Next time, I’m taking the harder courses. 😉 Momma, this was what nurse Bob wanted! #SDCPH
“Angie has so much potential. I hope she will work hard to achieve the maximum.”
5th grade, studied Self Actualized Leadership, World Community Systems, Communication & The Media, Science Technology & Energy Sciences, Geometry and Spatial Relationships.
Only satisfactorily respects the ideas and opinions of others and expresses ideas clearly. Noted; something’s don’t change much.
In fifth grade they said I’d never finish, and in 8th grade I knew they were right. In 9th grade I dropped out to go to college, but they wouldn’t let me in until I was 16. Thus I started college on December 1, 1995.
My last “good” report card: Note the number of absences. Never was good at sitting still when bored out of my mind. I have crazy feet, Dr. Seuss diagnosed me so.
It was once famously argued that “information yearns to be free”. I find this to be a truth with evidence regardless of the type of content—that is whether it’s content in the form of newspaper journalism, music, television or movies. Continue reading
Facts of the Case
The school heard that the kids were going to wear black armbands to school to protest the Vietnam War and passed a policy banning the armbands. The kids were suspended until the New Year. The parents filed suit in U.S. District Court which agreed with the school board, U.S. Court of Appeals were tied meaning the ruling stood forcing the parents to take it to Supreme Court.
Facts of the Case
Matthew Fraser gave a speech at a school assembly that was filled with sexual innuendo, but not obscenity, prompting disciplinary action from the administration—he was suspended for three days. Continue reading
Facts of the Case
The principal who normally reviewed the paper prior to publication deleted two pages to remove two articles regarding teen pregnancy and divorce.
What are cultural industries? According to Hesmondhalgh’s texts cultural industries are defined as those which have “leisure, information, entertainment, media, and creativity” as their primary outputs. Others might refer to the cultural industries as simply “entertainment and the arts”.
What is missing in referring to the cultural industries is the required awareness of the impact such industries have people. Members of The Frankfurt School (Horkheimer, Adorno, Marcuse) warned about the difference between true needs and false needs. But of what concern are these to us? Continue reading
You must cross the busy street to get there
There isn’t a clear path really
Where we cross there is no light
And it seems just too far to find just one Continue reading
In the morning light he stands silhouetted against the kitchen window’s gaze. Trees are a near image of black and white the backdrop behind him. They have grown there of dinner’s waste disposed of in pots of soil to late reap trees of plum and lemon, dates, and tomato vines, melons sprouts that will never grow pregnant into their confined space, and a new sprout yet to be determined as orange or lemon, but he knows that it is citrus.
As he pours the water (word for just before boiling) into the pot the gas flame flames licking at the sky stretching great feats of distance, three and four inches high unbridled flame. Tea and toast and little cookies. He watered the plants and there is a slow cascade of water dripping that blends into the choirs music wafting through the kitchen that seems just all to fitting for a Sunday morning. He discusses living in the shadow of the Roman Catholic Church and wonders why the Pope doesn’t save lives instead of souls.
He plays the harmonic on the toes of one foot—no, it’s the pan flute—on all ten toes to Mozart’s K622.
Of water disturbed
Path gouged in depths
Of raging darkest blues
And once serenest greens
A momentary trail
Of where he has gone
A small dark room
Cool stone walls
On tiled floor her feet move
Fluidity of movement
Leg to thigh
Hip to breast
Arm to neck
By the cicada
In the corner
A haunted dance
The fan vacillates
Antiqued metal stirs the air
Its grace never touching
The sweat upon her face
The music fading
The melody that was
Walls of burnt caramel with bookcases holding treasured and worn volumes of poetry, Dorothy Parker, textbooks of youth and scholar, biology and war, movies in black and white, and dust covered CD jewel cases. A desk faces the window—a tall and double width window—out of which a pale sheer flutters through as the wind inhales causing it to move about as a woman’s dress tangled about the knees giving hint to life’s source.
The desk has space for one to sit and spans nearly as wide as the room, much longer than a bed might be. Papers and books, and documentations of authenticity are strewn, but neatly, across. All are centered about the chair which faces the window of flirting blue reminiscent of clouds.
Against the only other wall with space not adorned by books—volumes and volumes of books in mixed language and genre—is a red couch. The couch is of modern style and pulls out into a bed in a way which seems unique, though this is really nothing altogether new.
