The land of Amelie and 8 Women

Pretty much the second I landed in Paris I was raring to go. I did not have one second to waste because I was not going to let a silly little thing like lack of time stop me from really seeing the city. And boy did I get around.
I jumped on the metro to discover the people of Paris really do want me to fulfill all my fantasies, as a musician instantly made accordion music the background soundtrack to my life. Feeling very Parisian, I met my roommate from Emory, my new tour guide, and one of her Parisian friends, making for a very interesting translated conversation. My roommate kept telling me that her friend knew English and he clearly understood me better than I could understand him, so at first I was confused why he didn't take this opportunity to practice his English. Then I realized, that's how I feel every day in Italy. I want so badly to be able to communicate, but often end up getting embarrassed and resorting to English unless I have about 10 minutes to prepare and memorize exactly what I want to say. This exchange not only reminded me how normal it is to pass up opportunities to practice a language out of sheer panic, but also that I need to try. The best way to learn is to interact with native speakers and at least try your damndest to use all the vocabulary you have in your pocket.
Anyway, my lovely friends showed me Notre Dame, the Seine, the Latin Quarter, and The Luxemburg gardens all before I could figure out where I was. And in turn, I showed a native how to be a tourist by whipping out my camera as often as he would let me.
It was then time for wine in gnome cups, my first crepe, and WILCO. In that order. Which probably explains why the gnome cup ended in my purse (come on, it was clearly made for me personally)

and why I couldn't resist the urge to ask Jeff Tweety to dance. He didn't hear me, but it was certainly worth a try. Apparently Europeans really like to watch concerts sitting, but fortunately Jeff got them all up and dancing. While a seated crowd might not have much energy, at least I got a perfect view of the band. Wilco didnt say as much as I expected them to, but that was probably because the crowd wouldn't have understood much anyway. What mattered was that the music was fantastic. I love legitimately talented musicians. After watching bobos in action (Parisian, hipster bourgeois teenagers), it was time for some beauty rest.

For my first full day in Paris I think I walked from 8 AM until 11 PM with about an hour break. The things I do for love. Once again, I was up before most of the city, so I got to see the streets of Paris. I wandered in and out of side streets, ending up in the Jewish Quarter. This section is filled with pastry shops, falafel stands, and Judaica stores. Food, shopping, and synagogues. My kind of place. I then met up with my roommate so she could show me her favorite pastry shop on our way to the Arc De Triomphe and Champs Elysees. I think my favorite part of the Arc De Triomphe is the traffic that surrounds it. The fact that people drive past it every day shows how intrinsic art and history are to the city, and Europe in general.
We walked down the Champs Elysees, moving quickly past the overly expensive shops toward the Rodin Museum and Musee D'Orsay. The main exhibit in the Rodin Museum was close, but, being an art student (tee hee) I saw the special exhibit for free. It consisted of his beautiful sketches, which really are rough sketches that somehow capture the movement and beauty of naked women. I was most drawn to the ones that involved color, as they were often soft and bright. This exbihit demonstrates his understanding of the human body and energy.
I emerged just in time for the rain to stop, so I could wander in the garden and see The Thinker, among other famous statues. I made his art my own too:

To round off the day I went to Musee D'Orsay. Many people I've talked to prefer this to the Louvre, and I understand why. The collection is extensive without feeling like it is TOO much. There are Van Goghs, and Toulouse-Latrecs, and a great room of all paintings that are only related in that they are all night scenes. There is also an entire hallway of statues. My only problem was that it is not organized for people in a rush (aka me) because the museum isn't really structured in a way that guides you through it.
So, I saw as much as I could manage before the guards kicked me out.
On my return home I passed a beautiful shop with macaroons in the window and decided the long line was a sign that it was time for a treat. Apparently I had stumbled into one of the most famous macaroon stores, Laduree where I enjoyed salted caramel. Excellent choice. And always buy it when you see it.

 The next morning, after a lovely walk around Marais, I got more pastries and headed with my roommate up to Montmartre. I have decided that should I move to Paris, this is where I would live. It's close enough to the city and the perfect amount of quirky. It has smaller, windier, streets, colorful buildings and artists everywhere. And it's on a hill. And I completely forgot until a day ago that Amelie called it her home, which explains my instant comfort.

 Afterwards we got falafel at Paris's most famous falafel stand (random, i know, but surprisingly great)

 and I went to the Centre Pompidou. I am in love with this museum. It's modern art, with beautiful pieces like this:

 This work tells a story with words suspended above the ground, and all the lines create a web. It was difficult to read the entire story/read between the lines (blech, that just happened) but I loved it. There is also a great exhibit on vintage television, which shows the art work on old television sets in vintage living rooms. Finally, the museum has a lovely view of the city. If you have any interest in modern art, GO HERE.
Finally, it was time for the Louvre. I absolutely understand why everyone leaves feeling disappointed. I made a point to at least enter every wing, but did not feel like I saw much because there was too much to see. Also, I hate how all the signs point to the Mona Lisa, as if to say, "yeah, we all know that's why you're here." With every sign I saw for it, I wandered in the opposite direction, determined to see other parts of the museum too. When I finally made it to the Mona Lisa, I was not disappointed because everyone had warned me that I would be disappointed. So, I am here to tell you that it sucks so that when you see the Mona Lisa, hopefully you will like it too.
I did like the energy in the Louvre. It was great to see how many people had devoted their entire afternoons to viewing art. Yes, a lot of people had to relax on couches but what is usual laziness seems far more cultural when it's done in front of Renaissance masterpieces. And I'm a little jealous that French students can take class trips to the Louvre.

