up and down the bridges

I walked in “Su e Zo per i Ponti” (Up and Down the Bridges) today with the group Quarantenni per Venezia. It’s a measure of my devotion to things local that I did not run screaming from this people-packed event. The calli and ponti were just crammed. We came to a standstill quite a bit. But it’s good fun to walk the city in a deliberate way with a bunch of Venetians. And — because my wagon is hitched to a star — I got to enjoy “winning” the prize for the group with the largest number of registrants. So, 40xVenezia won a large trophy cup and an extraordinary porcelain rendering of the giganti. (Of the latter, here are thumbnails of the  porcelain and the original, for comparison.)

The highlight of the morning for me (if I may betray my geekiness) was when one of the organizers of our group handed me her digital SLR to take photos of the award presentation. I am now obsessed with the idea of getting a real digital camera — a serious one. Completely inappropriate obsession at this juncture, but there you are. This too shall pass. Since I handed the camera back eventually, I haven’t seen the photos. In other words, I can’t even verify that they are brilliant, that the proper tool unlocks my real photographic potential. These images taken with a serviceable little macchina will have to suffice.

The full slide show is here:

Su e Zo

large, midwestern city

chicago 2008

sunshine and starry skies!

What a great thrill that the sun finally came out about 4:30 this afternoon.  The weather has been positively offensive at best this week, so I’m thankful for the couple of hours of sunshine I got to share with my guests.  My fingers are tightly crossed that tomorrow will remain clear.  The only obligatory item on our itinerary is the fire station (John’s a fire fighter, and there’s a tradition of visiting other fire stations and trading badges…etc, etc).  Otherwise we may just ride the vap all day, since their pass is good through tomorrow night about 10pm.  

visitors from home

I’m thoroughly enjoying having Amy and John here for a week.  They’ve got an apartment close to Campo Santa Margherita, very convenient to groceries and hip places to spritz.  The weather is not cooperating — high forties and rainy.  I’m a little righteously indignant that the sun is scheduled to come out only on the day they leave.  We’re having a ball, nonetheless.

where am I?

We’re having a glorious spate of sunny days, and the city is suddenly different.  It’s not just that I’ve spent most of the last month at home (there, I’ve said it).  There’s a slate-gray flatness to Venetian winter.  Sunshine is to this city as varnish is to fine wood.  It brings out the texture, the depth, the grain, the color.  Animates it.  Gives it life.

Preparations for carnevale are also underway.  I knew this, of course.  Confetti has dotted the sidewalks more and more since New Years — like crocus heralding spring.  The passarelle for aqua alta are disappearing.  And the mask-shop saturation has cranked up a notch.  But I didn’t anticipate market stands (?) in Campo S. Stefano.  And, frankly, I’m a little alarmed that there’s a crepe stand in the little campo on our side of the Accademia bridge.  Somehow that crosses an invisible, psychological line for me.  This is liable to be more crowded and literally carnival-like than I anticipated.

Singing in choir

Thanks to my friend N., I’m now singing in a local choir and am having a blast.  The music is easy: a handful of contemporary Italian Christmas pieces and Britten’s Ceremony of Carols.  The singers are all adult women studying voice at a local music school.  Most of them don’t have much musical experience and several brought recorders to the rehearsal so they can practice at home with the recording.  A smaller group of more experienced singers is performing the Britten.  From a social and cultural standpoint, this is great stuff.  I’ve met some really interesting women, and it’s fun to sing modern, everyday Italian.  It’s also great to hear an entire rehearsal run in Italian.  I never thought of all the musical words I *don’t* know in Italian — especially the terms for note values.  And it’s fascinating that they use a “fixed-do” system of solfege to navigate the music, even in an ensemble of inexperienced singers.  Note names (C, D, E, etc.) aren’t used, only solfege syllables (do, re, mi, etc.).  Interesting.  I smiled to myself when I realized the conductor wasn’t saying C-flat but “si”-flat, i.e. B-flat.

I knew the Britten was in English, and was looking forward to being a mother tongue speakers in the group, for once.  My choir in Chicago always has a ringer or two every year — a visiting German or French person who becomes the pronunciation authority for works in those languages.  Not knowing the Britten, I didn’t realize that the texts are old — medieval and renaissance English.  Now, I’ve studied Chaucer in Middle English and have had my share of experience with choral pronunciation issues…but do we even want to TRY to be “authentic?”  The whole pronunciation can ‘o’ worms opened up yet again, and I’m left shrugging my shoulders when the other women nudge me and ask how to pronounce X.  Rats.

new digs and Goldoni

The big news is that I’ve moved. While there were many plusses to the living situation I arranged over the summer, the minuses won out in the end. Physically, the new place is not so far distant from the old one (am now right behind La Fenice, the opera house), but in every other sense, I am light years away. Will miss the adorable baby and tiny doggie, but otherwise: whew. An enormous kitty — Nando — visits here on a daily basis, traipsing to the kitchen window via adjacent roofs, so my pet fix is covered.

