It's Sunday morning now, and I'm writing from the restaurant/bar area of a hostel in Rome called The Yellow. So maybe this post doesn't deserve so dramatic a title, but as I approach my last twenty-four hours in Europe, it feels right. Even more so, I feel like the quote captures the irony of my having visited an immense Roman aqueduct on my third day in Europe with my program's excursion to Segovia, and two days ago, while in Naples en route to Rome, Johnny and I took a tour of Napoli Sotteraneo, the Naples underground, which concluded with the ruins beneath the city of a Roman aqueduct. But maybe this is just one of those things that's only particularly interesting for me...
Anyway, since it's been awhile since I last wrote I thought I should take advantage of this little bit of down time I've got to catch you up with the adventures I've had and the people I've met over the past few days.
As I mentioned before, our last full day on Capri started off early with a hike up to Castella Barbarossa (I've since had several discussions over the proper spelling of this wonderful viewpoint, and have come to no conclusions). On the hike, we met some fellow English speakers in Ben and Emma, a couple from London, maybe about ten years my senior. Ben is the son of Tom, who lives on the island and is a good friend of my aunt and uncle, and he works in advertising - creating and explaining more effective ways for companies that are trying to modernize their appearances with sites like Twitter. Emma, though, I think had the coolest back-story. She's half Sri Lankan and so after the tsunami about six or seven years ago, she went there to volunteer. But the thing is, Emma is an artist (she describes herself as having tried to force herself to love the sciences, but it just didn't work) and she ended up setting up her own charity, face painting and teaching face painting in an orphanage down there. About two years ago, she moved back to England with Ben where she works a conglomeration of jobs ranging from stage make-up, to body-painting for Halloween costumes, teaching sewing to in-mates as a part of their parole... Truly, an incredible and interesting person to speak with, and so it was with Ben and Emma that we hiked up from La Pietra to the quaint chiesa la cetrella and then up to the ruins of Monte Solaro, free-spirited, chill and in love with the island. The Cetrella was calm and soothing, and apparently the location where the husband of my cousin Jane (Johnny's older sister) proposed to her. We chatted a bit and shared a small coffee with the amici di cetrella, the group of old men working to restore and maintain the church and its lands. Monte Solaro, on the other hand was bustling with tourists, and amidst our deep and worldly conversations, the four of us enjoyed picking out the American and English tour groups from our high and lofty posts as friends of the locals.
On Friday, we packed up and said goodbye to Capri, setting out for Naples. Johnny's parents accompanied us (thanks again for helping with the luggage!) for the boat ride over, a quick spot of lunch at a cafe we found inside a galleria across the way from the archaeology museum. I'm not the hugest of history buffs so unfortunately I don't think I can do justice to an explanation of the archaeology museum beyond describing it with adjectives: huge and breathtaking and exquisite and incredible, mostly because everything was so old and so beyond the scope of my understanding for how each artifact might have been created or preserved. From there we directionally wandered to the Piazza San Gaetano, from which runs a narrow and picturesque street where they make and sell figurines for nativity scenes (and soccer players, musicians and political figures - I suppose that nowadays, for some, these figures are more important than their religious counterparts but to each his own). Before descending to our subterranean tour, we said our goodbyes (and maybe shed a few tears) to my aunt and uncle as they headed back to the island. For dinner, and the original reason for our stop in Naples, we met up with Johnny's cousin Bruno, a math professor, and his wife Ale, from Mexico and proficient in many languages. As with Ben and Emma, our conversations with Bruno and Ale were most interesting as we took the time to learn more about each of them. Even if I hadn't known Bruno to be related to my aunt's family, after our dinner their I would've guessed it - the generosity and hospitality were out of this world.
Hmm, well writing this has taken a bit more time than I thought it would - I suppose I'll save my tales of Rome for a later time. As for now, I'm off to wake Johnny up and then head out to sightsee.
Sunday, July 8, 2012
Thursday, July 5, 2012
buona giornata!
Much to my delight, Bianca, my aunt's mother who grew up in Anacapri, has been doling out anecdotal history and Italian lessons to me as conversation runs its course. As we ambled back from dinner last night, she explained to me the difference between buona sera and buona serata as well as buon giorno and buona giornata. Essentially, the first two both mean good evening while the latter signify good morning or good day. Adding the suffix -ata, which in the case of good day also changes the gender of the word, adds a more complete meaning to its subject as it allows one to essentially say 'I hope you've had a good evening so far and that the rest of it passes well for you, too'. So since it is about 9a here and Johnny and I have already completed our first hike of the day, to y'all I say buona giornata!