 Instead of just telling you how I summed up my Paris excursion, I'm going to make some recommendations. First of all, take the time to walk up the Eiffel Tower. And then keep on going up to the top. It's worth it. On my next visit I hope to do it right before sunset so I can see the views during the day and at night, but the shining lights were spectacular.
And finally, if you get on the metro and there's an accordion player, a violinist, and a lovely man who asks you to dance, take him up on the offer.

Mmmmm thinking about my trip still kind of makes me bubble inside.

Spring Break part un: Nice (too many bad jokes to make with the name so I'll spare you)

My spring break began with an all-nighter in Rome because, really, why would you go to sleep when you have to be at the airport at 6:45 AM? My Rome experience started the way all trips should, with dinner with a friend from Emory and her roommate. This place sparkled with gnomes (literally, there was glitter everywhere in addition to gnome statues) and had is one of a few restaurants in Rome that have a student menu offering an appetizer, meal, dessert, and vino for 10 euro. A good deal that shows there are some benefits to having a large American student population in a foreign city. After an Italian style extended dinner, we passed ancient ruins while looking for open bars, but settled on a crepe stand instead. While I was only there for a short time, Rome certainly intrigued me more than I expected it to. Fortunately I'll get to see it in the day light very soon.
After a series of bizarre events, I finally made it to the airport to meet up with my ADA travel buddies and we boarded the plane to Nice, France.
We landed in Nice, a popular beach vacation spot in southern France, to find sun. So, the first thing we did was run onto the rocky beaches, play in the cold water, and search for sea glass. It was absolutely too cold for a beach day, but this was the closest we've come to spring in a long time.

First of all, I bought my first ever macaroon, which I have been impatiently waiting for. I got speculoos, which in real life is some cinnamon spread that's vaguely peanut buttery in texture, and everyone should try. The macaroon was perfect, as were all the other desserts.

We then went to the local market to buy excellent French cheese, baguettes, and produce, making a picnic on the beach. After stuffing my belly, I hiked up some interesting looking stairs to find a maze-like castle with the most beautiful view of Nice and Monaco. Finishing my walk, I saw some of the last weekend of Carnival with a flower parade (picture floats made of flowers with acrobats that were throwing even more flowers), rides and moonbounces. The day ended with a lovely home-cooked meal of bruschetta, sweet potato fries, and an assortment of sauteed vegetables in brie coated pasta. It was incredible to be able to cook again.

Since I woke up the next morning a solid 4 hours before anyone else even considered getting out of bed, I went exploring. The more I saw of Nice, the more I liked it. The first day I had been a little thrown off by how commercial everything felt. Upon first view, all I had seen were the blinking lights of stores, so it all felt a little fake, and as my friend said, "confectionary." When everything was closed, I realized the buildings themselves were lovely. The town is mostly painted in pastels with beautiful balconies. It certainly feels like a vacation town, which is not exactly my style, but it is a beautiful place to be.

Once everyone got out of bed we boarded a bus to Menton, searching for the Citrus Festival. First of all, the bus ride was possibly the best hour and a half I have ever spent in transit. We drove up and down the mountains of Nice, Monaco, and Menton, getting a view of the beaches and towns. Once in Menton, we saw a parade of floats made entirely of oranges and lemons. The parade also had dancers from different countries and more confetti than I've ever seen in my life. This was only one event of an entire week of citrus. Europe will find any reason to celebrate. And I like it.

We ended the evening with Carnival fireworks and the famous fishy meal necessary in a seaside town. Granted, I did not partake in the all you can eat moule e frite (mussels and fries) but I did have a real nicoise salad and the best creme brulee I've ever tasted. Talk about a successful meal.

For my last morning in Nice I ran to grab breakfast at the market to discover my fresh produce had been replaced with antiques. Talk about a nice discovery. The streets were suddenly lined with old cameras, hermes scarves, and some random useless crap. My kind of place, thought it did not satisfy my hunger. I ran to find the strongest smelling bakery around and purchased my new favorite meal, quiche. I couldn't resist the selection so I ended up with a tomato and tuna one in addition to a leek one. The crust was perfectly flaky and the flavors worked quite nicely. Yep, apparently I'm eating fish now. Europe's changing me.

Skating the streets of Venezia

For some unknown reason the program decided to let us out of our cages to roam the canals of Venice. Perhaps not their finest decision, but definitely our finest weekend. Upon arrival, our teachers got us pleasantly lost as we searched for the Hostel. To be fair, the hostel was in a confusing place and the beauty of Venice is highly distracting. Venice is a great place to get lost because no matter what, you're trapped on an island so you can't go too far.

A lot of people talk about how touristy Venice is, but I think this reputation comes from the shops you see as you first enter the city. The further you go, the more beautiful the place becomes. While shopping is everywhere, the amount of things that say "Venice" or look like mass produced crap decreases. The masks and glass that make the city famous become more original with each shop, just as long as you keep walking.

