Allergic to Technology

I just spent my morning typing up my latest post, only to have it eaten by WordPress gremlins just as I was about to post. The worst part is that after having searched the forums for bit, looking for answers to my problem, I discovered that this great autosave tool I had been counting on seems not to have saved anything before the moment of the disaster (perhaps because I had already clicked publish, but then had cancelled to run a spellcheck, etc.?) and my list of revisions includes only three versions: blank except for the evil photo that caused all my problems, blank, and blank with photo again. If anybody has any suggestions for me on this topic, I’d be much obliged.

If not, I’ll rewrite as soon as I overcome this trauma. I knew I should never be on the computer. Perhaps I’ll start blogging via mail. It’s be cool, right? And the postal service could definitely use the business with its recent bankruptcy.

While I’m recovering, I’ll leave you with the title of my upcoming post, open to suggestions and critiques (or compliments):

It’s Carnevale, I need a drink: my top 3 favorite Milanese bars/ winter

So what do you think? Titles are not my speciality (that would be rambling), so I really do appreciate constructive suggestions. But I’ll also take content suggestions for Milan or Santa Cruz, or really wherever else you want to send me. So, come on, what are your favorite bars/coffee shops/tea houses/beverage purveyors?

Dear Mr. President

I wrote this list in October, after attending my one and only general assembly at Occupy Santa Cruz. I am not an excellent protester. I don’t like crowds, I overcomplicate everything, and I believe in relativism and that time heals more than man ever can. However, I do believe that is important to have a political conscience and to stay informed. Politics and social issues affect everyone, and so everyone should have an informed say.

With that said, I have no intention of writing a political blog. I have enough trouble keeping myself (relatively) current and don’t feel that I am qualified (or desirous) to try to inform or impact my readers. I write this in the spirit of my thoughts listed above: that an occasional thought about what politics (both current and in general) mean to us personally and what we are really looking for is both important and necessary. I hope not to offend anybody, even if we disagree, and I welcome other perspectives. Without further ado,

What I would like:

– I would like to see our former president, George W. Bush, tried for his crimes, tried for breaking the law and the regulations of his presidenthood by declaring war without the agreement of our Congress. I would like it to be acknowledged that the president that we had for 8 years may well not be the one we elected. I would like someone, everyone, to make an effort to say that they will do their best to see that instances like that never occur again, even if it isn’t true or they can’t guarantee it, I want to hear it. I would like it acknowledged that this is not how things are supposed to go, that it’s not okay.

– I would like higher taxes. I want better services and I am willing to pay for them. We can’t afford the standard political tax cuts. And the people who should be first in line to shoulder this load should be those who can afford it- those who earn more than $250,000 a year.

– I would like to know and to choose where my tax money goes. For me, there is no use in having higher taxes if my money goes to the military. I want taxes to pay for roads (or rails, actually), schools, and healthcare, not bombs or fighter planes (or programs to visit the moon or Mars, for that matter)

– I would like a simplified tax system in which it is not necessary to hire someone to help one to pay one’s taxes. I believe that it is important to understand one’s contribution to one’s country and one’s society and if we can’t understand what we’re filling out, how are we supposed to do that?

– I would like to consider an income cut-off. That is to say, I am not convinced that it is necessary that anyone make more than $250,000 a year, and I believe that this excess money (paid as if it were a tax) could go to pay for schools and trains and healthcare instead of rotting away in a vault somewhere or wasted on $5,000 champagne. I’m not anti-capitalism, but I am against careless excess.

– I would like to be able to go to college. I would like for everyone who chooses to do so to be able to go to college. I would like teachers and administrators to be able to count on federal and state money (or one or the other, I’m not picky) so that they can design effective, well-planned out programs and not suffer new standards set in place every year that destabilize the institutions themselves and damage their possibilities to provide a good and thorough education. I would also be willing to sacrifice some of the luxuries that our universities boast in favor of passionate professors and tuition that doesn’t require taking out a second mortgage on one’s house. I would like to work towards a free or reasonably affordable (not over $1000 a semester, for example) system, perhaps looking at the model of certain European university systems (such as Denmark or even France).

