The last leg...

So, months after the trip, I realized that I left this blog without even mentioning the last leg of my travels.

After staying in Cortona through most of May, we said our tearful goodbyes to the city and left for Venice for the last organized trip of the semester. After a few beautiful days there, I traveled to Sardegna, then Paris, Amsterdam, and Bremen. Far too many things happened to reocunt them now, but I do have many beautiful photographs from those travels.

I know at some point I will return to Italy and Cortona, but as to when that time will come, we have yet to see.

Orvieto: castles & caves

This weekend, our trip took us to Orvieto, another Tuscan town. While most of the cities we've visited have been hilltowns, this one was on more of a plateau than anything else. The cathedral was enormous and impressive, but so are the cathedrals in every town i've visited.

One of the things that set Orvieto apart was the fact that within the plateau, jutting up from the top of the hill, the ancient Etruscans had carved a series of complex caves. It looked like something straight out of the Goldeneye.

Most of our time in the town was spent walking around and just getting a feel for the city. We stumbled upon a park that had a few statues, and an absolutely incredibly view. The park's walls were composed of structures that looked like (but I'm sure actually weren't) castles. Right next to the park was an ancient etruscan well. I had some time to kill before the bus left, so Stephen and I took a walk down about 150 to the bottom, and sprinted back up (significantly more difficult than we anticipated).

When we reached the top again, it was time to go. We hopped back on the bus and headed back to Cortona after our final Saturday trip.

Erin Gray: Photographer

Erin gives us a deeper look into the processes and inspirations behind her art while abroad.

Laundry Time

While I don't particularly want to divulge the number of times I've done my laundry over the semester, lets just say that it was definitely time. Yesterday, after pulling all of my clothes out of the washing machine and feeling as if I had truly accomplished something, I went outside to hang them out in the tuscan sun to dry.

Being one of the prettiest days yet, I felt quite satisfied with my decision knowing that all my clothes would be ready to slip on after a brief stint outside. But, about 20 minutes after I walked back inside... a thunder crash. The beautiful day had evaporated and, of course, a fierce downpour accompanied by hailstones had appeared outside. The storm ended just as quickly as it had began—just enough to soak my newly cleaned clothes and blow a few articles off the line.

While, of course, I was disappointed that my first Italian-style-drying had not gone as planned, it inspired a few good photos, viewable here.

Elementary school art: the big show

After 4 weeks of teaching in the elementary schools, yesterday was the final showing of all our students' art. We spent the entire day preparing for it—setting up posters, decorating the school, and stressing out in general over this highly anticipated event.

As we were putting together our posters, an Italian TV crew came in and wanted to interview our prof Carol about the program. After asking her a few questions through our local Italian translator Enza, they shoved the mic in my face and began asking me questions directly in Italian. Apparently Carol had told them that I spoke Italian, but had neglected to cue them in to the fact that I'm nowhere near fluent. Needless to say, I was caught off-guard. After tripping up on the first question (embarrassingly, "how old are you") I was suprised that I was able to respond to all the rest, such as "Why did you decide to come teach in the schools?" "What do you like best about Cortona?" and "What have you gained from this experience?" Supposedly segment will air later this week, but without a TV I think I'll miss it.

When the show began later in the afternoon, everything went perfectly. The show opened with a small procession and flag-throwing. Although the flag-throwers were without a doubt entertaining, far more so was the kids' reaction to them as they screamed, jumped, and alltogether freaked out. We had great support—this was the first time that the flag-throwers had come out to the event, and all the students in our program showed up to the show. Even Italian rockstar Jovanotti made an appearance.

Every grade put out awesome works of art, and I think our grades' turned out particularly well. We set up 5 posters to display the work they had done over the past weeks... they looked great, if I do say so myself. And, in thanks, our students each wrote us individual thank-you notes.

