I am guilty. I have not written in a while, but I swear I have a good excuse. Quite simply: I had to wait for some stuff to happen. But these past two weeks have yielded some good stuff, so here is what's been goin' on:
Valentines Day was fantastic. For a holiday that is impossibly overrated in America, it is almost pleasant here. No big hooplah, not giant teddy bears, just a few hints from the lingerie stores and florists and thats about it. This being the first one Jo and I have had together, I did take it a little more seriously though. I scoped out the most romantic restaurant in town, even the right table for the evening. We get all snazzy, take the bus into town (high heels can be a bitch on the cobblestones) and stroll into a half empty, fully candlelit love palace of a restaurant. We are greeted with the brilliant smile of a young hostess, who innocently asks for the name of our reservation. A quick but easily decipherable conversation takes place between Joann and this girl. A conversation which ends with Jo giving me a little smirk. The boyfriend of the year did not make reservations for Valentines Day dinner. To be fair, it seemed as if this would not be a roadblock, I mean this city didn't even seem to notice that this was International Love Day (or so Hallmark has ingrained in my head). Jo is giggling as we walk away, but I am a little ashamed. And the next half an hour doesn't help. We walk into restaurant after restaurant, osteria after osteria, and are consistently laughed at for not having a reservation. I know these poeple are laughing because, c'mon who doesn't make a reservation for tonight, but I feel like they are laughing at me. I become mildly enraged (to cover my embarrassment), but we move on. We find a nice little restaurant just of the Piazza del Campo and enjoy a very nice dinner (the highlight being an Angus Carpaccio with White Truffle). Lubed up on wine and sated from the fresh meat, we head to a new pub called The Tea Room. This place is a find. Completely hidden away but packed at all times. They have the most extensive tea menu I have ever seen and will actually make us real cocktails, which I enjoy. I finally get a my first Bourbon and Ginger Ale in Italy and could not be happier about it. At this point our feet are killing us from the special occasion high heels (well, I had sympathy pains) and we head home completely satisfied with our first Valentines Day together realizing it is entirely possible and almost a certainty that we don't need a special day at all to be in love. Valentines Day seemed normal. I think because we have had so much practice.
School has started...for both of us, actually. Joann has nearly finished her month long accelerated Italian Grammar course, which she breezed through and has begun the real classes at the Universita Di Siena. She is (very happily) being challenged and learning a ton from these classes. I am mainly excited because she no longer has to go to school five days a week, but rather three. More time for us to hang out...this is a good thing. I have started classes as well. I learned of some free Italian language classes at a community center and have started to attend. The place is called Corte dei Miracolo (center of miracles). This logically leads me to believe that this is where Jesus of Nazareth chose to study (sometime between the ages of 18 and 33)...I mean its the CENTER OF MIRACLES, an obvious choice for he who is called I Am. This is both exhilarating and discouraging. The former because its almost as cool as telling people that Dave Grohl (Nirvana;Foo Fighters) went to my high school (fact). It is however discouraging because something tells me that no matter how much progress I make, I will likely not be the most accomplished or revered student to study here. (Corte dei Miracolo supports none of the above speculation by the way). Honestly, it is a really good class. It is filled with people of all ages from numerous countries, whom all speak better Italian than me, but are very accepting. I, we, are learning a lot every day.
We went to our first soccer game. Siena vs. Torino. It was so much fun, but freezing. Once the sun sets on the stadium it is close to sub zero. The match itself was only mildly interesting, but ended in a 0-0 tie. We cheered mightily for Siena, and in the Torino section for that matter, which it turned out can be life threatening, but we survived. Soccer (or Calcio) here is a religion, and sundays is when they go to church. At around 3 pm on any given Sunday, every cafe is packed with screaming fans who live and die by their team. It is fun to participate in this, but I don't quite know how to curse properly in Italian yet, so screaming during the matches is out of the question thus far.
I played soccer...well, calcio. If you can believe that. My fat, lazy ass got out and played with some friends, all of whom are Brazilian or Italian. The conversation on the walk to the field went something like this:
Flavio: Jay, you are about to play with the best in the world. The champions. Italians and Brazilians.
Me: And you will soon know why American soccer is not respected.
But something amazing happens. I HOLD MY OWN. It should be said that this is not a full soccer field, but rather a thunder dome of calcio made for 5 on 5 action and caged in. It is, of course, in the backyard of a church, and literally looks like it would be a place to play in EA SPORTS FIFA STREET 2008. Its perfectly worn and dirty and run down. The game makes me feel involved, more than I can say for any sport I have played since 7th grade. I run, I pass, I shoot, I SCORE...an own goal, I run some more, I nearly puke, and then...I am chalking this one up to my lessons at Miracle school...I. JAY ZIMMERMAN. SCORE. A. GOAL. And it wasn't trash either...full on legit. I was glowing. We finish up and my new friend Daniel and I decide to go for a beer. This is when he informs me that he has been recruited by FC ROMA (one of the best soccer teams on earth) from his home in Brazil to be groomed for their starting squad. Needless to say, he was taking it easy on us out there on the field. Either way, I am very pleased with my performance and need to celebrate...and thats where Jerry Lee Lewis comes in.
