bellissimi colli

ev'rybody wants to be a cat

I had some trouble sleeping, due to the heat, so I got up at 5 am and started planning our trip to Rome. I surfed the web till I found the Laterooms website (which lists discounted rates for last-minute reservations) for a double room at the Bed & Breakfast Gianicolo, a place featured in the New York Times a few years ago. By the time David woke at 7, I was already in the middle of packing. He seemed rather hesitant to make the trip until I explained that I'd already made all the plans for accommodations...then the tempo picked up.

We were at the station by 8, and took the 9 am Eurostar to Rome (which fortunately wasn't cancelled, considering that there was lo sciopero -- i.e., a train workers' strike). We had seats in first class, which was nice, but expensive, since second class had been sold out. It was lovely to have the air conditioning and the reclining seats and see bella Toscana rushing by.

When we arrived at Termini and stepped out of the train, unfortunately, we found that Rome was just as hot as Padova had been. It took me awhile to locate the bus stop for the 75, and then I was so edgy on the bus that I had us get off two stops early, which meant more walking uphill with our bags. But once we met the signora who ran the B&B, I knew everything would be fine. She was super friendly, gave us a tremendously sized room, and let me play with her kittens--three months old, half-Siamese. One was all white and extremely friendly, with a grey barred tail; the other was grey and a bit more skittish, with black tiger stripes. But both had a purr like a motor bus, and adored attention.



After settling in for a bit at the B&B, we took the bus to the Bocca della Verita and the little round temple on the Tiber, where David patiently endured my mini-lectures on Audrey Hepburn films, Greco-Roman temple design, and Roman building materials. Then, en route to the Forum along the Via del Teatro di Marcello, we peeked in at a church that had reused the columns of an earlier temple in its outer walls. A volunteer guide there gave us a tour of the remains of three temples in the basement. During the tour three more groups of tourists wandered in, so that by the end he was giving his patter in not only Italian and English, but also French and German! We wondered where he was from to have acquired such a multi-lingual background; it turned out that he was from Romania.

We continued on, walking by the Theater of Marcellus, and climbed the steps to Michaelangelo's famous flower-square, which in the more gentle light of early evening, was decorated with bride after bride taking wedding portraits. We strolled through the Capitoline Museums, which David showed a great deal more patience for than I did; when museum fatigue finally overwhelmed me, we went out and took in the sunset view over the Forum before heading back.

I had not yet managed to revive my homing instincts in Rome, unfortunately, so David helped navigate with the last hints of setting sunlight. We walked through Campo dei Fiori, and then, just a block from the Tiber, noticed a little restaurant called Il Drappo ("the drapery"--the walls and ceiling were draped in rich soft tasseled fabrics). It looked rather expensive, but I thought we might as well look at the menu, as it was out-of-the-way enough that the prices might be lower than average, and I only saw two tables of people dining. But the door was locked. We walked on.

A few paces down the road, I impulsively turned back and went and rang the bell. An immaculately dressed waiter came to answer the door, and asked if we had reservations. In my stumbling Italian (he didn't speak any English) I said no, but asked whether they were necessary. He hesitated a moment and then offered us a little table for two set with white linen and candles and a little bowl of red roses by the entrance door, or a seat in the garden outside. We immediately accepted the table inside, and sank into our chairs, exhausted.

It amazed me that he chose to let us in, especially after I went to the restroom and saw the state I was in after a long hectic day of traveling and sightseeing. But he did, and brought us water immediately, and we decided to order the tasting menu and leave the food selection in his hands. While we waited for the food to come and listened to the cheesy American pop music from the 80's that they were playing (a strange contrast with the otherwise classy decor), we began to see parties trickling in; an exclusively Italian clientele, dressed in expensive casual wear; everyone had a reservation. They seemed rather surprised to see two scraggly Americans sitting there in the entryway.

Then the food started coming. For starters there was carta della musica (a thin crispy bread, served with salsa), pizzette (little tiny fried pizzas that David claimed were basically doughnuts), and fried vegetable cakes. A very interesting white house wine arrived (we had just asked the waiter to choose). Then came the carpaccio of octopus, and the bread basket with more carta della musica, regular slices of fresh bread, and some phenomenal soft white rolls with citrus peel baked into them. Then the delicious lobster linguini, with the better part of a lobster (in pieces, in the shell) scattered over it. Then a tasty white fish (something like sole, which they brought out whole, then expertly filleted in front of us) with roasted potato slices and a rucola salad with some kind of lovely citrus dressing. Then came dessert: crema alla catalana, marzipan cookies, and myrtleberry liqueur. The last thing they brought out--the final, perfect touch--was a little bowl of rosewater with rose petals floating in it, for me to dip my fingertips into. It was just an amazing experience. I hope I can go back again sometime soon.

