an elated happiness due to my bizarre hour-long excursion, as well as a sense of accomplishment despite the language barrier. However, I felt a bit sad that I would not be able to get to know the neighbors I'd so abruptly introduced myself to. Their willingness to help me and my consequent glimpse into their lives made me even more eager to return to Italy. I smiled, thinking how grateful I was to be experiencing this life, with these people.

I am so, so happy to have been here.

life and love at le fate

ok, so i realize i'm being inconsistent, but i am now beginning to write in standard case because... my articles are being published on aur's website and it's a pain to reformat them all! yay! here is an account of my last, lovely adventure...

Sunday afternoon, my three housemates and I had the pleasure of spending a few hours in the kitchen with Andrea Consoli, the sous chef at Le Fate restaurant (www.lefaterestaurant.it).

It was the perfect day to be in, as outside the pouring rain was finally giving Rome its much-needed relief from the stagnant humidity that had plagued it the entirety of of the week.

Although I had suspected this from the brief chats I’d with Andrea previously, the first fifteen minutes alone solidified what an open, friendly, and honest person he is. I appreciated his blatant opinions throughout our conversations almost as much as his obvious passion for food and teaching that was revealed throughout the day.

The menu, which was a standard four courses, included ratatouille, risotto with radicchio and speck, saltimbocca, and biscuits called brutti ma buona (ugly but good.) I was completely thrilled with his choices and felt an elated sense of excitement as I put on my apron. We began with cleaning and chopping the vegetables for the ratatouille, a peasant dish that was important long before the animated movie that made it newly famous in the states (although I DO so love the movie... the rat, how adorable...) Andrea explained the reason why the vegetables chosen for ratatouille have remained the same for ages- firstly, because they include all the colors of the rainbow; and secondly, because they all, when cut into similarly-sized pieces, have about the same cooking time. He explained how ratatouille’s ingredients should not be experimented with, as many other vegetables (for instance, a tomato), would virtually disintegrate when baked in the oven for the amount of time necessary for a carrot to simply cook through. Another interesting fact about ratatouille we learned is that it should always be done in the oven. I had heard of it being done on the stove, and Andrea clarified for me that that process was used when making caponata, a sweet and sour Italian antipasto that is not quite as revered by the masses. After selecting our eggplant, onion, carrots, zucchini, potatoes, and peppers (red and yellow), we cut off their ends, washed them, and chopped them into cubes. All the while, Andrea snapped pictures of our hands-on learning experience. Next, we dumped our beauties into a large pan, adding extra virgin olive oil and the chef’s version of salt, which to us was basically chicken bouillon in paste form. No herbs-not even pepper! This was my first insight to the truly simple way that Andrea works-trusting the ingredients he has and doing only what is necessary to awaken their fantastic flavors.

While the ratatouille baked in the oven, we started on the other courses. Andrea educated us on the difference of speck and prosciutto-speck being the shoulder of the pig (which is usually smoked); while prosciutto, slightly more recognizable, comes from the leg. He insisted on us tasting slices of speck before assembling the saltimbocca (again, honoring one’s ingredients...) As we layered slices of beef, edamer cheese (a taste similar to that of swiss, without the holes), and speck to be topped with sage and held together with a toothpick, Andrea explained to us why we were using beef and not veal. Although Americans have a clear idea of veal as being an Italian ingredient (veal saltimbocca, veal marsala, veal with lemon sauce), it was never used in traditional Roman (as well as most Italian) cooking due to its price. This was very interesting to note, as it reminded me how often we put Italian (as well as French) cuisine on a fancy pedestal, when actually the people that erected it were very poor and could only work with what was easily available to them. Oh, how we stress ourselves out with the prospect of cooking a good meal from scratch...

We set aside our tiny, toothpick-speared bundles of joy and started to work on the risotto and biscuits. To begin the simple process of the risotto, we chopped the onions (during which I received a much-needed lesson on the ease of using a knife) and radicchio. The key, Andrea told us, is to cut on a slight outward angle and hold the ingredient with the thumb in back, which eliminates any chance of cutting off precious fingers. After putting to use our new knowledge, we poured extra virgin olive oil (one tablespoon per person as the standard guide) into the bottom of a frying pan and added the onions. In order cook them thoroughly while preventing them from becoming brown, we added a ladle or two of our home-made vegetable stock. The stock included simply of an onion with skins to achieve yellow color, a carrot or two, and a celery stick with its nutritious leaves attached, all boiled in water for fifteen minutes. After adding the stock, we covered the pan with another one (impromptu lid- who says fancy tools of any kind are necessary for great cooking!) and let them steam to perfection. When the onions were finished, we pureed them as to avoid any overwhelming textures and/or tastes when added with the rest of the creamy perfection of rice and vegetables. We returned the puree back to the pan and added the radicchio and speck, simmering together the beautiful flavors. After cooking the arborio in water and more stock (about fourteen minutes), we joined everything together in the pan with some finely grated pecorino.

Making the brutti ma buona biscuits, which have been Andrea’s favorite since childhood, was a very interesting experience. The cookies, which are comprised of only egg whites, powdered sugar, and hazelnuts, can be very testy depending on the weather, although delicious no matter what their consistency in the end. We whipped the egg whites in the stand-alone mixer (about the fanciest tool in the entire kitchen) as Andrea explained the delicate nature of the whites, and therefore the cookies as a whole. Once whipped to perfection (lovely peaks), we added, bit by bit, the powdered sugar. Here, we received another reason for the light-as-air consistency of the biscuits, as granulated sugar would be much to heavy to use considering the base of the egg whites. Once the sugar was completely incorporated, we added the hazelnuts, which immediately flattened the mixture. Not to worry, explained Andrea, for the beauty of using well-tempered whites is that once they are whipped properly, even after they are flattened, their consistency will lighten up again in the oven. The next step to completing the dessert was to cook this mixture on the stove in a non-stick pan. Inevitably, the bottom started to burn, which Andrea explained was a by-product of cooking egg whites, no matter how low the temperature on the stove. After we left the sweet, nutty substance to cool for a bit, we placed small spoonfuls of the batter on cookie sheets to bake in the oven for “sixteen or eighteen minutes.” In our case, this was fifteen due to the humidity. Through the window of the oven, we were able to see why these cookies translate to “ugly but good-” the composition of the dessert caused it to take on various rock-looking shapes, each one slightly different from the next and not necessarily worthy of front-page photography.

