Siena

This past weekend my group and I made a trip to Napoli, Pompeii and Capri. We arrived after a very long day of traveling on Thursday afternoon to the smells, noises and tumultuous energy of the chaotic city. We stepped off the train into an atmosphere that is electric if not suffocating. If Siena has a heartbeat, Napoli is in 24 hour cardiac arrest. The flow of that place is barely a flow; more a rushing surge of humanity and inhumanity, trash and art. Needless to say, it's not my favorite place in the world. But despite all of this, it has a certain pull to it that I can understand, or rather one I can't fully grasp and put a finger on...
maybe it's the pizza (delicious, duh), or the rowdy children on the streets, asking you for a euro with the sweetest eyes and the most sinister of grins. Perhaps it's just the undeniable hospitality of the italians. It remains even in the sketchiest of areas. We arrived the day before the miracle of san gennaro , and we were actually lucky enough to be inside of the Duomo of Napoli while they prepared for the miracle. Our tour guide explained to us that every year, twice a year, this miraculous blood liquefies, but if it doesn't, terrible things happen. For instance, sometime in the 19th century, the blood failed to liquefy and an earthquake rocked the city, destroying monuments, churches and lives. Luckily for us, it liquefied. We all breathed a sigh of relief.
The next day, as if we hadn't enough premonitions of terrible catastrophic natural disasters, we visited the ruins of Pompeii. We got there early enough in the so that the morning haze hung around the columns and crumbling volcanic stones that once were homes and palaces. Vesuvius hung in the background like a sleeping giant. We walked carefully so as not to wake it. That is to say until I took a not so graceful spill onto the time-worn and smooth cobblestones. We followed a stray dog we named Carl throughout the ruins. He would wait for us as we struggled to keep up on our two legs. Pompeii was glorious and sad and scary and hauntingly beautiful.
Saturday we had to ourselves, and everyone made a pilgrimage to the not so far island of Capri. Capri rises out of the Mediterranean like a sparkling emerald, all cliff and greenery and whitewashed houses, impossibly perched into the crevices of the island. I met up with Allegra and sat in the square, watching as an elegant wedding party made their pilgrimage from the church to the hotel Quisisana, where my grandfather spent his R&R during WWII. We said or goodbyes to each other and the island, and crawled our way back on the ferry, across the small stretch of turquoise sea to the city. The next day, after a brief but interesting trip to an archeological museum, we headed back to the train station where we were hauled back through the country and into the heart of Tuscany. Being away, especially to a place like Napoli, has given me clarity on the small nuances and quiet grace of a small city like Siena. I missed it. I don't even want to think of what it'll be like to leave it for good.

The city has been raining here now for what seems like days. I don't think even the rain can dampen the beauty of this country. The inhabitants still walk in their impossibly high shoes on the slippery cobblestones. I have no clue how there are not more broken ankles around this place. I am wishing I brought my rainboots, but perhaps I will buy a pair at the wednesday market.

The other day we took a bit of a field trip to an archeological site with the group to a little town not very fall away called Poggibonsi. Shortly after arriving we were informed that the site, a medieval fortress, was approximately 4+ miles away. So we began to hike. Up. and up. and up. The only thing I can say is thank the lord that Siena is hilly as well or I would have been toast. Sweaty, tired toast.
However, it is more than fair to say that the heavy breathing and aching muscles were well worth it. From the top, we had a breathtaking panoramic view of the Tuscan countryside, encompassing renaissance castles, sprawling vineyards and craggly olive groves. At the very top we could see the rolling hills all around us, a gorgeous monastery looming close by, sharing the same hill top. We stayed and meandered through the old fortezza, picking wild blackberries and figs, lingering just long enough for the bells of the monastery to call the young archeologists home, dusty and tired. We strolled through the lines of wine grapes, snapping pictures and stealing small snacks of juicy fruit.
By the time we got home, it was time for my roommate Caroline's birthday. We brought pizza and wine to the piazza il Campo and joined in with the humming populus of the sleepless Senese. Seriously. I don't think the Italians sleep. Ever. We called it a night around 2:30 (we had class the next morning at 11) and our Italian bartenders/friends (yes we're now friends with the bartenders....) wondered why we were going home so early? Was something wrong? They generally call it a night around 4-5am, yet somehow find a way to be up, talking loudly, opening garages, cleaning their streets and ringing their bells at 7am. That's the other thing. The bells. I think it's special only to Siena. Every hour (3 minutes before the hour), a series of bells go off from the tall belltowers of the three main churches, il Duomo, San Domenico, and San Francesco. Now, I say that they start 3 minutes before the hour. And I mean it. I also mean it when I say that the bells do not stop until at least 1 minute into the hour. Every hour. Every day. Eventually I'm sure I could get used to it, but for now, it's about the only source of irritation here for me. So naturally I focus most of my energies on hating the bells. Odio le campane. We learned that today in class.

Well I'm off to enjoy a free dinner at an abbey not far from here. More on that later

So I'm here in Siena. Finally.

My apartment is huge and..well...European. My Italian is improving, granted at the speed of a chiocciola (a snail and also the name of one of the contrade). I live 5 minutes from il Campo, the heart of Siena and a bustling hub of small Tuscan city life. I'm in awe of the pace here. It's slow yet fast, decadent yet practical. I'm in love with every building I see and every corner I turn on to. I know. I'm in trouble.

I desperately wait for the day when my two Italian roommates move in. Hopefully by then I will be able to speak in conversation. I can understand almost everything everyone says to me...just when it comes to responding....not so much. I only hope that they don't hate americans and especially hate 20 year old american girls who can't speak italian and like to cook, so that they will like me and help improve my Italian. I'm considering doing an exchange of sorts, where my program sets you up with an italian student studying english, and we get together and help each other with our respective studies.

Today I leave for the seaside with some friends of mine from my program as well as Tom (he's coming down from Firenze for the weekend). Fingers crossed it's not a nudie beach!

I'll write more late (I have much to say, still) and post pictures soon!

Ciao a tutti!! Ci vediamo presto!