I wish I could say that the evening gracefully trailed off right there, but then we still had to hike back to the B&B through Trastevere (which on a Saturday night was all abuzz), and up the Gianicolo. We were both exhausted by the time we made it back, though not too exhausted to play with the kittens a bit. What a lovely evening it was!

when in Rome

I paid my usual visit to the cats at Largo Argentina:

venetian statuary

il bo and the first woman phD

8 am - Woke up & worked on manuscripts. Went back to sleep.
10:30 am - D woke up; I woke up again a half hour later.
Noon - Faxed D's documents at Mail Boxes Etc.
1 pm - Grocery shopping at Pam Supermercato.
2 pm - Back to apartment; ate; tidied.
3:30 pm - Went downtown.
4 pm - Bookstore on the Via Santo.
5 pm - Ghetto & shops; met Sasha the fluffy dog.
6 pm - Toured the U. of Padova ("Il Bo"), where the first woman to get a phD got her degree.
7 pm - Pizza dinner at Mandrillo.
8 pm - Gelato at Patagonia.
9 pm - Email etc.
1 am - Slept.

colombina

8 am - Breakfast, got news re: Social Chair!
9 am - Walked to train station, bought tix.
10 am - Train to Venice. Napped.
11 am - Explored shops en route to Ghetto; bought a mask.
Noon - Toured Ghetto, looked for Paradiso Perduto
12:45 pm - Lunch at Trattoria all'Antica Mola in Cannaregio.
2 pm - Got lost en route to the Scuola. Shopped.
4 pm - Toured the Scuola di S. Rocco & I Frari
6:30 pm - Got lost en route to San Marco. Took train home instead.
8 pm - Pizza dinner at Savonarola.
9 pm - Email etc.
1 am - Slept.

another lovely day in Italy

6:30 am - Worked on manuscript transcription; fell back to sleep.
8:30 am - D got up and read.
1 pm - I finally woke up again.
1:30 - Lunch at Bastioni del Moro.
4 pm - Back at apartment.
5 pm - Went looking for international phonecards.
6 pm - Phonecard fiasco.
6:30 pm - D's RHESSI conference call.
8 pm - Gelati at Gelateria Patagonia.
8:30 pm - Dinner at PePen.
10 pm - Shower, email, sleep.

arrival in Padova

Morning - Arrived in Venice, picked up at airport by Laura & Enrico. Napped.
1 pm - David slept. I went to lunch with L & E at E's parents' house.
3 pm - Brought D his part of the lunch. Set up the cell phone & saw L's father's rare book collection.
4 pm - Wandered around Padova "getting sun" to ward off jet lag.
7 pm - Met L & E at the Orologio. Had a spritz. Walked to the Prato della Valle.
9 pm - Dinner at Brek with L & E.
11 pm - Shower, email, sleep.

dormousy

It's very hot. I spent most of the day searching for air-conditioned places to study, and then falling asleep in them because it was too hot to sleep properly last night.

8 am - Computer lab. Supposed to be working on French. Fell asleep at desk, face in French dictionary.
10 am - Chapel service. Managed to stay awake somehow. All the standing and singing helped.
11 am - Music building lobby. Attempted to do more French. Napped for a few minutes on lobby sofa.
12 noon - Lunch. Almost fell asleep into my salad at Panera. But not quite.
1 pm - Firestone Library. Napped at study carrel, using French book as pillow.
3 pm - Firestone Library, History Grad Student Study Room. Did French (finally)!
6 pm - Porter's Lodge. Chatted with Porter. Porter commented that he knew I was really there for the air conditioning, but that he didn't mind talking with me.
8 pm - Common Room. Ate corn and chicken dinner there and chatted with Sarah about Berkeley, because it was slightly cooler there, though not air-conditioned.
11 pm - Computer Room. Hiding here. It is just too hot out there. Argh.
12 midnight - Projected Wa run for ice cream, with Sara.
1 am - Projected D-bar stop, with Sara, for the consumption of a small quantity of sleeping potion.

mascot photo shoot

I have been taking pictures of the mascot for the writing group I'm starting.

This is the photo that I'm putting on the home page:



Princeton's mascot animal is the tiger, in case you didn't know that already.

fireflies and ants

I went out into the courtyard of the OGC as the sky dimmed, since it was cooler there than in my room. I sat at Dean West's feet, leaning back against his bronzed robes, whistling Sinatra tunes to myself, watching the silent fireworks display over the grass.