We finally found our hostel, and then got lost looking for the Peggy Guggenheim museum. This was a refreshing treat because I have not seen anything produced past the 15th century in an awful long time. There was Chagall, Pollock, Picasso... It was a small museum but an extraordinarily beautiful one. I think the best part was the wishing tree, donated by Yoko Ono. I know it sounds kind of cheesy, but there was something cathartic about putting my wish into words and sharing the experience with everyone else. I guess this program is really getting me in touch with my feelings. That's art.

Anyway, after the museum we began one of the most ridiculous nights of my life. It all began with dinner with our teachers, Claudia and Gianni. Most people got seafood pasta, but as it was shrimp I enjoyed spaghetti vegetarian style. There were also almond biscotti in Marsala, a sweet but STRONG dessert wine. Of course this was after we sampled both the red and white house wines, so things started getting a little strange. It all began with Claudia's game of food charades, where we acted out our favorite Italian dishes. Aka, lasagna turned into people lying on top of each other. Pasta involved a lot of flopping around... you get the picture. Claudia and Gianni then took us through another "tour" of the city. Well, it started with one of them yelling, "stay inside the square" as we ran around a confined space. That turned into a Tarantella circle dance of stomping, singing, and clapping. From there, we sang on a street called, "Calle de amore di amici" (Street of friendly love. or something), did headstands anywhere there was a flat surface, went ice skating in our sneakers on an abandoned ice rink, and took an excessive amount of pictures in shadows. We put our movement and voice classes to good use. And probably gave Americans a very odd name. Here is some documentation just to prove this all actually happened:

The next day we took a "bus" aka boat to the island of Murano to see some glass. We didn't have long there, but there really wasn't that much to see anyway. Then we had class with Gianni and Claudia. Claudia started off with some more touching (contact improv. in theory.) Then we found inspiration in photographs of our choice, finding the feelings and movement expressed. We then used our individual explorations in quartets, finding ways to do what we had done but relate it to others with very different stories. Gianni then took over. We moved with the water in our bodies, and then were all drawn into the center of the room to form an amoeba. I kid you not, this is the language we use here. The amoeba involved everyone rolling all over each other and breathing together. I am getting class credit to cuddle with people. From there, we separated into pairs. One person became G-d, the other his creation. G-d made noises that inspired the creature's creation. Once we were all creatures again, we formed another big circle to dance the tarantella. The tarantella feels awfully familiar to the horas and other Jewish dances we've done, which is not surprising at all. It is nice feeling so comfortable while learning about another culture.

Speaking of Judaism, as soon as class let out some friends and I wandered over to the first Jewish ghetto to crash Shabbat services and dinner. Yes, there was dinner. And a mighty fine one at that. And it was outside, next to the canal. Free seafood, and chummus, and babaganoush, and other words that are ridiculous to spell. The best was the wine. It bubbled and sparkled and it just kept flowing. You know what they say about Chabad, better food better alcohol. I did not realize how universal that rule is, but I'm glad it is. Besides the freeness and the tastiness, it was so nice to know that I can go to any Jewish community and not only be welcomed, but really connect. I could talk to everyone there in Hebrew as the conversation entered strange transitions between English, Hebrew, and Italian. We also bonded with some lovely American students, who helped us get lost one more time in the city. We asked everyone for directions but the streets were desolate. And we were all a tad loopy. Somehow, we turned a strange looking corner and as I prayed I would turn around and the hostel would be there, a Shabbat miracle occurred and we were home.

The best part about Chabad was that after we ate all their food at dinner, they invited us back for lunch. And obviously we took them up on it. So, to say goodbye to the lovely city of Venice we toured San Marco's Basillica, which has ceilings and walls of mosaics. Talk about getting distracted by shiny objects. Then, we headed to another lovely, religious lunch, and I departed on a train for Milan. 

1st piece of advice, don't sit in the wrong class on an Italian train. The ticket collector will yell at you for 15 minutes in Italian even if you respond in English to show that you clearly don't understand. And he will make you pay for sitting in 1st class even if you just try to leave. What made the whole experience particularly confusing was that the only words I understood seemed to resemble "police" and "documentation" and I REALLY don't want to get deported. So, that became an issue.

Finally, I got to Milan to visit with my cousins. In the actual city we  spent most of the time in traffic, but it was well worth it because I spent the evening on a vineyard called Cave di Moleto in Piedmont. I tried 4 different kinds of wine, all grown on that vineyard. I also tried really hard to retain information about the wine and between my memory and wikipedia here is what I have: I liked the Barolo the best, made from the Nebbiolo grape. I also enjoyed the Barbaresco. I'm getting there on the wine information.

Also, we had the most marvelous leek flan in cheese fondue, cheese platter, peppers in non-fishy tasting sardine sauce, and pasta with porcini mushrooms. I shall never again eat cheese in America because Italian cheese actually has a strong taste. It's a revolutionary idea to be able to taste your food. The pasta with mushrooms was decent but the shrooms were clearly not fresh, so I'm sure the dish could have been better. 

What really mattered was the dessert. I finally ordered tiramisu and, while it was good, it was not as good as what they serve in the Villa. The tastes were right, but the proportions were not. There was not enough lady finger for my taste. The villa's sheet cake of tiramisu, however, is perfect in every way.

We did have the best dessert I've had so far. It's called "Zabaione freddo all'Oro dei Saracini." It literally translates to Egg Nog. It's a custardy mousse made out of a dessert wine. It was a perfect consistency and perfectly sweet. My cousin and I were fighting over that one. 

