"When in Rome....."

Rome in my opinion is the city of life (it is known as the Eternal City). Paris might be the city of lights, but Rome is full of rich and ancient history. The Coliseum, Roman Forum, and Pantheon are a few of the ancient ruins and monuments that are intertwined with the new buildings of Rome. The contrast between the skyscrapers in cities such as New York City and the mixture of old and new in Rome was clearly visible. The Coliseum and Roman Forum were two of my favorite sites in Rome. I was able to enjoy them in the beautiful sunny and seventy degree weather with only a few interruptions of large tourist groups (I am excluded from the stereotypical tourist group because I have been in Italy for over two months). Rome was not only beautiful but the four days I spent there were magical.

Rome, or Roma as the Italians refer to it, is the capital city of the Italian Republic. Rome is the largest city in Italy and is also an ancient city. Rome is believed to be founded in 753 BC by the native Roman population (the date is based on a mythological account), but historians think it was in 625 BC. Rome was ruled by the Roman Senate which is commonly referred to as the Roman Republic, and is named for its first ruler Romulus. Romulus and Remus were twins who were said to have been raised by a she-wolf. Together they decided to build a city. Romulus killed Remus after an argument and named the city after himself. Not only is the image of the twin boys and the wolf displayed in metal and stone sculptures all over Rome but is also on tourist t-shirts, hats, trinkets, and bags.

On my first day in Rome I was able to see the Pantheon and various ancient buildings around it. There were water fountains everywhere which was a nice alternative to buying bottled water. After the Pantheon we took the bus through Rome and over the river to Vatican City. A nice older man on the bus directed us to the right bus stop and we were in one of the two independent city states in Italy. Vatican City was beautiful and the museum was full of everything imaginable. My favorite part was the Sistine Chapel and Saint Peter’s Basilica. I was able to attend mass in Saint Peter’s which was unbelievable.
The oldest part of Rome is the Palatine hill and the surrounding areas. Rome’s geographical location allowed it to in the crossroads of traffic. The Roman Forum is directly below the Palatine Hill, and was my favorite part of Rome. Emerging from the metro station the first thing I saw was the Coliseum and the Forum. It was breathtaking against the bright blue sky, and the sun beating down. The Forum began as an open air market, but as the political arena grew the space shifted uses. I was able to walk on the ancient Roman roads around the ruins which included the arch of Septimius Severus, the Temple of Antoninus and Faustina, the Atrium Vestae, and too many others to recount. Walking through the Forum felt as if I had been transported back in time. I could almost see ancient Romans going about their daily life in the majestic buildings. The Roman Forum is truly a feat of enormous proportions



 On Saturday after the Roman Forum and Coliseum I went to the Spanish Step and walked down the main street of shopping (all very expensive!) but luckily I was able to find a H&M. After the quick fix of shopping it was on to the Trevi Fountain. The fountain at night was spectacular! I threw in a few coins and made a wish, hopefully it will come true! On Sunday the plan was to go to the Catacombs, after getting lost because it wasn’t on the map I was finally on the correct bus. Unfortunately the Catacombs were closed when we reach them so instead we walked around some ancient roman ruins in the beautiful sun.

Even though a majority of my time was spent marveling at the wonders of the ancient world (and a good deal of pensive thought about how they were built) I was also able to enjoy the culture of Rome. I had dinner one night in a Chinese restaurant that was a splendid change in cuisine but also extremely inexpensive. I saw diverse cultures everywhere. From the food to the people, many different cultures were represented. I saw a film crew outside a hotel, rode the metro like a pro, and practiced the art of asking for directions. All I can say to sum up the weekend in a fascinating city is… When in Rome!

An Italian Halloween

Halloween in Italy, it sounds funny because Halloween is such an American holiday but amazingly Sansepolcro delivered a very memorable Halloween. I have been volunteering in the elementary schools helping the children learn English. Three of the girls here, including myself, have elementary children so all of the girls here decided to throw a Halloween party in the palazzo. After spending the entire evening Saturday and Sunday afternoon decorating, the palazzo was ready for the two hundred children we invited. There were paper bats hanging in the hallways, tombstones, pumpkins, and all sorts of festive orange and black decorations. We all tried to have some sort of costume; I ended up being a cat, including a nose, whiskers, and ears.

