Dec 16, Day 125, Farewells

I’ve become increasingly excited about going home each day for the past couple of weeks. But when the big day finally came, I felt a little gloomy saying arrivederci. I’m happy to finally go, but this undeniably marks the halfway point in my Italian adventure -unless I decide to extend it. I’m extremely pleased with my decision to come here, and all that has passed since my arrival, but I thought I’d would somehow see more, do more, and build stronger relationships. I guess I set a high bar. These 4 months have passed incredibly fast, and somehow I feel “behind schedule.” I’ll consider corrective actions one my return (like booking low-cost flights to places I’ve been meaning to visit and programming some more social opportunities by joining gym or salsa class,) but right now I can’t wait to see the family!

Dec 13, Day 122, Quarter-Century

I’ll try to revisit the last-weekend entry, but things are accelerating as my departure approaches, and I may not get around to it.

I don’t have very much to say about my 25th birthday other than that twenty-five sounds shockingly old for me. How can I be 25 already? Neglecting relativistic effects, I’m closer to 30 than 20, closer to 40 than 4, and half way to 50. It’s probably better that I don’t remember the mathematics well enough to work out the relativity because that will only make 50 seem closer! I’m reflecting a quote that I wanted to include in the England/Thanksgiving entries that I never wrote. I was talking to a guy on the train about my recent adventures (Italy, Argentina, Stanford, Australia, Peru) and he told me that, The world is yours. I think it sounds a little James Bond-ish, but I like it. It reminds me that I’d better ensure that I don’t start to become complacent in my old age as there’s a lot more of the world left than I’ve seen! I’ll continue to mull it over as a potential starting point to evolve a new chapter in the 2007 emendation of my Manifesto.

I’m struggling a bit to define this document. Last year I called it a Manifesto; which seemed appropriate because it was somewhat public. However, I think manifesto has a more political connotation that I’m reaching for at this time. Distorting it into Latin (manifestus obvious) has a nicer ring to it, and I like the slight ambiguity because it’s understandable but not colloquial. I keep thinking that Credo is also pretty close, but I feel that it implies a certain amount of dogmatic acceptance without reasoning. Ideology could work, but it may suggest an amount of speculation or idealism that I’m not going for. Convictions hints at a guilty verdict. Philosophy would be a broader scope than I’m going for. How about Resolutions! Duh.

How about getting back to my birthday?

Ricardo turned 26 on the 12th, so we had a little shared party for the two of us on Tuesday night. I left the office at 6 with Ricardo, Fabrizio, and Antonio, but between traffic and some other delays we didn’t arrive at Gloria’s apartment until 9PM. We snacked on some chips while waiting for a couple of their friends to arrive. I think it’s interesting that I’ve recently stumbled into this island of southern Italians but I guess it’s appropriate because I’m at least part terreno as well. I’ve come to realize that this is the part of Italy that I’ve been searching for. I believe it does exist, but I’ve only seen it though the stories of other people so far. Unfortunately, I can’t foresee a way that I could test-drive that lifestyle while furthering my career experience unless I do it on my weekends. This is something I plan to focus on as spring approaches.

Unfortunately, I’m going to have to cut this entry short because I’m still tired from the escapades of last night. Sorry for getting bogged down in some semantics back there.

After the chips we ordered pizzas to be delivered. Frabrizio and Ricardo went to go pick up one of their buddies, and I was left with Antonio and the girls. Giovanna told me a charming story about spending a few weeks sailing from Genova to Sicilia. I’ve wanted to sail around the Bahamas for some time, but the Mediterranean is also very appealing! Her voyage reminded of when I stayed on a house boat on Lake Powell. The boys came back, and before long it was time to open the champagne. For the past couple of weeks I’ve been teaching the guys a bit of American culture, or at least some of our (my) expressions. So I was asked to repeat “my toast.” I taught the guys this toast a while back: “Live like movie stars, Party like rock stars…” The ending is a bit vulgar, so I’ll omit it. They seem to really like it. I guess it represents a certain element of the American dream that is highlighted by the off-color decadence in the American tv shows that are imported here.