Our favorite little bar, The Dublin Post, has decided to host a Rock and Roll night. Complete with Jerry Lee Lewis cover band. This is very exciting to me. We meet up with all of our friends at one of their apartments to pre game and head on over to the packed bar. I am in no shape to drive a car, but am fully prepared to steer this party straight into a frenzy. We grab a bottle of wine and head to the front of the crowd. In seconds we are dancing like madmen, swigging a bottle of pinot with the band and just having the time of our lives. It is packed and it is sweaty and it is loud and it is perfect. Somehow, in the mix of everything, my friend Heraldo's greaser wig has made its may to my bald head and I am being beckoned by the lead singer to join him. Thanks to Joann. I cat call the crowd until they are chanting my name, fists pumping and dancing on the tables....and I proceed to belt out the greatest version of Earth Angel that I could muster. As I canted the last bars of that really amazing song, I fall back into the waiting arms of my friends and become (likely) the first person to crowd surf this little Irish pub. It was an amazingly fun night.
I get an email from a close DJ friend of mine from New York, DJ Berrie...he is going to be spinning in Florence this week. Jo and I decide to take the hour long bus ride to Florence to see our first "American visitor" and have an actual night out at a club. Something we have not done since we arrived here. We arrive early in Florence and are able to have a full day to explore more of this amazing city. We do something Joann never did when she studied here and climb to the very top of the dome of the Duomo. This is a feat. It includes hundreds and hundreds of steps in tiny stone spiral staircases, but the view is worth the trek. It is breathtaking up there. You can see the expanse of Florence, it is actually quite large, and all of the landmarks from up there. We spend a few minutes soaking up the view and breathing in the thinner air before we climb back down. On the way up the stairs you make a little pitstop IN the dome and see the frescoes up close, which is really cool. When I mean up close, I mean you see the brush strokes of this masterpiece. And the way the dome was painted it is a scene that is all hellfire and brimstone on the bottom and then the characters and scenery rises into a heavenly depiction as the dome peaks. The references of the ascension into heaven from the darker base of hell is obvious, but in a twist that seems entirely too un-catholic, there are more people depicted in heaven than in hell, and its mostly animals and children residing with Lucifer and co. Either way, I find the hellacious creatures more intriguing and am lucky to get better pictures of them (Cerberus and skeletons and the like). From the Duomo we stroll around only half-shopping, until that is we stroll into the right store. We mutually decide that we have to take a gun and once and for all kill the elephant that has been residing in our room since we arrived.
Joann buys her first pair of shoes in Italy.
They are quite nice and it is a good feeling to have this first step behind us. We stop by the real church in Florence, Gucci, for a minute to tease ourselves then head back to the hostel for a quick nap before dinner. We meet up with Berrie and his manager for dinner at, of all places, Acqua Al Due (see the Florence blog). We are excited to return to this really great restaurant. This time around we decide to try the Blueberry steak, instead of the famed balsamic variety that we enjoyed so much last time. Gabriela, I am sorry to say this...but it was just as good, if not better. I never thought steak and blueberry sauce ("A1 and Blueberries" as DJ Berrie described it) could be so damn scrumptious. But it was and we were truly happy with the meal here once again. We were now ready to hit the club and start our night out on the town.
Its true that we were spoiled by the clubs in New York and Miami, and are probably too critical of the quality of clubs here, but this place turns out to be kind of nice and will draw a bottle-service guzzling band of American exchange students, so it will feel like home. Having grown up a little now, I see how close to being socially unacceptable college students can be, but the night goes smoothly. As usual, Berrie plays a set that has the room in a frenzy of dancing, drinking and erotic rubbing. The place is going nuts for this kid. I resume my managerial post (force of habit) behind Berrie in the DJ Booth...and decide to grab the microphone. It may not have been the right thing to do, but it seemed appropriate at the time and Berrie was into it, so I went ahead. I was every New York City radio DJ I always hated, but was truly enjoying myself..."DJ BERRIE IN THE PLACE....PUT YOUR HAND UP FLORENCE, WHERE YOU AT?"...as with most things I do, I cringe in hindsight, but have no regrets.
So that pretty much brings up up to date. We will continue with school and I am getting closer to finding work, but not closer to not being deported (yet).
Until the next.
CHECK OU T THE PICS
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
Friday, February 15, 2008
PIctures....
