On Narrow Roads (My Italian Easter)

The idea of spending Easter Sunday with an Italian family began the Wednesday just before, and it went something like this:

My Italian literature class (consisting of five students when everyone shows up) and I were making our way back to the school building after taking a field trip to a museum nearby and my professor proceeded to ask us where we were going over spring break (which was to start the next day and go for ten days). The others gave her various answers of places in and outside of Italy, but no one was staying in Milan except me. When I replied with this, she turned to me and asked about what I was doing over Easter, and I, jokingly though retaining shades of truth, responded that I would be sleeping in my apartment alone. She gave me a look bordering somewhere between pity and horror and immediately told me I should come out and have Easter with her and her family. At first I thought it was one of this invitations where they mention the idea, but they don't actually mean for you to say yes. She was completely serious. So I told her I’d think about it. She said she would email me the details as soon as she got home. 

Not too much later, an email from her flew into my inbox, excitedly telling me it would only cost a few euro for a train ticket and that she'd really love having me there. 

Well, I said yes. Why not take the opportunity to experience a real Italian Easter while in Italy?

So Sunday morning, I woke up early, hopped on a train headed northwest, and nearly two hours later, I was on the border between Italy and Switzerland. It was beautiful, with all the mountains on the lake, some topped with white, and dotted with colorful houses. 

 

I was picked up from the station by my professor's (Laura's) cousin and I rode in a little car up tiny windy roads to a quaint village carved into the mountainside.

Laura welcomed me into her home and introduced me to her whole family - kids, husband, cousins, parents, aunts and uncles (…and cats). Some of them spoke English, so Laura wouldn't be stuck having to talk to me all the time. 

Over the four-course meal, her cousin and I taught each other how to say some things in our respective native tongues. He told me that "aya" is the way Italians say “ow” or “ouch.” I was able to help him with some phrases, like “just pulling your leg,” for example.

The food was fantastic, of course - all home-cooked Italian food. The first course was appetizers of various breads and dips, salami, and a chilled sort of vegetable salad with peas and carrots. The second course was pasta, hand made by Laura's husband, with some herbs, cheese, and prosciutto bits. The third course consisted of main dishes, which were a mayonnaise and tuna fish slathered piece of thinly sliced beef and another thinly sliced meat marinated in soy sauce and other things I can't remember (shame, shame). The final course was dessert, a cake called pastiera, a Neapolitan dessert that resembled cheesecake but wasn't quite, chocolate (from chocolate eggs, for Easter), and a sort of fruitcake in the shape of a dove sprinkled with almonds and sugar. Following all the food, there was the option to partake in having some espresso, which is how they finish meals here. It's a very concentrated drink, as I'm sure you can imagine, and they serve it in shot glass sized cups, sometimes with a little sugar added and sometimes not. 

After the meal was done and the many, many plates were taken up, we all banded together and took a walk through the neighborhood. The weather was beautiful and the mountains could be clearly seen across the lake and into Switzerland. 

Laura took us up to see her donkeys and the view from the pasture where they were kept was beautiful.

Two other kids joined us, about the same age as Laura's kids, ranging from approximately 6-10 years old, and they began to throw around a football. Now, I don't know near as much Italian as I wish I did, and this was made obvious sitting around a table with an Italian family, but when these kids approached me and spoke to me in their mother tongue and I didn't understand the words, it was still obvious they wanted me to play with them. They tugged on my hands and grinned at me, giggling. And so we played. That was a marvelous thing I had somehow forgotten about my time in Peru with all those kids - I didn't always understand what they were saying, but once we started playing a game, it didn't matter anymore. Throwing around a football and chasing and tickling each other to get it back required no language. I thoroughly enjoyed and wore myself out, and also made a new friend. Laura's daughter began gravitating toward me and when we were leaving to go back home, she sidled up next to me to hold my hand. Her mother just smiled and told me "she really likes you."

Later the little girl asked excitedly if I was going to spend the night. Laura had offered this up to me as an option in her email; initially I was going to politely decline, but once things began winding down it was really too late to try and catch a train in the impending darkness. So I told her daughter Lucia yes, I would. She liked this very much(1).

