Einsteigen, bitte.

Hallo! I am in Berlin, and it is rad. I totally learned the wrong language. Okay, that's not fair: I totally didn't learn enough languages. So many things to learn, so little time. Josh is here too, staying not too far from where I'm staying with my friend Ryan. Right now I am at the apartment, waiting for Ryan's roommate and his girlfriend to get back with the "guest bike," which they said I could use tonight. They said they'd be back around 10, but I'm not entirely hopeful considering last night they went out for one beer and came home around 6 in the morning.

I got here on Sunday, and before that I met up with Josh in Prague. We were there for a couple days, and... it was kind of not very fun, actually. It was cold and rainy, and the dude we stayed with was super weird. We needed a key to get in AND out of the apartment building (which seems like a fire hazard, right?), and he didn't have an extra key. And he went to bed early, which means we went to bed early. And he was just really super awkward and weird, and everything about us seemed to confound him. Anyway, there's also just not that much to do in Prague except walk around and look at pretty things (of which there are a lot, to be fair). So instead of opting for a hostel for one more night, we found a rideshare to Berlin and decided to take it. I think we made the right decision, because Berlin is really awesome. I have heard from so many people that Prague is their favorite European city. Liars.

I'm never in the mood to be on the computer for an extended amount of time, so I'm going to go. Tomorrow I go to Venice, then Rome in the next couple of days, then back to the good ol' U S of A to spend a few days in Chicago before my two-week sculpture workshop at Oxbow, which I am excited about. If you're wondering and I haven't already told you (and it's likely that I haven't, since I stupidly waited until not-very-long-ago to buy my ticket), I'm flying back into Austin on August 16th. Let's see each other.

happy bastille day

Don't worry everyone, I'm not dead. I am in Paris, which might be the opposite of being dead. Where did I leave off? Oh yes, America. I celebrated the 4th of July by going to a picnic at the American Academy in Rome, where a future UT sculpture professor is currently a fellow and where I ate a lot of food. Incidentally, today is the 14th of July, or Bastille Day in Paris, so I plan to go to the Sacre Coeur to watch some fireworks. After the 4th I did some more stuff in Rome, blah blah blah, including buying a new camera for really cheap in the city-wide sales. You won't be seeing any more pictures, though, as I forgot to bring the transfer cord with me. Oops. On my last night in Rome I invited my new friends to dinner on my Italian family's rooftop terrace. Everybody came, which was very touching. My friend Davide, whom I met on my first trip to Italy, also came into town, and in the morning we said goodbye to my Italian family and got on a train to Genoa. Saying goodbye felt strangely casual, like saying goodbye to a real family that I can easily go visit whenever I want. Except with this one I can't.

Genoa is a very pretty city and I enjoyed my couple of nights there, even though I'm pretty sure I picked up malaria in Davide's friends' mosquito-infested apartment. It was so bad that the 2nd morning the girls went out and bought a bug zapper after spotting about 35 of the little bloodsuckers just hanging out in a corner of the ceiling. After that Davide and I parted ways and I went to see another friend, Alberto, in Busca, and we both went in his car (way faster than hitchhiking last time) to see yet another friend in Artesina, who was in terrible shape; I am referring, of course, to the rabbit. Alberto made awesome vegan pizza and lasagna and packed me a lunch for the train to Paris. So great.

Last night I hung out with some German girls that were staying at the apartment I'm staying at. It's in Montmartre. There is accordion music floating through the open window right now. I'm not even kidding. Today was a very full day, but considering it has taken me about an hour to type this because the French keyboard is the stupidest thing in the world, I'm going to quit now. Send me emails, I miss you!

downpour/outpour

Right now it is pouring in Rome for the fourth day in a row. Day breaks bright and clear and hot, then in the afternoon dark clouds creep over the monuments and the sky opens up to pour its wrath upon the steaming streets. Each time I've managed to avoid getting drenched even though each time I've been without an umbrella. The other day I arrived at the National Gallery of Modern Art just in time; I hurried to the entrance as the sky turned black behind its bright white facade and listened to the thunder rolling around in that big palatial building (that leaks, apparently). It seemed like a good place to be as I stood inside, surrounded by beautiful testaments to human mastery over matter, and looked out into the courtyard at another beautiful thing no one has yet managed to manipulate. The sky here often looks especially radiant, even when it's raining, as though it had to compete with the eternal city standing in front of it. Or maybe I'm just idealizing everything in my final days in Rome.