The next morning was the first time I saw the place in the sunlight, and I discovered this:

Aka, miles of vineyards that overlook the French Alps. Not a bad deal.

I had to transfer trains in Milan so I took a quick stroll through the city. I went to the Duomo and shopping area for some epic people watching. I also found out that the best way to find five star hotels is to ask to use their bathroom. Milan really is high class. The people were interesting, but not as intimidating as I expected. The prices, however, were. Decent looking restaurants charge more for 1 course than I usually spend on 2 meals. Supposedly there is also a 7 star hotel nearby, which I plan to find on my next trip to Milan. Overall though, it was a perfect brief introduction to a city that usually gets mixed reviews. I found the city to be pleasantly lively and I realized how much I miss the hubbub. I left invigorated enough for my 5 hour train ride back home. And ready for a fantastic week before spring break.

Another weekend, another marvelous chance to go exploring. This weekend took me to Sienna and Cortona. ADA gave us bus tickets to Sienna to see a show, so I cashed mine in early and got a full day of a beautiful city. We headed straight to the Duomo (yes, there is one in every city) and I'm still overwhelmed by this building.

After marveling at the most stunning view of Sienna, we wandered around the city looking for food. Luckily we thought to ask someone in a supermarket for a recommendation, and ended up with really good cheese, ribollita, and wine. I swear I could live off ribollita. It's a traditional tuscan soup, made mostly with oil, bread, and beans. It's hearty and keeps me warm in this unfortunately cold weather.

Honestly, most of the day ended up revolving around food. We found this random hut in the middle of Il Campo, the main public square, and it looked like they were frying butter, so naturally we had to order whatever they were serving. Thank goodness it wasn't really fried butter, but it was the perfect combination of sweet and savory. We swore we would get more, but when we returned it was closed. The mystery of the hut makes the experience all the more satisfying. We finished off the day with pizza, tiramisu gelato and nutella pizza. Granted, I couldn't eat the nutella pizza due to unfortunate allergies, made all the more unfortunate by the fact that all chocolate in this country has hazelnuts in it, but it was still a noteworthy stop on our trip. They really will put nutella on anything here.

After some fantastic walking and eating we saw a show by a German performing group involving masks. The show was phenomenal. It mostly involved grown men wearing masks acting like babies and then old men in a nursing home, all moving to beautiful orchestral music. These performers are extraordinarily talented at moving and telling a story without talking. Plus their integration of music was satisfying. The best part was that we got to meet one of the performers after because one of the directors of our program knows him. Apparently we are well connected here.

The next day my roommate and I woke up to take a short trip to the nearby town of Cortona. This is where the book and movie, "Under the Tuscan Sun" take place. Not that I have read or seen either, but that is what attracts most tourists. It's on the top of a hill, overlooking the edge of Tuscany:

More importantly, Gnoam found a few friends here. 

There are 16 churches in this tiny, hilly town. While we could not possibly make it to all of them, we did make it to a marvelous pastry shop and wandered the streets for a while. We also had a fantastic taxi driver who kept pulling over to the side of the road to give us a history of the town, pointing out the various churches and graveyards. It was nice to have such a thorough description from someone so passionate. It was also nice to realize that we could understand him even though he mostly only spoke Italian. The fact that he was speaking slowly definitely helped.

The best part was when we wandered into a Tabacchi. Tabacchis usually just sell stamps, candy, and cigarettes but I happened to notice stairs in the back of this one. After wandering down the rabbit hole I found a gorgeous gallery. The owner explained to us that he had restored a 4th century BC well, and we saw the fish swimming in it. He had restored the entire building and now had pictures of the Tuscan hillside for sale along with beautiful leather bound books. We made friends with him and he helped us find a cab when we realized we didn't have a working phone and didn't want to walk the 4 miles downhill back to the train station. It's fun to make friends.

More bragging about how wonderful this program is...