Everyone parted to go their separate ways after giving their goodbyes, leaving me with Laura's family. We gathered in the living room to watch a movie, which ended up being Frozen in Italian. Lucia sat close next to me on the cushioned chair for most of it before lying on her mom on the couch. 

Since I hadn't planned to stay the night, I hadn't brought a packed bag, so I didn't have any pajamas unless I wanted to sleep in skinny jeans. (Nope.) Laura without hesitation let me borrow a pair of pajama pants and shirt for the night and quickly prepared the guest room for me. 

We had done a lot of walking up and down the mountainside that day, so I was tuckered out by 11. I slept quite well considering I was in a different bed. I recall waking up only once, confused for a second on where I was. 

That next morning I awoke, had some tea for breakfast, and the family and I drove out to the edge of the lake despite the dreary rain. I could see Switzerland clearly from where I stood. 

 

On the way home we stopped at a 12th century church and visited the Holland Village where all the houses looked like those from fairy tales. 

At around one we had lunch at Laura's father's house, which was basically just leftovers from the day before (like thanksgiving is for us - we eat turkey sandwiches for weeks afterward). 

For the next few hours I sat and talked with Laura on a number of topics, and then it was time for me to go. We managed to plan it out so I could hitch a ride back to Milan with Laura's husband instead of paying for a train ticket, and now I'm home. 

It was a beautiful experience to spend Easter with Italians and I made sure Laura knew I was thankful for her invitation. It was a blast!

 Now that I'm back in Milan, I've got the rest of the week to explore around here over the remainder of my spring break! So there will be more pictures and posts soon!

Happy belated Easter!

V

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1 – Later, Laura would tell me that Lucia said to her, “I’m a little embarrassed, but I really like her hair!” in reference to me. Oh man she was so cute. She even drew me a picture, and it was of me! I have it on my fridge now to see every time I’m in the kitchen (which admittedly is quite a lot).

Adventures in Venice (Image Heavy!)

Ciao, tutti! (Remember that clicking on the pictures makes them bigger!)

This past Saturday (the 12^th of April) I had the pleasure of accompanying my gracious roommate and her friend on a daytrip to Venice, Italy. This little guy right here.

We awoke early to head to the train station. It was still dark once we finally rolled out.

The train ride was estimated to be around two hours and forty minutes long, which is just a little more than it took riding a bus to Verona. Keep in mind, though, that Venice is nearly twice as far away from Milan as Verona is. I think it’s obvious which is the more efficient mode of travel.

The view from the giant windows was very similar to the one I had on my way to Verona, so, as expected, there were several unused and decaying buildings near the tracks, some of them old train stops that have since been replaced by newer, better buildings close by.

I always think I might be able to catch a little shut eye on the train, but honestly there is no way I could sleep because of the view out the window. How could I let myself close my eyes when there’s so much to see? I’ll only maybe get a few chances to really embrace the Italian countryside – there’s no way I could waste that opportunity.

So I didn’t.

The train stopped a couple of times along the way to deposit and gather passengers. One of them was in Verona. I waved as we passed by buildings I had become familiar with only days before. I must say it was a very satisfying feeling to pass by that city and not wish I could stop to see it, because I have. I went. I saw. I photographed. A lot. And I planned to do the same with Venice.

As you probably know, Venice is known as the floating city, but here’s an interesting thing to keep in mind on how, exactly, it is a floating city: “The buildings of Venice are constructed on closely spaced wooden piles. Most of these piles are still intact after centuries of submersion. The foundations rest on the piles, and buildings of brick or stone sit above these footings. The piles penetrate a softer layer of sand and mud until they reach a much harder layer of compressed clay. Submerged by water, in oxygen-poor conditions, wood does not decay as rapidly as on the surface. Most of these piles were made from trunks of alder trees, a wood noted for its water resistance.” Pretty nifty, huh?

