Italy Post #12

Dear Readers,
I really do like to write poetry. If you follow my blog in any way shape or form you should know this. But really readers, I do. I love the way words can wrap themselves around images, the delicate tendrils of sound and rhythm. I've never taken a poetry class. Before this semester (cue evil laugh). Yes, I'm hoping for a lot of things this semester, but one main goal is to completely get outside of myself and write poetry that I would have never thought of writing. Example one - the poem I wrote today. While I didn't quite take myself out of the poem, I never thought I would be cool enough to write a monologue, and while it may not be the best monologue EVER, it is a monologue. With meaning.

So, let me know what you think! Its due tomorrow, so feedback will probably be a little past the fact, but I'd still love to hear your thoughts/comments/critiques. I also should tell you all that the context for this poem is a little strange: we are supposed to take a figure in a painting or decoration from the monastery and write from their perspective. There are these weird little faces that decorate the cupola on the second floor and I've always found myself looking at them. So I decided to write from one of their perspectives.


On Stopping Underneath the Cupola

Would you place, dear girl, take me
from this chilly white wall where I have rested
so long in a frozen smile, the last
thought of an artist whose hair was greasy
and hands were careless as he moulded
the everlasting features that I have stared
down through the centuries with while
nuns with downcast eyes never cared to
grace me and look up, and new students
have done nothing but shun me.

Take me out into the garden,
rich with a painting of purple and
green. . . .

NO! Do not remind me of what I am
missing, flesh-colored stone grown to
life, dark stones beneath my feet, yellow
walls sprayed with bouganvelia and tormented
by bees. Do not talk of these things.

Does the sun still shine as bright as it did
back then, when golden light pierced the sky
with intent. . . .

Why does no one look? Does no one see
my cold features, staring from up above with
disdain, stuck inside the ninth level of Hell
with the betrayers. What was my sin, sickening
girl, with breezy curls and wide blinking eyes?
Tell me!

Wait, do not go at the beckon of those living, breathing
bodies you call friends! They will all leave you, just
as I have been cast aside into the dim light
of a dingy cupola to forever stare into the patterns
of the red tiles and count the dust particles that fly
like eagles in front of my stone cold
eyes.

Italy Post #11

Dear Readers,
I apologize for the length of time which I will term my "absence". Yes, yes, I know the story, you waited by your computer every night this past week in anticipation only to be let down, yet again, by my lack of communication. Believe me, I would have rather been on my computer, pouring my heart out in electronic text to you all than studying for finals. But alas, this was my fate.

Yes, it was finals week last week. I can say that cheerfully at the moment because it is over and done with, but at the time I felt like I was slowly traveling through Dante's Inferno. Let me just rant a bit: Weds was a memorization test (80 slides with name, date, artist, location, and medium), Thurs was a group project (we got the worst one - Renaissance Humanism, which is wayyyy too broad to cover anything), and Fri was the individual paper (mine was on Fra Angelico). Blah. It was horrible.

Yet, as I was strolling the streets of Orvieto this morning without the weight of homework strapped to my back, I felt the joy of taking one class at a time. Yes, there is a period of crunch time once a month; but this is balanced with the fact that there is only one subject to focus on. Its quite comforting. And I get a great period of rest in between. For instance, I woke up this morning at 9:30, leisurely made my way around the market at 10:30, and sat at a cafe reading Dante until 12:45. It was fabulous. I can do whatever I want for the next day and a half because I have no homework clouding my fun.

Its great. Buonissimo! And the next break I have to look forward to is only in a month, and hopefully will be filled with people that I love who made plans to come visit me in this little walled city on a cliff. In conclusion - this is great!

