The Water of Life

I find it of interest that aqua vitae is never actually aqua. For those of you lacking in Latin, aqua vitae translates to “water of life.” From all of my nutritional education and bottled water commercials, I would be inclined to believe that the water of life is water, but it’s not. Rather, it’s moonshine; or at least the equivalent of it.

I mention this some days after our second “wine and dine” of the semester. Not quite as delicious as our first one; this time we had two merlots, one fermented in steel barrels, one aged in oak, and a lovely chicken salad for a starter with lamb for the main course. It was all very good, and I learned I preferred my wine aged in oak for the flavor. None of this matters quite as much as the dessert.

Grappa. My old friend; the remnants of the winemaking process distilled to create a very powerful liquor. The majority of the group has only heard of grappa, murmurings and warnings before the trip, most from our Italian professor. Grappa acquired an “urban myth” status in many ways; the mysterious liquid from Italy that would burn your throat away or make your eyeballs explode, or something equally horrible. I was slightly more prepared, having experienced grappa in appropriately controlled situations before. Which really only meant that I poured my grappa over the grape gelato, and realized it wasn’t half bad.

Of course, experience doesn’t change the fact that grappa is extremely strong, the Italian version of aqua vitae. I remember hearing this phrase a number of times throughout my life, and only recently has it all connected; aqua vitae is one of those great cross-cultural concepts that helps to define a culture. For the Italians: grappa, made from the grapes after they’ve been pressed for wine, and super concentrated. Up in the British Isles whisky appears; the word “whisky” comes from the Gaelic for “water of life”, so it’s pretty easy to see the connection there. Off to the east is Russia and vodka, which derives from the Russian for “water”. Whisky and Vodka are some of the most recognizable icons of their home countries, and I have no doubts that if the wine wasn’t so good Grappa would be more well-known.

However, I don’t have the time or the energy right now to get into a research project about this, but I keep wondering about this pretty widespread phenomenon of aqua vitae.

Just a few thoughts for me to consider as I wander along. I’m off again in the morning. It’s spring break, and I’ll be in Prague for a week, spending time with non-Tech people. Should be a good adventure, off in a city where I have absolutely no idea how to speak the language, or even the foundations, and virtually on my own. I’m terribly excited, but still not packed.

Some extra thoughts

Being without convenient internet access for the past few weeks has put me in an interesting position regarding technology. On the one hand, there is something remarkable about being cut off from the world to a degree; I’m more inclined to read or go for walks or find any other activity. On the other, I can’t easily communicate with my Stateside friends, and I have to sequester myself in a little room in order to research and book travel plans. Beyond that, for any degree of security regarding my plastic card I have to borrow a friend’s computer, re-find all the websites and input information all over again, forcing the entire process to take twice as long. Nor can I send websites to fellow students to check out a hostel or compare options with any great sense of ease.

Which basically means: I miss my laptop and its wireless card terribly.

As for the inspiration behind this entry, I was sorting through my photos from last week’s Italy trip, and out of the 400+ photos I took, approximately 140 garnered the response of “Why did I take a picture of that?”; another fifty were deleted for being crummy duplicates as I sought one good shot, and another 50 were “how many views of the same wall/ceiling/altar/art/pile of dirt could I possibly get?” As it turns out, I have some 362 photos from Italy, after a culling of bad shots, and not including Randolph.

This is the great miracle of the digital age. Where before I would have traveled with 10 rolls of film, with maybe 30 shots per roll, I can now take multiple shots of the same thing without worrying that my memory card will run out, leaving me without that memory of yet another broken piece of pottery. Even better, my memory card can potentially hold 5000 photos (if the little green numbers on the screen are anything to go by). And! I have too many settings to choose from. I can take party shot, night shots, through glass shots, outdoor movement and standing still. No end to the fun with a digital camera.

After all those pictures are taken, I can upload them to a computer, and then share with friends and family worldwide through the magic of the internet, and especially Facebook. Of course, everyone around me is in the same situation. We have digital cameras and internet access; and must greet every Monday e-mail inbox to find that 10 people have tagged you in 1, 2, 3, or 15 photos. Because of my reduced internet access, it takes me a lot longer to get all those photos online and captioned for easy comprehension of the event.

