Carnevale is something that American festival-goers should attend at some point in their lives. It’s the equivalent of Fat Tuesday, but so much more interesting. It’s like a Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade plus Halloween and incredibly family-oriented. Families dress in similar costumes, toddlers spill sticky fistfuls of confetti from high-up balconies onto the easy-going Carnevale attendees. Everyone’s laid back. There’s no rush to go anywhere. No rush to the beer garden, no rush back to the parking lot to beat traffic on the way home, mostly because there was no beer garden and no parking lot; everyone takes the train to Viareggio, a small Italian seaside town, a two-hour train ride North of Florence.
The main event, perhaps the only event, at Carnevale is the parade. Enormous, Macy’s Parade-esque floats amble down the road with dancers atop and around the floats, hanging on and jumping off. While the Macy’s Parade features Dora the Explorer and Snoopy, Viareggio’s floats, constructed by the community, I assume, are much more creative. One float showed Hillary pulling Bill by the ear, another showed a pig scarfing down sausage strings. The Pope on stilts walked the street in front of a float depicting the Crusades. Harry Potter theme music followed a float on which a castle was built with young wizards and witches popping out of shutters and spraying the audience with silly string and shaving cream. An older, very jovial, man caught on to the mini-sorcerers’ antics and was prepared when the shutters banged open. He was armed with silly string galore. A battle ensued and I have to say, the older man won. He was pretty quick for an old guy.
We could hear the parade as soon as we exited the train station. Viareggio is awesome for many reasons, but I really loved that the town had set up an outdoor speaker system, and Italian pop music vibrated between the streets, fighting for air space with the numerous marching bands in the parade. We wanted to see more of the parade, so we slipped in and out and wove around the big throng of people all headed to the main thoroughfare where the actual carnival would take place.
One of my roommates told me that Viareggians store up their paper and then shred it to made confetti and streamers. This is their recycling, as the paper is collected after the festival and taken to a recycling plant. As we ran towards the event space, confetti fell in bundles on our heads and into our backpacks. It looked like a rainbow was cleaning out its closet.
As we ran, we saw men dressed as ballerinas, women dressed as blue gorillas, Italian babies suited up as giraffes. Wenches, pirates, Elizabethan characters, devils, fairies, lions—we saw it all. It was fantastic. To join in the festivities, we each bought a mask. As we walked the opposite direction that parade was headed, to ensure we saw it all, we were sprayed with silly string and shaving cream, and continually doused with confetti. We each got hit pretty hard a few times by people who thought we looked too clean. That was another great thing about the day—there wasn’t a single person I saw who got bent out of shape when they were attacked with harmless party favors. When the initial shock of finding shaving cream in their ear wore off, a smile always followed close behind.
After a while, I gave up trying to brush off the shaming cream (shaving cream here is really wet, not thick like it is in the states; the consistency is that of a stagnant bubble bath) and pull out the silly string from my hair. We figured that maybe we wouldn’t get as much attention if we had kilos of string and shaving cream adorning ourselves and our packs.
This was not true. J
After two hours of enjoying the parade, taking tons of pictures of the festivities and ourselves (check out the Carnivale pictures on facebook), we headed back to the train station. It was getting later, the Italian babies were conked out in their strollers, we were getting tired. After a full day of trains, costumes, marching bands and carnival floats, we were tired and hungry and ready to be home.
Unfortunately, we didn’t check our return train ticket home. We boarded our train and had to split up because the train was so crowded. Getting on the train was almost a full-blown battle. It was crazy, people pushing shoving through a tiny door. After about an hour of passing stops and none of them looking familiar, I checked my ticket. Our destination was indeed Firenze (Florence), but we needed to transfer at the Pisa station. We found each other, got off, and then waited for the next train. We hopped on as soon as it pulled up, and we didn’t think much of the fact that it left 10 minutes early. Yeah—it was the wrong train. At this point, I was tired, scared, and struggling with some emotions that had surfaced at Carnevale, and I started to cry. We got off, my roommates were amazing and made me laugh, and we found the right train. After another hour and a half, we got home. We stepped in the door of our apartment at midnight. We’d been trying to get home for five hours.
So, lessons learned: 1) Carnevale is awesome. 2) Always check your train ticket to see if you have to transfer trains. 3) Never underestimate the goodness in people. Like your roommates.
Carnevale in Viareggio is a good example for Americans. It’s possible to be laid-back, have fun sober, spend time being goofy with your family and not worry about a thing. Well, except maybe getting home. J But nonetheless, festivals and parades don’t have to be filled with stress, stern expressions and an agenda. It’s ok to walk around, observe, take an embarrassing amount of photos, and enjoy the day for what it is.