Remembrance

About what we don’t learn - this is life,
the worn slacks that belonged to you, packed
away between crates of pantyhose and Christmas
decorations; I didn’t realize their impact

until you showed me the importance of
remembrance. Oma - the name I repeated
as a child, the trips to Delaware with air you could
slice with a knife and hanging gardens of succulent

life ready to be plucked; this is what I remember.
Those old photographs - can’t you see them -
dusty, yellowed moth’s wings screened with an ink
from the past and the bleary eyes that stared back

from them. That was a time apart from mine,
calloused with the scraping of pennies against
palms. You must have worried back then.
I worry too. The fingers of time push hard against

my back, propelling me into a cobwebbed future.
How do I chisel a life for myself out of a block
of stone? Michaelangelo had a vision; all I see
is a white marble slab before me, with nothing but a few

veins of promise running though its rough surface.
To give breath to Pygmalion. To return to the past.
This is our task - to share the remembrance of
worries, the way breathing begins to hang like ivy in

the blue night. The chrysanthemums bend to
listen. And suddenly, a clear shot in the darkness,
icy fresh as the past overwhelms me once more in the
soft leather couches, holding rusty picture albums as

your weathered hands sift through the moth wings you
call photos and the presence of home slaps me in
the face with the realization that
remembrance is my heritage.

And you are with me.

Italy Post #10

Dear Readers,
I'm supposed to be in Florence right now. Probably sitting by myself in some cafe somewhere a few steps from the river Arno, sipping on a sugary cappuccino and sketching in my moleskin.

But I'm not. I'm in Orvieto. As always.

It was the great debate last night as to whether I would go or not. I've been feeling under the weather (and apparently the elements have decided to make that a reality - its been raining for the past 3 days). Not sick; no stuffy nose, no sore throat, not even a small cough or two. My MS has been acting up, making my feel numb and my legs heavy, and that's something I can't cure with a couple of ibuprofens and a hot glass of tea. Unfortunately.

So this morning I woke up after 6 hours of sleep, ate breakfast, packed my bags with every intention of getting on the train with everyone else; I almost made it too, if only Christine (our wonderful RA) hadn't caught me taking the elevator down instead of walking the steps. She questioned me as to why, and when I explained that I didn't feel safe because my feet are numb and I have balance issues, she expressed her concerns with me walking in Florence. I have to admit though, I completely agree with her. MS is always a guessing game - how much should I do, how far can I walk, will this hurt me in the long run? I don't want to miss out on the rushing waters of the Arno (and the Orsanmichele, monastery San Marco, the David, Boboli Gardens, etc.....you get the picture) but I also don't want to end up hurting myself more. Its such a delicate balance that I'm still trying to figure out.

But, as to not add to the seeming dire-ness of this situation, I AM in Orvieto, sitting here at a cafe in the twilight, sipping on my creamy cappuccino while sketching the cobblestone streets and the ancient buildings that surround me. Its wonderful! I could stay in this town forever, but I always think I would feel like a tourist. The people know each other here better than any community I've ever seen. Even the few Italian friends that I've made here (the nuns, Alessandro - our Italian teacher) I can find out and about, always ready to stop for a kiss hello and a few Italian pleasantries. It's so intimate.

(LEXY ALARI: Don't read this!!! I wrote you a letter all about it!) Finally, before my internet time runs out, Story of the Week: last night I decided to take the scenic route back from dinner, which takes a loop up the corso (main street) and around to the duomo, then turns back toward the Monastery San Paolo. I was sitting, staring at the duomo as usual, when the front doors, which must be around 30 ft. tall, opened! I couldn't believe it! So, being the curious pumpkin that I am, I walked inside. Turns out there was a free concert that night that I'd stumbled on to. It wasn't very good, but I was just so excited to participate in something unusual for me, but completely usual for the people of Orvieto. I guess it was the kind of great community-building experience that I was in need of, to remind me of the differences between here and home. And make me grateful for being here, even if I'm not in Florence.

