long overdue

Ok, sorry for the lack of posts this month you guys. I seem to have found less and less time to be able to take away to do more writing. Much has gone on this month, but mostly I'm really just trying to concentrate on my final project, which is due in a very short 2 weeks. Unfortunatly that means that I have also had to seclude myself from the outside world and often despair at the end of each day when I find that I have not left the Cenci to go outside all day, save for the occational trip to get a few more groceries at the store down the street.

On a sadder note, I have just now learned of all the chaos going on in Mumbai. When I first heard of it, my immediate reaction was "Oh Dio, e' purtroppo! Cos'e brutto!" (which roughly translates to 'Oh God, how unfortunate! that is horrible!') And I dont really know how else to react to such a thing, Mumbai feels like it's a world away from here, and yet I have well learned by now that this really is a small world, and just because I can't see it doesn't mean it should be any less important to me. Please pray for all the victims of this violence, and pray that we may one day have peace on the earth.

Today being Thanksgiving, there is much preparation going on in the Cenci for our dinner tonight. We are having another pot luck for Thanksgiving, just bigger, more formal and planned out than our previous pot lucks. Each person is responsible for making a specific dish for the group. RISD has provided us with the wine and the turkeys, which are being cooked right now. We are trying to make it as traditional of a Thanksgiving meal as possible given what ingredients we have available here, but it should be good.

Lord God I praise you and thank you for all the blessings of this life. You have provided me with everything I need, every day. May I remember to give thanks to you always and everywhere, not just on Thanksgiving day but every day. Thank you for my family and friends who love me and support me no matter where I am. Thank you for the oppourtunity to come to Rome, where I have grown in body, spirit, and knowledge of this wonderful world you have given us. Fill us all with your great love, lift us up by your Holy Spirit and protect us from harm and the trials of temptation, now and forever,
Amen.
As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be, world without end. Amen.

Happy Thanksgiving! I love you!

Gli Storme

There, all of a sudden, a new presence in Rome that cannot be overlooked. Small black birds, which I have learned are Starlings, have taken over the skies and are now demanding every space on every tree, power line and rooftop. I do not know where they came from. Perhaps they are just passing through on their way south for the winter, but as the evening approaches it is hard not to notice their swarms filling up the sky. Even through my small viewable piece of sky I can tell that there are thousands of them at any given time.

The Romans refer to them as "Gli Storme," which is a term only used to describe this particular occurrence. The really special thing about this flocks of Starlings is in the unusual way they fly. I guess you could call it "in-formation" because they all fly together as a group, but there really is no particular formation in which they fly. Rather, the mass is constantly moving and changing shape as if it were one body of liquid, swimming through the air and changing simultaneously along with the breeze.

Swirling up and around the warm currents of air, each group looks as if it is performing its own ballet. They come from all directions and merge into each other, as different colors may swirl together in a bowl, never fully mixing but nevertheless affected by the other.

I become entranced watching this intricate dance pay out in the skies above, and it becomes hard to tear myself away and focus on more pressing matters.

When the sun has finally set, it may be experienced by anyone venturing outside, especially along the Tiber, a loud ruckus coming from the treetops up above. The almost deafening high-pitched twittering of the hundreds of birds resting among each tree should be enough to make anyone wary of walking underneath the wide canopies, but if they cannot be avoided for your destination of choice, it would be wise to have an umbrella handy.    

The Grass Grows Through It

The cobblestone streets of Rome are filthy. Dirt, trash, cigarette butts, dog poo, and dead birds are seen on a daily basis. Broken stones stick up everywhere and you have to constantly be watching where you're walking so you don't trip and fall, or step on something you'll regret.

 

And yet, through all these atrocities, the rain comes down, washing away the surface and seeping down into the cracks. Then, in a short amount of time, up through dirt springs new green grass, giving the streets a fresh look and new life. You see, without all the dirt and filth, the grass would never be able to grow, and while the streets would look a lot better if they were perfectly ordered and clean, they would remain lifeless.

I like to think of this occurrence as a sort of metaphor for what God's good grace does to us in our own lives.  So long as we live in this world we are all subject to temptation and sin. Try as we might, we alone cannot rid ourselves of the dirt that covers our hearts and souls, and it accumulates. So, we come to stand before God covered in dirt and filth and beg to be washed clean. By His mercy He rains His grace upon us, washing away our sins and seeping down into our souls, where, because we have humbled ourselves before Him, a new life springs forth from the dirt, filling up every crack in our being with fresh green grass. The dirt of our temptations roots us down and makes us permanent, for though they may be troublesome and grievous, in them a person is humbled, purified, and instructed, and through the intervention of God the grass will grow through it. 

Be wary my friends! Take care not to trample the new grass which has taken so much to grow. Protect it and do not take it for granted by continuing in your old ways. It is still frail and must be taken care of to get stronger. Christ can be your constant gardener, and you need only to invite Him in.

Thank You Lord for your constant streams of love and mercy. We are but the dirt under Your feet and You, in Your infinite kindness bow down and raise us up, giving us a newness of life and restoring our souls. Lord I pray that when we stray from Your path, like the Good Shepherd You may find us once again and strengthen our convictions in You, that we may follow You now, until the end of time.  

Amen

The Feast of Saint Francis

This past Saturday was the feast of St. Francis. To commemorate the occasion of my favorite saint I decided it would be a good time to make my pilgrimage to Assisi and see all the spots that I have come to know about through books and such. Being the lone traveler that I am, I went by myself. But have no fear, I was I good hands. For the 2 days and nights that I was there, I stayed with a very hospitable host family who has taken in RISD students in previous years when the students would do a week of organized home-stay time as part of the EHP program. The hard part for me though was that my host parents didn't speak any English, so I could only speak in Italian for the entire weekend, which in retrospect is a really good thing because it forced me to use what I have learned in Italian class thus far, and quickly learn what I didn't know yet.

