Amelia/Terni

Yesterday, I had a gig in Amelia, a small town in Italy's Umbria region. A three and a half hour train ride away from Florence, I am grateful to NYU for hooking this gig up, as I'm sure my life would have passed without me seeing this beautiful and seriously impressionable town had they not.

Our train took us to a small town called Narni. A modern town, we sat around drinking coffee and eating figs (something the town is known for) at a local cafe until about 3:45PM, when we were told that we needed to hurry; Amelia is an ancient, walled-in city. The walls close at 4PM, not letting anyone in after that time.

The venue was some sort of ancient palace or concert venue. A huge old building, it's ceilings were covered with beautiful paintings, it's walls were filled with mosaics (mostly maps of the town), and the windows on all sides showed gorgeous views of the entire region.

The gig was a reception for a book that had just been written about the town, and the audience was a hip crowd of artsy, in-the-know people from in and around Amelia.

I was warming up on the piano as the crowd began walking in. Just as I was walking backstage, my teacher told me to keep playing; that the crowd was enjoying the music. It was a joy playing for this crowd of 60 or so. The people were actually listening to the music; it was sort of like I was giving a 20 or 25 minute piano recital. I played mostly ballads: "The Nearness of You," "I Cover The Waterfront," "As Time Goes By," "Polka Dots and Moonbeams," and of course, "Georgia On My Mind."

Check out the view from the piano:

After the gig, we hung around with the locals at a food and wine tasting that took place at the venue. Everyone was dressed up, laughing and talking. An important member of the community (I'm guessing) gave a toast to everyone, and welcomed us. As everyone raised their glasses in joy, I had one of those moments, realizing that for some reason I would remember this night and place forever. Knowing that I will probably never visit this ancient town again, I will always wonder what is now there, if it remains as still as it felt then.

Afterward, we drove to a town called Terni, to see a concert and to hold a jam session at a local cafe.

Terni is a modern city, known as one of Italy's industrial capitols; however, it didn't feel that way as we walked around it. Standing on and looking down the main drag, it looked just like Madison, Wisconsin's State Street; yet, the palm trees that surrounded all the houses reminded me of Charleston, as did the houses, which were very similar-looking to the mansions I've seen there. The streets were some sort of modern cobblestone and, on this peaceful night, all we could hear were the faint tap taps of people walking.

The concert was a different story. We went to hear the American jazz pianist, Joey Calderazzo, and his trio. I've heard his name before, but never checked him out, and, after last night's experience, I've realized that there's good reason for this.

The show had already started once we walked in.

The pianist was playing a solo piece when, all of the sudden, he stopped, turned around to the sound guy and started yelling at him: "The piano does not need to be anywhere near this loud! Gosh!" He started playing again, and the rest of the trio joined in. In the middle of the song, a camera flashed. Calderazzo turned to the audience and yelled, in response, "You've got to be kidding me. Jesus Christ."

Once the song ended, Calderazzo approached the microphone. He began his rant. "Are you kidding me?...I'm not Keith Jarrett, but come on!" He then paused and said, embarrassing every American in the crowd, "We have a word in America called, "use discretion!"
An audience member yelled back: "But you are in Italy!"
To which Calderazzo actually responded, "Well fuck that. Then I won't come back to Italy."
After a long awkward pause, Calderazzo yelled out: "Who said that?"
A man raised his hand and yelled, "I did."
Calderazzo said to him, "Come up here! You want to have this conversation? Seriously, come up here!"
The man said, "We can have this talk after the show, but you are here to play and we are here to listen to you."
Calderazzo, noting defeat, said fine, went back to the piano and continued what was certainly the most awkward and uncomfortable show I've ever attended.

After the show, we went to a cafe and held a jam session. A lot of fun; it didn't end until about 3AM. At 3 we all decided that instead of paying the 20 euro for the hotel, we should just take the first train back to Florence. We got to the train station at 3:30, bought our tickets, and, after an unsuccessful hunt for food, boarded the train a little early, fell asleep, and woke up in Florence, at 8:30 this morning.

Soccer, Football, Soccer, Football, etc.

I went to my first soccer game the other night. Well, I went to my first European soccer game the other night. Lots of confusion at the game when asked if I'd been to a soccer game before. I wasn't sure whether or not to answer yes or no; do my little brother's YMCA games count?

