Saturday, February 16, 2013

The Wonderful World of Venice (among other things)



Our family here at SBI is becoming closer; Hannah has dubbed our campus, "The Convent" and we generally refer to it as the "Nunnery".  Beth has suddenly become "Mother Superior", and has been ordered to address us all as "Sister".  During our class on Monday, we learned how to deflect men if they approached us and one of our favorite phrases was, "Sono una suora" (so-know oon-ah swoh-ra), which translates as "I am a nun"; I plan on using this at my very first opportunity!!!

Over this past weekend, we were buried in homework and took just enough time to surface for a trip to Venice during the last celebration of Carnevale.  We walked to the train station to catch the 10:30am train and it was quite a tight squeeze!  It takes an hour and a half to get to Venice and there were no seats left, so all of us just stood up in the center aisle and held on to whatever we could to stay upright.  One teenager, who by the way was dressed like a heart from Alice in Wonderland,  spoke to me in Italian and told me she liked my earrings!  (They were the skeleton ones that Wilbermom had given me for Cinco de Mayo)  Once we were out of the train, we were told to split up because the crowds were so thick that we wouldn’t have been able to stay together even if we tried.  So Mattea and I linked arms, determined not to lose each other, and set off to explore the wonderful world of Venice.
Everywhere you looked, there were costumes.  Ball gowns, the cast of the Wizard of Oz, Marie Antoinette, the house of cards, elegantly dressed but obviously olden day whores, Chewbacca, bumblebees, mermaids; you name it, it was there.  I even got my picture taken with Darth Maul!! 



After elbowing through crowds for half of the day, Ttea and I ate on the warf and watched the gondolas go by, full of Europeans, Americans, and Asians.  The Americans tended to drink and be tipsy, the Europeans just tried to act normal, and the Asians had lots of electronics with which to take pictures.  After eating lunch, we decided that the noise was too much and that we wanted to actually see the real Venezia.  We found some bridges and streets and alleyways that led us to the quiet part of the city, farther and farther away from Carnevale.  Our footsteps echoed across the brick as we walked into the heart of the mysterious city; it almost seemed like a crime to break the silence sometimes.  The real beauty of Venezia is not in its many houses or buildings or stores, the real beauty is in the brokenness.  Every building is not perfect; the paint is chipped, pieces of brick aren’t exactly rectangular, and the shutters aren’t perfectly even.  But in the midst of that, there are flowers.  There are flowers on the windowsills, and flowers on the balconies; there are even flowers on some of the doorsteps.  No matter how little the beauty of the surrounding buildings, the Italians try to make every tiny thing look gorgeous and cared for.  Unlike where I live, where the trailers are run down and the yards are covered in useless rusting metal, the Italians care about how their establishments look.  It’s interesting how the ugliest house can suddenly radiate welcoming rays, just by putting out a few potted flowers along the walkway.



We walked and walked and walked.  We saw children playing football (soccer), children riding scooters, young men laughing and talking with girls, lovers holding hands and gazing across the canal, business men strolling along on their way back to work.  But my favorite picture would be this one, of a little boy who was watching his father do construction in the building opposite.  The patience of a child can be completely astounding; this little one did nothing but stand there quietly and interestedly watch his father work.  Children will never cease to amaze me!




During our wanderings, we chased pigeons in honor of Mishala, took the obligatory canal pictures, found an anchor, and tried on masks. 






 After successfully getting lost for hours, Ttea and I finally found our way back to the train station at seven pm.  After getting on the train and actually having seats, four elderly people came in and we all got up so they could have our seats.  They were very surprised but I think they were glad, since they ended up sitting down.  Standing there with nothing to do for the ride back, I started to sing and Kayla, Ttea, and Alexandra joined in.  We sang every hymn we could think of and the nice Italians, to whom we gave our seats, seemed to enjoy it.  When we finished “Amazing Grace”, complete with harmony, we got applause from the next car over.  It was really cool and a very special memory that I will always have.

 As a side note, on Monday it snowed here at SBI!  Here are a few pictures to prove it ;)



If you have been reading my previous posts, you will realize this was once a happy plant until it snowed ;)


Bedtime!  Good night :)

3 comments:

  1. Perfetto! The beauty in the brokeness, the ability of a simple pot of flowers to transform....your word pictures take me there again. It's just that juxtaposition of the living, fresh flowers against the old architecture which makes both of them even more beautiful then they would be by themselves. I think it is that way with us too-God's work in us shows more brightly against they backdrop of our brokeness. "Sono una suora" I will be teaching that to your little sisters.....thanks (-:

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  2. Thanks baby! I appreciate tall the time that you use from your busy schedule to let us get a glimpse of your experiences. I told Mattea, and the same is true with you--I hear the blog being read to me by you, in your voice, as I read it! I love it, but it also makes me miss you!! Oh look, what a shocker, dad is getting misty...waa,waa,waa.

    I love the part about the elders and the singing, I could envision it all as you described it--precious!! Perhaps they did not expect American teenagers to have manners and respect...who knows, you may have begun a revolution in Italian thinking toward Americans, perhaps avoiding a trade war or an international incident! Ok, maybe not, but you touched some human lives in their waning years, and that is likely of greater import.

    I also loved the pitcher pump in the snow, it was "just perfect" somehow...

    (Oh, btw, you even make Darth Maul look good!!)

    Ti amo mia cara figlia!!

    Papa

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