A Sunday look-at-oneself in the mirror and other curiosities

Last week, as I mentioned earlier, I encountered this painting firsthand at the Pinacoteca Ambrosiana.  In the somewhat cavernous galleries of the collection, there we find Caravaggio's Basket of Fruit, lit up like the gem it already is, begging us to touch it even though the old security guard is breathing down our inquisative necks.  I, of course, didn't touch it and didn't have to.   It's beauty, luminosity and clarity really took my breath away, reaffirming my tempestuous love affair with Caravaggio.

Later at home, doing extensive research on him (on wikipedia) I found out how old he was when he painted this masterpiece.  Not the 50-something like I expected, not even 30-something.  He was 24 years old.  Twenty four.  Two four.  ie: My age.  How can someone be such a master of something at such a young age?  What did I do wrong?  Is being a master of something even on my horizon?  On anyone's horizon?  I'm not expecting answers, but if you do perchance have one or two, I'm all ears.

A sojourn in the classroom



As most of you know, along with studying Italian, I've been supporting myself by teaching English.  I've been enjoying it more that I expected, and although at times draining, hunger-inducing and mind-knumbing, I'm wondering why I haven't been doing it longer.

Sometimes my students really make me laugh, and although it's wrong to laugh at their mistakes or when they say something funnily, I just can't help it.  Thankfully Italians are very easy to laugh themselves.  I have a group of students on Saturday mornings that are all about eight years old.  No one in the school wants to teach them, but they really make me laugh, so I take them gladly.  Especially since I have to teach the class in Italian, I get my ample share of being laughed at.

It can be humbling at times, though, humble for whom I don't know, but when I'm correcting a Milanese man who owns a multi-million euro company, I can't help but feel a bit sympathic for him.  Here I am, 25 years old, correcting his "I don' will know when to happen," where by day he is in control of hundreds of people around the world.

Last night, I was playing a group activity with basic-intermediate English, with the group divided into two teams.  They had to complete simple sentences, "I was brought up..." what's the past participle of 'buy,' spell "proficient," etc etc.  The turn was to a dark, Sicilian security guard, very manly with a very strong resemblence to Jon Lovitz.  I asked:  "I used to be...?"

After one minute of silence he responded:

"I used to be... blonde."

I seriously almost peed my pants I was laughing so hard, and the whole class was on the floor with me, including the serious Russian with the Hermes bag who never smiles.  Moments like that, stupid as they are, really make everything worth it.

Image: NYPL

Suzanne Jongmans

...So that her highborn kinsman came

And bore her away from me,

To shut her up in a sepulchre

In this kingdom by the sea....

-'Annabel Lee,' Poe

Some Poe to accompany gorgeous photographs by Dutch artist, Suzanne Jongmans.  Vermeer would be proud.  For more, please go heerwarts

Se una notte d'inverno un viaggiatore

Sometimes you need to give a book a second chance, just like anything else.  When I first read 'If on a Winter's Night a Traveller,' it was the middle of the summer in Rhode Island.  With good reason I had a hard time getting through it.  In fact it lay unfinished on my shelf for years.  Now that I'm here in Italy, in country that at this very moment has no government, the book couldn't be more perfect.  This book celebrates the reader, reading, books and everything exciting about the written word.  It also celebrates the confusion of living in Italy.  'You' the reader find a book, but unfortunately after finishing it's first chapter realize it's unfinished.  When you start another, that book also changes after the first gripping chapter.  And so on and so on.  Confusing?  Of course, but Calvino so brilliantly writes 10 first chapters in completely different styles, each capturing you in it's pages.  I think I appreciated it so much because it reminded me of everyday life here.  For everything thing you apply for, with seemingly perfect papers in hand, always leads to a chase for something missing.  I really loved this book, and as my friend Anzie is proof, you don't need to be in Italy to love it...but it helps.