Lots more confusion over the super-cool, apparently Italian (?), (definitely) American girls who, upon discovering that this game was approaching, would text message me asking if I wanted to go to the "football" game.

Florence was playing Milan, the best team in Italy, with certainly Italy's most internationally-acclaimed players, including Ronaldino and David Beckham. Anyway, with Milan being Florence's biggest rival, every year this is Florence's biggest game; the crazy and sometimes hostile fans are especially crazy and sometimes even super duper hostile at this game. Last year, the police had to tear gas many fans who stormed the field and started fighting.

The stadium was huge, and packed. So crowded in fact, that the only plausible explanation for this is that everyone who lives in Florence must have been at that game. The stadium made use of the "high-school football" lighting, which gave out that "high-school football" game vibe, which was cool.



The fans were nuts. Screaming and yelling and even whistling cheers for the entire duration of the game, storming the field when Florence scored (only one point was scored tho, I should note.), I've never heard such a consistently loud group of people anywhere, ever. Well...that is, until Florence lost and all the Florence fans turned against their team, booing them, flicking them off, and screaming curse words at the players as they walked off the field.

The players responded, yelling back, shrugging their shoulders.

The game is fun to watch and it moves fast. The next day, when we told one of our American born professors that we went to the game the night before, he told us that, when compared with European soccer, baseball is almost an intellectual activity. He said that he has tried many times to show baseball to his Italian friends, but that they all become extremely bored very quickly. He said that besides being a very slow game, baseball is also very confusing to those who don't know the game, and almost impossible to explain. He said that his friends are often confused about bat throwing etiquette; in other words, they often ask him what the rules are for throwing down the bat after hitting the ball, insisting that, in order to be a legal bat throw, it must be thrown down in only one certain way.

Paris

The Paris trip was wonderful. Absolutely s'wonderful, to quote a favorite song.

As soon as I found my way out of the airport and on to the train, I felt myself waking up from something. Maybe I was waking up from the "Jewish geography" talks that have plagued and taken over many of my conversations since coming to Florence. I found myself eavesdropping like crazy, on interesting conversations, on interesting people - in English! Often, in Florence, I feel like I am surrounded by really interesting conversations; in Italian tho, I can't understand!

As soon as I found my way out of the metro station - this took about 10 minutes; I couldn't find any exits - I was really in awe of what was in front of me. It was loud, cars were speeding by, people were packing the streets; in front on me there were lights and tall buildings and cafes (with people inside and out) and, in the distance, I saw a bridge. I was shocked at how old the buildings looked (not really sure why this surprised me), how grand and palace-like they were, how wide the sidewalks were.

I walked to the bridge, to the river, the Seine. It was a beautiful night. I finally saw the Eiffel Tower, which was blinking on and off. I walked up and down the sidewalk next to the bridge, passing what I think was Notre Dame and plenty of other beautiful buildings, cafes, and people. People crowding coffee shops, and cafes, people crowding and waiting to enter theatres. It was loud and noisy and crazy and wild. I loved it.

I went to Paris to visit my great friend Lindsay, and we had quite the weekend. Each day was a big day and I really got a good look at Paris.

A highlight was, after a Schwarma stuffing at a phenomenal Falafel restaurant -that looked like it was set in an 80's porno film (...not that I've seen any, of course...) in Paris' Jewish section, we visted Pere-Lachaise Cemetary. Easily one of the coolest places I've ever been, the eery and creepy vibe of the cemetary (the deteriorating graves, the cobblestone streets, the skinny trees with no leaves) combined with the dark and gloomy weather of the day combined to create, somehow, an extremely charming vibe and fresh feel.



We did the musicians tour that day, wandering around the cemetary to visit, among others, Chopin, Edith Piaf, and Jim Morrison.

Along the way, we stopped often to look at intriguing grave stones. One particularly interesting standout was a grave whose words were only, "Enfin suel," which means, "Finally alone."



There was something really charming about the cemetery, and, on a return to Paris, it is definitely a place I'd want to revisit and spend more time.

Next we to an exhibit at the Grand Palais. It was exhibition of work by an apparently very well-known artist of today, Christian Boltanski. An exhibit that Lindsay has since labeled "the laundry that Joe left in Paris," it was a wide spread of clothes throughout the floor of the Palais. In the center of the Palais stood a huge pile of clothes; each minute or so, a crane would come down, pick up a pile of clothes, bring them up in the air, and then drop them back on top of the pile.