In another lifetime, all my photos would be carefully packed up in film canisters to be brought back to the U.S. in May, and then sent out for developing. It could take weeks for me to finally look back on all the things I did, and by that point, I will have probably forgotten why that particular broken building was significant. Considering my state of mind at the end of the Italy excursion, it’s quite certain I would regret some of the 34 photos of the Forum, and forget all the details. Mind you, those are just the panoramic shots; details of the Forum will be another album, and another set of information helpfully forgotten.

But we live in the technology age, and I can take 400+ photos in a week, delete several of them, and feel the confusion of “what is that? And why do I have a picture of it?” much earlier.

The Roads Lead...and then they keep going

Well, I’m back. I think that about sums up the feeling of the end of Southern Trip 2008. For those of you without access to the itinerary, I left Switzerland at a nonexistent time (5:00 am) last Friday. I returned today just after 15:00. I have checked my e-mail, and discovered a number of pressing issues that will be handled before I take off for Prague next Saturday. In the meantime….I went to Italy.

Last Friday: I awoke at a nonexistent time (a few people may recall that the previous debate was whether 6:45 was a real time. It is. 5:00 is not.), and departed still out of the realms of reality (5:45). I watched the sun rise over Milan from a bus window. For those of you expecting some lush, romanticized story of seeing the red glow through the city smog, while I sat in my cramped seat wondering why various deities allowed traffic which was the main reason we were leaving so early- forget it. It wasn’t that fun. Fabio took us through the mountains and into Tuscany, where we paused in Siena.

Siena really is a pretty city, with a lovely stripped Duomo; reminded me of Straticcela gelato. Siena has winding streets, and an annual horse race with seventeen families competing (well, ten at a time). I was more intrigued by the free gelato we found along one street as we walked from Campo to Chiesa to Duomo. I would have liked more time in Siena, actually. We really only had an afternoon to explore, as we were back on the road by 8:00 the next morning.

On to Rome, it would seem, after a brief break in Tarquinia. First an hour of wandering painted Etruscan tombs (better if there hadn’t been glass in the way); and then another two hours of museum wandering and lunch. There’s not a lot to say about that stop.

So it’s off to Rome for real this time. We arrive in the afternoon, and promptly go on a brief foray past the Colosseum, and into the Circus Maximus; then up to Santa Sabina and home to the hotel. Keep in mind that all of that takes up approximately three hours. Why is that important?
Because on day two in Rome, I start a 8:00, whiz by the Colosseum (and our tickets don’t work out, so new plans), see the Arch of Constantine, most of the Forum Romanum, lunch in a Chinese restaurant, see the majority of the Capitoline museum, get disappointed by the Colosseum again, stop by the Trevi fountain, brief shopping, then resting before dinner. Day three is up again early, for 7:45 departure to see the Vatican museum (including the Sistine chapel and the Sobieski room. And everything else), street vendor lunch, into St. Peter’s Basilica, and then a walking tour past the Castel Sant’ Angelo, across the Tiber, down the most expensive street in Rome (Via Corso), up the Spanish Steps, down to the Hard Rock café for souvenirs, then into the Capuchin crypt thing.

This deserves pause: I got a reputation within 20 minutes of the Italy trip for liking the morbid/macabre/creepy things. Really, I don’t quite know how it happened, but it did, and it’s not wholly inaccurate depending on your definition of morbid/macabre. This is why our professor suggested the Caphucin crypt. I was perfectly happy to go alone, but I’m pretty glad people were with me. It’s five rooms of bones in the crypt. Not haphazard bones strewn about by the years and neglect. Oh no- these are carefully arranged bones, in artful patterns. Truly, the vertebrae have extraordinary decorative potential. I was rather fond of the shoulder blade rosettes. And of getting out of there.

From the crypt it was up to the corner of the fountains, then into one church, past the Quirinal palace, and down to the hotel. Only lemon basil gelato kept me going at this point.

