some overdue pictures

The fabled fruit roll-up!
*********************************************



The view from the window of our apartment in Novafeltria. A foggy morning
********************************************




I took this picture in Cesenatico, alongside a canal that was designed by Leonardo Da Vinci.
******************************************

The ceiling of the Church of the Gesu. Wow.

Buying scores, moving forward

My next operatic adventure (excluding getting my aria package together) begins in about a month, when we go into rehearsals for Gianni Schicchi. I figured yesterday was as good a time as any to buy the score, so I went up to the local classical music store to pick it up.

One of my many slightly irksome hangups is my support of small businesses, which is why I try to shop locally rather than buy online whenever I can. I’m not always great about it, especially in the winter when I am very busy, but I had no excuse yesterday. I have always loved having places where I can browse music in my hands, not online, and I would be really heartbroken to lose one of the few places you can still do that (excluding libraries, of course!) Even though it usually costs a little bit more, I figure I am lucky to be in a position where I can spare a few extra bucks to support a small music store.

Well, it was MORE THAN A FEW EXTRA BUCKS!! It would have been more than $10 cheaper to buy the score online. Much like I finally had to sacrifice my scruples when the price of socially conscious eggs went through the roof, the day may come soon when I give up on buying scores locally.

After earning a few more bonus points on my Capital One card than I intended to at the music store, I had a voice lesson. In retrospect I was a little nervous that I wouldn’t be able to transfer the progress I had made in Italy into my “real life”. But I explained to my teacher what I had worked on, and she was able to pick up where I had left off in Italy and move forward with my new skills right away. We also chatted plenty, talking about auditions and programs and long-term plans. It was great.

Speaking of getting back to the real world, I also got caught up with the leadership team of BOC later in the evening. Lots of good stuff in the works – stay tuned!

On the first day of summer vacation I got up

I am not sure why my family has always found that expression so funny. Probably for the same reason that when we see someone standing around we shout “What are you posing for, animal crackers!?!?” and then laugh like crazies. Regardless, today feels like the first day of my summer vacation, and I love the feeling.

In addition to seeing Magic Flute three times this weekend (the opera became more impressive every time I saw it – Bravi tutti!), I went to a wedding on Saturday afternoon at Holy Cross. Right around the time of our first “and also with you” I realized that I hadn’t been at mass in my native language in six weeks. I know the responses in Italian (my favorite is during the preface: When in English we say “It is right to give God thanks and praise” the Italian response is “è una cosa buona and giusta” – it’s a good and just thing.), and I can follow the homilies, but I always end up participating as an observer, if that’s possible. One of the dangers of being a student of the liturgy is that sometimes I get all anthropologist during mass.

But this wedding liturgy was really beautiful (they had an opening hymn after the procession – NICE), and the organist out at HoCro is one of the best organists around, so the music was really good. At the reception I maintained my reputation as a crazy dancer. Someone came up to me to ask me something, and introduced themselves by saying “You’re a dancing fool…I like that”.

Yesterday I sang three masses at my Southie churches, which was my first time singing in English or in my middle voice in about six weeks. My hours and hours of practicing, working on legato and forward resonance and pure vowels and floating high Cs, didn’t get me very far at 9:10 in the morning when I was amplified trying not to crack while chanting the psalms. I know people say all vocal production is the same but…they’re wrong.

My weekend was pretty busy, and I am enjoying the fact that Monday morning is my time to relax. I will read yesterday’s paper, go to the Southie farmers’ market (not as gross as it sounds - it's not like the food is grown here), write some thank-you notes, go running, maybe even go down to the beach for a little while. I also need to clean my apartment, which I managed to keep tidy during the unpacking process but which has since been totally trashed. Here’s hoping my vacuum doesn’t blow up.

BOC's Magic Flute

The jet lag is subsiding, I am saying “Ciao” less frequently, and I am starting to remember where things are kept in my apartment. In short, I’m adjusting. I am also discovering that it’s a good thing that I decided to keep blogging after the trip, because apparently I have a wide readership among people who hate their jobs. Temps: This blog’s for you!