Even though the party was not supposed to start until six, the children started to pour in at 5:45. From that point on it was crazy. Children were running around in costumes and the parents sat and watched the madness unfold. Luckily we had planned multiple activities including our personal favorites from past Halloweens and fall festivals, these including pasta necklaces, leaf rubbings, coloring, cookie decorating, and of course trick-or-treating. Once the children were under some kind of control (children having fun are never truly under control). I had several parents come up to me and say how nice it was to invite all the children. Hopefully the children of Sansepolcro were able to have a small taste of Halloween and enjoy the night.

After the party finished at a little after eight (it was supposed to end at seven thirty, but Italians have a different view of time than Americans). I went with three other girls to Citta di Castello a neighboring town in Umbria about thirty minutes away from Sansepolcro to go to the discotecca, or the Italian club. Once we got off the bus we realized we had no idea where we were in Citta di Castello or where we were supposed to go. To make matters worse teenagers where throwing firecrackers into the street, and several came very close to our feet. We asked for direction and were told we were going the wrong direction and were extremely far away. After walking the right direction I asked a nice looking couple to make sure we were headed in the right direction. They looked at us in our dresses and heels and told us they would take us. We were at first hesitant but the man was a member of the Carabinieri, or Italian police force so we decided if we could trust anyone it would be this couple.

It turned out the couple had a son about our age, also in the carabinieri, who was going to the discotecca. They dropped us off at a pub to meet their son and his friends. They all turned out to be extremely nice and welcoming to us lost American girls. After two hours with our new friends we finally made it to the discotecca. In all, it was my best Halloween so far. I was able to teach the children about Halloween, meet new Italians, and dance into the wee hours of the morning; the perfect combination!

“One cannot think well, love well, sleep well, if one hasn't eaten well.”- Virginia Wolf

Countries are characterized by their individual and unique cultures. A main component of culture (to me) is food. When I think of food in Italy pizza and pasta immediately come to mind. Italy seems to have a plethora of pasta including all shapes and fillings (all are delicious). Food has always interested me, and I cannot remember a time where I was not in the kitchen helping my mother. You could say food is one of my passions. On Thursday I was able to take part in the ancient tradition of making homemade fresh pasta. Patrizio, the husband of the associate director of the program, came to the palazzo to instruct the group on the art of pasta. In the United States pasta comes dried in a box or plastic wrapping. The concept of fresh handmade pasta is known but never seen. Making pasta seems extremely tedious when it would be much easier to simply dump dried pasta into water. I will now stand on my soapbox and say that pasta fresca is not too difficult to prepare. It does take longer than the dried variety, but the results are well worth the time and effort!

Pasta is organized into two categories, pasta lungo and pasta corto which translates into short and long pasta. Pasta is made by mixing flour with eggs. This is similar to the ingredients for pizza which is flour, water, and yeast. It’s hard to believe that such simple ingredients can produce a versatile and tasty meal. Pasta is documented from the 5th century but the knowledge of mixing flour and water dates to ancient Greece and earlier. The shape not only provides an interesting element to the dinner plate, but also surface area for sauce to adhere to, a way to layer (lasagna), and fill (ravioli and tortellini).

To make pasta is incredibly simple, but yields amazing and quite tasty results. First on a large flat surface (we used a wooden cutting board) one kilo of flour was poured, and a well was made in the center. In the well twelve eggs are cracked but left unbeaten. The eggs were then lightly salted with about a teaspoon of salt. Patrizio then took a fork and beat the eggs, slowly folding in the flour as he did so. The way his hands skillfully moved was incredible. They were quick and precise. He was able to mix in the flour without forming any lumps. The pasta was kneaded and rolled out into a large thin circle. From the circle the thin pasta was folded into fifths and sliced. This dough could be formed into most forms of fresh pasta depending on how thin or thick the noodles were sliced. We cut the noodles about one forth of an inch thick to make tagliatelle and tagliolini (I am still not sure of the difference besides the width of the noodle).