At this point, Andrea set our table for us (how lovely to have a beautiful, gourmet restaurant all to ourselves!) and we sat down to enjoy each other’s company while he put the finishing touches on the meal. We asked him to recommend for us a wine to drink, and he suggested Civitella Rosso, which is composed of 80% Merlot and 20% Montepulciano grapes and aged in oak barrels. The wine is made at the organic, family-owned, boutique winery of Sergio Mottura in Civitella D’Agliano, which is in Lazio (also the home of Roma). Andrea made a point to tell us that his wines were the best in the entire region, and of the choice few that he actually drank (how about a plug-www.motturasergio.it). It was possibly the best red I’ve ever had-the first thing I was reminded of was chocolate, due to the way the liquid filled my mouth and subsequently lingered for just long enough. It was warm, hearty, and fulfilling-the perfect compliment to the incredible meal we were about to eat.

As we leisurely enjoyed one of the most fantastic gastronomic experiences of our lives, my roommates and I couldn’t help but feel the urge to congratulate the chef on his work-even though he had done nothing but give us the tools to create the incredible things of beauty before us. We discussed the important lessons we’d learned: to have faith in the things already given to us; to embrace good food as a necessity rather than viewing it as an elitist priviledge, thereby widening our options for happiness; and to open our eyes to the possiblities around us, realizing that we too are capable of aiding in the revolution of food. And although it had occurred to us that day, as I write now, it seems imminently clear how these lessons apply not only to food but to life in general.

Thank you to Andrea, Melissa, Monica, and Saskya for such a lovely day. Shall we go on to spread the beauty of good food and grand company? Yes, yes we shall.

good things happen when one wanders... things like stumbling upon the villa borghese and a new italian musical...

saturday, i was bound and determined to have one last full day of enjoyment in my lovely city, as friday was dampened with my pickpocketing experience in which i lost $200. not fun... i had just gone to the atm and all of my money happened to be together, along with my school, international, and health care identification cards. the interesting thing is that although i had always wondered what i would do if i noticed an attempted pick-pocketing- how i would react and such- it never occurred to me that i could be a victim and not even realize it until fifteen minutes later. sly. and whoever it was got me while i was shopping for vegetables and cooking utensils. f. i figured i'd go talk with adolfo about filing a police report, and as it turns out, he is a retired police officer (he showed me his badge, it's so shiny and decorous!) and knew just where to go. so, on the plus side, i got a free motorcycle ride through rome out of the deal.

after pouting and blaming myself for not preventing said situation for much of the day, i left saturday with a new sense of "se la vie." or, as my roommate melissa says, "you win some, you lose more." i visited a chocolate shop on via argentina, one i had been eyeing for some time. i bought a few things here, including a set of chocolates filled with olive oil and figs that have to sit for six months before eating. let's just say they will have to be hidden away in a dark place where i'm able to forget about them. then, on to the cremeria for pistachio gelato (not my favorite... adding sugar and cream to that particular nut did not work for me. but a pretty colour.) a last walk by the massive beauty of the pantheon, and then on to via del corso, the main shopping street that runs up to piazza del popolo, which i had in mind to be my destination.

the piazza was huge- the largest i'd seen yet- and even though there were hundreds of people around, it still felt incredibly vast. perhaps because it's not surrounded by shops and cafes. nevertheless, it gave me a completely different feeling than i was expecting, and i felt a bit overwhelmed and lost. i saw a crowd of people climbing what looked like a huge staircase up to a garden of some sort, so i followed my eyes toward the green. once atop the stairs, i found an amazing view of the city, and spent some time oogling over the immaculate size and history this lovely place. i suddenly felt very lucky to be here. the park i'd found myself in seemed to go on for miles, and it wasn't until i saw signs for museums, piazzas, and the via veneto (!) that i realized i was in the villa borghese. for those of you who've seen fairfield, imagine chataqua park + museums + fountains and lakes, enlarge it to be the size of a small city, and then name it's roads after artists like goethe (i took a picture) and marcello mastoianni. i spent most of the day here, wandering through the park, finding block after block of therapy in the form of trees and flowers. and lots of love. there is lots of public love in rome, it's great. my favorite of all the little areas was a lake around which hang bright flowers and sit beautiful, intricate statues. for three euro, you can rent a boat and paddle around the river for twenty minutes in romantic glory. it was inspiring to see so many families and lovers leisurely riding around a lake in the middle of rome. life really is quite beautiful, no? at the beckoning of my dying feet, i sat down for a glass of prosecco (with a strawberry in it... divine) at an outdoor cafe where the waiter was very confused by the fact that i was speaking italian to him despite his assertion of english. after a while, he finally asked me where i was from (di dove lei?- the formal) and i replied that i was an american, from the midwest. in italian. he gave me a puzzled look and went back to his little station. amusing, nonetheless. i started back, and about an hour and a half later returned to my apartment to stash my chocolate before heading to popi popi, where i am told i danced on the tables as a baby. it had been one of my destination spots, and my roommates and i had planned a date there before venturing on the the jazz festival at villa celimontana.

first, we had fiori del zucca- zucchini flowers stuffed with mozzarella and anchovies and then lightly fried- this was my third time ordering the dish and it is, hands down, my favorite italian antipasto. for the "primi piatti," i had fettucini popi popi, an incredibly rich and flavorful pasta with peas, mushrooms, and pancetta enrobed in a perfectly salty cream sauce. ridiculous. both saskya and monica had an equally creamy risotto that had been stewed with tomatoes and crab- the delicate fishy flavor had permeated the entire dish. incredible. and although the food was lovely, the waiters seemed very excited to get us out as to make room for others, which is almost unheard of here. not so happy about my inauthentic italian dining experience... but, what can you do? se la vie- the lesson for the weekend.

