Napoli: luminoso, sporco, e magico (Naples: bright, dirty, and magical)

Saturday, September 26, 2015 11:34 AM


Ciao amici! Come state?

I've finally gotten around to writing! I'm happy that I finally have the time to write but I am also very disappointed that it took me this long (it's been a week since I went to Naples) because I am afraid that the magic I brought with me from Naples has worn off. I'll try my best to search within me to find it for you.

Napoli è magico. 
Napoli ti prende, ti attraversa, e ti ritorna come non sei mai stato prima.

That is the most concise way I can explain what I felt. The entire trip was a bit of a dream: never truly touching the ground but feeling so attached to the world and earth beneath you.

We stepped on the train from Rome to Napoli and 3 minutes later the train was on his way. Side note: the train system in Europe is amazing. North America, step up. The train ride by itself was amazing, on one side we could see the never ending infinity of mountains and the other was filled with rolling hills of vineyards. We finally arrived to Naples two hours later (it takes me two hours to exit the confines of Dallas in Texas so I was amazed).

First impression of Naples: loud, populated, dirty, delicious, electric.

Our hostel (Pizza Hostel bc Pizza Margherita was created in Naples) was located beside one of the main streets of Naples and as we walked down this street I looked up to see a seemingly never ending street filled with hundreds of hungry, loud, and diverse swarms of people. It was unreal. I had to take a deep, full breath before taking my first step into this beehive street.

We quickly dropped off our bags at our hostel and began to explore Naples. First things first, we bought our three bottles of €1 wine and our €3 personal Pizza Margherita. Oh, Naples is also super cheap and delicious, two of my favorite things in life. We sat on the street and ate our delicious pizza. I ate pizza from the ground, it was great.

We went off in search of the Castel Sant'Elmo and found a man that sold us handmade cameos. When we finally arrived at the castle it was golden hour and the lighting was breathtaking. The lighting, mixed with the volcanoes, the sea, the castle, the music and the city all coming together as one felt like a complete dream and I could not bring myself to believe this was real. I wouldn't believe I actually experienced this beauty if it wasn't for the photographic proof I have. All I can say is that it was magical. Pure magic on top of that castle overlooking the Naples' topography.

We left to have dinner and when we returned to the castle its ancient walls contained the rumor of a modern day, italian folk music festival. Yes, last week I was standing on top of an ancient Napoli castle overlooking the Napoli volcanoes, mountains, sea, and midnight skyline while drinking straight from a wine bottle and listening to live italian music, what d'ya do?

My most treasured memory from Napoli was taking in the night view on top of the castle. I experienced an overpowering serenity that I've never felt anywhere else. Napoli, you are my magic.

The next day we happened to walk into another castle that contained a bomb ass art exhibit right before spending our last couple of hours in Napoli by the sea. I'm so cultured.

Till next time Napoli, you are missed.

Un bacio da me a voi.

Ci vediamo. Alla prossima!

Posso sentire gli antichi sussurri dei romani (I can hear the ancient whispers of the Romans)

Wednesday, September 16, 2015 6:58 PM

Buona sera tutti! Good evening everyone!

I will start this blog entry with a poem I wrote a few days ago.

In the style of Aldo Palazzeschi:

Andiamo?
Andiamo pure.

Alla strada dei graffiti.

Deostruita.

Le machine. Velocemente.

Pace.

Entri, entri.

Alla ragione.

Al rumore della tecnologia.

La serratura.

È chiusa?

3.

Machine sud.

2.

Machine nord.

La spazzatura della vita.

Della società.

La religione.

Non ha mai.

La vita. Il respiro della vita.

Voglia di un gelato?

Un gelato.

Una copia.

Uno. Uno. Uno.

1.

Rossa. Nero.

1.

Machina.

2.

Moto. E738092.

La paura.

Sono persa, devo andare.

Praticare. Sicurezza.

Siamo qui.

Devo fare.

Fatto. Faccio. Farò.

Torniamo?

Torniamo Pure.

I had such an amazing experience writing this poem. Not only did I walk and write on the same street that Palazzeschi lived on and wrote La Passeggiata on, but I was also able to see the Rome that many tourists, and even native Italians, often glance over.