After the tagliatelle we made another type of pasta that involved cooked potato and flour called gnocchi (personally one of my favorite types of pasta). The potatoes were boiled and put through a food mill which gave the gnocchi the correct consistency. The dough was again kneaded but this time was sliced into small rectangles instead of rolling it out flat. After all of the work it was finally time to cook the pasta! Another surprise was the time it took to cook. After adding the pasta to boiling salted water (I was told the salt is very important to add flavor) it only took about a minute for the gnocchi and tagliatelle to rise to the surface. Fresh pasta is marvelous! I know that people always say fresh tastes better, but the truth is it does!

I am excited to try making my own pasta for my friends and family (it might take some practice to get it right). Coming home with a few cooking skills from a country known and renowned for its cuisine would be the cherry on the cake of a semester of a lifetime!!

"God gave the angels wings, and he gave humans chocolate." – Anonymous

Travel Journal 7, October 16th 2010

I have always considered myself a lover of chocolate. Pictures from my first birthday show me with dark chocolate cake smeared all over my face and a huge grin. So you could say I started early. From the three layer chocolate cake my mother makes from scratch for my birthday (she still does to this day), to my homemade dark chocolate ice cream, I have tried it all, and loved most of it. I am not a huge fan of milk chocolate (all the milk and sugar masks the true flavor and aroma of pure cacao), but I have tried the combination of chocolate and bacon. In my opinion, trying new and often odd combinations makes up for my mild dislike of milk chocolate. If there was one food I could not live without (there are many) chocolate would be high on my list. The idea of a chocolate festival had my mouth watering and my taste buds tingling. I practically drooled when I found out my weekend excursion would take me to the chocolate festival. Forget love-- I'd rather fall in chocolate.

On Saturday I attended the 17th annual Eurochocolate festival in Perugia. I was informed that between fifty and one hundred thousand people were expected to attend. In other words, watch your purse! This was almost as difficult as picking out what chocolate I wanted to buy; my mind was focused solely on my stomach and not my belongings. The chocolate was a huge distraction, but I was lucky and escaped with several types of chocolate as well as my purse. The festival is two weekends long and dedicated to chocolate (or the sweet food of the gods). Eurochocolate was established in 1994, and today is the most attended event in Italy relating to just chocolate. The festival showcases not only the various types of chocolate, but also the city of Perugia. Perugia, the Capital of Umbria, is a city well known for its Etruscan monuments, other historic buildings, and Universities. Perugia was an Etruscan settlement, but latter was under Roman influence. Etruscan, is the civilization of the Tuscan region of Italy that dates to prehistoric times. Etruscan settlements lasted until the founding of Rome. Etruscans were known for their use of metal and their wide influence on Italy. Their settlements are characterized by thick walls, and were placed on hill sides. To reach the center of the city, where Eurochocolate was located, I passed through a series of large walls. The main part of Perugia was situated looking out over the valley below. The parts of the ancient city wall were visible in the building where I used the escalator to ascend to the center of the city. The escalator opened up into a cavernous space full of arches and small side rooms that reminded me of the cellars in the Ducal Palace in Urbino. The character of Perugia, and the smell of fresh chocolate created the perfect blustery morning, ideal for gorging on chocolate. What could be better that Italy and chocolate? In my opinion nothing; this was the epitome of my life, that is until I go to Rome.