Italy Post #9

Dear Readers,
Yes, this is the 2 week anniversary of my journey to Orvieto. Exciting, no? Well, to celebrate, I'd thought I'd let you all in on a little bit of normal Orvieto life just to get a feel for the program. The directors and many of the teachers advocate a pseudo Catholic/monastic life here. No, they don't cloister us (I know that's what you were thinking) but they do encourage us to spend more time than usual in contemplation, in church, in regular daily activities that constitute a very steady life. A monastic life. Sort of.

So, here's the basic schedule of events in the day of a pseudo-Catholic/monastic student:
7:30 - Anna wakes me up
8:15 - Optional prayer and praise in the chapel
9:00-noon - Class, right now a Renaissance art history course which is turning me steadily more Catholic
12:45 - Lunch at Locanda del Lupo
2:00-8:00 - Free time; exception: Weds. Italian class from 2:15-whenever Alessandro stops talking

All of this time is peppered with breaks and the occasional cappuccino (which I can make now!!!). The people on the program are all pretty motivated, and its a nice change to have a whole environment dedicated to a steady stream of events. I'm also beginning to learn the quirks of this place. For example, the best gelato in town can be found in the piazza of the Duomo and the park right down the street has a secret fig tree where you can go when you're hungry. I know there's lots more to discover and learn about this place, but for now I'm taking my time to do it. One of my favorite things to do so far is to go to the refectory and play the old, beaten down piano in there (seriously, the thing is SO out of tune); its not the greatest sounding thing in the world, but the acoustics are amazing and the whole fact that I'm in a monastery singing in a great room just makes the whole thing that much better.

Well, that's all for now. Classes are going moderately well, we only have one more week after this of the Renaissance class. The homework load is a lot though for something I don't care that much about; it's a great subject and its great to learn, but there is a part of me that just wants to save my energy for the poetry class......

One more thing: I'm so sorry about this, but I don't think the picture posts are going to be happening. The internet is sketchy as it is right now, and I don't think that an hour would be enough time to upload a few photos. You'll all just have to come visit me once I get home and I can tell you ALL about them!!!

Love!

Italy Post #8

Dear Readers,
Today has been the first restful day since I left my couch in Oakdale. It seems like every day has been loaded with something new and exciting, which in reality means that it has been entirely draining. And wonderful. But that’s beside the point.

Don’t get me wrong - I’m absolutely loving it here; I know this semester is exactly what I need, to figure things out, to get back to a good place in my life in general, to think. I wouldn’t have it any other way. But at the same time, I’m exhausted. I’m adjusting to a new way of life, new food, new friends, new routines and schedules, and an art history class that seems way too hefty to fit into 3 weeks. All of that on top of a schedule which looks like its had one to many plateful of pasta the way its spilling over its belt. The one thing consoling me at this point is that Matt, Christine (the RA) and Dr. Skillen are super-attentive. In a good way. They meet with me frequently about my symptoms, exhort me to tell them in what ways they could help and if I’m having any more problems. Dr. Skillen has even given me permission to miss a few classes if I’m having too many problems. The care they show me is something I’ve never experienced. They’ve also encouraged me to share my disease with all of the students at the meetings we have daily; I’ll be the first to share (we all have to do it). While the community here sometimes seems too small, its going to be great to have everyone know.

I stayed up late last night; Orvieto had something like a fair called “Shopping under the stars” where all of the shops stayed open later than usual and about 30 bands were dispersed all over the city in the various piazzas. So I woke up late today; we usually don’t have class on Fridays, but the rest of the group went to the scheduled activity for the day. It was hard to say no to a trip to Siena, but I decided for the first time in a long time to listen to my body. So I slept in. Then I got up and made a HUGE cappuccino for myself. It was great! The rest of the day went much the same way, some cleaning, some laundry, a lot of resting.

I think this is going to be one of my focuses for the semester: listening to myself. I often put my own body by the wayside for my own wants, whether that’s running the extra mile or laying on the couch for one more hour. I’ve trained myself to get what I want, not what I need. And then all of that stress and fatigue builds up until my body fails, just like it did this summer when I couldn’t walk. Or sit up. So I’m going to pay attention and do something good for myself - rest.