– I would like for universities not to be considered the only good and noble option, but attention, emphasis, funding, and respect to be given to be given to professional training as well. Perhaps even a national or statewide system of institutions or entities that provide this service (as some community college programs and other private institutions do).

– In that same vein, I would like to see a parallel program to that which the military provides (stated simply, spend a couple of years in military service and we’ll pay for your education and help set you up) in a non-military capacity. My vision would be that of a couple of years of dedicated community service (similar to AmeriCorps), in exchange for food and shelter and later, education, etc.

– I would like to see healthcare become free, nationwide. To have a healthy population benefits everyone, and having an unhealthy population makes us all pay. The system should be simple and not require passages through 12 different agencies and 17 hoops of classification in order to qualify. Everyone needs healthcare and we all deserve the same healthcare, or at least the right the choose from the same options. I am not opposed to additional private healthcare, provided that the public version be reasonably decent and comprehensive. I would also like to concentrate on preventative healthcare, which saves us all money and unhappiness but working on the problem before it becomes a disaster.

– I would like to see Amtrak supported financially. I would like it to receive steady, annual, reasonable government support so that it can become a real alternative for more Americans. We would benefit from this, in my opinion, for a million reasons: for the earth, for our pocketbooks, for peace from oil wars. We should take public transportation seriously (local transportation, such as city buses, as well). I am not going to vote to ban cars, but I believe that people should be able to choose and at the moment we are not presented with a decent second option.

– I would like for my federal government to spend 75% of its attention on national issues, and 25% on what’s going on in the rest of the world. Of course, there are different branches and positions and roles inside the government designed to take on different parts of each of these domains, but I feel that as a whole, this country’s energy has been projected outward in the recent past, too much so. I don’t believe that we can contribute internationally without being strong and stable on the inside. It does no good to set up someone else’s government (besides the arrogant presumption and/or naiveté that such a thing entails) when our own isn’t doing so well itself.

This is what I would like from and for my country. This is my vision. I don’t think that everything is wrong here, but I do believe that there are areas of improvement. I don’t want a revolution, but I would like to be heard!

A year in fiction (and non)

Last year around the beginning of January,  I decided to start to write down all the books I read in the coming year. Partly I did this because I always forget the titles of the books I read or start reading something only to realize halfway through that I already read it (and probably didn’t love it if it was so unmemorable), and partly I was curious to see how much and what I read in a year. In this particularly tumultuous and anxious year, I discovered that I had a preference for books that were short and to the point. For example, I got about halfway into a copy from the library of Your Brain on Music by Daniel Levitin from the library but never managed to finish it. Maybe this year. Recently, I happened to see another blog in which the author had included his own book lists of the last few years. I thought this was a lovely idea, so, I’m doing my own. Here are my books from 2011, some excellent, some not so, but certainly all things that have reflected and affected my mindset in this past year. I have only included books that I have read cover to cover. Books that I read in Italian I list with their Italian titles and English in parentheses where appropriate.

1. Arrivederci Piccole Donne (So Long, Little Women) by Marcela Serrano
an excellent book, sort of a modern interpretation of Little Women (by Louisa May Alcott) set between Chile and Europe, with a lot of this wonderful Chilean author’s style thrown in.

2. Ruth St. Denis by Vito De Bernardi

biography of this fascinating grandmother of modern dance. A little dry, but very informative. This Italian publishing house (L’EPOS) has earned my respect by having a line of very reputable and necessary biographies dedicated to the great choreographers of the 20th century.

3. Fango by Niccolò Ammaniti

not one of my favorite books. In my opinion, Ammaniti’s viewpoints on life are that of the nearly suicidal/homicidal, and in fact many of his characters are. One story (fango is a collection of short stories) talks of a serial killer who uses knitting needles as the murder weapon. I recently took up knitting, and unfortunately, have trouble keeping this story out of my head as I look at my needles.

4. La Zia Marchesa by Simonetta Agnello Hornby

I purchased this book on a trip to Sicily as a part of my foray into contemporary Italian literature. It is historical fiction, set in Sicily in the second half of the 19th century as power shifted from the aristocrats, the Borbons, and the Kingdom of the Two Sicilies to the new country of Italy, and as a result, the mafia was created. Fascinating for its historical backdrop, and emotionally satisfying as the poignant tale of the fall of a particular aristocratic family.