After the show was just as good, if not better, than the main event. Some of the other teachers and I decided to stay after and play "1, 2, 3, STELLE!" (the italian version of redlight greenlight) with some of the students. After walking out of the gates and leaving the school, everyone left with a great sense of accomplishment and fulfillment after a few long weeks of work.

Youth

I hope when I'm old I can look at

my photographs

my journals

my sketches

my songs

my life

and be reborn

through the flames of ignorance and bliss

and inconceivable naïvetè

so that one day I can remember

the utter stupidity of youth.

The heavenly state of knowing

nothing,

and knowing it well.

And feeling as if it entitles me to an entirety 

outside of everything with which

I've been presented.

What better state to assess the world

than an unbiased mind

full of misunderstanding and misdeed?

That which has been lost

jubilation. anguish. passion.

What more is any art form

than an attempt to recreate

that which the soul knows

but the tongue cannot speak?

An expression—

poem, melody, painting—

so filled with these realities

eventually can no longer contain

its own mass.

It spills over its boundaries

and flows through the soul,

rejoining the spirit

it has successfully recreated.

The essence of unrefined truth of experience.

It reaches the resonant frequency of emotion

amplifying an instantaneous crescendo

through everything it reaches.

It connects everything that will

or ever has been

in a single instant of

holy union.

They say language is only a metaphor,

a mere symbol of actuality,

and it comes from a part of the heart

already dead.

These experiences reanimate

that which has been

lost.

St. Peter's Basilica

What light shines through stained glass

falls sorrowfully on stained earth.

For every martyr lie a thousand more

deemed unworthy of the title.

Whatever hopes lay strung up on a cross

are left to hang in the arid sun while soldiers,

adorning the crucifix,

do battle in its name.

Every gilded ceiling is another lost patch of sky.

Barn party... el dos

When we got back from the Perugia day trip, it was time for another party at the farm down in the valley. It was raining—foreshadowing for how the rest of the walk would go.

The music, so we were told, started at 10, so we planned to leave around 9:30 (not actually getting out of the door until 9:45). On the way down, we struggled to find the way we had come up the last time. As we strained to recognize landmarks in the dark, it soon became clear that we were had no idea where we were. Although I had fully anticipated that we might get lost, the sentiment clearly wasn't universal, and a few small arguments broke out as stress levels rose. In the height of that stress, we stumbled upon one of the creepiest things I've ever seen. Gated off in a courtyard was a white, glowing neon cross, under which was a life-size crucifix. Either side was lined with gravestones and an ambient orange light seeming to emanate from the walls.

After being thoroughly off-put, we did eventually arrive at the farm at 11 pm. Unfortunately, the band had stopped early, apparently because of daylight savings time? Clocks would change that night, but they hadn't yet... Either way, it was still a blast. Five euro for food, wine, and DJed music. We danced, made a fire, and went back up the hill.

Stephen, Jess and I decided we wanted to stay up until sunrise. But, after half an hour on top of the cold, windy mountain and seeing that the sunrise was a long way off at 6 am (the clock change had kicked in by this point), we defeatedly decided to head back down to bed.

Assisi & Perugia

Another Saturday, another day trip. This one started out with a stop in Assisi, home of St. Frances and site of the first Franciscan church. As it stands now, it may be my favorite church we've visited. It's not overly lavish (relative to other Italian churches), with dark, low arched ceilings and, of course, frescoes and other art lining every wall. The outside architecture, though, is what I found most appealing. The surrounding space filled with columns leading up to the large, castle-like church set against the sky created a great, almost fairy-tale like effect.

After the church, we walked the streets up to a quaint little piazza. Nothing extraordinary, but it had a nice little vibe to it. We stayed there a moment and moved on the the next city—Perugia.

After the bus driver spent about 45 minutes trying to get into the city, we took the train in. Almost immediately upon entering, Stephen saw a girl he recognized from a random encounter on a bus in Cortona. Her & her friend agreed to walk around with me, AJ and Stephen to show us the city. Most of our trip was comprised of walking around the city. It had much the same feel as Cortona, but clearly was a much larger city. We walked along an ancient aqueduct, stopped in an antique market, and walked through the cobbled streets until it was time to go home

Time flies...

