Italy through the lense

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Naples (Napoli)

Along with the Sex, Law, and Politics course I mentioned in my last blog, I am also taking a course in Italian Life and Culture this summer. Last weeks Italian Life and Culture lecture focused on the mafia (mafiosi) and their influence over modern Italy. You cannot talk about the mafia without bringing up the Camorra that runs Naples. Likewise, you can't bring up Naples without mentioning the strong division between the North and the South in Italy. Due to some coincidental planning, 3 friends and I visited Naples last weekend and, with the information from last weeks lecture still fresh in our minds, were able to see first-hand what we had just discussed in class.

The Spanish Quarters

Naples has always been high on my list of Italian cities to visit- mainly because it is the birthplace of pizza, but also because it is known for being the epitome of stereotypical Italian culture. Right before going to Naples I was warned about several things: that it was dirty and there would be trash everywhere, that people from the South are less civilized than those from the North (this came straight from a Florentine's mouth), that kind locals will warn strangers to keep their eyes open by pulling down on their lower eyelids, that the mafia runs the city, and that the food is amazing. With the exception of the rumor that Southerners are less civilized, all of those statements are true.

It gets much worse than this, trust me.

Naples really is dirtier than Florence, and it is a glorified dump if you compare it to a pristine Northern city like Verona. Many of the buildings are warn and walls are decorated with graffiti. There are piles of trash along the streets and, as we learned in class, this is because the mafia runs the city and refuses to pay for proper waste management. While we were wandering up allies in the Spanish Quarters we stopped into a little shop. The older gentleman that worked there was so kind to us, much kinder than most people I have encountered in Florence, and I got so excited when he made the “keep your eyes wide open” gesture I had been warned about. He also warned us to protect our belongings as best we can and to always keep close to each other. For all of the warning we got, I must say that I never once felt threatened while wandering the city.

Napoli surprises you with hidden gems like this.

Even with the obvious trash issue, the city is still beautiful. Napoli is a city alive with colors and has some amazing architecture. One of my favorites was the 100-year-old Victorian shopping mall made of iron and glass called Galleria Umberto. Naples has so much to offer culturally, educationally, and historically but my favorite part about the city was the food! We ate Neapolitan pastries at an 1860s style cafe and ate some of the most amazing pizza at the pizzeria where the movie “Eat. Pray. Love.” was filmed. The pizzeria only offered two options of pizza, marinara or margherita. I had a margherita pizza and a Coke and was in taste bud heaven. 

I hardly ever drink soda, but there is something about a Coke and pizza that makes me feel right at home!

Antica Pizzeria da Michele has been around since late 1800s! Can you believe it?

Perugia Shock

When I think of Perugia, Italy 2 words come to mind: chocolate and murder. This small town south of Florence is known historically for it's amazing chocolate, but is known more recently as the home of the Amanda Knox case. One of the courses I am taking over the summer is on sex, law, and politics in Italy. One of our assigned readings is the book entitled Murder in Italy: The Shocking Slaying of a British Student, the Accused American Girl, and an International Scandal by Candace Dempsey. The book describes the murder of Meredith Kurcher and the investigation and trials that followed. The main character in the case is Amanda Knox, a girl who, in my opinion, was wrongly convicted of the murder. My peers and I have spent ample time in Italy discussing the case both in class and amongst ourselves, so much so that we have developed somewhat of a fascination with the whole situation and jumped at the opportunity to travel to Perugia with our professor and some of our classmates.

The beautiful countryside of Perugia.

Visiting the town felt more like visiting the set of one of my favorite movies. We saw the university where Amanda attended school, the water fountain were Rudy Guede (a man who, like Amanda and her then boyfriend Rafaele Sollecito, was also convicted of murdering Meredith. The difference between him and the couple is that his DNA is actually found all over the crime scene) allegedly washed his bloody hands after the murder, the basketball court where Amanda was accused of having a secret late-night rendezvous, and the "House of Horrors" where Amanda and Meredith lived together for two short months before Meredith was found dead in her bedroom.  

Perugia really is a beautiful little city, but I could not help but feel slightly irked while I was there. How could something so horrible happen in such a beautiful place? It was surreal seeing just how small their little world was- the walk from the house to the university was under 5 minutes.

The "House of Horrors"

I posted pictures from our trip shortly after returning home to Florence. The caption under the picture I took of the house of horrors read, "The House of Horrors where Meredith Kurcher was murdered." To which my aunt replied, "Oh my gosh, how creepy. I hope you said a prayer for her while you were so close to where she died." It wasn't until I read my aunts comment that the reality of the situation hit me. As horrible as it sounds, the case has become a source of intrigue for me, with Amanda Knox as the main character. The discussions I have with my peers revolve so much around "poor, innocent, wrongly accused Amanda" that I forget about the life that was taken in the first place. Thank you Aunt Mishel for the perspective, thank you Perugia for a great day to add to my many Italian adventures, and I pray for Meredith, her family, and all the people effected by her death.