Yesterday a torrent began right as I got on the bus. Water streamed in the gutters and hail beat on the roof as the bus made its way through traffic, but it conveniently stopped right as we pulled into the station and I walked home through a cool, pleasant mist. When my friend took me back home later that night, we saw that the storm had knocked down a big tree. Sometimes the storms are brief, but today, the day I was fiercely determined to finally embark on a bicycle adventure in the city, the weather seems equally determined to thwart my plans. I wanted to go see a bunch of contemporary galleries I still have not taken advantage of, but I guess it's not to be. Wednesday is my last day in Rome and I am realizing just how many things there are that I have yet to take advantage of. However, I also realize that no matter how many marvels I manage to expose my eyes to, I would always carry the same sentiment upon leaving, so I remain filled with more curiosity than regret. Plus, I'm coming back. Duh.

I think the rain is letting up, so I'm going to find something to do. Have a happy 4th tomorrow, everyone. Eat a veggie dog for me, because I highly doubt I'll find one here. 'MERICA.

More words, less pictures.

Lots less pictures. Know why? Because what I didn't mention in my last post is that my lovely jaunt to Capri was tainted by a minor tragedy: my camera fell out of my bag and the screen broke. It now looks like this all the time (photo courtesy of my Macbook--thanks technology!):



I only said "minor" tragedy to make myself feel better. I'm bummed. It still takes pictures, but I can't see if they're good pictures or not, and I can't adjust any settings, etc. However, last week a rather fortunate thing happened which has the potential to somewhat rectify the situation: I participated in an art show and ended up getting some money out of it, which means I have more money than I would have otherwise and maybe I wouldn't feel entirely self-indulgent if I were to think about buying a new camera. Maybe.

Moving on. The other day the thing I've been waiting for since the very first time I came to Italy finally happened: I got to zip through crazy Italian traffic on a moped. Just to clarify, splitting lanes is totally legal here, as is weaving between cars stopped at lights, as is (apparently) swerving into oncoming traffic to pass buses, as long as you're in a vehicle small enough to avoid getting yourself killed. Like a moped. To further clarify, I wasn't driving. But it was still really fun.

On Friday I stumbled across Rome's Critical Mass as I was on my way to a bus stop (because I, sadly, still do not have a bike here--too pricey).



Then I went with some friends to a seaside seafood restaurant. One of the dishes had squid parts that still looked like squid parts, so I thought it appropriate to arrange them artistically.



No one really thought it was as funny as I did.

More pictures, less words.

This weekend I went to Pompeii and ran my hands over things that used to be buried in volcanic ash.







Mount Vesuvius, looming large but not as large as it used to:



The thing in the case below is the form of a dog, perfectly preserved.



And this is one of the brothels, which had a menu of sorts frescoed over the doors of the rooms:




They must have been tiny people. Anyway, the trip to Pompeii was part of a weekend excursion organized by my program. After Pompeii we went to Sorrento, where we had a hotel right on the beach.





Unfortunately the beach was filthy and covered in trash, and the water near the shore had a suspicious foamy residue on the surface. It was still breathtaking from a distance, though. Saturday we went to Capri, which is one of the most gorgeous places on earth. A bunch of us rented boats and went all the way around the island, stopping to swim in turquoise-colored water and in caves. All these pictures are crooked because I was bobbing up and down on a motorboat.