Well, it's been an interessante few days to say the least. A lot of gushy feelings and stuff. First came Tarantella with Gianni and his lover, Francesco. Both have that bald-headed, facial hair, and slender body kind of artsy look that make them impossibly cute together. Francesco is a writer and an actor, so clearly the perfect choice for a dance class? I had no idea where this was going, but I had liked Ash so much I decided to trust Gianni's taste in people and teachers. I'm still not entirely sure what to think of the whole experience, but I have many scattered thoughts that are ripe for the sharing. First of all, the most common critique I get after a performance is, "you seem like you didn't really know what to do with your face." I'm not offended by this because it's true. Most of the time, I dance for me. I dance because I enjoy it, and don't know how to approach the audience. The whole performance aspect and pde (public dispalys of emotion) still feel new to me. I need to learn how to use my face, yet another part of dance that most people would think is natural but still baffles me. So, as if I did not already know that I was in the right place, these classes with Francesco confirmed it. The Accademia is dedicated to building well-rounded, talented artists, which involves dance beyond technique, and exposure to completely unfamiliar forms. Francesco's class was no exception. Both days Francesco chose songs that he found emotionally stimulating and told us to improvise to them. This experience interested me for a number of reasons. First of all, it was odd that we had to do soul searching to a song that someone else imposed on us. I liked his selections but he kept telling us that we weren't doing enough, which makes sense for people who didn't connect as strongly to the song.  Finding inspiration to music did remind me how much I love the connection between movement and sound, which I have not played with in a while. Moving to songs that I feel passionately about inspires me to perform, so it may be a technique worth exploring.
Anyway, the music Francesco chose ended in a lot of crying from the class. We had a lot of sobbing girls trying to dance, to which Francesco told us we were not doing enough. He said we needed to tell more and do more. He started out both classes pretty harshly, which left a funny taste in everyone's mouths. I don't know that I feel comfortable having someone tell me my emotions and story aren't enough. Fortunately, after these aggressive comments that we were not doing well enough, he adressed each of us individually.
The individual comments really helped me understand how I can get better. Like all of my teachers at Emory he told me to show my strength more. I guess if I have muscles I may as well use them.
Besides the fact that he started the class with a few too many negative comments that did not set the right tone, the only other thing that I don't completely agree with Francesco on his view of dance. As an actor he believes that everything we do is for the audience, and he strongly emphasizes the connection between story-telling and movement. While there is certainly a time and place for performing and for story-telling through movement, I think there is so much more to dance. Like I said, I often move because it makes me feel good, with little to no interest in showing my work to an audience. Also, there are many choreographers who create movement for movement's sake. I'm not sure that Francesco really understands the difference between theater and dance, but after a lot of emotions and near miscommunications, I'd say it was worth it to learn more about performing.
The other notable class was the 4 hour contact improvisation jam, which was a rubbing up against each other kind of love and beauty led by a marvelous German man named Thomas. Disclaimer: contact jams are weird to watch and even weirder to describe, but beyond amazing to experience. It's a lot of touching and meshing of kinespheres, as you completely lose the boundary between you and your partner. If you have not yet experienced this mesh of bodies, you must. Now. Back to this class. It was a lovely way to spend my afternoon. We started out by finding our hips, before rubbing each other, manipulating each other, and lifting each other. They've given us a few workshops on lifting to make sure that we know the techniques that will allow anyone to lift anyone else. I often just jump into lifting people and end up pulling muscles because I get too excited and too ambitious, so this is a much needed lesson. It was beautiful to share this experience with the MFA's, theater students, and dance students because everyone was happy to move together. And guiding our perfect journey was Thomas's voice uttering sweet nothings such as, "enjoy the uniqueness of you in the present" and "appreciate the way you are supposed to be." Thank you Thomas, I think I will.

I have huge news. Like rock your world kind of revolutionary: breathing is important. Who knew?! Teachers have been giving me this advice for years, but it's really easy to forget about something so natural while I'm concentrated on remembering combinations and performing them well. It's also really hard to breathe when I'm stressed about the teacher yelling at me to breathe. I mostly ignored this advice, assuming that I must be breathing if I haven't passed out or died. Well, I can now publicly admit I was wrong. I never realized that breathing would actually help my dancing. I'll do anything if I think it's good for me. As it turns out, the teachers were telling me to relax and listen to my body. Breathing into your muscles makes stretches significantly more effective. Relaxing and breathing also allows you to find fluidity, comfort, and control. So, I am now that classmate that exhales obnoxiously loudly. And I do it proudly.

Modern class with Rita has also been a fantastic way for me to explore different qualities. We dedicated a large portion of one lesson to moving in slow motion. To put it in perspective, most combinations take half an hour to learn and 2 minutes to do, this one took about 1 minute to learn and 8 to perform. I never realized how much effort and energy goes into such little visible motion. I've also never had so much trouble moving both arms at the same time. I kept forgetting to initiate movement in one body part because I was so concentrated on a part of me that was already moving. With an emphasis on minute details, this piece kept me more mentally engaged and focused than most pieces do. It also looked stunning, as she did not set specific timing. So, while everyone approached the piece similarly, there were individual differences that kept the piece engaging.

Ladidadida dance. Oh and I finally got out of the small town of Arezzo. Only to realize how lucky I am to be here. But more on that later. Saturday morning we woke up bright and early, left the villa not so early (it is hard to get the troops mobilized), and finally got to Florence. First piece of advice, always wear pants when you know it's going to be cold and you're going to be outside a lot. Always. Second piece of advice, go to Florence.

Because you can see this lovely building. Welcome to the Duomo.

And to all of Florence.

After losing 98% of the group I started with because the silly Italian phones don't work, I literally wandered into the Uffizi by accident. Thanks to the beauty of persuasion and being in another country where they never really know what I'm talking about I got in for free under the guise of being a European student. Once inside, I accidentally went through the exhibit backwards, but that did not at all take away from the hallways of statues, the vast collection of art, and seeing the "Birth of Venus" in person. I spent hours there without even thinking to check my watch. After cultural overload, I remembered there was a chocolate festival and figured clearly, if I wanted to find people I knew, that's where they would be. And they were. Along with the most insane chocolate I have ever seen or tasted. The festival was particularly enjoyable because of my talent for finding free samples.

Just take it all in. Because that was only one of the tents. There were chocolate kebabs. And chocolate alcohol. And chocolate covered fruit (which is clearly where I hung out). Italy does food right.