Last night I saw BOC’s Magic Flute. Although I wouldn’t trade my Italian adventure for anything, it was really hard for me to be away from BOC while they were putting up this production (not because they can’t go on without their President, but because I really do love these people and I love what we do together). I am so proud of the leadership team and the staff who put this production together, and I don’t mind admitting that I got pretty emotional during the production. We had two new directors working with us: Josiah George, whose staging managed to be both innovative and beautiful (which can be a tall order!) and Michael Sakir, who pulled together an amazing orchestra and led both them and the cast with great skill.

Those of you who are local should think about going out to Boston Latin School for either (or both!) of the last two performances: Saturday at 7:30 and Sunday at 3:00. As an added bonus, you will get to hear me make a curtain speech, which is one of my greatest pleasures of being President.

www.bostonoperacollaborative.org

Home sweet home

Today I ate fast food for lunch while driving, so I am officially 100% American again.

For those of you who have graciously added this to your "favorites", I have decided to keep posting. Even though this was initially started as a travel blog, and most of the travel I am doing now is between my apartment and Dunkin' Donuts, I like having a way to keep people up to date on my different gigs &c. While most of the things in my life stay the same, there is usually a lot of news on the musical front, and this is a good place to share that with everyone.

The flight back from Rome was as uneventful as a 9.5 hour flight can be. There was a baby in front of me who made a lot of noise, and a very quiet woman next to me whose only noise was the sighs of annoyance she made at the baby. Rather than making sighs of annoyance, I made faces at little amico mio, demonstrating once again my affinity for any human who, like myself, has not yet learned that you shouldn't shout in public.

It was very odd for me, as I stepped off the plane in Newark, to stop speaking Italian. In Fiumicino and on the plane I continued to use Italian as a courtesy, even though all the Alitalia staff is fine speaking English. When I finally abandoned ciao and grazie while going through customs, it was a shock.

More of a shock was at the baggage claim in Newark, when the officer came by with the dog to sniff all of our bags. She walked through shouting "Please put all your bags on the floor!" (her shouts were not nearly as charming as the baby's). Some non-English speakers didn't do so, and because they were so intent on looking for their bags they didn't notice that the rest of us were, either. So what does an American do when confronted with a non-English speaker? Go up to their ear and shout in their face until they understand. Charming.

Mom and the Lil' Bro picked me up in Boston, and after dropping off my bags we went immediately to Salsa's for Mexican food. Five weeks without guacamole is a long time.
*********************
I had been in the air about 4 hours when I started to do the requisite soul-searching about my trip. Needless to say I learned a lot musically, but what struck me the most was how much I had managed to pull off. I almost didn't go on this trip at all because of my tendency to make myself into an anxious basket case. The months leading up to my departure were one angst ridden question after another. How will I pay for this? How can I be away for five weeks? Who will water my plants?

A few of my friends on this trip commented on how traveling in a foreign country can make you feel like you can pull off anything, and I certainly felt that way as I touched down at Logan on Monday evening. I was proud of myself for getting there and back, and for sacrificing routine in order to so something out of the ordinary. I was ready for a stress-free rest of the summer, which is why it was ironic to find a for-sale sign out in front of my apartment when I got home. But what would my life be without something to keep me awake and worrying at night?

Taken at the airport

Look who came with Mom to meet me!

One day in Rome

I finally made good on my anti-social threats and spent today on my own. I left the hotel around ten, thinking that would give me plenty of time to make it to St Ignatius' Rooms at the Gesu in the 10-12 window during which they were open. It was a beautiful, quiet morning and I made it to the church by 10:35.

I found the entry to the Collegium and it was locked, so I went in and asked one of the older priests who was hearing confessions how I could see the rooms. He told me just to go back to that door and call for the porter. I went back and started ringing the bell (and pounding on the door). A few other people with the same objective joined me, and we leaned on all the buzzers for a while.

On this trip I finally got around to reading My Life with the Saints, by James Martin, SJ. I highly recommend the book to everyone. In it he tells a charming, against-all-odds story of being able to visit to the Camere di Sant'Ignazio. My story does not have a similar ending. No one ever answered the door, so I went in to mass. Unlike the church in Novafeltria, Gesu is not an overamplified echo chamber, so I was able to both hear and understand the priests and the readers. The music was nothing to write home about - the organ sounded great, but the organist's voice was weak and the music was hard to follow (with the exception of a closing Salve Regina which I sang with gusto!) The priest gave a typical Jesuit homily (lots of pace and giustizia).