On the feast day, I went into Assisi around 11:30am and found that it was quite crowded. I could barely get into the Church of San Francesco because there were so many people streaming in and out! So instead I decided it would be a better plan to walk around outside and do some exploring around the area before confining myself within any particular space. Though I had a map with me, I didn't bother taking it out because even if I had known where I was, I wouldn't have known where I was going, except for as far away from the crowds as possible.

On the rural roads climbing up Mount Subasio, I saw a pen with a family of donkeys in it, including a tiny little baby donkey.
I named her "burrito" which in Italian means little butter. hahaha

Shortly thereafter the wind picked up and it started raining/hailing, luckily I had brought my umbrella, as small as it is, but I was not prepared for the cold that followed the hail, so I didn't stay as long as I had planned. When I got back to the house, I found that my host mother had baked dozens and dozens of cookies while I was away! For dinner (my first truly Italian meal!), she made pasta shells in tomato sauce, and then we got slices of tomatoes, prociutto cotto (cured ham), fresh mozzerella, and bread, and then for the last course we just had some lettuce with vinaigrette, which is meant as a sort of palette cleanser.

After getting my bearings around the town, I went back the next day with a bit more of a plan, as well as my sketchbook and drawing materials, which I had left behind the day before. After attending Sunday church with my host parents, I went back up to Assisi and went to the church of Santa Chiara (St. Clair).

Later, on a trek to the church of San Damiano, I passed by a beautiful olive grove and couldn't resist sitting down in the middle of it for a while to sketch the landscape.

San Damiano, which is where the Franciscan Sisters lived almost from the very beginning of the order, was such a quint little place. Situated down the hill from Assisi, the Sisters who lived here were in peaceful solitude, and the area has remained as such. The only other being I saw with a house close by the convent was a goat, who lived in a rather small house under a tree.

By the time I got back to the house at the end of the day, I was well worn out. I was again treated to a wonderful dinner of stuffed tortellini in a chicken soup broth, followed by baked tomatoes with bread crumbs and beef, followed by a plate of green grapes. Even though I only stayed with this family for 2 days, I still feel it was a very insightful experience into the lives and culture of a typical Italian family, which ended up reinforcing some known stereotypes, as well as disproving others.

I'm so glad that I took this journey and I look forward to coming back again sometime and seeing more of Assisi. I am also glad that I discovered this method of staying with a host family, and I now want to find other families in other places that I want to go.

Peace and Good,

~Rachael

Cinque Terre

Le Cinque Terre is a chain of five remarkably picturesque towns on the Italian Riviera, covering about 7 miles of beautiful coastal territory which is punctuated by cliff top olive groves, grape vineyards, striking geology and azure water below soaring cliffs.

In the morning we took a train to Riomaggiore, the southernmost town in the chain, and arrived at around 10:30 in the midst of pouring rain. Due to the rain throughout the day and the previous night making the trails muddy and dangerous, our main hiking journey that we had planned was cancelled and we were left free to do whatever we wanted. Our lodging for the night was in the form of apartments that were interspersed throughout the town. My favorite of these apartments was tucked away in the uppermost part of the town and to get there, one had to climb an old stone trail, with the hills rising immediately on either side, which reminded me greatly of the Hobbit land in Middle Earth of the Lord of the Rings books. Even the quaint little stone apartment house, with the large round doorknob placed in the center of the door, and just enough room for 4 people to sleep, seemed as if it had just come right out of a children’s picture book. People in my group were planning on going down to the shore for a little swimming and possibly some cliff diving, but when I got outside and saw these stone steps which looked as if they hadn’t been travelled in 50 years, I just couldn’t say no to climbing them and seeing where they led to. Since I am never one for letting a little rain and cold stop me, I ventured out with no idea as to where I would go or what I would do once I got there, but the beauty of the trail ahead was calling to me and telling me to move forward.

Along the trail, every path that I saw deviating from it was another opportunity for exploration. Traveling like this I often found myself at the top of a hill overlooking a garden, in the middle of a grape vineyard, or stuck in the thorns of raspberry bushes. By sight or sound there were no other people. It was just me and the earth, getting to know each other. Slowly but surely I was making my way to the top of the mountain

Higher and higher I went until I realized I could see the ocean and the small town of Riomaggiore leading up to it. Towards the top of the mountain the vineyards gave way to forests, with traces of ancient walls for some long-forgotten purpose scattered throughout. I just
keep on walking, feeling as if I am searching for something without knowing what it is yet.

Taking the opportunity of the silence and state of peace with the earth and sky that I was in, I start singing hymns and songs of praise to God for the supreme beauty of this world that He created. I pray for the land and the people here. For the energy to carry on and for the wisdom to know when it's time to stop. For guidance in God's chosen path for me, and the strength to follow it.

No matter how grand people can build a church. No matter how much gold and silver and jewels and art can be put there. No matter how well designed a cathedral can be. No man-made thing on Earth could truly "house" God. I believe that if God were to choose any place on earth to reside it would be in the pure and natural wilds. Nothing a human could ever make could be as beautiful and complex and perfect as what God Himself has created. It is for this reason that I seek the Earth in solitude, for it is here where I can feel God's presence most strongly, and know that He is here with me. Here away from the eyes of others I can be my true self, an imperfect child of God. I within Him and Him within me.

As I walk along the top of the mountain, more and more of the world below starts coming into view. Eventually I come upon what appears to be the end of the trail, and the start of a couple more trails around a small field. From the side of the cliff here I can see the entire coastline and the vast ocean stretching out miles and miles before me.

I feel as if I have reached the ends of the Earth. Way far out in the distance I can see a barge out in the ocean, alone in a vast, never-ending sea of beauty. My spirit is transported to the place where the ocean becomes the sky and I know that although I too am out here by myself, I am not alone. I have carried with me the spirit of all adventurers who have come here before me, as well as those who have yet to come. The only thing that could have made my joy more complete is if I could have shared that moment with someone I love, but I knew that they were right there with me, thinking of me as I was thinking of them, in the place where the ocean becomes the sky.