OK, so what I am going to do i post all the pics form our adventure on Flickr...a free photo website....since I am an idiot and cannot get it to work on Blogger......so at the end of the entries....try and check out the link to the FlickR site and see our pics!!!
Happy Valentines Day from both of us!!!
CHECK OUT THESE PICTURES
Happy Valentines Day from both of us!!!
CHECK OUT THESE PICTURES
Thursday, February 7, 2008
Two Streams Diverged in a City (or The Mothership of the Motherland)
Joann and I have started to effectively tackle Italy city by city at this point, so when there is a special event in a place where we have not yet been, it is a no-brainer for us to travel there. This is how Venice presented itself. Every year in Italy (though I thought it was an original batch Brazilian thing) they have Carnivale. A week and a half long celebration that culminates on Fat Tuesday (Mardi Gras in French), a debaucherous 10 days to get all of your good sinnin’ out before Lent (or for us Hebrews, simply a great excuse to party). I am unsure of the world wide history, but the nucleus of the atom they call Carnivale in Italy is in Vence. This celebration involves a few things. Most places have big parades (kind of difficult in the aquarian city streets of Venice) but EVERYONE dresses up in costume. And Venetians DRESS UP. We are not talking some stupid costumes or ironic T-Shirts, I mean full on capes, three-point hats, and gorgeous masks. Think Eyes Wide Shut orgy scene….but an entire city.
Joann and I are up crazy early in anticipation of the 5 hour train ride to Venice. On a bus to the train station (we have learned neither to walk nor pay for the bus as no one checks your tickets) by 8 am and on the train by 8:45. The train ride is uneventful and we arrive in Venice by 2 pm. A few quick questions to locals and a few wrong turns and we find out Hostel, our home for the next two nights. Its nice and clean…something tells me we have been pretty lucky with hostels up to this point. We drop off our stuff and hit the town. Venice is deceivingly big. Much larger than Siena and bigger than Florence even, or so it seems. Because of the gorgeous water ways that act as streets but are remarkably ineffective for travel, navigating the city is a feat. Everything is very linear. There is only one way from point A to point B, no shortcuts or little alleys…you go the same way everyone does…and it just so happens that where we are staying is about a far away from the action as is possible. We are used to hikes at this point though, so it does not seem such a big deal. This walkway shortcoming is perhaps the only bad thing I can say about Venice however, The place is simply gorgeous. And even though they are more nuisance than navigateble, the water ways are pretty. We make the trek through the small markets and tiny little streets all the way to the other side of the town to the Rialto (the major bridge in Venice). The Rialto is cool and crowded, and offers nothing short of postcard worthy views of Venice. Form there we hang a hard left and head for the famed Piazza San Marco. This is by far the most stunning of the Piazzas we have encountered thus far. For one thing it is the only open expanse in Venice. Top that with a Duomo that is almost literally breathtaking, a population of Pigeons that outnumber the humans, and a view out into the ocean that is flawless. This place quickly became a favorite.
We opt to save the Duomo (which Joann promises will change me) for tomorrow and continue to wander around through the crowds that is a pleasant mix of tourist and Venetians in decadent costume. My excitement for the nighttime is growing and we decide we will go all out…full costume for both of us tonight. Joann starts if off right…she finds an almost too pleasant Czech exchange student who is making extra money by painting faces for kids and utilizes her expertise. She gets a really pretty beautiful red, green, and gold glitter piece done across half of her face (all while I stand behind this girl trying to make Joann laugh as she meticulously adds layers of face paint and glitter). With the celebratory cosmetics done we decide to head back toward the Rialto to piece together our costumes for the evening. Jo settles on a beautiful little purple cape and a pink feathered half mask while I go with a black cape, black three point hat and a red mask. We look cool and are ready to celebrate with the hoards of locals.
We drink some wine at our hostel while getting ready (I will admit to letting Joann put some eye make-up on me…for effect, I swear) and head out on the town around 10 pm. We opt for the water taxi this time and get a tour of Venice by nightfall on the water on the cheap. About half an hour later we arrive at our destination (Piazza San Marco) and are giddily skipping along to the center while we hear the roar of booming house music coming from this womb of celebration. The Piazza is lit up like a U2 concert and there is a show on the main stage that we can’t quite make out. Feeling a bit tipsy from the wine, I start to dance around like an idiot. That is until I get closer to the stage. At this point a few things dawn on myself and Joann. The revelations come in this order:
1. The show on stage is a drag show. Not a big deal, if nothing else gay men at Carnevale will throw a great party.
2. The crowd is about 1/8th the size that we were anticipating. The Piazza is by no means packed.
3. We. Are. The. Only. People. In. Costume.
I mean there were a few drunk stragglers form the (uber) expensive balls that were stumbling home through the Piazza in period clothing, but by and large we are the only ones who have come to party in costume. I have to laugh at this and instead of getting down about this decided lack of spirit on the part of the Venetians, I simply start to dance around like an idiot again. The show ends almost as soon as we get there, so we head to the back of the Piazza to enjoy some mulled wine. I love this stuff; no one else in the area seems to. We meet some American girls from Cali and some local Venice boys decide to head to a “club” called Il Piccolo Monde (the small world). Italian clubs are funny places. Perhaps I have been a bit spoiled in Miami and New York but I swear on my life that these places are nothing more than a really nice finished basement. Which you pay a10 Euro cover to get in. We last one drink and three songs and hit the water taxi to head home. I ceremoniously left my hat and cape in the disco.
