26 July 2012

la mia Firenze


Six weeks of getting to know each other, and we've found love. She's taken me down her narrow streets. She's welcomed me to her prized churches. She's shared her warm sunshine. She's even revealed some of her flaws.

Firenze has freely shared her secrets with me. My careful heart, however, has been holding back. But today, all unwillingness was surrendered. I spilled il mio cuore to this dear city.

What began as reluctance against the seemingly obliged love has since morphed into my own genuine admiration.

Yesterday, as a class field trip, we journeyed to the Piazza Michelangelo area, to visit the beautiful Chiesa San Miniato. The trek consists of a lovely hill climb, leading to the remarkable vista.

So impressionable was this beautiful place that when I awoke this morning, I had it on my heart to return to it. So after class I made my way. This time, however, I was in no rush. Stops and detours welcomed.

This unanimous love for Firenze, as I mentioned earlier, wasn't one that was assumed by me. She had to woo me. And that she has.

During the uphill journey, I decided to stop on a side path that had previously captured my eye. This is the path to one of Firenze's hidden treasures... Giardino delle Rose.

I love venturing alone. It is then that I feel most the sweet company of God's beautiful creation.

This humble garden overlooks the postcard picturesque skyline. The dark green vines and trees of the garden confront the orange and creams of the city structures, and all this is embraced by the blue summer sky. The shot that stole my heart... and my breath (or maybe that was the steep climb up?).

Now, I know an encounter like this not one that is sought, rather it's one that reveals to you what you want before you even know to look for it. This flirtatious city is like someone you come to love, she shows you exactly what you need before you can define it.

I had been waiting for the proper invitation to declare my love for dear Firenze, and she finally shared it. The lively features of this town accompanied by such a compassionately understanding city view have officially succeeded in winning my heart.

18 July 2012

Madonna di Carmelo- Pescasseroli





During my visit to Pescasseroli (Ann'a hometown in Abruzzo), the town celebrated the feast of La Madonna di Carmelo, July 16. The whole town, about 2000 people, gathered to honor Our Lady. La festa began Sunday night with a multi-part procession from one church to the other and Mass outside. Then, there was a beautiful fireworks show.

The next day, the feast day, people gathered again for Mass and for a procession through the town. The Confraternity, dressed in their Carmelite attire, accompanied by a band and the people of Pescasseroli walked through the small town singing beautiful Marian prayers.

I shared with my cousins how special it was for me to partake in this celebration. I tried to explain the specialty of an entire town stopping their daily routine to honor Our Lady. The beautiful souls of these small towns keep our Church alive.

As I walked along the faithful Pescasserolians, I meditated upon the beauty of such a way of life.

la bellezza del cibo

One of the most important components of life here in Italia is, of course, food. I've had the privilege of growing up with authentic southern Italian food. Nonetheless, I'm still amazed by the beautiful piatti I've enjoyed here. I'm trying my best to record some of my favorites, but I've failed in trying to capture a photo of each dish.

This is one of the prettiest (and most delicious) dishes I've had. This beautiful plate of raw fish was the final course of a wonderful pranzo in a small paese (country town) in Abbruzzo. The fish was accompanied by delicious olio, prezzemolo (parsley), zucchini, pomodori, and pepperoni (or as we call it in Cersosimo, puppacce (SP?)). On a warm day, this fish is quite refreshing!

Baccala is a fish eaten by most regions of Italy. It's prepared in different ways, depending on the region's style of cuisine.

Pellegrinaggio


There's so much to say about Roma! First of all, I must note my appreciation for the perspective I've obtained here in being able to compare cities, as a resident of one.

Firenze is full of life! There's a continuous flow of people, the Italians, the tourists, tutti. Buses pass carrying the people of the well-settled town to and fro. After only a few weeks, I've become well acquainted with the narrow roads of cara Firenze. My understanding of this place of residence, however, has been deepened by my meeting with Roma.

La capitale hit me like a ton of tufo (Roman rock). It gave me a sensation that no novice American city could ever give.

