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2004-04-08 Gli Italiani ‘The Italians’

The more I’m exposed to the Italian people, the more I want to become them. Men and women, slim and portly, young and old, all carry themselves in a way that makes them so appealing. Somehow, though, I can’t distill what it IS that makes someone Italian…

It is not what they wear, but it IS how they dress. Every outfit somehow looks fantastic, whether it is a business suit with a wide-knotted tie, or a denim skirt and a silk scarf, or the T-shirt and Jeans look that I used to think was perfected in the US.

It is not what they eat, but how they prepare and present it. Lunch generally consists of grabbing a panino from a bar and sitting outside for the better part of an hour, watching natives and tourists float by. Dinner consumes as much time as we do food. We joke with Carlo, our waiter at the Abruzzi, as he brings course after course of meals whose names we recall from the Chef Boyardee cans that line the shelves of most college students’ pantries back in the States. “But Carlo, this can’t be ravioli… it’s not thick with prcessed meat, nor does it have a metallic taste from sitting in a can for months.” Besides, it tastes too good to pass as ravioli. “Come si chiame, vero?” (what is it called, really) Wine glasses clink as we all get to know each other over bottles of red and white, decanters of mouth-puckering vinegar and extra virgin olive oil, and slices of warm, hard-crusted bread.

And it is not what they have, but how they use it. One thing Americans complain about not having is time. Italians apparently are without this problem. If something can’t happen, so be it; far be it from me to have to rush someone, and I hope they afford me the same courtesy. It is not time that is the enemy of Italy, but space. As with most of Europe, personal, private space is a luxury afforded to few. While extravagant piazzas too numerous to count can be found everywhere around the city, the home of the modern Italian might appear claustrophobic to an American. Full bathrooms occupy about nine square feet. Magnificent Palazzos increase the density of the urban space until your ears pop. These giant downtown palaces force the streets to narrow until they’re little more than alleys, and still the pocket-sized Smart Cars and motorinis find room to park on the sidewalk. Those who say Roman life is relaxing have never tried to cross the street – I have seen saner driving in Mad Max movies!

So then perhaps the question I should ask is not what makes an Italian, but how does one earn that title?

The Colosseum

2004-04-05 La Mattina Dopo (The Morning After)

Yesterday I came to realize how much I don’t know about Rome. Our first day, six of us – Sarah Pontius, Bill Fedun, Tara Finke, Travis Eby, my roommate Tim Scovic, and I – immersed ourselves in the city. That is to say, we got ourselves lost.

What began as a mission to find the Vatican led us from the Piazza Garibaldi (named for the general who helped King Vittorio Emmanuelle unify Italy) through Vatican City, then across the Tiber River into the heart of Rome.

We wandered around, utilizing state-of-the-art, by-the-seat-of-our-pants navigation technology. This city is so bizarre and disorienting – streets curve, dead end, and altogether disappear in an entirely random fashion. You turn a corner and find yourself in the middle of a piazza you know you should recognize from Art History.

We were pretty deep into the city when I suggested we turn back to meet Liz and company at 19:00. Tim said, “Let’s just see what’s around the next corner.” We pushed our way through the throngs of people, keeping our hands over our wallets, and as we turned the corner, there it was.

I remembered very well the piazza that held the Pantheon from my 8th grade trip – I still remember taking the group picture at the base of the obelisk. I also remember being a boy without any architectural knowledge, falling to my knees upon seeing the Pantheon’s oculus.

I was determined my roommate have a similar experience. As we passed through the colonade and approached the giant doors, I suppressed his “Wow”s and “Oh my God”s and bade him look down. We walked into the building and I said “Allora” (now), and we gasped at the oculus, the coffers, the marble, the statues, at the most perfect and awe-inspiring space either of us will probably ever see.

2004-04-04 Il sole sopra Frància (Sunrise over France)

On the first international flight that granted me more than an hour of sleep, my neighbor on the plane woke me up. At first I was a little upset, but then I saw her finger pointing to the window.

As we flew over France, the sun rose, which is an amazing sight to begin with, but being in a plane, the sun rose over the clouds. I took about thirteen shots of these. Sadly, few came out very well pre-Photoshop. This image was probably the best. It has not been Photoshopped at all, aside from adding the border and saving it to the web. Most of the others have quite a bit of grain (though in the non-film world I suppose I should say pixelation). Dithering this image for the web worsens the effect.

I would like to convert this image into a wallpaper; I think that rotated counterclockwise 90º it could make a good abstract background.

2004-04-03 Buon Viaggio (Good Trip)

The crew, or most of us, anyhow, await the group flight. From left to right: Janelle Kelpe, Sarah Pontius, Abby Jasper, Chris Davis, Matt Cox, Sarah Krivanka, Tara Finke, Kevin Paxton, Matt Cornell, and Dominic Sansalone.

Villa Eva, Capri