Italy Post #7

Dear Readers,
I cried in earnest today. Not for the first time either, sadly. Its not that I don’t want to be here. Its not even that I’m homesick, although I do find myself missing Westmont. Or maybe just the community at Westmont. I’m disoriented by my place in this small group of people; I’m not the chapel band singer, the Writers’ corner tutor, or even the English major. It’s terrifying to stand on my own again, without any labels to back me up, no activities to prove my worth in this place. I’m finding it difficult not to refer to the things that I’m known for at Westmont, whether its chapel band or chamber singers; I can’t avoid these labels, but at the same time I want to distance myself from them, to be known just as Erika.

I posted earlier that I was surprised to see how close everyone was getting. I don’t regret that post, and I don’t want to make it seem untrue. I’ve made great friends here already, and I hope that in the end I will be friends with everyone here. Yet both my roommate and I have noticed that the Gordon people are starting to become a clique - they sit at the same table every meal, they include each other exclusively in their outings, they talk amongst themselves with no extra effort to include others. Its not frustrating because I’ve definitely found good friends among the people on this program, but it still gives me a lot of sadness.

Which leads directly into why I cried tonight. Its been so frustrating being here and having MS. At Westmont its not that big of a problem - if I’m having symptoms, I deal with them directly, whether that’s sleeping more, choosing my classes wisely, or even just walking a lot slower than everyone else. I can’t do that here. We all take class together at the same time, from 9-12. There are also a lot of trips involved, which usually include a rigorous amount of walking; its not quite ideal. While I’ve come to realize the drawbacks with this program, I’m also in a controlled community - there are 24 of us. Matt and Dr. Skillen want me to present my situation to the whole group (everyone has to do something like this, so its not weird); that would mean my entire community would have that knowledge of me. No more explaining, no more awkward absences - everyone would know.

But not only this medical concern has been on my mind - Dad has. I can’t help it - I worry. I worry that this trip was the wrong thing, that I’ll regret not having stayed home for the rest of my life (melodramatic yes, but still...), that I’ll be missing out on some precious time. I know life is tempermental and we have that enduring hope in the return of Jesus. But I still worry; I can’t help it. And I think that’s the thing that really hit home tonight - when I found out Dad was alright, all of those worries rushed to the surface of my mind, while before this time I had been restraining them in the interest of my own health and the trip.

So I bottled it in. I didn’t cry, I just went back to the sala and studied. Dinner came around; people gathered in groups and left for the Locanda del Lupo. I ran back to my room for a jacket and followed another Gordon student into sala to wait for any other stragglers who might still be around. After a few minutes of sitting in silence, the Gordon student got up and left for dinner without a word. And without me. I think that was when I really broke down. I realized that in this moment, in this culmination of emotion and sadness, I have no one around me who knows me, who could talk me through it and comfort me.

So what’s the rest of the story? I walked to the restaurant in tears, arrived on the brink of breaking down, and finally my friend Becky took me on a walk so I could regain composure. I ended up making it through dinner without another episode, then went to the duomo by myself and cried. And cried. Then I came back to the monastery and cried. I’m crying right now.

And I think its OK.

Italy Post #6

Dear Readers,
Its surprising how close I am to people already on this trip. Yes, there are people who came with good friends, and yes they do seem exclusive at times. Yet there is this sense of togetherness that our group has already embraced, a sense that we are all in the same situation. I feel comfortable talking with every person on this trip. Even though I gravitate to particular personalities, there is no one particularly intimidating.