It feels so strange to be talking about the end of the semester, but it's coming up quick. Today was the first day that I seriously started considering how I will finish all my work in time. My parents come on sunday, and they'll be here for two weeks, then Kristen comes for the week after that, at the end of which is the final show. So, in the next two weeks (if I want to be done with my work and still have time to see everyone) I have to film and produce possibly two movies, keep on top of this blog, and continue making lessons for Art Ed. I'm not stressing too bad about it, but It's a bit of a reality check that the end of my time here is coming at me pretty quick.

I think the reason my workload is even an issue is that, although I know I can get it all done, it all involves computers. Unfortunately, that means that when the weather is nicest I'll be cooped up indoors. I need to make sure I don't lock myself inside for this last month in Cortona.

The plans for booking my final trip are slowly materializing... A little bit too slowly—I really should be taking more of an initiative on it. As it stands right now, I will be going to spain, then Paris, then Amsterdam, then London, and back to Zurich for my flight home.

"P.S. you're in Europe...

...get laid, get drunk, break something, be debaucherous."

These last words left on the dorm's common room by Bret the day that he and Fitz had to leave. These two were ex-students hanging out for a couple weeks in Cortona. It might have something to do with the fact that they had no work to do, but these two kept it lighthearted and reminded us all not to take ourselves too seriously. We are in Europe, after all.

Spring has not necessarily sprung...

I would like to retract my previous post. Spring is currently fighting and elbowing its way past winter, with some give in either direction. Yesterday our saturday trip was cancelled because of a (relatively) large snowfall. Though as a Chicagoan 2-3 inches might not seem like a enough for a snow day, when you need to drive charter busses down winding, unplowed mountain roads, it is.

Today, on the other hand, was sunny and 60º. We spent the morning at the bookmaking prof Jo Ann's apartment for a southern-style brunch. Incredible. She and her son Fitz cooked the food as long as we kept bringing it. Eggs, peppers, bacon sausage... the food kept coming as we stood out on her sun-bathed patio overlooking the city.

We talked while Johnny cash played in the background, moving later to the Beatles. It was a small, wonderful, taste of home.

Spring has sprung

Spring has sprung. The past few days have been sunny, warm, and glorious. Sunday, after going into town for breakfast and gelato, Stephen and I went hiking along the city wall. Most of it was only 4 or 5 feet wide on dilapidated rock with at least a 20 foot drop on either side... probably not the best of ideas, but i'm young and invincible, so it doesn't matter. Also, I got some great photos out of it. After lounging out in the sun a bit, we went and played our weekly soccer game and ran ourselves ragged in what felt like sweltering heat (even though I'm sure it couldn't have been over 65).

Today was just as good. After waking up at 9 to do some preparation for our next lesson in the schools, I went into town for lunch. I ended up staying down in town and reading for an hour or so, finally finishing On the Road after dragging it out for an absurd length of time. After reading, I sketched the tops of the Cortonese roofs for another hour, then came up the hill.

It was too gorgeous to stay inside, though, so I ended up sitting on the wall outside of the Kehoe Center and playing guitar for a while as the sun set.

If the weather stays like this for the rest of the trip, I won't get any work done. Ever.

Animal Collective in Florence

Right now I'm on a train back from Florence. Last night we went to an Animal Collective Show. Although the show was great, the process of getting there was kind of a bitch.

First, we missed our bus from Cortona to the train station in Camucia, so we decided to walk. Although it was a beautiful walk, it ended up taking over an hour (longer than it would have taken to wait for the next bus).

Then, after taking just a minute too long to buy our train tickets, our train was pulling away as we stepped onto the platform. We caught the next one an hour later.

When finally we got to Florence, we found that we had arrived too late for our hostel, and it was already closed. We managed to stay at the "Plus Florence" hostel. And, although it was a little bit nicer, cost twice as much.