We get some bad news. Joann’s Nonna (grandmother) has fallen in ill in Sicily. We decide to audible and head there immediately. We leave around 2 pm so we get up early to catch a morning in Venice. We head immediately to Piazza San Marco and into the Duomo. This place, this “house of God”, is so decadently beautiful and is an achievement of Gothic art. The entire building is a mosaic. And the building is massive, Top to bottom, the most awe inspiring, gold inlayed, mosaics depicting everything from the annunciation to the birth of (8 lb, 10 oz) Baby Jesus, to the apostles, etc. It truly was moving and inspiring. It now tops my Duomo list, if only by a whisker over Siena’s. We walk around a bit more and window shop the big ones (Prada, Dolce, Fendi) and I have to, once again, help Joann escape the clutches of Gucci. Something tells me this will be either a Phyrric victory or just an all out, gloves off brawl once we get to Milan.
We are booking it to the airport and make it in time. We are headed for Sicily. The mothership of the motherland. The essence of Italy (for a few reasons). I am excited. Joann is acting as if she has been granted the chance to breathe again; the chance to recharge her batteries in a way only Sicily can.
We get there late (after a 3 hour lay over in Rome) and quickly meet her cousin Nino and Zia Caterina at the airport.
I do not want to talk about anyone in either of our families in this blog specifically (I just don’t see the angle in it), so I will simply say this. Most of our time was spent with family in Sicily. And EVERYONE was so amazingly hospitable, nice, loving, accepting and patient with me. I felt immediately at home in a place that is about as far away from where my childhood home as you can get. I could not thank them enough for bringing me into their homes, feeding me (whoa…the food), and loving me. It was special and really great for me…and on top of everything else, since only a few spoke broken English, my Italian was forced to step up its game…it was like a great, week-long crash course.
Anyhow, more about Sicily. I finally understand why the Mafia left here for the far reaches of New York City and Chicago…and its not because this place is not gorgeous. It is, the landscape could have housed the next installment of the Lord of the Rings (just with more farms). Rolling mountains, tiny villages everywhere and a coastline that rivals southern California. The mobsters left because they were bored. I say this delicately and with love in my heart (and knee caps), but there is very, very little to do in Sicily. Jo and I would take walks everyday to pass the time. OK, maybe I should not say there is little to do. There is one very important thing to do all the time…eat. It really feels like the entire time you are in Sicily you are only killing time between meals. And the food is to die for. It quickly becomes apparent where Joann gets her culinary ability (and dishes) from…everything I had heard about or attempted to re-create in my kitchen in Miami was presented to me on a platter (everything is on a platter) and in all of its succulent, delicious glory. Sausages, Broccoli Rabe, Veal, Pastas, Cakes, Meatballs (!), Chicken like I have not had….it was all amazing. And the best part of it all, was that everything we had was so authentically home-cooked. Not in a hidden kitchen at a restaurant. It made in front of my face and then quickly stuffed down it. The only way to get my attention eventually became to say, “MANGIA, JAY,MANGIA!”. (quick funny story about Nino. Joann’s first cousin Lina’s husband. He spoke no English whatsoever, but was impossibly sweet. And for the life of him he could not get my name straight the entire week I was there…”more wine, james?”…”Mangia, Jim, Mangia”…Joe, Jack. Jon, JANE (!), it went on and on….everyone got a kick out of it including me).
We eat, sleep and explore our way through a week of Sicily and love it. Then comes Sunday. We go to a town up in the mountains with some of Jo’s cousins, to meet more cousins, for Carnivale. We come upon a full on party and parade. Literally this place was Mardi Gras (New Orleans style) for kids. Small streets with balconies and snow-drifts of confetti. Instead of beer and boobies, its silly string and streamers. It is what I imagine Mardi Gras in New Orleans would be like if the Fench Quarter had an inkling of morality. It was a lot of fun and a sight to see. We went to Joann’s cousin’s pizzeria, aptly called “Good Pizza” and ate like…well, like family. It seems I have found what my Jewish and her Sicilian family absolutely have in common….as soon as you walk in the door (any door, for that matter), you are asked if you are hungry and a meal is already half prepared.