Old jazz music plays—a pianist who played with Miles Davis.
It smells of rosemary and fennel and of roasting aubergines.
Against the back wall, opposite the window, is one framed photograph. Black and white, matted against creamy white, in a thin wooden frame. A table of elegant men and women are frozen in a moment. The woman in the right corner stares out with clearest eyes of glass, just as la Fornarina. She wears a hat. To the other end sits a mother, though not yet realized. She looks out of the photo from the slight turn of her face. In between, men are locked in various states of unaware being, one looking at the camera, the others simply arranged in a Caravaggio construction of the Last Supper. The photo is placed high on the wall—positioned for the tall, dark and handsome Italian man who lives here. Or is he Spanish?
Sometimes, even he’s not certain.
By John Keats
Thou still unravished bride of quietness,
Thou foster child of silence and slow time,
Sylvan historian, who canst thus express
A flowery tale more sweetly than our rhyme: Continue reading
by Rainer Maria Rilke
Translated by Stephen Mitchell
[blockquote align=”left”]We cannot know his legendary head
with eyes like ripening fruit. And yet his torso
is still suffused with brilliance from inside,
like a lamp, in which his gaze, now turned to low,
gleams in all its power. Otherwise
the curved breast could not dazzle you so, nor could
a smile run through the placid hips and thighs
to that dark center where procreation flared.
Otherwise this stone would seem defaced
beneath the translucent cascade of the shoulders
and would not glisten like a wild beast’s fur:
would not, from all the borders of itself,
burst like a star: for here there is no place
that does not see you. You must change your life.[/blockquote]
Sketch: a response to “Aeneas, Anchises, and Ascanius”
Slackened form the burden to bear
that no man may slander
Each in turn holding onto
that life’s moment makes precious
At life’s end, he grasps his deities
ever conscious of the hereafter
Son, man, head-of-household, it is family that he ponders
It is on the strength of his back that his family is saved
Young carries the eternal flame, his life just began
Family escapes, life unscathed
We toured the Galleria Borghese today, and it was an inspiring experience. Bernini’s work is prominently showcased here, with Apollo and Daphne, David, Pluto and Proserpina (or The Rape of Proserpina), and Truth Unveiled by Time. Bernini is a master of a moment in motion captured in marble. I was also intrigued by the amazing detail in Canova’s Pauline Bonaparte, a sculpture of Napoleon’s sister who was reluctantly married to the reigning Prince Borghese. She was a scandalous woman who when asked how it was that she could pose nearly naked, blithely replied “Oh, there was a stove in the studio.” She left a legacy of tales regarding her jewels, clothes, lovers, the “negro” who carried her from her bath, and the servants she used as footstools. Titian’s Sacred and Profane Love, elements of the painting symbolizing “fleeting happiness on earth” and “eternal happiness in heaven”.
There was also a Raphael room which displayed paintings of the Florentine School, and allowed you to view the master with his teachers in a progression of technique.
The Galleria Borghese is simply one of the best in the worldâ€¦ it is as magical as The Phillips Collection in Washington, D.C. which stunned me with their Rothko room, and their amazing collection of recognizable pieces, including Luncheon of the Boating Party.
Here’s a link to Tom’s photos, another writer on the trip.
This morning we had a Caravaggio walk to start off our first morning back. It was really nice because we met up at 9.30—which is pretty late for us. We walked first to S. Agnostino’s Basilica where we viewed the Madonna of the Pilgrims (1604-06). Interesting to note, the model was a prostitute and her babe in arms. There was also Raffaello’s Prophet Isaiah as well.
I wrote my poem on the painting of Madonna of the Pilgrims.
From darkness comes light.
Fingers splayed holding ample flesh of shifting child.
Legs dangling, foot so close to the hand of one who entreats him.
Lines formed from child to follower, eye to eye, to sole of trodden foot.
Mothers gaze awry.
Perspective drawn so that we are too—only ever to gaze up upon him.
From darkness comes light.
Next we went just around the corner to Chiesa di San Luigi dei Francesi where Caravaggio has three pieces: The Calling of Saint Matthew, The Inspiration of Saint Matthew, and The Martyrdom of Saint Matthew.
These were amazing pieces showing his deftness of composition of motion, movement and light. One day when I get time, I want to overlay these paintings with circles and lines showing the perspective and motion in composition.