After my first night in a hostel with a perfect group of people, I went to the Accademia to see Michelangelo's David. Everyone warned me about the long lines to barely see the statue, but clearly they've never been on the tourist off season. The hallway is lined with other famous statues and opens up to reveal the majesty that is David. Goodness he was distracting. I had to put blinders on to appreciate Michelangelo's unfinished series, "Prisoners." Michelangelo once said, "Every block of stone has a statue inside it and it is the task of the sculptor to discover it." This series captures that sentiment perfectly. The body positions and facial expressions of the figures make them look like they are imprisoned by the marble, trying to break free.

Then comes David. Apparently his head is disproportionately larger than the rest of his body because the statue was supposed to sit atop the Duomo. It all looks perfect from where I was standing. The longer I stood staring, the more I fell in love. Everything about the statue is captivating. From the gaze in his eyes, to his perfectly sculpted body. I can't wait to go back in a few weeks to stare some more. 

After my first Italian kebabs, we came back to Arezzo, excited to be home. While Florence is perfectly fantastic, it felt like a maze of tourist traps. Everyone spoke English, from the flocks of American  students to the shop owners. We walked all over to find a good restaurant that was not over priced, and ended up with a mediocre meal with a mediocre price tag. And the gelateria would only allow one sample and one flavor per cup! Criminal I tell you. Here, in the lovely town of Arezzo, the locals want to teach us Italian (except for the kids on the bus who just laugh at us when we almost miss our stop). They want to talk to us. And they let me have as many tastes as I want. Everything feels authentic because it is. I'm really in Italy. So yes, I'll hop on a bus to Sienna, and Cortona because I love to explore, but I could not be happier to be home at the end of every weekend.

While I've been away...

So, it's been a while. As usual, I have a whole list of excuses, from which you may choose your favorites:
I actually started having homework that I had to keep up with for at least the first week. I got cabin fever because of all the snow and went a little crazy. Okay, a lot crazy. I was off living in a colony of gnomes, until they realized I am too big to be part of their clan. I was temporarily frozen solid in the dance studio. I thought that because I wasn't leaving the villa I didn't have much to say. Boy, was I wrong. I have been eating life changing pasta and gelato non stop for the past week, and couldn't stop eating long enough to get on my computer.

So, here is what you have missed: I have fallen in love. His name is Giorgio Rossi and he's part dance teacher part alien. This is a special kind of love because I think his brain is so far away on another planet that I'm not sure that 21 hours together were enough to remind him I exist. Still, his  multi-colored pants and tendency to start every class by having us massage each other and roll around on the floor get me every time. The weird Italian analogies that often end in his own confusion don't hurt either. After three 3 1/2 classes with him last week I thought I was burnt out. I thought I could only watch his Joe Demaggio impression so many times. That was the lack of fresh air talking. After a lovely weekend of wandering around in the cold under, I kid you not, 5 layers, I was refreshed and ready to start again.
Giorgio focuses entirely on natural, organic movement. This concept has become foreign for the class of trained dancers, so we actually had to re-learn how to hold our posture, stand and sit, and just love our natural tendencies. He constantly tells us to stop thinking, do less, and throw our brains in the garden. His motto is "don't do the movement. let it happen." It took me a solid 21 hours of class to understand what the words mean. Now hopefully I can actually find the ideas in my body.
Giorgio's exercises are all flowy, with an emphasis on continual, sustained movement. Under his tutelage we learned to give into gravity, moving our bones, not our muscles. One class, we spent about 20 minutes running around pretending to shoot arrows at each other (sound effects and all) so that we could learn to focus our gaze and body. My favorite activity was when we had to roll along the wall, giving the weight of different body parts to the immovable surface. Watching everyone turn and crawl at their own time and in their own style was stunning. Today, before leaving us for a whole month, he reminded us that each of us is the center of the world. And with that, I was ready for the rest of my day.

The snow and resulting Italian confusion cancelled a lot of our classes last week. That just meant more time with Ash. We learned more Tarantella and Tarantismo, though my back was sore after her first class that I wasn't at my best. I must say, her energy astounds me. Through all our pain, she got us up and jumping for hours and I loved every minute of it. We worked on movement, improvisation, choreography, and performance throughout the week. She taught us more traditional phrases, which we pieced together for two amazing combinations. Also, after she taught us her movement that was inspired by images and stories, we came up with our own phrases based on our personal experiences. She left us with an assignment to choreograph to an assigned piece of music, which we will continue very soon. Working with her taught me about confident, powerful movement and showing the resulting emotions in my body and face. I certainly have a lot left to learn, but it was a nice first taste. And about all my body could handle for the week.

We are finally back in ballet, now that the buses are running again, and we start modern again tomorrow. It is nice that while we are exposed to new ideas and forms we can maintain our training in familiar, more traditional dance styles.

Also, I think I had life changing pasta this past weekend. I know this is a big claim to make, so I'm holding off on reviewing the restaurant until after I return. Don't worry, I will be back there soon. I also saw the famous crucifix of Arezzo. In the church San Domenico is a crucifix by Cimabue, who was one fo the first Italian artists to move away from the Italian-Byzantine style in the 13th century. Oh, and I started learning some break dancing. Apparently I have to bounce on my head enough that I dull the nerves before I can be really good. And Gnoam found a friend:

I guess being stranded in Arezzo isn't so bad.

lasciate che nevichi (let it snow!)