The view as soon as we emerged from the train station immediately seized my interest and Venice held onto it tightly for the remainder of the day.

My roommate, who had been there twice before, was able to play a very trustworthy tour guide and led us first to Saint Mark’s square. On the way there, many things became apparent: firstly, there were no roads and therefore no cars, so at least traffic with wheels was nice to no have to worry about. Secondly, canals twist between houses everywhere, providing many photo opportunities.

Thirdly, the “streets” are less like streets and more like alleyways which, between the squares and main streets, can sometimes be barely one-person wide. Neighbors could hang out of their windows and shake hands with ease if they wanted to.

            Fourthly, the water in the canals is an odd teal color, which I didn’t expect. I’ve read that it’s due to the brackish and polluted nature of it.

Lastly, the Venetians like color (the Milanese seem to as well, at least in buildings – perhaps it’s an Italian thing). The buildings pop everywhere you turn.

Saint Mark’s square was beautiful, but bursting with tourists, which made it difficult to take pictures without people crowding the lens.

We wandered inside the Basilica Di San Marco, pressed in by the current of people. There were signs posted everywhere warning against taking any pictures whatsoever of the history inside. That didn’t deter everyone, though, since no officer was inside watching to make sure it didn’t happen. Thus I sadly don’t have any pictures of the inside, but I can say it was the most extravagant church I have been through yet, and there have been many.

On the whole, I understand discouraging photographs of the statues and mosaics inside the religious monument because simply looking at it through a picture detracts from the overall atmosphere and environment that a cathedral provides – it’s almost like stepping into another dimension, really. So I get that it can take away from the experience and it is best seen with your own eyes and felt in real time, but by the same token (and this is probably just the photographer in me talking), I don’t see what’s so wrong with snapping a few pictures to carry as mementos, to perhaps in later years somewhat recreate the experience and reminisce on it.

That’s one thing I have really appreciated while wandering through every other church I’ve been in – you are free to take as many pictures as you please, but the implicit agreements are that you don’t use flash (which makes things hard since the churches tend to be dimly lit) and that you keep the shutter noise on your camera to a minimum. The respectful silence is very easy to disturb and you’ll get dirty looks even if your shoes clack noisily along the stone. Those sorts of sounds pierce the atmosphere, and thankfully most people understand this.

One other thing that has been really neat to see is that the churches are still used; they aren’t simply museum pieces, destined to sit unmoving in a spotlight for the rest of their existences. While I’m not Catholic, I think it’s a beautiful thing that they still hold mass and sermons regularly inside the ornate cathedrals. They double as tourist attractions and functioning churches.

Unfortunately this is not the feeling I got from the Basilica Di San Marco. It felt wholly like a tourist attraction and nothing more. The atmosphere it cast definitely did not have the depth many other cathedrals did.

Following that, we wove through the streets back to a restaurant that caught our eye a couple hours previously. I ordered lasagna (surprise, surprise). Something I’ve heard, and this seems to be true, is that when it comes to Italian dishes, they tend to place more importance on the pasta and cheese than they do the sauce. My lasagna was delicious, but way cheesier than saucy, which I am not used to. My family places the most importance on the red sauce, the tomato-y and flavorful lusciousness, so this is an interesting concept for me.

After lunch, we made our way back to Saint Mark’s square to climb to the top of this monstrosity (in an elevator, of course):

The panoramic view of Venice from above was so breathtaking, I quickly forgot about how windy and chilly it was up there in the bell-keep of Campanile Di San Marco.

 

 
 
 

I am so thankful for these towers, because the one in Verona provided a very surreal view of the city as well. What I like about Venice, though, is the water – you see the curve of the coast and the boats, and not just rooftops (don’t get me wrong, those are marvelous as well).

Following that exceedingly satisfying sight, we took it easy, moseying through the alleys and taking a few breaks to hang our feet over the edges of canals. We sat and just breathed it all in. (The air was noticeably cleaner in Venice versus Milan due to the absence of cars and smog, I would suspect.)

