Every week we had cultural classes; in the first week it had been the perfect complement to our trip to the opera, in week two we were to have a lecture all about Rome as our Saturday trip was all about the history of the capital city.
I will confess that I wasn't very interested in Puccini, but it paid off much later in my year - more on that as we get there. I was, however, a lot more interested in Roman history. I had found the Romans fascinating from being a kid at school and I was actually looking forward to first delving into a bit more history, then going and experiencing it a few days later.
So on our second Wednesday afternoon we were psyched for a bit more Italian culture.
We ran into a problem almost straight away. The first class had been in the school and quite a lot of people came. But that was Puccini and not everyone's keen on opera. The initial signs were that far more people were interested in Rome and so we'd need to take the class into a bigger arena.
I had absolutely no idea where it was. Someone had tried to give me directions but I was still clueless. I was going with Lynette, Gaby and Bree and we found the place by accident. I say by accident, I actually mean by tailing some other people on the course that for some unknown reason, happened to know where we were headed.
Just as we were leaving the rain started. It was much like it had been a couple of days after my arrival: the rain was Biblical. I still didn't have an umbrella and so I was about to get very wet. We hurried along with the storm clouds gathering and managed to get ourselves to the classroom about five minutes late (which, for Italians, it actually early).
As more latecomers began to drift in, you could see how much more the weather was coming in; each person would be slightly wetter than the one before. Fortunately for me, because it had been quite hot, I wasn't layered up, and like Bree, I certainly wasn't wearing jeans. This means I dried out really quite quickly and could focus on Roman banter without sitting in a wet patch.
One of the main lecturers was taking the class. At this point I'd like to explain that though my friends were all similarly aged, and the majority of people were, in fact, young, there were some older folks that had come along for the ride, and let's say there were ever-so-slightly keen.
The first question went thus:
'Can you name the seven hills of Rome?'
The lecturer had a go. He couldn't quite get there, but he wasted about five minutes in trying. I was starting to wish that I was drenched after all as that would certainly take my mind off it all: he could have called them after the seven dwarves and I'd have been none the wiser.
Good start.
The rest of the lecture picked up a little. It turned out to be as interesting as I'd expected and there were plenty of things I learnt that came in handy during my year studying in Verona; but I had no foreknowledge of this and in that moment I was looking forward to Saturday's trip to Rome even more...
Saturday, 25 February 2012
Friday, 24 February 2012
Old Friends
Week two started with great gusto and after having a break on Sunday where I relaxed, did some food shopping, and Skyped my family from the main piazza in Camerino, I was feeling more ready for some more Italian-learning fun.
Building on the banter we'd had in Perugia, I took a seat by Lynette's flatmate in class on Monday morning. I'd kind of forgotten she was in my class - I'd forgotten that anyone else was in my class other than the very, very loud man from the Lebanon. It was nice to have a familiar face in my class. I loved spending time with my desperate friends, but classes still felt like they dragged because the level of banter just wasn't there.
Wendy still wasn't pulling her weight and the only other familiar face (Anna, my flatmate) was being much like her character and a bit of a petulant teenager who felt she was 'too cool for school'. The classes were potentially the thing that I dreaded, and I say dread to be melodramatic - I've been in plenty of classes in my life where I didn't know anyone and you either swallow it and make friends, or swallow it and don't let it bother you.
So I'd thrown myself into Monday morning, taking a seat on the front row with Lynette's flatmate. I was trying to focus on whatever it was we were doing, but I got distracted. The blame for part of this distraction can be laid at the door of a phone call I received - it was from the company I'd taught with. They were desperate, and I mean dseperate for tutors. They had camps coming up and no tutors to staff them. They were embarking on a campaign of carpet bombing tutors with phonecalls and emails hoping one of them would bite and fill the gap that had started to emerge.
What happens is they hire a number of tutors and in the downtime during 'Ferragosto' - the national holiday - quite a lot of whom will go on holiday. What some tutors do however, instead of spending all the money they have just earned, they go home and though the company might be expecting them to stay on into September, if they've thrown in the towel, this isn't going to be an option.
I was one of the tutors they carpet bombed. I was quite overwhelmed to get an offer like that and immediately told them I was busy for the next three weeks. I may not have been enjoying classes as much as I might, but I wasn't ready to sacrifice the money I'd paid trying to learn Italian so I could teach children how to speak English instead.