Finally we trekked out to the S. Maria del Popolo again to revisit the Crucifixion of Peter and the Conversion of Saul. Matt let us in on Caravaggio’s life a bit, explaining of how he ran from Rome (he killed a man—a friend of the Pope’s, and was found to be sodomizing young boys), then was fast-track knighted elsewhere only to be hunted again when he was found to have done something so vile it could not be written (and thus forever undocumented). The Borghese’ entreated the Pope to pardon Caravaggio because they were desperate to have him return to Rome and their patronage, and finally he received word that we was welcomed back. However somewhere north of Rome he disappeared and his body was never found. Remember that he would paint his pieces with consideration of where they would be shown in mind. This is what makes the pieces in S. Maria’s so intriguing, because the butt in your face, or the horses hindquarters towards alter are no mistake. He also liked to paint feet dirty, gritty and real, which was an often an issue for the Church’s taste. He had to repaint The Inspiration of Matthew because they wouldn’t accept the grit and grim of the first. Hence Matthew’s odd stature where he looks like he’s off balance and going to fall off the chair. Caravaggio didn’t hide bitterness well. (The horse’s hindquarters are facing the altar piece because he wanted to do the altar piece but they commissioned another artist instead.)
So we met up this morning at 8.30 to head into Sorrento to catch a ferry to Capri. Off to a good start. We arrive and first thing locate the stand to buy tickets for the Blue Grotto. Unfortunately the Grotto was closed for hide tide/dangerous water. Consoling ourselves, Rachel said the only way to see the Blue Grotto is to come back on a friend’s private yacht. I agreed. Instead we took the boat around the island which was actually quite lovely.
Back at the Marina Grande we picked up a sandwich and fruit in the deli then followed the Germans to the bus up to Anacapri. From there we took the lift to the top of the hill. It was an interesting experience. The photos of the view are from the top. The view is well worth the â‚¬7, and it’s a great spot to eat your lunch. On the way up there was an curious spot where someone who loves to collect trinkets obviously lives. I captured a few photos of it on the way down.
At the bottom again we determined there just wasn’t enough time (given Italian bus dependency) to go to Lido del Faro. Instead we picked up the bus headed to the bottom again. We got off in Marina Piccolo and wandered around in the streets overstuffed with shops. There was one, 100% Capri it was called, that had the most amazing linen clothes. Of course they thought so as well. The shirt I lovingly fingered to revel in the texture was only â‚¬240!
We worked our way back to the main piazza where I was delighted to find a limone granite stand. I bought two while Rachel grabbed tickets for the funicular. Finally back at the bottom in Capri’s Marina Grande we decided we wanted off the island and would rather relax in Sorrento. We spent the last hour together wandering Sorrento’s market streets where I picked up Baba Limoncello while Rachel found an Italian copy of Faulkner’s The Sound and the Fury.
We arrived at the station with my bag and a ticket in hand just in time for me to board. (I’m thrilled—I get to see Rachel again in Rome this weekend!) Somehow the train just wasn’t the direct one that was noted at the station. Instead it stopped at every stop along the way, and even rested for about 10 minutes somewhere in the middle. I arrived in Napoli a little late for the train I wanted, and instead ended up on an express for just â‚¬10.50. Not bad.
I shared a cubby with a 25 year old Frenchman who spoke about as much Italian as I do, and no English. We communicated well enough though, and it was nice to have male company to ward off the unwanted kind.
Last night I walked Rachel down to the end of the street, and then headed back up to climb into bed exhausted. We were to meet after her class for our trip into the Amalfi Coast. I had a cappuccino and cornetti at the little snack bar outside her language school—Rachel is taking Italian lessons for the week—and lost myself in my book, Suite FranÃ§iase. At about 11 we caught the bus to Postiano and were proud of ourselves for having secured seats on the right side of the bus. Most of the view for the first portion was actually on the opposite side of the bus. I was bonked squarely on the head by an annoying little man who we would continue running into on the trip. He had slipped trying to take an ill advised photo leaning out the window of the bus. I had perverse pleasure in that none of his photos would turn out very well. He must have had short man syndrome, he had definitely earned the right!
The views were breathtaking and when we arrived we walked the highway most of the way down to the beach. Along the way we found a tiny local deli and had fresh sandwiches made. When we reached the shopping portion we ate on a little stoop. I reveled in the limone granite that we found, and we took a brief moment to appreciate the view of the city from the water looking back up.