Northern Tour- Day 5

After a restful night's sleep in my own private hotel room, I get up early in the morning for the 45 minute bus ride into Genova for the day. There are obvious signs of the rain showers that were passing through all night long, and now the storm clouds threaten to rain upon the morning as well.

Driving along the coastal cliff sides, I can see from the bus window these dark clouds over the ocean. The clouds themselves are displaying some beautiful contrasts in color and shade, and a temporary break in the clouds allows the sun to suddenly burst through in magnificent rays of light, highlighting a spot of the ocean below as if God himself is touching the water and making it holy. This rare scene along the coast was so beautiful that it had everyone on the bus completely entranced. One girls behind me, upon waking up from a short nap could barely believe what she saw before her, just laughing and saying that it was "too ridiculously beautiful to be real."

view of Genova from the top of this weird "elevator" thing we went on.

Genova, which one of the major port cities in Italy, is also home to the largest aquarium in Europe and, looking for a different experience today, we all decide that this is one opportunity that we cannot pass up. It was cool, and I really enjoyed watching the dolphins and penguins, but I think that I have definitely been to at least one or two bigger aquariums in the US. Plus, I accidently mis-read my watch and got out of there a good 45 minutes earlier than I had to, and could not get back in because we were not issued actual tickets. So instead I went to this glass shirical greenhouse called the "Biosphere" and sketched for a while. Luckily, since I was the only one in there for a while, I got to go in for free and was able to do whatever I wanted. 

One of my favorite sights of the day was when we got a special tour of the Teatro Carlo Felice, which is Genova's theater and opera house. This is the most complex stage set up I have ever seen. The ceiling is 100ft high from the stage and the floor is 100ft below the the stage, which allows for immensely complex scenes to be raised and lowered throughout the performance, on 3 by 5ft panels that can move together as a whole or individually move up and down, or even pivot in any direction. I got to see workers building the set for the next Opera to be shown there and was amazed by the depth and precision they go through to make a stage set that will just be torn back down into scraps after a few performances.

After a full day of touring we head back on the bus to our hotel in Varazze.
Some rainy weather has once again left this place in a blanket of fog, rising and moving along the mountains as if some magical force were acting upon them.

Of course! I say to myself.

This is the place where clouds are born! Why didn't I realize this before? It seems so simple now, that a place which has captured the hearts and imaginations of artists and writers for centuries would also be a nursery of the sea and sky.

Back in Varazze I have a lot of preparing to do. This was actually the last day of the official tour and tomorrow we are all (minus Ezio, Tom and Susan Mills, and the bus) going to take a train from Genova to Cinque Terre for a weekend of mountain trails, cliff diving, swimming and hiking.

Northern Tour- Day 4

After spending the night in a nice hotel in Bologna, we eat breakfast in the hotel before setting out for the day. For the record, this hotel has the BEST hot chocolate I have ever had. When I asked for it, they brought me a small pitcher full (about 3 or 4 full servings worth) of a thick, rich and creamy hot chocolate that tasted like they had just melted a fine semi-sweet chocolate bar and whipped it together with some cream for just the perfect amount of richness, but enough of that.

Bologna is perhaps the most "Americanized" urban cities that I have seen in Italy thus far. This is largely due to the fact that it is, in large part, a college town. Bologna University, with a student population of around 30,000, is actually the oldest university in the western world.                             (above) The leaning tower of Bologna 

It was officially founded in the year 1088, which just astounds me when I think about how Columbus didn't even discover the Americas until a few hundred years later. But despite it's age, it really just feels like any other typical college town anywhere. During the tour we stop in to see the University's Museo di Anatomia Umana Normale, which is an anatomical museum of wax pieces made in the 18th and 19th centuries, a large part of which is dedicated to the study of baby delivery, which was the first of its kind and highly advanced for its time.

After a visit to the Giorgio Morandi museum, we head over to Le Corbusier's Pavillion de L'esprit Nouveau (the New Spirit), built for the Exposition des Art Decoratifs held in Paris in 1925, but torn down the following year. In Bologna they have built a faithful replica based on the original plans in 1977 for the use of study by architecture and design students. It is an exhibitional building: a standardized housing project designed according to Corbu's "purest" manifesto which shapes social habits and philosophy of living spaces rather than following previous social models. While I don't agree with Corbu's "ideal" living standards, and shudder to think of how horrible it would be if he had been able to carry out his plans for an "ideal" city (think of those massive standardized housing projects built in communist Russia), I still appreciate his design skills in being able to build a very inexpensive house made completely out of cement, but still with open spaces which are opened up to the outside world and have a lot of natural sunlight filtering through. My favorite part of the house is a very small outdoor pavilion that has a tree growing in the middle of it, which is poking through a large hole in the cement roof of the pavilion. The only thing I would have changed about this space is to have grown some grass in the ground instead of putting in the cement tiles it has now.

Once again we get back on the bus and head out on a 3 hour plus journey, crossing the Appennine chain again, and enter a small region called Liguria, situated in the narrow strip of land between the mountains and the Mediterranean Sea. Traveling along the "Riviera di Levante," a road that was rediscovered by English travelers, such as the poet P.B. Shelley, I find myself amongst a beautiful landscape, ever changing and never getting old, mountains and hills on my right, coast and sea to my left.

Finally we reach our destination, Varazze, a small, quite coastal town where we will be lodging for the next two nights. After dinner I head outside for a stroll in the cool sea air. Though it is only 9:30 by my watch, the sky is already pitch-black and I only see a couple of other people out and about. The beach is completely deserted, but the moon and the few buildings in town that still have their lights on give me just enough light to walk by, so I go and climb out along this boulder jetty jutting out into the ocean. Shrouded in the darkness, I stand there in quite solitude, absorbing everything around me and contemplating on all the things that had passed before my eyes in the last couple of days. I thank God especially for all the blessings of this life. For being with me everywhere I go, and I pray that He help me to grow in wisdom, understanding, humility, grace and above all, love. Love for friends and enemies alike, love for family and love for strangers on the street. It is love which connects us all and binds us together with a chain 10 times stronger than any act of hate could ever be. Through this love I can feel the presence of all my family and friends standing behind me, keeping me company in this cold, dark landscape in an unwavering wave of love and support. Looking out into the darkness at the vast ocean in front of me, I too am reaching out my hand to all my loved ones back home, sending out all my love and happiness across the seas to reach you, wherever you may be.