After mass I took plenty of pictures. There were a few posters I thought of buying for my classroom, but I don't have any way of getting them back to Boston undamaged. I may be able to enlarge some of my pictures to decorate.

I then set out for St Peter's around noon. It's a bit of a walk, but the city seemed to still be waking up and it was fairly quiet. I arrived at Vatican City around 12:40, covered my shoulders and made my way through security. The last time I was at St Peter's was just two years ago, so I didn't really need to meander and see everything. I just had a few favorites to visit. I was walking so purposefully that I know I busted into a lot of people's pictures as I made my way to the Pieta, Blessed John XXIII, and the St Margaret Mary painting.

The noon mass was ending just as I got there, so I listened to the closing song. It's official: I heard no good church music in Italy. If you go onto youtube you can hear the Pontifical Choir singing at Pope John XXIIIs coronation mass (you can also hear him intoning the mass parts in a horrendous voice - don't ask me why I know these things). They sound about the same today.

I looked around for the plaque with the names of all the bishop's who were at Vatican II, only because I asked a question on a quiz this spring about that plaque and I thought it would be nice to come back with a picture of it. I didn't find it, but I did find a plaque commemorating the rescinding of the mutual excommunications between the Patriarch of Constantinople and the Bishop of Rome. Don't worry, all of you who have been dying to see that: your favorite ecclesiology geek got a picture!

Around the side of the building there are some flowers that I have a picture of in my kitchen. Apparently February is more flower friendly in Vatican City, because those same flowers that I snapped two years ago looked terrible today. Those flowers are on the walk down to the crypt. I always find the bad behavior in the crypt to be more horrifying than in the basilica. I said a little hello to Paul VI, then to John Paul II, which is always a hotspot down there. What I found really interesting was that people were pushing each other down to get to JPIIs grave, but no one was giving St Peter the time of day.

Because it was Sunday the Vatican bookstore was closed, but I found another religious bookstore where I browsed the theology texts for a bit. They also had a children's section in which I found a set of five Piccolo Francesco puzzles. They had little flying monks in all the pictures who seemed to be St Francis. He was cartoony and adorable, which from a hagiographic perspective I know I should oppose, but man, was it cute. The last of the puzzles was titled "Pace e Bene" and in it Francesco was holding up a sign that read "Peace and Good".

I did not purchase the puzzles, nor did I purchase an english language copy of Spe Salvi (since I got the last encyclical the last time I was at the Vatican, I thought I would pick up this more recent one). Unfortunately they only had it in Polish, Italian and Spanish. I went into another store to buy a Vatican flag from Room 102. I couldn't remember the word for flag, so I pointed to a small one and asked if she had one much bigger. She gave me a smile that I am sure she usually reserves for crazy people and got out a big flag. I got a little embarassed and tried to explain I was getting it for my classroom, and she replied with the Italian equivalent of "that's nice".

I walked along the river for a bit and realized it was time for lunch...so I bought gelato. I walked all the way to the Ponte Margherita and then went to the Piazza del Popolo and down Via del Corso to check out the shopping situation. By the time I made it back to Termini I had been out about 6 hours, my feet were killing me and my shoulders were a little burned. Despite the exhaustion I was thrilled with my adventure. My roommates (hotelmates? Rome-mates?) are out seeing the ruins now, and we will enjoy a delicious dinner tonight before I leave tomorrow early in the morning.

Greetings from Roma!

We are settled into a very small hotel room in Rome after a long bus ride down the mountain this morning.

Yesterday we all went to San Marino. That bus ride was probably the worst I have had on the trip, and I was pretty motion sick by the time we got off the bus at the top of the mountain. We had a wonderful tour guide who showed us around and then took us to the Palazzo. Once there we were greeted by some local MinstersofSomething and all sat in Parliament's chambers. I have to say, that may have been cooler than the field trip we went on to the State House this year. They also had a nice brunch for us at a beautiful restaurant, and we spent the rest of the afternoon window shopping.

One of my lovely roommates is letting me use her laptop right now, and it is quite a relief to be typing on an American keyboard again. I make far fewer mistakes!