Before I catch you all up on my marvelous week, here is the new view from my window:

Yes, all that lovely whiteness is snow! Even though most of the students are from places so far north that they don't know what snow days are, Mariah Carey's  "All I Want for Christmas is You" was absolutely necessary, as was the jittery dancing over breakfast.

Anyhoo, yesterday I was so bloated with endorphins and happiness that the only way I could channel my energy was to call my parents and thank them profusely for sending me here. So, parents, here is a public thank you. Why was I so happy? Let me recount the start to my week:

Monday we met Giorgi Rossi. Imagine the guy from "The Master of Disguise" teaching you dance. Giorgi Rossi is a cartoon version of an Italian, which I absolutely mean as a compliment. He says things like, "melt. like the rocks in the whiskey" and "kick your brian out the window, into the garden." By the way, brian is brain. He then acts out each odd analogy. As he scrambles to translate his already bizarre thoughts into English, he  ends up with fifteen minute long descriptions that both help and confuse at the same time. He also does the robot. A LOT. His goal is to help us find natural movement and make us "do less." We did muscle building exercises, like sit ups, without using our muscles. We did contact improvisation (which is when you must stay in constant motion while maintaining contact with a partner) without touching. If you're confused, don't worry, so are we. We've now had 2 days (7 hours total) under his tutelage and finally I'm beginning to understand. At least, I really enjoy the befuddlement. I love hearing him talk and I love moving with him. Most importantly, I love that he made me realize that I do not need to understand teachers perfectly at first. Instead, I need to have fun following their method and eventually it just might make sense.

After his class we went into town for our first ballet class. The teacher did not speak one word of English. Not an exaggeration. Luckily ballet terms are universally in French so, while mildly intimidating, she was fairly easy to follow. I am also really good at counting to eight in Italian now. I am really excited to have at least one strict technique class, because, as long as I don't have to wear tights and a leotard, I love ballet. The movements and posture make me feel regal even when I can't lift my leg above ninety degrees. This was the first class we've had with mirrors, and I am proud to say I ignored them completely. As this program is not competitive and the teachers are interested in personal exploration, I am able to focus on personal satisfaction in terms of feeling confident. I do not get nearly as frustrated if I mess up a sequence or if I see that I am not the most flexible because I feel good doing the movements.

This leads me to Ash's class. The best two hours I have had here. I started the class exhausted from Italian class. While calming, Ash's introduction to breathing made me think I could channel my laziness through two hours of calm movement. Boy was I wrong. I am not sure how or when it happened, but all of a sudden we were thumping through the room, flapping our arms, snaking our backs, and rapidly shaking our heads. All at the same time. With bent knees. This class was very reminiscent of my one semester of African Dance, which, for those of you who don't know, involves high energy movement, constant flexion of every part of the body, and extreme facial expressions. Ash's emphasis on creating images and stories to accompany the movement will help me perform, so that the energy does not settle in my body but extends to my face as well. I left that class excited to be sore today. And, thank you to Jake Krakovsky for a much needed massage. I woke up sore but ready for another 3 hours today.

Oh my goodness I completely forgot about the gnocchi. Ignore my earlier restaurant review. The villa's food is better.

So many vegetables! With my pizza and pasta.

With the kitchen closed on the weekends, I was finally thrust into the Italian restaurant scene. Besides the gelato place I have already been to three times, my current goal is to not eat at the same restaurant twice. At least not until I can justify and articulate what makes that restaurant worth returning to. I have not had enough experience with Italian cuisine to fully understand what separates one restaurant's dish from all the rest, but I'm rather determined to figure it out. So, here are the beginning of my explorations:

Last night I got pizza. The same way Americans have supersized, well, everything, Italians supersized an "individual" pizza. Don't get me wrong, I was happy to scarf down that entire thing. It was a very Hannah style meal. Pizza with as many vegetables as they could find in their kitchen. I left full and pleased.

The only frustrating thing is not understanding what is on a bill. We're starting to figure out that just because we do not understand what it says, doesn't mean they're cheating us.

We did get to see an Italian dance performance as well. There were three pieces, and while I can't say I loved them all, I was happy we went. The first piece was phenomenal, with paper dolls, two women in brightly colored outfits, some onstage costume changes, and a lot of raw, natural movements. There was a heavy focus on the hip thrust and fist pump in a way that made me smile. The choreography, music, and movers were all enjoyable to watch, and seemed really passionate about the work. The second piece mostly consisted of a woman standing on stage singing and yelling. I must have missed the movement part. The third piece was odd but the performer had a good understanding of her body's ability, so I enjoyed watching her kinesthetic awareness.

Anyway, enough about dance. I know everyone's really just interested in the food. Today after mass we went to a restaurant that we'd heard was good. And it absolutely was. Of course we've given up on ordering water, because hydration is not worth the money. I'd rather spend it on this perfect ribollita:

For those of you who want to yell at me for not ordering pasta, ribollita is a traditional tuscan soup. It's filled with vegetables and tuscan bread. It was hearty and perfect for a cool day. Plus, I warned my friends I would be mooching off their pasta dishes. My roommate, Emily, got this gnocchi concoction in mozzarella and tomato sauce. I have never seen this much gnocchi, nor such small and circular shapes, but it was certainly tasty.

My other friend, Seth, ordered ravioli with 4 cheeses, spinach, and mushrooms. It was a heavier, creamier dish, but epically tasty. I couldn't get a picture because we dug into that one too quickly.