Stepping into the bustle of the festival was similar to the current in the ocean; you moved with the crowd. The whole time my nose was on overdrive. The steaming hot chocolate, warm crepes, and freshly molded chocolate had the most intoxicating scent. Everything smelled and looked wonderful, making it extremely difficult to narrow down my choices. The street performers, men dressed up like chocolate bars, living statues, and the diverse crowds, were fascinating. The whole experience was similar to a specialized North Carolina State Fair. Ironically the State Fair started on the same weekend. After much deliberation I decided on dark chocolate covered orange peels, a milk chocolate covered orange slice, dark chocolate covered pear, chocolate lavender bar, dark chocolate and coffee bar, chocolate with raspberries, and two types of chocolate truffles. The girls and I also picked up some truffles for Fabrizio (the café owner), and my Italian Professor. We thought that since they have been very kind, and patient with us, we could show our gratitude. The choices of chocolate were endless. There was a whole stand devoted solely to chocolate for dogs, and a “chocolate kebab stall”. The chocolate kebab stall sold sweet bread filled with chocolate shavings, similar to the meat kebab shavings here in Sansepolcro, topped with whipped cream. A chocolate kebab was a completely new idea to me, and struck me with the same interest as fried coke and cheeseburgers do at the State Fair. I thought it was inventive, but that I would only be able to eat a few bites. Chocolate was also found in every shape. There were giant chocolate bunnies, birds, soccer balls, iPods, keys, tool kits, and horseshoes. The festival had chocolate in every shape, size, flavor, and food group.
After some other sustenance, in the form of pizza, I was refreshed and ready for more chocolate. I found it extremely interesting to look where the chocolate made. My chocolate bars were from Torino. Besides the smaller chocolatiers, Lindt, Milka, and Bachi were all present. Milka chocolate even had a small Ferris wheel. Bachi chocolate is a chocolate made in Perugia, so it was fitting that Bachi would have a large tent. The contrast between the large corporations and the smaller chocolate tents was an interesting phenomenon that I enjoyed. Even though large, popular, brand name chocolate companies were present I did not see any booth being favored over any other by the excited crowds.

I feel lucky every day to be in Italy having amazing opportunities. Eurochocolate was a once in a lifetime opportunity that I could not pass up. Where else can I eat chocolate covered pear, a nutella crepe, churos with chocolate, and a lavender chocolate bar? My answer is simple, Eurochocolate! I am a Meredith Angel and thus I have both the gift of wings and chocolate. In this situation I was able to have my cake and eat it too, or should I say chocolate.

"Forget injuries, never forget Kindness" - Confucius

This past week was eventful. After a long weekend in Venice I was exhausted, and had to face an English paper, an eight page art history final, Italian test, and an Italian oral exam. To say the least I was both mentally and physically exhausted. By the time Friday arrived I was relieved, excited, and ready to kick up my heels and leave the palazzo for the first time in days! What looked like an ordinary weekend in Sansepolcro turned into a full blown experience of Italian hospitality and kindness. I have experienced many injuries in my lifetime, most of them due to my own stupidity, mainly not paying attention to what I am doing (walking down the stairs, or occasionally up them). These I do remember with a good chuckle, but they pale in comparison to my memories of kindness I have experienced in my life. This past weekend in Sansepolcro was my culminating experience of kindness in Italy so far, and I only hope that I can pay it forward!

Turning in my art history research paper on Friday afternoon was the relief I needed to end the week. I decided to walk to my art history professor’s house, Mr. and Mrs. Professor Bankers’ in order to deliver the final papers. We students fondly refer to them as “the Bankers”.
I know the inside of the walls and am familiar with a half circle outside the wall that extends from the Pam grocery store to the Buitoni casa to the Coop grocery store. I have explored the area outside the Porta Fiorentina but never outside Porta Romana. For the first time on Friday I walked out of Porta Romana and kept going. Friday was a beautiful blustery day with blue skies and small wisps of clouds peaking over the tree tops. The walk to the Banker’s house through the Italian campagna was extremely pleasant, and I had the company of three other girls. When we arrived at the Bankers’ adorable house they welcomed us with open arms. The landscape surrounding their house looked straight out of a movie and the clouds looks so perfect that they almost seemed fake. The terraced garden behind their house was like every other Italian garden I have seen, teeming with produce. The gardens here are nothing like my attempts at home that wilt and wither under the July sun. They were the perfect mixture of neatness but with nature’s touch. The tomato plants still had tomatoes ripening, eggplants were on their way to maturity, and the lavender had just finished flowering. I picked a few sprigs of lavender that now sit next to my bed and provide a lovely relaxing perfume as I fall asleep.