5. Martha Graham e la Modern Dance by Chiara Vatteroni

6. Marcovaldo by Italo Calvino

Since I have moved to Santa Cruz I have found myself thinking of this book and its images of the seasons in foggy industrial era Milan through the eyes of its goofy protagonist, Marcovaldo, with nostalgia. Almost like a cartoon written by Dante.

7. Oceano mare (Ocean Sea) by Alessandro Baricco

8. Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close by Jonathan Safran Foer

Very good, and not much like anything I’ve ever read before, without being too abstract either. I felt that I knew the main character, the nine-year-old boy, Oskar probably because he reminds me of a member of my own family. I’m looking forward to seeing the film adaption.

9. Ladro contro Assassino by Giorgio Scerbanenco

I bought this book on another trip, to the town of Orvieto in Umbria, and it was truly a stroke of luck. I fell in love with the style of this 1960s era author of murder mysteries. Perhaps more than mysteries they are really more of social commentary and commentary on human nature. This novel is set partially in Orvieto, but most of Scerbanenco’s books take place in Milan and speak of things specifically Milanese.

10. Bar Sport by Stefano Benni

11. L’alchimista (The Alchemist) by Paolo Coelho

an excellent guide to life.

12. Traditori di Tutti by Giorgio Scerbanenco

13. Maisie Dobbs by Jaqueline Winspear

14. Night Flight by Antoine De Saint Exupéry

a touchingly tragic short story about mail carrier planes in South America in the early 1900s by the author of The Little Prince.

15. Julie & Julia by Julie Powell

A big part of my inspiration to start a blog, and perhaps also my blogging role model. Also just a fun story about life and transformation, and food!

16. Mapping Human History by Steve Olson

Fascinating account of our history and who we are as humans created by following the path of our genes. Surprising insights on the ideas of race and culture.

17. The Daughter of Time by Josephine Tey

18. The Dogs Who Came to Stay by George Pitcher

19. A Morbid Taste for Bones by Ellis Peters

20. Off the Beaten Path: Northern California by Mark R. Williams

Though probably intended to read more as a reference and, obviously, travel guide, I found myself wanting to devour the whole thing. In the process, I learned a lot of things about California, in particular the eastern areas, that I never knew or never considered. Now I want to explore it all!

21. The Arabian Delights Cookbook by Anne Marie Weiss-Armush

Another book that was probably intended more as a reference than for light reading, Ms. Weiss-Armush’s accounts of her story as an American bride in Syria were almost as good as the recipes! (I also learned how to make dolmas, an accomplishment that I’m very proud of, but got no success with the yogurt. I might need to spend some more time in the Middle East to perfect that one.)

22. One Corpse Too Many by Ellis Peters

23. Monk’s Hood by Ellis Peters

24. All Aboard: The Complete North American Train Travel Guide by Jim Loomis

I loved riding trains before I read this book. Now I feel that my love for trains has become politicized. Not to say that Mr. Loomis’ book is political, it’s more a loving account of anything and everything train related: from planning a cross country trip to train jargon to the (tragic) history of the train in America.

25. Mr. Popper’s Penguins by Richard and Florence Atwater

26. Le Divorce by Diane Johnson

27. My Love Affair with England by Susan Allen Toth

28. The Pianist by Wladyslaw Szpilman

I have yet to see the movie version of this book, despite the fact that I have a huge crush on Adrien Brody that I imagine would only worsen after seeing him play the piano. However, the book is incredible. It’s incredible because it’s well written, but mostly because of the relatability of the story even as the surroundings become increasingly horrific and incredible. I have read and seen many holocaust stories in my life, too many I often think, but perhaps this is the most complete, showing the progression, not just of a man but an entire city through the progressive stages of denial and finally, implosion.

29. The Group by Mary McCarthy

A gem from the 1960s. Better as an incredibly complete social commentary on 1930s era America, the characters are sometimes overshadowed and weighed down by the themes they represent. Nonetheless, some of the observations on human relationships portrayed in the dynamics between characters ring bitterly true.

