Things that don't happen at home

I've had some really cool experiences here in Rome, and I keep thinking to myself . . . "now that doesn't happen at home."

. . . I stumbled upon a Baroque music concert in Sant'Augostino Church. It was amazing. I was sitting in an eight-hundred-year-old church, listening to great music, and looking at a Raphael fresco and a Caravaggio painting. Definitely not anything that's ever happened during one of my rambles along, say, Abbott Road.

(By the way, I mention that I went to a "Baroque" music concert, but . . . I'm not yet cultured enough to really know what Baroque music is. Hopefully by the end of my European tenure, I will be. I'm pretty sure I could recognize Baroque architecture, but . . . Baroque music??? I mean, I could tell it wasn't Marilyn Manson, and I'm confident I could distinguish it from the the Neapolitan folk music, but not a whole lot more than that . . . This deficit could, of course, also have something to do with my musical handicap. Rather than waiting for me to blossom in cultural and musical awareness . . . Are there any music scholars out out there? Maybe you can tell us about Baroque music? Just use the comments section . . . )

. . . Last Saturday, I was walking around "my neighborhood," and there were all these guys in red. All cardinals, just wandering around. It seemed like there was a "cardinal convention" of some kind, and they just got let out for lunch. Here a cardinal, there a cardinal, everywhere a cardinal, and they all seemed to be more or less independently searching for somewhere to grab a good slice of pizza. Turns out it was a big day, "promotion day," so to speak: The pope had just named a bunch of cardinals!

. . . And speaking of the pope, I went to see him on Wednesday during his public "audience," and I'm going to see him again tomorrow to Saint Peter's for the first Mass of Advent. I was in Saint Peter's today, and they were setting up "for the pope" - it seemed like a big deal.

. . . And I've met loads of people doing language exchanges. Two of them are, in fact, engineers . . . trying to get out of engineering. Oh - Wait - this was a list of things that don't happen at home . . . ,)

My New Apartment

You guys aren't going to believe the apartment I found! It's two steps from the Vatican ... without exaggerating, it's maybe a seven-minute walk to Piazza San Pietro. Also - and this importantissimo - I found a spectacular gelateria nearby, hidden alongside the back walls of the Vatican. This is my new routine (which I have faithfully carried ... um, every night since moving into the new apartment): Buy gelato. Walk to St. Peter's. Sit in the piazza, marvelling at St Peter's, listening to the fountains and the chiming of the clock, and - eating my fantastic gelato. I've also determined that this is the cheapest way to eat in Rome. It's a rather expensive city, but if I eat bread and fruit all day, I figure I can get a significant portio of my daily energy needs directly via gelato.

So I've been pretty successful with the various missions I came to Rome with. I made friends with the woman in the post office, and she helped me out, and I got all my paperwork in for the permesso di soggiorno - the legal document that had me sweating. It's the permit that allows me to stay in Italy, and it's complicated because it's one of those things that - basically, if you follow everything to the letter - you need the permesso to get the university acceptance and the university acceptance to get the permesso. So I'm glad to have that taken care of, or at least step one.

I found this awesome apartment.

I found a language exchange partner, and got in touch with a few Italians that I know. Lela and I got together on Saturday, and I'm hoping to get together with the others before heading to Bologna.

I bought some Italian books and I've been studying hard. Tonight I went to a Primo Levi reading at some cultural center. I think it's going pretty well.

And I've been touristing like a champ! It's a good thing I trained for Rome by doing the Camino de Santiago, because I think I walk about 20 kilometers a day. Really. And it's the best. I could walk around Rome forever.

Everything's not perfect. There was a mean guy at the market this morning who almost had a heart attack because I wanted to know the price of the lettuce, a creepy Italian guy asked for the time and then invited me to bed, and there are two pit bulls (or something like that) with fangs in the apartment where I'm staying. But - I'm trying to learn from my "host culture" a bit and chill.

So that's that. Rome is spectacular. I think I could live here. I might even be able to go to a cubicle if I could walk through the old Roman streets to get there. Hmmm. Maybe. Still not sure about that one. I'll have to think about that.

Roman Holiday

Hello! Very sorry for the delay in entries, but my internet time has been pretty focused: I've had a lot to do! The quick version is this ...
I went to the language school in France ...
The French train workers went on strike ...
It was super-challenging, but I managed to get to Annecy, via train (one of the few that was working), buses, and hitchiking. Annecy was beautiful, between the mountains and a beautiful lake. Beautiful ... but cold.
I met a guy on a bus who was from Geneva. He invited me to stay with him in Geneva for a few days, so I did. Geneva was great! But again ... cold. I am a coldweather refugee.
... So, I bought a ticket to Rome. Here I am! I am thrilled to be here. I ditched the idea of a language school, because i feel like i can do a better job studying on my own. BUt I figured > why not do it in Rome!? So here I am ... I'm searching for a room, and I think I found one. I'll have to let you know. It's a few blocks from the Vatican.
More updates to come . . . but the bottom line is: I'm in Rome, and I'm really happy to be here!