We also went to the top of the island to hang out and be in awe of the view.





Then we went back down to a rocky beach that hurt everyone's feet and claimed a few victims with its slippery surface, but the water felt great.



On Sunday we went to Naples to see the Museo di Capodimonte. It was large and impressive and we only had an hour and a half to survey the beautiful things contained within, which made my heart hurt a lot. I'm hoping to be able to go back.



It rained on the way home.

Recently I walked through the path of a sprinkler and could feel steam rising around my ankles where the water met the scalding pavement. The heat everyone warned me about has arrived. It's not as bad as I had expected, but public transportation can be a little disgusting in the middle of the day. A classmate swears he saw a cloud of sweat-steam emerge from a metro train when the doors opened the other day. However, the evenings are still cool and I haven't turned on the air conditioning in my room yet.

Yesterday I went to Dacia Maraini's apartment (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dacia_Maraini) with one of my classes. She is probably one of the most important female Italian writers of the century, so it is a pretty big deal that she invited us to her place. She offered us refreshments and talked to us about her writings and someone spilled wine on her floor. The only thing I could think to ask her was to talk about her influences and contemporaries; she was friends with Pier Paolo Pasolini and Alberto Moravia and I kind of wanted to know who she's friends with now, though I didn't phrase it that way. Instead she talked about how she used to travel all over the world with her writer/artist friends and how much the world has changed and how things are so much more dangerous and difficult now. Fascinating and depressing. She also talked a bit about what she's been reading lately, so now I know some of what Dacia Maraini has been reading lately. Her apartment is full of books. She started writing her first novel when she was 16. I am wasting my life.

I don't have much else to say that I would be able to say adequately at the moment, so I will post some pictures of where I have been living for the past three weeks (I can't believe it has already been that long).







Ah yes, and this is Spillo:



Spillo is fat.



Spillo is mean.



Spillo is the only part of the family I'm not that fond of, and it takes a lot for me to not be fond of a cat. Maybe I will grow to love him. Here are some more pictures.

Dog Parking

Know one thing that is universal? The cuteness of baby animals. Several times so far I have seen American/French/Japanese/whatever tourists and Italians alike huddled together and cooing over tiny, adorable creatures. Maybe if I were small and covered in soft fur I could gain the respect of the Italian populace.

Speaking of animals, I ate a bunch of them the other night. You can't tell because the photo is blurry, but on the large platter pictured below is an array of whole fish and shrimps, heads included.







Speaking of aquatic life, yesterday I went to the beach. Ostia. Everyone says it's an ugly beach, but I'd say unremarkable at worst. I really enjoyed it. We got there at the perfect time of afternoon/early evening for me to not get baked in the sun, and after floating in the sea and laying on the sand in the waning daylight, we went to a friend's family's beach house and prepared a feast:









Notice the lack of any remnants on the plates pictured above; this is how to eat in Italy. The other evening I went to a restaurant and failed to clean my plate, and the waitress asked me if I didn't like the food.

Speaking of remains, the other day I went to a beautiful cemetery next to Piramide. I saw the graves of John Keats and some other notable figures, but I didn't get to spend much time there because I arrived right before closing. To alert people to the fact that the cemetery was closing, they began piping lethargic classical music through a loud speaker, accompanied by a really tacky soft-voiced message in several languages directing guests, over the humming violins, to move towards the exit. My friend Michele suggested that something so incongruous with the gorgeous, stately setting must have been an American idea.



The cemetery was originally for people who weren't Catholic and couldn't be buried in a holy plot; nowadays you have to be pretty important to be buried there, but I saw some newer inconspicuous graves of foreign citizens/non-Catholics, so I guess that reason still counts for something. Maybe by the time I die I will have done something important enough to be interred with the poets.



Speaking of death, I hope it feels something like the weightlessness of being held by the sea, floating gracefully away from an unremarkable shore in waning daylight.