While I think this restaurant may be a winner, especially because they had English on the menu so I knew I wasn't ordering a full pig, I'll get back to you after I do more taste testing. 

This little piggy went to market

Finishing up an intense week of 2 days of classes, we had our first experience in modern with Rita and Afro Brazilian dance with Carlos. Rita's class was comfortable yet challenging. Before I came to Italy I asked many of my dance teachers what they thought I needed to work on, and the unanimous decision was power and confidence. Interestingly, however, Rita told me to be softer. While the two dynamics do not contradict each other, I am struggling to find soft power. Also, Rita is particular about her choreography, asking us to copy everything from the sequence of the phrase to the placement of our fingers. The teachers at Emory ask for more individuality and less precision, so I do not have a strong attention to detail. I think this class will help me find more dynamic range, learn to follow the teacher's example closely, and notice how important details are in choreography.

Carlos's class was intensely energetic, which was exactly what I needed to keep me going for another 2 hours of dance. It's hard to fall asleep when you aren't allowed to stop moving and jumping. Plus, doing a few minutes of hip shakes while keeping our knees bent is no small feat. I think I already see more definition in my thighs. This class may make me dangerously muscular. 

He said he's going to teach us a few different styles of dance, and today we had a piccola taste of some of them. We did capoeira inspired movements, made even more difficult as he ducked under our kicking legs. He is a brave soul for trying that considering my lack of flexibility. We also did some movements inspired by symbols, which he explained is an important theme. He told us we could take another class with him in town that night, but by the end of the day we were all too tired to walk, let alone take another one of his classes.

My favorite part of both classes was how they taught the choreography. Both Rita and Carlos introduced  short phrases, which we would perform across the floor. With each passing they would add more movement, creating longer sequences. Their use of repetition allowed us to feel comfortable in the sequence so, by the end, we were performing. 

After lunch we had Tarantella with Gianni, but we were so tired we spent most of the time introducing ourselves and working with a combination of sound and gestures. This was a fun, but calm class.

After a lovely shabbat dinner, complete with prayers and all the fixin's, we spent more time getting to know each other over games and the cheapest Italian wine we could find. Naturally, when you put theater and dance students in a small room with wine impressive dancing ensues. Let's just hope we didn't piss of the neighbors.

Today, we all headed into town to explore the mile long market of crap, food, and pigs. So many whole pigs. I also found this sign:

 

And had to include this sign:

Tonight we are all going to see a dance show and eat our first Italian meal in town. I'm off to brush up on my Italian so that I do not accidentally order shrimp covered bacon topped with macademia nuts and nutella. Maybe I'll just stick with gelato. 

Orientation's great! Oh, and "classes" started.

Yesterday was orientation, which is code for a lot of talking and practicing my posture while sitting in cold rooms. We first heard from the president of the program, who explained that the villa is somewhat isolated from "downtown" Arezzo so that we can be with other artists who are 100% devoted to their art. Aka we're an artist kibbutz, with chores and everything. We then met with the main dance teacher, Gianni, who gave us a run through of the schedule, though I didn't catch much because he tends to speak in Italian and I was absolutely overwhelmed by the many teacher names. I did get that he is fantastic and we learn with many different teachers, alternating between styes. We also learned about Italian culture. For instance, do not tip. ever. The pope sucks. Italian boys have all become mama's boys, living with their families into their 40's. And, most importantly, there's a gesture that communicates, "your girlfriend cheated on you because you're impotent" (it's the rock on symbol. be careful.) We also got a tour of the villa, so that I now know how to get around. I must say, it's really nice being on time to a 9 AM class when you don't leave your room until 8:57. We finished off the day singing to a ukelele in a hallway and discussing future travel plans.
Today was our first day of classes. Which, really only consisted of one class because we had to spend hours getting our permissos so that we're not deported. The one class we did have was Tarantella with Gianni, where we spent time practicing our breathing and certain movements related to G-d, love, and instinct. Apparently Tarantella comes from the fields, when workers would get bitten by tarantulas, though Gianni doesn't focus on that story too much. He focused a lot more on teaching us series of movements that we did in a circle and with partners. He had mentioned the dance has roots in African dance, which I really saw today. Both dance forms involve using the same movements in different combinations, and almost in conversation. The dances we did were very relaxed and relied on natural movement, so it was a nice way to get to know a group of dancers, judgement free. I can't tell you a lot of the history behind what we were learning, though, because he really liked speaking in Italian. Thank goodness for hand gestures.
After lunch I took a nice walk up the road, and discovered all the nearby villas and farm. I then got my permesso, and, more importantly, a phone and gelato. I must say, I feel very silly walking into stores and only knowing how to smile and say "grazie," though I'm getting very good at communicating by pointing and accidentally using Spanish. I'm just not used to being so quiet I suppose. I've never been so excited for a language class to start though.

Roughing it in the hills of Tuscany

After spilling sprite over everything I own, thinking I lost Gnoam (I didn't), getting on the wrong train in Rome, and realizing I had no idea what to tell my taxi driver, I somehow made it here. To a villa that overlooks vineyards and the shockingly interesting and lively town of Arezzo. I think it all turned out okay because I found fresh fruit as soon as I landed in the Rome train station. It's always easy to keep my cool when I have apples around.
More to come when I'm not sitting in a room full of my new classmates.