The fireflies were really beautiful tonight, as if they knew I didn't have anywhere else to go for the 4th. They gave a stunning show. Now I've come back to my room, from which I can just barely hear rumbling in the distance, over the whirring of my fan.

So today the ants found me. I will have to start wearing slippers in my room, because otherwise I end up stepping on ants with bare feet--yuck--they're hard to see against the dark carpet. Nick, a theoretical chemist I met last night, says he knows of some very effective anti-ant potions and will take me to Wal-Mart sometime next week if I'm still having problems. In the meantime I have been experimenting with lavender-scented talcum powder and Calvin Klein perfume, which has greatly distressed my little black visitors.

My room smells very strongly of perfume and lavender tonight. I blame the ants, as well as the rumors I have heard that Feynman used to do behavioral studies on the ants in his room when he lived here in the GC, that spurred me on to such dastardly deeds.

It's warm and humid still, though it has been dark for awhile, and so I am eating very strong wasabi-flavored crackers in the hopes that somehow this will make me feel cooler, even if it does burn a hole in my stomach lining.

I spent the morning trying to find a building open on campus that had air-conditioning, but when I found one (the music department building) and sat down to work on my French, I promptly fell asleep. Then I went to Panera for lunch, and there the air conditioning was so strong that I started getting cold. There's just no way to win.

I really wish it were any other season but summer.

long hot walk

Today after French...well, everything I do seems to happen after French. I always mean to get out of the house early enough to run errands before class, but toss and turn, insomniac, so late that I shut off my alarm in the morning.

Today after French I made myself walk to the Princeton Shopping Center, a few miles away. I meant to go to it a few weeks ago, but everyone told me it was too far to walk. That's not true, of course. It's a walkable distance, but it's 30 minutes walking from downtown, and more like 45 minutes in the humid 80-degree heat.

I can't say the shopping center is very impressive. It looks like it was thrown together as a bunch of temporary buildings that never got torn down. The buildings were once painted white, but are now more like light grey with dirt. There are several one-story strips of stores, perhaps 30 stores in all, connected by covered cement pathways. If you are on a pathway and look up you are treated to the sight of dirty metal beams and birds' nests, and the birds all a-twitter, waiting to see if they can drop something unpleasant on your head as you walk below.

There is at least a fountain somewhere in there, at which several teenage girls were gathered, munching carrot sticks, pink pointe shoes trailing satin ribbons on the pavement beside them. I walked by, drawn by the Petco sign a little further on. I don't know how long I spent in there admiring the plump guinea pigs munching on hay, and wishing I could take home a playful ferret curling round a plastic ball, and sitting completely enthralled in front of a cage of three hazel-eyed kittens, waiting to be adopted. I wish I could keep a pet in the dorms. It would make things so much better to come home to someone who was glad to see me.

After I wrenched myself away from the kittens I walked across to Bon Appetit, the usual sort of deli I like, crowded with colorful tins and teas and overpriced sandwiches. I am just grateful that there is somewhere in Princeton I can get a prosciutto panino. Much to my surprise, the bread was wretched (a dry and crumbly baguette), but the prosciutto was very nice. I also indulged in a large piece of blackberry cobbler swimming in whipped cream, which was perhaps a bit too much for me. I sat in their table area and tried to eavesdrop on the two tables of French-speaking women nearby. Lucky for them my French is absolutely terrible.

My last stop in the shopping center was McCaffrey's, a market along the lines of Andronico's. It was a pity that I went there feeling ill from a surfeit of blackberry cobbler, and couldn't bring myself to buy any food.

I walked back slowly (it had gotten hotter) and went to Micawber Books as a treat for having made the trek out to the shopping center. I meant to get a copy of Tam Lin, but they didn't have one, so I ended up browsing instead. I bought a copy of the Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath, and took it to Small World Cafe to browse with a glass of lemonade.

The Journals are fantastic. I've never read someone else's journal which had a voice that sounded so much like my own, even Anais Nin's journal (which was my favorite until today). Nin's writing is just a bit too baroque; self-indulgent, florid and mannered. Plath's writing has the right combination of raw misery and euphoria, humor and bitterness. I would never have expected to find a piece on the sensuality of picking one's nose just a few pages away from an account of attempted rape.

She committed suicide at age 31. I just wish Ted Hughes hadn't destroyed the journal she kept right before she died. I would have liked to know what she was thinking.