Funny story

Finally a picture of me in Italy! This is the view from the wall of San Gimigcano, one of the first towns we visited.

So, I’m in Roma, safe and sound ya’ll. I left FLorence this morning at eleven o’clock, after making one last stop at an intact 17th century apothecary, or Farmecia, as they call it there. I just imagine swishing my way in– behind my husband of course–with large skirts and an order of leeches to heal my aliments.  My favorite part, aside from the fantastic word work designed to hyper organic all the cloves and gild flakes and bits, was a severly stereotyped frescoe of an Ethiope woman on the domed ceiling. Post-colonialism 1, Florence 0.

The train ride was fine except for the Scottish family who wanted to chat quite badly, but who’s accents were so thick that I had to ask them to repeat most things once or twice.  After a long and frustrating fight with Rome, I found my hostel, and –here’s the funny story– I decided to kick around here relaxing for an hour or so before heading out into the heat again…

I think I told a couple of you that I was seriously excited about this women’s only hostel. It had fabulous ratings and a good locale, and was likely to show me a safe and informed time in rome. Even though I had stayed in a women’s only DORM in Florence, I was still even more happy about the fact that I could toddle out to breakfast without being totally dressed at the women’s only hostel. So when I first walked into the building, I though it was great. There’s a courtyard with a bar, which is nice and cool  in the heat of rome. There are prints of women’s art and women subjects all over the walls, and even when I went down to the courtyard later, there seemed to even be only women in the bar. Nice and safe and uncreepy if I want a glass of the famous Italian Vino with out the famous italian flirts in the evening. I took my shower, looked around, and suddenly started to notice that not only do all these cool chicks seem to be in pairs, most of them also have really short hair too, and some of them even seem to have… well anyway you get the picture. Something between the vibe, and the hair, and the fact that one chick scowled at me when I smiled at her friend, made me realize that only me, and some other asian non-english speaking girls appear–at least according to some pretty lame stereotypes and some very strong and reliable vibes–to be straightish… I googled it, and I’m in a women’s only, lesbian owned, run and promoted hostel. HA HA HA. I would be so ignorant. Anyway, once I realized this, alot more made sense. It’s not that I mind at all. I feel just as safe, and happy. It’s just that acccording to the internet, I’m supposed to be gay to be here. No straight people, unless they’re here with gay friends are really allowed. Whatever, I guess Marc’ll have to shave his beard when we skype. More on this later.

So after I had my queer epiphany, I checked  my facebook, and saw a message from Paige and CAroline. Lucky for me, they’d seen my message in time, and we were able to meet and have dinner over in their area. It was wonderful to reconnect, and plan the next two days. ** we’re going to the Vatican City tomorrow at seven am which is why this entry is so breif and dry. ** Also, they found my charger!!!!!!! Or at least the cleaning people did. And actually, the battery is still alive(many thanks for the tireless camera Pamera). Tomorrow I’ll have an LCD again. No more cutting off heads!

Also, I think I should tell you, again very briefly, that Siena was fantastic. I looked up St. Catherine before I went–merci Maman–and had also read about it before I came, so I was really happy to go. After almost missing the bus, we were taken to two other small Chianti Tuscan towns before going to Siena for lunch and a two hour walking tour. I think the gothic Duomo there is now my favourite church in Europe. Wow. The views were absolutely spectacular, and I now know why Siena is everyone’s pet italian town. After that part of the  tour we went deep into the wine country to visit a ‘farm’/vineyard, where an italian vet has made his passions his livelihood, making olive oil, truffle oil, balsamico, wine, growing chick peas and making his own salami. All of his products were complete organic and beautiful, and trying them in his cave  was probably the best sampling I could ever ask for. It was such an unexpected and delightful surprise. He made two completely unique wines worth mentioning. Both began when he bought the mangled property, formerly owned by the church. In the corner of the vineyard, he found about five, unhappy vines that he didn’t recognize. Finding out that they are a very old tuscan grape, that is no longer grown there, he now has split them into four hundred plants, and produces a wonderful white wine made entirely from them. this is the only one of its kind. Also, when he moved in, digging through the piles of bits and scraps he found some rather tired letters, and discovered two from 150 yrs ago between monks. One of them had a recipe for wine in it. So he now produces this wine in entirely the same way. It’s startlingly different from anything else that is produced, particularily in Italy. He attributes this to the spices and much higher alcohol content, which of course would have made the wine last longer, and travel better. He swears if you forgot abou tit in your kitchen for eight monthes in the sun, it would still taste the same spicy sweet perfect.