Northern Tour- Day 3

After another night in Siena, we departed early this morning for Firenze (Florence), about an hour and a half away by bus. Firenze is a bustling tourist city absolutely full to the brim with rich, elaborate Renaissance art and arcitecture. Indeed, Firenze is the gem of Tuscany. The city of Medici. The city of the Renaissance. From Giotto to Michelangelo, from Dante to Boccaccio, from Machiavelli to Galileo and Leonardo DaVinci, Firenze gave Italy her greatest artists, writers and scientists and out of her soul was born the whole of humanistic aesthetic. Vasari attributes it all simply to the purity of Tuscan air, which is probably as good an explanation as any.

the Firenze duomo, Santa Maria del Fiore

During our short excursion through Firenze, we go to the Convent of San Marco, which was completed in 1445 for the Dominican monks at the expense of the Medici family, who were wealthy bankers and art patrons. In each cell of the convent there is a different fresco of a devotional image painted by one of the monks who lived there. Though the rooms are roped off to prevent people from entering more than a foot or two into the space, Tom Mills, always the advocate for getting into places for artistic purposes by any means necessary, defiantly goes into the roped off are to sit down and draw his favorite painting. At on point the security guard walks over and peers into the room to see what is going on in there but says nothing about him actually being in there, which just astounds me. I am beginning to see how, in this country at least, artists are regarded with a certain reverence and often are able to gain privileges and access to places that are closed off to the general public. I really like this idea and I wish the concept were a lot more wide-spread, especially in the US where artists struggle to gain any sort of respect for their studies.

Loggia dei Lanzi in the Piazza della Signoria

The last place I stop by to see while in Florence is the Piazza della Signoria, where they put all of including the Perseus; the Rape of the Sabines, Donatello's Judith and these famous sculptures, Holofemes and the copy of Michaelangelo's David, placed in the same location in front of the town hall for which the work was originally intended. Of course, being an art student in Florence, I, as well as a couple of others in my small group, fell it the properly stereotypical thing to do to pull out our sketchbooks and attempt to do some studies of these masterworks. Such a world-famous work as the David can be rather intimidating to even attempt to capture when it is standing right in front of you, and in doing so it is important to accept the fact that your sketches will never be able to do the work justice. Instead, they are meant to be used to study the form and proportions of the body in hopes of gaining an understanding of what it is that gives the David its power and life force. It is rather surprising to note how big his head and hands are in proportion to the rest of his body, which in my mind is an anthropomorphic style meant to symbolize the surety and strength of his hands with a rock and sling, as well as his intelligence and sharpness of mind.

With about a half hour left before we have to meet up with the rest of the group and head off to our next destination, I decide to sit down on the floor of the piazza right in front of the David and continue doing sketch studies, accompanied by Chris, who was working in water colors. Being that there was a constant stream of tourists and large tour groups coming into the piazza, we found ourselves in a rather awkward position to be situated, and if I hadn't had someone else to do it with me, I doubt I would have had the courage to keep it up for very long. It's an interesting feeling when any artist is doing his own work in a public setting such as this. Chris,who has done this a lot more often than I, tells me that he has always felt that whenever he is doing any sort of sketching or painting in public, he feels as if it almost becomes like a performance piece as well. No matter how much you try to ignore the people around you watching and commenting on your work to their friends, you must realize that you are inevitably making a spectacle of yourself, and do your best to try and not let that effect your work. Indeed, the entire time I sat there, already being fairly self-conscious about my rather rough sketchwork, I had to hear tourists behind me making comments (probably not realizing that I speak English and could understand everything they were saying) and it is rather funny that of the few times I turned my head to look around me, I saw people taking pictures of the pair of us working just as much as they were taking pictures of the David statue.

Florence is a beautiful city, and a wonderful place for any artist or art historian to go and study, but it is all together too touristy for my taste. One girl in my group actually lived here for about a year as a painter's apprentice and she says that she never really had to learn any Italian the entire time she was here because the mass of the tourist industry makes it so that all the Italians living here must learn how to speak English for their benefit, which in my mind is a rather sad stae of affairs for the people, the culture and thehistory of this place. At 5:30 we leave Firenze and, crossing the Appenine chain, we reach Bologna, the capital of the Emilia-Romagna region, where we spend the night.

Self Portraits- series #1

I'm starting a series of self portraits that all represent some aspect of myself

*note*
yes, I did take all these pictures myself, but if you can't tell, all the better

This series I call "Spaghetti Western"

I think this is my favorite picture in this sort series

the name "Spaghetti Western" came from a bunch of western style films that were made in the first half of the 20th century by Italian directors. Often using Italian actors (except for the main "hero" character who had to be American) and filming in parts of Italy that resemble the landscape of the American West. Except for the main American actor, the actors would often say their lines in Italian, and then it would be dubbed over for the American audience.

obviously, I applied different effects to these pictures in order to get a different feel from them. Kind of just playing around to see what sort of stuff I can do with the image to get a different reaction to each one.

for this one, i juxtaposed the image of myself with the images of my bedroom wall, which has pictures of my family and friends, as well as other objects, who are an integral aspect of myself. even though at this point many would hardly recognize the person in the mirror as being me, the wall, in a sense, represents some of the things that got me to where I am today, even though I sometimes cloak these things in a protective, but still fancier, "jacket and hat"

Ok, seriously, enough with the BS "artist's statement." Truth is I just like how the image of myself looks on the wall with all my other pictures, because you almost don't even notice that it's actually looking into a mirror at first, like it could just be a wall poster or something.

