Saturday, July 30, 2011

Camp Campo(galliano)

My first camp was in a tiny town called Campogalliano, which is near Modena in the upper/central part of Italy. My "host family" was actually two young teachers, Rita and Sara, room mates who worked at the school. It was sort of great because we went out and saw a bunch of free concerts and I met so many people; I sort of felt like the whole little community was taking care of me. Plus, it was nice not to have kids in the house, and I could pretty much just come and go as I pleased, although there were many late nights followed by early mornings. But you only live once, I guess, so it worked out.

I fell into my role at this camp very early on--I was the one who solved sharing problems on the swings, and who climbed a tree to jump the fence to retrieve balls that went rogue. I must've hopped that fence seven or eight times during the two weeks, and I earned bruises and scratches for my efforts. My policing of the swings wasn't quite as rigorous and over-the-fence-ball-retrieval, but still necessary. The kids never realized that, no matter what, I always told them they had two minutes to swing and then they had to change. lol

My class was a class of sixteen 10 and 11 year olds of varying English abilities. Here's a picture of some of my girls and I. They're working on making clothes for a paper-version of a class mate for body parts, clothes, and descriptions day.

The classes were split into two teams, Knights and Dragons. Here are my Knights and I in front of the banner they made the first day of camp.

The biggest struggle I had was when a kid was trying to explain something to me, and another kid would attempt to help (in Italian), and then about ten of them would all gather around me screaming in Italian when I've already gotten the message. Wow... it was... intense at times. There were just so many of them! But we had a good time, for the most part. They were super intense about their art (I don't think they get much in school), and they loved "Firework" by Katy Perry, so when we had extra time we'd put it on and dance around the room. I may or may not have gotten on a chair and used a tube of colored pencils as a microphone...

The "point" of the camp is to work towards "lo spetaccolo" or a show at the end. Each class does a little play or performance, and a couple of songs, all in English to show what they've learned. We did a play about four knights who tried to tame the King's dragons. Turns out, they were tamed with kindness (awwwww). I wrote the show myself, with some help and guidance from the kiddos, and they made their costumes and everything. The theme of camp was "Arthur and Friends" so there were lots of knights, dragons, jesters and the like around all week. Lots of swords, too, which is GREAT for 10 and 11 year old boys (and by "great" I mean horrifying!). All in all, it went well. The kids were happy and their parents were happy, so that's all that matters. Here are some of my boys and I after our performance.

My favorite memory of the camp might be the day we went swimming. There was a community pool in Campogalliano, I walked by it every day to get to camp, and one day one of the dads really wanted all of us to come swim one day after camp. We all felt sort of weird about it at first, but eventually the dad wore us down and we went. And it was really fun. Most of the kids there were in either my class or another tutor, Alison's, class. We just played volley ball with them in the water and splashed around and I think it really helped. The kiddos saw us as humans who laugh and enjoy the things that they enjoy, and they tried really hard to speak in English when we were there, even though we weren't at camp. It was cute. :)

My first free weekend in Italy happened to fall while I was working in Campogalliano, which is actually pretty centrally located. I took advantage of its location and took two day trips. One was to Bologna on Saturday, and the other was to Verona on Sunday.

Rick Steves failed me and said nothing at all about Bologna in his Italy guide, so I hopped on a train and winged it. The first thing I saw on my wander from the train station was this, which I think is the gate to the old city. Pretty cool, I thought.

My next order of business was food; I had lunch at this restaurant run by this old guy who was just adorable. There wasn't anyone else there when I sat down, which is kind of why I chose it, and I had the set menu of pasta and tomato sauce (YUM), salad and sausage, and then a coffee in true Italian lunch style. The food was plentiful and delicious, and definite fuel for an afternoon of wandering. Here's my little corner of a Bologna street.

Since I didn't really know what the "must sees" in Bologna were, although I'd read a few online, I just wandered. I saw several churches, and enjoyed wandering the covered sidewalks. One thing about Italy I fell in love with was the piazzas everywhere, and it started in Bologna. I just love a big open space, and a fountain, and some balconies and people. And that's a piazza. In one of the piazzas in Bologna, I caught this bird playing in the church windows.

As I wandered, I ended up running into and consequently befriending these two American guys, brothers from Kentucky. One was studying at a nearby university, and the other was just visiting. They were kind enough to let me tag along with them for the rest of the afternoon, and I was no longer alone.

Turns out, they had a guide book. From approximately 1974. And in this guide book (and also in what I read online) it said that we should see the Two Towers, symbols of Bologna. They are both leaning, but they are smaller, straighter, and slightly less famous than another leaning tower you may have heard of. These towers were built by nobles to exhibit wealth. Apparently back in the day you were judged by the size of your... tower. It's part of a So my new friends and I sought, and conquered, this tower. Here's a picture of the tower, leaning at about 13 degrees, I think.
You can climb it for only 3 euro a, and since there wasn't really much else to do, and it's always good for photographs to get high and see the entire city view, we climbed it. It was around 500 stairs, I think, and it was awkward because of the lean. And my giant feet and tallness. Here I am beginning the journey...