Then it was time to open presents. I even got gifts! -A cover for my ipod, and a little cube-book. I was not expecting such a gesture, so it made the surprise that much better. I I couldn’t think of anything as thoughtful, so I gave Ricardo a bottle of a well-crafted Venezuelan rum.

The next morning I saw frost on the ground and some of the cars on the way to work. I wore my alpaca wool scarf that I bought in Pumamarca, Argentina last summer. I think this is the first time I’ve ever worn a scarf! It made me feel very Italian.

Dec 10, Day 119, Last Italian weekend in ‘06: (Weekend #18)

















It’s finally stopped raining, and I’m writing to you looking at unfamiliar stars though my window.

Friday was a national holiday, so I was able to extend my last weekend in Italy this year by an extra day. Although this extra day off made the workweek 20% shorter, the time in the office seemed to drag along slower than ever just to spite me. The unrelenting drizzle outsize made the office even gloomier than usual, regardless of my anticipation towards the approaching holiday. I had hoped to go skiing in Austria with some of the guys from BMW, but it’s been too warm to snow so we decided to wait until January and looked to make other plans this weekend.

I left the office on Thursday evening in haste although I still had no plans of any sort for the evening. I was on the bus after an unusually short wait, and spent a good chunk of the ride pinging people in my phone book looking for someone interested in going out. I got no takers and decided I’d try to get to bed early to get up rested to go to the motorshow in Bolognia with Paddy and company. After dinner I slipped out to the bar downstairs, ordered a gin and tonic from Luca the bartender, and planted myself at a table with a good view of the area. I decided it was time to move on to a new venue after trying (unsuccessfully) to start a conversation with the cute waitress. I strolled across town to find Igor planted in his usual station, smoking while he guards the door of Vanity café. Any conversation died off after a short time although I hadn’t seen him in quite a while. I went inside to see if anything was going on. Instead of the usual scene, I found the lights dimmed and most of the tables were filled. The waitresses were playfully skipping around as they delivered the drinks, and I got an energetic smile of acknowledgement from one of them that I had been recognized. But I felt disconnected from the seated groups that were singing along to the Italian music. I clocked out early so not to be too tired in the morning.

To be continued…

6Dec, Day 115-(10 Days until leaving for NY), Strufuli and Dust

According to the laws of the universe that most of us subscribe to, matter is not usually created or destroyed. However, dust is a strange exception. I can almost measure the speed at which it collects on the floor of my apartment --but it seems to have no source. Just think, if my floor is gaining a few hundred cubic centimeters (about a cup when you weep it into a pile) of dust every week, then something else must be losing a few hundred cc of dust every week. I know! It must be falling from space. All those theories about the oceans rising because we’re melting the ice couldn’t be farther from the truth. It’s cosmic dust. Call Steven Hawkings because I have all the evidence right here.

While we’re studying the universe, I’d also like to know why my candles were made 3 inches wide, but the only wax that burns makes a tunnel down the middle about 1 inch wide. What am I supposed to do with a tube of wax with a hole in the middle where the wick was? Anyone who’s seen a hybrid rocket engine might suggest making the wick longer next time. Why don’t the make it a spiral?

And speaking of wax with an empty space in the middle: who is the idiot who put Paris Hilton on tv doing Vodafone commercials in Italian?! She’s deplorable. (Does Linus say that?) They’d be better off replacing her with the girl who made the news tonight for exotic dancing on the subway trains for tips. I bet she makes a pretty good turnover. It’s bound to be a lot better than the people who mumble at you with their hand out. I want to give them a high five, but I’m not in the mood to get stabbed.

It’s been another miserably dreary day, but the neighbors brightened up my evening and brought me a plate of strufuli. They’re like the little nuggets of fried dough covered in honey and sprinkles like grandma makes, but these were about half the size, and a bit fluffier. They also use silver bb-like balls, white jellybeans, and little pieces of candied fruit to augment the traditional rainbow sprinkles. I definitely need to get them at least one thing in return, but I really have no idea what they might like. I guess a poinsettia plant is a safe bet, but I’ll take suggestions.