We leave for Calatafima (where we have been staying) in time to catch the Super Bowl on sattelite TV. Some other NFC East teams wins. Joann is happy. I am indifferent. Joann is upset that I am indifferent. Such is the life of a Redskins fan.
We visit Joann’s Nonna one more time before we leave and he is exponentially better. Up, conversing and interrogating me about how I am going to provide for Joann. I feel oddly comfortable with the whole thing….somehow I think I have heard this conversation before. Nino picks us up and drives us to the airport. As he hugs and kisses us goodbye, he emphatically says to me, “ Buon Viaggio, Jay”.
Back to Siena by 10 pm and early to bed…tomorrow is the first day of school.
CLICK HERE FOR THE PICS!
Joann and I are up crazy early in anticipation of the 5 hour train ride to Venice. On a bus to the train station (we have learned neither to walk nor pay for the bus as no one checks your tickets) by 8 am and on the train by 8:45. The train ride is uneventful and we arrive in Venice by 2 pm. A few quick questions to locals and a few wrong turns and we find out Hostel, our home for the next two nights. Its nice and clean…something tells me we have been pretty lucky with hostels up to this point. We drop off our stuff and hit the town. Venice is deceivingly big. Much larger than Siena and bigger than Florence even, or so it seems. Because of the gorgeous water ways that act as streets but are remarkably ineffective for travel, navigating the city is a feat. Everything is very linear. There is only one way from point A to point B, no shortcuts or little alleys…you go the same way everyone does…and it just so happens that where we are staying is about a far away from the action as is possible. We are used to hikes at this point though, so it does not seem such a big deal. This walkway shortcoming is perhaps the only bad thing I can say about Venice however, The place is simply gorgeous. And even though they are more nuisance than navigateble, the water ways are pretty. We make the trek through the small markets and tiny little streets all the way to the other side of the town to the Rialto (the major bridge in Venice). The Rialto is cool and crowded, and offers nothing short of postcard worthy views of Venice. Form there we hang a hard left and head for the famed Piazza San Marco. This is by far the most stunning of the Piazzas we have encountered thus far. For one thing it is the only open expanse in Venice. Top that with a Duomo that is almost literally breathtaking, a population of Pigeons that outnumber the humans, and a view out into the ocean that is flawless. This place quickly became a favorite.
We opt to save the Duomo (which Joann promises will change me) for tomorrow and continue to wander around through the crowds that is a pleasant mix of tourist and Venetians in decadent costume. My excitement for the nighttime is growing and we decide we will go all out…full costume for both of us tonight. Joann starts if off right…she finds an almost too pleasant Czech exchange student who is making extra money by painting faces for kids and utilizes her expertise. She gets a really pretty beautiful red, green, and gold glitter piece done across half of her face (all while I stand behind this girl trying to make Joann laugh as she meticulously adds layers of face paint and glitter). With the celebratory cosmetics done we decide to head back toward the Rialto to piece together our costumes for the evening. Jo settles on a beautiful little purple cape and a pink feathered half mask while I go with a black cape, black three point hat and a red mask. We look cool and are ready to celebrate with the hoards of locals.
We drink some wine at our hostel while getting ready (I will admit to letting Joann put some eye make-up on me…for effect, I swear) and head out on the town around 10 pm. We opt for the water taxi this time and get a tour of Venice by nightfall on the water on the cheap. About half an hour later we arrive at our destination (Piazza San Marco) and are giddily skipping along to the center while we hear the roar of booming house music coming from this womb of celebration. The Piazza is lit up like a U2 concert and there is a show on the main stage that we can’t quite make out. Feeling a bit tipsy from the wine, I start to dance around like an idiot. That is until I get closer to the stage. At this point a few things dawn on myself and Joann. The revelations come in this order:
1. The show on stage is a drag show. Not a big deal, if nothing else gay men at Carnevale will throw a great party.
2. The crowd is about 1/8th the size that we were anticipating. The Piazza is by no means packed.
3. We. Are. The. Only. People. In. Costume.
I mean there were a few drunk stragglers form the (uber) expensive balls that were stumbling home through the Piazza in period clothing, but by and large we are the only ones who have come to party in costume. I have to laugh at this and instead of getting down about this decided lack of spirit on the part of the Venetians, I simply start to dance around like an idiot again. The show ends almost as soon as we get there, so we head to the back of the Piazza to enjoy some mulled wine. I love this stuff; no one else in the area seems to. We meet some American girls from Cali and some local Venice boys decide to head to a “club” called Il Piccolo Monde (the small world). Italian clubs are funny places. Perhaps I have been a bit spoiled in Miami and New York but I swear on my life that these places are nothing more than a really nice finished basement. Which you pay a10 Euro cover to get in. We last one drink and three songs and hit the water taxi to head home. I ceremoniously left my hat and cape in the disco.
