Over a week has gone by since the last time I had the chance to update this blog, and now I am overwhelmed with everything I want to write about.
Let me break down my week:
Sunday: Calcio game in the local stadium. Sexism can sometimes work in one’s advantage. For example, today I went to Viterbo’s soccer stadium and was informed that to watch a game it would only cost me 5 euros. However, for my friend Mike, it would cost him 8 euros. At first we thought perhaps we had misspoke and Mike was about to purchase the “good” seats, rather than the ones we were vying for behind the goal. The woman behind the counter then pointed our group to a sign nearby the ticket booth stating “donne e ragazzi= €5” (women and kids, 5 euros). If we wanted the good seats, it would only cost us females €8, but for Mike, a shocking €16!!! Us females took our tickets happily from the ticket woman and moved into the stadium, Mike trailing gloomily behind.
Once inside I instantly fell in love with Italian soccer. What is so appealing about watching players run up and down a field; yelling obnoxiously when you think the ref has made a poor call; cringing when someone gets thrown backward over another player; crying when the opposing team scores; screaming like banshees when the other team has a penalty shot, while enjoying an ice cream sandwich and the sun on one’s face? You feel like part of the team. They are your team and thus your family. You feel at home.
The best part of watching a calcio game is the players’ fathers, uncles, brothers, grandfathers, and friends down behind the goal shouting encouragement and when necessary profanities. For the first twenty minutes of the game we were confused by which blue and gold team we should be cheering for because both teams were sporting blue and gold uniforms and in the stands flags. We decided Viterbo’s home team must be the ones wearing white with blue and yellow stripes on their shorts because whenever they were on the offense the cheers would get louder and louder. Soon we realized the heightened stadium octave was not in encouragement but in grief and fear as the fathers watched on as their sons made sure their precious goal was protected from the men in white. When we were sure we were cheering for the correct team we began to try to join in on some of the men’s cheers. Sadly none of us could actually figure out the rhythms or the words of most of the cheers. Toward the end of the game, when the suspense began to ripple through the crowd and across the field where the score had only recently changed to 1-0, the men went underneath the stadium and began to pound out a beat to accompany their shouts. Who needs a marching band when one has two fists and an unlimited supply of metal paneling? Of course, due to their non-relenting encouragement, their sons won! Go Viterbese!
An interesting feature of the game that took us all of two seconds to realize was the complete lack of women audience members. We were the only women. And to make matters worse, we were American women, which really made us feel like we were stepping on the Italian men’s toes. I would like to go to another game, this time with only women and see then what the reaction will be. Stares? Angry comments? Complete avoidance? Should be interesting.
After attempting to complete some of my travel writing homework for Monday, we went to a club called Reverse to view the Superbowl after our other viewing options fell through. The smoke filled space soon filled with loud Americans, impatient for the game to begin. A few Italians joined the party which meant that even more smoke joined the party. After an hour or so of attempting to watch the game over the shoulders of other spectators, my throat decided it was time to go home. Walking back at two in the morning I realized how football is definitely not the same here as it is back home. Here, it’s all about calcio, and attempting to watch the superbowl surrounded by Italians more interested in watching the boys’ reactions to different plays throughout the game than actually watching the game themselves cheapened the experience. I think I will just have to wait until next year when I can watch the superbowl with my family.
Monday: Booked a trip to Barcelona and then it was off to cook in a fancy restaurant, which looked like something right out of Alice and Wonderland. Everything was either covered in glitter, painted green, pink, or purple, or glittering with diamonds. My cuisine class cooked numerous things within the span of two hours. I personally cooked something called parmagio (which is definitely not the correct spelling…) and I must say it turned out to be my favorite dish. It is cut up eggplant, dipped in egg, then breaded and fried in oil, covered with tomato sauce, cheese, and more cheese and then cooked in the oven. Yum! We also made gnocci. Gnocci I think is one of the dishes I will attempt to make when I come back home because it felt more like baking rather than cooking the way you have to roll out the potato dough and then cut it up, flour it and then cook it in boiling water for only a few seconds. For desert we made canolis (sp?), which this time I really, really enjoyed. The filling was ricotta cheese, heavy whipping cream and thin, thin slices of chocolate and oranges. I will probably never make the actual shells ever again because it is a tedious process involving a deep fat fryer and I would rather just buy them in the grocery store than run the risk of receiving a nice burn on my arm like one of the girls who was a little too anxious about one of the shells.
Before we ate the courses we prepared, the restaurant brought out sliced tomatoes and buffalo mozzarella to be enjoyed together. Oh my goodness! The best combination I have had with a tomato! I went the next day to the fruit market and bought two tomatoes so I can have this appetizer again in the comfort of my Italian apartment. The dinner was an overall success and I will most likely be making all of the dishes I learned how to make in the course of the evening when I return home.