I can’t stress how fantastic it was, and I’m more than willing to join the rest of you in going back here. Yes please. Anna, both you and Jonathan would have loved these sweet whties, and even the non-red drinkers in the group had to confess that they loved his 100% tuscan chiantis.

I would love to tell you more about the wild running chickens, the balsamico that I didn’t know could taste like taht–I’m bringing some home– the rolling hills and the ripening olives, but I am on a schedule, so I must move on.

When I got back the girls at the hostel adn I settled in with some nutella and cookies, and had a ball laughing, and pushing back the dawn where we would all part ways. I never expected to have such a silly fun time with these ladies, but I’m so very glad that I did.  Please ask me about these few days, because there’s sooo much I’ve left out for time, that I would loooove to share.

Just a little peek at the apothecary.

Oh these Winnipeg girls couldn't help but take a picture of me on the way to the music festival. They couldn't stand the fact that I had no paporazzi to capture me 'for my boyfriend.'

This is the square of San Gimigcano. All you could smell was parmigano.

Another dream making view of tuscany.

This is the wine tasting plate that we were given: tough crusted Italian bread soaked in his olive oil, a piece of strong sheep's cheese, with a spoonful of his hazelnut honey--made on sight, a piece of salami he makes from the onsite pigs, a small pile of the fresh chickpeas from their crop, and a crustini soaked in tartuffo oil--white truffle oil.

The interior of the Duomo, in Siena.

Firenze

I did this at on Via Nazionale, right after I got out of the train station. I thought it would be a good resolution to the whole taking my own picture issue, and would satisfy some of you whining for more Lara pics.

View from the Vecchio.

This is the astonishing mosaic on the baptizery ceiling. I'm sorry about the quality, but my neck already hurt and the gold was hard to photograph.

Rape of the Women of Sabine, from my view on the step/seats. There a round Florentine man whistling and reading his book beside me as I sat, and it felt very peaceful.

So after getting in yesterday, I was hot, tired a little sad: I’m pretty sure I left my camera battery charger in Vienna. However, don’t fear, cross your fingers. Thus far, it’s faired unbelievably well for a little point and shoot (Thanks Pamera). I’ve turned off the LCD display and it’s still showing three bars, after three days. Still, I’m not going to be snap crazy, and I”ll likely leave most of the paparazzi-ing to the girls in Rome.

When I first made my way out into the Firenzi streets, within five minutes I ran into a wonderful Papeterie, which I hadn’t expected to visit until Iwent to rome. Although it had been advertized for that city, Il Papiro was orginially started here on Via Cavoure. I wandered in and immediately met the owner, who had started this shop as a tiny studio and boutique in the seventies. Not only did Giovanni– a sixty something hipster with a diamond earring– tell me the history of his now franchized business, he also showed me how to marble paper, let me try it, and then blowdried and rolled up my master piece for me to take home with me. I spent as much as one night in my hostel there, but found some wonderful things, and made an old hipster believe that a passion for his art still lives…. and that he could still sell a card.  I will never forget this little experience. Iwould normally ignore the offers in a scenario like this, be modest and run out the store for fear of human interaction, but I’m really glad I didn’t this time. I let him brag about and tutor me in his art, and I got to take home a fine piece of Florentine history that I was part of. Loser, I know.

Any way, after finding my feet, I marched out into the Firenzia streets, padding down to the Duomo, and Batizery. The awe-inspiring facade of the Duomo– a 15th century cathedral that took one hundred and fifty years to complete– quickly reversed my crumbling resolve to explore. It is absolutely magnificent; there’s no way to describe it but breathtaking, as you round the corner and see it’s fantastic doors and towers.

It is decorated entirely in emerald green and salmon pinkish marble, both subdued slightly by years of water and dust, and of course Florence’s hot sun. There are number alcoves in the structure, which house statues and reliefs of Saints and the Holy family. Looking at this structure, it sin’t hard to imagine how Romans and Italians could have transitioned from the Pagan Panteon to the Holy Trinity: they didn’t. They just adopted another pious pantheon of saint-idols. They’re everywhere. However, inside the Duomo is comparatively simple. It’s massive size makes the approximately twelve mosaics or visual works seem sparsely scattered, and the four statues of saints are far between. The real embellishment is in the stained glass, that again, more subtily than in other known cathedrals, cast small squares and triangles of colored light across the simply patterned floor tiles. Also, the ceiling of the actual dome itself is a fantastic frescoe. It depicts the judgement day: people falling into the depths of hell by the hands of skeletal guards, with the serene virgin and Jesus watching from above, as well as what looks like eight or so men, whom I didn’t identify. Although the dome is high, the frescoe has been painted with the optical illusion of being higher than it is.