30. The Piano Tuner by Daniel Mason

31. Ragtime by E.L. Doctorow

Another great novel that manages to sum up the feeling and main characters of the time it represents, this time set in New York from the turn of the century up into the late teens.

32. Frankenstein by Mary Shelley

Part of my horror trilogy (with Dracula and Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde), this was not at all what I expected. Much more about human nature than big scares, I found that it had moments of great lucidity (for example, the entire passage in the mountains), even if lost in a sometimes unnecessarily complicated and meaningless plot line.

33. The Iron Ring by Lloyd Alexander

34. Dracula by Bram Stoker

35. The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde and other stories by Robert Luis Stevenson

I was disappointed with the centerpiece of this book, feeling that the secret was revealed too soon, leaving the final part weak and unnecessary. However, I enjoyed some of the other stories, in particular the concept of the suicide club, despite another unsatisfying ending.

36. Women of the Four Winds by Elizabeth Fagg Olds

This made me want to become a woman explorer, although I’m fairly certain that I will never be as tough as the four women in this book. I was not familiar with any of these great early adventurers (Annie Smith Peck, Marguerite Harrison, Delia Akeley, Louise Arner Boyd) before reading these accounts, but afterwards felt that some gaps in my head had been filled. And I certainly know more about mountain climbing, big game hunting, Greenland, and Russian prisons. I am also thrilled to have had the opportunity to discover the existence of the Society of Women Geographers, the still-active association of female explorers in which these women took part and that is behind the creation of this book.

37. The Happy Prince and other stories by Oscar Wilde

38. Slaughterhouse Five or the Children’s Crusade by Kurt Vonnegut

an excellent, insightful surprisingly light-hearted and comedic account of very real and terrible things, viewed with philosophy. And aliens.

Zemanta

I just discovered an awesome tool that wordpress provides called Zemanta. Basically, it finds copyright-free photos that pertain to what you’ve written in your post, and lets you include them into your text. I love these features that allow the non tech-savvy of the world (like me) to play and create without spending hours tearing their hair out in front of a computer.

So, I spruced up some of my earlier posts with new photos. What do you think? Are the new photos useful or did you prefer the old simplicity?

Pina!

On that same magical note, last Sunday I made the trek up to the city with my mom to see Pina.

I first heard about Pina Bausch while I was studying dance in Milan last year. I kept hearing the term Tanztheater, tanztheater, but didn’t really know what it was all about. I’m not sure why I bought the tickets for the show, maybe we had seen something I liked in dance history, maybe I just trust the Strehler theater (one of my favorite theaters anywhere). Or maybe I just kept hearing so much hype that I had to see her. In the days before the show, her company’s first appearance in Milan for many years, and the first after her death, which of course left her company in a precarious position, Milan went Pina crazy (or at least, my small world within the greater world of Milan did). I saw bits and pieces of many of her works and documentaries about her at the Cinema Gnomo (great independent movie theater, via lanzone, 30, behind the church of sant’ambrogio) and by the time the show arrived, I was psyched. Then of course, we were late.

Somehow, I had convinced myself, throughout all of my incredibly thorough preparations, that the show started at 16:30. I had bought the tickets months in advance, and I made sure that we left the house in ample time to get to the theater. We got there at about 4:05, and seeing that there was little crowd, decided to smoke a cigarette before going in. Sometime later, as we realized that no one was showing up, I actually checked the time and realized, that instead of being 15 minutes early, we were 15 minutes late! We rushed in and luckily they let us into the theater, but we had to sit on the floor until the intermission. I spent the first half hour kicking myself, but eventually I was so mesmerized by what was going on onstage, that I forgot to be mad at myself. The show was Vollmond (or Full Moon), and, like many of Pina’s works, it talked about people and relationships, loneliness and dependency. I think one of the things that astonishes me the most about her work is the way that using a medium like postmodern dance that is usually so abstract, often frustratingly so for me, she manages to create, not so much stories but experiences that are so vivid and universal that they seem to connect on a personal level with anyone who watches.