A nice quote about the joy of reading, for you dear readers always stuck in a book:

In other words, it's better for you to restrain your impatience and wait to open the book at home.  Now. Yes, you are in your room, calm; you open the book to page one, no, to the last page, first you want to see how long it is.  It's not too long, fortunately.  Long novels written today are perhaps a contradiction: the dimension of time has been shattered, we cannot love or think except in fragments of time each of which goes off along in its own tragectory and immediately disappears.

Beatrice d'Este

Duchessa di Milano, Ambrogio di Predis

A brief glimpse of what I found the other day at the Pinacoteca Ambrosiana.  An amazing gallery and library started in 1618 by Cardinale Borromeo, it also houses a huge collection of Leonardo's works, including the Codex Atlanticus.  On display in an ancient room filled with books you can't help but be impressed by Leonardo's brilliance.  Maybe it's just me but I always sort of pass by Leonardo, 'Oh yes, Mona Lisa, The Last Supper, I know I know' but seeing all of his detailed astronomical sketches, his neat but illegible notes, made me want to know so much more about him.  How many times, I wonder, have I missed an opportunity to learn about him?  I'm determined to discover more about him, and also Cardinale Borromeo and his clan, the Visconti family, and the Sforzas.  It's hard to walk down a street in Lombardy and not pass something owned, built or conquered by these three families.  Even my header: The Isole Borromeo (above) are still owned by the Borromeo family!

Dove sei!?

What's my excuse for not blogging?  There are too many to count!  But in order to not sound repetitive and dull, we move on.  Not only is my new apartment warm, cozy, overlooking a courtyard of trees, but it has the internet which means regular blog posts will be the norm.

I wish I could say my life has been filled with days shopping Via Spiga, enjoying an aperitivo on the Navigli, then enjoying a dinner of prawns, Emma Recchi-style at Cracco Peck but it has all been much less glamorous.  Just now, things have finally settled down and I seem to be able to breath.  New job, new school, new responsibilities, endless paperwork and new apartment all equaled one big headache, but it's pretty much all taken care of now, and I can now enjoy myself.

Milan is one of those cities where you find something new and beautiful everyday.  Unlike Rome, Venice or Florence where the beauty is all upfront and ready to see, you have to look for it in Milan.  On a daily basis I find a new stunning courtyard to peak into, I hear about another museum or church I must visit, or pass by a new pasticcieria where a brioche filled with chocolate cream is waiting for me.  It's a rainy day today, only the beginning of a rain-filled winter, but it adds to the Gothic feel of it.  (Being one who terminally looses umbrellas, though, not so romantic) There are so many things I want to see, and not just in Milan.  Scattered around the city are great little towns filled with hidden gems, and with my monthly All Lombardy Pass, I'm going to try and explore as many as possible.  Won't you join me?

The rain has abated a bit, I'm going to run to the store to buy a drying rack for my clothes, and some tea and eggs!

Eccomi

Maurguerite Burnat-Provins, Confiance

Ciao tutti!  Vivo! 

Sorry for the delay in posting, but alas! moving to another country is never easy.  This time seems to be especially trying as I'm staying for a long time and getting all my paperwork in within a short time has been near impossible.  You who have been here understand the glass windows, the evil government workers, the endless lines to nowhere, etc. etc.  The positive side is I feel much more confident with my Italian, which helps me be a bit more assertive even able to crack a joke with the lady taking care of my Permesso di Soggiorno which went over well.  I'm also forcing myself to be independant, refusing to beg my Italian friends for their assistence.

There is so much I want to share, but it will come with time but for a few hints we will first be discussing my Italian class, my landlord with a glass eye, Maurizio, my new job, where I've been living this month and soon to move: the Bat Cave and the Milanese.  But all with time.

I've been able to get some great shots of some people and places and a few minutes ago when I tried to upload the photos from my camera, just realized I didn't back the cord that connects to the USB.  Quelle Nightmare!  Can I buy one in a store or do I have to get someone to send me mine from home?