Tuesday: As you might have already seen by the pictures I put up before, Tuesday I went and got my haircut. I took a picture of Katie Holmes to accompany me and was greeted at the door of the salon. No one spoke English except for the receptionist, but she did not understand what I could possibly mean when I said that I did not want the €12 shampoo, but just the haircut. I gave up and allowed them to shampoo my hair and then the cutting began. When they didn’t know how I wanted my hair cut in the back—the picture I brought was only of the front—they circled around me pointing to their own hairstyles, giving me options. The trimming was done before I even knew it—I never even saw her cut the front of my hair. Suddenly I had very short hair complete with bangs, or rather frangia as they would say. I love it!
Wednesday: What a wonderful day. I went to a nearby town, Tuscania, for a little day trip on my own. When I got to Tuscania, I could already tell I was going to be coming back throughout my time in Italy because one day would just not be enough. Within only ten minutes of entering the city walls I made a friend in Rita, and Italian artist who invited me to return with friends to learn how to make wax sculpture and then make the same sculpture in bronze. The first part of the lesson will be free, but then paid by the hour following that. I think it will be worth it because not only will I be learning a new skill, but also I will be learning more of the language and in the end I will have a piece of art made in Italy, designed by yours truly.
Walking up and down the steep streets of Tuscania I somehow continued ending up on the same street. How could I even tell with all of the streets looking exactly like each other? An old wiener dog guarding his owner’s studio door was the only sign I had that I was walking in circles. From high on top of hill occupied by Tuscania I was captured by the commanding views of the surrounding valley.
Here's my buddy
I went into a café called Café Duomo and spent about two hours talking to the owner, who spoke no English, his coworkers, his family and his coworker’s families. Two of the men were introduced as the town’s sheriffs and it took me a while to realize that sheriff was only their nicknames, not their occupations.
Firday: (yes, I am skipping Thursday because the only thing of consequence that occurred was I went to school) I went on a class field trip to Tivoli where we first went to a beautiful garden (which the photos speak for themselves) and then to another garden that to me would have been more correctly categorized as ancient ruins rather than a garden. The trip was a long one, but I am incredibly glad I went because I would have never made it to Tivoli on my own. I'm going to add a separate post for the Tivoli pictures
Saturday: A day with my homeboy St. Francis in Assisi. Saturday was a comparable day to the Sunday I went to the Vatican—meaning a whole lot of ancient history shoved in my face, forcing me to attempt to comprehend all that I was seeing. We first went to St. Maria Angela’s basilica where St. Francis’s chapel resides. This chapel is now surrounded by a resounding basilica that overshadows Francis’s original message of leading a simplistic lifestyle.
Oh you know, just some doves chilling
Francis threw himself on rose bushes as penitence but as soon as his body touched the roses, the thrones dropped off.
Where St. Francis died--went outside, stripped and laid down in the grass and passed on.
Oh yeah, I hiked up to a castle, no big deal
Gum anyone?
In St. Francis’s basilica I was fascinated by the painted panels circling the inside of the cathedral depicting the life of Francis. My favorite painting was the one where he is preaching to the birds.
A cute boutique I had to run into really quickly!
A nice Ferrari just for you Dad
I was also able to make a quick stop in St. Clare’s Cathedral before we had to dash to the bus stop so we wouldn’t miss our train. St. Clare is a fascinating Saint born into a wealthy family who decided to give up her materialistic lifestyle to follow her teacher St. Francis. Clare, at first not allowed in the church, was introduced as Brother Clare until she began the convent of the Poor Clare’s sanctioned by Francis himself.
Of course, a pink church for St. Clare!
The day was over before I knew it and we were back on the train heading to Viterbo. We didn’t get very far though. After only about a ten minute train ride the train conductor informed us we would have to get off at the next stop. Apparently some of the people in our group had told us to get on the earlier train, but what they neglected to tell us was that the earlier train was a fast-track train—meaning the tickets we purchased did not cover the cost of that particular train. They figured that we would be getting back to Viterbo quicker and that no one would notice. I was not very happy about this immature move on their part because the conductor could have fined us if he had so chosen to do so, and fines in Italy for getting on a train without the correct ticket range from €50-500!!! A fine I don’t plan on paying any time soon. But anyways, we made it home. I have come to the decision that from now on I will pass on the large group field trips because they are much more stressful and the immature attitudes of fellow travelers is something I would prefer to not have accompanying me.
Sunday: was a day of napping and relaxing and avoiding the large volume of reading I need to complete. In the morning I woke up early to walk to the grocery store, which is outside of the city’s walls, so it is better to go early in the morning because it is so time consuming. Well, when I arrived at the grocery store it was closed! Apparently, the only Sundays stores are open are the first and the third of each month. So, it is cookies and pasta for dinner tonight!