About Me
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
Pisa and Its Leaning Thing(s)
Pisa and I are having some issues. On the one hand, I like Pisa. I like that it has a tower that leans. I like that Pisa has a baptistry in which Gregorian singing takes place every half hour. But Pisa and I, we have some issues we need to work out.
We took the train over, my very first train ride. It was sunny when we left, but I should know from living in Colorado for a few years now that the weather always changes. The closer we got to Pisa, the darker it got. We got off the train and about fifteen minutes into our trek to the tower, the skys split a seam and it poured. Maggie and I braved the weather until we thoroughly soaked (we were sans umbrella and rain jacket), and then we stepped into a church. Maggie is Catholic and loves visiting all the churches she can find.
The church was small, but beautiful. We wandered around the small space for a while and there were Biblical sculptures I didn't recognize, lots of marble and amazing windows. Once we got our fill on wandering, we read the information posted at the front of the room. Turns out the church we were in was the church that held the thorn from Christ's crown before it was taken to a museum.
I don't care what you believe, you have to admit that that's incredible. Just like the Museo di Scienzia holds Galileo's finger here. It's still an artifcact. I just couldn't get over that. I still can't.
We finally made it to the piazza that houses the tower, the baptistry and the cathedral. The cemetery and the museum are also in the surrounding area. Maggie and I, upon my insistence, went into the baptistry. We wound our way up the stairs and froze as we looked at the stained glass and down below where people milled about, waiting for something. From the barred windows at the top of the baptistry you can see the front of the cathedral and on the other side you can see the cemetery and the tower. Once you get past the countless feathers and piles of bird shit on the windows, it's very beautiful.
We went back downstairs and finally the gaurds sang. It's an amazing sound. It's like a symphony of one voice. An orchestra of one person. I still can't wrap my head around it. The gaurd sang and the echo felt like it entered my chest and hummed for the rest of the day. The acoustics of the baptistry make the echo/chord building possible. I'd love to learn more about it, but I wasn't willing to pay 1 Euro to listen to the kiosk inside. Not ok . :)
We went outside when the echo had finally died away and found our other roommates. We then spent about an hour taking the classic Pisa picture. At first, I wasn't going to do it. But then I wondered why I wasn't going to do it. Is it cliche? Yes. So what? It's my time over here and I can do what I want. So I took it. At the very least, I have a picture holding up the Leaning Tower of Pisa for my mom and dad. Then we got creative..Maggie and I have pictures of us kicking over the Tower, a picture of Maggie licking the Tower, and then a picture of me kissing the tower. It's classis, believe me. We spent the rest of the time wandering around Pisa, grabbing food, etc. I went off by myself and window shopped. It was nice to be by myself and not crying for once. I always underestimate how much I appreciate my alone time.
We made it home later that night without a hitch.
It amazes me that the Leaning Tower of Pisa was completed even though they knew it was leaning by the completion of the third story. That's incredible. Even more amazing is that tourists/travellers can pay 15 Euro to climb the Tower, which increases the lean. I think I read that it still continues to lean 25 mm every year. But maybe I just made that up. Stranger things have happened. Like the completion of a leaning tower. Crazy.
We took the train over, my very first train ride. It was sunny when we left, but I should know from living in Colorado for a few years now that the weather always changes. The closer we got to Pisa, the darker it got. We got off the train and about fifteen minutes into our trek to the tower, the skys split a seam and it poured. Maggie and I braved the weather until we thoroughly soaked (we were sans umbrella and rain jacket), and then we stepped into a church. Maggie is Catholic and loves visiting all the churches she can find.
The church was small, but beautiful. We wandered around the small space for a while and there were Biblical sculptures I didn't recognize, lots of marble and amazing windows. Once we got our fill on wandering, we read the information posted at the front of the room. Turns out the church we were in was the church that held the thorn from Christ's crown before it was taken to a museum.
I don't care what you believe, you have to admit that that's incredible. Just like the Museo di Scienzia holds Galileo's finger here. It's still an artifcact. I just couldn't get over that. I still can't.
We finally made it to the piazza that houses the tower, the baptistry and the cathedral. The cemetery and the museum are also in the surrounding area. Maggie and I, upon my insistence, went into the baptistry. We wound our way up the stairs and froze as we looked at the stained glass and down below where people milled about, waiting for something. From the barred windows at the top of the baptistry you can see the front of the cathedral and on the other side you can see the cemetery and the tower. Once you get past the countless feathers and piles of bird shit on the windows, it's very beautiful.