22, It is so nice to meet you.

I am a 4th of July baby. As such, I have had the pleasure/obligation of sharing my birthday with all of America since the day I was born. For the most part I don't mind, I love fireworks and burgers just as much as the next American, but I was excited to celebrate my birthday a little differently this year. I'm happy to say that my 22nd birthday was filled with good times and good people, there were no fireworks but there was lots of fun! However, America's Independence Day did not go unrecognized here in Florence.
On July 3rd Florence held a 4th of July celebration in the Parco d'Arte a few miles outside the city center. My friends and I are always curious as to what Italians think of Americans so naturally we were excited for this "all American" event. The celebration was priceless. There were old fashion police cars, American flags, McDonald's chicken nuggets (not the same!) and cheeseburgers, sweet tea, hotdogs, ice cream (not gelato), beer, cheerleaders, a mechanical bull, country music, "real" life cowboys, and of course fireworks. It was such a great effort made by Florence to make all of it's many American residents feel at home. But while it might have had all the right elements for an all American 4th, it lacked the liveliness and personality we Americans bring on our nation's national holiday. Luckily, I was there with about 10 rowdy American college students- and we cleared that problem right up. We figured, if they already have us pegged as mechanical bull riding cowboys and girls, why not give them a little more fuel for the fire. We ate our weight in Micky D's, cheered on the cheerleaders as they performed their little routine, woohoo-ed for all the little bambinos during the mechanical bull riding contest, and sung along as an Italian women sang "The Star Spangled Banner". Being in an atmosphere where I could express my patriotism freely was a great feeling. But I could not help but take note that Italians really do think of McDonald's and cowboys when they think of American culture.

What's more American than a cowboy? Oh yeah, the good ol' thumbs up!

Pom poms and all!! Happy 4th!!

L'arte dell'improvvisazone

It happened. I had my first bad day (well, morning) in Florence. It was just one of those everything-is-going-wrong-i miss-my-Mom-so-much-I-want-to-cry kind of mornings. About time too, I was beginning to think this day would never come, and how realistic would that be? Florence is home now; I've settled in, memorized my favorite pathways, seen all of the top tourists sites, decided on a favorite gilato flavor (yogurt and Nutella is the best!!), and at home you have good days and bad days and thats just the way it goes...

Long story short my roommate and I signed up to go on a Best of Tuscany wine and cheese tasting tour today. We made it to the train station 10 minutes too late and the group was no where to be found. Trying very hard to stay positive through the situation, we decided to get breakfast at The Diner, which serves classic American dishes like pancakes and burgers (whenever something goes wrong it's comforting to cling to something familiar). The Diner supposedly opens at 9 every morning but, in true Italian fashion, when we got there the opener said to try back in an hour because the cooks were still sleeping. In Florence, hours of operation are more like approximate suggestions. At that point I was pretty disappointing in the direction the day had gone, and all before 9:30 in the morning!!

In yet another attempt to stay positive, my roommate Astrid and I grabbed coffee and croissants and sat at the Loggia dei Lanzi in the Piazza della Signoria, and that is where our luck began to change. It began with the cutest little old Italian couple you could ever meet. The pair was so sweet and witty and still so visibly in love. The couple lifted our spirits and gave us hope in more than just the rest of our day. The adorable couple led to great discussions of love, family, the past, the unforeseen future, and the decision to attend mass at the Duomo. During mass, which was centered around Christ as the bread of life, it hit me- I am exactly where I am supposed to be. It's easy to get caught up in the fast-paced lifestyle of the city and the so-much-to-see-so-little-time mentality that comes with traveling abroad. With so many things biding for my attention it's easy to get distracted. Everything we have comes from Him, and every now and then I need to be reminded of that.

"Io sono il pane vivo, discenso dal cielo. Se uno mangia di questo pane vivra in eterna" -John 6:51

Today was a good practice in an ancient Florentine pastime, L'arte dell'improvvisazone (the art of improvisation).  Going with the flow, making lemonade, practicing patience- all acts Florentines are especially skilled in. Luckily, this city has so much to offer that when plans go awry there is always another train you can catch, another cafe to eat at, another museum to see. Instead of touring the country side I spent the day bonding with my roommate, dwelling in the presence of the Lord, staring at Botticelli's Birth of Venus, and wandering around this beautiful, spontaneous city.

A city of paradox and contradiction

In the short time I have been in Italy I have witnessed several political protests. All are peaceful and most are actually quite playful. In Italy it seems as though protests are quite common. Unlike in the States, counter protests are not widely practiced. In the U.S., if there is a pro-choice protest on one side of the street, you will most likely find a group of pro-lifers on the other side of the street. This is not the case in Italy, at least not that I have seen. It seems as though the right to protest is more respected, and even encouraged, here in Italy.