We had our first chunk of free time today. There are so many things I want to do in this town that it was hard to decide on one, but I concluded that a relaxing walk to the park would fit the mood of the day the best. As I was walking out of the monastery, I came across a friend who was also going out; we decided to go to the park together. We talked for a couple hours; I couldn't think of a better way to spend an afternoon. The park was on the edge of the cliff (which really isn't very far anywhere you go here) and we sat on a bench overlooking the surrounding valleys and talked, talked about ourselves, our beliefs, our struggles, our hopes for the coming semester. I don't often feel recharged by people I don't know well, yet this long conversation gave me such an excitement about my time here in Italy. These people are my companions and my friends for the next 4 months. I think I'm starting off pretty well. :0)

Rome update: It was amazing and exciting and tiring and beautiful. The whole city is a collage between the ancient and the modern. Basically, it stunned me with its simplicity and its energy.

Italy Post #5

Dear Readers,
I’m learning each day how much there is to learn about Italy. And how much I don’t know. The past few days have been filled with long lessons about the people of Italy, the town of Orvieto, and Gordon’s place in it.

Italy is so much different than the states in both good and bad ways. People dress up (like, really dress up), they don’t have air conditioners in their homes, they eat carbs. A lot of carbs. Each day is like a new adventure into the culture of Orvieto.

I went on a walk this morning. I woke up at 5 and couldn’t get back to sleep, so at 6:30 as the sun was finally coming up over the hills, I stepped out of the iron gates of San Paolo to walk around the base of the cliffs of Orvieto. No one was out; I had the whole city to myself. As I made my descent from the cobblestone streets to the dirt path that wraps around the “tufa” stone that gives Orvieto its unique-ness, I encountered another culture in the rock and cement. Orvietans take care of the place they have been given, using modern technology to solve ancient problems. They inject cement into the soft rocks that are the base of the cliffs to make the city more stable. They chop down invasive trees to protect the view that the city provides. They create paths and walks around the city to further enrich the experience of living in Orvieto. Even the Duomo is being cleaned at the moment, a routine event that keeps the cathedral out of harm’s way. The city has found ways to work around its space issues, revering its medieval roots, yet not shunning technology.

Of course, the town isn’t perfect. And is there a possibility that I’ve romanticized it? More than a possibility, I’d say. But, I think that speaks for the time I’m having here. Each day is filled with a routine, but a routine that varies so much that it doesn’t feel old. I don’t think I could ever get used to the beauty of this place.

Off to Rome tomorrow!!!

Italy Post #4

Dear Readers,
The purpose of this blog is to record the daily realizations that I come to, the small yet necessary decisions and revelatory epiphanies that make up my life. Italy has already shown me so much in the ways I need to change and the ways in which culture can organically shape a nation. While the experience has been disorienting, it has also shown me a side of humanity that I never would have seen before. I want to write about the changes I see in myself and the world around me, to record the most intimate details of my experiences and comment on the landscape and culture in which I live.

But I realize this is also a travel blog, at least for the next 4 months. Which means if you are reading this, you want to know what I’m doing. So this post is going to be an update. Ready for this? You may want to prepare a little, get a glass of water (or vino perhaps), bake a batch of chocolate chip cookies.....

OK, here we go: The past 48 hours have been filled. Filled to the brim, maybe a little bit overflowing if you asked me. But they have been amazing hours, each one filled with something more exciting than the last. We arrived in Rome at 8:30am. That was horrible. Seriously. I had actually dozed for about 2 hours on the plane ride over which was better than nothing and much better than a lot of other people had fared. Matt (our director) was there to pick us up and insisted on keeping us up as well to help with the jet lag. So we immediately got on the bus and traveled to Orvieto, playing cards and watching the grape vines and olive orchards fly by.

My first view of the town can only be described in one word: breathtaking. Although I don’t have a picture to show you (yet), I can tell you that the town is set on top of a cliff. The whole city rises from the plain, adding to the surreal-ness of this whole experience. The duomo (cathedral) is your first sight as it dominates the city with its vertical height and the incredible size of it. We drove up to the base of the city and walked our bags the rest of the way to the monastery which was a lot of physical exertion for so much sleep deprivation. After getting partially settled, we had a series of meetings and tours around the monastery and a small walk around town to orient us. Lunch was amazing - huge salads and endless bowls of home-made bread. Dinner was just as delicious, especially because it was followed with a trip to the gelateria. I think it hit me then that I was in Italy, as we sat on the steps of the duomo and enjoyed a true Italian treat.