2Dec, Day 111, Rockefeller Centro

This entry is dedicated to Jessica -for remembering me when I forget.

I went “downtown” today to look for some Christmas gifts. In Europe, they usually call it the centro-in italian, but with things decorated for Christmas I felt some nostalgia of NYC. They even have some kind of a tree in the piazza duomo, but it’s not decorated for Christmas, so I’m not sure what’s the motivation for sticking it there. It would really be really festive if we got some snow, but the people bundle up in scarves and long coats as though it could be snowing although I’m told this is an exceptionally warm year. (However, although it has been quite damp.) But the streets were packed with a bustle of shoppers walking with bags and packages, and I think we’ve also increased the number of window-shoppers by at least a factor of three. Now they have to jockey for space in front of the glass to study the shopkeeper’s wares.

But I made a slight tactical error today in forgetting the map and compass yet deciding to try to walk from Garibaldi to downtown instead of taking the metro. It ended up taking about 90 minutes longer than it should have if I took a direct route, but my roundabout track brought me by the Lincoln Road-esque Corso Como on before reaching the designer district of via Montenapoleone, and then finally Corso Vittorio Emanuele ending at the Duomo. I particularly enjoyed the designer district where one can gaze in awe upon a single outfit that costs more than all the clothes I own. However, after a second or two my attention is drawn to the eccentric people who are actually shopping here. They are a mix of models accompanied by rich men, opulently dressed ‘nobility’, and tourists who probably aren’t going to take anything home but their photos of the window displays.

I stopped in the Antica Ambrosiana to thaw out with a hot chocolate, but the circulating brew actually looks better than they are. (–This one anyway.) Allow my to clarify that statement. The hot chocolate can be seen being mixed above the bar next to the espresso machine. It is somewhat reminiscent of the Ghirardelli factory in San Francisco, but on a much smaller scale. They pour it with a tap, but it comes out a consistency similar to yogurt and is served with a spoon. If you let it cool it begins to develop a film or crust on top, but I just didn’t find it satisfying. In think if I was sitting in front of a fire instead of standing at a bar it might’ve had a different effect on me.

The Piazza del Duomo was just as packed with people as the side streets leading into it. Only here there is little for sale besides pigeon food. I noticed someone had erected a small log cabin with a large tree in the behind it. I’m not actually sure if this is a related to Christmas or not because the tree was not decorated. Meanwhile, on the far side a group of pacifists were juggling to the transiberian orchestra’s Christmas album. I crossed the flock human-birdfeeders in the center of the piazza continuing on to Corso Sempione where I found one of the gifts I was looking for. The street running parallel to sempione was having some sort of crafts fair. I browsed over the goods without seeing anything of interest aside from the first Christmas trees that I’ve seen for sale in Italy. These were small trees in pots. I guess people might plant them in January! I would actually like a potted pine tree on my balcony, but it would be a hassle to carry the pot all the way from ‘downtown’. My last stop was Peck, Milan’s best gourmet restaurant and food store. Here, I did not find what I was looking for at a reasonable price.

I had dinner with the neighbors where we had homemade pizza, a small meatloaf in a piecrust with a carrot in the middle, and a spinach pie. Some of the highlights were hearing how they make lemoncello, strufula, and rococo.

After dinner I went back to Milan to meet a couple of Sicilian guys who are new at work and some of their friends. We went to a warehouse converted into a club I think they called Studio Uno. We had a good time and stayed quite late.

1Dec, Day 110, Bus Woes

The only thing worse than seeing the bus pull away just as you reach the stop, is waiting 110 minutes for the bus on a Friday evening before finding out that there was a transportation strike.

Nov 30, Day 109, The next level of character building

I used to think trying to dance Salsa was difficult in english/spanish. Communication barriers in Italian has raised the bar.