Just outside, directly in front of the church is the St. Johns Batizery. There’s a debate about the actual age of this building, seeing as there are traces of Christian use of the area for baptizing as far back as nine hundred. Some believe that it is actually a pagan space that has been converted, but the octagonal shape of the building speaks to very biblical reference to the number eight…. so they tell me….  i can testify to the fact that the mosaics adorning the ceiling of the eight sided dome are captivating. They depict, on about five different levels, scenes from genesis, jesus’ life, St, John’s life, and scenes from the new testament. The entire section in front fo the altar depicts a gigantic image of Jesus–one that actually doesn’t offend me!– and the again, the last judgement. Because you have to pay four euro to enter the baptizery, it’s far less populated, and significantly quieter. I spent about a half an hour cranking my neck backwards to gaze at these 12th century masterworks.

Still dazzled, I wandered down to the Piazza Signoria to see a whole handful of wonderful statues. In a sheltered stone veranda, lined with high deep steps for the thoughtful gazer, stands the rape of the women of Sabine, a sculpture that I’ve been dying to see since I was around twelve. The first time I saw it, was in some buget pile art book of nudes.  I stared at the detail shot of the Trojans hand on the Sabine Women’s thigh and bottom for about ten minutes. I couldn’t believe that this was a statue in stone; it was so incredibly life like. I thought it was dancers who’d been powdered and made up to look like stone, and mixed in with the statues as a suplimentary comparison. Apparently it’s real. Later I studied this three person composition, because of it’s importance in art  history. Recently in my Aeneid class, I learned the mythology behind the work. So, long story short, this work has always been in the back of my mind. It was a pleasure to wander into this  square, and climb up onto these steps and watch a pidgeon land on the womans sky scraping hand. I really wish I’d done a water color of this place.

This piazza also has the famous fontana Nettune, our fountain of neptune. What’s remarkable about this work is the artful, stylized bodies of the ‘four rivers’ personified and placed around neptune. They almost look like they”vebeen drawn into the air, with lines and forms that contradict nature, but please the eye with movement and embellishment. Behind the fountain is one of two reproductions of Michael Angelo’s David, which was surprisingly ignored by all the tourists who would later go to pay 13 euro to see the ‘real’ thing. Sometimes I wonder if they even know why they’re paying to see this stuff….I’ll explain this bitterness.

I finally wandered back to the slightly out of the way hostel around dinner time, hoping to do some laundry and get some food at a Supermercanto near by. When I got here though, there were two girls from Winnipeg in the room! Strange. I ended up bumming some tide from one of them, and then we all went to get some eats at the mercanto. There were also two UK chicks and a New Orleanian in the room, and when the other Canucks and I got back and settled in, i noticed a note from the American Girl on my bed. Apparently there’s a free music festival in Florence this month! So I pulled on my tie-tye, tried to cover up my travelling dirt with some sink showering, and we headed out on the town, reinforced by our numbers.

The festival was fabulous, and not far from the hostel. There was a free headliner show by a band called Statuto. We had to stiffle our laughter as we watched this combination between the Mighty Mighty Bosstones (sp?) and Sublime rock suits and sunglasses and skank moves in Italian…. Too funny. I just asked Matthea the desk guy about this band and he has no clue who they are. Apparently they’ve been around for 27 yrs. I guess they weren’t a rip off band… It was fun watching the hipsters gather to flaunt their wayfarers and fedoras. Although they were hopelessly opposed to actual dancing, I consider my first day in Florence, and my first night out in Italy, a fabulous success.