During Prof. Mullins' lectures we discussed "l'anima doppia" of Rome. Essentially, they are the souls of Rome, not split in half, but rather, reflected. It is the same Rome, but we see different versions of it. It is a bit like when you look in a mirror. The person you see is yourself, but that is a very different person than the person your friends, your family, and strangers see. You only see your reflection, but it is you all the same. It is the same with Rome. She has two souls: twins that merge into one. The soul that most people see is the tourist Rome, the every day Rome, the Rome you see in postcards, but the Rome that you can't feel, only see. The other soul is the one that is the living, breathing, and ever preserved Rome. She talks to you. She whispers in your ear and kisses your hair. She takes you back to the days that only she remembers.

I was lucky enough to experience this soul, while I was sitting on the fountain steps of Piazza di Santa Maria in Trastevere. There were tourists there, but I was able to look beyond them and feel the Rome of the past. The Rome that traveled to me and greeted me with the smell of ancient pietra. For a few minutes I was able to experience a Rome that you can only meet if you meet her half way. I was reading Marco Lodoli's Isole: Guida Vagabonda di Roma, when a passage spoke to me. It read, "Ma in fondo il valore delle cose risiede soprattutto nel nostro modo di osservarle." But deep down the value of things, lies above all, in the way we observe.

...

Today we went to the Ancient Rome Forum, and I was absolutely consumed by the whispers of the ancient romans. Prof. Paolo has an amazing gift of speaking from the heart, mind, and soul. I was absolutely absorbed by the words coming out of his lips when he spoke of the Umbilicus Urbis. I'm going to recount a bit of what Paolo said to us.

“Camminiamo sopra il corpo della nostra madre romana – la nostra primogenita. Un giorno all’anno entriamo al Umbilicus Urbis è ritorniamo al ventre della nostra madre in una forma magica e mistica. È una rinascimento, una fertilizzazione.”

...

This afternoon I had a realization about the Italian language and the power it holds over me, or rather, the power I hold with it.

Over the past week I have been extremely comfortable with the Italian language. I speak it without fear, without embarrassment, and sometimes without even thinking about it. It is such an organic feeling, the words just flow right out. Actually, I have been able to completely be myself: my true self, not the self that has to interchange the "I's" that lie within me. All of my "I's" are able to roam freely and naturally. The Italian language is a bit of a comfort blanket in the sense that I hide behind it as a way to expose my true self. Very contradictory, I know. It might be a mixture of this entirely new country, language, and experience, but I can finally breathe and not be afraid of being me. The language is not hindrance for me, but rather, a vessel that carries me to where I had been afraid to go before.

Un bacio da me a voi.

Ci vediamo. Alla prossima!

Ho trovato il paradiso (I found heaven)

Sunday, September 13, 2015 10:55 AM

Ciao amici!

Come state How are you?

I've been a bit MIA, I'm sorry, I've just been exploring the beautiful city of Rome. I'm actually not sorry at all for that. It's been AMAZING. Okay, let me fill you guys in, there's a lot. Prepare yourselves.

Ho andato a vedere il papa e stavo mangiato il pranzo, mi dispiace I went to see the pope and ate lunch, I'm sorry 

2:24 PM

First of all, it's still a little weird to transition between languages throughout the day, it's very tiring actually. At the end of the day my brain è stanchissimo is extremely tired. Just a few seconds ago I was having a two hour conversation with my mamma in Italian, now I'm writing in English, and in a few hours I will be talking on the phone with my parents in Spanish. It's a lot, but I'll definitely get used to it.

I have to prepare everything for domani tomorrow. Everyone in Italy starts school tomorrow, including myself. I already bought all my materials - in Italy, much like Mexico, there are businesses for everything. You don't go to a single place like Walmart and find everything you need, you have to walk down an entire street or more to find everything you need. "Mom and Pop"s if you will. Point is, I had to go (along with Caroline and Francine) to the cartoleria (this doesn't translate exactly because we don't have them in America, but it's kind of like an office depot) to get my materials for school. Let me tell you, the stationary in Italy is fucking adorable. So cute. I will be bringing some home! Oh! I also bought a cat calendar, because I love cats, they love me, we love each other. It's called "I gatti di Roma" Cats of Rome. They are adorable and remind me of my baby (Olive). She's going to be huge when I get back! So a heads up to whoever is going to dorm with me next term: there will be a cat calendar in our room.

