Week 13, Adventures in Toscana (Siena)
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
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
We crossed a long bridge, and finally arrived in
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
However, I am looking forward to this next trip to
Semper fi.
Como Revisited
Halloween was Tuesday, but there’s not much going on here for Halloween. I took the #823 bus to Colognio Nord and then the green metro line down to the Romolo stop in Milan to meet Tatsuo at a bar near the language school. When we reconvened with some of the others from our class last week at a “school function” they told us there would be a costume party here. I bought a pair of ugly looking teeth last minute just to have something. But this proved to be a bad choice because I was unable to speak intelligibly with this appendage, and didn’t end up wearing them much. We did the usual aperitivo routine for 5 euros and hung out with the other students.
At a certain point we were called in for the judging of the costumes. Somebody did some sort of a dance to thriller, and then they awarded 1 week of Italian lessons to the best-dressed student. I was starting to think about leaving, but met an American from Michigan and her boyfriend from Milan –an interesting duo!
I’m becoming more eager to befriend English-speaking people because we can get to know each other quicker and I’m a little weary of communication-restricted relations that are more typical of my Italian companions. I still have more to learn before I can really express myself in Italian, though I realize there is a contradiction within this approach in that I will never reach high level communication without practicing more with italain-speaking people, meanwhile it’s harder to get to know people without using some English. The ideal cases are my bilingual friends: Umberto, Verena, Paddy, and Maddy. However, there’s also some guys from the office that I see often enough that I think I’m getting to know fairly well.
So I was getting ready to leave head for the station to catch the last train to Monza at 12:30, but some of the guys from the school convinced me to stay. I actually wanted to stay later, but was a little concerned what to do if they didn’t have the endurance to stay out until the first trains of the morning around 5. However, they assured me that they wouldn’t wimp out, so I decided to stay.
I spent some more time talking to Megan and Stefano before we went to join the others from the school at another bar in the Navigli. Stefano was encouraging me to talk to other girls in the bar, so me and another guy picked out someone to try to meet. I think I understood about 6% of the conversation before giving up and gong back to people watching while the other guy continued to hit on this girl. Eventually they sat down together and I went back to Megan and Stefano. Then it was time to head to another place called Plastic. Megan and Stefano made the right choice in bailing out because there was a mob of people waiting to get in, and we waited outside for quite a while before deciding to go looking for something to eat. I exchanged some stories with 2 Brazilians that were with us, and before I knew it, it was time to get the 6:10 train back to Monza.
Nov 1 is a public holiday in Italy. I woke at noon -somewhat rested after the escapades of the night before. I had planned a lunch/dinner with the neighbors today. We had homemade gnocchi with tomato sauce and fresh ground Parmesan cheese. The secondo piatto era un carne alla California. This was a meat with an interesting lemon-onion glaze. Dessert was an apple cake, and coffee (of course). We talked about a number of things; the most interesting of which were Dante’s recollection of the Americans liberating Napoli in WWII. They also showed me a family artifact: a dictionary printed in 1877!
I had debated going to work Thursday and Friday because a number of people were taking off the first or second half of the week. Had I know sooner, I might have planned a trip to England, Spain, or Rome. When I awoke Thursday and saw it was arguably the most beautiful day I’ve seen in Italy I decided it would be a shame to spend it sitting in our gloomy office. I was telling Christine the other day that the lights bother some of the people sitting around me. Common guys…! Anyway, I decided to go to Como.
I wasted no time (except for a half hour waiting on a late train) to go to the outlooks over the lake in Brunate where the view was as spectacular as I had hoped. This turned out to be another day where I’d shoot 100+ photos hoping to get a couple of good ones. The challenge today was balancing blue sky with terrestrial resolution. It seems my camera will wash out the sky if the lighting is set for the land, or darken the land if the sky is in focus. I would like to know if this is a phenomenon unique to my camera, or if a better camera might be able to capture both bright and darker components of a scene. After a pannini for lunch, I had to decide if I would take a boat up the lake, or go somewhere else. Since it was pretty cold on the water I opted to head for the castle of San Vigilio above Bergamo to see what else I might see there on a really clear day. I was less impressed with this view, though I liked some piles of fallen leaves that had accumulated under the trees on top of the hill.
Fall is definitely here, and winter does not seem far off. I saw a forecast for snow in the Alps on Sunday, and many of our trees have already lost most of their leaves.