This morning I woke up at the ungodly hour of six thirty to skype with the dutiful Captain Marc-André. I’m glad I woke up before the alarm, cause the girl talking in her sleep was begining to get interesting. Although I couldn’t really get a visual it was rad to talk to MAN, and he seemed pleased to see me wearing my Montreal Canadiens shirt, with pride. The peruvian night desk guy kept circling around behind me peering at my baby computer that talked with a french accent. I had to get up only an hour after we finished in order to have the complimentary breakfast here at Ostello Gallo D’oro. It sure beats the melba toast and jam in Venice. I’m glad I got up, because Winnipeg Katlyn and Natalie and I decided to take the day trip advertised in the common room to Sienna tomorrow!!!!!! I don’t know if any of you know this, but after I started getting ready for this trip, when everything was booked, I read about Sienna and suddenly jus twnated to go there. I didn’t realise it was close enough for a day trip. So, for 55 euro, I’ll be in Sienna all day sunday.

After a shower with real conditioner, I stepped out into the baking sun to get in line at the Uffizi gallery. Turns out this line was two hours long… I thank my lucky stars that I was standing behind a UK school teacher travelling by herself for the first time as well. We had a good chat and it made the time go by a load faster.

Once inside, thanks to Anna’s wonderful Florence book, I already had a good idea of what I wanted to see. I had no idea of the secrets the Uffizi held.  As i told some of you, I was on an Annunciation tour, seeing works on this subject by Angelico, BotticelliX2, Di Vinci, Martino. Also I was set to see a 14th century panel depicting St. Francis Receiving the Stigmata, Sanzio’s Madonna of the Golden Finch, Botticelli’s Primavera, Birth of Venus, Madonna the Magnificant, Portrait of a young man…I’m now realizing that it’s pointless to list them all. So I’ll just focus on a few. I was really struck by Di Vinci’s Adoration of the Magi, and unfinished entirely earth toned piece that I looked over in the art books. Some how I didn’t get into this work until I saw it. The movement astounded me. Mary’s frame in the centre is rounded and heavily stylized,  but so perfectly captures hte kinetic energy of her bent pose, bent toward the Christ Child. Likewise, the figures gathered around the madonna are look as though at any moment they might creep forward. The urge to draw nearer to the messiah asthough he is a magnet, and they are held back only by fear– at any moment thye may creep forward. They are such a hodgepodge mix too, with temple market imagery gestured all around the back round. The Child, unlike his drawn surroundings is so light, looking casually at a sparkling urn in a magi’s hand. Wow.

The annunication by it is almost rich and heavy. The surroundings look so permanent. Again, there is a bedroom in hte background–as I saw in the Accademia in Venice, in Bellini’s work– which somehow implies the sexuality of it all– the connotations of conception, and this exchange.  The brightness of Mary and the Angel is communicated in the lacy light strokes and highlights, uniformly accentuating movement in a scarf or hair. A contrast, the wings of the angel are like sculptures in stone, settled yet effortlessly reaching to the heavens. Finally–and then I’ll let whomever of you lasted this long off the hook– the little table that stands between them seems so clearly to be an excercise in perspective for Di Vinci, with it’s carvings and details, all perfectly angled and weighted. 

I was going to tell you my thoughts on Botticelli, but I’ll  pity you, spare you, and tell the last of you remaining about hte rest of the day. After about two hours in the Uffizi, I walked over to the Vecchio bridge–a universal symbol of florence– which like the Rialto houses a number of vendors and shops. Too cool. It was tightly packed with tourists and seemed to offer nothing, but a spectacular view of the city and river, and a load of gold jewelery for sale. 

On the other side, I went to the Palazzo Pitti: the home fo the Di Medici nobles for centuries. The funny thing about this palace is that it was built originally by another banking family, competing against the Medici’s in a contest of opulence nad wealth. They went bankrupt building the place and the Medici’s finally bought it, finished it,a nd moved into it. Ouch. Now it houses the reali appartmenti, displaying the intact apartments that remain the golden days, and a gargantuan collection of florentine masterpieces by the likes of Di Vinci, Botticelli, Lippo and Carvaggio. It also has a wonder garden, which my 13 euro ticket couldn’t get me into. I saw a bit over the walls, and decided not to spend an extra 10 to see it.

Tired, hot and happy, I got some ingredients and wandered back to my hostel. Now I’m eating fresh basil mozzerella bocconci and baby tomatos with the best extra virgin oil oil that I could find in a tiny bottle. It’s not bad. The New Orleanian chatted me up for about an hour and half about how hard it is to handle Bush questions when abroad, adn then I think I’ll do some laundry and hit the sack early for tomorrow’s sake.

It’s been a slice.

Made it to Florence

Now I’m going out to explore it! Ciao!