We had orientation about three days ago (I have lost track of time in a city where time seems to stand still). I have three professors, Professore Mullins (from Dartmouth), Professore Stefano, and Professore Paulo. I'm guessing professors in Italy (or at least university professors) are on a first name base with their students. I am in Rome with a professor named Paolo. I am Lizzie McGuire. I love all my professors and I am excited to start school but tbh I can't wait for professore Paolo's lecture! He is my art history professor and are lectures consist of walking around Rome for three hours. He is such an Italian, so romantic, so in love with Italy. He says, "la città è il tuo libro" Rome is your book. Mi piace la sua mentalità I like his mentality. First thing on my list of things to blog about, check!

The day before yesterday Professore Mullins sent us on a wild goose chase. Not really. He sent us on a scavenger hunt. My group was the best, obviously. We're great. Honestly, we had Peyton who protected and guided us (no one fucks with Peyton, he's like 7 feet tall, lol not really, forse maybe), we had Alyssa who knows when to take pictures and knows when to move on, and me of course, I'm just an amazing photographer, just. We didn't win, but that was because we walked EVERYWHERE. We took the metro once and that was because it started raining and we were SOAKED. I MEAN SOAKED. I can't even explain how beautiful every place we went to was. We went to about 5 piazzas, if you follow me on snapchat you saw them all (@cecyhearts). My favorite, hands down, definitely had to be Piazza di San Pietro. We walked into the piazza and my heart stopped. It was heaven, or at least the closest thing I have come to seeing, feeling, and experiencing heaven here on earth. The sun was coming down and was hitting La Basilica di San Pietro from the back, it was magnificent, if you follow me on instagram you saw (@sassyleahh). Everything was glowing with the suns last rays. The fountain was overflowing in a way that my soul overflows when the Holy Spirit enters me. It was overflowing but there seemed to never be too much water. Mi capisci Do you understand me? I can't explain the emotions that I felt at that moment. I was in heaven, that's it. For those few minutes I was in paradise. Everything glowed with a white light. I went back today for the Papal Blessing, which I will write about in a bit, but it wasn't the same. The piazza was still magnificent and beautiful, but it wasn't that paradise that I experienced that day. Remember how I said it was raining at the beginning of our scavenger hunt? Remember that. When we got to the Vatican a song entered my heart and I had to sing it. It goes, "Ven Espiritu ven y llename señor con tu preciosa uncion. Purificame y lavame, renuevame, y restaurame, señor con tu poder." This is a spanish song that we sing at my church. The part that gets me is that he did wash me. He purified me with his rain just before entering his paradise. This was my rainbow. Sono qui, Dio I'm here, God.

Yesterday, Francesca and Luca took us around the city to a few of their favorite places: the peep hole where you can perfectly see La Basilica di San Pietro (sul il mio Instagram), and the Orange Gardens. I loved it. We sat down for a while and parliamo we talked. I laid down under a tree and listened to the conversations, the music coming from a man playing the trumpet, the yelps and laughter of two boys playing soccer, the murmur of the people, and the wind brushing upon the leaves. I let the sun kiss my arm and toes. It was pure bliss. If you come to Italy in a hurry, don't come. It's not worth it. You'll only be a tourist. In order to truly find the beauty of Italy you must listen to her voice. You must listen intently because she does not repeat anything. She is fleeting. I imagine this is why the Italian Renaissance was such a beautiful time. I imagine Michelangelo sitting down on the grass, more like, sitting down with the grass, and sketching. No hurry, no stress. Pure bliss. Can you tell I'm in love?

Let me just come out and say it, I suck at directions. Nope. Nope. Nope. Don't expect me to get to a certain location, especially not at night, because I will get lost and I will freak out. This is a huge problem for me in Rome. I am an old lady, and not even because the old ladies of Rome are not helpless, no sir. They are independent and extremely intelligent. Point is, last night was the first night I went out. I was supposed to find my friends at a place where we usually meet, but because it was night time there weren't many buses running and I couldn't see what stop to get down on. I was really close to the place where we were supposed to meet but when I tried to find a new route I got completely lost and ended up on the other side of the river. Don't ask me how, I just did. After that I told Francine I wasn't moving at all, I sent her my location, sat my butt down on some steps, and told her to find me. She did, cause she's amazing.