i had heard there was, starting this weekend, an annual three-month-long jazz festival in villa celimontana, which is basically next door to the baths of caracala. (these in the night, by the way, are an immaculate sight.) we purchased our six euro tickets (!) and entered the gorgeous park, where we wandered around in search of the festival. the only sounds we heard were bizarre voices and sounds, and as that was the direction all the other patrons were headed, we went along. as it turned out, we were not actually seeing jazz this evening but an italian musical called "la rassegna." talk about interesting... the only thing i could really pick up on was that one scene took place in a dentist's office and another at the funeral of somebody named paolo, over which there was much debate. and, in reflection of the italian culture as a whole, although the characters and the language were clearly italian (flamboyant, energetic, passionate), the music sounded like american jazz. they even ended the show with a solo of "smile." in english. bizarre. but what was really interesting was that some of the comedy did translate. much of it was physical, and very well paced, leading up to a payoff that included bits that reminded me of noises off. even with their vocal inflection and speed, i could tell when someone was telling a joke and about to deliver the punch line. it was very, very fascinating. and made me want to perform. there was a grand piano at the back of the stage, not being used for the night, and it looked so very lonely.

as we walked home, we decided to come back later in the week. there is an ezra pound tribute on wednesday and the havana street band on thursday. oh, and a performance of jesus christ superstar on tuesday. to this, i say ???
i may have to go just to see if it's in english or not... we spent a few minutes trying to translate, and concluded that the syllable structure just would not work out. however, we found that this is not the case for "single ladies" - sing the beginning with me- "tutti senorini, tutti senorini!" thats it, micah!

oh italy, how i love you.

la notte bellissimo

school has been a bit frustrating. although fascinating and enjoyable (who knew how AMAZING the spaghetti western is...), sitting in class for five hours in the humid heat that even I think is too much has started to get to me. so, this evening, i dressed up in a new outfit and went on a date with myself. and what a wonderful, wonderful time it was.

i began my evening at le fate, where i chatted with andrea (the chef) and his girlfriend, as i was the only one in the restaurant right away (it was early for dinner- 7 pm.) i ordered the "french connection," a cocktail that is to die for and was incredibly refreshing considering my perpetual state of sweat. for dinner i had spinach gnocchi with pancetta, cream, parmesan, and speck followed by pate on fried bread that prompted me to immediately write in my notes, "this makes everything EVER better." an impression. as i was waiting for my food, andrea came out and sat next to me, explaining that he was taking his time in preparing my food so that i wouldn't eat fast and leave. as i waited for my therapy in the form of food, i did some writing of new things that have been in my head, and it was incredible to me how relaxing the whole atmosphere was.

the gnocchi was perfect in its simplicity, as i have found that all great italian food is. a few flavors that, when combined, create an exhileration unlike any other. the pieces of the dish were pronounced, yet came together in way that made me wonder why they had ever been apart. the textures, flavors, and colors seemed to match each other as if they were soulmates. and although the dish was made up of things that by tradition seem heavy, all together, with each ingredient's contribution, the whole thing was very light. it was as if i could taste the very composition of the sauce and the gnocchi, yet all together it worked as one complete food that wouldn't make sense any other way. what was even more enthralling and intriguing was that it tasted like something from my childhood- a raw and rich something one of my parents used to make me that resulted in my complete warmth and happiness. i felt like the critic in ratatouille minus the coffin-shaped body and perfected cynicism. the only way to capture this amazing creation in words? i scribbled down while eating that it was "like easter and love." i don't know, it made sense to me at the time.

the pate was unreal. although i wouldn't have spread it on fried bread, it was an interesting addition in terms of texture and flavor. it was heavenly and rich, and served with a grapefruit slice that offered nice acidity to cut through this potent thing of my most wonderful dreams. i found myself wondering if there was any way that the pate could be better, and concluding that i would never be the same after this gastronomic experience.

on to the rome chamber festival, which takes place once every summer over a two-week period. for the past two years, it's taken place in the oratorio del gonfalone, which has been described by many as a "miniature sistene chapel." frescos line the wall, and no amplification of any kind is needed- if i had spoken in a normal voice, the artists onstage could have heard me. we sat in pews lined with beautiful, golden cushions, and due to the small size, the intimacy was immediate and potent. i had bought a student ticket to the last concert of the first week, which included a jazz arrangement of "it ain't necessarily so," kreisler's praeludium and allegro (one of my favorite pieces to play and to listen to) and mozart's rondo in g major, all played by robert mcduffie on violin and elena matteucci on piano. they were subsequently joined by julie albers, a captivating and beautiful cellist, and the three played mendelssohn's piano trio no. 2 in c minor. this first half was laden with passion, and i'd forgotten how incredible it is to watch live musicians pour their heart through a piece of music not written by themselves. it was fascinating to note the styles of each- their facial expressions, body movements, and breathing patterns throughout the performance. at the close of the first half, i began to realize the difference between italian and american concert etiquette: although the audience clearly was enamoured by the performance and was shouting "bravo, brava" and clapping vigorously, no standing ovation was given. and after the musicians left the stage, this exhileration continued to bring them back out a second and third time- still no ovation. it was almost refreshing, as it seems that many americans will stand for even the most mundane of performances. after intermission (aka prosecco break) , we heard "original music derived from american traditions" written and performed by edgar meyer on bass and mike marshall on mandolin and mandola. this was such a joyous and cathartic experience- the two had obviously been working together for quite some time and were communicating with each other while playing in remarkable, subtle ways. i wished desperately to know how much of what they were doing was improvisation, as it seemed just like one of those fabulous theatre experiences during which you swear the actors could be performing whatever-it-may-be for the very first time in their lives. so spontaneous, so alive, so present. the songs, especially one entitled "early morning," were fascinating from the standpoint of composition. the choices made to go from one note to the next were creative in a way that was almost abstract. the way the two layered pieces of songs, supporting each other while having their own voice, was intricate and sophisticated without being overwhelming. after this performance, an ovation was finally given- by about only a third of the audience. i was grateful that this would be accepted as i was completely overwhelmed by what i'd just experienced. i stood, and tears rolled down my face as i smiled enough to pop every capillaries in my face.

i walked home along the tiber, where tents were set up for some sort of summer festival. underneath a cluster of coloured awnings, a group of couples danced the tango. i stopped to watch as i felt an overwhelming, yet contented sense of joy and appreciation for my life and the world. truly, this is "la dolce vita."

under the tuscan sun. (how could i NOT borrow that title...)

this weekend's trip: a group excursion in tuscany.

although lovely, the weekend was laced with feelings of insecurity reminiscent of middle school. unfortunate, but combatted with dinners and great discussions with my roommate melissa. i hate to be negative in my opening sequence about such a beautifully enchanting place, but if i get it out of the way now i shall find it easier to bypass the details of my frustrations throughout. now, i move on.