It was nearly three so we hiked up the hill quickly to try to catch the bus out to Amalfi. Unfortunately we arrived just moments too late and the next one wasn’t to come for an hour and a half! Tired, sweaty and suppressing crankiness, we almost literally bathed in the fountain and settled in to plan our trip to Capri and the Blue Grotto the next day.
We were happy to see the little man’s interminable family leave on the bus heading back to Sorrento, but we were joined but another clueless family whose father loudly proclaimed that they had been waiting the longest yet weren’t able to sit. I just looked at Rachel with a slight smile. Yeah, right.
Amalfi was cool. Honestly at the moment though I can’t remember much of it. Isn’t that horrible? I’m writing a day behind and the atrocities of Capri are looming and overshadowing my mind’s memory.
Back at home we picked up a bottle of wine and baba limoncello from the supermarket and then headed home. Showered and then started a lovely little evening. We ate the other sandwich from earlier, drank the wine and had baba’s for dessert. We tried to share photos, but the internet connection wasn’t working again. Venturing downstairs we had an unsuccessful run-in with the night guard who just wasn’t having it when I tried to explain how we needed to reset the router. Oh well. We stayed up late chatting—the front desk calling near midnight to ensure my guest would not be staying the night—Rachel roused and headed back home. We decided we Capri could wait for 30 minutes in the morning for extra sleep.
I took Rachel up to see the view from the pool area, and she fell in love with the hotel and the city too I’d say. It is an amazing panoramic view of the city pushed into the mountains all the way to the sea, and stretching out as far as the eye can see. My patio view isn’t half bad either, just not from the same vantage point. We finished my bottle of wine from the night before while sitting on the veranda.
So then we walked into Sorrento arriving just in time for our reservation at 20.00. Stepping into the restaurant it was easy to see we had made a great choice. The ambiance was unbelievable; I kick myself now as I realize I didn’t take a photo. Tables were properly set and waiting for water, champagne and wine. Aperitifs were brought out as soon as we were settled into our seats, champagne to follow. We were served an arrangement of delicious looking breads, and then we were served another with two very special rolls to try. We both went for the traditional tasting menu and we weren’t the least bit disappointed. Everything was unbelievable.
Today we’re either heading down the Amalfi Coast, or out to Capri. I’m meeting up with her after her Italian lesson and we’re going from there.
So I woke up this morning thrilled to be on holiday. The air conditioning was perfectly tempered all night long; the sun was streaming in through the patio doors at just the right amount to let me know that it was indeed morning. I rolled over and dosed a bit more. I made my way upstairs for breakfast and a cappuccino that was made from a machine (can you believe it?!).
Back in my room I read for another chapter before deciding that, indeed, I was going to the Lido Meta Mare that Rick spoke of—alone. I took the train into Sorrento (the opposite direction of my ultimate direction) and wandered the square. I had originally considered having lunch in Sorrento, then picking up the bus from Piazza Tasso (Linea A) but then realized it was too early as it was just noon. I wound through the narrow alley of shops and knickknacks and back to the square to make my way to the sea. At the bus stop a girl came up and asked the woman beside me if she knew where Line A was. (I had confirmed I was in the right place with the shopkeeper standing watch as there was no listing for “Linea A” on any of the schedules posted at either side of the street). I turned and confirmed that she was in the right place. We started to chat with my attitude being just a bit reservedâ€¦ why, I’m not sure, but this I recall. We learned we were both alone and hanging out, first I suggested dinner, and we sought our mobile numbers, which incidentally neither of us knew. Then I told her I was on the way to the beach, and she mentioned that she happened to have her swimsuit—we were on our way. And that’s how I met Rachel.
The sea was lovely, there was only one other international couple there that we ran into on our way in. Otherwise it was just us and the Italians. It was a rather large beach split up into at least three sections, and beyond large rocks and the public beach there was another section of beach just for the cluster of hotels. Entry was cheap, and the services were also inexpensive.
We’re back at my hotel for a brief shower, to finish my bottle of wine from last night and then to meander into Sorrento for dinner.
I write sitting on the veranda overlooking the sea, Mount Vesuvius shrouded in fog at its base and church bells warning all of Mass (it’s 19.00). Two cannons shots dot the air with plumes of smoke at the nook between two mountains at the edge of town. It really is amazingly beautiful here. I started reading my book, Suite Française, on the train on the way here. It is moving, and I have a new appreciation for the writing given all that I’ve learned in the past two weeks.
