I Ponti e Il Pesto

Before I begin this entry, I need to say that I am truley touched to so many of you are commenting and reading my blog. I am happy that you are all enjoying it! I actually look forward to writing it not only for myself, but for the fact that people actually seem to enjoy it too. "Julie and Julia" anyone?

That aside, I had quite the weekend. It began on Friday morning at 7:30am (which means you were all still asleep, and for that I was insanely jealous) to get on a bus for the 6 hour trip to Venice. Before getting to Italy, anytime I met someone who had visited the country in the past had one, consistent piece of advice (besides eat): go to Venice. So, I had high hopes for the place. After a LOOOONNNGGG bus ride, we finally pulled into a massive parking lot. This made sense, as I was sure the actual city did not have a place to park...unless we wanted to sink! But, the only thing I could think of as I got off the bus was of Disneyworld. "Now, remember kids, we are parked in Goofy 5."

I have only ever seen pictures of Venice in books and photos, and so for my entire life I have kind of associated it as a land of make believe. Only in "Lord of the Rings" or "Harry Potter" can you actually find a city that sits entirely on top of the ocean! But guess what...it is real. Thousands of years ago, people built this place without the use of modern construction and without much knowledge of what might happen. But through their faith, they made this city on top of the ocean. And as we walked more and more over what felt like thousands of bridges, we arrived along the Grand Canal of Venice.

Oh my God, I thought. This place is ridiculous! People live here!?

But as the initial shock of this beautiful city faded, something strange happened...now, when walking in Ascoli, all I ever here is Italian. But suddenly, I heard a foreign voice, one that I had not heard in a long time. The sound of the harsh, gutteral accents of American English. Huh? But we are in Italy! How the hell are there so many Americans here?

And the more we went throught he city, the more of an awkward melting pot this place became. German, French, English, and American English suddenly dominated the language of an Italian city. And as I looked around, I saw tourist booths and carts carrying cheap souvenirs of the landmark, and people constantly taking pictures. I hated to think of this, and it surely did not detract from the beauty of this place, but I felt further away from Italy being in Venice than I did in Ascoli. The feeling of Disneyworld had somehow followed me from the parking lot. And no matter what happened on this trip, no matter how amazing an experience, it has not left me.

But, despite that, Venice really is gorgeous, and I think it would be the perfect honeymoon location...at night, especially, it becomes so romantic. But everything you hear about Venice is true...it is dirty, the water is green, and it is certaintly very expensive. But thank God for the Kies and our supervisor, because we managed to have a very different kind of Venetian experience than the folks who were not so educated. For instance, Venice is known for their Mardi Gras celebration they call Carnevale. Where we have beads, they have masks, and every toursit stand sold cheap plastic ones on their carts. Arlene, however, told us that if we wanted a real, handmade papier mache mask, we had to find one in a mask shop. The masks on the cart went for about ten euro...in the shops, the cheapest would be about thirty five, if that gives you any indication of the difference in the level of authenticity. So, I decided...if I was going to walk away with one souvenir from this place, it was going to be a real mask.

The most magical areas of Venice, I feel, are in the bridges. Crossing over them, looking at the Gondolas and the water below...it is rather intoxicating. And therefore, the name of the entry. I will post the pictures of those (as there are dozens) when I have my laptop tonight, but otherwise I feel that was probbably one of the better sights I saw on my stay.

I do not want to go into excrutiating detail on every thing that we did, but there were several experiences that stood out to me more than anything. On the first morning in Venice, we took a tour of the churches. We ended up making it to five...and for the life of me, I cannot remember the names. The last one we visited was absolutely gigantic. As I walked through it, all I could say was "first they build a city on water, and then they build a church this big! How did they do this all by hand? Not to mention, entirely in STONE!" There is nothing like this America, unfortunately. No where do you feel an overwhelming sense of faith, because that must have been the thing that kept those builders going as they built this shining testament to God. I wish we had more of that now...maybe not in organized religion, but in other aspects of our lives.

And I did everything you are supposed to do in Venice: I took a Gondala ride, I bought a very beautiful hand made mask, I walked around and saw the many lovely areas. I also managed to see Monteverdis tomb, Mozarts house in Venice, and Goethes house, althuogh they all happened to be stumbled upon by accident. We saw a concert, albeit not a very good one...we were all relatively diassapointed that the town we lived in had better music than VENICE! And the more the weekend strecthed on, the more we all became homesick not for the U.S. but for Ascoli. I missed my home away from home...the mountains, the people, the Italian I was learning, the (much cheaper) prices, and the homlieness I felt in a city that was not so well known by the rest of the world. I felt my Italian speaking get weaker as waiters refused to talk to us in Italian, trying to make our order go faster. I craved a cappucino from Shereen and Paolo, and I wanted to have dinner at one of our local spots. Was I greatful? Of course. But what this trip taught me more than anything was that the best part of any country are not the major landmarks. It is the little towns and the regular people that have made this stay in Italy so magical and relaxing.

And I think by now you all think I am crazy for saying that, as it is a fresh dream to any American to visit places like Rome, Venice, and Florence. But I think what happened this morning proves my point more than ever. As I walked up to the school to get ready for class, I began to climb the hill. And as I made it to the cafe to get my coffee, Shereen excitedly dashed from the counter. "One minute!" she said said, and when she reemegered she had a plastic bag. "A gift for you" she said. And its contents: a jar of homemade pesto and pasta! "It might not be very fresh, but I wanted to make it for you."

And you know what: a million Gondola rides and thousands of masks could not compare to an act of kindness like that. That, in my opinion, is Italy.