Northern Tour- Day 2

We spent the first night of our tour in a modest hotel in Siena and awoke early this morning for our tour with Ezio. I had been looking forward to this return since we had come here for the Palio in mid-August. This enchanting city has quickly won the hearts of the entire group. According to legend, Siena was settled by Senus, son of Remus, twin brother of Romulus, the mythological founder of Rome. It played a significant role in the history of Italy especially in Medieval times, for its convenient position along the pilgrimage road called Francigena, in the middle of a hilly landscape called Crete. Its buildings and lanscapes, as well as traditions such as the Palio di Siena, are still very much unchanged since Medievel times, and its strong sense of community ties and responsibilities has led to the city being able to boast the lowest crime rates and the lowest drug addiction rates in the entire country. Luckily, since we got to see the Palio a month ago, we were able to see these community ties at their fullest and experience the true spirit of Siena rather than the small glimpse the average tourist take away on any other given day. Thus far, if I were able to choose any place to live in Italy for the rest of my life, it would be a close tie between Siena and some more remote coastal/mountain region.

a small side street in Siena I went to to draw, 

it was surprisingly peaceful, the only sounds coming

from small birds chirping above me.  

In the late afternoon/evening we had plenty of free time to use as we pleased. After a short nap I ventured out by myself to explore around the town and perhapsdo a little more shopping for special treasures to bring back home to family and friends. After much searching and deliberation with myself I finally picked out 2 beautiful cashmere and silk scarves and a cranberry colored wool fedora hat for myself. Together with my other purchases of the day, as well as what I bought yesterday, I have already spent an alarming amount of money so early in the trip, though I don't regret a single purchase and am rather pleased with my wares.

At night I go out to get something to eat and on the way pass by an old man begging on the street. I am always torn in these situations because I don't really like just giving money to people when I don't really know what they are going to use that money to buy. And though I would really like to help them out in any way I can, I also must realize that I don't have the resources or the money to help every begger I see. I turn back around anyways and go to ask the man (in Italian of course) what he would like to eat, be it some pizza, a sandwich, pasta or something like that. He tells me that he would simply like a piece of some cheese pizza, which I am happy to oblidge, for I was just going to get some myself. I leave him there and go to this pizza place that has some truly excellent pizza that I had tried the night before that is much like the American style pan pizza, only better. I get a slice pizza margherita (cheese with tomato sauce) for him and a slice for me with salami piccante (like pepperoni, but bigger and spicey-er), which wipes me out of all the money I had brought with me for dinner. Heading back, I inevitably get lost amoung the darkened streets and by the time I find my way back to where the man was standing, the pizza is barely still warm. We sit down together on the side of the street to eat our pizza and we talk about life and what I'm doing in Siena and such. I am rather disappointed when I learn that he doesn't much like the pizza I got because he has a hard time digesting the bread of the thicker crust this pizza has on it, though he is still rather pleased that I got it for him and am keeping him some company for dinner. Though I am sorry that I can't do more for him, I am glad to see in his eyes the spark of joy he got from someone reaching out and treating him with dignity and respect. I am sad to think of how much he reminds me of my own poor Granny and Grandpa and the hardships that they have gone through with their living situation. I can only hope and pray that this man finds happiness and blessings for the rest of his life, for surely he doesn't deserve having to endure such pain and hunger living here on the streets, he is just as good a person as you and I.

When I get back to the hotel, I turn on BBC World News and hear of nothing but economic crisis-es sweeping the American, and in turn, World, economy. 

Don't I know it. 

Northern Tour- Day 1

Traveling through the hills of Chianti to Siena, I make an attempt to read my book for Art History, but it's impossible. The views I am passing by are just too beautiful to keep my eyes focused on anything else. Here was the second short stop on our Northern Tour. Amoung these lush hills and valleys lies the small town of Greve, which is renowned for being the most important Chianti wine trading center in the world. Annually, they have a wine fair called Rassegna del Chianti Classico with wine-tasting, wine-blessing, and lots of festivities. Today we came just for that reason. 

For 10 euro you get a wine glass and 8 samplings of any wine of your choice. Not wanting to drink quite that much wine, I decide instead to observe what other people are drinking and hope to find something special to take back home to the States with me. The first one I try already seems to be a good choice. I swirl around the deep red wine in the glass and observe how the legs form and smoothly drip down, then I stick my nose in the top of the glass and take a deep breath, inhaling the rich aroma of the wine and getting a feel for the make-up of it. Finally, taking a small amount into my mouth, I swish it around a bit and let it settle on my palette before swallowing it down. This one is fairly light, stable, with a hint of fruit and a nice, almost peppery aftertaste. Good for a romantic dinner or a New Year's toast but perhaps too spicey for a late summer/early fall dinner wine. I have found that I actually have a very sensitive palette for these things. Now I will be the first to admit that I don't know a heck of a lot about different wines, but I can still easily detect different flavors and "punctuation marks" (my own term) in the wine that many other people dont really notice. I don't actually drink wine very often,(usually only on special occasions) but perhaps this fact actually increases my sesitivity to all its various flavors, I don't know. One notable wine I tasted today is called "La Futura." It is a very robust, deep red wine that's rather hard to describe in terms of what they put in it. As Tom Mills (a wonderful RISD drawing teacher who is here on sebbatical for the next year and a half) rather aptly put it: "It's like drinking the blood of the cow." And indeed, it really does have an almost bloody taste to it, kind of like eating a rare steak, and just as pricey at 40 euro($60) a bottle. I try other rich wines that are quite good, fruity, but a little dry for my liking, and one which has a rather surprising taste to it that is remakably different than any other red wine I've ever had. I don't quite know how I feel about it and others in my group are quite divided in their likings to it as well, some liking it so much that they purchase a bottle for themselves and others hateing it so much that they grimice and say it's the worst Chianti they've ever had. Another variety, which I had never seen before and am sorry I didn't get the chance to taste for myself, is an bright amber colored wine that is apparently made from honey, though I am told that, while it does have a very strong honey flavor, it isn't actually very sweet like I would have thought it would be. One of the last wines I tasted is also quite good (I only remember that it was a #44 Chianti) and I immediatly got the sense that it was the type of wine that would perfectly complement some fancy pre-dinner bread and cheese. Deciding that this would be a good type to bring home at Christmas time for my family to try, (for surely my Grandparents will be visiting and they never seem to fail in bringing some excellent breads and cheeses for us to try) I set about trying to find a store in town that was selling it.  Alas, after searching store after store, including the quite large Greve Museo di Vino, I could not find this particular wine model and I settled on a lesser quality, but still comparable Chianti. I will continue to look for this model elsewhere in hopes of finding a bottle sometime before I leave Italy.