Yesterday was so much fun! We made some Italian teenage friends! Italians fumano un sacco smoke a lot! We spoke with a teenage couple and a bunch of their guy friends for about an hour and a half in the middle of the street and throughout that time the couple smoked about 4 cigarettes each. I asked her why and she said cigarettes are cheap, so they smoke them. Va bene all right. They were so much fun. They were so lively, forse maybe a little drunk, but with so much spirit. They spoke loudly, fast, english, slang, and laughed so genuinely that I couldn't help but smile. When italians talk to you, they look deep into your eyes. They give you complete eye contact and exchange words with you. That is the way of the Romans. The young man kept kissing his girlfriend. They were adorable. So in love. So young. So full of life. He said he listened to a lot of english rap and some italian rap (because according to him after a good Italian rapper goes viral he sucks). He also showed us some pictures of his graffiti. His name was Davide I think, and her name was.. I honestly don't remember, there was so much that was going on, but they were great. I hope we meet them again (they are in my snapchat!)

This morning I woke up with a bit of a headache but I pulled myself out of bed and went to church, because He has given me so much, the least I can do is visit him one day a week for an hour. Roman churches are gorgeous. The simple fact that these churches are hundreds of years old is enough to get you out of bed. During mass all I could think about was how much I had missed Him during this week. I talk to Him everyday, but it's not the same to talk to someone on the phone than it is to visit them at their home. As I looked around in the church I was struck by a terrible sadness. Everywhere I looked there were old women (which is great, they were there with such faith that I smiled with a beautiful feeling in my heart), but I was also very sad that this holy place was void of young faces. I was the only one.

My mamma invited me to go to La Piazza di San Pietro to be blessed by the pope, of course I agreed. It was beautiful. Il Papa Francesco è magnifico Pope Francis is magnificent. His faith resonates in my heart. He was but a tiny speck but his faith ignited a fire across my body. The piazza was overflowing with people, with Romans, with pilgrims, with faith, with old people, with young people, with babies, and with love. So much love.

Un bacio da me a voi.

Alla prossima!

Ti innamori con l'architettura italiana (You'll fall in love with the italian architecture)

Thursday September 10, 2015 11:47 PM

Ciao amici!

Questo sarà veloce perché devo andare a letto presto This will be quick because I must go to bed soon.

I just have a few things on my mind right now, mostly because I'm super tired, sono stanca. Also, I've had to deal with the annoying task of setting up my AT&T phone with a new SIM card. Those of you who have AT&T know my struggle. They are impossible. Anyway, it's all set now so I can finally sleep but I didn't want to go to bed before writing a few things that ran through my mind today or else I will forget all about them. Was that a run on? Probably.

First things first (I'm the realest -- I'll probably look back at this in the future and not understand a single reference. It's a song, Cecy, it's a song), the architecture. This has been a thought that has crossed me on more than one occasion since I arrived in Italy. Do you guys ever wonder why Italy looks the way it looks? Why is it one of the most photographed countries? Well, I've found myself asking these questions and I think I figured it out (maybe, secondo me in my opinion): the reason Italy casts such a spell of aesthetic over us is because it looks just as it looked years ago. You won't look around and see a skyscraper, save that for New York. That's what I love about Italy, it doesn't try to fix what isn't broken. Some may say countries that don't succumb to the ways of contemporary architecture are far behind, but I disagree. Italy is very sophisticated and quite ahead, thank you very much. It might not be the richest country in the world, but the people here are happy and love their culture, something that I can't say about other, more wealthier, countries. Back to my epiphany: I was on the bus (story of my life) when my Italian mother pointed out a beautiful cinema movie theatre to me. At first glance it did not look like a movie theatre, or at least not the kind of theatre I am accustomed to. In America everything is new, and everyone is obsessed with the new. The new, the new, the new, and in the process we often forget about the old that made us into who we are today. This Italian cinema looked, to me, like every other charming building with shuttered windows and lightly colored walls that I see in Italy. That, my friends, is what makes Italy, Italy. That is why we are enchanted by their beautiful strade streets and mesmerized by their immaculate architecture. Just so you get my point: would you photograph a street in Italy that was a mixture of the charming Italian architecture that you picture when you think of Italy and the new, straight edged contemporary architecture? Maybe, because that holds a beauty of contrast all of its own, but what Italy would you rather hold on to? At least for me, it is the old, charming, balconied, cobbled streeted Italy.

In other news, as I was at the bus stop with my Italian mamma (lol, bus stop again..), a man that spoke spanish came to ask me and my mamma for directions. He thought we both spoke Italian and we understood each other well enough, but when it came down to giving specific directions I reverted to using my spanish language. It was such an amazing moment for me, because there I was, in Rome, learning the Italian language, and helping a fellow hispanohablante spanish speaking person, with directions in a place that I dreamed of visiting. It was a piccolo small, yet very special, moment for me.