melissa and i raced out of the apartment fifteen minutes late than planned, and in a flurry made it up the 147 stairs as well as the consequent hill to school. luckily we were able to include a quick shot of espresso before boarding the bus of overwhelming american tourists disguised as students (my irritation stops here. maybe.) after a few hours, we arrived at fattoria del colle, a winery in the midst of the rolling hills of tuscany. it was every bit as beautiful as any movie could capture and more. we spent the first part of the day touring the winery, which also serves as an "agriturismo," which houses visitors who (for a price) can spend an entire week enjoying the local food and wine, swimming in the pool, and hiking in the hills. at the end of the tour, we tasted two of the wines that make this region famous: rosa di montalcino and brunello di montalcino. (montalcino, if i understood correctly from our tour, refers to the specific collection of hills where these sangiovese grapes are harvested.) on the tour, we were shown from a spectacular viewpoint the three different areas of the land owned by the winery, on which they produce truffles, wine, and olive oil. the rosa was from 2005, and was a deep ruby red color due to its aging process. it had a fruity smell and seemed quite thick as it swirled within the glass. it's smell was quite earthy, but very bright and cherry-tasting with a pleasantly dry finish. the brunello was from 2004 and was slightly darker in color, almost a brown/orange. we learned that this was due to it's five-year aging process. it was slightly thinner but much stronger in its initial taste- much more tart and astringent. after this tasting we moved to the outdoor restaurant area, where we ate a thick tomato-cheese stew of some sort, wide pasta with tomatoes and meat, roasted chicken and potatoes, and a fruit tart. this was accompanied by two different reds- leone rosso 2004 (not much of an opinion- very smooth and subtle) and centerelo, or "cinderella." remember the three different sections of the land? well, this wine comes from the vineyards in the middle, and the winemakers (all women except for one...) named this with two "competing" step-stisters in mind. this wine was buttery and rich, with lovely currant notes and a definite assertion of taste. after lunch, we participated in a made-from-scratch pasta demonstration, after which melissa and i hiked up and down the local hills to trequanda, where our incredible thirst and exhaustion was combatted by "aqua con gas" and panna cotta gelato. trequanda was straight out of "under the tuscan sun" and even featured lovely old italian men sitting outside the cafe. after a lovely walk through the vineyard and a purchase of the local chianti, we boarded the bus for pisa.

a few hours and a movie or two later (twilight... i do NOT recommend it... what a waste of melodramatic energy and money...) we arrived in pisa and entered the hotel, which was a block away from the leaning tower. this, by the way, is an incredible sight, although it is not particularly large by italian standards. depending on which angle from which you are viewing it, the tower seems either minutely leaning or as if it will fall at any moment. needless to say, melissa and i spent quite a bit of time trying to figure out how to get that damn picture of one of us "pushing" the tower up. it is MUCH harder than it looks. after an evening of ramazzotti (an incredible digestivo,) prosecco, and an almost entirely italian conversation with a local 20-something, melissa and i went back to the hotel to get at least a bit of sleep before the trip to florence the next morning.

florence: even earlier in the morning than one would prefer after a night of italian-style revelry, the beauty of this city is impossible to deny. although quite overwhelming, after our walking tour with a local (and perfectly euro-chic) sir, i was able to fit in buying leather sandals, visiting the accademia gallery, and enjoying (while dying and going to heaven AGAIN) grom- one of the most famous gelaterias in the world. first: the markets. florence has a concentration of shopping that, although legendary, is hard to grasp until seen. it was completely overwhelming, and although i did make one purchase i am quite proud of (previously-mentioned italian-style sandals,) i was so flustered that i actually purchased a pair of shoes made in CHINa due to the pressure of the atmosphere and the anxiety i let it create. however, my other two experiences (the museum and the gelato) completely made up for my ill-informed purchase of said (probably plastic) flats.

i had heard that the david was unlike anything else in the art world once seen in person, and although that sounds a bit much, it is absolutely true. furthermore, the academy gallery as a whole, which is only about five rooms in size, was one of the most incredible art experiences of my life. first of all, it houses the collection of the medici family's collection of musical instruments, which includes a stradivari violin that i literally teared up over. (just in case i had forgotten that i am a huge nerd...) secondly, there is a room filled with plaster molds of numerous sculptures depicting various people and situations of the old world. my favorite were those of the children , most notably the "girl of the turtle doves (innocence)," which was one of the more captivating (although plaster) pieces of art i have ever seen. thirdly, michaelangelo's sculptures and sketches were juxtaposed in a special exhibit with the photographs of robert mapplethorpe, exploring "the human form." i had studied mapplethorpe and his controversial nude photographs in my art class, so this was especially exciting and inspiring. especially fascinating that the two artists, although living hundreds of years apart and in vastly different worlds, were concerned with the same parts of the human body. beautiful.

and then there was the david. it is hard to even begin to describe the sheer beauty and impact of the incredibly detailed, captivating sculpture that reminded me so of the amazing structure of the human form.

after the invigorating experience of the accademia, i trekked through the city, visiting on my own the famous piazzas, narrow streets, and the ponte vecchio that the tour guide had shown us earlier. i made my way to grom, which is rumored to be one of the best places in all the world to get gelato (florence is the home of the incredible substance; the technique was invented and developed there, and is still said to be THE city for it's enjoyment.) the line was very long, but after one bite of extra dark chocolate and "cassata siciliana" (ricotta-based with candied citrus fruits,) i was convinced that any frozen dessert experience i'd had before (gelato AND ice cream included) was indeed inferior to this orgasmic heaven. the only possible exception may have been the blackberry, cassis, and caramel sundaes with vanilla bean ice cream i enjoyed on my 19th (wait- mom, was it my 18th?) birthday.

saturday night was spent with melissa, trying my first taste of wild boar (glorified beef stew- with salty onions and a warm sauce it was perfection) followed by more ramazzotti. after dinner, we sat at the hotel bar and chatted with a retired british professor who was in pisa for an educational conference. following this lovely experience, we ventured to the hotel roof. here we conversed with students while overlooking the beautiful leaning tower and the church next to it.

