A birds eye view.

Due to the plethora of things I have been doing over the past two weeks (endless hours on trains, planes and moving, essays, work and attempting to keep some semblance of sanity), I will be playing catch-up for a while. Which is good, because with the advent of another hectic semester, my life becomes considerably less blog-able.

Life is all about perspective. sometimes things are really ugly. And hard. And confining. Then you go above it all and see how free you really are.

Birds are lucky, aren't they?

Venezia

Oh Venezia, sei veramente bellisima. Era un bel giorno.

Glass blowing, canals, flags, seagulls, sculptures, ferry rides, gondolas, getting lost.

This was only a fraction of the pictures that I took. Venice is one of the most intriguing places I have been in Italy. It was worth the twelve hours of traveling in one day. Mamma mia, I was not a happy camper by the end of the trip. I had a hard time sleeping the night before, then got up at 5 am, then walked all day and didn't eat enough food or drink enough water. Around 7:30 pm, I gratefully sunk into my seat on the train to Florence, utterly exhausted. I just wanted to zone out and read The Help (highly recommended). Alas, no such luck. The second I began to settle down, I got half my seat taken by a mom and her two kids (apparently it's OK here to lift up the arm divider and take half of someone else's fairly expensive seat). This was just not OK with me. So, the next stop we pretended to get off and then switched seats. Naturally, they were right across from a group of Nigerians speaking very loudly, to each other and on the phone, and eating some incredibly pungent food. A few stops later, a girl gets on and sits down next to us and begins to paint and file her nails. Around this time, the baby that I was originally sitting next to started screaming and a beer spills on the neighbors table. Noxious fumes of nail polish, beer, body odor and meat and rice wafted into my senses. I wanted to vomit, and the night had only just begun. After two hours, we arrive in Firenze. Layne realizes there's a train that may be going to Siena, but it was leaving in maybe two minutes. We run across five binari and barely make it onto the last cart of the train. Then, before the train makes its first stop, we run through every single cart to go ask the conductor in the front if this train goes to Siena. Turns out it doesn't. Go figure. So, we get off and find the train that goes back to Florence. Then, we wait. And wait. And finally, embark on our next two hour journey to Empoli. Here, we wait for a bus that brings us to the Siena train station. After another two hours on the bus, we arrive in Siena, deflated, haggard and grumpy. We trudge up the endless flights of escalators. Then walk through the annoyingly busy streets (it was almost 2 am by this point) and at last, stagger into our apartment.

Phew.

It was quite the journey home.

Blowing in the wind.

I had my last day with the cooking school at Dante Alighieri.

Naturally there were about three times more students than usual: 11 students, which doesn't sound like much but is a lot more than 3 (as I had in my class the day before that). It left less time for taking picture and made me do a lot more translating, as there was a family there that didn't speak a lick of Italian, though they definitely knew how to say thank-you in Spanish.

Working here is a riot. I translate for tourists that come to learn how to cook, though half of the time English is their second, third, fourth language. Not their first. But that's ok. We always make it work.

The food is incredible. We always make four courses, and always make our pasta by hand. It doesn't get much better than that. Want to hear some of what I've made?

-Torta Salata ai Porri Leek torte

-Pici con l'aglione Pici with garlic

-Soffice di Cioccolato con Panna e Menta Chocolate custard

-Patate Arrosto alla Toscana Roasted potatoes

-Tagliolini al Limone Egg pasta with lemon sauce

-Panna Cotta con Frutta di Bosca Cream custard

-Ravioli Burro e Salvia Homemade spinach ravioli with sage

Friends, the list could go on. This food is scrumptious. I think this is enough to make your mouth water though. Mine is.

Leek tort.

Gnocchi in the making.

Stirring some potatoes. Hard work.

Chef Luisa. She's spunky, sings, calls everyone her "bambini", can wash dishes and show someone how to do something at the same time (or so it seems) and makes anything taste good. Even rabbit.

Slow exposure of the moon and city, off of the terrace where we eat dinner.

When I had to stop working at L'Osteria del Gatto, I foolishly did not want to switch to Dante Alighieri. I was terrified to translate and didn't want to work until 9 at night. However, now I wish I had gotten to work there more, as the interactions with the students and the chefs I had while there are some of my favorite memories. The night I came home from working with Nando I was ecstatic- we had talked for over two hours, just us, about life. About the world. About things that matter. And he doesn't speak English. Best. Feeling. Ever.

Saying good-bye to Luisa Thursday night was incredibly difficult. Every day I keep having to say good-bye to someone, and I feel myself being sprinkled throughout Siena.

It stinks.

Currently, the men in the apartment across from mine are trying to get my attention. They can see right in my room, and apparently think I'm going to answer to "Scusami? Scusami?". Fantastic.

Now they threw in a paper asking me to go eat with them. Dear me.