Seen in Novafeltria

I have meant to write about this since we got here: There is a small profumeria on the same street as the school, which is run by a wonderful woman who lives on the same street on which I live here. Out front there is a sign in English meant to entice the young singers to come inside. It reads "Want to look like Pavarotti or Callas?" The answer is decidedly no.

Tonight the covers sing Act III of Bohème, which of course has transformed me into a nervous wreck. I am glad to have had Così last night and then this, because I wasn't sure I'd be singing much at all this last week.

Tomorrow we go to San Marino and then have the last Bohème in town during the evening. The next morning we leave early for Rome. I spend two nights in Rome, and I already warned all my hotelmates that I am going to be all churchy. I am not sure how much time I will spend in the Vatican since I will be there on a Sunday. I have never been to the Gesù, and definitely plan to get my Ignatian on this weekend. Monday morning I fly home! The end is near...

Not much to report today

Bohème is out of town tonight, but I stayed behind because one of our scenes is going up before the one-act. It's like a ghost town when Bohème is gone.

I got started on scrubbing the kitchen today, since landlords are checking the apartments tomorrow morning. Here's hoping we don't destroy it again between now and Saturday.

Language Barrier

I was thrilled to find a copy of the International Times lying around today, since I have been remiss in keeping up with the news since I have been away. I was less than thrilled to find that Anheuser Busch has been sold! It's going to take me some time to deal with that.

Our landlady came up yesterday when I was just getting out of the shower. Because the hill we are on is so steep, she and her husband offered to help us with our luggage again on our way out town. I was tired after a day in Rimini, but was managing to communicate pretty well. She keps saying some phrase that I couldn't make out, so I had to ask her to say it slowly a bunch of times, each time trying to make out which pronouns were direct or indirect, who the was the subject of the verb, etc.

Each time she would repeat the sentence she would say the beginning and the end very slowly and then fly through the half dozen words that were tripping me up. She called down to her son, Matteo, who takes English in school. He came bounding up the stairs in his underwear, which made me feel better about having answered the door in my bathrobe. She explained to him what she wanted to say, and he turned to me and said "What time do you leave?" For heaven's sake, I thought to myself, since I was pretty sure I'd already answered that question. Ultimately we worked it out, without young Matteo's help.

The other majore language issue I keep having is that apparently I never learned numbers. I am absolutely moronic when I try to say them, to the point that I mix up 6 (sei) and seven (sette). The result has been that I, who vowed never to lie about my age, keep accidentally telling people that I am a year younger than I am.

Sometimes I am really astonished that I managed to learn another language at all. I think I'll learn Italian I thought to myself around age 17. I approached it with the same "Let's see what happens" attitude with which I thought I think I'll play bass clarinet! (age 10) and I think I'll run for PR Chair of BOC! (age 25). The fact that I have been here four times in attempts to speak better is all the more amazing when you consider that I spend almost every waking moment trying not to be wrong. So to come here knowing that I am going to frequently sound like a dummy, and that people are going to ask me questions that I can't answer, is particularly shocking, considering that I love to be right.

Yesterday we took the bus to Rimini mid-day. We wandered to the beach and laid out. We had been there about an hour when the wind picked up. The message came over the loudspeaker in six languages "Please close all umbrellas!" and we were caught in a sandstorm. Katrina and I decided to take advantage of the choppy water to play in the waves. At one point I was about to get hit in the face with a wave and I let out one of my weird little shouts. Katrina was beside herself laughin, saying I sounded like a Muppet. What surprises me is that in the four weeks we have been here that's the first time she's heard me make a crazy noise.

WARNING: This is going to be one of those "today I woke up. then i walked across the room" posts.

Apparently the crazy dogs who scream at me on the corner are skinny enough to get through their gate. This is not as frightening as you might think, because usually I come around the corner, find them outside the gate, and they run back through the slats and behind the fence before they start barking. You don't scare me!

I just got off the phone with my lovely mother, who offered to come pick me up at the airport in Boston. I had thought of asking her to pick me up, but then didn't want to be a burden, and then thought 'if I ask her via the blog then she can't say no!' but then felt guilty about trying to guilt her into it. Lost in my emotional maelstrom I never got around to arranging someone to pick me up. I'm relieved that I not only will see my mom a week from tomorrow, but that I can save money on a cab.

