In case you didn't know

A few hours ago I was playing soccer with 9 kids that had an average age half of mine as well as a religious man named Padre Marco Giuseppe with a long gray beard and a sports whistle. Can you imagine that the girl with 20 years and red hair was the odd man out? One of the girls asked if I was German. The other looked pretty confused when I told her that I live with Francesco. For some of the other games we played, the brown cloaked, white cord belted, rosary toting Padre was the official and master gamer. His explanations were only half clear to me, the other half coming after I watched the kids and I looked pretty stupid for the first few rounds. We all played together as the sky began to grow dark and until everyone left the playground for their afternoon snack, including Padre. Francesco and I stayed in the playground to play. I, with a basketball and him, obviously, with the soccer ball. No matter how much time passes, I still love to shoot. Getting frustrated with my missed shots and exalted with the best ones, somehow helps in the thinking process. First off, even though the playground environment is very unassuming, it is still always difficult when Italians (children, bearded, whomever) speak to you in english when you are trying to communicate and form coherent sentences. I always get the "what's the point" feeling when the other can speak english. Also, when you listen very intently to someone, trying to understand and ultimately don't, it can be really hard not to feel stupid or that you are somehow incapable. This was all on my mind while I was missing most and making a few of my shots. Even on the playground it can be hard to feel ok. Probably after I had a few "makes" I remembered that the situation itself was pretty awesome and rather funny. Whether I understood every dialogue or not, I had still played freeze tag, Padre style. If I had a picture of it, I know I would laugh.

Also while gettin' my game on, I thought about the week altogether and realized that my experiences and how I felt about them through the week really illustrated who I am and what this adventure is to me. To begin. I found the geology buildings and saw the dinosaur posters, hand specimen cabinets and geologic time scale...it was the most fulfilling and excited feeling I had had all day - I will visit the department's museum of minerals before I go to any art museum. A less exciting experience... sitting in my vulcanology class with a room full or people who know eachother and not me. It was the same as being the new kid in shool, but in the new school, everyone speaks with their hands and you don't understand hand speak. Once the professor began about granites and magmas, I could not have been happier.

Last night I saw a concert performed. It soothed this inner nagging I had had for so long to go watch music performed. Music doesn't require conversational comprehension. Being able to understand the titles of the movements was only an added bonus. I remember feeling that the price of the ticket was so worth it, and if I had to choose between paying for a meal or paying for my ticket I would choose the music. My eye was always fixed on the cellist. It was impossible not to notice even how syncronized he was with the violist with the sway of his body, the nodding of his head, the intensity of stare.

Indeed, I also made bronwnies this week.

So. I dig geology, basketball, musical performances and brownies. Who knew?

Still lovin delivery

Today felt really good. It wasn't a day where I put on my boots and new pants and tried to look Italian - which is a total waste anyway - I slipped on my trekking shoes, forgot the umbrella and hit the streets, even running if I felt like it. The best thing here that I am learning is how to be happy, or to be responsible for my happiness. It truly can't be faked, but realized. Last night for example, sitting around swapping swearwords with the Italians was only partially enthralling, but the discoteche was the coolest, I know I will miss it when I go home. For me, it is not about the hot new hits or the alcohol or the Italian-speaking men, I just like to dance. Now to the other side of the spectrum. Tonight we had delivery (awesome) pizza. Sitting around the table would probably be boring for a lot of the discotechers, but I could not have had more fun discussing the noises animals make.

For example
I say a dog says "woof woof" They say a dog says "bow bow"

Indeed, simple, but when the whole family starts expressing the language of the animal kingdom, it gets pretty funny. Follow this with some nursery rhymes and I call it a good time.

More than anything else, today has been a good day because I had American pancakes...with Nutella.

Things I never thought I would see

Blue skies, new flowers, warm air, David... Florence was grand. We arrived without an itinerary and only the hope of surprise and new sights. Well, that was essentially the whole day. Florence really was a beautiful city and I had excelent company to see it with. Granted, there were zillions of tourists, even for a Monday in February. It was a tad frustrating for people to speak in english to us, but if we responded in Italian, typically they seemed happy to carry on that way. One of the best stops was at a stationary store that had the classiest ink pens, made paper and wax/seals. The woman who ran the store was incredibly kind. She was so happy to show us how the pens worked and how they made the paper. It really made me want to pick up the art of letter writing and feel like Ben Franklin.

Here are the pictures,


One thing that is not photo-documented but still excelent was my ravioli with walnut cream sauce. Who knew?

Hiccups, of the vocabulary variety

Being a home body, I am quite satisfied with my decision earlier this week to stay in Bologna rather than travel. First reason, I made oatmeal raisin cookies. It is great to bake here because it is very much in line with my "precision doesn't matter" attitude. The Quaker(tm) oatmean raisin cookie recipe does not specify that the butter should be Land o' Lakes, so I enjoyed using Trentino Alto-Adige. My egg was brown with a red yolk. Not white with a yello one. My dough had a strangely orange hue as a result. For cookies, that is fine, but scrambled eggs could be weird. Well, they turned out and I ate my full of dough which was the goal in the first place. On to reason number two. I practice speaking Italian while grocery shopping in an Italian version of Walmart than I do in Vienna with another American. My vocabulary is improving everyday because I am doing my very darndest to practice saying things, even if I don't know how to.

At the Tibetan stuff store...
In my head I say "Is this a necklace" (collana)
In reality I say "Is this a hill" (collina)

Trying to describe a raisin (for the cookies)
In my head I say "It is a dried grape" (uva)
In reality I say "It is a dried egg" (uovo)

At the dinner table
In my head I say "Is it common to boil cabbage for dinner?" (cavolo)
In reality I say "Is it common to boil horse for dinner?" (cavallo)

Third reason. For dinner tonight, we had four different types of cheese.