After that, we tried to meet up with the other half of our group who were scheduled to arrive later. Without cell phones, we failed at yet another of our objectives.

As the time of the concert drew closer, we decided it was time to try to catch a bus to our destination. And, of course, the 35 was nowhere to be found. We ended up buying a cab, which was the first thing we did right that night.

As we got to the venue, the opening DJ was finishing up his set. And the show began. It was a relatively small venue, so we were able to get front row relatively easily. The crowd was digging it. They played a lot off of Merriweather Post, but the best song in my opinion was Fireworks. I was as little disappointed they didn't play more off of Strawberry Jam, but it was a great show either way.

Leaning tower, bike tours... cocaine naked?

Another great weekend. Yesterday we took a day trip to Pisa & Lucca. We were only in Pisa for an hour or two, and although it was nice to see the leaning tower, the whole city felt so rushed that the stop there wasn't really worth it. Mostly, it felt super touristy and kitschy

After that was Lucca, though. Maybe the town, or maybe it was the weather—probably some combination of the two—but our time spent there was some of my favorite time in Italy. We rented bikes and rode around the city. The city walls, which are about 30 meters wide all the way around, have now been converted into one large public park with bike path included. Despite the fact that my bike was entirely too small and consequently hurt my ass, the gorgeous weather made up for it. My time in Lucca was capped with a walnut and strawberry gelato.

After Lucca we caught a train to Florence for a soccer game Sunday (today). That night, after some trouble, we eventually found our hostel. for €12, it wasn't a bad deal. The beds were comfortable and the rooms relatively spacious. The view, on the other hand, was a little questionable. Before we went out for the night, around 10:30, someone noticed that from their window, we could see a television in the adjacent building. They were watching porn. Not only that, but as this man stepped into visibility, it became obvious that he was wearing only a T-shirt. Soon thereafter, he began doing a line of coke. An interesting beginning to the night, to say the least.

The next morning we were out of the hostel by 10 am, and went around to the markets of florence buying purple paraphernalia (forza viola!). The atmosphere outside the stadium was excellent—game day is the same all around the world. Inside the stadium was everything I expected from a euro-soccer match. Constant songs and jeers, especially "Palermo, Palermo, vaffan culo!" (Palermo, go do it in the ass). The opposite team's fans were in a fenced-off section to protect them from the home fans, or vice versa. Unfortunately, Florence didn't even score one goal, so we didn't get to experience the explosion from the crowd after a score, let alone a victory. Nevertheless, it was a good time.

Florence this time around was much more enjoyable, probably because I wasn't dead tired of traveling and wasn't forced to go to 2+ museums a day. Also, the weather was beautiful. Now I'm headed back to Cortona, but we'll be headed back here later in the week to see Animal Collective.

Day one: scuola elementare

Yesterday, for our Art Eduction class, we went and taught in the elementary schools for the first time. My group of three took on a class of 21 third-graders, labeled by the teachers as the "crazy ones." Almost every single one of the kids was running around or shouting at some point... apparently a big cultural difference between the US and Italy is how much madness is permitted in the classroom.

In our lesson, they were instructed to use water colors to depict a hobby of theirs. It went incredibly well. The kids transferred some of their energy to their art, and were enthusiastic about everything we did. One boy ran and interrupted me multiple times to show me his work as he finished every step. Working at camp has really helped me to deal with the kids, I think. They were all super high-energy, but it was just a matter of redirecting that energy.

The experience was probably my best opportunity to date to use my Italian. For the whole hour, I was essentially the only person in the room who could speak Italian and English well (except for one young American girl). Although we had the basics of hour lesson plan translated prior to coming to the school, and questions, complications, or developments that emerged had to be communicated on the fly, and I think it worked pretty well. It was essentially a complete immersion in the language that I haven't entirely experienced up to this point.