Earlier, we had gone to Cortona, a small town in the moutains just south of Greve, to see the Museo Diocesano, which holds a small collection of paintings, with a few true Renaissance masterpieces. Sadly, this is just one more beautiful little town with a rich history that seems to exist purely through tourism, although they are quite well known for the high quality leather products that come from there, as well as their own special way of curing prosciutto (ham). Before leaving Cortona I stopped by a little antique store where the antique dealer, a nice old man, was more than happy to converse with me about all of his various treasures, and I was happy to further  work on my Italian speaking skills since he didn't seem to understand a word of English.

Though it had been drizzling fairly all day, this did not dampen our spirits and the cool moutain air was a welcome reprieve from the heat and humidity we have endured in Rome. Now coming down from Greve, the sun is just peeking out of the coulds and a deep fog is rising from the valley, enhancing depth perception beautifully, while at the same time diffusing light and masking parts of the landscape. As the writer Goeth so nicely puts it: "Even when one object is only a few steps further away than another, the difference in depth is clearly distinguished by a different tint of light blue. . . . I no longer saw Nature, but pictures; it was as if some very skillful painter had applied glaze to secure a proper gradation of tone."  Snaking around the hills and valleys of vineyards, these "earth clouds" produce a most enchanting effect, I don't believe I've ever seen anything else quite like it and I hope that it is not the last time I get to enjoy such a sight. It all just takes my breath away.

Una Storia di Villa Pamphilli Park

We are explorers of the world. Out on a journey of discovery.

Provisions: Lanterns, water, sketchbook, and the ever-present 

                      digital camera/camcorder.

Destination: Adventure.

The park is situated just a couple of miles away. Across the Tiber, through Trastevere, and on top of the 8th hill of Rome. It's quite peaceful up there. The grass is quite dry for lack of rain but the more desertic plants are thriving and keeping it overall, green. Situated at regular intervals along the trail are life-size sculptures of various dignitaries and nobles from yesteryear, though most of them have already been decapitated. Coming upon the grand palazzo, with its piazza of elegantly cut maze hedges, we take a different turn, towards a large fountain which greatly resembles a giant sand sculpture, its walls formed seemingly by dripping wet sand so that each drop freezes where it falls, as well as the sculptures of mythological sea creatures guarding the inner heart of the fountain. This being one of the only dry fountains I have come across in Rome, we step inside to get a closer look. 

We can tell that the center part of it is an old well from which the water was probably originally drawn. Peering inside, lo and behold! There is a staircase spiraling down into it! One by one, with lanterns in hand, all 6 of us gingerly climb up and in, disappearing from sight as far as the rest of the world can tell.

The bottom of the well, dark and cool, houses the large pipe once used to bring in

 the water, after the well dried up. And the pipe continues on into a deep, narrow tunnel, which seems to absorb all the light emitting from our lanterns, soaked up by an inky darkness. There's no telling where this long forgotten passage underground leads to, or at least where it once led to, for unfortunately, about 50 feet back, though I could hardly see anything at all, the pass came to an abrupt end, only allowing the pipe to continue on.

After the darkness of the well, the sun seems to be beating down on us especially bright and hot, and we yearn for the cool reprise we know awaits us deeper into the park.

Eventually, we come upon it. Another fountain, on the edge of a small cliff, full to the brim this time with remarkably clear, frigid water spewing out the top into a pool abut 4 and a half feet deep, and draining down the center to cascade down the cliff and into a man-made river, which, after going through another series of waterworks and falls, deposits into a large pond, teeming with little red-eared slider turtles, ducks, and even a family of swans. 

While others strip down to their underwear and dive into the fountain's pool, I sit on the edge and stick my tired legs and feet into the water, where they soon become numb from the cold. Though not wanting to fully immerse myself, for I had no towel or change of cloths with me, I submitted to the heat and took off my shirt so that I could submerge it in the frigid water and then put it back on my over-heated body. What a sweet reprise it is to have such an effective cooling agent out in nature! The only thing we had to worry about is making sure no park police are around to see us, for swimming in a public fountain, as we were told by another man who had come with his dog (a cocker spaniel named "bimba," which means baby girl) to swim, would land each of us a fine of 200 euro, or about $350.

Afterwards, we went down to the river and, wishing to cross it, decided it would be a good idea to scale across the statues, plants, and waterworks at the head of the river where the water was pouring out. With much care and effort we all managed to get across unscathed (save for a few cuts from large thorny bushes) and without damaging anything.

Moving right along we finally came upon our final destination of the day. 

Wild fig trees.

Growing fairly short, with low, wide-spread branches, these trees are very easy to climb and pick their sun-ripened fruit. Soon enough we had gathered a significant pile of the fresh fruit and were trying to find ways to transport them all back home without getting too much of the plant's milky sap everywhere, which tends to irritate the skin. 

Crossing through a large field where these unusual Italian trees grow straight and tall, only branching out at the very top, where they always seem to form a perfectly shaped canopy, we exit the park. Promising a happy return later to further explore its outreaches and see what other surprises still lay in store for us to discover, but in the meantime, we sure do have a lot of figs to eat.