We left Villa la Pietra at about ten till six this morning to meet up with the same folks that had walked us to il Faro earlier in the week to walk up the worn stone steps to Castello Barbarossa. I'd like to put the disclaimer in now that most of what I'll say in this post is what I was able to glean from the schpiel our guides Annarita and Giovanni gave us in Italian at the top of the castle (bearing in mind that I have only been exposed to this language for the past seven days or so and am largely resting on my knowledge of Latin roots and the Spanish language to try to understand).
This castle was built, I believe, was constructed in the 10th century and though it is named for the red-bearded Turkish pirate who didn't construct but rather helped in the destruction of the structure. It is situated on top of the grounds of Axel Munthe's Villa San Michele, but it belongs to the island. They only let people up into it on Thursdays (so anyone planning a trip to Capri, take note) and only with a guide. Other than that, it is now used largely as a point to study birds and their migratory patterns. Some advocate that this castle, from which you can spy Sorrento, Naples, Ischia and Procida, though smaller was much more strategically placed than the Villa Jovis. In its glory days, it was mostly used as a point of fortification rather than a castle for luxury, but it was destroyed in the 15th century during one of the many skirmishes between the Christians and the Ottomans. Apparently (and this is where I think my translation is most hazy), it was also during this time that the divide between Anacapri and Capri became more pronounced as the ensuing battles wreaked havoc not only on the Castello Barbarossa but also on many of the connecting buildings, roads and general structures between the upper and lower parts of the island. That being said, getting up and seeing this historic site so early this morning might be one of my favorite parts of my time here - so serene and with such a view that I had fun picking out the various places in Capri and Anacapri that I've visited in the past week.
Hopefully I'll be back to write you some more later today, my last full day in Capri - on tap we've got a hike to Monte Solaro by way of the chiesa Cetrella today before we head out for a night in Naples tomorrow and the following two in Rome. It is so hard to believe that my European adventure for the summer is coming to a close, but I can't describe how fortunate I feel to be finishing it off in the presence of such wonderful and caring family.
We left Villa la Pietra at about ten till six this morning to meet up with the same folks that had walked us to il Faro earlier in the week to walk up the worn stone steps to Castello Barbarossa. I'd like to put the disclaimer in now that most of what I'll say in this post is what I was able to glean from the schpiel our guides Annarita and Giovanni gave us in Italian at the top of the castle (bearing in mind that I have only been exposed to this language for the past seven days or so and am largely resting on my knowledge of Latin roots and the Spanish language to try to understand).
This castle was built, I believe, was constructed in the 10th century and though it is named for the red-bearded Turkish pirate who didn't construct but rather helped in the destruction of the structure. It is situated on top of the grounds of Axel Munthe's Villa San Michele, but it belongs to the island. They only let people up into it on Thursdays (so anyone planning a trip to Capri, take note) and only with a guide. Other than that, it is now used largely as a point to study birds and their migratory patterns. Some advocate that this castle, from which you can spy Sorrento, Naples, Ischia and Procida, though smaller was much more strategically placed than the Villa Jovis. In its glory days, it was mostly used as a point of fortification rather than a castle for luxury, but it was destroyed in the 15th century during one of the many skirmishes between the Christians and the Ottomans. Apparently (and this is where I think my translation is most hazy), it was also during this time that the divide between Anacapri and Capri became more pronounced as the ensuing battles wreaked havoc not only on the Castello Barbarossa but also on many of the connecting buildings, roads and general structures between the upper and lower parts of the island. That being said, getting up and seeing this historic site so early this morning might be one of my favorite parts of my time here - so serene and with such a view that I had fun picking out the various places in Capri and Anacapri that I've visited in the past week.
Hopefully I'll be back to write you some more later today, my last full day in Capri - on tap we've got a hike to Monte Solaro by way of the chiesa Cetrella today before we head out for a night in Naples tomorrow and the following two in Rome. It is so hard to believe that my European adventure for the summer is coming to a close, but I can't describe how fortunate I feel to be finishing it off in the presence of such wonderful and caring family.
Tuesday, July 3, 2012
'sono kel-si. questo e stella'
This has become my mantra of sorts when I walk around Anacapri on my own. I try to take Stella, my aunt and uncle's yellow lab, with me whenever I go out and about the town because everyone seems to know her and then they associate me more readily with my aunt and her mother, who are both well-known and loved throughout the town.
As for Johnny and I, our days on Capri have reached a pattern of sorts, which is ironic only because each day we do something new and see something different. Well, at least new and different for me. Having returned here for at least part of most of his summers, Johnny is full of ideas and island pride - even though his reddish blonde hair prevents him from ever blending in entirely. Whenever we meet tourists or other English speakers, my behavior differs so drastically from the way it did in Spain where I was so prepared to chat and be outgoing. Instead I here defer to Johnny and allow him to impart his wisdom upon any wayward travelers we may encounter.