Speaking of maelstroms, we were awakened this morning by wind whipping through the odd air-tunnell that our apartment becomes in gusty weather. Everything in the kitchen was knocked on the floor, and from the bedroom window I could see that the shower curtain was about to get sucked out the bathroom window. It broke my heart to shut the apartment up but it was terribly noisy and I was terribly tired. I should have guessed that those winds were blowing in a monstrous thunderstorm, but was still surprised when the crazy thunder started after lunch and it poured for a half an hour.

A big day in Novafeltria

Yesterday may be remembered forever in the history of Novafeltria. The big news around town was that Peanut Butter Ice Cream is now among us. The savvy proprieter of the gelateria is now offering nocciola americana, replete with little American flags in it.

Two evenings ago I went to Bellaria to do a scene and an aria before the one-act. The Italian director of our host school drove us out to the venue. At the sacred music concert I had heard him speak about Gregorian chant, and also heard the Italian language version of "Vatican II destroyed church music" (a sentiment with which I do not really agree, but about which I can speak with confidence. So I summoned all my courage and my knowledge of anachronistic liturgical Italian to raise the subject with him in the car. He repeated his assertion that canto Gregoriano is the foundation of all lyrical singing, and then proposed that Victimae Paschali Laudes provides the tonal underpinning of rock & roll. The latter raised a few eyebrows, but I am going to look into it.

So I mentioned that I teach some chant to my choir and that I teach about it in my class. He was thrilled, until he found out that we lots of it in English. Then he almost drove of the road. I cursed myself for not having translated "full, active and conscious particpation" before I started the conversation. I think I explained my rationale, and told him that we do sing Latin on concerts occasionally.

We arrived at the venue an hour before curtain. Bellaria is your quintissential beach town, with an unself-conscious tackiness and streets full of families having fun. We were singing in a jazz club, with little houses painted on the walls and stairs leading up to the balcony. When we finally determined what order all the pieces would be in, the director asked me "Is there any reason you can't sing Chi il bel sogno while you walk down from the balcony?"

I could come up with a number of reasons, as a matter of fact, and they would sound like an early verse of 12 days of Christmas: FOUR timesIfellonthesidewalkthiswinter, THREE scabsonmyknees, TWO fancysandals, and a history of falling on the stairs!

But I did it. Up the stairs, down the stairs in the fruit roll-up dress. After we sang arias there was no way for us to get backstage during the one act, so we stayed in gowns as we sipped cocktails and ate gelato on the streets of Bellaria.

This morning I took the Italian test. During the oral component, I was asked to tell them something about my childhood, and the only think I could think of was that we used to go to car shows all the time. What's wrong with me?

We hiked up to Talamello this afternoon in the blazing heat. It was worth it. Talamello is a cute little town on a hill with a church from the 13th century. What I liked most about the church was that despite being an ancient structure it was clearly a modern parish, with a junky little electric organ in the front of the church and cheap looking plastic kneelers.

Much like watching someone skydive with a faulty parachute, observing the dollar's free-fall has been an oddly thrilling and awe-inspiring experience (although with significantly less schadenfreude). I took 100€ out of the Bancomat today, and don't even want to think about how many USD that was.

Once again I napped today, a habit which will not serve me well when my sleep schedule is even more off than usual upon my return. I have a voice lesson in a few minutes and then go to Bellaria to sing a scene and an aria before the one-act.

Since I'm giving endorsements this week, visit www.thousandhillscoffee.com to read the news about Sam Adams new stout made using Thousand Hills Coffee!

Today I handled change poorly.

That subject line could apply to most days, but today it does so more than usual. Nothing severe, just some mucking around with the schedule to which I reacted whinily.

I took my chances that the schedule would stay the same between 3-5, and went home to take a nap. Since I am still groggy, the nap has not made me into a nice person, but I hoping that as I wake up it's palliative effects will manifest themselves.

In lieu of a long post today I have to use my internet time to get caught up on BOC stuff. For those of you in Boston, go to www.bostonoperacollaborative.org and get your tickets to Magic Flute!