Amongst the modern businesses, designer fashion, bus stops, and gelaterie stand the remaining structures of the great empire. Millions of people go about their routines, generation after generation, era after era. And still, these structures stand, witnesses to passing centuries. It's incredible. The size and stature of these fantastic artifacts support the reality of their antiquity.

As I stood in front of these Roman spectacles, I felt this deep desire to obtain any scrap of empathetic connection with those that walked the streets during the time of the great empire. The Romans, and those who dared to enter Rome's well protected walls, utilized these grand structures. Now there's certainly tremendous pride in the Roman successes, but I wonder if the common folk of the empire recognized the astonishing feat of such development. I try to picture the every day routine that accompanied these constructions.

To describe these structures as full of life seems almost insufficient. But I dare not call them gods.
 
Now there are obviously thousands of pages of history passed in the ignorantly general statements I've given. Nonetheless, this idea of creating for gods and later for the Almighty God, leads me to the heart of this architectural commentary. La Basilica di San Pietro.

One of the best parts about this place of devotion is that it exists in the presence of the surrounding modern vita Romana.

Mario, Anna, Francesco (my wonderful cugini) and I stepped up out of the metro station and began our journey to the holy place. We passed shops and people, more shops and more people until the columns were in sight. Madonna! Molte farfalle in my stomach.

Grazie to the wise planning of the Calabreses, we stood in line for only a short while. Then we were there, at the welcoming doors. I stepped in with my head tilted, as to not miss an inch. Immediately to my right was the warm embrace of Our Blessed Mother holding our Savior. La Pietà.

Eventually we made our way to the catacombs below, and there I saw the lovely image of Our beautiful Lady of Guadalupe - my first meeting with her in Italy. La Madonna is everywhere, but Our Lady of Guadalupe is not common to Italia. To see her there was so special, a moment of excitement and great peace.


21 June 2012

gli odori di Italia

My strongest and most provoking sense is my sense of smell. I hold a firm belief in the science that connects the chemical level of scents to memory and emotion. I find myself pointing out scents that no one around me seems to regard. And yes, I believe my nose will lead me to the balanced chemical construction that is my husband. Call me crazy.

This powerful "tool" has been one of the most enriching companions of my time here in Italia. I've identified a few particular scents that seem to come out all over town. And, more excitingly, I've recognized some scents that remind me of home and more specifically some scents from mia Nanna's house.

Saying some of these aloud seems like I'm spilling secrets, as many will call them peculiar. Nonetheless, these are the experiences I consider noteworthy.

So, some of the Nanna-esque scents include the trash here at mia casa. Now I know this sounds odd, as trash has a universally bad odor. However, Nanna's doesn't, and, in fact, it has a special smell that resembles that of the trash here at my homestay. It helps too that it's placed under the sink in a little round bin, just like Nanna's.

On to the other smells... now these aren't necessarily familiar but I have identified with them and find them enjoyable. These are simple and omnipresent smells like the mix of coffee and smoke with a small hint of cologne. Speaking of human smells... I believe there are two perfumes/colognes that are worn by the men and women di Firenze. I haven't identified the particular names, but that is a mission I wish to go on. Every couple that walks down the street carries this wonderfully paired aroma. It's beautiful. The man smells masculine, fresh and designer-like, while the woman complements the scent with a sweet smell that also has a kick of spiciness. This seems to characterize the Italian duo wonderfully.

Anyway, I'm sure to point out these lingering experiences with those around me, regardless of their interest. And I'm certain I will be continuing this topic in my commentary.

Basilica di Santo Spirito

Va bene... because I've finally received Jesus! This lovely church just happens to be in the same piazza as my school. So I can stop and say hi to Jesus anytime and attend daily Mass in the evening. This church is one of great tourism, but there are also locals who attend Mass.
It was beautiful to participate in the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass in Italian!

I want to work on memorizing prayers in Italian, so I don't have to attempt to fake them in Spanish.

There's a very special beauty in Italian prayer, especially from a little ol' Italian priest.