Most of our time is filled with walking, though I suppose you could more aptly call it hiking, exploring, wandering or adventruing. The history of the island stretches back to the times of the Roman rule with the gardens of Augustus Caesar and the ruins of the Villa Jovis, which was the emperor Tiberius's palace. I am, in fact, writing these very words by hand (to be later transcribed to this blog) from my perch at the top of Villa Jovis. Johnny naps casually beside me as we take a rest from our wanderings. We hiked this morning from Capri up to the Villa Lysis, also known, though less popularly, as the Villa Farsen. This building carries an interesting history and a well-maintained structure, both of which commemorate the wealthy Signore Farsen, a Parisian of Swedish descent who at twenty-three built this villa in the wilderness and overlooking the clarity of the ocean. His reputation, both on the island and in Paris, was largely marred by his affinity for teenage boys and his tendency to recreate old Greek and Roman statues, as well as pagan rituals. Farsen passed away in the 'Chinese Room' in his basement from an overdose of opium and cocaine at the ripe old age of forty-three. Today, the building houses an exhibit to honor the 20th anniversary of the death of Russian ballerina, choreographer, writer, composer, conductor and general artist Nueyearev (probably misspelled). The focus on the perfection of the male figure reminds of Farsen's original motifs. As we walked through the three stories of the villa, I counted five full bathrooms and a spa in the basement - all for the house of one man. He must have needed to visit the little boy's room often.
From there, we continued up a more wooded and nature-y trail up here to the ruins of Villa Jovis. Honestly, thanks to our Spanish art and culture/history class with Duke in Spain this summer, the very concept of ruins was fixed sourly in my memory. We devoted hours, both in class and on homework, to analyzing the depiction of ruins in essays, poems and paintings from the past four centuries. To call the task a little dense would be the understatement of my time abroad. But these ruins are cool. And they're breathtaking in such a way that I would imagine, if I harbored more artistic talents, that they would pluck the strings of inspiration to make one want to create something either just because of or to immortalize said ruins. Well, Johnny's up and wants to walk now - will have more thoughts for you in a bit. ~1:30pm.
3:35pm~ Now at Bagni di Piccola Marina (I'm still not sure I understand when or why the Italians precede nouns with adjectives and when the reverse is more appropriate), or the beach at the island's little marina. Again, my cousin lays napping beside me, and so again I seize upon the repose from walking and talking to put pen to paper. We have, in the past two hours, hiked back down to Capri centro for a pot of gelato at supposedly the best gelateria of the island. They change their flavors on a daily basis (and we should know as we've not missed a chance to sample two flavors at a time on each of the past three days - so far I've tried Bignolata w/Nociatella, Angurria w/Fragola, and Liquizardi w/Cioccolata) and their waffle cones are made fresh on the spot as you order. We then continued down the winding and relatively recently restored Via Krupp to arrive here at the beach.
To recap, yesterday's main event was a long and comparatively luxurious walk along the Pizza Lungo, which took us from the elephantine Arco Naturale, past la Grotta Matermaria, and up to il Porto di Tragara. There, a kind New York lawyer who's been returning annually to that very spot for the past twenty-five years took our photo and assured us that if we sampled the linguine di fontanelina and white sangria, it'd be the best meal we eat in a year. And so, that is exactly what we did before returning home to Villa la Pietra to enjoy the sunset with wine, family and hearty conversation before dinner. It has been an interesting observation, that as travels take on more of a vacation-y feel, suddenly the daily schedule revolves around when and where we will obtain our next meal. In fact, as we chat with tourists along our walks, Johnny's instinctive follow-up question to "how long are you here for?" is "where are you planning on taking your next meal?", which he quickly follows-up with about four or five strong suggestions.
As we walk, Johnny and I have more or less adopted an unspoken formation of habit with him roughly three yards or so in front of me. It is not so much a difference in pace that dictates this order but more of a necessity. Johnny doesn't like to walk in straight lines, but instead his path slithers slightly as his flip-flops smack the stones. He carries on with conversation, side observations and anecdotes over his shoulder to me. With roads often narrower than some LF sidewalks, it's just easier for me to trail slightly. This also affords me the chance to observe more closely as we amble and I puzzle to myself over the words from a sign we've just past or the treks of the little gecko-like lizards that run rampant here. I like to fancy them the squirrels, more or less, of Capri.