We went back downstairs and finally the gaurds sang. It's an amazing sound. It's like a symphony of one voice. An orchestra of one person. I still can't wrap my head around it. The gaurd sang and the echo felt like it entered my chest and hummed for the rest of the day. The acoustics of the baptistry make the echo/chord building possible. I'd love to learn more about it, but I wasn't willing to pay 1 Euro to listen to the kiosk inside. Not ok . :)
We went outside when the echo had finally died away and found our other roommates. We then spent about an hour taking the classic Pisa picture. At first, I wasn't going to do it. But then I wondered why I wasn't going to do it. Is it cliche? Yes. So what? It's my time over here and I can do what I want. So I took it. At the very least, I have a picture holding up the Leaning Tower of Pisa for my mom and dad. Then we got creative..Maggie and I have pictures of us kicking over the Tower, a picture of Maggie licking the Tower, and then a picture of me kissing the tower. It's classis, believe me. We spent the rest of the time wandering around Pisa, grabbing food, etc. I went off by myself and window shopped. It was nice to be by myself and not crying for once. I always underestimate how much I appreciate my alone time.
We made it home later that night without a hitch.
It amazes me that the Leaning Tower of Pisa was completed even though they knew it was leaning by the completion of the third story. That's incredible. Even more amazing is that tourists/travellers can pay 15 Euro to climb the Tower, which increases the lean. I think I read that it still continues to lean 25 mm every year. But maybe I just made that up. Stranger things have happened. Like the completion of a leaning tower. Crazy.
Monday, February 4, 2008
The Flight, the Apartment, and the Roommates
26 hours of traveling makes no one feel good. Seattle to Denver was a bit uncomfortable, and I almost had a breakdown during our hour and a half layover. I was glad to be out there. It was strange flying into DIA, not being greeted by Stephen, and jetting off to CSU. I miss it. We started the long haul from Denver, and I was completely surprised by the vast amounts of alcohol they offered us during the flight. Bailey's, cognac, wine (white and red), beer, Bloody Marys- the flight attendants didn't know what to do with me. "Bailey's or cognac?" they asked. "Neither, thank you." I got many blank smiles, as odd as that sounds. I did have the seat next to me empty, so I curled up and did my best to sleep. The luxury of two seats was paired with the amazing location of the seats- right across the slamming door of the restrooms. I did my best to sleep, but mostly to no avail.
We landed in Frankfurt and then waited for 5 hours. That felt like the longest leg or the trip. We finally boarded our tiny plane to Florence and landed a mere hour and a half later. After a few hours of retrieving luggage, checking in with the program, snagging apartment keys and a cell phone, we were dropped off at our respective apartments. And now time for a funny story.
At first, I thought I'd rough it and attempt the four flights of stairs without using the impossibly tiny elevator. I didn't make it. Once I got to the fourth floor, I was dismayed to find a different name on the name plate than the one listed on my address form. It was late and I didn't want to attempt to key-in to some stranger's apartment. Down the elevator I went with my luggage, after juggling the three doors (yes, three), to the elevator. The mail boxes listed my apartment on the sixth floor, so back up I went, three doors slamming and cathing on my luggage. I exited and found the apartment. Lo and behold, the damn door wouldn't open. After a solid five minute struggle, I pressed the buzzer. Twice. I heard whispering behind the door. No one opened. Finally, after a timid, "Who is it?" and a not-so-timid-and-more-exasperated "Amanda, your rommate," the door opened. And in I went.
My roommates include Katie, Jessie, Meredith, Maggie, and Ember. Katie goes to Ol' Miss and is an art history major. Jessie and Meredith both go to Texas Tech, are human development majors and have the exact same schedule here in Florence. Maggie is an art therapy major and attends a small private school in Ohio. Ember has yet to arrive. The things we know of her so far: this will be her third time studying abroad. She was supposed to arrive on Saturday, but "had a breakdown," so she's to arrive Wednesday. We also know she requested a single room. She didn't get it. She's rooming with me. :) We'll see what happens. Nonetheless, I hope she's doing alright.
My room is fine. It's larger than I thought it'd be. I wake up to a view of Florence and the Tuscan hills behind it. Can't complain. The apartment is beautiful, but quirky still. Marble floors, three balconies, funny Italian bathrooms that include bidets that no one uses, and 12-foot ceilings. The kitchen is small and old, but you can't beat the view from any of the windows in our apartment. We can literally see the top of the duomo, the bell towers, the hills, and most other buildings in Florence.
I couldn't be happier with our apartment. It does have it's pitfalls, but the beauty and the sheer unexpected space of it overcomes any of its shortcomings. The roommates have also showed their quirks, and I'm sure I've showed mine, so this semester should be an interesting one. But at the very least, we have a bitchin' apartment.
We landed in Frankfurt and then waited for 5 hours. That felt like the longest leg or the trip. We finally boarded our tiny plane to Florence and landed a mere hour and a half later. After a few hours of retrieving luggage, checking in with the program, snagging apartment keys and a cell phone, we were dropped off at our respective apartments. And now time for a funny story.