Although I really didn't understand the exhibit, it was a very interesting thing to see, and while it didn't connect with me emotionally as it obviously had with many others, there was something about it that made it hard to look away. And while I also couldn't tell you what I enjoyed about it or why I liked it, I did, and am very glad I went.

We went to the Louvre next. We only had an hour or so to have our go at it, but we made the most of it, wandering through the underground caves, Napoleon's apartment, and even made our way to the famous Mona Lisa (although I must admit I enjoyed the painting directly across from it more).

While I didn't find the Holy Grail per se, I did find pancakes at the Louvre's Starbucks, which were delicious.

On Saturday we went to Versailles. A really jaw dropping place, I don't even know how I could possibly go about describing it; I've got a pretty good vocabulary, but you wouldn't be interested in my description or my talkin' 'bout. A place I've always wanted to visit - I've google-imaged it quite a few times over the years - I'm glad I got to see it in person.



A highlight for me was, walking to dinner that night, we passed a coffee shop. Everyone inside was dancing. They weren't grinding or hip-hoppin'; they were dipping one another, spinning eachother, dancing and laughing to the romantic, accordion-laced french music playing inside the cafe. The whole scene was very charming and exciting to me. I felt like, in some way, after seeing that, I could say I saw Paris.

Venice & Stuff

Ten full days.

I know you've all been anxious for a new post. That is all 2, maybe 3, of you.

It's been a good ten days.

To summarize briefly, I ate an additional 500 strands of spaghetti, 25 slices of pizza, a swimming pool's worth of egg drop soup (known as corn and chicken soup here), and also 10 or so Big Macs. Oh yeah. I also went to Venice and Paris.

Those of you reading are probably most interested in where I got a hold of McDonalds over here, so I'll tell you. At McDonald's.

Late night food is seriously lacking in Italy - besides a few Kabob stands, McDonald's reigns king of the late night food. Therefore, I've had a lot of Big Macs recently. Also, just so you know, McDonald's over here just came out with a new sandwich called the "McItaly." Interesting, but not quite as creative as Israel's "McShwarma."

I went to Venice for Carnivale, which is basically the European version of Mardi Gras Well...Mardi Gras is actually the American version of Carnivale.

The city was beautiful. We took a water taxi from our bus to San Marco Square, where the big festivities were taking place. On the water, making our way into this water-filled city, I felt like I was in some exotic version of Neverland. People all over were riding in boats dressed as pirates...and George Washington (or someone else from the 1700's) and monsters and teletubbies. However, it was really the buildings that most impressed me. Well, the buildings and the light blue water. It all reminded me in a way of the Caribbean; I feel like I got some sort of an idea of how all those Caribbean islands were originally influenced in terms of architecture and design.

A highlight for me was, at lunch, after I finished eating and had landed much of my lunch on my shirt (as usual), some British guy came up to me and, with British accent and all, said something like, "Hey mate. It looks like you've got some sauce on your shirt."

Venice was a great city and I had a good time, but coming on such a crowded day, I only got to see hints of what were certainly, on much more normal days, very romantic and mysterious alleys and bridges, streets and squares.

Will write about Paris tomorrow. Stay tuned.

Quote of the Week

Waitess, to me, after I replied "No," to her "Can I get you anything else?", and my roommate Charlie said, "I think we cleaned out your kitchen.":

"Yeah," she said. "You ordered the pancakes and scrambled eggs and I thought, 'That's fine', but then you said, 'With a hamburger and some french fries,' and I was like,'Wow, Okay!'"

Switzerland

I took my first trip last weekend: Interlaken, Switzerland. I feel like many trip descriptions begin with long introductory paragraphs where I should tell you that I took a bus to get there, that the bus left at 7PM and arrived in Interlaken around 4AM, that I spent thirty euro on snacks at the pit stop, that the bathroom on the bus didn't have working lights or a working lock (so using the bathroom required some intense concentration: cell phone light in one hand, holding the door shut with the other and full body and mind concentration for aiming), that we watched like six movies on the bus, that some stupid kids kept blocking the TV screen. But don't worry, I don't think you want a long introductory paragraph, so I'll spare you and I'll tell you the good stuff.