We get some bad news. Joann’s Nonna (grandmother) has fallen in ill in Sicily. We decide to audible and head there immediately. We leave around 2 pm so we get up early to catch a morning in Venice. We head immediately to Piazza San Marco and into the Duomo. This place, this “house of God”, is so decadently beautiful and is an achievement of Gothic art. The entire building is a mosaic. And the building is massive, Top to bottom, the most awe inspiring, gold inlayed, mosaics depicting everything from the annunciation to the birth of (8 lb, 10 oz) Baby Jesus, to the apostles, etc. It truly was moving and inspiring. It now tops my Duomo list, if only by a whisker over Siena’s. We walk around a bit more and window shop the big ones (Prada, Dolce, Fendi) and I have to, once again, help Joann escape the clutches of Gucci. Something tells me this will be either a Phyrric victory or just an all out, gloves off brawl once we get to Milan.
We are booking it to the airport and make it in time. We are headed for Sicily. The mothership of the motherland. The essence of Italy (for a few reasons). I am excited. Joann is acting as if she has been granted the chance to breathe again; the chance to recharge her batteries in a way only Sicily can.
We get there late (after a 3 hour lay over in Rome) and quickly meet her cousin Nino and Zia Caterina at the airport.
I do not want to talk about anyone in either of our families in this blog specifically (I just don’t see the angle in it), so I will simply say this. Most of our time was spent with family in Sicily. And EVERYONE was so amazingly hospitable, nice, loving, accepting and patient with me. I felt immediately at home in a place that is about as far away from where my childhood home as you can get. I could not thank them enough for bringing me into their homes, feeding me (whoa…the food), and loving me. It was special and really great for me…and on top of everything else, since only a few spoke broken English, my Italian was forced to step up its game…it was like a great, week-long crash course.
Anyhow, more about Sicily. I finally understand why the Mafia left here for the far reaches of New York City and Chicago…and its not because this place is not gorgeous. It is, the landscape could have housed the next installment of the Lord of the Rings (just with more farms). Rolling mountains, tiny villages everywhere and a coastline that rivals southern California. The mobsters left because they were bored. I say this delicately and with love in my heart (and knee caps), but there is very, very little to do in Sicily. Jo and I would take walks everyday to pass the time. OK, maybe I should not say there is little to do. There is one very important thing to do all the time…eat. It really feels like the entire time you are in Sicily you are only killing time between meals. And the food is to die for. It quickly becomes apparent where Joann gets her culinary ability (and dishes) from…everything I had heard about or attempted to re-create in my kitchen in Miami was presented to me on a platter (everything is on a platter) and in all of its succulent, delicious glory. Sausages, Broccoli Rabe, Veal, Pastas, Cakes, Meatballs (!), Chicken like I have not had….it was all amazing. And the best part of it all, was that everything we had was so authentically home-cooked. Not in a hidden kitchen at a restaurant. It made in front of my face and then quickly stuffed down it. The only way to get my attention eventually became to say, “MANGIA, JAY,MANGIA!”. (quick funny story about Nino. Joann’s first cousin Lina’s husband. He spoke no English whatsoever, but was impossibly sweet. And for the life of him he could not get my name straight the entire week I was there…”more wine, james?”…”Mangia, Jim, Mangia”…Joe, Jack. Jon, JANE (!), it went on and on….everyone got a kick out of it including me).
We eat, sleep and explore our way through a week of Sicily and love it. Then comes Sunday. We go to a town up in the mountains with some of Jo’s cousins, to meet more cousins, for Carnivale. We come upon a full on party and parade. Literally this place was Mardi Gras (New Orleans style) for kids. Small streets with balconies and snow-drifts of confetti. Instead of beer and boobies, its silly string and streamers. It is what I imagine Mardi Gras in New Orleans would be like if the Fench Quarter had an inkling of morality. It was a lot of fun and a sight to see. We went to Joann’s cousin’s pizzeria, aptly called “Good Pizza” and ate like…well, like family. It seems I have found what my Jewish and her Sicilian family absolutely have in common….as soon as you walk in the door (any door, for that matter), you are asked if you are hungry and a meal is already half prepared.
We leave for Calatafima (where we have been staying) in time to catch the Super Bowl on sattelite TV. Some other NFC East teams wins. Joann is happy. I am indifferent. Joann is upset that I am indifferent. Such is the life of a Redskins fan.
We visit Joann’s Nonna one more time before we leave and he is exponentially better. Up, conversing and interrogating me about how I am going to provide for Joann. I feel oddly comfortable with the whole thing….somehow I think I have heard this conversation before. Nino picks us up and drives us to the airport. As he hugs and kisses us goodbye, he emphatically says to me, “ Buon Viaggio, Jay”.
Back to Siena by 10 pm and early to bed…tomorrow is the first day of school.