 
After a tour of their small orchard, garden, and herbs and an introduction to the neighboring donkey, they took us on a tour of their home. Since I cannot think of any way to describe the homey warm feeling that radiated from every timber, the best I can come up with is molto carino, very cute, (said with my best Italian accent of course). Their house was completely Italian from the large sink outside for washing clothes to the open windows that allowed a breeze to stream through. After the tour (mainly astonishment of all the amazing things Mrs. Professor Banker had made) everyone sat around the kitchen table where they offered us scrumptious treats. First was dough baked with sweet grapes, sugar, and rosemary on top, homemade fig newtons (from figs grown right outside no doubt) and walnuts just picked from the tree behind their house. I was able to ask the Bankers more about their life in Sansepolcro, their explorations in Italian Art History, and their numerous adventures. The warm welcome that I received (not surprising, they are wonderful people) and the delicious food was the perfect end to the week’s hard work. The walk back into Sansepolcro had me thinking about the wonderful afternoon I had talking to Mr. and Mrs. Banker, their hospitality, and how it was the perfect time of day to see Sansepolcro spread out veiled in a sunset of reds and oranges.

My favorite native Italian in Sansepolcro by far is Fabrizio, the owner of Gerasmo’s Café. I could go on and on about how much I love Fabrizio because he is honestly one of the nicest men I have ever met. From my very first day in Sansepolcro when he helped me pick out a juice, and proudly showed me his North Carolina License plate (I still need to ask him where he got it from), Fabrizio has been nothing less that kind and generous. One of my favorite things to do in Sansepolcro is grab a few things to read, and go down to the café for a coffee to soak up the beautiful afternoon sunshine. Fabrizio sometimes brings out a small plate of cookies and with a smile says “for you”. He told me one day that he puts hearts and smiles on top of the lattes and cappuccinos because he doesn’t want to be just another café; he wants me to remember him, and his coffee. The café is the perfect place to practice my Italian; Fabrizio has informed me that I am not allowed to speak in anything but Italian, but I still lapse into English sometimes (which I hope helps him learn some new English words).

On the way home from the local grocery story, The Coop, I passed a sign that was advertising for Calcio, or soccer in Italian. Since I had watched some of the World Cup games back home I was curious and excited to get into the frenzy that soccer is everywhere around the world. I thought I had missed the game but after reading the sign, which was all in Italian, I was able to interpret that it was on Sunday afternoon at three. At that time the location of the stadio was a mystery. After consulting Fabrizio (an expert on events in Sansepolcro) he informed me that he could drive me and my two friends, Emma and Katy, to the soccer game. So at two thirty on Sunday we waited outside Porta Fiorentina hoping we had communicated correctly with Fabrizio. Sure enough a few minutes later he pulled up with his wife and son. The Buitoni Stadio, is named after the family Buitoni which is well known in the world of pasta. When walking around the hills of Sansepolcro I have passed the bright yellow Buitoni Casa, and when it is dark the factory can be seen lit up in the distance. The stadio is located close to the Coop grocery store and consists of the field, concrete seating, and a small concessions stand. While waiting in line to purchase a ticket Fabrizio came over, and from what I vaguely understood during the rapid exchange between the man in the ticket booth, he was able for us to purchase the less expensive tickets. The game, Sansepolcro verses Scandici, was similar to the soccer matches I have witnessed, but the crowd was almost entirely male and everyone was watching the game with rapt attention. You could almost see the crowd’s eyeballs following the ball from one side of the field to the other. Every call by the referee was challenged by the crowd and the young man next to me, Federico from the bell tower, translated some of what the crowd was yelling. My favorite insult was calling the referee a “pumpkin head”. After winning two to one we were ushered back into Fabrizio’s car and driven back into the city, even after we offered to walk back (he insisted on driving).