Nov 29, Day 108, The Bacio

“If you gave me all the kisses in the world it still wouldn’t be enough.”
-a quote on a silver candy wrapper that came with my coffee at lunch

Bacio means kiss in Italian. It is a type of candy that might be the inspiration for Hershey’s famous creation; or it might be completely unrelated.

I have my first complaint about Italian food. Ready? Ok. Here goes: I think it’s nearly impossible to eat a small-normal size meal that has the proper balance of the major food groups in a restaurant. If you want carbs, they comes as a whole plate of pasta. If you want protein, that covers a separate plate. And if it doesn’t come with much vegetable, you’ll need to order a third plate to get something green. However, they usually give you about ¾ of a meal on each plate, so you have to eat at least 1 and ½ meals to get carbs and protein. It’s not uncommon to exceed 2 meals in one sitting if you want carbs, protein, and vegetables. I don’t think I’m a light eater by any standard excluding sumo wrestlers, but I’m sick of stuffing myself to feel like I had a complete and balanced meal. So to counter some of these deficiencies that I will face if I start only eating a single plate, I bought some multi-vitamins. They don’t sell vitamins in the supermarkets although they have a plethora of herbal extracts with dubious nutritional value. So I had to go to a pharmacy to buy vitamins for 25 cents/pill. In Italian they call that a fregatura! (rip-off)

Nov 23, Day 102, Thanksgiving in England











Wow, triple digits of days, and 31 pages of writing.

Week 13, Adventures in Toscana (Pisa)

I thought I had a lot to say about this trip, but less is coming to mind a week after the fact. We decided on Monday that I should go to Pisa for a week starting on Tuesday to do some work with one of our partners, a startup in Pontedera.

To my surprise I found myself working alongside some of the people in the ARTS and CRIM labs that I went to visit for a half day in April. However, the engineer who showed me around in the Spring is now working with one of my old professors in Stanford. In a sense we’ve switched places.

It was a nice trip. I had fund working and my free time. I think it was probably my most pleasing week of work because I was able to spend a good chunk of time each day doing mechanical engineering with other mechanical engineers. I actually found it a refreshing change working to derive a system of differential equations to represent a magneto-electro-mechanical system despite the difficulties we were having reducing the number of variables into something we might have a chance of solving. This is a contrast to my usual days in the office which are dominated by quiet hours benchmarking technologies on the internet. However, I expect a change of pace in the near future because we just signed a contract with a client.

But I’m finding other outlets for my pent up creative energies. After sawing away on my violin for a half hour, I made an interesting concoction before sitting down to write to the blog. I don’t think this is something you’ll find in a bar in Italy, or America for that matter. But it turned out pretty good blend. I mixed 1 part lemon liquor with 3 parts kiwi juice in a chilled “midget” martini glass. I’m still exploring names, (actually I haven’t thought I should name it until I found myself writing about it,) but kiwi-tang might work.









11/12 Nov, Week 12, Venitian Isles




I woke early in my cubicle of a room to find the sun streaming though the courtain lighting up the red and gold padded wallpaper. I marched down to breakfast, and was surprised to find that they were offering more than just bread and coffee. After some ham, bread, nutella, and fruit, I grabbed some food for later, and hit the road.

First, I was off to the train station to buy my ticket home (With a reserved seat.) The residential districts of Venice is was calmer today than the bustle of the Piazza San Marco. This part of the city seemed more like a "city." From the train station I took a traghetto to the Island of Murano.

Murano had a little more of the feel of the Venice I was looking for yesterday. With only a handful of tourists, it was easy to meander the streets along the canals crisscrossing the island. I went to a few glass factories where the tourists seem to congregate, but pushed on because I was not interested in waiting in line to watch someone blow glass. I grabbed a panini for lunch, and continued strolling the streets, but now with a purpose.

