It has been two weeks. I feel Im in a mid-life crisis: my time here in Italy is going by too quickly for me to grasp it properly. There is still so much to see, but so little time in which to do it... Time goes by too quickly...
Too many things have happened for me to relay them all on a blog. Despite everything I have lived through recently, I find it difficult to express in words how it has changed me. I only know that now, as I reflect upon my experiences, I have been left with a deep imprint by Italy and its people.
For instance, I have a new-found respect for flies. This might come as a surprise (why now when Ive had 21 years of fly-swatting experience?) I saw a fly in pain. Out of pity, I decided to put it out of its misery, and instead found that it had in fact been in labor and I watched in shock the baby larvae crawl out of their mothers abdomen. Knowing that female flies feel the same pain we women do when giving birth to children opened my eyes to the fact that they are, like us, living, breathing beings, and I suddenly find myself incapable of killing a fly. Sine the incident, I have made many fly friends at the Agriturismo where I stay.
The Saturday following my first party, I spent the day on the beach in Bolsena. I drew, enjoyed the water, and spent a couple hours tanning. As I was comfortably installed on my towel near the end of the day, a biker came up to me and asked if he could take a picture. The man was tall, built like an ox, his leather jacket plastered with patches and metallic studs, and his enormous handle-bar mustache held up his nose and sunglasses on his face. I freaked, but nodded, not exactly sure how to react. As I was posing with the first, a second one came up and positioned himself opposite to the first. I was surrounded by huge biker guys. My face was panicked in the picture. I hardly tried to hide it. A third man came along and decided my other friend should be in the picture too, so we posed again... they thanked us warmly and left. It may be safe to assume that I am now the new face of Harley-Davidson, Italy.
That day, we came back to Acquapendente to help put the final touches on the Pugnaloni, came back to the apartment for supper, and went back to party. We visited almost every one of the 15 teams working on a Pugnaloni, then went back to our friends to dance. I feel I did not get to dance very long, as we were soon dragged out for a walk by a few friends, and we ended up in the main piazza of the town, eating sandwiches and meeting Romans in a bar who came to party. We walked back to our rooms at 3am. The next morning was brutal...
The celebration for the Pugnaloni occurred that Sunday. It was one of the few days we had rain. Legend has it that this particular weekend always gets odd, cold weather due to the fact that it is during this time that we remember the cherry tree growing in the field in the middle of winter (the sign that encouraged the people of the town to overthrow the evil invader Barbarossa). We got to the town just in time to see the finished Pugnaloni exhibited in front of the main church, and then get wrapped in plastic to protect them from the rain. The parade arrived in the main piazza a few hours later. The rain had taken a break just long enough for the show which included lots of men in tights: 2 opposing bands with drums, trumpets, etc., knights and damsels and beggars in original renaissance outfits, and the flag-throwers (an awesome and extreme sport: a mix between cheerleading and javelin throwing). After the sow, a few girls chased after the hot knights while the others went home due to the pouring rain that had started up again just as the ceremony was ending.
Drawing class is intensive. It is definitely worth the 6 credits in terms of work load... and risk. We draw in narrow streets in which we can hardly share the space between ourselves, even less with the cars. The wind near construction areas blind us and cover our clothes in dust. The church catacombs and crypts are dark, moldy, and of a kind of freezing that tears straight through your skin and into your bones. We rush from space to space in the steep roads between the houses: one minute here, turn around, another minute there, run to the other side of the street and do another 1 minute drawing... We truly are drawing in the face of danger. But I would not exchange it for the world. I have had a crappy week of drawing, totally thrown off balance. My once-confident abilities have been put into question. In other words, I am growing; developing into a new kind of artist, sensitive to the texture, the mass, and the sounds of every element of every place. And when I feel overwhelmed and overworked, in the afternoon, I run to the cemetery or the forest and I draw some more.
I met the man who sells flowers to the grieving. I met the local mangy dog, the old man who always takes care of his garden.
So much has happened and so much will happen, I doubt I will have time to write regularly (not that I started out being "regular") but I will be visiting Sienna, Florence, Rome... and then Naples, Pompei, and Paris.
Will write back soon... just dont know when...
keep in touch!
WORD OF THE DAY: Orario
schedule. as in the weird schedule that stores have. they all close when our class ends, and reopens when we are busy having supper... they have a 4 to 5 hour long siesta... so inconvenient.
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