French School Dropout

Well, not yet. But I came close today. Here's the story.

I'm here in Antibes, studying with the "CIA Antibes" language school. Shall I call this the Internet Court of Justice? It's officially NOT recommended!

I opted for the "budget" residence - I figured, i'm pretty "rustic," pretty simple, right? And I figured i could put up with a handful of party boys and girls if i needed to. (after all - Greg, you've given me at least a little training in that, right?)

Right. But what i didn't bargain for was the absolute filth of this place. Picture the physical setting when i arrived...

-Bathroom: Toilet seat broken. Sink non-functional. No toilet paper ("until at least tomorrow").
-Kitchen: Dirty dishes, with all their leftover crap, piled above faucet level in the sink. Crumbs and sauce and god knows what else all over the place. Mold growing in the "common food."
-Bedroom: More food, naturally, occupying (definitely "beyond the height of the cubicle", too) every inch of desk space.

Add to the visual:

The stench! You can imagine, i'm sure, with the help of the visual aids.

The chatter of - could the company possibly be worse? - English prep school girls. Try to imagine a cross of English snobbery, disgusting privelege, and Valley Girl sensibility. (And a curious mix of all those accents and intonations, too.) Actual snippets of the conversation polluting the aural environment of the residence : (in English, of course; the Valley-Brits don't seem especially motivated to learn French, considering that they're in the same level I'm in, and I've studied for literally a train ride, and they've studied in France for three months)

- "Daddy promised to buy me a piglet for Christmas. I'm going to call it "Pony". Then I'll have a horse named "Piglet" and a pig named "Pony"; huh!"

- "And then i have to fly to Argentina. In economy; in economy! It's going to be horrible; i've never flown in economy before;"

So ... i've been spending a lot of time not there. Which isn't a problem at all: I go to the beach!

How I Became an Expert in the French Telecommunications Industry

Some of you have heard my stories about the - ah - "directness" - of Italian men (and increasing proportionally with age. which i guess makes sense - i suppose they are running out of time.) In any case, as though the French knew these stories and needed to defend their "romantic" reputqtion in the face of such strong international competition, on my very first day, two old french dudes tried out their moves.

The first dude classifies definitely as a "dude", at least in his mind; About 45, long blond hair in a ponytail, denim shorts. Approaches me on the beach and initiates conversation; entirely undeterred by my caveman french; finally asks if he might "accompany" me here on the beach. My response? Well .... uh, uh ... not to be rude, but, well of course you can sit anywhere you want, but i have to read, uh .... all this. "All this," however, constituted the contractual offerings for a host of cell phone carriers here in France.

And ... that's how i became an expert in the french telecom industry.

The second "dude" might have been a bit beyond official the "dude" stage, but he wins points for trying: Age, 79.

Barcelona

My short stay in Barcelona has been super! Among the highlights . . .

- I´m staying in the apartment of Xavi, a friend I met on the Camino de Santiago. It´s in the neighborhood called Barceloneta, and I can´t be more than fifty paces from the beach. I went for a run on the beach this morning - November 1st! - and saw all the surfers and beach bums out there. (I am, or would like to be, one of them!) What hospitality, huh?

- Yesterday was the Castanyada. I went to the home of Luis, another friend I met on the Camino, and his mother prepared the three key ingredients of the Feast of the Chestnut: Roasted chestnuts, roasted sweet potatoes, and a Catalan Castanyada dessert called panellets - made with a dough of potatoes, sweet potatoes, sugar, egg, and pine nuts. MMMMMM. Good thing I´m a food scholar, so I can say that with authority. In fact, I´m going to say it again: MMMMMMMmmmMMM!

- And I went to Montserrat. Another important pilgrimage center, though I was a bit monastery-d out, so - Catholic guilt begone - I skipped seeing the Black Virgin, which, I suppose, is the entire purpose of going to Montserrat. Well, I didn´t skip it, really; I just kind of ran out of time. (Partial dispensation? Reduction in pennance?) Instead - apparently I´m not quite tired out enough - I went for an awesome hike to the top of the Montserrat peaks. Google Montserrat to check out some pictures - it´s pretty spectacular, with a monastery "nestled" (obligatory travel writing word, I believe) in the pointy needle-rocks of the Monserrat (serrated mountain, maybe?) range.

I leave tomorrow for France. Au revoir!