CLICK HERE FOR THE PICS!
Wednesday, February 6, 2008
David and Teds Excellent Adventure
Florence…
Ok guys, its Joann time….aka the “Florence Blog” which I have been nominated to write because of my expertise or just plain obsession for this city. As most of you know, I studied in Florence about six years ago (ouch!) and ever since I left I swore to myself that I would return….
So as you read in the previous blog, Jay and I “accidentally” ended up in Florence after a beautiful afternoon in Pisa, so of course we had to stay for dinner and make the best of it, unfortunately though, for me, it was only a few hours so we decided that we would go back in the near future…
So its 11am and of course we’re up late, but we make our way to the piazza where most of the buses going out of town make their stops. We hop on a bus and are on our way… The ride goes by fast,,,its about the same time as going from Staten Island into the city…(for all my SI folk). We arrive and the first stop is to see Michaelangelo’s “David.” I swear, I think even Jay fell in love with him. Its inevitable, people just stand around him and cant help but stare at his huge…head! Seriously, it is said that Michaelangelo did in fact make David’s torso and head bigger in proportion to the rest of his body so that us little people, looking at him from down under could see him in the right proportion. Oh wait, before I move on to our second stop, I wanted to share with you a little story, which explains how serious people really are about the David. After sneaking in a few fantastic pictures of him we walk around and take a seat right behind him. While admiring his backside, a girl sitting next to Jay asks “How tall do you think he is?” Jay answers: “Maybe about 20-30 feet?”, she nods and turns back around. Jay then, innocently assuming that he could perhaps continue the friendly exchange says: “hey, don’t you think he looks like Bill, from Bill and Ted’s excellent adventure??” At this point, the girl turns around and says with the most disgusted look on her face: “NO” and turns back around, tending to her business at which point Jay turns to me and insists that we must leave. (Sidenote: William S. Preston, Esquire was a very handsome man. I meant this as a compliment and this woman looked at me as if I had kidnapped her children. Don’t fuck with the David. Lesson learned.)
Next stop is the Duomo. Just as I had left it. Beautiful as all h-e-double hockey sticks. We looked around and we exited, then walked passed the Basilica where Dante Alighieri was baptized and even his house!! Then made our way to Piazza Signoria which is probably my favorite Piazza. In this piazza you will find a replica of the David, as well as a sculpture of Neptune in a puddle of water holding something and then Jay’s favorite which was Persius holding Medusa’s head…aaahhh the connection he must have felt with that one…
We decide to skip the Uffizzi today and choose instead to enjoy the sun setting over the Ponte Vecchio (only bridge to withhold the bombs from the Germans in WW! And also the home and eventual secret hallway for the ever commanding Medici Family of Florence)…talk about georgeous. Seriously.
So I make reservations that night to Acqua al Due, which is a pretty amazing restaurant, not a very extensive menu, but all the essentials…farfarle with truffles and porchini mushrooms, well…at least that’s all we really cared about and then the main course which we both had. The Balsamic Steak. Yes Gaby, the Balsamic Steak! Needless to say I have had this steak once before and have not managed to get it out of my head especially when I am suddenly faced with a menu of the finest steaks from the Outback. So after dinner we get a drink at a club which ever so conveniently was across the street (yes, only one drink!) and called it a night….we have to get up early for Boticelli at the Uffizzi!
Did I mention that we stayed at this fabulous hostel? 40 euros for the night and we had our own spotless bedroom and bathroom, I mean of course we had to haggle with the guy a little, but hey it worked out!)Italy is funny, you will find the oldest hotels/hostels ever, literally built before the Renaissance but at least you know it’ll be clean.
Our last stop the next moring, after brunch on the Piazza is the Uffizzi, Jay cant wait and I am super excited once again. It’s funny, every time I see something for the second time, I feel like I didn’t appreciate it enough the first time…hmmmm…We are now on our way to see the best Rennaisance art collection anywhere I know of. Boticelli,’s “Birth of Venus” and “Spring” Leonardo DaVinci’s “Annunciation”, Artemisia Gentileschi’s depiction of Holfernus being beheaded by a couple of angry women, it was truly amazing and my favorite and not because of the violence but because Artemisia is also one of subjects of my favorite Italian novel by Anna Banti The novel “Artemisia” is riveting and I highly recommend it. Oh yea, and let me not forget the amazing Michaelangelo, Giotto as well as many m
any more… Jays favorite was the depition of the Seven Virtues by several artists including Boticelli. I think I could say with confidence that he was impressed as any well bread person should be.
Florence was as georgeous as I had remembered, but all the more exciting as it was truly a joy for me to experience everything with Jay, it just added an extra something.