Finally, day four. Up later than usual- a 9:00 departure from the hotel. Now it gets busy: down to the Trevi for coins and pictures (right arm over left shoulder to return to Rome, by the by), out past the Column of Marcus Aurelius (Richard Harris in Gladiator; you can also use this column as a prequel to Gladiator), around the corner to the Pantheon with the nifty McDonalds, around the other corner to the fountain of the Four Rivers by Bernini and across the sidewalk into the St. Agnes church designed by Borromini. Then! Off again to see the Ara Pacis Augustae, down Via Corso again, up the Spagna, again (which happen to be right next to the house where Keats died…Next trip), down and around to find the Chiesa di Maria e Vittoria….which had closed four minutes earlier. That’s okay, it’s only noon by this time. Time for lunch at the Hard Rock; never in my life have nachos and a cheeseburger tasted so good. Off again by 13:30 to see the Santa Maria degli Angeli- designed by Michelangelo, which a rather fun sundial thing. It’s in a Dan Brown novel, apparently. Then it was the Santa Maria Maggiore to marvel at the simplicity of the Bernini tomb (oh, and I saw Raphael’s tomb in the Pantheon, in case you were wondering), as well as the fourteen confessionals, each with three language options. It’s amazing how multilingual sins can be. Out from there, down the street and up the stairs to attempt the San Pietro in Vincoli….which was closed. Onwards to the Colosseum, where the theatre exhibit, “In Scaena” had closed two days earlier, when we were supposed to have gone, leaving me a sad theatre major. Or “sad panda” in the vernacular of the youth of today. There’s not a lot to see in the Colosseum, so on towards the Lateran, by way of cinnamon and caramel gelato. Pretty sure I missed the doors I was supposed to see, but it’s a lovely cathedral nonetheless. Straight shot out of there to see the Maria e Vittoria, which had reopened at 15:30; allowing all the art history majors to see St. Theresa in Ecstasy. For those who don’t recognize the sculpture, it’s kind of a big deal. Personally, I think St. Theresa’s description of her ecstasy is far racier than the actual statue. Then another straight shot to see San Carlo (Borromini) and Sant’ Andrea (Bernini). The chiesa di Sant’ Andrea was positively mobbed by Polish tourists, which confused me until I saw the tomb of Stanislav Koska. Which means virtually nothing to me, but apparently he’s a big deal to Poland. Then a block down the street to the Quirinal palace and the Nostoi exhibit. Nostoi basically means homecoming; it was an exhibit of all the things taken out of Italy by other collectors, which have been returned in the last few years. Got lectured by a member of the Caribinieri there, so I don’t think I’ll ever go back. Then down the road, and back up the steps to see San Pietro in Vincoli, so I can cross Michelangelo’s statue of Moses and St. Peter’s chains off my list. Finally, at 18:35 I was done, and off for brief souvenir shopping before dinner.
And that was Rome. Needless to say, my feet hurt, and I didn’t have much time for shopping, so no leather or scarves for me. Also, I was exhausted. This meant that Wednesday morning, when I had to get up at 7:00 for a 7:45 departure I was less than pleased. But on to Cerveteri for another set of Etruscan tombs, these far more fun than Tarquinius. Into town for a museum of pottery, and then lunch. Out of Cerveteri, and off to Orvieto.

I’d like to say that Orvieto was wonderful, but by Thursday morning, I was exhausted, and quite ready for Switzerland. I did see the Duomo and the miraculous cloth that inspired the Feast of Corpus Christi. I saw museums, an Etruscan temple, and the outside of the Well of St. Patrick. It cost too much to go in, and by that point, my brain couldn’t handle any more education. So, instead, a nice relaxing day around town; little shopping, sent out some postcards, and basically “chilled”. Friday morning was another 8:00 departure for a direct drive back to the Villa.
I think it’s safe to say I have yet to fully process the sheer scale of this trip. I’m relying on photos to remind me of half the things I saw, and Wikipedia to tell me why it was important. I should have some better analysis soon, but for now, all I can do is this list.