After watching someone make glass horses, I decided I should by a glass souvineer. -But something more italian than the horses, dolphins, butterflies, or tableware that dominated the shops. I decided that a small soccer ball would be ideal, but I asked nearly every shop on the island without finding a single one. I began to think that the majority of glass for sale was mass-produced as you can see similarities between items in different shops. I suppose there are still some orriginal pieces to be found, but not a soccer ball. I even asked one of the glass-makers to make me one, but he didn't think he could without many failed attempts. Too bad they don't make custom glass like when you ask the balloon clown to make you a particular type of balloon hat, sword, or whatever. Any venitian glass blowers reading this blog may want exploit this business oportunity. You can start the first custom glass factory in Venice!

I had planned to go to another one of the islands off Venice after Murano, but I would be cutting it close to make the train back, so I headed back to the mainland and spent another hour or 2 wandering the streets in the northern part of the city before parking myself in a cafe to wait the remaining half hour for the train. I ordered a spritz, "traditional" drink of venice and tried to discuss some potential birthday gifts for jessica with the 17-year old waitress. She didn't have many interesting ideas.

The ride back was nothing special (as it should be), and I arrived pretty exhausted after a long, but good weekend.

11/12 Nov, Week 12, 262 Photos












I think I’ve been talking about going to Venice for more than a month now, but hadn’t been able to organize myself enough to go until today. There seemed to be nothing going on Friday, so I timed the returning of my neighbor’s ice tray that we used to make the pesto to coincide with dinnertime. They didn’t have to ask me 3 times to join them for dinner to get me to stay. We had an improvised mix of baked chicken, corn with pickled eggplant, and large nuggets of parmesan cheese with warm bread. In some ways I’m reminded of talking to Lew as we delved into the 3 social menaces corrupting our society: the automobile, television, and drugs. I could see Dante’s point as drugs being a cause for concern, but the others were less obvious.

He claims the television is a culprit because it broadcasts untruths, biased propaganda, and tells people to live in a particularly profligate manner under the guise of disseminating factual information and impartial news.

Meanwhile, here I am fighting a losing battle with an oversized fly. He’s too fast for me to kill but his unrelenting buzzing is conjuring uncomfortably evocative images of Beezelbub and the Lord of the Flies. I’ve locked him in the bathroom twice, and he’s escaped both times. I think I’m going to have to blockade the door before I can sleep.

Back to Dante’s menaces to society: the Automobile has liberated our youth to leave the shelter and safety of their towns and parents, exposing them to dangers they are unprepared to deal with. It further propagates the self-indulgent debaucherous messages of the TV, but also provides a means for people to live in such a way. -Pretty heavy for a conversation over baked chicken and spiced corn.

After dinner I went down to Vanity Café to talk to Igor and the waitresses. Igor is the door man. He’s a nice guy, and a captive audience when I’m looking for someone to talk to. The girls are more evasive after their initial salutation. I debated trying to engage them in a brainstorm in hopes to come up with a good birthday gift for Jessica, but social courage was not on my side tonight. I went inside for a poorly made drink, once I began to get cold. This time I tried their whisky sour, though it was almost acidic enough to give instantaneous heartburn.

Right, I was going to write a bit about Venice tonight, but the train ride to get was a classical “Italian experience” and should not be forgotten. I arrived at Milano Centrale ½ hour before the eurostar train to Venice at 8:30. Only, when I went to the machine to buy the ticket, there were no seats left. This was discovered this after trying 3 or 4 machines before finding one that was actually working. I’ve been riding the trains for nearly 3 months and this was the first time I was denied a ticket. But real quintessence is yet to be told. I bought a ticket for the next slower train at 9:05. While waiting I bumped into one of the other students from my class in the language school. This is the third or fourth time I’ve randomly met someone in Milan. I guess the city is smaller than it might seem. Anyway, it turned out that he was taking the same train, but getting off in Brescia after about 1 hour ride. We waited together for them to post which platform our train would depart from. With about 10 minutes to before departure the posted the binario, and we walked over to the platform to find melee of people already trying to jam their way onto the train. We worked our way though the mass and eventually got on to find standing room only. It’s a 3 hour ride to Venice, and we were going to be packed like sardines if you’ll excuse my cliché! The train left a few minutes late as the conductor waited for more people to cram their way onboard. I began to push my way though the cars, hoping to find more breathing room somewhere else. I walked the whole train to the very front. Here were 2 cops, and the conductor. The conductor began checking tickets and people began to shuffle around. (I think at least half the people using Italian public transportation at any given moment do so without a ticket.) It probably makes sense, as I’ve spent about 100 euros on bus tickets over the past 3 months but have only been checked once. I think the maximum fine is 50 euros, so I’d be up at least 50 euros if I had never bought a single bus ticket. It’s a similar situation with the train. Once people started shuffling away from the conductor, some floor space opened up, and I took a seat on the floor for the remainder of the trip. After the first stop the door in this car stopped working, and I got a chuckle watching people trying to get off and then panicking that they might be trapped on the train and miss there stop before running to another car to try a different door.

