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Published: October 5th 2010
So every time I write one of these things, I have to go back and look at my last one so I don't repeat anything, and it always surprises me. Seems like my 'emotional' definition of Italy is constantly changing. Last time, Italy was about loneliness and interesting experiences (good and bad) with Italian men. I still remember it all, but things are just so completely different now. Life just has a different... vibe, you know? And it'll probably change again tomorrow.
Let's see now. I left off with my story about hot prosciutto man...
That brings me to my first day of real classes. So I think I'll break this down for you class by class, because otherwise my coherency would be at stake.
(JSYK, my morning routine from a month ago still applies. I'm always at the school between 8:30-9, and my classes have begun every day at 9.)
Italian Language with Roberto, (whom I love, as I said before, and who was totally a hottie when he was just 20 years younger), 3 hrs per week.
Art History with ... crap, I forget her name... Veronica, that's it. 3.5 hrs per week. No okay I just remembered, get this. Her full name is Veronica Calzone. It makes me giggle. Anyway, Art History currently involves lectures with PowerPoints on famous medieval and gothic paintings, particularly those in Siena. Our main objective is to be able to distinguish between the artists, and pay attention to the way style changed as time progressed. In addition to the lectures, we take field trips. Just this past Monday, we went to the Duomo in Siena, which is seriously the most magical architectural achievement I have ever seen. You should type in "Siena Duomo" into your google search bar right now and give it a look. Also, I gave a short presentation on the pulpit in the cathedral (Google "Siena Pulpit Nicola Pisano"), which was an assignment I almost enjoyed. But true story, in class when Veronica introduced the pulpit, and started explaining the symbols of the Liberal Arts and Philosophy, and the Lions, and the Christian Virtues, I actually almost started to cry. Tears, were forming, in my eyes, from looking, at a pulpit. Only a lot humiliating. It's like "Hi Alyssa, did you think you weren't a geek anymore? Yeah, sorry hun, you've got it bad."
I really do have it bad, though. When you can look at designs in a big piece of rock, and suddenly all these memories of Michelangelo's work and your own work and the philosophies of these great artists that allowed them to manipulate these basic symbols and really
express come rushing back, and suddenly you feel like someone has just punched you in the face for allowing the last 4 months of your life to degenerate into an
aimless existence, and all at once you fill right up with that unbearable ambition, from your toes to your crown, and there is nothing you want more in the entire world than to satisfy it, you will spend your
entire life striving to see it realized...
Well, that's when you know it's hopeless.
(If you find yourself writing about how you cry during school PowerPoints, that could be a clue, too.)
This started out as a quick summary of my classes.
Art Restoration, 9 hrs per week, (!!! reflect on that for a minute, please), with Filippo. I don't even think he has a last name. (Actually he definitely does, but what I'm trying to say here is that he really just doesn't need one.) Filippo likes to roll his own cigarettes while he explains to us the serious, self-disciplined nature of restoration work. He likes to spend his breaks going to the bar across the street to get a beer. His English is slow, and very quiet, but don't let this mislead you. Direct quote from Thursday's class: "I want to switch on the radio and know that he has died." (Filippo on Sandro Bondi, an Italian politician under Berlusconi).
Filippo is also a brilliant restorer, and he's picky when it comes to details. That's okay, so am I. In the past two weeks, our class has spent about 5 solid hours drawing lines. Straight lines. Thousands of them. As close together as physically possible. And if even one of them is off, he will make you start over.
Little anecdote on me and Filippo's relationship. As most of you know, I am left-handed. As most of you also know, if you were to put the pencil I'm holding so that it's parallel to the ground, my hand would look like a brontasaurus eating some pink eraser-shaped grass. Well, the first day of line drawing, Filippo noticed these things. And for the first time since I was in 6th grade with Ms. Bachand, Filippo pulled what every single one of my elementary school teachers tried to pull.
He tried to make me grip my pencil 'the right way'.
I almost started a fight. My fist was about an inch away from his face when I thought better of it and instead kicked him in the balls. Yeah, I'm just kidding about that. But I was very dangerous in that moment. My left-handed 'strangeness' is a huge part of me; it's one of the only things I feel I've ever stood my ground for, that I haven't sacrificed for the sake of appeasement. In that moment, me and Filippo's relationship hung in the balance. If he had chosen to follow through with it, the loathing would have commenced. And I'm honestly serious about this, I probably would have dropped the class. No one fucks with my left hand. My pride and joy.