As for Johnny and I, our days on Capri have reached a pattern of sorts, which is ironic only because each day we do something new and see something different. Well, at least new and different for me. Having returned here for at least part of most of his summers, Johnny is full of ideas and island pride - even though his reddish blonde hair prevents him from ever blending in entirely. Whenever we meet tourists or other English speakers, my behavior differs so drastically from the way it did in Spain where I was so prepared to chat and be outgoing. Instead I here defer to Johnny and allow him to impart his wisdom upon any wayward travelers we may encounter.
Most of our time is filled with walking, though I suppose you could more aptly call it hiking, exploring, wandering or adventruing. The history of the island stretches back to the times of the Roman rule with the gardens of Augustus Caesar and the ruins of the Villa Jovis, which was the emperor Tiberius's palace. I am, in fact, writing these very words by hand (to be later transcribed to this blog) from my perch at the top of Villa Jovis. Johnny naps casually beside me as we take a rest from our wanderings. We hiked this morning from Capri up to the Villa Lysis, also known, though less popularly, as the Villa Farsen. This building carries an interesting history and a well-maintained structure, both of which commemorate the wealthy Signore Farsen, a Parisian of Swedish descent who at twenty-three built this villa in the wilderness and overlooking the clarity of the ocean. His reputation, both on the island and in Paris, was largely marred by his affinity for teenage boys and his tendency to recreate old Greek and Roman statues, as well as pagan rituals. Farsen passed away in the 'Chinese Room' in his basement from an overdose of opium and cocaine at the ripe old age of forty-three. Today, the building houses an exhibit to honor the 20th anniversary of the death of Russian ballerina, choreographer, writer, composer, conductor and general artist Nueyearev (probably misspelled). The focus on the perfection of the male figure reminds of Farsen's original motifs. As we walked through the three stories of the villa, I counted five full bathrooms and a spa in the basement - all for the house of one man. He must have needed to visit the little boy's room often.
From there, we continued up a more wooded and nature-y trail up here to the ruins of Villa Jovis. Honestly, thanks to our Spanish art and culture/history class with Duke in Spain this summer, the very concept of ruins was fixed sourly in my memory. We devoted hours, both in class and on homework, to analyzing the depiction of ruins in essays, poems and paintings from the past four centuries. To call the task a little dense would be the understatement of my time abroad. But these ruins are cool. And they're breathtaking in such a way that I would imagine, if I harbored more artistic talents, that they would pluck the strings of inspiration to make one want to create something either just because of or to immortalize said ruins. Well, Johnny's up and wants to walk now - will have more thoughts for you in a bit. ~1:30pm.
3:35pm~ Now at Bagni di Piccola Marina (I'm still not sure I understand when or why the Italians precede nouns with adjectives and when the reverse is more appropriate), or the beach at the island's little marina. Again, my cousin lays napping beside me, and so again I seize upon the repose from walking and talking to put pen to paper. We have, in the past two hours, hiked back down to Capri centro for a pot of gelato at supposedly the best gelateria of the island. They change their flavors on a daily basis (and we should know as we've not missed a chance to sample two flavors at a time on each of the past three days - so far I've tried Bignolata w/Nociatella, Angurria w/Fragola, and Liquizardi w/Cioccolata) and their waffle cones are made fresh on the spot as you order. We then continued down the winding and relatively recently restored Via Krupp to arrive here at the beach.
To recap, yesterday's main event was a long and comparatively luxurious walk along the Pizza Lungo, which took us from the elephantine Arco Naturale, past la Grotta Matermaria, and up to il Porto di Tragara. There, a kind New York lawyer who's been returning annually to that very spot for the past twenty-five years took our photo and assured us that if we sampled the linguine di fontanelina and white sangria, it'd be the best meal we eat in a year. And so, that is exactly what we did before returning home to Villa la Pietra to enjoy the sunset with wine, family and hearty conversation before dinner. It has been an interesting observation, that as travels take on more of a vacation-y feel, suddenly the daily schedule revolves around when and where we will obtain our next meal. In fact, as we chat with tourists along our walks, Johnny's instinctive follow-up question to "how long are you here for?" is "where are you planning on taking your next meal?", which he quickly follows-up with about four or five strong suggestions.
As we walk, Johnny and I have more or less adopted an unspoken formation of habit with him roughly three yards or so in front of me. It is not so much a difference in pace that dictates this order but more of a necessity. Johnny doesn't like to walk in straight lines, but instead his path slithers slightly as his flip-flops smack the stones. He carries on with conversation, side observations and anecdotes over his shoulder to me. With roads often narrower than some LF sidewalks, it's just easier for me to trail slightly. This also affords me the chance to observe more closely as we amble and I puzzle to myself over the words from a sign we've just past or the treks of the little gecko-like lizards that run rampant here. I like to fancy them the squirrels, more or less, of Capri.
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