I woke up today rested for the first time since I was in Oakdale. It felt wonderful to enjoy myself here; I guess it felt more like I was living in this town today. We started today off with a walk around the bottom of the cliffs of Orvieto, then made our way into the town and inspected the duomo for a while. All the while Matt would stop us and talk for a while, explaining the Italian way of life and the ways in which we should be exploring and questioning ourselves and the places we have lived. This was all summed up by a very intense walk up to the top of the bell tower which is the center of Orvieto and provides a completely panoramic view of the whole countryside. It was amazing. Lunch followed, with conversation among our group centering on the importance of art and theater in life. Then another meeting, and now, internet time.

This trip has been completely amazing so far. Even though its only been 2 days, I feel at home in this small town yet terribly out of place. I don't speak Italian. I don't understand the ways of life in this place. I don't feel comfortable as an American in this foreign place. But, I'm hoping this will gradually fade as I get more used to navigating the streets, speaking the language, and interacting with the town and the people. Matt and the other directors are doing an excellent job of integrating us into the town - for example, tonight we're having a get-together with the nuns who share this building with us, and tomorrow we're having families from around town host small groups of us in their homes. I also learned today that there is a church where we're encouraged to join the choir. I feel like I'm definitely going to be fitting in here sooner than I think.

Italy Post #3

Dear Readers,
The past 24 hours has been a time of first impressions. A first impression can only carry you so far, yet in that small time span of measurement, calculation, and judgement you can make certain assumptions and predictions. The first person I met at the airport in DC was a girl from my program; her name is Jodi and I happened to bump into her. Over the next few hours, several of us accumulated into a mass of people. There were a lot of introductions, some hesitation, and certainly a willingness to get to know one another.

I mentioned in an earlier post the anxiety I felt over the strain of getting to know new people. There is a certain vulnerability in that situation. You have to put yourself out there, let people judge you on your presence (or lack of it), make sure you don’t misrepresent yourself. Little things like the way you eat your food or that small scar underneath your left eyebrow become the way in which you are perceived. It’s frightening and exhilarating at the same time.

I can’t say that I’ve had the best time so far in Orvieto, what with a 5 hour flight to DC then a 7 hour flight to Rome. I’ve been up for almost 24 hours straight right now, my eyes are slightly starting to cross and I feel like my head is filled with 5 extra pounds of weight. Meeting up with the entire group for the program was disorienting in itself, connecting with so many new people, trying to figure out their life stories, their situations, their goals for the program. My mind was stressing out just trying to figure out how the group dynamics would work. But we got ahold of ourselves as a group. Its only been 24 hours and I feel like I know this small collection of people intimately; we’ve all shared the same experience of traveling and playing cards on the bus, from hiking up the hill to the monastery with all of our luggage to the amazing salads we had for lunch. We are all united in the surreal-ness of the situation, the reality that we’re actually here walking the cobblestone streets. That might have partially come from the sleep deprivation though.

I remember telling one friend at Westmont that I didn’t think I was ready to go abroad until this year. As a senior I’m coming with more experience than most people in the group, but this experience comes with a sacrifice: one half of my last year at Westmont is taken. I can’t help wondering what it is like there at this very moment, if my friends are missing me, if chapel band and choir will be the same when I come back. I wish I could put the world on hold while I traveled. This trip is for me; its for my growth as a person academically, spiritually, but mainly socially. I don’t think I’ve ever had the confidence before to throw myself into a new situation, a strange environment where I would be uncomfortable and maybe even miserable. This trip is partially to tell myself that I can do this, I can live on my own and make new friends and experience new things all by myself.