Just yesterday I was people-watching on the Ponte Vecchio when I suddenly found myself in the middle of a flash mob, Florentines love their flash mobs- apparently  they are very trendy at the moment. At the sound of a whistle, blown by a skinny older gentleman with long grey hair dressed in neon pink pants and a skin-tight black tank top (stylin!), about thirty high schoolers all laid down at the same time and held up signs. From what I gathered they were preaching peace and nonconformity. It was interesting to see young teens gathered together on a Sunday for such a matter. It is my observation that youth are more politically conscious than in the United States. Which makes sense in a country where governments collapsing out of nowhere is a common occurrence. One must always be on guard. After lying on the ground for a few minutes chanting the crowd rose and began to dance in a circle as someone played "Don't worry, be happy." I believe the chant began "Il pueblo murido..." and then continued. Something about a Dead village? Possibly about Florence losing the essence of a small town and selling out to be more "Italian" for all of the tourists? Maybe, but I'll never know. Whatever the reason, the location choice was notably peculiar as the Ponte Vecchio is a known tourist spot and the point of the protest was ultimately lost in translation. 

A much more structured form of protest occurred while I was in Rome. We happened to have traveled to the Eternal City on the weekend of the Euro Pride Parade, Europe's largest gay pride event. Streets were shut down and filled to the brim with party floats and party people. Of course Gaga was there in all of her glory. From the outside looking in, I could not help but notice the irony of the whole situation. Drag queens dressed in Egyptian costumes dancing to "Born this Way" just 20ft from the already controversial Pope John Paul II sculpture next to Romes Termini train station. Churches, crosses, and Christian sculptors provide the backdrop to people holding anti-Pope signs and penis balloons. Italy is truly a land of "paradox and contradiction."

We've been sons of confort, but we will not be parents of conformity.

Flash mob protest on the Ponte Vecchio

Gay pride parade- Rome

Roman Holiday

Confession: I have been avoiding the blogosphere because I am simply so overwhelmed with thoughts and ideas and memories worth sharing that the task of actually putting them into words has become a very daunting thought. But if I put this off any longer I might just explode, so here goes nothing....
Lets start with Rome, the eternal city, simple enough right? Wrong! I am beyond words when it comes to describing how I felt in this city, but I promise I will give it a good try.

Megan and I at the Trevi Fountain

Jordi and I in front of the Colosseum

Dinner at Dolce Vita

Meeting up with my beautiful friend! We've been with each other in 2 foreign countries. Where to next Megs?

Can you see him???

Our journey into the city actually began in a different country, Vatican City. We toured the Vatican in a big tourist group complete with a tour guide and headsets. Yes, the same kind of group I try desperately to avoid in Florence but secretly eavesdrop on to get bits of historical information. But, since I don't live in Rome, I figured who cares about walking around with a big "I'm not from her!" stamp on my forehead? It was actually quite fun playing the shameless tourist role for a bit, and very informative as well. The Sistine Chapel was an experience all its own. Inside the Chapel there is no talking and photography is prohibited. I'm not quite sure what the motives are behind these rules; is it out of respect for God? to protect the art? to ensure you get the full spiritual experience? Whatever the reason, silence in a room packed with hundreds of people surrounded by some of the most famous art in the world, all of which centers on God was...was...awesome, for lack of a better word. St. Peter's Basilica was grand and the gorgeous day was the perfect backdrop when looking back at the Vatican from the Piazza San Pietro.
The highlight of my first day in Rome was spending a few precious hours with my friend Megan from back home. She had been in Rome with family for about seven days and was very excited to be with me while I saw some of Rome's biggest attractions for the first time. Together we crossed the Tyber river and passed by the Pantheon on our way to our first destination, the Piazza Navona. We ate brucheta, carbonara (a pasta dish made with bacon and eggs that Rome is known for-delicious!) and drank red wine at an outdoor restaurant called Dolce Vita. Basically, we were in a typical "Roman Holiday"-like movie scene atmosphere for about two hours. We talked about Italy, home, Jesus, and everything in between. It was so comforting to see a familiar face. And what did we do next you ask? Oh we just got some gilato and strolled over to the Trevi Fountain where we ate, talked, sat in awe, and, of course, through a coin in. Traditionally, you are supposed to throw in 3 coins, one to ensure a return to Rome, a second to find your true love, and a third for marriage. I threw in one. I don't want to be greedy, I just want to come back some day....
My first day in Rome is vivid; clear as day. The next two, however, are a bit blurry. The Colosseum, the Spanish Steps, Roman ruins, The Ecstasy of St. Theresa,  mass outside the Vatican on Sunday morning, listening to the Pope address and bless the people, riding with my friends around the most beautiful park, drinking as much of Rome's refreshing water as possible. It was bliss. I really, really hope that coin was lucky.