Who's got two thumbs, and stayed out too late last night?

After Bohème last night we gathered for our customary libation at Caffé Grand Italia, and I...lost track of time a little bit. I still went running this morning, but missed the first half of Italian class. This after my bragging in the previous post about what a good student I am.

I just took a nap at Katrina's apartment, and am still just a hair under tempo. I sing on a concert tonight, and it could get ugly.

Venite a me tutti voi...

Yesterday morning I arrived at mass early. They usually print very few copies of the prayers and readings for the day, and I worry that if I get there late I won't have a copy. It was almost 10 and the church was filling up, when from outside I heard the sound of drums. A marching band was approaching! Yesterday was a special event for some sort of group (it seemed like a labor organization or workers' guild), and the festivities began with the band accompanying some dignitaries to the church. I wasn't able to figure out who the muckymucks were, but their red white and green sashes made them look important. I assume the event was meant to complement yesterday's Gospel (Come to me all who labor and are heavy burdened...). The parish had tried to step-up the music, with guitar and choir instead of the one woman who screams a cappella, but the music was actually worse than usual. (Is this an appropriate place for a Liturgy Arts Group shout-out, Mike? There it is!)

After church I had a lazy afternoon, which is a rare occasion both in Europe and in the United States. After doing the same today, this Italian custom of taking a riposa in the afternoon is starting to grow on me.

I needed the rest today because we got in from opening night of Bohème at about 2 am. We opened in Santarcangelo, a gorgeous small town close to the sea. Santarcangelo is a little more developed than Novafeltria, a little more wealthy, and self-consciously pretty. Someone clearly put some effort into making it look beautiful, and it seems tourist-friendly. The venue was supposedly air conditioned, but I was remined of my summers at the Macaroni Grill, when the AC was on full blast and we still has sweat running down our legs.

I watched the show from the house with Katrina, and we had a long time to wait between the house opening and curtain. She read, and I wrote, and afterward I decided to strike up a conversation with the person next to me.

We three chatted in Italian for a while: about Santarcangelo, opera, our program of study, and especially about i giovani (the young people). Apparently Katrina and I are the exception to the rule when it comes to giovani, because we like opera, we don't dress in all black, we are happy, and we don't have un sacco dei problemi (yeah right, Mister. I've got way more than a sacco). He was deeply pessimistic about "kids these days".

He then encroached on my personal space and spent most of Act 4 shifting his attention between my face and my lap. Because I don't know how to say "Sorry I don't date guys with dentures" in Italian, I busted out of there after bows.

When the cast came on at the top of the show I got a little verklempt. This has been a very intense process, and even though I haven't sung a note at rehearsals, I have been present as the whole thing came together. I was really proud of my new friends and (no surprise!) became very emotional.

This morning was tough but I was determined to go to class. I was a little late and was only the second one there. Lots of folks have quit going to class, but I figure with just one week left I should just soldier on (or keep muddling through, as mom would say. Hi Mom!) When I had finished an in-class assignment I pulled out my notebook and began writing this post. My teacher teased me for writing in English and not in Italian. Even when I explained what I was writing, and that my audience doesn't read Italian, she persisted. So who knows? Felice Mi Fa: Edizione Italiana may soon be coming to an internet near you!

When I told people about his trip, many predicted that I wouldn't return to the US. I knew this, of course, to be nonsense, because I'm a hopeless homebody who loves to be near her family and who loves where she lives. In short, I love that dirty water (awwwww Boston you're my home! - don't worry Mom, CT is my home too, but there is no song for that)

Yet, I think I have found the thing that could keep me here. It's not a man, it's not a job, it's...STRACIATELLA YOGURT. Wouldn't you eat yogurt all the time if it had chocolate chips in it? I grabbed some this morning at the market. I bought a fair amount today because tomorrow (Sunday) everything will be closed up for the day, and I certainly don't want to go hungry.

Rumor has it that the guys at Advance are keeping up with the blog. Here's your shout-out!! Keep on molding!

Last night at the end of the Studio Artists concert we all sang the National Anthem. That we, 60 opera singers, sang it loudly should go without saying. Everyone put their hand over their heart even though there was no flag, and we didn't sing our host country's national anthem after ours (isn't that a rule?)