I thought about this as I watched Pina, the movie, in a different theater, in a different country, and in a different state of mind, but equally entranced. I first heard about the movie around the time I saw the show (convinced, among other things, that to dance for Pina Bausch was one of, if not the highest aspiration one or I could have). I had no idea who Wim Wenders was (it took me many months to figure out that he was the guy behind Buena Vista Social Club), but everyone spoke of him as if he were a rare case of someone worthy of this honor, and capable of carrying it out. I waited with eager anticipation for some sign that the movie was making progress to a theater near me, even as I changed countries myself and went through great personal transformation. Sometime this fall, I read that it would be opening in the u.s. on December 23rd. I was thrilled! Unfortunately, this was not the case and I had to suffer through hearing about it from all of my Italian friends, and then discovering that it would be released in San Francisco at just the moment when I would be on the other side of the world. But finally, 3 days after my return, I was sitting in the theater with months of anticipation behind me, as well as several different Emilys in various states of life, all waiting for the moment when the music would start.

And thankfully, it did not disappoint. However, I have to say, that in my opinion, the strength of the film lies not so much in any special about the film itself, but in the way that it showcases everything beautiful about the choreography and the characters it presents, while the film itself remains in the wings, an invisible presence. But perhaps it’s better that way.

Another thought I had while I was watching was that I think I could watch one of these choreographies once a day for the rest of my life, and not only would I never get bored, but I think I would learn a lot. Watching this incredible movement, this incredible way of showcasing ideas, makes me desire to create, and makes me open my mind to new ways of looking at things, new places to push. Not to mention the incredible observation, but also patience and amusement, at the ways humans treat themselves and each other. Watching these dancers at times feels to me like watching humanity through the eyes of a buddha, or a god. And afterward, I feel that I too should be infinitely patient and loving.

So hats off to Pina’s memory. And to anybody who hasn’t seen the movie yet, and hasn’t been convinced by my arguments, at least watch this, which surely can say more in its 1 minute and 46 seconds than I can in these 894 words.

Nisene Marks and the forests of time past.

Image via Wikipedia

Today was a wonderful Saturday. One of those days that remind me of the nice things about living here:

-family

-sun in february

-redwoods

We went hiking up in Nisene Marks, a big park in Aptos, near
Santa Cruz. It’s a funny place because it doesn’t seem like much at the entrance. There’s a big road and somewhat cute little shopping center, then you follow this little, hidden paved road until you get to the entrance of the park, about a mile or so in. And as you go, the landscape changes until you’re on this trail into a primordial world, full of ferns and redwoods and dinosaurs waiting around every bend. At a certain point we stumbled upon the trail to the advocate tree. We couldn’t figure out what it was advocating, but decided to explore anyway. And when we got there, we couldn’t help but recognize it. It was massive, and inside time or some less natural force had carved out a sort of cave or nest, protected from the outside world. We all took turns entering into the tree, and the most impressive sight I had was of my giant uncle dwarfed by this 500-year-old being. A little further along, there was one of many creek crossings, and on the other side there was a small army of sculptures, piles of stones balanced one upon the other by ghosts of Andy Goldsworthy. As we left, the sun was falling in the sky and the light was golden as we drove home.

Luggage

This is feels like an appropriate topic tonight. After 13 hours at school (I know, I didn’t know it was possible either)  I feel like I could have just gotten off a transcontinental flight. Writing is actually saving me from blindly following the Macaulay Culkin story on Yahoo.

This may not seem like a super scintillating topic, but in the past few years I’ve become more and more opinionated about luggage. First of all, I would like to talk to the genius who spread the idea that backpacks were the quick and easy way to go. I did the whole backpacking-through-Europe thing and I don’t think my shoulders will ever forgive me. Not to mention the deadly waist strap that “balances” the weight on my shoulders by permanently immobilizing my lower back. And backpacks, or at least “serious” backpacks were clearly not made with women in mind, or, more specifically, with breasts in mind! Any woman who can figure out how to make that chest strap thing work has my respect for life. All that and they look stupid. And are perfect for the bus where you can accidentally crush old ladies and get pickpocketed all at the same time.

