From hill tops to Galery seats

Ok my dearies, this one's for you

Blog worthy things seem to happen plentifully but by the time I get back to my computer I have retracted into my complacently lazy self. Today, after swearing all weekend to study, blogging seems more important.

So the overall goal of learning Italian is still a wavy experience with conflicting highs and lows of success and failures. Today would probably be a fail, but that means tomorrow should be much better. In reality, Italian probably will never be so terribly useful to me, but the experiences gained here will be. If learning Italian got me here, I will keep trying to learn, but if I never become so great I know I can be happy with the friends I have made and the opportunties I have experienced. And really, misunderstanding a language really isn't the worst thing. Last night, I follwed a man's directions poorly (which probably would have also happened had they been in English) and found myself at a theater for flamenco dance rather than instrumental music. Not so bad.

Don't expect me to ever become a fiery whirlwind of long-skirted dresses, rhythmic feet and elegant balance. As much as I may wish, flamenco is just crazy hard. It doesn't even look easy. The woman I saw last night was just absolutely beautiful in the way she looked and moved. The men had more work ahead of them. Male Flamenco dancers in themselves don't attract that much attention, but the way their posture, elegance and insane foot coordination fit together is rather astounding. Plus, the music they built the rhythm with was just beautiful. Buttery soft with rapid precision, guitars like you have never heard.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qs4ieRAEjyA&NR=1

Just like me on the Ukulele.

Not.

Yet, I do love that little blue wonder courtesy of Marie and Jason's willingness to carry it through 22 hours of cross-Atlantic travel. It is a glorious way to fill time that should be spent studying. In the grand scheme of it all, isn't life about the little things? Perhaps in the future I will be able to play for my grandkids. They will find me way cooler for this than if I were to tell them about the corruption of Italy in the 80s.

Now let's consider the more useful of my academic interests. Vulcanology. I am sorry, but if a vulcanic eruption the day after we discussed vulcanic risks isn't a sign that I should become a vulcanologist, than nothing is. Even if it isn't a good excuse, vulcanoes are the coolest and everyone wants to know a vulcanologist after their flights around Europe are cancelled. I also went to the mineralogy museum twice last week. Go ahead, judge me - the second time was with a camera.

And this morning, I tried Orienteering for the first time, urban Bologna style. Pretty grand.

Me in a cistern


Me on a hill with Tiffany.


Bologna

Time is never enough

How do I recap the days of Jason's visit when the best details could fill a book? If brief, a recap is the same as reading an outline or a travel itinerary. If nothing else, you could describe our travels as a bit out of the ordinary. We did not follow the flocks to Greece or try and hit the major cities. We followed our noses to sunnier skies and let a few long train rides rock us into serenity, only hindered by a few impossibile word puzzles and inconsiderately loud phone conversations. Side by side, we rode to our destinations, happy to be side by side once again. Realizing we had an extra day to spare the weekend before Easter break, we opted to Asissi, in central Italy. Indeed, it was not straightforward. By the time we had walked through the doors of our hostel that night (11:25pm) we had missed three trains, waded through ambiguous directions (with cell phone out of commission) and quite nearly given up hope, or, at least I did. The following days were much easier as we romped around the countryside over St.Francis's old stomping (or prayer) grounds. We climbed through a castle and picniced with bread and olive oil on a hill side. All of this we did in time for me to make it to Vulcanology the next day at 1.
Thursday, we hit the trail/tracks again.
Rain was forecasted for Tuscany and Cinque Terre. Sardegna was a bit complicated to arrive at. So the night before going somewhere, Saverio asked why we weren't going to Puglia. Well, good question. By noon the following day, we were heading to Bari. The accomodations I found were nothing more than a shared appartment that had been converted into rooms for rent, but it served the purpose. Our goal was to arrive in Monopoli to rent bikes and we were able to do so just fine, without missing trains. From Monopoli we made a grand loop of two days that took us up away from the Adriatic, to a city with very confusing signs but delicious fruit and into "trulli" country. Trulli are goofy cone houses that are everywhere around the town of Alberobello, which, in itself, is unfortunately dependent on trinkely souvenir shops. Out of town, however, was the real beauty. Here we found open fields of spring flowers and the most twisted, anchient olive trees you could imagine. Think of the old tree in Lion King and these olive trees were not far off. Riding through was unbelievable, and fortunately, I needed lots of breaks so we were able to see them from a closer perspective as well.
At the end of the day, we rode our weary bodies up the driveway to a bed and breakfast we saw as we rode by. They had a beautiful little appartment available that was impossibile to resist as the sun began to set over the valley filled with the goofy trulli. It put us in the best position for the morning, allowing us to ride to the beach without hardly pedaling. Although the water was cold, the coast was beautiful. At the end of the ride, the pain in my butt made the return to Bologna seem rather appealing. The folks in Puglia were really fantastic and they left us with a great impression of the region and doggy bags of food. Not so bad.

Perhaps Photobucket can elaborate on the details, not every night is for storytelling