 

The weather stayed gorgeous the whole day; the air was warm and the sun made several appearances. It was similar to Verona in that the weather was the perfect kind to travel in.

On our lazy way back to the train station, we went down some alleys that ended in stairs going directly down into the water, and as we were standing at the end of one specifically taking pictures, a few gondolas went by (the waterways were loaded with them) and as they passed, one of the gondoliers winked at me.

I’ve heard it costs quite a pretty penny to ride in one of those, which actually doesn’t surprise me since they are traditionally used for ceremonies, like weddings and funerals. Big to-dos, and all that. I bet the gondoliers make pretty good money during the on-season.

Once it was finally time to load back up onto the train, I felt thoroughly pleased with the time spent in Venice. I hadn’t felt rushed or that I had missed seeing anything. The setting sun on the way home provided a good finish.

Trip to Venice? Superb. Worth it? Very much so. I would love to have an apartment that has a window with a balcony over one of the canals so I could sit, hang my legs over the edge and read or write. I don’t know about you, but I think that would be the ideal perch.

The next few adventures on the books are to thoroughly explore Milan during my spring break, which started today and lasts till the 27^th, and that will consist of seeing The Last Supper by Leonardo DaVinci (yes, the real deal!), and popping around to the most noteworthy monuments in town, like the Monumental Cemetery, going to the top of the Duomo, and other things of that nature. I’m also scheduled to go to Florence on the 19^th of May, and that’s still a month off, but it’s happening! I’m very excited and very glad I was able to get out of Milan.

Thank you for all your support, love, and interest – the blog posts and pictures will only keep coming!

Arrivederci, amici!

V

Tour of Verona (Image Heavy!)

Ciao, everyone!

As most of you have seen or heard, I took a trip to Verona on Sunday, April 6^th and spent the entire day wandering the city and snapping pictures. (In fourteen hours I had taken three hundred and fifty-three pictures, which equates to about one picture every two and a half minutes.) Needless to say, I was wiped out when I got home and I’m still feeling the effects of the intense walking multiplied by the strong sun and long day. Is travel-hangover a thing?

Much to my glee, at about 7:30am I found out we were riding on double decker charter buses from Milan to Verona, so we were definitely rolling in style. I made sure to get a seat on the upper story, naturally. This greatly altered the usual perspective I would have had as we zoomed down the freeway.

During the two and a half hour trip (felt a lot longer somehow) I noted several things dealing with the landscape and its changes as we left Milan and neared Verona. There was a surprising amount of hollowed out buildings that really made me itch to explore them, one of them being what looked like an old school, perhaps middle or high by American standards. Accompanying that were several grand, refreshing stretches of green (Milan, as a city, lacks much greenery) with big factories dotting the fields, and this reminded me repeatedly of the long van rides I became accustomed to in Peru between home and the grocery store forty-five minutes away, except instead of greenery it was mountains of sand and billboards. One other random thing I realized was that people actually do ride their horses through the vineyards. I thought it was only a movie fictionalization that had caught on, but no, that’s just how they travel more efficiently from the front to the back of their vineyards (of which there were very, very many).

Upon arriving in Verona, the first stop was the massive Roman Arena from the 3rd century. It's been converted into a place that the Veronese hold concerts and operas in the summer when the nights are warm. The weird pink hue the whole arena has is due to the fact that it was built with white and pink limestone. 

 

 

The structure itself is beautiful, but the view out into the city from the topmost steps is noteworthy as well. 

After working out my knees on all the steps up and down the arena, we wandered the streets toward our next destination, which the city is very well known for: Juliet's house and balcony. The streets were narrow and cobblestoned, and did nothing to help the already forming ache in my feet, and tourists abounded. It was difficult to squeeze through some mobs of people even as a little individual like me and I saw numerous men and women powering strollers through the masses which must have been exceedingly frustrating. I could only attempt to strategically maneuver my way around people. Honestly I don’t think Juliet’s balcony was worth all the fuss of getting through the crowd (it was a very popular tourist attraction), but still, it was just one stop along the way.