Opera scenes go up tonight, think of me!

America! KATOOSH!

For those of you not in on the joke "Katoosh" is the sound our rifles make when we fire them into the air in patriotic fervor, but like many jokes that need to be explained, its probably better left alone.

It is as much the 4th of July in Italy as it is the United States, as far as I can tell. I am encouragine everyone to eat red white and blue gelato, and hope to lead a "Proud to be an American" sing-along on the Piazza later this evening.

Still dress-rehearsing Bohème. It was hot in the theater today, so I went home for a shower and a costume change of my own at lunchtime. Tomorrow our scenes go up, I will have staging for those today.

Last night I stayed up too late and planned to sleep in a bit, to rise just before Italian class. Yet, like a good teacher, I woke up at 6 am. Sad.

Sorry that this is turning into one of those 'today i got up. then i ate a ham sandwich. then i looked out the window' sort of blogs. Hopefully I will have something exciting to report soon. Enjoy the holiday!

I had high hopes for posting yesterday, but an afternoon thunderstorm wiped out the internet. It's that kind of town.

There were only two of us in Italian class this morning, which means we got a whole lot of individual attention. We explained the health care system at great length.

Both of the operas have begun dress rehearsals, which means the orchestra is in town. Puccini makes so much more sense with orchestra. I have discovered that watching someone play the triangle with great intensity is an intercontinental pleasure. It thrills me every time.

I ran both yesterday morning and today, and did stairs both times. What this means is that when it comes time to curtsy in the concert tonight my legs will buckle and I will fall. Stay tuned.

In the morning when I rise, in the morning when I rise...

Today marks 2-years since I moved into my apartment in Boston, and boy, do I miss it right now. After 2 years of not having a roommate, sharing space again on this trip has been hard. I'm sure my current roommate thinks me horribly rude for going hours at a time without speaking, but it's just what I'm used to. I had a student once ask me if I ever talked to myself in my apt. because I was alone. The answer is no (but I do occasionally talk to myself because I am nuts).

Today was the first morning that I really wasn't into getting out of bed. I skipped my run, which was OK because my socks were still wet from washing them (speaking of socks, I packed five for this trip. Not five pair...five socks). After my shower I made caffé latte - a double today, which I may comet o regret. I ate some mixed fruit that our landlady had brought to us from her father-in-law's garden, along with a biscuit smeared with Nutella. Much like Bud Light tastes better in St. Louis, Nutella tastes better in Europe.

I loaded all of our plastic bottles into grocery bags so that I could take them to the recycling bins in Piazza Kennedy. With my courderoy bag, two huge bags of bottles, and a full water bottle for the day, I set out.

We are on the top floor at the bottom of 3 flights of slippery and oddly sweet-smelling stairs. Each day I use the buzzer to get out the door,a nd then walk accross the front drive to let myself out of the gate. We live on a very steep portion of the street, so those first few moments of walking can be treacherous. At the first corner is "the dog house". Most houses have little yip dogs who come scream when I walk by, but this one on the corner claims the loudest dogs, and it seems that they multiply each time I go by. Last night there were three.

At that intersection (of via S. Agata and...via S. Agata - it's like being in Boston) I turn left, and road curves a bit and becomes less steep. Another cross street comes up quickly. The cross street itself is winding, and I worry that a car is giong to zip around and nail me one of these days.

Down another shady hill we approacht he center of town. It is on this hill that I begin to see all of the old women out sweeping the leaves in the morning. I am not sure if each house has an old woman of its own or if there is some sort of "rent-a-nonna" program. The church is the first thing you see at the bottom of the hill. Novafeltria has three church buildings, but S. Pietro in Culto is the town parish. It is a lovely light stone church with a sonorous bell.

Once I pass the church on the way down from the aparment, the buildings become less residential, the road curves a bit more past some shops and becomes a cobblestone road. the school and the theater are both on this street. Also, some friends' apartment is here, so I often spend timet here if the trip back up the hill is too daunting mid-day.

So that's my walk most mornings. It can be quite beautiful, walking into the valley, admiring the mountains on the other side. Unfortunately if I gaze too much at their splendor I fall down. Speaking of which, my knee is almost healed.