29 Oct, Week 11, Stresa
I was the only one in the street wearing shorts and a t-shirt even though it was a warm sunny day. I caught a few looks like I was doing something audacious as I marched off to the train station. I have yet to understand the absurd sensitivity towards any hint of cold among the Italians here, but I believe there is a psychophysical component influencing their selection of warm clothing. Since they’ve turned on the heat in the office, I find myself overheating to the point of wiping sweat from my brow with the sleeve of my shirt. It might be more than 80 degrees in there although others typically wear long sleeves and sometimes sweaters.
I caught a beautiful glimps of the castle of Arona across the lake from the train before disembarking in Stresa. Stresa is another small city on the shores of Lago Maggiore. It was already 1:30, so I made a bee-line for the lake. I felt a growing sense of excitement as I strode down the small lanes on the way to the water since it seems like it’s been a while since the last time I’ve ventured outside my usual domain. Stresa is a nice city, though I wouldn’t say it’s worth a visit if it didn’t have the lake.
Lago Maggiore is wider here than by Arona, and I could look across the expense of azure water to see the peaks of the Alps past the far shore. Today was probably clear enough to see snowcaps, but the foothills were cutting of my angle of sighte from here. Towards the end of the town I found the funicolare to ascend the nearby summit of Mottarone at 1491 meters. Given the near coincidence, I think mount Columbus might be a more appropriate name… The views from the cable car over forest reveled nature’s virtuoso. Here one could see pines interspersed with golden and cranberry-red trees before the backdrop of the lake and pointed mountains. I shot more than 100 photos, but forgot to buy a postcard for Jessica.
Among the mountain bikers and other passengers, there were 6 Americans on the cable car with me. 4 were older women that I could easily picture playing tennis with mom, and the other 2 were a couple from Ft. Lauderdale. I chuckled to myself a little as I heard them ask each other dumb questions like, “do we get out at the top, or does this thing just turn around?” After a little while I decided to share some of my knowledge, and my brochure of the hikes in the area.
From the peak you could really see far. I even heard someone say that one of the other lakes visible on the plains below was the Lago d’orta. I later confirmed the suspicion. I decided that I would try to walk down from the top instead of taking the cable car. The brochure said it would take 4 hours to climb, but the operator told me it would take about 2 ½ hours to walk down, so I’d make it just before dark. After about 30 minutes I found some old people that were looking for mushrooms. They had one large brown fungus in their basket, and didn’t know how much further it was to the halfway station. The trail was considerably more treacherous as I had anticipated as it was littered with apple-sized boulders that shifted under my feet as I rambled down the slope. I think the snugness of my new shoes is exasperated on a downhill grade, and as my feet began to hurt more and as the afternoon shadows stretched farther and farther away from the trees that created them I began to question my decision to walk down. I came upon some mountain bikers careening down the slopes, but when I asked them how much to go, one said 30 minutes, and the other 4 hours. In the end they agreed that if I kept moving I would reach the bottom. (Maybe they took one-too-many falls.)
I reached a clearing where another retired couple was resting on a rock while their feisty little dog ran amongst the trees. Near the edge of the clearing was a sinuous road with a dozen cows grazing on the other side. I heard their bells from afar, but had no idea what I was hearing. I was debating taking the road and trying to hitch a ride down the slope, but the couple pointed me towards a sign pointing back into the forest that said 2.15 to Stresa. They said I’d be fine, but had better not waste any time. I wondered if the 2.15 meant km, hours by foot, hours by bike, or the latest time someone should begin this trail....? The stones disappeared for a stretch, and I began to jog. If was going to have to race against the encroaching night, I’d better get moving because this whole side of the mountain was already in the shade.
I came to a sub-alpine meadow where I could see the wires of the cable car stretching over the valley. Using this as a reference I thought I might be able to orient myself on my little map, and get an idea how much more to go. I consulted my compass and found that the trail was going east, but to my dismay, the map did not indicate that the trail goes east. I pushed onward.
At the far edge of the meadow was a small green car. –Some sort of European attempt at a jeep. Inside I found a park ranger who told me just a half hour to go. I was relieved to hear more cowbells and find the midstation of the funivia soon after. I found the same Americans hanging around at the base when I arrived. We chatted for a minute, and then it was time for me to head back to the train station.