I need to complete the sketches assigned on the break because I didn’t keep up.
This morning we had something of a poetry scavenger hunt. We started in the Campo, our first pitch was to write a riddle about something we found there. Mine was:
Fragrance your cocina
Preparation for a date
What am I?
I had been amused by the premixed spices you can pick up to create your own sauces. Must buy tons to take back home with me!
We checked out this building where there was a very cool perspective trick. (Find name of artist, starts with a “B”.) It was very cool, but unfortunately I knew the trick. Interestingly enough apparently the distance is 11 meters while the perspective cheats your eye into believing that it would be 33 instead.
I hurried home for a catch up cohort meeting picking up pizza from the place that Matt had suggested. I didn’t really care for it compared to others, but that might have been just the one I had chosen.
We met up again at the end of the day for “High Mass” at the park just to the right of the top of the Campodiligio. Every person read a poem or piece written from the past two weeks, and then Rick serenaded us with a collection of lines from what we had read. I believe he had at least one from everyone. It was brilliant. Then he bid us adieu with a few of his own. He’s clever and brilliant; it’s sad he’s going home.
I walked with Davida and Lisa on the way home and we stopped in the Ghetto for dinner at a place I’d noted several times called Giggelleto. It was really a charming place and dinner was quite good. Would love to take Brian and his family there.
I ended the evening with a drink at Joe’s working furiously to figure out a place to stay for the holiday. I finally gave in to reason (wasting too much time on searching for the “perfect place” is wasting as much as money) and settled on Hotel Cristina in Sant’Agnello (a neighborhood or neighboring town of Sorrento).
Okay, so the week does seem long. I enjoy our days exploring sights of the city, but it is a bit exhausting especially when it spills into the weekends as well. I can’t wait for our upcoming four day holiday! That having been said, Friday seemed to be another day to drag myself out of bed with complaints of being tired. We headed off to San Clemente, Laurie and I walking together the whole way (it’s past the Colosseum). The morning was actually fairly cool, so it was a nice walk. It turns out that the Church doesn’t open the museum until noon, so we had all arrived two hours too early. No worries, Carol and Alex gave presentations on the Mythraic cult, and Sarah and Poppy told us about the ancient Christians who apparently secretly worshipped in the adjoining structure separated by a tiny hallway, both buried beneath the current structure of the Church.
A fraternity of dogs came to play in the fountain at which we were gathered and we gave way and headed into the Museum. Again, an amazing experience. I must do research to determine what went on here. They say that the Apostle Paul (or was it Peter?) met here in secret with the earliest Christians in Rome.
Our pitch was of “relics”. My sketch was of controversy–too abstract, not a tangible object–but I defended my position.
“Paradise lost, though not regained
As Milton would have us told
Truth is the relic soughtâ€¦”
Laurie and I met up with Lelo (Francesco) to go grab something to eat. He took us to a pizza place just around the corner on the way to Piazza Navona called Monte Carlo’s. It was yummy yummy. Loved their zuccina fiori. Laurie picked up the tab (must pay her back), and then we headed to Joe’s for a drink before sacking out. I was a bit tipsy, and was exhausted by the time I passed out.
Kelsey and I walked through the museum together. We went at about 12.30pm and virtually walked right in. There were about five people ahead of us to buy tickets in the student line. There was a ticket counter with no wait at all.
We raced through the museum.
I wanted to see Raffaello’s paintings, and she didn’t really want to be there at all. The School of Athens is her favorite painting though, so we trekked as fast as we possibly could through the maze of rooms, halls and people to Raffaello’s stanzas.
In a room displaying more modern art, I fell in love with this beautiful painting, and found a Dali.
Funny note, as we were walking along the grand hallway with the gold ornamental and frescoed ceiling about to step into the next room a young boy in front of us exclaimed in awe “Oh god, oh god, oh my god!” for a moment I thought he was like all the others who were all too eager in anticipation for the Sistine Chapel thinking each successive room was “the” oneâ€¦ the words to accompany his exclamation of awe cleared up any confusionâ€¦ “Oh my godâ€¦ air conditioning!”