sunday was spent taking a walking tour of pisa and shopping the street markets for incredible, mostly handmade clothing and other various goods. also a wonderful risotto primavera at salza, which our tour guide asserted was the best cafe in pisa. the town, which was much quieter than florence even considering its tourism, was quaint and charming, and finally offered the inspiring yet manageable shopping i was looking for. after final shots with the famed tower, we headed back to rome. and, predictably enough, on arriving i found that i once again missed the bustling, crowded city. i am certain that the next ten days will come with bittersweet enjoyment, as i prepare for my return to the states while experiencing as much of the city as is possible.

love to you all.

if there were ever a reason to come to rome, this is it. and it's not the colosseum.

thursday night- the best food experience in rome yet, and definitely one of the best of my life.

there is a restaurant called le fate (the fairy) located on my street, trastevere, about a ten-minute walk towards the center of the city. the place, although it boasts half-off between 6 and 8 pm as well as a menu in english, is very subtle and understated in it's outside decor- just a few tall, wooden tables for two. i had heard incredible things, as well as seen postcards at school advertising their 20 euro (!) three-course cooking classes. and upon finding out that the restaurant my roommates and i had planned on going to was closed thursday, we decided to backtrack and try something else.

the restaurant is one room only, with a kitchen and bathrooms straight to the back. the setup is eclectic and decorative, but not overwhelmingly so. this combined with the friendly service (our waitress was from michigan; she moved to italy after she visited the restaurant and fell in love with the incredibly handsome and ingenious chef. how romantic can you possibly get?) rendered the atmosphere just about perfect. (i do have to admit that the jack johnson and beyonce playing over the sound system was a bit weird.)

the dinner began by my reading aloud to my friends the story of "le fate," which was on the inside cover of the menu and basically told of a joyous, charismatic fairy who goes around the world spreading the message of love. after this, i browsed the menu as a whole, after which i died and went to some taoist version of heaven in which the clouds are constituted of e.e. cummings poems and risotto, wine, and gelato are had in abundance with friends and family. i could tell immediately by the creativity and specialized dishes that this was a very, very special thing. my first order was the "le fate spritz," which was an aperetif with flavors of apple and lemon. it was light, refreshing, and perfectly sweet and bitter at the same time, and was an amber color, which led me to believe that it was perhaps dominated by a rum or whiskey-like alcohol. a perfect introduction. another favorite before-dinner drink was melissa's "french connection," which was basically a sweeter, more perfect version of a manhattan. glorious.

next, the bread and appetizers. the bread (which in italy never comes with butter and sometimes comes without oil as well- very different from the american assumption) was pillowy and moist, with a dark, fantastic crust and a touch of yeasty flavor. we also enjoyed an assortment of salami (some spicy, all salty, meaty and delicious) and a le fate specialty call "love and laziness." this consisted of mixed vegetables slightly cooked with a very light oil and basil. perfection. one of the incredible things about this chef is that is he lets the food speak for itself. it was as if he knew just the right amount of oil and spice needed to bring out the delicious, natural sweetness of the eggplant, onions,carrots, and zuchinni. wonderful for summer.

following this, we enjoyed a frascati wine (native to the region, like almost all of the wines served here) that was slightly tangy and very refreshing. as the bottle was passed around and we enjoyed each other's company and conversation (my laugh was definitely feeling free by this point.) and then, the bombshell was dropped: risotto with fresh blueberries, mushrooms, and pecorino. at this point i died a second time. it was hearty and warm, and i found myself in awe of this lovely man's ability to recognize that blueberries and mushrooms are THE perfect combination. the sweetness exploded in my mouth h so appropriately, and then followed up by a rich, smoky, subtle mushroom blanket. this was shared along with potatoes with "magic oil," which is indeed the perfect way to describe the dish. tastes of lemon, rosemary, parsley, and tiny pink peppercorns preceded that of the fruity oil, which led to the slight crust of the sliced potatoes, which led to the smooth, delicious inner meat. i could not have been happier.

and then, there was lamb. the special for the evening (a good way to order anywhere in this area,) which was accompanied by tiny and delicate roasted potatoes. this too was unbelievably flavorful. at first perfectly salty and oily, and then rich, deep, dark, and utterly fulfilling once through the light caramelization. this meat-and-starch heaven was contrasted with a small salad of spicy, peppery arugula and the sweetest cucumber i've ever had.

although we'd had enough food, we wanted to have a full experience, and so chose to do after-dinner drinks- "digestivo" in italian culture. these are usually various "amari," or bitters, to aid in the digestive process. le fate made their own varieties of these, combining incredible flavors to perfectly round out our gorgeous meal. i tried one infused with cinnamon and bay leaves- it was fragrant, spicy, and thick and i have since been haunted by its perfection. melissa tried a "montaccio," a grappa infused with fresh mint, which was incredibly present and refreshing.

the evening ended with the chef treating us to buttery, light shortbread cookies filled with nutella and dusted with powdered sugar, after which he came over to our table as we discussed scheduling a cooking class with him. although his schedule and ours did not coincide, he offered to teach us on sunday- his only day off- as long as he could sleep in. so, this sunday, i will have the opportunity to be with my four closest school friends in a tiny italian kitchen cooking an authentic, three-course meal. pictures, recipes, and more notes to you will surely evolve.

i love you all! make some pasta and share it with your fellow man.

jewelry stands and gelato in the park: my new italian friends.

every once in awhile, there will be a day which will be unlike any other, and after which subsequent days will be compared to. this is a story of one of those days.

i awoke early on monday, anxious to spend my morning with the city i had missed deeply over the weekend. i stopped at bar marado to enjoy a (free) breakfast, which consisted of a cappuccino and cornetto miele (a pastry with a heavenly, soft center of honeyed-bread). i also had along with me a dress and a cardigan, as adolfo (the owner and my favorite old italian man thus far) had told me that in the morning, i could meet his friend daniella, who came for coffee and also was a tailor. from what i deciphered, she would be happy to repair any and everyone’s clothing. unfortunately, i had missed her, and went on my way to the campo di fiori for what would hopefully be a glorious shopping experience.