But we all made it. The guys were even taller than me, though, and had even bigger feet, so I'm sure it was even more awkward for them! We got to the top and waked around, and I took a panoramic of the lovely Bologna that awaited us there.

After the climb and a little more wandering, we had a drink together and I caught a train back to Modena, where I went out with my host sisters and ended up at a "discoteque" at, like, 1:30 in the morning with a very cute Italian boy and Rita and Sara and it was ridiculous. I hate "clubs" as a rule, and this one was no exception, but I'm glad I witnessed it once. The music was awful, and dudes tried to, like, touch me on my arm or face or whatever and I was NOT okay with it. But the mix of people there was sort of surprising--it was really a slice of life. Either way, that night was super fun, but went into the early hours. This was unfortunate because I was going to Verona early(ish) the next day with some of the other camp tutors.

We made it to Verona, only about an hour and a half away by train, and began our wander with Rick Steves as our guide. First, we took a group shot by the fountain, apparently a gift from, like, Denmark or something.

Then Rick told us to see the Roman Forum, which we did. One fascinating thing about Italy is that there's literally old crap everywhere. People dig in their backyards and find Roman coins or even ruins! So the fact that there's random Roman crap everywhere is just something you sort of get used to, strange as that may seem. So we go to the forum, and I got in a fight...

Kidding! They were kind of smelly, though. Definitely stayed away from them in Rome, let me tell you.

The real reason for going to Verona, as you can probably guess, is to see Giulietta's balcony and statue, a real refuge for lovers or nerdy English teachers like me. The wall of the entrance to her balcony area, called, shockingly, Juliet's Wall, is covered in the graffiti of people in love--which is sort of sweet, I guess. That people really believe in love, although I hope Romeo and Juliet are not their standards 'cause I'm just sayin'... it didn't really work out too well for them.

Then you enter the courtyard and see her balcony (you have to pay to go on it and it's not that serious so I opted out) and her statue, whose right breast is pretty worn down from people having touched it for good fortune. I touched it, of course, so I'm now just waiting for my good fortune to roll on in.

Also, above the embroidery shop right off the courtyard, you can go see the Juliet Club, where the people who respond to Juliet's letters work, like in the movie Letters to Juliet. No one was writing when I wandered up, which was a little disappointing, but that's fine. I saw the movie, I'm over it.

The last sight we saw in Verona was a statue of Dante Aleghiri, which is in another piazza. We ended our walk there because we were all quite tired, but it was a lovely day in beautiful Verona.
One of my favorite memories from the first camp was a night I went out for pizza with the girls, and met an old guy named, I kid you not, Guido. He spoke only Italian, but somehow he and I understood each other; I understood him better than I understand some people whose first language is English, which gives me pause. He actually took me on a tour of Modena, and I got quite a bit out of his explanations. Plus, he was obsessed with taking pictures and took all of the necessary shots as we walked around the town. He is a bus driver/photographer/friend of everyone, and he even bought me coffee before camp on a couple of mornings. He also bought me three post cards from Campogalliano, on which were featured his photographs. He is my new Italian BFF, and I only wish I could've actually spoken to him more.

Another memory was the night I came back "home" at 2:45 am (don't worry--I was making good choices) to find Rita cooking pasta, and I was so hungry and so happy I just couldn't even deal. So we all ate pasta at 3 in the morning--Rita, Sara, Cute Italian Boy, Cute Italian Boy's twin brother, and I, a mish-mash of new friends, sharing food and memories at 3 am. Perfect. :)

There's this line in a song by Adele called "Hometown Glory" where she says: "The people I've met are the wonder of my world." That's how I feel about Italy--everyone I met, for a moment or for a month, was just such an essential part of my experience there. Each person who tried to speak English, each foreigner who befriended me for even a few minutes, each local who smiled at me or helped me or fed me, was a blessing. And I couldn't be more grateful.

For a full album of pictures from my time in Campogalliano, Modena, Bologna, and Verona, click here.

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Thursday, July 28, 2011

The Italy Saga Begins!

I got home only two days ago from six amazing weeks in Italy. I still can't believe all of the things I saw, and the people I met, and the places I went, and the food I ate... It really was a dream. I am so blessed to have been able to do it.

It wasn't all pasta and paintings, though. I arrived in Nice on time, but my luggage didn't. When I got to France, my luggage was still at JFK in New York. I'd had my luggage lost only once before, and it was when I was going to Michigan so it wasn't a huge deal--I had clothes. But this time... I at least had the forethought to pack extra undies, a toothbrush, my insulin, and a towel in my carry on, but the luggage also took FOUR DAYS to show up, mostly because some idiot delivered it to the wrong place. The day I got it... I can't even tell you. It was a happy day. I'd had to resort to washing the three pairs of underwear I had in the sink, and trying to dry it over the heat of the gas stove in our room at training. Lovely.

I was fine with all of it--borrowing basic necessities, wearing the same clothes, not having makeup or a hair brush, for the first two days and then... day three I just had a break down. I think I deserved it, at that point. I finally went into town and bought some essentials--razor, deodorant, a new dress--so that I could feel somewhat human again. My suitcase came the next day, and British Airways is going to owe me some money.