Switzerland is beautiful. It was really cool when we first arrived in the country because it was evident that the landscape had immediately changed from flatter lands to valleys and hills and mountains and houses on hills surrounding bodies of water. However, what was really cool is that we really couldn't see any of this change. We could only see the lights from the houses, and we could only tell from the shapes of the lights and the occasional reflections from water what we were looking at, what we couldn't see but could imagine, what we would be able to see if it was lighter out.



We checked out the ski town Grindlewald, the first day. Walked around, ate a lot of chocolate, you know. Had a hamburger. Also, a jelly filled donut. Also went in to a place called "Espresso Bar," ordered a coffee and was laughed at, told that it was an alcohol bar, no coffee. Yes, Espresso Bar, I should've known.

The second day was really great. We took a train and then a bus to get to this town called Istlewald. It was probably the most beautiful place I've ever been to. I just spent like five minutes trying to describe it -typing out sentences and erasing them, trying to think of adjectives and stuff-, but realized my words really couldn't do the town any justice, so I figured out how to upload pictures, so check that out. It really was an amazing place. We spent most of our time there on the dock. Great weather day, so just enjoyed the breeze and the scenery. It was funny because we barely saw anyone there. It seemed like we were in some sort of deserted town; as great and relaxing as it was, I remember thinking that I wouldn't be surprised to find out, after getting home and doing some research, that some sort of plague had recently cleaned out the city. The lights were even off in the town's hotel. My roommate did a Wikipedia search when we got home and found out that the town has a population of 300 (and that something like .7% speak french...what is that? like three people?). No plague, by the way.



That night we went night sledding. The sledding itself was very fun, but the whole experience was something totally new and truly incredible to me. We boarded a gondola once it got dark. The gondola took us to the top of this mountain. Once on top of the mountain we had to hike about ten minutes to get to where we could begin sledding. The hike was really amazing. What was so amazing exactly was that we could barely see anything. Looking down all I could see were the clouds, about 200 or so feet below me. Looking in front of me all I could see were the blinking dots on the backs the other sledders (so we could find our way on the sled track), and looking up all I could see were only about a million stars. It also felt very strange because, with the clouds being way below us, it felt like we were on top of the alps. However, if we looked up only a little bit we could see the lights of houses that were even higher than us. However, we couldn't see the mountains on which they stood: just the lights. It was really a crazy feeling. I felt like I was in space or something. Or, more seriously: on the Rainbow Road level of Mario Kart.

Sledding was very fun. Probably very dangerous, but it didn't really feel that way. There'd be portions of the track where I could see to my side, and I'd see that I was about three feet away from the edge of the mountain. No barrier or anything, it's a wonder there were no injuries or deaths or anything.

The bus-ride home was beautiful. We probably saw every sort of weather you could imagine. In fact, we were in an intense fog for a good two hours; we couldn't see anything more than five feet in every direction.

Our bus was pulled over at the Swiss/Italy border. The cops (I guess Swiss) wanted to do a drug test/search of our bus. I thought it was going to stink having to get everyone to pee in cups and wait a few hours for the results... but the Swiss are much smarter than I. The drug test consisted of everyone walking one by one in front a drug dog. I guess, if anyone had drugs, the dog would attack. What an efficient way to drug test!

Trip one was a great success. I'll probably remember more blogworthy material in a couple days and post more, so if you want to reread this post every day for the next week or so, you'll be set and won't miss out on a single detail for sure.

First Few Weeks

It's been a great first few weeks.

Besides eating more than 100,000 strands of spaghetti and over 25 full pizza pies (I've had two today alone), I've really enjoyed getting to know the whole lifestyle over here.

I've made a few observations over that are worth sharing. At least I think so. Hey, it's my blog.

1) It's about quality, not quantity. I'm talking about coffee. Coffee here is small. It tastes great, but it's small.

You know, in America when you go for a coffee date, it's a big step - well, maybe not a big step, but it's certainly an hour or two of talking. This, I think, is partially due to the size of the cups: No matter how boring the date is in America, the size of the cup will keep you there trying to think of things to talk about for at least an hour.