although the morning turned out to be completely different from what i was expecting, it led to the first part of this story of the day. upon entering the market, i noted a table on the right with beautiful, ornate silver and beaded jewelry. the gift possibilities for friends and family were becoming overwhelming, but as i did not see anyone around, i started onward. i would not reach the center of the market for another hour and a half, however, as an old man (they love me here, apparently) who appeared to be the owner of the jewelry stopped me and led me back to his treasures. he was incredibly friendly and took the time to show me how each and every piece worked and what kind of people they would be good for. i chose a few pieces and he took them behind the table to make them ready for purchase. he sat down in his chair and presented a piece of thick metal around which he put the rings in order to smooth them out. as he nonchalantly worked on this, he motioned for me to sit down on the crate next to him. it was here that i would establish perhaps the best relationship with a local yet. the two of us conversed for over an hour as he made me not one but two extra rings with beads of my choosing, for free. and although his italian was rapid and mine broken (with addition of many head nods and gestures), we learned a lot about each other and i received some beautiful lectures on life. over and over again, he emphasized the importance of feeling in the heart “like a bambino,” or child. he had a wonderful time pointing out those who had a good quality and energy of “vita,” or life, and those who were not humble and were “egoists.” he talked about the animals and the sky, and how important it was to be aware of one’s surroundings and be content with nature. i felt as if i was meant to be in that specific place at that time- the message he was giving me was so pure, so beautiful, and so necessary. what was even more poignant, however, was that just when he happened to be talking about the animals and their place in the world, we discovered a large black beetle crawling on my arm. (this was right around the time that he was fitting me for my first ring.) he was ecstatic that i had found “tu amico magico,” or your magic friend. he then procured a few turquoise beads in the shape of beetles and compared the real to the artistic, emphasizing how important it was to treat him as a thing of beauty. a young man came up to us and pointed to it, warning me that i had something crawling on me. as if to poetically juxtapose the two differing attitudes, the old man shooed him away and instructed me to place him in a plant by a restaurant across the way.

after this, we talked about what we did in our lives, and upon finding out that i was a “studenta o cinema, teatro, e canto,” he brought me close and asked me to sing for him. “my funny valentine” and the opening of “someone to watch over me” were very pleasing to him, and he then started on my second ring. he showed me pictures of some of his customers over the years (long ago he had long, black, seventies-style hair!) and soon i had the pleasure of meeting a couple from the southern u.s. who had met him two years previous. the woman was wearing a bracelet he made, and he constructed a new clasp for her on the spot. our conversation continued, this time turning to food. when he learned of my aversion to tomatoes, he made sure to dictate to me a tomato pasta that would surely be beneficial to my health, and stressed the importance of “naturale” vs. “chemica” treatments for my stomach problems. after about and hour and a half had passed, i regretfully told him that i had to go to school, and he made sure before i left that i knew which days he would be at the market. forty euros and five pieces of handmade jewelry later, i was on my way, accompanied by fior di latte gelato (light, slightly sweet, delicious.)

school. not important to the story.

after school, i went to adolfo’s bar to try and catch the tailor, as i had understood that she would be there between five and six. when i arrived, he instructed me to order a drink. as i stood at the counter tasting my first campari & soda (think jagermeister meets a vodka tonic...not so great), he came up to the counter, complete with a vest, a bag, and a set of keys.

“andiamo?”

for those of you who may not know, “andiamo” means “let’s go.” i realized suddenly that he planned on DRIVIng me to the tailor shop. i had a sudden reaction that i should not get in a vehicle with someone i had know for only a week who spoke a different language from me, but a second, stronger thought won out: i would experience rome rush-hour traffic AND get my dress fixed! why not?! (mothers out there, breath, it’ll be fine...) so off we went in his car (of which he has five....one of them a jaguar...remember when i said working in a caffe or ristorante was a good career?) and drove through the traffic (not as scary as you might think) to a suburb that was clean, green, and spacious. very unlike the city center. after a long, broken conversation in mostly italian/partial english, we arrived at the tailor’s, where we explained to them what i needed done. as i reached for my money, adolfo pulled out his and PAID for my clothes to be fixed (30 euro- not cheap.) i was astounded, but he smiled and made sure the workers knew that i was covered when i went to pick them up. after this bewildering excursion, we drove back in the direction of the city, during which he pointed out all the important buildings and parks. i saw up-close the modern parliament buildings (very different from the forum but with an italian flair...still lots of arches), rivers that had been manually constructed, and a new area where a metro station was being worked on. as we drove around a gorgeous, modern-looking park, adolfo mentioned that it’s gelateria had the bEST ice cream. five minutes later, we were entering through the crowded parlour’s doors and up to the counter to order. he insisted that i get a large (think coldstone), to which i protested vehemently. however, like a true italian, he did not take no for an answer, and ordered two large gelatos. we then went to the counter to pick our flavors (in gorgeous abundance!) and decided on cioccolato, which looked completely divine. he insisted i choose another (caramel- decidedly too sweet) and then ANOTHER (pignoli, or pine nut- inCREDIBLE- who knew). we sat in the park, eating gelato and watching the children play. when this was finished, he asked if i wanted to go walking or go home, to which i replied in half italian/half english: “i haven’t washed my clothes in weeks and we have six girls fighting over the machine!” he laughed and we got back into the car. after another mini-tour and some busy roads, he parked in front of the bar and i thanked him profusely as we exchanged hugs and kisses on the cheek. “arrivederci domani!” i said, and went on my way, astounded from my day of good fortune random experiences.

and so i recommend: when you travel overseas, make friends. despite the language barrier, it turns out that they can enrich your life and challenge you as if they were your own from home.

i have no other words.

northern italy: the mountains, the rain, and the wc.

this weekend found me traveling up through northern italy, my destination being the small town of paderno, which is nestled in the dolomites of the veneto region (famous for its prosecco!) i was mildly nervous for my first solo trip across italy, although my roommates assured me that it would be easy and relaxing. i, of course, arrived earlier than necessary, and found upon entering the station that this was not necessary. some passengers even buy their tickets moments before their train departs, and are not any worse off than the others, as the platform numbers can and do change with minutes to spare. i was scheduled to take three different trains, one of which was a eurostar. these are roomy, comfortable trains with separate cars that include bars (!) the ride was moderately uneventful (i read about vittorio desica's contribution to italian neorealism) until, after tunneling through a dark undergroud passage, we shot out into the MIDDLE OF THE ALPs. these enormous, foreboding beauties were unlike anything i have seen before, with the exception of a dream i once had in which i was in a valley surrounded by giant jerusalem artichokes (like mountains, no?) the mountains (this particular stretch called the dolomites) held my awe-inspired attention for the rest of the trip.