Luckily, I'm good at lines. This little 'wrong' left hand of mine stuck it to the man a long, long time ago, and showed everyone else's stupid 'right' right hands up. It decided hey, you know what? I'm gonna write,
and draw, and I'm gonna do it
better than you, and I'm gonna do it
my way.
Zac likes to say I'm Filippo's favorite now. In truth, this isn't the case. But there is no doubt that he is infinitely amused, and, quite frankly, flabbergasted, by my precision with the lines. One time he made me try it on the easel, and after watching for a minute, he remarked, "It really is more easy for you, isn't it."
Yes, Filippo. It really is.
This has not met it's expectation in being a quick summary of my classes.
Drawing Independent Study (1 hr per week, but most of the work is outside of class) with Lisa. She is a recently graduated post-bacc sculpture student. She is bubbly and has a lot of nervous energy. Due to this, she wouldn't seem to be the type of 'great sculptor' that one would normally expect - or at least, I wouldn't. Good news is that she is. In fact she's awesome. And not only with sculpture; she's gone into a lot of mixed media in the past few years. You can check out her website here: http://lisanonken.com/news.html
This class is opportunity staring me in the face. It feels huge to me, especially after Ambition came rap-a-tap-tapping on my door in Art History class. I wrote this truly obscene (and by obscene I mean disgustingly bold) art proposal, outlining my plans for the semester. It's a huge, huge project. By the end of the semester, with luck and a whole ridiculous amount of determination, I'll have a body of work concerning my own spirituality, responding to the various religious masterpieces of Gothic and Renaissance Italy, and of course my life here and in general. I'm scared shitless. I've never done anything like this before. But it's about time I got off my ass and started to really finish what I started when this 'I wanna be an artist' idea popped into my head.
Side note about how excited I am about the project. I have so many ideas. Too many. This could be incredible for me. No - it will.
So Lisa and I have done a lot of talking, and she's given me some great tools to get started. We've even been to sketch at one of the art museums in Siena,
Santa Maria della scala, already. *Did you know Italians only capitalize the first word in titles (excluding names of course)? A lot simpler than the nonsense we have to deal with.*
Final conclusion here is to let my left hand lead the way. If I can set my mind to sketching the way I've set my mind to writing, saldkfjasd;lfhsgkfa;slkdj. I can't wait.
*As you will see, I'm finally about to get lazy with my story-telling, so from this point on, I will be noticeably curter. (curter? more curt? whatever.)*
Italian Culture with Roberto, 3 hrs per week. All Italian, it's basically the History of Siena. I haven't taken a history class since Matthew Perrin's government class in high school. It's weird learning about feudalism again, but this time calling it
feudalesimo. Roberto also likes to take us on little Siena field trips on Fridays. We just walk around the city and look at stuff. His favorite game is, "Is that building original Gothic (1300s), traditional Gothic (1600s), or NeoGothic (1800s)?" I always lose.
Italian Language with Debora, 1.5 hrs per week. All in Italian, again. I was not originally a fan of this, because Debora was kinda snitty to me at the beginning. But this past week was cool. We had a little debate about the Harry Potter movies vs. the books. Time for an 'If, Then' statement. IF I am opinionated on the subject, THEN the debate will be fun for me. My experiment proved my hypothesis.
There's one other class yet to be had, and that's my Lit class at the University in Siena. Or if you want the real name,
"Letteratura italiana moderna e contemporanea: Poesia". That's gonna be between 5-7 hrs per week, one of those hours being a meeting with Roberto to discuss the class. Basically I'm auditing at the University, but I'm only doing assignments given to me by Roberto. It starts tomorrow. Goal is to make some Italian friends, and not be totally clueless about what's going on. Wish me luck.
On weeknights, I've been a big lame-o. I've been leaving my computer at school, because Facebook is bad, bad news for my mental stress level. This decision has yielded some positive results. Usually, I come home 'round 6, do some hwk, write in my journal, eat dinner, and then go to bed. I'm usually in bed by 10:30. Can you believe it?! Last year, my earliest bedtime was 2am, and often 4am. I don't know who I think I am. But I DO know that it feels wonderful, and my days seem more rewarding.