Though we would have loved to avoid it, and its irreverent people, we ended up pushed along into the Sistine Chapel. We were both in shock at how virtual every person had camera raised above their head flashing away taking photos, and silence wasn’t even a consideration. Almost made you wonder if they’d designated the day as a free-for-all for amateur photographers? Where was imposing baritone voice intoning “No fotos” and “Silencio”?
Today we got up early and headed to a bus which took us about an hour out of the city to Cerveteri to the ancient Etruscan’s city of Necropoli. This was an interesting experience, tombs which you climb down intoâ€¦ a whole city of them. It was a very peaceful area and contradictory to its name the city was brimming full of life.
We headed to Tarquinia for lunch and checked out the museum there. The view of the sea was beautiful from this hilltop town. After making the rounds in the museum and capturing a snapshot of yet another built in seat nestled next to the window (perhaps you’ve noticed the trend in my photos?)
I wandered the streets. I found a music school with a stage all set waiting for an audience to perform for.
Next we checked out another set of tombs, these with frescos inside. The burial place was set atop the hill and again the view was amazing. One tomb held a racy sceneâ€¦ interesting to see what some choose as their backdrop in preparation for the ‘afterlife’.
This was the first time that we have bothered to take the bus and metro. Laurie and I rose early to meet the group at Bruno in the Campo, but alas no one was to be found. We bought tickets at the Tabacchi and headed to Largo Argentina to pick up the first bus headed to the Termini (40 or 64). We arrived safely and picked up the train to Cinecittà, the next to the last stop on line A, if I recall correctly. On arrival we exited the station and arose from the underground into our group clustered around the corner cafè. Continue reading
Monday we walked through the Forums and it was very hot. Somehow that just seemed right. Walking through I looked up to notice high above all else, at the top of a steeple, and at the base of the holy symbol of Christianity, a blossom of green. I was stunned â€“ how does a plant end up there? From what is it growing? There is no ground, is life springing forth from a seed carried by wind or bird and in the soil of years worn cement into dust just reminiscent of dirt that a blossom takes hold?
After I went to the Coliseum, again I make note that it was hot. But I hadn’t seen this site last time and figured I would get the task out of the way so next time people hear I’ve traveled to Rome I might answer affirmatively to the next questionâ€¦ “Did you see the Colosseum?” Thanks to our group ticket from the Forum I was able to skirt the winding, sweaty and grumpy crowd snaking its way to the Ingresso. In line I met a charming group; I smiled at their accents, and smiled again when they affirmed my Carolinian suspicions—a family plus others, visiting from Raleigh.
I am happy that I went to the Colosseum because the museum had an exhibit of Eros, one of the five Greek forms of love, and Greek god. I enjoyed the exhibit (I love Hellenistic sculpture, especially of female form) and took a few requisite photos of the Colosseum itself.
Returning home was like a trek through hell. Did I mention that it was hot? I tore through the Forums as fast as possible, stopping once to refill my water bottle whereupon a woman informed me that others are also waiting (in line). My humor failing I nodded and reminded her that I had been waiting first. American’s are rude, I felt no shame in my rightful claim, only in that I responded to the erroneous sarcastic commentary from a New Jersey housewife surely accustomed to preferential treatment.
I returned home for a quick cold shower, redress for siesta and lunch.
I woke this morning surprisingly stable relative to the previous evening’s taxation. A quick cappuccino at Joe’s before heading up the stairs for Rick’s lecture. There was a small but eclectic group there. Didn’t see some I would have expected, and was surprised at others who did make it. Continue reading
It was so hard to get up this morning… We hurried to S. Pietro’s Basilica, and my eye was twitching with tiredness. Our pitch was “crawling dot” a practice in negative capability in scale. Continue reading
Up early to head to the Campidoglio. It was Laurie’s day to present, and she was the first presentation of the class. I feel in love with Hercules, the Statua di Venus Esquiline and a relief with Eros. I pretty much wandered alone, and had a long conversation with Rick which helped me to better understand Kevin’s input that I lack imagery.
In light of the previous evening’s events, I chose to dine alone with Hibbert’s Rome, and my research on Raffaello. I ate at the little pizzeria that Kevin had recommended, Baffetto 2. It was yummy. For some reason the quarter of wine washed through me with more intensity than usual.
After dropping my things of at the apartment I ventured over to Piazza Pigna to the “girls” apartment for dessert. It was a nice round table of program participants and they were cycling around the room with introductions and a quip about their names. It was a clever way to remember folks.