To get to the famous balcony in the courtyard inside Juliet’s house, we had to walk through a long archway that had walls painted with white to resemble canvases. These were there for couples to write their names together on, I suppose to echo Romeo and Juliet's love (I'm not a huge fan of the play, but the idea is nice).

Another symbol that could be found around the city to signify the discovery of true love (again due to Romeo and Juliet) was to buy a padlock, lock it on a gate or chain, and throw the key away (generally into the river, just to add even more drama) to show that true love never dies, or something sappy like that. Made some neat pictures, at least. 

From there we broke for lunch, and the two girls I was with and I wandered away from the tourist food and found a nice place with outside seating. I had pizza of course, and the tomato sauce was so rich in taste I couldn’t help but eat the whole thing. I regret nothing.

Next on the agenda was climbing to the top of the Lambert Tower. It’s eighty-four meters high (two hundred and seventy-five feet) and was begun in 1172, but many restorations and enlargements happened in later years due to a lightning bolt strike as well as simple upkeep. The clock was added in 1779, so that was definitely not written in the original plan.

There are nearly four hundred steps to get to the bell hold, circling around and around, but thankfully there was an elevator. The view of the town from the top was breathtaking to say the least. 

 

Following this exciting excursion, we dragged ourselves to the Basilica Sant’Anastasia, which retains the same basic structure of many other basilicas and cathedrals I’ve visited. It was beautiful on the outside and incredible on the inside, everything so ornate and elegant, as the Italian churches are wont to be. The construction began in 1280 and finished in 1400 (and we think it takes modern construction workers forever to get anything done).

Once done there, we stumbled up several steep flights of stairs to the overview in front of Castel San Pietro which provided an impressive overlook of the city with the river flowing through it.

 

We were only able to rest for a few minutes before wandering back down the stairs to another cathedral called Duomo di Verona. A choral performance was going on when we got there and the singing was heavenly, made even better by the astounding acoustics of the Duomo so that anywhere you were in the cathedral, you could hear it. I think it’s nice that the Italians still utilize these churches not only as sorts of museums for us tourists to poke our noses in and sniff around but also as actual meeting places to worship and listen to sermons. They are fully functional, in that respect, but the wooden pews leave a lot to be desired.

Our last stop as the sun was descending and the minutes were ticking down to our departure was a castle called Castelvecchio, which means “castle old” when translated literally. It is the most important military construction of the Scaliger dynasty that ruled the city in the Middle Ages. Construction was carried out between 1354 and 1376, so says an online source. It was fairly large but compact and there was a lot to take in, though unfortunately we didn’t have the time for all of it. We kind of had to rush through the last half of it, and even lost our guide twice just trying to keep up.

We loaded back up into our buses and waved goodbye to Verona at around 6:30pm. My thighs screamed, my toenails hurt (is that even a thing?), and I was daydreaming about sleeping in my bed back in the apartment, but even with all these things floating around in my head, I still felt the day had been spent well. I was very satisfied with my time in Verona, who I spent it with, and the pictures I took. I can't imagine I’ll ever be back there, but it was definitely a good choice to go.

So thank you, Verona, for making my sixth of April memorable.

As for other general updates, this week I’ll be passing the halfway mark (I’ve been here nearly fifty days already!) and spring break is in a week and a half and stretches from the 17^th to the 27^th. I’m not quite sure what I’ll be doing over that time just yet, but there are some possible options on the horizon, so we’ll see. I’d rather not just be in Milan the entire time because I don’t have to worry about classes for such a long while I’d like to take advantage of that, but the main thing for me that’s hard is finding anyone to go places with me because most everyone I’ve spoken to has already been where I still want to go. I’ll figure it out.

In any case, I have a Venice trip this coming Saturday, which I am super pumped for, and I’m hoping to at least get Florence in before my time here is up. Rome would be fantastic, but I’m not sure how plausible it would be. Going to Rome around Easter time is probably one of the worst ideas. Well, we’ll see.

Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed, and I’ll definitely see you next week with a follow up on my Venice trip!

Until then, take care!

V