We crossed a long bridge, and finally arrived in Venice station shortly after noon. The hoards of people poured off the train, and into the streets. I grabbed a map, and hopped on a traghetto down the grand canal towards the piazza san marco. The view from the boat is nice, but I think a lot of the buildings could use a new coat of paint and some other standard maintenance. I guess the marine water must really erode the architecture.

There was a considerable crowd of people in the Piazza, and I decided that Id better book a hotel, or it might be a problem. The tourist office gave me a number for last minute reservation, and I had the hotel settled in no time and was back on the streets. First I went looking for food. I found a place selling an interesting pizza wrapped like one of those low carb things that they try to hawk off as being healthier than bread. But the pizza-wrap was pretty good, and I supplimented it with an apple as I walked the busy and narrow streets around the piazza. I headed towards the water all the way to the shipyards, but decided to work my way back via a different route. I came upon the leaning tower of Venice which is part of a church where they were having a wedding. I guess that getting married in this city could be any girls dream. I began to notice an interesting phenomena: There are a lot more females in venice than men. I noticed lots of small groups of american girls, both young and old. Im not exactly sure of the alure, but I guess it might have something to do with the water. (I also need to find the apostrophe on this keyboard!)

I climbed the tower back in the piazza san marco for a panoramic view of the city. I was surprised to fine a phone booth at the top. Im not quite sure who would be making phone calls from up there. I didnt see anyone use it... The view was impressive, but it is not entirely obvious how many canals there are from above because the building block the view of the ground. I guess flying over the city would be more interesting. Actually, I would like to go in a hot air balloon, but that is not yet an option. Maybe next time....

I worked my way around the city, relying heavily on my compass for direction, but still having to backtrack several times. It seems like the area around the piazza is a winding stripmall of painted masks and various glass paraphinalia with a focus on horses, dolphins, and gondolas. I guess the gondolas are OK, but I dont understand why they dont make something more italian. I must have asked 20 stores if they had a small glass soccer ball. But there were none to be found. I actually wonder how much of the glass is not made in china anyway.

I continued to meander my way westward and then north until I saw the main bridge over the grand canal. By now it was dark, and I spent some time trying to get a good photo of the lights of the bridge reflecting off the water, but I could not find the ideal location. I was beginning to get tired and began to look for dinner. But this area is also packed with tourists, and I thought it better to venture off into a quieter area. I saw a decent menu posted outside of a cafe in a large square somewhere west of the bridge, but when I went inside I was presented a rather different menu with prices about 2x those outside. I asked for the orriginal menu, and was given it, though I had second thoughts about remaining. However, the food was pretty good, and still came to 24 euros by the time you buy water, and pay the cover charge.

Walking home, I thought the lights on the water at night looked a lot like Epcot, but I guess it's really the other way around.

I’m sorry to have to leave you hanging, but I’m going to Pisa tomorrow to work with one of our partners for a week, and have to get to bed as I’m still tired from my adventures last weekend. I will say that out of 262 photos of Venice, I got at least 2 good shots, though I’m not calling National Geographic yet...

However, I am looking forward to this next trip to Pisa. This both my anticipation exploring a new part of Italy, and because I think these guys that I’m going to visit have done some interesting mechanical engineering. I should be able to learn at least a few things from them, and I hope they can also find value in my contributions.

Semper fi.