Two nights ago I lucked into tickets to Teatro Goldoni. With another dottoranda I met at the Marciana, I saw Goldoni’s La famiglia del Antiquario (The Antiquarian’s Family). What a treat to actually see a play by Goldoni, about whom I’ve read so much. Even better, I was given the tickets by subscribers who have fabulous, second row seats. I can’t remember the last time I could actually see performers’ faces. And “go me” — I understood the whole show. Not 100%, but still… I’m pretty pleased.

join the club

As a congenitally shy person, I’m finding this expanding network of friendly connections fascinating. On Tuesday, at the gathering that G’s mom invited me to, a woman who makes documentary films invited me to a screening that took place tonight. The music of Olga Neuwirth plays a large part in this short documentary (Impossible Venice), so she was quite excited to hear the opinion of a musician. (That was flattering. I resisted the temptation to really share…in English…the full extent of my rich, complex take on her wonderful film. Did my best with the Italian I have. Go me!)

Turns out this screening was hosted by the Compagnia de Calza «I Antichi» – Venezia. I didn’t know there was a revival of the compagnie della calza (which started in the 15th century). The modern incarnation has weekly meetings which center around poetry readings, visiting speakers (scholars, journalists, etc.), themed dinners, and local festivities (like San Martino). It’s very, very local, and very, very culturally and historically keyed. So I joined. They’re having a reading of Manzoni this month. Can Leonardo Giustinian be far behind? (Hint, hint.)

Rome, gondola, yadayada, and finally… work

 

2007 october part 3

The orientation for my grant program was great. Met many fascinating people, both American and Italian. Saw the fabulous American Academy in Rome — sunny, spacious rooms, lush lawn overlooking all of Rome, birds gently singing. It’s enough to make you forget that you nearly bought the farm contending with insane morning traffic getting there. Toured the fabulous modern art housed at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs — a rich collection of sculpture, textiles, paintings, installations, and furnishings, most of which are on loan, housed in a severe, fascist brick of a building. (All the people were very nice, though. And our tour guide was really fantastic: both an engaging speaker and a real diplomat.) For me the day was also punctuated by two bouts of bus-sickness (aka “mal di mare”), only one of which was nearly, um, problematic.

That one-day whirlwind was followed by a day spent with a friend from home. M and I saw the cats at Piazza Argentina, went into the Pantheon (it never gets old), had gelato (which also never gets old), and went to see the catacombs of S. Callisto, out on the Via Appia. After my triumphant performance at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs — where I understood the entire tour in Italian save two words near the end — the Italian-language tour of the catacombs was a reminder that, well, I’m not fluent. The deadpan, fast-talking, Roman-inflected tourguide only added to the experience, though. Big thanks to ML and C for letting me crash in their room for the night.

Catching cold on the way back from Rome meant that instead of careening into my actual work and hitting the library on Thursday and Friday, I was at home in bed. I mean all day both days, save an unsuccessful foray to the bank (talk about banker’s hours…) and a successful trip to the pharmacy (see previous post).

Finally this morning I got to the Marciana early and got a good day’s work in. Started making a dent in the list of manuscripts that I want to take a look at, even as I added to that list while waiting for my requests. Right now, I’m focusing on poetry collections (thus chapters 2 and 4 of the would-be dissertation) and am trying to look at as much material as possible so I’ll know what to focus on a little later.

I have no library pictures to share. I did, however, document my early-morning gondola ride which I took on the Sunday I left for Rome. My friend G (the gondolier) was taking out two apprentices for a lesson, and he very kindly asked if I’d be interested in coming along for the ride. Aside from the inherent interest of seeing this city from the water — and the just plain COOL factor of being an invited guest — it was so interesting to see the craft of voga alla veneta (Venetian rowing) being taught. We were almost run-over by a vaporetto just the other side of the Rialto Bridge, near the Fondaco dei Tedeschi, but came out unscathed. Many thanks to G and his students for letting me hang out!

Pics of some of these adventures can be found in the web album, linked above. (I think one or two is actually interesting. Any guesses?)

Lovena, the most beautiful bookshop in the world, etc.

I’m feeling a bit better — sleeping 20 hours a day can do wonders, as can having a perfect capp and a tramezzino.

I can report that Massimo works in the afternoons at Lovena, so I’ll go back in a bit to pass along the saluti of a certain venessiana. For those who don’t know, Lovena is a coffeeshop in Piazza S Marco. I went there around 10:20 this morning, contemplating going to mass at 10:30 (when the Cappella Marciana sings). Thought better of it…frankly I still felt a bit dizzy and weak…so I set out to get some cash and some food.

Browsed a bit in ‘The most beautiful bookshop in the world’ — which now has an old gondola right in the middle of the shop and a brand new litter of kittens in the back. Saw a brand new (March 07) Venetian-English dictionary (C, did you tell me about this already?). No, I can’t remember the author’s name.

Then to campo zanipolo for a tramezzino and a chat with the barista. He told me that the refreshing-looking drink was Campari and ice ’shakerato’ (shaken), so… much stronger than it looked, and impressively strong for 11am. Ah Venice.

On the way home I had the good fortune of running into Gio’s parents. They are such sweethearts, and seeing them let me have my own ‘Ciao!’ and kisses, just like everyone else in town. (Everyone else not toting a camera and a map, that is.)