I thanked them for giving me the deets and the offer, but I told them I'd have to think about it. Basically I had to choose whether I wanted to go on my family holiday or not. The company would pay for get me up to Domodossola in Piemonte (where we would be holidaying) but I would do the standard teaching thing for a week, stay with a family that wasn't my own and only get one week of my family holiday.
It was tempting - it was 250 Euros, but I didn't know if it was worth sacrificing my holiday for. Had this been the plan back in the day, then I would have been fine with it, it was just that I'd psyched myself up for two weeks of holiday and never teaching children again.
After some time I refused the offer. I'd spoken to my family and they felt the same way I did. I hadn't enjoyed my time with the company as much as I might have done - the enjoyment that there was I can attribute to my host family. I didn't want to chance this and get another bad camp but with a bad host family.
All it had succeeded in doing was mean that for the rest of the morning of classes, I paid attention to nothing whatsoever.
Building on the banter we'd had in Perugia, I took a seat by Lynette's flatmate in class on Monday morning. I'd kind of forgotten she was in my class - I'd forgotten that anyone else was in my class other than the very, very loud man from the Lebanon. It was nice to have a familiar face in my class. I loved spending time with my desperate friends, but classes still felt like they dragged because the level of banter just wasn't there.
Wendy still wasn't pulling her weight and the only other familiar face (Anna, my flatmate) was being much like her character and a bit of a petulant teenager who felt she was 'too cool for school'. The classes were potentially the thing that I dreaded, and I say dread to be melodramatic - I've been in plenty of classes in my life where I didn't know anyone and you either swallow it and make friends, or swallow it and don't let it bother you.
So I'd thrown myself into Monday morning, taking a seat on the front row with Lynette's flatmate. I was trying to focus on whatever it was we were doing, but I got distracted. The blame for part of this distraction can be laid at the door of a phone call I received - it was from the company I'd taught with. They were desperate, and I mean dseperate for tutors. They had camps coming up and no tutors to staff them. They were embarking on a campaign of carpet bombing tutors with phonecalls and emails hoping one of them would bite and fill the gap that had started to emerge.
What happens is they hire a number of tutors and in the downtime during 'Ferragosto' - the national holiday - quite a lot of whom will go on holiday. What some tutors do however, instead of spending all the money they have just earned, they go home and though the company might be expecting them to stay on into September, if they've thrown in the towel, this isn't going to be an option.
I was one of the tutors they carpet bombed. I was quite overwhelmed to get an offer like that and immediately told them I was busy for the next three weeks. I may not have been enjoying classes as much as I might, but I wasn't ready to sacrifice the money I'd paid trying to learn Italian so I could teach children how to speak English instead.
I thanked them for giving me the deets and the offer, but I told them I'd have to think about it. Basically I had to choose whether I wanted to go on my family holiday or not. The company would pay for get me up to Domodossola in Piemonte (where we would be holidaying) but I would do the standard teaching thing for a week, stay with a family that wasn't my own and only get one week of my family holiday.
It was tempting - it was 250 Euros, but I didn't know if it was worth sacrificing my holiday for. Had this been the plan back in the day, then I would have been fine with it, it was just that I'd psyched myself up for two weeks of holiday and never teaching children again.
After some time I refused the offer. I'd spoken to my family and they felt the same way I did. I hadn't enjoyed my time with the company as much as I might have done - the enjoyment that there was I can attribute to my host family. I didn't want to chance this and get another bad camp but with a bad host family.
All it had succeeded in doing was mean that for the rest of the morning of classes, I paid attention to nothing whatsoever.
Thursday, 23 February 2012
Some Amusing Things
I'm going to take a brief hiatus from my stories from Camerino to share some amusing things with you. Thus far in the story I've been in Italy for about six weeks and there have been plenty of amusing stories that I've shared with you. This is all well and good, but I want to share some of the amusing observations that I have captured in photographic form.
As I sat at a cafe in Sanremo on my last day in Italy after getting the early bus down from Baiardo. I was enjoying my caffè macchiato when a billboard caught my eye. I found it so amusing that I photographed it. The first bit is of little interest, as is the offer of Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire for 8,90Eur. No, what interests me is the bit in the middle:
'If you pee up against the wall, there will be a fine of 300 Euros.'
Those kind of threats only need to be made if that is a prolific problem. Che schifo.
My next amusing thing comes from Camerino during our tour of the town. There was a room in the university cum town hall that had what looked like crests painted on a wall. This was no ordinary 6' wall - it had an incredibly high ceiling and all four walls were covered in these crests. One of them caught my eye in particular: no bears allowed.