This weekend was the type of relaxing fun I needed after a stressful week. The kindness of both the Bankers and Fabrizio will most likely stay with me for the rest of my life. Both have had such a positive influence on my time here in Sansepolcro teaching me art, helping me with my Italian, and welcoming me to the town. I know I am extremely lucky to be living in Italy, and am so grateful that I can meet such wonderful people. I wish there was more I could do to express my gratitude, but I hope that my simple grazie, grazie will do. I am still searching for the perfect way to repay the kindness forward, and hope that I will be able to find it.

“Two Cities, both alike in dignity”

Venice and Verona

I have been in Italy for exactly a month and three days, but it feels much shorter than that. I still have to look out on the Italian landscape whipping by the train and remind myself that I am actually in Italy. It scares me how quickly the time is passing. I want to savor every second, and make it last forever. Although this is much easier while sitting on a small fold down seat in the hallway of the train because I was kicked out of my seat twice! Who knew that my train ticket without a seat number would do that? If anything it has given me a spot in the sunlight, a place to write my journal (because it’s impossible to sleep), and an ever changing landscape to inspire a journal entry. When people say Italy is beautiful they mean it in the purest sense but fail to do it justice. Even through the slightly hazy glass of the train window the view continued to take my breath away. The picturesque cyprus trees typical of Italy stood out against the vivid blue sky that was just dotted with pale grey clouds. The train passed through fields of sunflowers that looked as if they were sleeping due to the drooping of their once mustard yellow heads. The scenery is impossible to describe; this is similar to how the word delicious completely fails to pinpoint the flavor, texture, and magical experience that eating is. This weekend trip to Venice and Verona was nothing short of magical, fun, exciting, and completely perfect in the most imperfect way.

The three day trip started in Verona and ended in Venice. I arrived in Verona a few hours late due to a mix up with “ovest”. I didn’t realize that binario two ovest was different from the plain binario two. After missing the first train from Bologna to Verona I tried to tell the information station attendant that the train never came, but he started to get angry after I asked him twice about trains to Verona (in my defense he kept saying “four and ten, four and ten” which at the time I had no idea what he was talking about, but later found out to mean literally the time 4:10). I left hoping that I would be able to figure it out on my own. As I walked down the platform I saw on the left side of the station the sign that said Piazza Ovest. It was the most glorious feeling finally knowing where I was supposed to be. I soon found out that ovest means west in Italian so this part of the station was literally the portion to the west. After a long laugh at the entire situation (it really was completely ridiculous), I could look at myself and proudly say I now know what ovest means.

Once I finally reached Verona (only about 4 hours late) my first impression was the roadways. Stepping out of the train station I was expecting to step into a scene straight out of Romeo and Juliet but instead was greeted by large roads and fast moving traffic. After some close calls in the crosswalks I was on my way to the famed Casa de Giulietta, or Juliet’s house. Like other women I wanted to see the balcony, and imagine Juliet calling out to her love Romeo. This past week I finished studying William Shakespeare’s play Romeo and Juliet for the second time. The last time was my freshman year in high school. I enjoyed taking a fresh and mature look at the play, and I am pleased to say I was able to see past the plot summary and really look at the exquisite language. After a few days of reading Romeo and Juliet curled under a blanket with a cup of tea I was completely enthralled with the play all over again and excited to see the fictional home of Juliet.