I was meeting up with Kelsey for drinks at 23.00 back at the Campo. I found her smoking with Nicholas, and we then ran into Lauren who had been venturing the city the entire evening. We all went to Nicholas’ place and picked up a bottle of wine to drink at the fountain. The piazza was tiny and we were the only tourists, let alone Americans. I felt like I was in good company.
On the way home, Mariano wanted us to stay when we passed the cafe, but, well, getting up in the morning was to be of certain difficulty.
Pitch: Diptych (Contour drawings on one side, poems on the other)
Down the hall
and to the right
Round the corner
and stand in awe
Is there any other word?—Forgive me mother!
Round, erect, firm
Mass of muscle implying strength
Beyond mortal imagination
Heavy legs, but not with wasted flesh
Thick in muscle
Legs with which to perch that ass.
So Laurie and I went to dinner with Tom, Mindy, Lauren at a place just off Piazza Navona. I normally prefer some a little less touristy (read: better food, and not a rip off), but we were all hungry and we wanted to stay close. (Laurie got bit by something and her leg wasn’t feeling so hot.) Continue reading
We were up bright and early to head to La Spagna in pursuit of Keats apartment while in Rome. Several of us met at Caffè Greco (where Keats once went to write) for cappuccino. A tour of Keats place followed, I should come back to note the highlights at a time when I might better focus. Continue reading
On Wednesday our pitch “Aperture” and the task was to Crucify the City, this is to say that we would before days end cross the city from south to north, and west to east.
Anyone who knows me knows that I’m really bad with names, dates and places. I can tell you whether or not I’ve seen something beforeâ€¦ I can lead you from here to somewhere else with a great sense of direction. But well, I was excited to go to the Pantheon because I thought it was one place I’ve never been before. As we arrived this morning I laughed at myself to realize that not only had I been before, I’d passed by several times in the past few days while out and about.
There was a bird circling the ceiling closing in a little slower and slower on the aperture—God’s eye in on earth from heaven—until finally it tired and perched. I could vividly picture rain pouring through the oculus, but I think this was just my mind’s eye as I can’t recall being in Rome with it ever rainingâ€¦? (Raffaello was buried here: “Here lies Raffaello who, when alive, Nature was afraid to be won by him, when he died, she wanted to die herself.” Distichon written by Pietro Bembo.)
Next stop was Church of St. Ignatius of Loyola a beautiful baroque design set off against a piazza designed seemingly as a “Commedia dell’Arte” stage set with a bit of “trompe l’oeil” thrown in for perspective.
Moving through the harried streets to the Marco Aurelio column offering just a quick gaze. Onwards to St. Maria Popolo. There I was in awe of the Caravaggio’s and captured some very cool photos in black and white while the lights were out. They really show the amazing illumination that comes through in his paintings.
Then we step out of the Porta Flaminia Gate and back through as visitors and Romans alike would. I still appreciate the ancient roman gates and wall far more than the Renaissance’d ones. Next we climb to the Pincio with the first panoramic view of the city that day. Break for siesta.
Meeting again at 17.00 at the UW Rome Center, we broke then for the west to east portion of the crucifixion. We trooped out of the Campo skirting the Ghetto headed for Trestevre. Ultimate destination to climb the Passeggiata del Gianicolo. Winding narrow harrowing streets and steps which tested the limits of my skirt’s ability (hiking up my skirt a little moreâ€¦ Roma, show your world to me?). Atop we came to the monumental source of Rome’s water at the Fonte Acqua Paola. It is an amazing concept to think of how we worry about water resources in other areas in the world and Rome has aqueducts that flow so very freely supplying the entire population with refreshing, clean, cool water.
Continuing on we approached the Piazza of the Spanish Accademia. Inside is the Tempietto San Pietro in Montorio by Bramante which is illustration of the very image of a perfect Renaissance building.
We officially ended our walk on Gianicolo’s Hill with a class photo. Courtney, Lauren, Laurie and I wandered off then in the Villa Borghese. I still need to find that magical spot with the monument in the middle of the pond.
Shackles fall away
The wide-eyed weary traveler
Enters the Eternal City
One cycle of the moon
Non basta una vita!
So it turns out that we do indeed have wi-fi access from our apartment. I discovered it during siesta. Apparently someone turns it on during siesta and off again after. Oddest thing, but I’m not complaining! It is also strange because it sometimes allows me to access chat, but only some websites and not others.