So I arrived in Nice and there were two adorable Scottish girls waiting for me at the airport. We all headed to the hostel together, and then headed out to meet another girl, and have a wander around. We saw these amazing yachts by the water, had a little bite to eat, and enjoyed being in Europe. We stopped to have a glass of wine, and another guy met us there. We formed a little posse, I guess, and had a lovely dinner in Nice. I ate rabbit (which I enjoyed a great deal!) and had this awkward dessert that no one could really figure out but was good. We had a wander back to our respective places to stay, and saw these guys, who changed colors and just basically looked cool. I thought they were Buddahs, but, in the light, they're really just dudes sitting on platforms, chillin' and changing colors. No purpose for them was determined, as far as I can figure, except that they looked cool.

The next day, we all met up again at the train station to take a train into Italy for training in San Remo. This was my first view of Italy, which I thought was strangely beautiful, and, it turns out, appropriate. There was quite a bit of graffiti in Italy.

This was what we left behind in Nice, though. But I knew I'd have some time at the end of my adventure to experience it again.

By the time we actually got to training, we had gathered quite a group and even found two more Miami chicks, who ended up being my room mates for the week, and my co-workers at the camp, which was awesome. Another thing that was semi-awesome, was not having to carry luggage. I only had my small backpack, and not my huge one (still lost at this point!), so getting on and off trains and busses was a breeze. I even helped one hapless member of the posse with his six bags in return for him fulfilling a dream and giving me a pair of socks at the train station.

Training itself was great, although we began each morning at 8 am with half an hour of camp songs, which were addictively annoying and would get stuck in our heads perpetually. The people I met were from all over the English-speaking world--America, Scotland, Ireland, Australia, New Zealand, England, Wales, and, of course, Canada. We spent our mornings singing, and our afternoons learning what camp was all about. We had tons of time to plan, learn games, and prepare for what was to come. Then, of course, at night we'd play.

One night there was a talent show and booty shaking contest. Of course, I use the term "contest" loosely, since there was very little competition involved. All I every do is win, basically. lol. You can see from the picture below that my competitor was mystified by my booty shaking abilities...

Clearly, I am awesome. And my acceptance speech was one for the history books--if only it'd been recorded. It's a shame, really. But that night was really fun, just this chilling beach party with, like, 70 new friends and this crazy orange moon that I still think about. I tried to take a picture of it, but the photo does not even begin to really do it justice--a theme I found throughout my sojourn in Italia. Here's a little taste of what it looked like... but it was so much bigger and more beautiful and perfect than this can show.

Later in the evening, after talents had been shown, booties had been shaken, drinks had been imbibed, and moons had gone back to normal, there was a little beach sing along, followed by a game of telephone played in the parking lot at 3 am. The sing along made me extremely happy; I'd been longing for one since I saw the magical combination of a guitar and a beach. For me, the sing along part was minimal because I was starting to lose my voice at this point, but it was perfect anyway. It was just one of those pure, perfect memories that I'll think about for years to come and remember why I travel and what life's really about.

There are two more significant training stories I want to relay. One was the quest for Golden Jesus, seen here on top of the church in the town near where we trained.

A group of four of us gathered and attempted to quest for the Jesus. We asked for directions from those who had seen it, and, thinking we knew what we were doing, we set out. We walked... and walked... and walked, and eventually we climbed up the side of a hill (literally climbing up) to a bike path which we thought would lead us to Jesus, only to discover that it didn't. Soon, we were on the other side of a giant brick wall, the side opposite of Jesus. After this point, and after turning around a couple of times before this point, we decided to stop our quest. In all honesty, I'm not even sure Golden Jesus was real--it may have been a mirage. Or maybe He's like the Holy Grail of King Arthur days--we were not pure enough of heart to find it. Whatever the reason or reality, it was still a nice walk and a funny memory.

The last training story took place on Friday, everyone's last day together before departing to our camps the next morning. A few of us went out for pizza because the dinners at training got... repetitive. I couldn't bear the thought of eating more pasta, mostly because my voice was completely gone at this point, and I was certainly incubating some sort of disease;I felt like crap and pizza sounded better than a bowl of pasta. My mom says whatever sounds good when your sick is what you should eat, so I joined the group for pizza. I'm so glad I did because it ended up being really cool. Not only were the people I ate with awesome company, but the guy who owned the shop came to talk to us. We actually sounded quite alike, because my voice was gone and he'd had his voice box removed due to, I think, cancer. He came and sat with us and just chatted away, and I discovered that I could understand Italian better than I thought, probably because of the Spanish I know. He spoke to us of his family, and where we were all going the next day, and he was a really sweet man. He also gave us lemoncello, a pretty famous Italian drink that tastes sort of like PineSol with a little more lemon, but almost in a good way. Almost. Still, I'm glad I tried it, and had a lovely meal with lovely people.

The next morning, we all parted ways to head to our camps in various parts of Italy. Mine was in Campogalliano, near Modena (which you may not have heard of) or Bologna. We had a staff of seven, so the camp was pretty large but... more on that later.

For the full album of pictures from training on Facebook, click here.

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