At the end of the class we did a group critique of the students' work and every kid shot up their hands to talk about why they liked their peers' paintings—It was a much better attitude with much more enthusiasm that I expected. It also gave me a tool to help calm them down. Everyone was so eager to talk they were literally jumping out of their seats and running towards me with hands flailing. Given how much everyone wanted to talk, I told them that if they were talking out of turn, I wouldn't call on them. And, while it didn't work 100%, there was a noticeable difference. I'll try to do that from the start next week.

It was a wonderful experience, and I can't wait to do it again next week.

 

Barn party! Hippies! Germans!

Chris, an American WWOOFing (World-Wide Opportunities Organic Farms) program, invited the UGA students to a party last night at his farm on the outskirts of the city. €10 for hot food, wine, and live music. About six of us decided to go, so right after dinner we piled into our gardener Gino's car and rode down the winding road to the barn.

We arrived to find about 30 or 40 people sitting around in an old barn. It was lit with strung-up Christmas lights and was heated with a wood-burning stove in the corner. Two floor-lamps shone on the band—an assortment of German hippies—playing oriental music. The band, Embryo, consisted of two old men, one kid who couldn't have been out of high-school, two young hipsters, and a young girl. It seemed like they could have been jamming, but they picked up and slowed down with such synchronization that it sounded coordinated at the same time.

Chris introduced us to three more Americans who had just finished WWOOFing in Calabria—all of them art students. One of them, Annika, was from the Appalachians and had just finished at a school for folk-arts, in which she studied storytelling, music, etc. all in the traditional Appalachian style.

The band finished up their first set and took a short intermission and came out into the crowd to eat and drink with us. I talked with one of the older men named Wolfe who insisted that when I travel at the end of the program I stay in Munich. I walked outside and found a circle with some Italians and some Americans talking to the bass player. People were asking him questions (rather basic ones), like "Where are you going after Cortona?" Nearly every response was "I don't know, ask the professor," referring to the oldest of the band, with shoulder length hair and large, thick glasses.

We stepped back inside and the music began again. It was madness. They changed their style entirely from an eastern sound to energetic, jazzed-up funk. The people in the small barn all began to dance... shirts came off, arms flailed out, and from somewhere a bird-beak mask appeared and made it's way from face to face. They must have plated continuously for almost an hour and a half, resting only two or three times. The crowd began to do everything they could to contribute to the music. We stomped our feet on the old wooden floor, clapped our hands, whistled, and above all danced

When the madness was over, we stepped outside and made a fire on the gravel road. We grabbed some bread and tomatoes from inside and made bruschetta over the fire and Annika brought out her ukulele. We sang "Wolves" by Phosphorescent and of course the eternal American singalong, "Wagon Wheel."

When around 2:30 the fire had died and it was time to go, we started what must have been a 3-mile hike back up the mountain. It was the best walk home I've had. Under the full moon we walked down country roads, over bridges, and trough farms. Always uphill. At one pass where we stopped to rest, three horses came to the side of the road. We fed them grass and pet their noses for a few minutes until it was time to move on. We arrived back in the city bathed in orange light and we climbed up Via Santa Margherita to collapse in our beds.

Harps in the olive grove

We spent the first half of the day in Volterra. And, whille it was very nice, it was essentially much of the same thing we've been doing. Seeing some renaissance art, getting pizza, etc.

San Gimignano, on the other hand, was entirely different. We got there, and instead of going to the scheduled trip, we went and sat on a hill in the middle of a circle of olive trees. While we were basking in the sun in the olive grove, a woman was playing a harp and singing (at one point covering a Simon and Garfunkel song). From the little park, we could see all of the Tuscan countryside. It was just another moment on the trip when everything seemed very serene and surreal.

After that, AJ, Stephen, Kelby and I joined a pickup game of soccer with some local kids... probably middle-school aged. They kicked our asses. The soccer court was in the middle of the city overlooking the land-scape and rooftops. 