I forgot about Valentine's Day

Simply put, I’m nearing the exhaustion point. My weekends are filled with non-stop travel, and my classes during the week (which I was promised would be fantastically easy) are actually real classes, requiring time and effort. All this adds up to a very tired me.
That’s not to say I regret any of this trip. I am starting to question the value of some of my classes in favor of European exploration, if only so I can get another hour of sleep in the morning. There is a certain advantage to having destroyed my laptop a few weeks ago. I no longer have easy internet access, and thus a loss of most distractions. It does, however, make it much more difficult for me to make travel plans because I’m leery of the security of the Villa computers. In addition, I need the time to explore lots of options and make the best choice to save money and have a good trip.

Where does this leave me? Essentially exploring lots of alternative options to the internet, and wondering why there are only 24 hours in a day. I have caught up with my reading, which is a huge bonus. Just finished off Artaud's Theeater and its Double, still working on Tristram Shandy, and about to sart James Joyce's Finnegan's Wake. In case you were interested. I would be reading Joyce's Dublin, but the Villa's copy is in German, and I'm quite happy with the Italian, thanks.

That said, I’m off, yet again. This time I’m on my way to Italy proper; Siena, Rome, and Orvieto are on the itinerary. No Florence, Venice or Milan, mostly because those are cities that lack the glories of Rome and Etruria, which is really why we’re going. It’s not often that I’m told “We’re going to Italy for a week! And the entire trip will be on the Midterm!” Ahhh, the glories of Study Abroad.

I’m excited to go, of course. It’s been ages since I’ve been to Rome, and I should have a greater appreciation of the Vatican this time around. I’ve done some personal readings on the papacy as our class discussions will be focused on the remnants of the Roman Empire, and not so much on the current authority. I doubt we’ll have much discussion beyond mentions of Constantine and the design of early churches, especially the Pantheon, a rather conveniently converted pagan monument.

And so, I shall have to leave you for a week, with the promise and expectation of lots of stories upon my return. One more thing before I go. I mentioned that I spent the past weekend in Nice. It seems I am not the first to pass that way; my grandfather visited the same area many years ago, and had some memories to share:

Reading about Kerry's trip to Nice brought back memories. Sometimeafter VE day, while I was stationed in Reims, I got a week'sfurlough and Nice was a R& R destination. I hitched a rideinto Paris where I got a plane ride (my first time in a plane)to Marseilles and then a bus to Nice . I don't remember a lot about the week there otherthan the beautiful beach and gorgeous blue water . I did take asightseeing bus ride toward Monaco, which was off limits . Thiswas a beautiful winding road up through the hills overlookingthe Mediterranean. On the road from Marseilles to Nice were theseflower gardens up in the hills which were grown to make into perfume.