At first, I thought I'd rough it and attempt the four flights of stairs without using the impossibly tiny elevator. I didn't make it. Once I got to the fourth floor, I was dismayed to find a different name on the name plate than the one listed on my address form. It was late and I didn't want to attempt to key-in to some stranger's apartment. Down the elevator I went with my luggage, after juggling the three doors (yes, three), to the elevator. The mail boxes listed my apartment on the sixth floor, so back up I went, three doors slamming and cathing on my luggage. I exited and found the apartment. Lo and behold, the damn door wouldn't open. After a solid five minute struggle, I pressed the buzzer. Twice. I heard whispering behind the door. No one opened. Finally, after a timid, "Who is it?" and a not-so-timid-and-more-exasperated "Amanda, your rommate," the door opened. And in I went.
My roommates include Katie, Jessie, Meredith, Maggie, and Ember. Katie goes to Ol' Miss and is an art history major. Jessie and Meredith both go to Texas Tech, are human development majors and have the exact same schedule here in Florence. Maggie is an art therapy major and attends a small private school in Ohio. Ember has yet to arrive. The things we know of her so far: this will be her third time studying abroad. She was supposed to arrive on Saturday, but "had a breakdown," so she's to arrive Wednesday. We also know she requested a single room. She didn't get it. She's rooming with me. :) We'll see what happens. Nonetheless, I hope she's doing alright.
My room is fine. It's larger than I thought it'd be. I wake up to a view of Florence and the Tuscan hills behind it. Can't complain. The apartment is beautiful, but quirky still. Marble floors, three balconies, funny Italian bathrooms that include bidets that no one uses, and 12-foot ceilings. The kitchen is small and old, but you can't beat the view from any of the windows in our apartment. We can literally see the top of the duomo, the bell towers, the hills, and most other buildings in Florence.
I couldn't be happier with our apartment. It does have it's pitfalls, but the beauty and the sheer unexpected space of it overcomes any of its shortcomings. The roommates have also showed their quirks, and I'm sure I've showed mine, so this semester should be an interesting one. But at the very least, we have a bitchin' apartment.
Why Florence
"Why Florence?" people ask. Really? I don't really know. I wans planning on studying abroad spring semester last year, but I couldn't decide where I wanted to go and didn't want to choose flippantly. Turns out that flippantly isn't all bad. I visited Florence when I was 12 and I thought it was great. The leather school, the red-tiled rooftops- beautiful. When I was sifting through the dozens of pamphlets from CSU's study abroad fair, it was rather difficult to find a program in a non-English speaking country that offered courses in creative writing, my major. Florence University of the Arts (FUA) didn't have a vast selection, but there were a few classes to choose from. I tossed Ireland and Prague out the window and decided Florence would be my next home for four months.
I left January 28th, arrived the 29th. My academic program ends May 16th, and I hope to travel for a few weeks after. I have a flight reservation for June 6th, but new plans may have me staying until the 12th- my aunt may come and tour Paris with me for a week, during which I'll celebrate my 21st birthday. In Paris. With some family, probably the only person that'll come visit me throughout this entire shebang. My parents, a boyfriend, and friends have all talked about coming and visiting, but if one person is to come through on it, it's my aunt. But I'll still keep my fingers crossed.
Hopefully I'll be able to keep this thing updated with stories and tales of travels and with pictures. We'll see how that goes. In any case, thanks for caring about me enough and what I'm up to in Europe to take the time to investigate all the things that I'll be doing. Like writing redundant sentences.
On another note- those of you reading this probably know that I'm going through a rough patch, and I just wanted to say thank you so much for being amazing friends and people. You guys are the people that ground me and pick me up when I need it or slap me in the face when I need it. I will never be able to thank you enough and I feel so blessed.
Well, with that, read on!
I left January 28th, arrived the 29th. My academic program ends May 16th, and I hope to travel for a few weeks after. I have a flight reservation for June 6th, but new plans may have me staying until the 12th- my aunt may come and tour Paris with me for a week, during which I'll celebrate my 21st birthday. In Paris. With some family, probably the only person that'll come visit me throughout this entire shebang. My parents, a boyfriend, and friends have all talked about coming and visiting, but if one person is to come through on it, it's my aunt. But I'll still keep my fingers crossed.
Hopefully I'll be able to keep this thing updated with stories and tales of travels and with pictures. We'll see how that goes. In any case, thanks for caring about me enough and what I'm up to in Europe to take the time to investigate all the things that I'll be doing. Like writing redundant sentences.
On another note- those of you reading this probably know that I'm going through a rough patch, and I just wanted to say thank you so much for being amazing friends and people. You guys are the people that ground me and pick me up when I need it or slap me in the face when I need it. I will never be able to thank you enough and I feel so blessed.
Well, with that, read on!
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