But a strange thing happened on the way back. I think a girl was trying to ask me to marry her!? I know this is one of those things people been teasing me about for a while, but it’s never happened before! I was walking along the path by the water back towards the train station, and this girl was going the opposite direction. After we passed, I got the sense that she stopped and turned around, and was following me. But I didn’t look back to see. After about 10 paces I felt a tap on the shoulder. It was her. I didn’t quite understand what she asked me; but it was something pertaining to the Fiera of Milano. I couldn’t figure out why she thought she knew me, but this wouldn’t be the first time I met someone I didn’t remember. She asked me some other generic questions and asked if we could sit down. I was pretty suspicious of this whole business, but there were a lot of other people walking around, so I couldn’t imagine that this was some sort of setup in the middle of the street. I continued to play along for a few more minutes as she pressed for an answer to why I don’t have a girlfriend.
This is an interesting question that triggered a bit of introspection. I’ve been pretty focused on working hard at school and haven’t really invested much time into relationships. Now I’m in Italy and struggle to communicate above an elementary level. She told me her dream is to get married and have children, and asked me what I thought about that. I told her I have a lot more traveling to do before I can let children slow me down, and that I should be heading towards the train station. She followed me a bit more to make sure we understood each other before saying goodbye.
28 Oct, Day 76, A “Normal Saturday”
Dear Blog, I woke as planned at 11:40 (without an alarm). I’m not exactly sure why I established 11:40 before going to bed, but I wanted to be sure to make it to the dry cleaners before they close at 12:30. So I ate some cereal and tidied a couple things around the house before picking up my shirt and pants dry-cleaned after the expectoration incident last week.
When inspecting the basil crop I found 3 caterpillars perfectly camouflaged amongst the leaves. (Well, maybe not perfectly because I found them…) But their hunger is damaging my crop and they had to be removed. I will be more vigilant for signs of other unlawful tenants because it’s coming time to harvest the crop and make a pesto from the leaves. My neighbor said hi while I was watering the plants and offered me some little pizzas -fresh from the oven, and invited me for lunch/dinner on Wednesday. Wednesday is a holiday, so I can attend if I don’t decide to do something else. I expect a great meal, so I will probably go, but I want to hold off on committing until Monday in case something else comes up. In any case, the onerous is back on me to come up with something to give them in exchange for the pizzas. I’m not sure I like this game of food-gift giving because I always feel like anything I try to make would be grossly inferior. However, I’m happy to purchase items of higher quality.
Then I decided to go for a jog to try to detox myself from last night. I went to dinner with some of the guys from work last, and I was pretty sure I’d regret eating the raw sausage spread on bread. But I’ve eaten plenty of other exotic things, and in a strange way I pride myself on the breadth of uncommon dishes I’ve tried. However, fighting a case of trichinosis is not my idea of a good time! However, I’m happy to report that there have been no signs of affliction yet.
The sun had come out after a long string of grey days, and since I’m between gym trials, I put on my running shoes and hit the road. I jogged out the park of Monza where I could hear the engines of the racecars in the autodromo. I think there’s some sort of Ferrari-racing event this week. Monza has a nice park. If I was writing a poem the park might be a patchwork quilt of grassy fields and shady woodlands speckled with lavish villas stitched together by wandering paths of crunchy gravel. I discovered the bocce courts where the old men never seem to get tired of arguing, and then started to head home though the gardens of the Villa Reale.
After showering, I decided it was time for a haircut since it’s been about 3 months, and it’s getting cold to leave the house with wet hair in the morning. I didn’t really know how to say a particular type of haircut, but only that I hadn’t cut it in 2 months, and it was getting too long. So the barber suggested a “a little shorter on the sides, and a little longer on the top” I agreed. He took his time and I think he did a pretty nice job although I’ve relinquished the long hair of my “California days.”
Next I went to fight with the guy at the tobacci shop for ripping me off on a phone card. I couldn’t get him to give me a refund or a new card, but found some satisfaction warning some other potential customers that he’d rip them off.
Next I went looking for a Halloween mask, found none, but bought a gelato, and ate it on the way back to my apartment. I called Patrick, and Australian living in Monza that I met a few weeks ago to see if he was watching the Derby tonight. The derby is the rivalry game between Milan on Inter. I guess it’s something like the Italian equivalent to the UM vs fsu showdown. Although he wasn’t interested in the game, we made dinner plans at 9. So I walked down the street to a bar called Cheers which has a couple of tv’s to watch the game on. I left at 8:50 when Inter was up 1-0. They ended up winning 4-3.