I Want to be by the Sea

I could live very happily on the French Riviera for quite some time, I think. Nice is one of the loveliest cities I’ve ever been to, and in the middle of February it’s possible to lie out on the beach and take the sun. I should do this chronologically:
Thursday afternoon- visited Lugano for food, and preliminary knife shopping. Swiss army knives are the greatest invention. Did you know you can now get those knives with 2 GB flash drives and laser pointers? All that and a corkscrew.
Friday morning: Off to Nice! Train to Milan, change, and five hours to Nice. Once you get to the coast, it’s beautiful. The Mediterranean is so blue, the mountains charmingly rugged, and trains offer such wonderful views. Friday afternoon: Arrive in Nice, and take the Demon bus to the pick-up spot for the Hostel. This was my first hostel experience, and I may never be happy again. Our group (delightfully small) stayed at Villa Saint-Exupery in Nice. For those who are unaware, Antoine Saint-Exupery was a pilot, and the author of “The Little Prince.” If you haven’t read it, you should. The movie’s okay, it has Gene Wilder and Bob Fosse. As such, lots of cute images from the book all over the Villa. The building itself was a renovated convent, and rather charming with a sweet little garden, and incredible views from our window. The chapel has been converted (ha!) into a kitchen/lounge/bar; really comfortable, with cheap drinks and food after 7pm. The rooms were comfortable, and because of the slow season our little group managed a free upgrade to a private room with en-suite bathroom. As for the staff…free pick-up and drop-off at the tram station, and so helpful; on Saturday one guy came up to us at breakfast to ask what our plans were, showed us stuff on the map, offered recommendations, and basically explained everything. I appreciated the help. That night my companions and I took the opportunity to walk around the city, and get used to the tram and bus system.
Saturday: Today was my Villa roommate’s birthday, which was grand. We started at the Matisse museum, which was spectacular to look at. His Saint Domenica church plan was stunning. Wandered about the local Roman ruins, but couldn’t make it to the archeological museum owing to their afternoon naptime. So, off to Monaco after luncheon sandwiches; we encountered a very cute small child, who found it quite amusing to flip us the bird. Huzzah for early education.
Nice is pretty close to Monaco- we took a 40 minute bus ride to get there, all along the French Riviera, which has got to be the prettiest view in the world. Even better….one euro for the trip. Cheapest travel to another country I’ve ever encountered. And the bus drops you off in front of Monte Carlo.
Ahhh….Monte Carlo. I really wanted to visit Monaco to see if all the James Bond movies were true….and they are! The casino is gorgeous, but I only got as far as the foyer. Bit of a fee to get to the gaming tables, but it’s so rich! Everything about the place drips in excess and disposable income. And right outside the building, I found it. The Aston Martin DB 9. Surrounded by BMW and Bentleys, there was the holy grail of spy cars. I was thrilled, to say the least. Walking along the port, my group encountered the other Monaco group, and adopted the evening plan of seeing a soccer game. In order to fulfill this plan, my trio climbed up to the palace, looked about for a bit, saw all the Grace Kelly souvenirs, and climbed back down to get to the stadium. Took a pause in a grocery store to look for dinner, but the crowds and mess, and cart girls on roller skates was enough to send us scurrying back out, and off to the stadium.
For eight euro, we got seats to the evening’s match up of Monaco v. Lille, and time before to eat still more sandwiches and rest our tired feet.
The game wasn’t terribly well attended, but we discovered the glory of soccer hooligans in our section (I proposed a plan to abolish Tech cheerleading in favor of official hooligans at all games). It’s really rather exciting to see a game where the action doesn’t stop, and every five minutes some guy trips, or gets kicked in the face and promptly gets back up after milking a little time. I really do love the game. No victory to be seen, but still a good night of sporting goodness with friends.
My trio had to wait for the late bus to Nice, so the hour of waiting was well spent at the bar with beer and coffee, before yet another one euro bus ride. Think about it: 10 euro for Monaco, Monte Carlo, and soccer. I call that roughly $16-17 well spent. Even better was the girl having a weird drug trip at our tram stop. My knowledge of drugs and their effects on the human body is limited to most cold medications and the ensuing coma, so any thoughts on the source of: hysterical screaming, sobbing, belligerent, loss of body/muscle control, throwing self onto the ground would be greatly appreciated. Our discussion led to: acid trip or excess of adderol.
Sunday was supposed to be spent at the Archeology Museum, but we started just slightly too late for full enjoyment, so we visited the beach, poked at a few stores, and then waited for the train. Another five hour train ride home awaited us, which afforded some napping and homework opportunities. I ignored my work of course, in favor of exploring all the options my iPod offered for music based entertainment. And bonding with traveling companions. Arrived home to the Villa around 9pm, thoroughly exhausted, but still pretty relaxed from the weekend.
I’d have to recommend the Riviera to anyone planning a trip to France. It’s gorgeous, it’s relaxing, and the tram is so seductive. Really it is. You have to hear the voice. I really had no interest in going to France at any point this semester, but I would gladly return to Nice any time. There’s so much more to explore in the area, and so many new places to see, including Cannes, the rest of Nice, and Eze. And I should go see the “Asterix the Gaul” movie. I love finding all this references to my childhood as widespread cultural icons, unfortunately in the original language. I suppose I’m going to have to learn French now. I wasted five years on Spanish, when I should have been learning French and German to go with the current study of Italian. Silly me.