  Happy trails,

        ~Rachael

 

(Photos courtesy of Aiden Vitti, using her Nikon D60)  

all of my pictures for you to see

Just so you all know, I just got a Flickr account to store all my photos onto and so that everyone can see them easily.

The address is: www.flickr.com/photos/rachaelrudnik

I just finished uploading all of my pics from the Palio di Siena, which was AMAZING, so I definitely suggest you check those out.
If you want to save any of the pictures onto your computer all you have to do is click on the thumbnail of the one you want to see, then at the top left hand corner of the bigger picture you click on the icon that says "available sizes", which will give you a larger size, and if you want the original size, which is even bigger than that you just click on that link, which is on the right most side of the "Available sizes" list at the top of the page, then of course to save it you just right click on the image and select "save image to my computer"
hope this helps!

~rachael

So I'll Find a Cave

The other day I wanted to have some cereal that I had just gotten for dinner, it was Special K with peaches and apricots (do they have that in the states?). Anyways, I put some sugar on it because Special K usually needs at least a little bit of sweetener, and then then I take a bite. Realizing that I just put a mouthful of very salty milk and cereal in my mouth, I immediately run to the sink and spit it out, much to the pleasure of those lucky enough to witness my folly. I couldn't believe it! I had just put a spoonful of salt all over my cereal! The box wasn't labeled clearly enough, for sure, but at least I wont be making that mistake again. Thing is, I had been using that box of salt for the past month thinking that it was sugar! Putting it in tomato sauces and the like to try to bring down the acidity of the tomatoes, when in fact all I was really doing was increasing the iodine. Amazingly, I didn't even notice until this incident that what I was using was salt, I believe there was only one other time that I did that and thought that I had put too much salt in the dish, but in that case, not only did I add the "sugar", but I also gave it a few extra shakes from the salt shaker! LOL. How glorious it is when you realize that you are the most ridiculous person you know! Though I hate to think of how much salt I've actually consumed since I got here. I'll try to take it easy on the salt from now on.

I've been reading a lot about St. Francis lately and feel even more drawn to him than I was before. (pretty much only because I liked those statues of him talking to the birds)
He was devoted to the ideal of "Lady Poverty" and a oneness with the earth and the land, equality with all creatures and everything he considered to have a spirit of its own (i.e. "Brother Sun, Sister Moon") What Grace he had! A pure and simple heart, but an intelligent and humble mind. I hope that someday I too will be able to go out as a poor pilgrim and connect with God in the wilds of his creation. But the land is not as it once was in Francis' time. The wilderness has been mostly tamed, and it would be very difficult to find any significant amount of landscape leftover from what Francis traveled through, so I supposed that if there is any hope for me finding such a place, I'd better look now, before the wilds of Italy become extinct. Who knows? maybe I can even find myself a cave to sleep in while I'm there, just like the cave Francis went to to talk with God!

Not Much to say

Umm, I dont really have much to say with this one. This past week was pretty regular comparatively, so I'm going to try to make plans to travel somewhere next weekend, havent decided where yet though, there are so many places to choose from. top of the list though are Assisi, Pompeii, Venice, somewhere along the beach, or somewhere in the mountains where I can (hopefully) get back to nature, maybe go camping or something (yes I have a tent, but no sleeping bag) I have been saving my money for far too long and I feel like it's not getting me anywhere to do that so I'm just going to forget about being such a saver and just go out and have some grand ol' adventure.

"Just Because You Love Me" Wish list:
1. Food and a good pair of shoes for all the children of the world
2. a Walcom tablet, or a good sized Bamboo tablet

that is all

Day of the Assumption

I have been living here for about 3 weeks now and I have only just started to realize how Rome has captured my whole being, just as it does to the millions of people who come here every tourist season. For me at least, Rome is called the eternal city because time doesn't really seem to exist here. There is no on Roman history, but rather many histories, piled one on top of another just like the many layers of plaster and paint upon the walls of the ancient buildings, which seem as though they are all leaning against one another for support. In this place I feel as if I too could just live on forever, with everything staying as it has always been, and me never growing tired of it. One must always approach this city with a sense of adventure, plenty of time to spare, and a good pair of walking shoes. In the maze of these streets it is often best to just forget about a map (for they could never site all of Rome anyways) and just walk wherever the spirit leads you. There is perhaps no better surprise than that which you get by happening upon places such as Campo di Fiore, Porta Portese, the Pantheon, Largo Argentina, the Spanish steps or the Trevi Fountain quite by accident, as if it just appeared out of nowhere, and you begin to feel in your heart that you inherently knew the way all along and were led to these places by some magical force. Trying to plan routes around this place becomes obsolete once you finally realize that the shortest distance from one point to another is not really a straight line, but more of a figure 8. With all the times I've gotten lost in this city I have never once regretted a wrong turn, leading me down a new path of discovery. I hope that my ability to get completely lost in this city never fades, for I means that my time here is still quite young.

In the mornings I wake up just before 7 to unlock the studio doors and prepare myself for the day ahead. I eat a light breakfast in the downstairs kitchen while listening to opera or classical music, relishing in the peace of the morning and the short period of cool fresh air that blows in from the large French windows before the sun gets high and hot. I then go outside for a morning stroll and inevitably find myself gravitating to Campo di Fiore, where there is a fresh fruit and vegetable market every morning. The sizable chunk of watermelon I get for a mere 1,15 euro is perfectly ripened and sweet this time of year, grown in patches just a short distance outside of Rome. Today I walk along the Tiber in Trastevere. Being the 15th of August, which was originally the Feast of Emperor Augustus, but is now celebrated as the the day of the Assumption of Mary, it is a national holiday, which consequently means that the entire city has been deserted and you would be hard-pressed to find a single shop or cafe' open. The only people I pass by are the lonely stragglers and lost tourists, who were left unaware of the day's significance, and now wander aimlessly around searching for some place that has remained open. I come to realize how there really is no need for a watch when walking around, first because there is bound to be a church or basilica nearby which will ring its bells every 15 minutes, and second because such tight schedules should never exist here. The serenity of this place and these people are enough to make even the most time-organized people forget where and when they are, further adding to the timelessness of Rome. Serenity. Yes, that is possibly the best way to describe it. Not just today but every day it can be felt. The Italian word for serenity is serene, which means to be completely contented with one's life and surroundings, no matter the situation. It would seem as though this is the collective mindset of all Roman people, and indeed, it is quite easy to become contented here. I don't have much here, and live quite simply with what I have, but all of those things which are not available to me seem to be luxuries now. I realize that they are quite unnesessary in living a full and beautiful life.
Truly I am blessed, and I pray that you may be blessed as well.
Love,
Rachael