i arrived in bassano del grappa (the area home of the famed digestivo...yes i did try it...not sure what i think yet, but definitely better than vodka.) and met with miranda, lily, and allison. we visited a gelateria (way too sweet this time...crema is not my kind of flavor) , a mod, designer lamp shop, and a bar to procure for miranda some hot chocolate. it was here that i experienced my first northern italian bathroom, which consists of a ceramic hole in the floor. in rome, i had experienced pull-chain toilets, sinks operated by seemingly invisible pedals, and lack of soap, but this i was not prepared for. after this initial shock, i came to accept that this was all i was going to get when it came to bathroom provisions. after this unexpected piece of education, i joined miranda, lily, and allison outside, where we were affronted by the first of several torrential downpours that would visit over the weekend. we bolted through the streets, finally arriving at a chinese restaurant (!) , soaking and cold. after some confusion with owners about paying the check, we braved the forces once again to make it to the bus to crespano with seconds to spare. once in crespano, we were picked up by a gorgeous italian woman and her two children, who gave us a ride to nearby paderno on account of the rain.

the next morning, we had breakfast at the apartment where one of miranda's professors was staying. it was here that i tried my first chestnut spread (!) , enjoyed blood-orange mimosas and incredible eggs with asiago miranda-style (!) , and enjoyed the heavenly lavender growing in the backyard (!!) after visiting the bigger of the town's two tabacchi's (prosecco for 3 euro...could it get any better?) , i sat in on a masterclass of opera students that miranda studies alongside. the glorious sounds of puccini and some french composer whose name escapes me now were underscored by another downpour outside. it couldn't have been more romantic. once the storm cleared, we took on the challenge of taking a walk alongside the mountain to find castle ruins that were apparently in the area. although we never came across them, we did find ourself among grazing animals, including cows and billy goats, some of which were the size of kittens. as we climbed higher, the saturated colors and intoxicating smells brought by the rain left me feeling relaxed and happy. after a dinner of potato, sausage, and parmesan pizza, i slipped into my second heavy sleep of the weekend.

the next morning, we awoke to prepare to unleash ourselves on the antique market at marositca, which is held every first sunday of the month. after running, once again, to barely catch our bus, we found ourselves in the piazza castello, which, as the name suggests, is settled underneath a castle atop a hill. my eyes gazed upon bags, sunglasses, and countless pieces that will surely furnish some lucky italian's apartment. my wallet could not be contained, however, and i walked away with a fabulous english carpetbag, venetian glass beads, and a necklace from africa. (the man who sold me the necklace was very excited to chat with us about obama after finding out that we were american. this attitude is rampant all over italy...how exciting!) after a FANTASTIC meal of risotto al dente with asparagus accompanied by an incredible sicilian white wine, we ventured to the bus stop. the bus, however, had apparently taken a siesta, along with its driver. an hour later (such is life...) we departed for bassano, where i jumped on a train with minutes to spare, in the true european fashion.

as i reminisced about the weekend, i found myself anxiously awaiting my return to rome. i found that despite the lovely, relaxing weekend filled with wonderful company, awe-inspiring nature walks, and vending-machine hot chocolate (you've gOT to try it...italy has everything!) , i was seriously missing rome. and as i stepped out onto the busy cobblestone streets, i felt an invigorating, warm feeling- the kind you get when you are re-acquainted with someone lovely you haven't seen in a very long while.

the wonderful world of food (and the relationships they procure)

i have finally consumed enough gelato and cornetti (croissants) to be able to write extensively on the sweets culture here, which is wonderful (although it did take me an entire week...). first: gelato, or italian ice cream. many of these places are advertised as gelaterias and are very consentrated around tourist areas. when you order (always uno poco gelato...very rich and sweet!) it will usually cost between 1,50 and 2 euro and they will try to put it in a cone, so gelato in a cup must be specified. if they come from a gelateria, the consistecy will vary but is most definitely a lot more icy than american ice cream. my favorite one had a mix of creamy and icy and came from a place about half way between my apartment and the tiber river (a 10 minute or so walk). it was baci flavored, after the perugina "baci" or kiss. it's the original chocolate kiss, the one with a hazelnut on top. however, the real winner came from a cremeria near the pantheon, which was more like american ice cream (although 100% full fat!) i ordered noccioli, or hazelnute, and it was the thickest, most delicious ice cream i have ever had! other flavors tried are tiramisu and coffee (the iciest but great flavor). however, much is left to conquer as most gelaterias have an enormous selection, including things like tartuffo (chocolate + whiskey), several different fruity flavors, and 3-5 different combinations of hazelnut & chocolate (bacio, nutella, etc.) pistachio also looks enticing, as does any of the chocolate flavors- they are almost black in color. luckily, i am here for a month and as the small sizes are really small (coldstone will most definitely scare me when i return...but i'm sure after five minutes of being in the store i'll get over it), i have no problem doing the research it takes to be able to inform you all of the delightful tastes and textures.

now, the cornetto, or croissant. they all look relatively the same (what you would think a basic croissant looks like), and some are covered in powdered sugar (boo) or an orange-flavored glaze (woo!) the basic kinds are cioccolato (beware...more to come), crema (usually an almond flavor) and naturale (but don't think this one isn't sweet as well- these are the ones with the glazes). as far as cioccolato goes, the key to deliciousness is the color. don't walk into any old bar/pasticierria and ask for one if you haven't seen it displayed yet. some that i've tasted have had a thick, nutella-like paste inside that is way too sweet and way too heavy for the extremely light pastries. (don't get me wrong, i love nutella, but it has no place in my breakfast of slightly sweet, lighter-than-air bread). these croissants will be characterized by a lighter colored chocolate, perhaps oozing from all sides. the coronetto cioccolato you want to eat will be displayed in the window or on/right near the ordering counter, and should have a touch of dark colored chocolate, a little coming out of each end. (many times, the pastries can be formed around a stick of chocolate. this is the jackpot.) i've had a delicious one of this style at le petit cafe (oddly french-named, although the bar's decor, pop music, and baristas are clearly italian). however, the winner i discovered this morning, at a bar/gastronomie about two blocks from my apartment. i had been excited to go to this place, as i'd seen the delicacies displayed in the front window and been told that the old man who ran the store was really lovely. interestingly enough, he'd seen me walking by each day and had taken to waving or calling out to me. so, as i knew i'd be heading up to school, i decided that today was the day.