Here, I wonder if a coffee date is an insult. Well, maybe not an insult, but certainly something to the negative (Maybe a coffee date here is like asking to go to lunch in America. Good, but it's not like going to dinner.) The coffee comes in very small cups. I can't imagine a coffee date lasting longer than ten minutes, unless there is a second cup. I've spent a long time thinking about this, and I wonder: Do you take your time with that first cup, sipping only occasionally - knowing that that one cup will have to last for the duration of the date? Or do you get a second cup somewhere along the way? And if you get a second cup, is that second cup assumed from the output of the date (You certainly wouldn't want to assume a second cup when a second cup shouldn't be assumed.)? Or is the second cup only something that you get if the date is going pretty super duper well?

2) It's not as easy to talk to people as you told me it would be.

The other day a beautiful restaurant hostess stopped me on the street. "Ciao," she said, smiling.
"Ciao," I said, smiling too.
"Come va?" She asked. (How are you?)
I'm no Italian pro, and it took me a few seconds to realize that "Bene" was the right thing to say. She noticed and giggled a bit. "No italiano?" she asked. "No italiano," I said. "English?" I asked. "No English," she answered. We laughed, and we both had to force pre-emptive goodbye ciaos because, after all, how much more could we say to one another? Natural charm will only go so far.

One night a few weeks ago, I sat in for a few tunes at a local jazz club. A man came up to me afterwards speaking very fast, patting my back, and shaking my hand. He was very excited. I had no idea what he was saying. I said, "Sorry. No italiano." He said, "Sorry. No Ingles." We laughed, and in reference to what he had previously said, he, after a good five seconds of thought, said "Complimento!" Still, I wish I knew what he had said.

3) I've never seen such thin leather jackets.

4) It's about quality and also quantity. I'm talking about dinners. Never rushed. Gotta ask for the check. Long quantities, in terms of time. And great quality, in terms of food. I do like the slower pace. Can walk at my normal speed (aka. Atlanta Chastain Park speed, not New York Starbucks speed.)

Actually learned a few interesting things in school too. Here's three:
1) The Italian Prime-Minister, Silvio Berlusconi, is a pretty crazy guy. Apparently, on a recent trip to Israel, he told the head of some Catholic union or something the following joke: "Just after Jesus was born Joseph looked over and saw Mary sitting with a frown. 'What's wrong?', he asked. 'I was hoping for a girl,' she replied.

2) Hitler blew up all the bridges on the Arno River during WWII, except for the Ponte Vecchio. One circulating story about why he didn't is that the Italian Resistance, stationed on the other side of the bridge, snuck through the tunnels on top of the bridge, cut the chord to the grenade, and when the German troops pulled the plug, nothing happened.

3) There is a plaque in the Santa Maria Novella train station that recognizes the exact spot -track five- where the Florentine Jews last saw their city during WWII, after the city's Jews were rounded up and forced to board the train that brought them to the death camps.

Joe's Abroad Blog

A blog for abroad. An abroad blog. An a-blog. How about a really cool abroad blog? A bomb abroad blog. Or, in conversation: "That a-blog is the bomb."

As much fun as the blog naming is, I've got to take all of you people in to account, those who are actually reading this, laughing at how clever my tongue twister above was/didn't think I'd actually take your advice and start a blog, and quickly realizing that I have no idea how this abroad blog business works.

I've seen a few abroad blogs. Some are really cool, and some are totally smelly. So, what am I supposed to do? How do I write an abroad blog that is actually interesting and that you will enjoy reading?

A lot of people told me, pre-abroad, to write everything down and to share it with them. But let's be honest: do you really want to know everything I do every day? For example, "Today, I woke up. I forgot to buy cereal at the store last night, so I had to wait to eat breakfast until after I showered and grabbed a croissant from the store on the way to the bus stop." Probably not. Do you want to know all the names of the people I'm hanging out with. For example, "Today me and Jim saw Nancy and Kelly at the store. They were standing with John, which was so funny because John and Nancy don't even get along!" Probably not.

While this whole experience is amazing and certainly life changing, not every conversation is earth-shattering and not every trip to the grocery store is a milestone - like some abroad blogs will make you believe. I'll try to make this some sort of interesting read for you.

One last note: I want to dedicate this blog to everyone who gave me the following great advice before I left the US: "Joe, remember...This is the time." Riight.