Its time for us to go home now. We make our way to the bus station and head back to our apartment in the beautiful medievel Siena over looking the mountains of Tuscany that we now call home…
CLICK HERE FOR LAS PICTURAS
Ok guys, its Joann time….aka the “Florence Blog” which I have been nominated to write because of my expertise or just plain obsession for this city. As most of you know, I studied in Florence about six years ago (ouch!) and ever since I left I swore to myself that I would return….
So as you read in the previous blog, Jay and I “accidentally” ended up in Florence after a beautiful afternoon in Pisa, so of course we had to stay for dinner and make the best of it, unfortunately though, for me, it was only a few hours so we decided that we would go back in the near future…
So its 11am and of course we’re up late, but we make our way to the piazza where most of the buses going out of town make their stops. We hop on a bus and are on our way… The ride goes by fast,,,its about the same time as going from Staten Island into the city…(for all my SI folk). We arrive and the first stop is to see Michaelangelo’s “David.” I swear, I think even Jay fell in love with him. Its inevitable, people just stand around him and cant help but stare at his huge…head! Seriously, it is said that Michaelangelo did in fact make David’s torso and head bigger in proportion to the rest of his body so that us little people, looking at him from down under could see him in the right proportion. Oh wait, before I move on to our second stop, I wanted to share with you a little story, which explains how serious people really are about the David. After sneaking in a few fantastic pictures of him we walk around and take a seat right behind him. While admiring his backside, a girl sitting next to Jay asks “How tall do you think he is?” Jay answers: “Maybe about 20-30 feet?”, she nods and turns back around. Jay then, innocently assuming that he could perhaps continue the friendly exchange says: “hey, don’t you think he looks like Bill, from Bill and Ted’s excellent adventure??” At this point, the girl turns around and says with the most disgusted look on her face: “NO” and turns back around, tending to her business at which point Jay turns to me and insists that we must leave. (Sidenote: William S. Preston, Esquire was a very handsome man. I meant this as a compliment and this woman looked at me as if I had kidnapped her children. Don’t fuck with the David. Lesson learned.)
Next stop is the Duomo. Just as I had left it. Beautiful as all h-e-double hockey sticks. We looked around and we exited, then walked passed the Basilica where Dante Alighieri was baptized and even his house!! Then made our way to Piazza Signoria which is probably my favorite Piazza. In this piazza you will find a replica of the David, as well as a sculpture of Neptune in a puddle of water holding something and then Jay’s favorite which was Persius holding Medusa’s head…aaahhh the connection he must have felt with that one…
We decide to skip the Uffizzi today and choose instead to enjoy the sun setting over the Ponte Vecchio (only bridge to withhold the bombs from the Germans in WW! And also the home and eventual secret hallway for the ever commanding Medici Family of Florence)…talk about georgeous. Seriously.
So I make reservations that night to Acqua al Due, which is a pretty amazing restaurant, not a very extensive menu, but all the essentials…farfarle with truffles and porchini mushrooms, well…at least that’s all we really cared about and then the main course which we both had. The Balsamic Steak. Yes Gaby, the Balsamic Steak! Needless to say I have had this steak once before and have not managed to get it out of my head especially when I am suddenly faced with a menu of the finest steaks from the Outback. So after dinner we get a drink at a club which ever so conveniently was across the street (yes, only one drink!) and called it a night….we have to get up early for Boticelli at the Uffizzi!
Did I mention that we stayed at this fabulous hostel? 40 euros for the night and we had our own spotless bedroom and bathroom, I mean of course we had to haggle with the guy a little, but hey it worked out!)Italy is funny, you will find the oldest hotels/hostels ever, literally built before the Renaissance but at least you know it’ll be clean.
Our last stop the next moring, after brunch on the Piazza is the Uffizzi, Jay cant wait and I am super excited once again. It’s funny, every time I see something for the second time, I feel like I didn’t appreciate it enough the first time…hmmmm…We are now on our way to see the best Rennaisance art collection anywhere I know of. Boticelli,’s “Birth of Venus” and “Spring” Leonardo DaVinci’s “Annunciation”, Artemisia Gentileschi’s depiction of Holfernus being beheaded by a couple of angry women, it was truly amazing and my favorite and not because of the violence but because Artemisia is also one of subjects of my favorite Italian novel by Anna Banti The novel “Artemisia” is riveting and I highly recommend it. Oh yea, and let me not forget the amazing Michaelangelo, Giotto as well as many m
any more… Jays favorite was the depition of the Seven Virtues by several artists including Boticelli. I think I could say with confidence that he was impressed as any well bread person should be.Florence was as georgeous as I had remembered, but all the more exciting as it was truly a joy for me to experience everything with Jay, it just added an extra something.
Its time for us to go home now. We make our way to the bus station and head back to our apartment in the beautiful medievel Siena over looking the mountains of Tuscany that we now call home…
CLICK HERE FOR LAS PICTURAS
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