The third amusing thing I want to share with you is a sign I saw at the escalator going into the heart of Assisi. Apparently the Italian doesn't make much sense either, but I'm not sure how one is supposed to adhere to the rule: 'self-starting stairway'.
Oh well you can always 'hold you up at the handrail' and 'keep always the position towards the line march'. Yes.
This next example can also be found in Assisi - in a church on top of the hill. I saw the Pope depicted in statue-form and though he is probably doing something respectable and indeed reverent, all I could think he would say is:
'Would you like an orange?'
My last example can be found in Assisi too; it seems Assisi is just a funny place. And come on, who doesn't find old people on scooters funny. I did see some nuns in an Apecar later that day, but they were going so quickly that I didn't have time to snap them and catch them in the act.
'If you pee up against the wall, there will be a fine of 300 Euros.'
Those kind of threats only need to be made if that is a prolific problem. Che schifo.
Oh well you can always 'hold you up at the handrail' and 'keep always the position towards the line march'. Yes.
'Would you like an orange?'
Wednesday, 22 February 2012
Popping to Perugia
Our trip to Assisi had been good, if a little warm, but I wasn't really in the mood for much more sightseeing that afternoon. Realistically there's only so much a normal person can take in about the Italian Renaissance in one day. When we arrived in Perugia we had to get the monorail into the town. The monorail carriages were basically sweatboxes and though I enjoyed whipping through the air, up to the town, I didn't enjoy everyone else doing it in my personal space.
After meeting with that stunning view when we alighted from the monorail, and headed into the main piazza and the tour began. Bree and Gaby were standing at the front of the party ready to absorb more pub trivia about Italian independence. It just so happened that I didn't want to learn these facts on a sunny Saturday afternoon when I was in the company of friends and shops. It just so happened as well that Lynette wasn't keen, and neither was her flatmate. Cue slightly awkward chat with Bree and Gaby when we divulge this information. They wanted to stay, we wanted to go - there was a very simple solution to this that it took a little too long to realise: they can stay, we can go. This is what we decided to do and we dropped out of the tour after the main piazza.
I don't know where we headed really. We ended up walking down and out of the walled town and into a more run-down residential area. Then again it's Italy, and it's beautiful wherever you go.
We headed down wherever it was we ended up via a number of interesting shops. I bought a banana and some harem pants, tried on some interesting sunglasses and a Valentino Rossi backpack, and had a little ride on a rocking horse before we hit the edge of town: that's my kind of sightseeing.
We started to wend our way back into town. We saw a side of Perugia that most tourists don't - not if all you do is wander round the big churches and the town hall.
This is the part of Italy that I just can't get enough of. Everyone's seen pictures of the famous places, but how many people get to see understated views like that one to my left?
When we discussed Assisi and Perugia later on, I chose Perugia as my favourite. Assisi had been far more spectacular, but Perugia was somewhere I could see myself living. It was the kind of town that had everything you'd want and then some.
We met up again as the sun was beginning to set and headed back down to the coach on the monorail. We got back to Camerino late that evening and I went straight to bed. The following day was a day off for me, Gaby and Bree had paid a little extra to go to Venice, but it was a long way away and in view of the fact I was going to be spending a year in Verona just down the road, I decided against this.
It would give me the chance for some much needed rest, and though things weren't necessarily uncomfortable after the incident with Bree and Gaby in Perugia, I was glad we could have a little break from it all.
We headed down wherever it was we ended up via a number of interesting shops. I bought a banana and some harem pants, tried on some interesting sunglasses and a Valentino Rossi backpack, and had a little ride on a rocking horse before we hit the edge of town: that's my kind of sightseeing.
This is the part of Italy that I just can't get enough of. Everyone's seen pictures of the famous places, but how many people get to see understated views like that one to my left?
When we discussed Assisi and Perugia later on, I chose Perugia as my favourite. Assisi had been far more spectacular, but Perugia was somewhere I could see myself living. It was the kind of town that had everything you'd want and then some.
We met up again as the sun was beginning to set and headed back down to the coach on the monorail. We got back to Camerino late that evening and I went straight to bed. The following day was a day off for me, Gaby and Bree had paid a little extra to go to Venice, but it was a long way away and in view of the fact I was going to be spending a year in Verona just down the road, I decided against this.