immediatly upon my entereing he greeted me (ciao, bella- which is very informal and friendly, a good sign). i ordered a cappuccino e coronetto cioccolato. dark color, not too much filling, and the pleasantly surprising addition: the clear, orange-flavored glaze usually only found on coronetti naturale! chocolate + orange + cappuccino + ensuing discussion with delightful italian = jackpot. they have my service every day. he came around from his perch behind the payment counter and stood next to me while i enjoyed said deliciousness, asking me questions in italian. it was a bit challenging, but once he found out i was an american, things were easier as he spoke slower and injected english if i was unsure of the context. we talked about food, family, school, and his store (everything made in the back each day!) and established a friendship that i assured him would continue as i would come back "domani," or tomorrow. let's just say i can't wait for another morning!

greetings from italy...first impressions.

rome is giant and crowded and fast and dirty. car horns, motorcycles zipping by, lack of patience. people live in apartments that all have patios decked out with flowers, herbs, and other greenery. there is so much vegetation everywhere, it's almost tropical. Unlike @ starbucks, the line is not very clearly delineated and you have to push through to get a coffee. they all talk @ me very fast and say "ciao bella." i froze when attempting to order my first panini and just blurted out "sorry!" , after which the barista spoke to me in english. i tipped well to make up for my lack of culture. this is hard! hA. there is a flea market behind my building every weekend, and i am a ten minute walk from the historical center of the city, about twenty minutes from school. the apartment is elderly and marble. did you know in italy they have a certain amount of electricity that each apartment can use, and once you go over it simply shuts off?! i think it's brilliant...even better than cap & trade! however, ours is on some different type of system (there are 6 girls,) so ours won't just cut out if we use a bit much. it's all quite fascinating, albeit intimidating...but regardless, i''m here and we'll see how i do!

to you from rome!

i am in the computer lab @ my school...all of the rooms are small and quaint. previous to coming here i signed up for field trips for a weekend in tuscany (including wine tasting!) , a trip to the vatican to be in the papal audience, and a day in frascati, a small town outside rome that has a FASHION OUTLET. also planning a trip to orvieto with myself to eat @ the restaurants my father did and visit the place where i spent my first night in rome (sleeping in a dresser drawer, of course.)

last night the manchester united-barcelona game was held here, so there were 100,000 extra people in the city...i went to the pantheon and in the piazza there, barcelona fans started chanting their "theme song," resulting in echoing voices throughout the entire place. incredible, so much energy. yesterday was also monumental as i tasted my first gelato- noccioli, or hazelnut- and my first rabbit. the gelato was a little more my taste, but the rabbit was good too. they give you all parts of the animal because, according to my friend monica, "good rabbits are very small." the leg was the best part, tender and rich. it was served with cippolini-little white onions. oh and the ciocollato croissant (pane dolci in italian i think?) was divine. the pastries are incredibly light.

i have never sweat so much in my life, and my feet ache from the walking all day on the cobblestone streets, but it's incredibly worth it. the pantheon and the giant white monument...i forget it's name...were my sights for yesterday. the view from the top is of the forum and the back of the colosseum...for another day! seeing these incredible pieces of architechture is unreal. the history is almost tangible, certainly visible....i recommend a trip to rome for all.

my first class in an hour...post-warI italian cinema...ciao! love you all!

exhileration + frustration = rome.

shall we start with exhileration first? my housemate monica, who is fascinating and laid back and wonderful, wandered into the jewish ghetto, which is sort of along the tiber river and not too far from out apartment. four of us decided to explore it for dinner possibilities. it's one of those places where you feel like you're in the middle of nowhere, there's no food around, and suddenly: !!! very exiting. gold mines of food (including traveling violinists!) on small, winding streets. we ate at il giardino romano. the waiter was very friendly and brought us all the way to the back of the restaurant, in which was a small room (3 or four tables) with no ceiling. it was as if we were eating in a glorified, crumbling, painted & decorated chimney. we ate mussels and clams, blackened radicchio, carbonara (bright yellow from the yolks, the bacon unbelievable) , roasted lamb & potatoes (monica's dish- the winner) , some sort of smoked salmon with a spicy green, and saltimbocca (veal + proscuitto + butter + sage). we drank very dry prosecco and a bottle of the most incredible, rich, full wine called primitivo, which is a certain way of preparing the grapes. the waiter encouraged us to only speak italian (HARD) and was extremely helpful in getting us on the right track. patient and kind and attentive (rare for rome waiters.) he scolded me for having a phrase book and cracked jokes with all of us. @ the end of the meal, he was shocked we were leaving in under two hours, so gave us free dessert (berry tirimisu of sorts) so we would stay longer. when he found out we'd only been in rome three days, he was impressed...so...success! it was the best night so far.

and...frustration! most of the american students here have never read anything about italy, make no effort to speak italian in shops or with the locals, wear jeans and t-shirts, complain about their classes/teachers, and automatically revert to judgement about things they don't understand. and then wonder why they don't fit in, why the waiters are rude, and why people stare at them. the most bizarre part is that they have no clue that their actions may be the problem. it's ridiculous. the lack of respect that some students have is just as eye-opening as the roman culture.

as far as classes go, thank god for survey history, as frustrating as it was. my film class is 30 pages reading per night, tons of notes, and all about memorization of facts in order to understand the films we watch. sound familiar? today was obsession, directed by...let me look in my notes... luchino visconti. my italian culture/language class is half spoken dialogue in italian/botched italian, and half discussion about the culture: why this, why that, etc. both teachers are great- passionate about what they do, demanding but not too much. both were born in the us but have lived in rome with their families for years, and hearing them speak perfect english + american dialect followed by italian + roman dialect is fascinating. ah- another fun fact about italy- they could care less about copyright laws, and because i was not able to get hard copies of my books (one was out of print IN ITALY and had been for years, one ran out over the course of the day), the teachers arranged for them to be copied at a shop in rome. two books = 30 euro = 40 dollars. ruminate on that for a bit. there are other things that are very inexpensive as well- un caffe (a shot of espresso) is about 50 euro, or 65 cents, and a pastry is about 1 euro. if you want a cappucino or latte, the most you'll pay is 1 euro as well. breakfast is not considered a meal here in italy...more like an appetizer for the day, hence the low cost.

wow. many things. too many for one to read on a computer screen. i got carried away! hope all is well, much love, thanks for reading!