Lemons grow in the Alps too

Today is an island of pause to recollect my thoughts, delete emails and check facebook. Tomorrow and the rest of the week is still unknown, another project for today. Yesterday and the day before was an adventure and my mind is still reeling. Sometimes I have reflections on where I am and the situation that I find myself in. Walking through a town, Sardagna, away from a chapel shadowed by the Alps I felt this way. How did I end up here? I had just looked over a gravestone for the Battisti family and its members Giusseppe, Giusseppina, Giudina and Giusseppe. It was tightly packed in a yard that was colorful with other gravestones like it. It all was just so random and a place I never could have imagined being. Before that, we were on the side of the road outside of Cadine with nowere to go and nothing to do but to wait for a bus. We certainly are not ordinary tourists, they come in the late spring and summer, but we were witnessing what life is actually like for a population of people in the Alps. Also, there was so sweet geology. Next to the road was an excelent rock face that showed the middle of this hill we were walking through and I could see the folding just as if it had come out of my structure book. Oh, if only I had had my rock hammer.....
The day before Trento, we were coursing the west side of Lake Garda. Bus schedules are a beast to navigate, but I was thankful for our unexpected layover in a town called Gargnano. Best part - While taking a picture of a picturesque little waterfall neighboring an old stone structure, the man there called us up. We walked up the cobble stairs and into the open doors of his limonaia. You would not believe the color and fragrance that 20 housed lemon trees heavy with lemons could produce. Fabio gave us a quick tour and lemons each.
Traveling is best for the little things. The closed doors that open with surprise. The piles of snow that collect in a piazza next to medieval walls. Food, when you don't know what it is. Buses with a great view.



http://www.bcsp.unibo.it/events/events_%27pasta%20evening%27.htm

Pictures and a backwards movie

Link to the Venice photos

http://s899.photobucket.com/albums/ac196/jwaldsm2/Venice%20and%20Murano/?action=organize

My Venice video is on my youtube channel. Just search jwaldsm2, if it doesn't work, let me know.

Gondola rides...80 euros

An immigration meeting is putting the damper on a 9 day long trip to Prague and others, but me and my travel buddy Erik have made some alternative plans. Yesterday, we made it to Venice, which was not the dirty, smelly city that I had heard of. Away from the busy paths of mask and tourist shops were some amazingly tranquil and unique nooks. It was amazing to think that anybody even lived in Venice. More than 20 million day trippers go to Venice every year and most of the population there are only to sustain the tourist crowd. It is a tourist city, but if you can overlook the fact that traveling there makes you one of millions, it is worth it. Many of the streets were only wide enough for two people to walk hand in hand, but turn a corner and you might be in la Piazza di San Marco, the largest piazza in Europe. It would be large enough for a football field I am sure, and it is lined with more columns than you can count. It is impossible to amble there without losing your breath and feeling tied in your chest.
A similar tied in the chest feeling..."Documenti"
I decided to act out of character and take a bus. Boarding with my euro in hand wasn't enough, I found out, after I found the "biglietto" machine, for the ticket I hadn't bought at the tabaccherie. My bad. Two big, official looking man confronted me about this and soon after I was fumbling around for my passport. That was bad. So was the 40 euro fine. Life sucks, then you go to Venice and try a Fritelle di Venezia and realize that deliciously spongy, sweet cake things with raisins make you feel pretty darn good.
When bad things happen, and you just want to go back to bed and forget it, doing something is a way better method of getting over it. This has been a great lesson for me. Today I will suck it up, pay for a train pass and an entrance fee to the parade at Cento, a small town that celebrates carnevale. By the end of the day, I will be glad that I did. For the rest of the week, we might see Vienna, or a castle, but those plans are still in the works. There is a possibility that we will just board a train and hope for the best.

Once my pictures load, I will attach them all, as well as the videos I took. Until then...

Contrasts

My emotions here ride with the weather, I am certain. Walking to class today was absolutely beautiful as the sun shone and the snow melted. Having a few extra minutes to get there, I ventured into some of the smaller streets and let the details and newness excite me. The sun made the colors of the buildings, fruit at the stands, and sky appear so vivid. After class, my mode was changed drastically. Something about that boxy classroom and the black-dressed instructor brings me down. All the little details of language learning get to my head and make me really frustrated. It becomes really difficult to see the positive and remember my motivation for
trying in the first place. If I can't say something along the lines of "If she had wanted coffee, she would have asked for it" in Italian, somehow, my life will go on just fine. English grammar was never my niche, and neither is this. Pesimistic thoughts are fueled by darker skies, cold and dingyness. The walk home from class feels like this all the time. It becomes a 180 to my emotions prior to class. Everything looks dirtier, and I can't help but wonder. Italians seem to be incredibly preoccupied with appearance. They smoke, dress like they care and have a certain way to them. Most of the stores are clothing stores, underwear stores or pastry bars (in which, the pastries are made to look impecable). Italians eat, dress and act like they are trying to prove they are worthwhile. This is fine. What kills me is the environment. Graffitti is on everything, no matter what or how old. Dog feces and urine is constant on the sidewalk under frescoed walls. The air smells dirty and the buildings often appear to be in need of repair...or at least a touch-up. For people to be so concerned with their appearance, yet ignore the appearance of their environment really confuses me.
Every city/country has problems. The grass is greener on the other side. That is what this trip is about. I knew that going in, I just didn't know exactly where the brown patches of grass would be. Going forward, I am going to try and continue finding the secluded streets, the interesting details. Everything else that bothers me needs to be appreciated in its own way, accepted and probably just ignored. I am really hoping to figure out this irony and maybe understand why. Italians at U of I don't seem to understand my appreciation for cornfields either.