It would give me the chance for some much needed rest, and though things weren't necessarily uncomfortable after the incident with Bree and Gaby in Perugia, I was glad we could have a little break from it all.
Perugia, Italy, 2009
Tuesday, 21 February 2012
Seeing Assisi
After spending Friday evening watching Madama Butterfly in Macerata, I was keen for a lie-in on Saturday morning. It had been a full-on week and, quite honestly I needed a break. Saturday wasn't going to be the day for that: we were going for guided tours in first Assisi, then Perugia.
We had to be on the bus reasonably early so that we could get over to Assisi for about midday. Midday - yes, that's when everything's very cold, right? Readers, I was melting. I had a tomato and mozzarella sandwich in my bag - the tomato turned the bread to mush, and the mozzarella melted just like its owner.
We made our way into the city via the 'self-starting stairway' - yeah, I don't know either - and were treated to a wonderful vista. There wasn't a cloud in the sky and everything was in sharp focus (apart from the horizon which was boasting a heat haze - no surprises there). There was absolutely no breeze. You would have thought that there might have been even a whisper of something higher up. There was not.
We were given a few minutes to ourselves in the piazza where the 'self-starting stairway' had 'self-stopped'. We took some pictures, drank a lot of water, huddled in the shade, tried not to pass out... You know the kind of thing.
After that we embarked on our tour. It was like Camerino in that someone would take us around, tell us some interesting things about the place in which we found ourselves, we would take some pictures, and then leave as more well-rounded individuals.
I had discovered that Bree was very much into the culture thing as was Gaby. I liked to think I was, and so we made a very good team. We were taken in and out of town halls and churches, soaking up the sights, and taking some beautiful pictures along the way.
What I really liked about all this was that we always had our own time. We'd get the chat first off, and then we'd get some time to explore and find out for ourselves what the theory looked like in practice.
My favourite bit, however, was still going to be taking the pictures. I had bought my camera especially for my year abroad I was going to make sure I used it at EVERY opportunity...
The tour continued. I snapped happily and Bree and Gaby absorbed what nuggets they could for future pub quizzes. I was quite honestly in my element - well apart from the fact that I was sweating like the proverbial pig and I was going ever so slightly faint.
We reached St Francis' church and made it the last stop on our tour. It sits right on the far side of the town as you look at it and it really is a sight to behold. What I didn't realise is that though you can take wonderful pictures looking away from the church, you can't take that picture (the one where you see the church and all the arches clinging onto the hillside) from the church itself - you have to do it as you come into the city. The church itself was very dark and a bit eerie. By now you should know I'm not a big fan of Catholic churches. This one was supposed to have a very famous fresco in - by Giotto, if I'm not mistaken - but strangely our tour guide hadn't let slip that information.
I started to explore a little and soon found that I'd lost Bree, Gaby and Lynette. I mean I wasn't at the stage where I was panicking, but I did feel a little disconcerted about the whole situation. My visiting experience in the [very large] church then became a search for my friends that just happened to be inside some wonderful Renaissance architecture.
I ran into Bree and Gaby eventually and we sat for a while by the arches, looking out onto the plains below. To be honest we were really tired and I certainly wasn't relishing Perugia as much as I might have done.
We started to walk back into the town and ran into Lynette coming out of a shop selling foccaccia. Good idea! I thought and did likewise so that I didn't have to brave my disgusting sandwich. I was also in desperate need of a drink. It turns out Lynette had felt really unwell in the church, had to leave, and gone straight away to get something to eat and drink so that she didn't pass out (or worse). We thought that we'd probably had out fill of sightseeing in Assisi and started to wind our way back via some shops for a spot of retail therapy.
We had to be on the bus reasonably early so that we could get over to Assisi for about midday. Midday - yes, that's when everything's very cold, right? Readers, I was melting. I had a tomato and mozzarella sandwich in my bag - the tomato turned the bread to mush, and the mozzarella melted just like its owner.
We were given a few minutes to ourselves in the piazza where the 'self-starting stairway' had 'self-stopped'. We took some pictures, drank a lot of water, huddled in the shade, tried not to pass out... You know the kind of thing.
After that we embarked on our tour. It was like Camerino in that someone would take us around, tell us some interesting things about the place in which we found ourselves, we would take some pictures, and then leave as more well-rounded individuals.
What I really liked about all this was that we always had our own time. We'd get the chat first off, and then we'd get some time to explore and find out for ourselves what the theory looked like in practice.