With that said, I actually do use a backpack quite often, mainly because it’s the only thing I own, but I would love to replace it with a weekend bag. A couple of years ago, on the train into Paris from CDG, I saw a girl with the most elegant, perfect weekend bag I have ever seen. Unfortunately, I didn’t have the foresight to photograph it, but the image in my head will from now on be the standard by which all other bags are measured (something like this, more or less). As a substitute, I happened to stop by the leather school in florence while we were there, and while a lot of their stuff is not for me, the luggage was pretty killer. And by killer, I mean buttery soft with all kinds of caramel, mahogany tones. Yum. But, looks aside, duffel bags, even beautiful leather ones, are great for weekends and trips with few stops, but not that awesome to haul around for long periods of time, unless you like your back lopsided. Which brings me to my point: wheeled luggage.

Wheelies, rollies, trolleys- not so sexy. For me it conjures up images of old chinese (or italian, for that matter) women bringing home their groceries in those horrible plastic sacks on wheels. I respect the women, but not the accessory. Not to mention the annoyance and wrist-breaking pain of a flimsy suitcase that turns on its side every time it hits a bump (after witnessing a particularly violent disagreement between me and one of these suitcases, my mother has limited her luggage lending). But I think it was George Clooney who convinced me. Actually, it took some convincing just to get me to watch George Clooney (smarmy), but I was pleasantly surprised by the film, and my prospective on wheels was changed for life. Somehow, instead of seeing stodgy, touristware, I started seeing sleek, convenient, and most importantly- no weight on my shoulders! Ok, so I probably wouldn’t want to take one bumming around the bumpy roads of Mexico with me, but on the slick floors of an airport and in and out of the baggage claim (another reason I’m not a fan of backpacks: I’ve had mine lost several times because the straps make it considered unwieldy, and therefore it gets isolated and left behind in the rush. The only way to remedy is to plastic wrap it, something I’d like to avoid if possible.) they can’t be beat.

For the moment, I’m contemplating a hard shell style (protection!) like this one, but I’m figuring it’s an art that will take me another 10 years or so to master. Right around when I finally figure out this frequent flyer nonsense.

Florence and the Uffizi

Florence Roofs (Photo credit: plemeljr)

While I was in Italy, f. and I decided to take a trip down to Florence for a few days. To get away from the hustle bustle of Milan and into warmer climes. Well, we succeeded on the first count, but not so much on the second. First of all, the freakishly warm winter temperatures that we had been experiencing in Milan were at an end, and the cold that came in hit Florence almost as hard. Second, we discovered that the Florentines don’t seem to be big fans of indoor heating! Well, perhaps it’s a bit categorical of me to imply that all indoor spaces are cold, but the first few days everywhere we went, from our bed & breakfast, to restaurants, and even the movie theater, was freezing!

On a happier note, as we were trying to escape the cold, we stumbled upon a couple of perhaps not-so-hidden treasures.

The first is a place that I was introduced to by an American violin-maker I encountered by happy coincidence on my first trip to Florence in 2009. It’s called La Cité and it’s in the Oltrarno district (specifically, at number 20 borgo san frediano) and is basically the kind of place that I’ve always wanted to have just down the street. It’s a sort of combination bar/café/bookstore/hangout perfect for having an aperitivo with friends (on Fridays they have an Ethiopian aperitivo with both vegetarian and meat versions. I personally vouch for the quality of the veg. version and the originality of the idea), studying (as some of our neighbors were), listening to live music, or just chilling with an herbal tea and one of their many, awesome books (the only catch being that you have to be able to read in italian). I briefly considered moving to Florence just to be near this place.

The second, just down the street at number 11, via santo spirito (don’t be confused by the name change, it’s the same street, just further towards ponte vecchio), is a slightly more upscale and trendy (La Cité has a bit of a centro sociale feel to it) but still reasonably priced restaurant called Il Santo Bevitore, or “the holy drinker”, with a yummy-looking wine bar next door (Il Santino). I say trendy because when we showed up at 9:00 on a Thursday night, the entire place (an enormous, cavernous room with small offshoots for more intimate dinners for 2 or 12 people) was packed and since we didn’t have a reservation, it took us until 10:30 to get seated. However, I found it hard to hold this against them because as we waited, we were served free prosecco and slices of pecorino by an apologetic and very courteous staff. As for the food, I may have had my senses slightly dulled by wine and hunger, but nonetheless, I think it’s safe to say that it was some of the best of the trip.