I feel like my residence here has officially begun now that I've found my place of peace, in front of the tabernacle.

P.S. Don't be fooled by the simple exterior. This 15th c. chiesa showcases works by Boticelli and many other big names.

20 June 2012

Vita Semplice

I asked for full immersion, and I got it! Simple living, whether I like it or not.

Three planes, three countries, and many passport flashes later, I finally stepped foot into the beloved country I so longed to unite with.

I got off the little plane that took me from the beautiful lands of España to the green, white and red boot.

I entered the quaint airport, joyfully anticipating the welcome from a dear friend, an Italian native. Of course, the duration of travel endeavors had to continue with baggage claim. So, there I was, scanning the conveyor belt, only to find that the fine design of Mr. Tommy  Hilfiger was no where to be found. A few other frantic flyers and I headed to the other flight baggage claims (only three in total). There I watched each individual happily snatch their bag and head out to their awaiting destination. The luggage dwindled down to only a couple pieces until eventually, the belt came to a halt. Senza bagagli più... No more luggage.

At this point the exhaustion of travel along with the peace of Christ were my saving grace. I headed to the lost baggage claim window (so clearly this is a common occurrence?), where the Italian lady at the desk was being yelled at by an American man. I had no desire to contribute to this lady's frustration or to anyone's, for that matter. So I waited in line, unnerved by the fact that I had no way to contact poor Claudio and I couldn't leave the desk to find him and explain the delay. While anticipating the prognosis in line, I offered up quite a few Hail Marys, both for peace and for that darn luggage (I'd like to add that for an inanimate object, that luggage has been subject of a great amount of prayer). I finally greeted Mr. Italian man at the desk. His nonchalant attitude toward what I would consider a crisis tempted a switch to anger. However, I would not allow such attitudes to invade my dear trip. So I gave him all the necessary information and headed out the doors. I searched around for dear Claudio, but his sweet Italian "Ciao" was nowhere to be found. What to do?

I saw a phone, so I exchanged my 5 euro bill for some coins and shoved those bad-boys into the machine. Never have I been so calmed by the mention of my name as I did from the other end of that phone. Claudio apologized for having to leave and additionally on behalf of Italia for such a wretched welcome. He directed me to take a taxi to the stazione (train station) and meet him at the entrance, so that I did. A 15 euro ride later I was finally pacified by the presence of Claudio. He made up for any flaws in introduction that Italia may have made. He treated me to a delicious ice cream. The cool treat was a great remedy to the record heat 36 degrees C (97 F). We walked around a bit and then I headed on the train (with an already purchased ticket- grazie a Claudio) for Firenze. I boarded the plane with a sandwich and water (grazie mille a Claudio) and was on my way.
I got off into the new city that is to be my home. Upon exiting the station, I spotted a TIM store, where I purchased my sim card for an Italian number. Check.
Then I walked a few blocks and grabbed a taxi to Piazza Santo Spirito 10, pronto! I quickly picked up my information (and very limited luggage) and was sent again by taxi to my new home and family.

These past couple of days have been magnificent! Details on some of those things later...

I'm hoping to receive my luggage in the next few days, as it is supposedly "delivered". Just to give you an idea of a sharp contrast between USA and Italy- communication is not so key here in Italia. I found out my luggage should soon be arriving via online status and phone recording. No personal phone calls, niente.
I'm so grateful to my wonderful sister-in-law Jacq, who suggested I bring some toiletries and an extra pair of mutande (undies). So for now, I'm free from the burden of fashion. My outfits have consisted of the repeated use of leggings and a cardigan and the generous lending of blouses from my housemate Olivia and my homestay mama. I limited my additional purchases to a linen skirt, solo dieci euros, a toothbrush and deodorant.
The inner minimalist-aspiring part of me is loving the simplicity of such living, but the fashion-and- aroma-conscious part is merely scraping by. Va bene.
I'll enjoy the simplicity while it lasts and hopefully that will spill into the basic living of the rest of the summer. And, God-willing, my luggage will arrive soon (and actually be my luggage)!

Molte avventure...