On the train ride I wrote my letter to Juliet and took the opportunity to put every ounce of mushy girly thought into one letter, because who knows when I will be able to do this again. Romeo and Juliet was one of the first plays written by Shakespeare and is thought to be influenced by the 1563 narrative poem by Arthur Brooke the Tragical History of Romeus and Juliet. One of Shakespeare’s most famous and well read works, Romeo and Juliet is one of my favorite works of literature, not just for the love story, but for his use of words and minor characters. Casa Guiletta was an anomaly for sure. I was expecting to see women eagerly writing to one of the most famous love story characters, and maybe a few significant others who were dragged in by force, but I was shocked by all the people there. The small courtyard was filled with men and women of all ages who crowded around the 20th century bronze statue of Juliet, eager to rub her left bosom for good luck in love. I think I saw more men than women boldly stand with the statue and brazenly place their hand on her chest eager to have their picture snapped. The process of leaving the letter (in which I poured out my heart and soul) was a hurried process involving a moment of panic on how to leave the letter on the wall. For some reason I expected a cork board of some kind, but since there was none the group had to improvise. Fortunately I saw another girl stick her letter to the wall with gum, so I overcame my feeling of defacing the home of Juliet and stuck my precious letter to the wall with a piece of spearmint gum. The whole experience was nothing like the movie letters to Juliet. Perhaps the time of day had something to do with it ( it was late evening and a little grey), or the fact that it was a complete tourist trap, but it was exhilarating to write my feelings down and have no idea where they would go, or who would read them.

After a mad dash across Verona to catch the train to Venice I finished that last leg of my journey. Waking up in Venice was spectacular. I had been forewarned that Venice could be melancholy with all the water, but I actually found the city fascinating. Venice, a city built completely on water, was a region in Roman times but the collapse of the Roman Empire reduced Venice to only the city. Venice was historically an independent city state, and is known for the canals, gondolas, carnivale, and massive churches. Venice stretches over multiple small islands, including the island of Murano which is famous for its blown glass. Due to its location on the Adriatic Sea Venice was a major trading city in the middle ages. Venice is well known for the Doge’s Palace, Basilica San Marco, the Guggenheim, and Venetian glass. The colors of the water and buildings were replicated in the venetian glass that could be seen in almost every shop window. The sun shone for the majority of the trip which made the water sparkle under the movement of the vaporetti. The first stop in Venice was the Basilica San Marco. The Byzantine Basilica was located right off the Grand Canal. The Basilica’s Byzantine qualities could be seen in the distinctive use of mosaic instead of painting and the excess use of gold for the background. When the sun shone in on the gold tile there was a supernatural and awe inspiring feeling that filled the Basilica. The basilica was built for Saint Mark the Evangelist who is said to have evangelized the people of Venice. His relics were brought from Alexandria to Venice in the year 828, making him especially important to the people of Venice. The emblem of a winged lion holding a sword and a book is the city’s representation of the patron saint. An extra four euro gave me the chance to climb something (an important experience in every Italian city) and access to the Basilica’s museum and the balcony outside. The view wasn’t nearly as impressive as the Duomo in Florence, but the breeze coming off the canal was completely refreshing. I was also able to view the mosaics up close and see the trillions and trillions of tiles that cover eight thousand square feet of the interior of the Basilica. The mosaics showed somewhat realistic scenes from Saint Mark’s life, stories from the bible, and the life of Christ. The use of green and red to accent the face was completely unexpected and something that I could only see when my nose was about to touch the tiles. The choir singing while I gazed over the edge of the basilica was the perfect finish to my tour.

The trip was far from perfect in the traditional sense. Trying to locate the vaporetti stop at night in order to take a ride after dinner, finding a tick in the hotel room, and running across the entire city of Verona to the train station in order not to miss the train were all imperfect , but how would I see perfection without imperfection. This weekend taught me that no matter how hard I try nothing will always go according to plan. The best way to deal with the changes is to enjoy every minute and know that it can still be a perfect weekend even with the flaws. Until later, ciao!

“The Wonder of a Walled City”

The longer I stay in Italy it seems the more walled cities I come across. Sansepolcro, my new home, was the first walled city that I visited and have now come to love. The idea of an ancient walled city is completely fascinating to me. If you look closely at the wall you can see the individual stone, mortar, and small plant life growing in the crack. What I always forget every time I walk through the Porta Fiorentina and into the “walled part of the city” is that the walls have endured world wars, trial and tribulation, and my favorite, the joys of the Balestra. When I look at the walls my new deepest desire is what I could hear if walls could talk. This weekend I visited and experienced two new walled cities, Anghiari and Urbino, furthering my wish to hear the stories the walls could tell.