Image via Wikipedia

And last, but certainly not least of my favorite stops of this trip were the Uffizi, one of Florence’s (if not the world’s) most famous museums of renaissance era art. Now, I do not love renaissance art and won’t pretend to be an expert, or even remotely educated about it. To the horror of my Italian friends, for me, art history has always started around the time of Monet and the stuff that came before that is just a blur of Madonna with child and gold-covered altars (medieval era) and a bunch of dark paintings and marble statues. However, I admit to having been thoroughly awed by some of these dark paintings. In particular, the not-so-dark Botticelli’s la primavera and the birth of venus, were, of course beautiful. I also really enjoyed a series of paintings of young women portraying the 7 cardinal and theological virtues (see Temperance at right), done by Botticelli and Piero del Pollaiolo. F. and I agreed that several of them looked very similar to their respective tarot cards, and I would have liked to know more about the symbolism. In fact, this ties in to my big complaint that all of the museum plaques described the various years of creation/ownership, etc., but said little or nothing about the subject. I suppose that’s why audio guides exist, but on the rare occasion that I do use them, they seem to stop working just as I get to the only thing I was actually interested in. But I digress. My very favorite things about the Uffizi, are the following, in no particular order:

1. the view over the Arno in the big, windowed corridor between wings. I spent at least 1/2 hour watching the tragi-comedy of an ambulance trying to bring a stretcher through the medieval streets to an apartment just below where I was watching. I permit myself to say comedy, because in the time that I was watching, nobody appeared who seemed to be in any kind of grave condition appeared and the whole thing had a very relaxed, formulaic feel to it.

2. the bar/café. I am beginning to fear that I might be the kind of person whose favorite part of museums is their bar, but in this case I feel myself justified. Certainly not because of the quality of the food (although to be fair, I only ordered a hot chocolate), or the fairness of the prices, but more because of the place itself. At the end of one wing on the top floor, the bar has two levels, and it was at the uppermost of these where I was seated. The whole place is full of windows that look out on the rooftops of the surrounding buildings, onto the terrace, and out to the panorama of Florence itself. And the whole thing, at least on the day in which I was present, has an incredible luminous quality, created by the windows contrasting against the stark white of the walls and tables. I think I would like to live here, if they would just let me move a bed in.

3. This actually pertains to art, I promise. On the lower level of the museum (which has always had the majority of its works on the top floor, but is now in construction so this may change soon) there are a series of three small rooms with works by Caravaggio and similar artists (imitators, I assume). The works by Caravaggio are striking, but what really impressed me were the works of an artist called Gherardo delle Notti or Gerrit van Honthorst. In particular I was struck by this painting. The way the light draws attention to the face of this one girl, who seems to be attracting the attention of the men seated next to her as well, is so beautiful and delicate, and the whole scene, apart from the clothes, seems so relatable and relevant today. I can imagine the personalities and the attitudes of each of these characters, so to speak, and imagine this scene re-enacting itself as a dinner with friends in my own home. And that, in my ignorant opinion, is magic.

Hello world!

I recently got back from one of many trips between Italy (Milan, specifically) and California (Santa Cruz) and decided to realize something that’s been germinating in me for a while: I wanted to write a blog.

I think the idea started pushing at me when I first read Julie & Julia, the book version of a blogger’s adventures and misadventures in the world of Julia Child and french cuisine. Then, I found out that a couple of people I’m honored to know had started their own version (http://pellegrinidiartusi.blogspot.com/), traveling back in time to cook their way through a classic of italian cuisine: The Art of Eating Well by Pellegrino Artusi.

I thought, if they can do it so can I! Well, actually, first I thought, wow, that’s impressive, I’m not sure I could eat that much eel. But then, after discovering that I was constantly stumbling upon new and interesting blogs- about cooking, about knitting, about travelling, and just about everything I love- and that with my return home to California after three years abroad I was in need of some new creative outlet, I started seriously considering the idea. But it took some prodding from my favorite pushy, writer boyfriend (who shall hereby be known as f.) and yet another European adventure full of things that I would have loved to talk about but couldn’t quite fit into the space after “So, how was your trip?” to finally get me here. But here I am!

And now, Florence and the Uffizi, wheeled suitcases, and Pina Bausch!