Adventures in Fooding

Virginia Tech has one of the top University food programs in the United States. Every year when the higher-education rankings come out for the next generation of desperate high school students needing a degree from somewhere, there’s at least one list concerned with the creature comforts. And food is pretty critical. I remember during my own college selection process one sibling regaling me with the story of his own process; he went to the counselor and when asked about what sort of school he wanted to attend, his response was “I want to go where I can eat Lucky Charms every day.” Good advice, although I prefer Captain Crunch.
And so, for the past two-and-a-half years I have enjoyed the glories of Tech’s food program; West End is pretty much the best thing to ever happen to gastronomic tendencies. But now I live in Riva, and that’s changed some things.
Villa Maderni houses just under 60 students, all in varying stages of travel, and all in need of feeding multiple times a day. In order to address this need Virginia Tech employs two gentlemen: Luigi and Gaetano. These two work in the kitchen, preparing the lunch and dinner menus.
Breakfast is provided on a limited scale, offering the absolute basics: bread, yoghurt, fruit, cheese, and Nutella. For lunch we’re offered a salad bar and some form of pasta or pizza. And then…dinner. Every night is roughly the same model: first course of soup, second course of meat and potatoes, and dessert. In truth, I may not come home after this.
I’ve been gone for a month, and I do miss certain elements of American cuisine. I lament the loss of Chipotle from my diet, and the discovery of Dr. Pepper in the Co-op sent the entire Villa into a tizzy. The discovery that I could possibly get on a military base to acquire U.S. products, and then distribute Doritos and Dr. Pepper to the masses to secure my place as a benevolent god was met with much support. The food is great here, but it’s all Italian, all the time.
As for the food itself: The food pyramid has been rearranged as far as I can tell. The major Canton Ticino Swiss food groups appear to be: carbohydrates, fruits/vegetables, meat, and Chocolate. The chocolate category is divided into actual chocolate and Nutella. Nutella may actually be the greatest thing to happen to the universe, but I gave up chocolate for Lent, so it’s a little difficult to talk about right now.
Bread and pasta form the basis of my carb laden diet. The Villa bread is spectacularly delicious, and is augmented by two servings a day of pasta, rice, potatoes, or pizza/crepes. Ravioli, tortellini, spaetzle, canolini, lasagna, risotto- all perfectly prepared, with a range of sauces and fillings. Fruit and Vegetables come along by necessity, as contorni or simply a snack of kiwi. The meat is something else. So far I’ve had four meals of veal, goulash, roast chicken, roast beef, fish, and notable meal of Rabbit. But nothing comes close to last Tuesday.
In honor of Mardi Gras, the final night of the Carnivale season (side note, Bellinzona throws one heck of a party) the Villa hosted the first “Wine and Dine” night. Daniella, who runs the day to day of Villa Maderni has taken a few sommelier classes, and is happy to share her knowledge. This resulted in a delicious meal to complement Bianco Rovere, a white Merlot from Ticino.
I know what you’re thinking: Merlot! That’s a red wine! What’s all this silly “white” and “bianco” nonsense? Let me explain: first- bianco and white are the same word, so that was a redundant complaint. Second- the color of a wine comes from the skin of the grapes and tannins and a whole lot of other important scientific details. It is possible to remove the skins of the grapes during the production process to keep a Merlot white, rather than red. This happened in the 1990’s, when the red wine market collapsed, and in order to avoid replanting all the grapes in the region the Ticino wine makers got creative with the process.
Enough history: the meal! We enjoyed a first course of vegetable Terrine; rather, I say we enjoyed, when the incident was more of “I’ll eat it, I don’t know what it is, it tastes kinda funny, and the texture is weird. But I’ll eat it.” Went very well with the wine, and followed by the single greatest meal of all time:
Rosemary roasted beef with Parmesan shavings, mixed vegetables, and bacon-wrapped roast potatoes. Matched with a delicious wine, and chased by dessert of apple streudel. I don’t think I can adequately describe the glory of this meal. The meat was so tender and juicy, with just a hint of rosemary flavor to give some spice, and the parmesan is so creamy and rich on top of everything. The potatoes were golden and buttery, wrapped in bacon, so smoky and delicious. Vegetables were there….break up the meat-fest that made up the meal. The struedel had such a flaky golden crust, and such sweet, crisp apples. It’s been nearly a week since I ate this, but the memory remains that this was the best meal of my life, and I have eaten very well in my lifetime.