My Independent Study Projects

Since I have been here I have felt inspired everyday for projects that I want to do during my time here. Before I got here I had been planning on working on product design for people who are blind or visually impaired, but the more that Rome influences me, the more I desire to step away from product design and pursue projects that I, till now, have not been able to experience within the confines of my major.

     For the first half of my independent study, I plan on working on combining animation and sound to create a video which shows what a person with complete blindness "sees" while traveling through the streets of Rome using a white cane. Using line, color and sound to represent all of the senses (except sight, of course), I aim to show how we can "see" the beauty and grandeur of Rome, without even using our eyes.

     For the second half, once I have had more experience being in Rome, I plan on making either an artist book or an exhibition display. Through the use of tactile representation, I aim to give a kind of "tale" about Rome and it's history. This will be a sort of "sighted guide" guide book, specifically for people with complete vision loss.

This is just a very short, rough trial clip showing the type of animation I could do. Though the final will hopefully look way more refined, and will be richer, visually.

Out of Context

Word for the day:
Enthusiasm
derived from the latin word "enthios"
"en"-meaning "in" or "with"
and "thios"-meaning "God"
Therefore, when we say we are enthusiastic, it means that we have the spirit of God in us.
I really like this definition. Thank you Ezio for your wisdom.

Today, for our art history tour we went to one of the branches of the Museo Nazional Romano, which is inside of an old power plant. It was quite strange to see these ancient sculptures in this industrial setting.



It makes for a very interesting relation, but I can't help feel that it is not really doing these works any justice by completely separating them from the context that they were made for and putting them in such a foreign environment. I know we couldn't truly get the real feeling for these pieces and it was hard to imagine what sort of world these relics originally belonged to, but I enjoyed it non-the-less, and I was actually somewhat even more interested in all the old machines that still remain in the building.

On another note:
Grapes here are huge! They are seeded, but its really easy to take the seeds out. And so very sweet and purple! what a difference it makes when you have native produce that has been grown in the same region it is sold in the outdoors farmer's markets, instead of being packaged and shipped hundreds, or even thousands of miles to a grocery store.

"Here was Rome indeed at last; and such a Rome as no one can imagine in its full and awful grandeur!" ~Mark Twain

Things change

But why do they change? That is the question.

Do things really have to change through some force of nature or the pull of the universe, or is it only through the discontented nature of human beings that we will always long for diversity. Shying away from true stability in the interest of "growth" or "adventure." But how much can a plant grow if it keeps on being moved from one garden to another? Truly, it is only when the plant is given a stable home and a permanent place in the ground that it can really take root and thrive, bearing fruit year after year. 

What will happen when stability is lost? 

If you take out a column from the piazza(house), will the apse and lintel(roof) fall?

Or will the remaining columns be sufficient in holding it?

Surely, the building remains stable, as it has always been, but if you were to look closely you would find cracks and strains, permanent scars on the structure which could not be mended even if the missing column were to be returned to the place it once stood.

Do you get what I am saying here?

You Are Beautiful

You are beautiful my dear.

I just wanted you to know.

You are beautiful in spirit,

You are beautiful in soul.

Adventurous and bold,

Courteous and kind,

Never one to fret,

You always keep your mind.

Always humble and gracious,

With your love for others showing through,

You never stray from God,

He is everything to you.

And you ask Him for guidance

In everything you do.

For this reason you are blessed,

I pray this always be true.

You are beautiful in body,

You are beautiful in mind.

Your eyes always sparkle,

While your heart always shines.

Your smile and your laughter

Affect all who are near.

For God made you who you are,

And you are beautiful my dear.

Nature and science,

Music and art.

Life is your venture!

Quick to learn and quick to start.

You are beautiful my dear.

I just wanted you to know.

For God made you who you are,

And from you he'll never go.

                    ~Rachael Rudnik

*this poem was written with a couple of people in mind, whom I hold so dear.

I thank God for you, my family, my friends   

I wish i had photos for this one

Ok, so my wireless access here is very limited, which is why I'm having such a difficult time uploading pictures and stuff that I take.

I've been meaning to write a whole lot more but I've found it difficult to find a time where I want to be just sitting inside writing, when I could be outside exploring all the magical wonders of this place.

Oddly enough, Rome feels more like home than providence did, Except for all the ancient buildings, of course. Same climate. similar vegetation (I had no idea they had palm trees here!). and of course, a very similar sense of language barrier, especially since Italian and Spanish are quite similar.

I am doing fantastic, so no worries. I start Italian classes on Monday and art history classes on Tuesday, and I haven't even begun to think about working on my project that I'm planning to do, which has changed a bit but is still the same sort of audience, but that will all come in time.

Italy has a much different pace than the US. Everyone seems much more relaxed here. they have more patience (except when it come to driving) and they put their own happiness and their family before work. It seems that because of this, Italians are just much happier overall.

It's nice to lead a very simple life, all this technology and consumerism today just makes things a heck of alot more complicated and really adds very little to ones own quality of life. Encase I haven't told you yet, my new goal is to learn how to play the banjo. I just need to find one first. So far, I have had zero luck finding one in Italy, not that I've actually looked that hard, or even expect to find one here, but wouldn't it be cool if I did?

It's always beautiful in Rome

Forecast Conditions: Rome, Italy

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Jul 29

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Last Updated Jul 29, 7:13 AM Local Time