This evening we met for conversation and a stroll into the heart of the city. It was the first moment that we met together forming an identity and a bond as writers and cohorts. Paraphrasing Kevin eloquence, we tossed a few poems off the Tarpeian Rock, to let our forebears know that some poets and writers had arrived.
We broke for dinner; I asked Lauren to join Courtney, Laurie and I, and we had a wonderful meal with lavish dessert at a restaurant just slightly off the well traveled tourist path. It was as I always seek, we were the only tourist desecrating the place.
Last night I led the new found troupe to Mamma Angela’s where I had eaten last time. It was really far walk, and we were like the little Annie orphans trekking down fifth avenue (remember that scene?) but we finally made it. Somewhat disappointing because there were more American voices than ever, and the food wasn’t nearly as good but whatever. Left about 23.00 and started walking home, but veered off course and that’s when Laurie stepped up to help navigate.
Can I say, I love my roommate. We’ll be friends when we return to Seattle.
Other notes, our apartment is tiny but right at the Campo. Can’t say on the Campo because another group has one actually on the Campo (that’s gotta be noisy at night!) the Campo de’ Fiori is THE spot to be. Oh and the main point—tiny apartment BUT AIR CONDITIONING!!! I am happy. Gladly trade the free wi-fi (the ones above Joe’s can pick up the signal from their apartment) for the air. Joe’s is so close anyway.
Speaking of Joe’s I’m special. Of course you knew that already, but it’s nice that they noticed. I think I’m the only student that they’ve decided to give a special 20% off card too. Every purchase—Love it!
OK, I feel bad being in the computer lab with others waiting when I have a laptop. Going to go find a SIM card today. No assignment today (first official actual day, yesterday was ‘get lost alone, and find yourself’) just to meet again at 17.00.
I got in safe and easy yesterday. Luggage took forever to come off the plane, but I had a lovely American woman monitoring it’s progress (read: complaining) the entire time so really it was just fine. I always love it when there is a guy waiting to pick YOU up. Located the guy with the sign with my name with no problem, then was off. Once again forgot how close Rome is to the beach. It’s just a 25 minute Metro ride.
Got to the hotel, Albergo della Lunetta on the Piazza del Paradiso, a lovely little place filled with American students and a few other tourists. I showered (hadn’t since the previous day, before staying up all night then riding planes for another day!), then knocked out on my bed. It’s six am now, so I did okay on getting onto time zone. Went to bed last night at about midnight.
After having lunch in the cafÃ© Magnolia in the Campo, I end up back in the room. And just waited for Courtney to arrive. I didn’t have to wait long (I had already napped away most of the afternoon) and after getting her things situated in the room we went out. It was back to the Campo to check out Joe’s for gelato. We lingered for the rest of the evening, until about nine. Had waters, then I had a gin & tonic. They brought us a lovely antipasto plate.
We strolled off to see the sites as it was Courtney’s first time here in Rome. My sense of direction is just amazing. I walked us directly to the Trevi fountain, and from there to the Spanish Steps. We arrived just in time for the Carabinieri to chase us away (11pm is curfew for the stairs). Grabbed another gelato on the walk home, and crashed in the room. I grabbed prosciutto, mozzarella and bread from a cafÃ© on the corner to tied me over in lieu of the dinner we never had. The mozzarella was, of course, to die for.
My education has been, as with most things in my life, a bit unusual. Continue reading
Blogs are a new medium of communication which is accessible to anyone with the ability to use the Internet. With the demonstrated power and reach of blogs it is important to examine this medium and the subsequent impact which it may have on mass media. Continue reading
“JOIN a band of ink-stained writer-adventurers for a month of concentrated exercise and conversation in and about the Eternal City. This is Rome from a generalist’s perspective: history and geography, art and architecture, language and literature, the color and vagary and flavor of daily life all constellate in the writer’s notebook. Following in the footsteps of those poets, painters, saints and soldiers who for some two and a half millennia have traveled where all roads lead, we’ll sack the city word by cobble, in conversation, practice, and stride.”
Of note, Rick, or Professore Kenny is a recipient of the MacArthur Fellowship “Genius Award”.
Here’s a link to my photo album for this trip. Will be updated daily or so. Check back often for updates! Ciao!