Anghiari was the first walled town that I visited. Two euro and forty cents later I was on a twenty minute bus ride across the valley to the next closest city to Sansepolcro. The ride up to the city went past fields of golden sunflowers past their time, tobacco ready to be picked, and small houses sitting adjacent to majestic cyprus trees. The main road into the heart of the city was a steep incline. The walled city perched on top of a hill appears as if it has been dropped straight out of a scene of a movie. It still to this day reminds me of the city of Rohan in the movie Lord of the Rings. Every minute I expected to see men in medieval garb riding out on horseback on their way to battle, defending homes and honor alike.

Anghiari, most well known for the famous lost painting by Leonardo da Vinci in 1505. It was painted over later, and efforts to recover the great work of art have been in vain. The lost painting of the Battle of Anghiari depicts the battle fought in 1440 between the Visconti armies of Milan and the armies of Florence allied with the Pope. Even though the location of the painting is thought to be known, the work has yet to be found. Anghiari is a spectacular city. Small and mainly residential the inhabitants have a breathtaking view of the Upper Tiber Valley, and I am sure on a clear day Sansepolcro can be seen. Anghiari is located on the site of a Roman settlement. It was a prominent city in the 11th century due to its central location between central Italy and the Adriatic Sea. Anghiari was home to the Camaldolesi monks. The walls surround Anghiari are original to the twelfth and thirteenth century. I was able to climb below the original walls to see how they were constructed, and the craftsmanship was astounding. The idea of walls being over eight hundred years old and still solid as a rock is unheard of the United States where the oldest buildings are only a couple of hundred years old.

Walking around Anghiari felt like walking in a maze. Every narrow street would dead end on another and I ended up just winding around the city. In a way I enjoyed just admiring the gardens full of ripe tomatoes, dogs hanging out of windows waiting to be petted, and flowers that peaked from behind wooden gates. During the time I spent in Anghiari I think I saw more animals than I did people. The most spectacular part of the entire trip was weaving my way down to the edge of the wall. From that exact position I could see out onto the hazy valley and the mountains beyond. I like to think that my eyes could spot Sansepolcro in the haze, but honestly I might have needed binoculars.

The second walled city I was fortunate enough to visit was Urbino. The two hour bus ride up to Urbino was one hairpin turn after another climbing up into the mountains of Italy. At one moment when I looked out of the window the entire valley below was filled with billows of pure white fog. If Anghiari reminded me of Lord of the Rings, the valley of fog looked straight out of a Jurassic Park movie. It would not have even fazed me if a pterodactyl had swooped in front of the bus. Even though the driver could only see a few feet ahead he maneuvered every turn like a professional racecar driver. Urbino is most well known for the Ducal Palace, home to Federico da Montefeltro, Duke of Urbino, and the setting for the fictional Book of the Courtier. There I was able to see firsthand what life in medieval Urbino might have been like.

This picturesque medieval city is surrounded by again the most amazing walls. The idea of a walled city is unheard of in the United States, sure we have our civil war forts scattered along the east coast, but they are nothing compared to these impressive cities. The Ducal Palace was an illusion. What appeared to be a modest home was an entire city devoted to the nobility of Urbino. The palace at its height, could house five hundred nobles. Vast bedrooms, ballrooms, and countless guest rooms were filled with art, sculpture, and an insight into the court life. The staircases were made with small treads to accommodate the men on horseback, and virtually every room was able to be accessed by horseback (further emphasizing its vastness). After a tour of the palace and the enormous stables and quarters below I was convinced that I had only seen a portion of the Ducal Palace.
After my short but exciting stay in Urbino and my visit to Anghiari I have changed my desired super power from mind reading, to listening to walls. I know if I could listen hard enough they would tell me the most amazing stories, because let’s face it, walls can hear everything. Until later, Ciao!