Patrick picked me up in front of the bar and we headed to his apartment in the northern part of the city. He made a few negronies to drink while I asked his girlfriend about the dinner she was working on. We started with an antipasto where I ate a breadstick wrapped in proschiuto. This configuration reminded me of a snack I used to make a long time ago. I remember wrapping salami around a green bean. I might have also used breadsticks, but the green bean was much more unique. I enjoyed talking about a number of topics in a mix of English and Italian while we enjoyed the antipasto, and then a steamy risotto made with a strong cheese. Then shrimp and pepper kabobs before dark chocolate and ginger cookies for dessert. I enjoyed the time together, and I hope we do meet up again. We made tentative plans for Sunday at Sere’s house.
A few of Monza's lesser-known charms
17 Oct, Day 65, The neighbors
I’m so far behind on the blog that I’m starting to forget what I wanted to say in the backlogged entries. I think I may have to change the model, and just write entries when I feel like writing instead of trying to write about everything.
In response to my sedentary lifestyle during the workweek, I’ve decided that I’m going to exercise at least twice a week. I started off with a free-be at the Palestra (fitness club) in my building. I would describe it as carino (cute) in comparison to a Ballys or LA Fitness. -Although I don’t think that the trainer was very pleased when I called his gym cute. Friday I went to OneFit, which I would describe as an adequate gym with a rather superfluous spa area which includes showers with perfumed water, a tanning oven, tea-drinking lounge, and a complete spectrum of other feminine treatments that I’m not interested in. Yesterday I went to Freesport. The first thing I noticed upon walking in was a distinct smell of gym-sweat. Gym sweat is a different thing from the stinky-people-that-don’t-bathe-enough sweat. I just read somewhere that it contains a steroid andrstenol, but it quickly breaks down into a hormone that people find more offensive after aerosolizing. But I don’t think that’s relevant to this discussion.
I greeted Marco, the receptionist, and explained that I’m looking for a gym for the next 5 months. He introduced me to another trainer, also named Marco. It seems to me that Marco is the most popular name amongst the Italians I deal with. There’s at lest 3 at work (excluding myself), now 2 at the gym. Anyway…
This is why I’m behind in the blog. I’ve written half a page and have yet to write anything I was meaning to write. Maybe this is the first sign of a changing mindset corresponding to my slackened activity level since moving here. –But the “changing mindset” debate is an entirely different topic from my agenda tonight.
2 weeks ago my neighbor gave me some dessert while I was sitting out on the balcony talking on the phone. Last weekend I went to Torino with Vicente, where I enjoyed strolling the wide boulevards of the city, saw a replica of the Shroud of Turin, and the box where they keep the real thing, had an awesome coffee, and bought some chocolate. I ate most of it on the Alta-Velocita train on the way back, but saved a few pieces for later. I decided it would be a nice gesture to offer the 3 remaining pieces to my neighbor as reciprocation for the homemade treats she gave me a week ago.
They didn’t open the door when I knocked on Sunday afternoon, and I was occupied Sunday evening at the Gamescapes digital art exposition, and then an aperitivo with Umberto and the Genova crew. Monza is hosting all sorts of weird video game history stuff in preparation of the World Cyber games later this week, but this exhibit was a joke. I was hoping for some surreal scenery like that which you might find on digitalblasphemy.com, or at least the quality of graphics you might find on a well-made PS2 game, but this was really a waste of time. Then we strolled around town for a bit, contemplated the window shoppers, ate some focaccia, had a look in the duomo and roman bridge ruins before deciding that it was time to move on. We went for the aperitivo at a bar called “Loft” which advertises itself as an American bar. I would hardly agree because American bars don’t do aperitivos. But we had a good time that digressed into an interesting discussion about childhood cartoons and eventually morphed into a short debate on if the Smurfs were a communist society
But upon my return from the gym yesterday I saw the neighbors outside and decided to offer them the remaining 3 chocolates. I don’t think you can give an Italian grandmother food without getting more in return. So I was invited in for some coffee and was instructed how to make the Tartufi di Castagne that I’d tried the week before. You start with 20 castagne lise fessate il sitoccio (boiled chestnuts chopped), add 50 gm zucchero, 100gm mandorle, 1 noce di burro, latte grenella di ciocolato de cacao amaro. (Add sugar, almond, butter, and bitter chocolate on top.) While we were working out the details of the recipe, I was tried some homemade cherry jam, pickled eggplant, and a strange fruit I think they call cachi, oregano, and canionlino (maybe bayleaf?). They remind me a bit of grandma and grandpa, and even have a grandchild about my age. With a little luck, I may be able to get a few cooking lessons from them when the return from Prague. But in the mean time I have to think of something to give in return for all this food I took home with me.
Some pictures of Torino from the weekend before
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