Every wednesday, Dafne and I hang out for 2 hours and talk in English, because her mom wants her to practice. We have a blast. Last week I was trying to explain to her what "Hold on" means. This was impossible, because in Italian, there is no word for "hold"; instead, there are a whole bunch of different words that mean different kinds of 'holding'. Like, you can 'hold' (cradle) a baby, 'hold' (grip) a tree branch, 'hold' (take) a jacket, etc. She couldn't stop laughing at me. It was a blast.
Oh, and also this past Wednesday, we found the english version of Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone, so we did a reading exchange. Dafne read two pages to me in English, and I read two pages to her in Italian. I am looking forward to next week.
Last weekend was decent, and improved as it went on. Friday I watched the Passion for the first time, and then went out for 2 hours with my friends. Saturday I went to a wine tasting at Montechiaro Estates, my first wine tasting. I took a zillion pictures. We also walked all the way back home, a 3 hour hike back to Siena. I was wearing rain boots. This was a poor choice, because the day turned out to be baking hot, and not rainy. My walk was painful.
Sunday, I did pretty much nothing, except I did take a gorgeous 4mi run at the Fortress. (God, I'm going to miss saying that word in regular conversation after I get home.) I later took a nap, and then went back to take pictures of my running route. I then ate and went to bed, and that was the extent of my Sunday. It was beautiful.
A lot of my days the past 2 weeks have been anxiety-ridden about my physical health. I feel like Rocco. (haaahahaha, kill myself again.) I won't indulge you, because it was a pain in the ass and I hated it and I'm trying to convince myself it's all over. Just take my word for it that it's not fun dealing with health issues in a foreign country.
In better news, this weekend was OKTOBERFEST! I was bummed when I realized actually
going to Germany for the experience would be impossible, but it totally didn't matter. You see, Siena decided to have their very own Oktoberfest celebration. In the center of the Fortress, a giant (GIANT) white tent. 30oz beers. A live German band, decked out in traditional costume. Huge pretzels, a life-size chess game, hundreds and hundreds of people, mostly a sausagefest, rows and rows of picnic-style tables. The place was PACKED. The announcer would yell out songs and chants and occasionally just let out an ear-splitting rally cry, and the place would go nuts. Everyone pounding the tables in time with the band, the majority of us yelling for no apparent reason, with everyone else yelling back. People were standing on the tables and chugging blockbusters and doing the chicken dance.
I obviously had a horrible time.
Sarah and I went Friday night with Fabio and a whole bunch of his friends, who all have names that have something to do with Marco. Zac and Lisa-Ray joined us later too, and it was ridiculous. After, we went to sketchy-bar-that-has-a-free-bathroom-where-we-usually-hang-out-on-weekends and bought cheaper beers and just laughed a whole lot about nothing that I can remember being exceptionally funny. Saturday night (last night) was the majority of the SSLA gang, including Fabs and Anya. The chicken dance was our favorite part, and we rocked it. I also ate the most glorious piece of pizza in my life. And it was good. (bible reference)
I set my sleeping in record today, not waking up till 1:30pm. Since, I've been attempting lift-off with my drawing project, and it's going slow, but I'll get there. Remind me to buy a skull in the next few days; I need to study it for sketching.
DONE! You're caught up. And my back is sore from sitting slouched like this on my bed, so I'm happy to be done. Now, to slouching in the chair in the living room, where there's internet, so I can post this shit. And then to drawing again.
Sending love and missing-vibes (what?) to everyone back home. Please send me anything about your lives that you possibly have time to share, because I'm horribly deprived over here. If you wanna send me a letter, DO IT! My address is:
Via Tommaso Pendola 37
Siena, Italy 53100
Or if that's too much to deal with, (which I totally understand, because I'm too cheap to buy stamps, which is why I haven't even sent one letter yet and instead prefer the glorious free-ness of the Internet), you know what to do. Email, facebook messages, you can even txt me if you want, just send the txt to my email address (alyssa.kerr@gmail.com). It works, I promise. Just make sure you put your name in the text, because I don't have my phone contacts list with me.
Okay. Done now for real. Talk to you ruffians later.
Lys
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my favorite part was the bible reference! p.s. these make my day