Un bacio da me a voi.

Alla prossima!

Un viaggio lungo ma una bella destinazione (A long journey but a beautiful destination)

Wednesday September 9, 2015 8:55 PM

Ciao amici Hello friends!

I have the urge to keep writing in italian but I must stop because not everyone is blessed with the beauty that is the italian language. What a wonderful problem to have! Il mio professore My professor  would be so proud!

I have so much to say, I hope I remember it all!

I arrived yesterday morning at around 11. My flight was pretty annoying, mainly because I wanted to be in Italy @now, but also because I was delayed at a layover in Chicago and the flight was super long/the food on the plane sucked. I did get an empty seat in between me and another gentleman so that was great but it wasn't enough! There were so many babies on the plane! They were definitely adorable but they cried like crazy during the entire flight, so not so adorable. I made it safely to Rome which is all that matters. The airlines always lose my baggage but they didn't this time! Awesome, so I made it out of the airport and my next task was to not get pick pocketed. I succeeded, I think. The taxi tried to trick me at the last minute by covering the meter with the sunglass department but I didn't let him (go me!)

My italian mother (who I'm living with) is so amazing! She is an amazing cook and has such a sweet soul! She reminds me so much of my grandma that lives in mexico city, same haircut and everything. The view from my room is to die for. I can see La Basilica Papale di San Pietro, which is so amazing since I am a catholic, woman of God and I am reminded of it in such a beautiful way every morning that I wake up and look out my window.

I believe I'm still in shock! There's not so much city shock because as I was riding in the taxi and as I walked the streets of Rome I was reminded of Mexico City (where I was born, lived during my early childhood, and visit every year), but there is a lot of culture shock, yessir. When I thought of Italy I thought of men and women who wore elegant clothing and drank wine 24/7. I was wrong. Although there are some who probably look elegant 24/7 and some alcoholics who drink wine all day, everyday, it is not so for everyone (just like anywhere else in the world). The majority of these people like to be comfortable like the rest of us and you will see people wearing comfortable clothing that might not be so much on the elegant side and people that don't drink wine at all (not even during meals) like my mamma italiana. So get rid of those stereotypes. Side note: there are so many motorcycles here and everyone rides them, from teenagers, grandmas, businessmen, you name it, they're probably riding a motorcycle. I also saw a tiny little smartcar/tricyle thing with three tiny wheels in which a grown man barely fit. I found it absolutely hilarious but no one else in the bus did because when I laughed no one laughed with me. Ok, mi dispiace I'm sorry. I'm gonna add, "don't laugh out loud at a grown man in a little green car" to my Don't Do/Say list.

There are so many little things like that that I saw today that are making me write this, because I want to remember every little detail of this experience that I might otherwise forget forever. Sta mattina This morning, as I was taking the bus to meet my Dartmouth group, a young father stepped onto the bus with her daughter in a stroller. I looked down at the bambina little girl, and saw something that surprised me but that shouldn't have surprised me and that I was ashamed of afterwards. I looked down and saw the little girl sleepily holding on to a black baby doll. I was surprised because the little girl was not black. So what! I am so ashamed for being surprised, but I do know why I was initially surprised. Because I never see it. Back in the states, and in many other countries, people of darker skin color are seen as less than, or not worthy of. Which is an absolute disgust. We are taught that you should stick with what you know/are, that includes buying dolls for your daughters (Which is another issue, because gender roles, and more specifically, society tell us that girls should get dolls and boys should get cars. Why are women brought up to be caregivers but men are brought up to be intellectuals, independent, and with a set of skills that women are not brought up with? Girls are given toys such as mirrors/dolls and are clothed in dresses that are not at all practical, while boys are given toys such as cars, things to do with labour, doctor kits, and are dressed in pants/practical clothing that prepares them with the foundation for skills they will need to be successful in life. Ok, done with rant. There will be more to come most likely.) Point is, I learned from that little girl, and her father or mother since they were the ones who most likely purchased the doll for her and implemented a wonderful foundation of morals (be blind to skin color and despise racism). We should all learn from them. Parents, learn from them. Implement love into your children, not hatred.

On that note, un bacio da me a voi A kiss from me to you.

Alla prossima Until next time!