(no subject)
So uh, Italy. As nearly every human will inform you, it's pretty swell. But, having bummed around said country for well over a month, it surpasses swell and gets into that area of stellar life changing experience.
Which includes the inevitable copper skin glow one can wear for months afterward.
I went for the purpose of school, which translates directly into some sort of theatre work. My sole purpose was to build, paint, and run the Italian premier of Cassanova's Homecoming, a fairly enjoyable American opera.
Yeah, opera. Ugh.
The scene shop was dismal, illustrated perfectly by the organization of their tool wall, so scene construction was hindered right from the start.
Though we were worked like slaves, our occasionally kind masters freed us for the weekends, and I scampered off to the big cities to fully exercise my right to behave as a stupid tourist.
Besides Italy simply being a quality country to explore, it's history is arguably the most engaging feature. Two tedious semesters of art history were rewarded with personal encounters with nearly every great work ever studied.
And despite how attractive the David appears in photographs, in person the boy can engage and seduce you for hours without fear of causing tedium.
(photography was completely forbidden, this, sadly, was my stealth shot).
Venice, I argue, is the best damn city on this here planet. Not only are half the streets made of water, but there is, consequently, a complete absence of road vehicles.
Plus, it's pretty.
Both arriving and departing the country, I traveled alone, causing me to meet several remarkable co-travelers, and develop nerves of steel as I quickly learned to interpret a train schedule and communicate without the aid of a familiar language. And there was plenty more unfamiliarity besides just what came out of people's mouths. I bestow a list upon you:
- public fountains with superb water adorn every other street corner, yet restaurants charge two dollars for a bottle of the same.
-not a chance in hell of a free refill, even though your coke costs 4 bucks.
-museums display precious art in perfectly vulnerable manners, without climate control, and fully accessible to curious, wandering hands. Except of course for the handful of museums that keep the artwork under bullet proof glass and forbid photo documentation of any kind.
-dogs and kitties run wild in the streets, and those who have clear owners follow said owners without aid of a leash anywhere the owner travels, including restaurants, museums, and the grocery store.
-rats have wings and are called pigeons
-bagels are unheard of, as is salad dressing, peanut butter, and any meat besides ham.
-mammoth chunks of marble are stacked along the roadsides, fresh from the quarry, yet Italy is not the huge hole in the ground that I expected from three centuries of large scale art.
-men know how to dress.
-the only fast moving objects are the cars, the tourists, and the workers at McDonalds. You won't find any true Italian moving any faster than the average American grandpa.
-a blond with pale skin doesn't stand a chance of going unnoticed.
Here you will find Italy, as seen through the lense of my Nikon. It saw five huge cities, one quaint village of Lucca (our home, complete with 13th century surrounding wall), and the coastal trail of cinque terra, a chain of five tiny towns overlooking the sea.
Despite my attempts, no mafia sightings. Though for an ironic spark of enjoyment, Franc D'Ambrosio (ye who played Anothony Corleone in Godfather III, [and the Phantom on Broadway]) was tossed into the Lucca program as an opera vocal coach. The guy could drink us all under the table.
Yup, Italy is swell. But I wouldn't recommend it for anyone with bad climbing muscles or a caffeine addiction.
Which includes the inevitable copper skin glow one can wear for months afterward.
I went for the purpose of school, which translates directly into some sort of theatre work. My sole purpose was to build, paint, and run the Italian premier of Cassanova's Homecoming, a fairly enjoyable American opera.
Yeah, opera. Ugh.
The scene shop was dismal, illustrated perfectly by the organization of their tool wall, so scene construction was hindered right from the start.
Though we were worked like slaves, our occasionally kind masters freed us for the weekends, and I scampered off to the big cities to fully exercise my right to behave as a stupid tourist.
Besides Italy simply being a quality country to explore, it's history is arguably the most engaging feature. Two tedious semesters of art history were rewarded with personal encounters with nearly every great work ever studied.
And despite how attractive the David appears in photographs, in person the boy can engage and seduce you for hours without fear of causing tedium.
(photography was completely forbidden, this, sadly, was my stealth shot).
Venice, I argue, is the best damn city on this here planet. Not only are half the streets made of water, but there is, consequently, a complete absence of road vehicles.
Plus, it's pretty.
Both arriving and departing the country, I traveled alone, causing me to meet several remarkable co-travelers, and develop nerves of steel as I quickly learned to interpret a train schedule and communicate without the aid of a familiar language. And there was plenty more unfamiliarity besides just what came out of people's mouths. I bestow a list upon you:
- public fountains with superb water adorn every other street corner, yet restaurants charge two dollars for a bottle of the same.
-not a chance in hell of a free refill, even though your coke costs 4 bucks.
-museums display precious art in perfectly vulnerable manners, without climate control, and fully accessible to curious, wandering hands. Except of course for the handful of museums that keep the artwork under bullet proof glass and forbid photo documentation of any kind.
-dogs and kitties run wild in the streets, and those who have clear owners follow said owners without aid of a leash anywhere the owner travels, including restaurants, museums, and the grocery store.
-rats have wings and are called pigeons
-bagels are unheard of, as is salad dressing, peanut butter, and any meat besides ham.
-mammoth chunks of marble are stacked along the roadsides, fresh from the quarry, yet Italy is not the huge hole in the ground that I expected from three centuries of large scale art.
-men know how to dress.
-the only fast moving objects are the cars, the tourists, and the workers at McDonalds. You won't find any true Italian moving any faster than the average American grandpa.
-a blond with pale skin doesn't stand a chance of going unnoticed.
Here you will find Italy, as seen through the lense of my Nikon. It saw five huge cities, one quaint village of Lucca (our home, complete with 13th century surrounding wall), and the coastal trail of cinque terra, a chain of five tiny towns overlooking the sea.
Despite my attempts, no mafia sightings. Though for an ironic spark of enjoyment, Franc D'Ambrosio (ye who played Anothony Corleone in Godfather III, [and the Phantom on Broadway]) was tossed into the Lucca program as an opera vocal coach. The guy could drink us all under the table.
Yup, Italy is swell. But I wouldn't recommend it for anyone with bad climbing muscles or a caffeine addiction.