Also, this was the first time I was conscious for most of our bus ride through Tuscany. It really is breathtaking. The vineyards, olive groves, and farms look beautiful on the rolling hills.

Pienza & Montepulciano (Cheese & Wine)

This day trip took us to Pienza and Montepulciano, the cheese and wine capitols of Italy, respectively.

Deliciousness ensues.

Cortonese in love with life

The average American believes there is nothing worse than being average. For him, this realm of the unacceptable ordinary is attained simply by not being extraordinary. If you don’t make six figures, own an SUV to plow through the suburbs, or have a 3-car garage in which to park that beast, you’re not living up to your potential. In stark contrast to the masses of materialist America, though, all the Cortonese remain entirely contented with their lot in life, no matter what societal role they may assume. Surrounded by the insurmountable beauty of the Tuscan countryside, just existing in Cortona seems to be enough. Although the February 14th festivities might officially honor St. Valentine, they did more to annunciate the townspeople’s ability to celebrate life in their relatively humble setting. With a vibrant festival in which all the townspeople joined, “Cortona in Love” emphasized the Cortonese’s love for life.

This attitude of utter fulfillment in the locals is almost impossible to miss. The grocer always greets his customers with a smile that seems ready to leap off of his face, chuckling as he picks out fruit. Looking at him, it seems that in the entire world there could not be a single person happier to be selling an orange. The same holds true for every deli or café owner across town. Every visit begins with a smile and ends with the same. Even the waiters serving our dinners find ways to get every ounce of enjoyment from their jobs. Never would I have thought that giving someone far more food than they asked for—over and over again—would be as funny as it is. And they love it.

Why is it, though, that these working class people can be so content with their social standing, while most Americans working as waiters can’t wait to get out? Because we venerate the “American Dream” and rehash its importance from the cradle to the grave. The most revered citizens in our society are those that embody the rags-to-riches story. Of course it’s inspiring when those few manage to move up the social ladder, but inevitably throngs of people won’t be able to do so, despite their efforts. These are the people left resenting their jobs, their home, and their livelihood. They’re left too busy trying to pull themselves up by their bootstraps that they can’t focus on where their boots are solidly planted. When you obsess about where you could be versus where you are, you forget to live the life you have.

At 14 children must essentially pick which field of study they want to remain in for the rest of their lives. And, while this may have its clear disadvantages, these students are not told their entire lives that they need to be something better than themselves. Without a constant focus on mobility, it’s easier to better your life as opposed to searching for a new one that may never even come. It’s an ideology very different from America’s, but it works in Cortona.

With America sliding into the worst financial crisis it’s seen in decades, perhaps its citizens should take a lesson from the Cortonese. Material wealth should have little impact on the happiness one finds in living—it’s the same whether you’re a billionaire or a bag-boy.

A Brief History of the World's Original Badass

January 1989: Joel’s birth is heralded in newspapers across Chicago as the most attractive and well-endowed infant in decades

October 1993: His works in the finger-painting medium begin to garner international attention, most of which remains on display in the Louvre today

November 1994: He quickly leaps to the top of his 1st grade class for his mastery of such difficult spellings as “friend” and “because”

December 1995: Upon receiving his first guitar for Christmas, Joel soon wows the nation with his heartfelt rendition of “Pop Goes the Weasel,” soon climbing to the top of the billboard music charts.

October 1995: representatives from major universities nationwide come to scout Joel as he demolishes his 3rd grade competition on the ice hockey rink.

July 2000: Joel spends his first week at Camp Anokijig where his aptitude for pranks, hookups, and general revelry earn him an almost immediate legendary status.

June 2007: Continuing his trend of scholastic excellence began in his elementary school days, Joel graduates high school Cum Laude. After turning his back on the plethora of scholarships offered, he opted instead for a scholarly pursuit at the University of Wisconsin.

Future plans include a life of philanthropy, crime fighting, and nude posing for Rick “The Silver Fox” Johnson.