My favourite bit, however, was still going to be taking the pictures. I had bought my camera especially for my year abroad I was going to make sure I used it at EVERY opportunity...
We reached St Francis' church and made it the last stop on our tour. It sits right on the far side of the town as you look at it and it really is a sight to behold. What I didn't realise is that though you can take wonderful pictures looking away from the church, you can't take that picture (the one where you see the church and all the arches clinging onto the hillside) from the church itself - you have to do it as you come into the city. The church itself was very dark and a bit eerie. By now you should know I'm not a big fan of Catholic churches. This one was supposed to have a very famous fresco in - by Giotto, if I'm not mistaken - but strangely our tour guide hadn't let slip that information.
I ran into Bree and Gaby eventually and we sat for a while by the arches, looking out onto the plains below. To be honest we were really tired and I certainly wasn't relishing Perugia as much as I might have done.
We started to walk back into the town and ran into Lynette coming out of a shop selling foccaccia. Good idea! I thought and did likewise so that I didn't have to brave my disgusting sandwich. I was also in desperate need of a drink. It turns out Lynette had felt really unwell in the church, had to leave, and gone straight away to get something to eat and drink so that she didn't pass out (or worse). We thought that we'd probably had out fill of sightseeing in Assisi and started to wind our way back via some shops for a spot of retail therapy.
Chiesa di San Francesco, Assisi
Next stop Perugia!
Monday, 20 February 2012
Friday Night at the Opera
The venue for this opera-fun was Macerata, a town not far from Ancona on the coast. We were told by the course tutors that we must wear dresses or skirts. Hold the phone. We must do it.
This was fine for me - I'd brought some dresses. Admittedly I didn't have many, but I had enough to be going on with and one of them I hoped would be opera-fit. Bree, however, had a little problem. She only had jeans. I don't know how she didn't just melt, but she'd only brought jeans with her and this was not a dress or a skirt. No, this was a problem. Cue feverish borrowing and trying on and mismatched outfits and more borrowing and trying on.
I wasn't sitting with the desperate gang. I wasn't even sitting with anyone else on the language course. Ok so I was near everyone, I just happened to draw the particular straw which meant I wasn't near Bree and her programme, or Lynette and her banter.
We were watching Madama Butterfly and I confess that the best bit was the interval with the ballet dancers, but like I've said to anyone who's asked since, I'm glad I went, I just wouldn't go again. We got back late that night and hit the sheets so that we could get up early for another trip the following day - Assisi and Perugia.
Sunday, 19 February 2012
Culture Vultures (Part I)
I paid a fair whack to go on the language course, but then again I got a room in a flat, four hours of class, five days a week, numerous outings, and four special cultural classes. We'd be warned, sorry told about these during our introductory meeting. They would each cover a different part of Italian culture: opera, the Romans, the Renaissance and one I have conveniently forgotten.
It was this (together with the guided tours around beautiful towns and cities) that enabled the school to advertise the course as language and culture. Gaby and I decided we would go; Bree and Lynette agreed because, after all, we were paying for it - there'd be no sense in not doing.
The first of these was set to coincide with our trip to the opera on Friday night. We had the opportunity to see Madama Butterfly by Puccini in Macerata, a beautiful open-air theatre. This was at an extra cost (naturally), but one that was worth it - in our view at least.
So I went to this class to hear all about Puccini. It wasn't that interesting as I wasn't passionate about opera. From a musical perspective it was informative and Puccini was really quite a clever bloke. I made some notes, but then decided to just listen and enjoy it - it wasn't as if I was going to get tested on it.
The ironic thing was that I never knew how useful that information would prove to be, but you'll hear all about that in due course...
So that evening, following on from the success of the night before, Bree invited us back for another movie. This was not Puccini or opera. We were treated to one of the films from the Saw franchise. From what I'd heard of the films (and we were launching in at number two) it was a lot of people getting injured in lots of different ways. Boke.
I don't know whether I didn't want to offend my new friends or whether there was no alternative, but I acquiesced and we started to get to grips with one of the most gruesome films I'd ever seen. You know it wasn't that bad. There was much more of a plot that I thought there would be. I would even go as far as to say it was clever.
I went home that night (I managed to get home safely without being kidnapped by someone seeking to exact moral vengeance on not-so-innocent members of the public) and dreamt of a mixture of refined Puccini and refined ways to kill people involving complex contraptions. Zzzzzzz...
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