(This is an excerpt from Joseph Shepard's complete daily adventures... You can read the whole story by clicking on 'read more' at the end of the post.)
How do you get lost in such a small town? I’m not sure, but somehow, the three of us figured it out. We knew that the whole group was meeting….someplace…but we had no clue where. We double backed to where the bus dropped us off, since there was a bar attached to the bus terminal. That definitely wasn’t it. Carl tried to call Dr. Caputo to try and get more information, but the first time was nothing but Italian jumble that he didn’t understand. After a couple more minutes of head scratching a bug swatting, Carl tried again. Success! Turns out, we were meeting at a pizzeria “on top of the hill” at 8:00, roughly ten minutes from then. Thankfully, we weren’t left behind. Unfortunately, we still didn’t really know where that was. One thing led to another, and we all met up, joined the class, and made it to the “welcome to Cagli” pizza night. Leave it to me to forget the name of the restaurant as I sit and write this, but that begs the question: what matters more, the place or the experience? My gut says it is the experience with my classmates that is more important, but would that have even taken place in a different restaurant, or city, or country? I’m starting to delve towards the ideas of paradoxes and philosophy, and that is a completely different topic for a completely different time.
Day 1
As long as the flights were, I really feel bad for my
classmates that had to fly from the west coast. They had longer days than me.
Turns out, there is another student still stuck in Frankfurt, Germany. All of a
sudden, I don’t feel so bad. Still grungy, still rough around the edges, but
not so bad.
I'm getting ahead of myself.... I'm still kinda jet lagged
and loopy.... and a little buzzed after dinner.
All of the flights were pretty much on time. Sure, there
were minor delays, but I can handle ten minutes instead of a few hours. From
5:45 on, things went well. Made the flight to Atlanta, then made my way to the
international flight area and made the long flight to Amsterdam (I tried to
sleep, but those small pillows just don't get the job done), then made my way
through the airport (got my first stamp on my passport!) to the flight to
Florence. I was close to stopping and having a Heineken, but I had bigger
priorities. I think all told, it was 18 hours to get from Portland to Florence.
I was all grubby and out of it by the time I landed.
They didn't lose my luggage! Yay!!!
Walked through the arrival area to the place where the taxis
are already waiting. I know a little Italian...enough to get by. “Ciao, Hotel
Athenaeum? Grazi!” Some of the city is a bit run down, like any big metro.
Downtown, close to where I'm staying? WOW. Some of the buildings, the
cathedrals, and the architecture is amazing. Some of the places are so big that
my smart phone doesn't fit it all. It really is incredible. Culture shock
didn’t really hit me when I was walking in the terminals. To me, an airport is
still just an airport, regardless of which country it is located in. But, walk
out the door and take a drive around town, it is a totally different story. It
was bordering culture shock, until the cab driver drove by a billboard
featuring new Chuck Taylor shoes. American culture really does spread, doesn’t
it?
Everybody in the class got together for orientation, just to
introduce ourselves and chat about the program. We all then walked to a
restaurant for a traditional four course Italian dinner. I think I ate my own
weight and drank enough vino to wind up in a stupor, but all the starch and
water evens it out. I might not have to eat again for a while, but with my “see
food” diet, I will probably gorge again pretty soon. Started with simple bread
with water and wine.... then a big appetizer, then a big meal of pasta, then a
big meal of meat (chicken, sausage, ribs), then fresh Italian pizza (it's ok,
but a bit thin for my taste), then tiramisu. People were actually stunned at
how much I could put down, especially for a skinny runner. But hey, nothing
gets between a runner and plate of pasta, right? The whole meal took about two
or three hours, and I've never had so much wine in my life all at once. I’m
usually a beer drinker, but with natural vino everywhere you look, I’m not
going to hesitate to try something new. Once we finally left, we all took the
long walk back to the hotel, this time a little slower.
Facebook and Google gave me a bit of a hard time to log into
from the hotel, because all of a sudden, I'm signing in from an entirely
different hemisphere. I had to go through additional security steps so I could
confirm it was really me. No big deal. Culture shock? Not in my opinion. Is
“culture curve ball” a thing? If it isn’t, it should be.
I think we will do more touristy sightseeing stuff tomorrow,
and then go into the actual "school work" part on Wednesday. God only
knows how many pictures I'm going to take.... or how much I'm going to weigh
when I get home. I'm not worried; I'll just run it off.
That about sums it up for Day One.
Day 2
I’m half tempted just to include a photo of Il Duomo (the
Florence Cathedral) at sunset to sum up my experience for the second day here,
but that would feel a bit like cheating. Certainly, there is more to Florence,
Italy than the skyline at sunset, no matter how beautiful it is. Perhaps some
extra details and perspectives would be helpful.
We are all still in the “honeymoon” stage of this adventure.
Soon enough, the rose colored glasses will come off, but I’m certain a lot of
us are looking forward to that part, that way, we can focus on why we are
really here. Still getting to know everybody, but we are all getting along well.
Ages may differ, past experiences may differ, our progress in the COML program
may differ, but the wide-eyed excitement unites us all. We are all here, ready
to learn, explore, and enjoy it all. Come whatever may, the energy is
infectious. I try to keep calm, cool, and collected, but believe me, I’m
getting a great kick so far.
For most of the day, I thought the big highlight was walking
through the Uffizi Gallery, and opening myself up to priceless works of art
that were created on this earth centuries before I ever showed up. There were
much more than just American students and local Italians touring the museum.
Multiple nationalities speaking a multitude of different languages all around
me were gazing upon the work here. It can be a bit overwhelming, but again, I’m
trying to stay calm, cool, and collected. It may be a subconscious defense
mechanism, but when I am in a situation like that, where it is pure situation
overload, my brain tends to shut down. I don’t know if it is “flight or fight,”
but I seemed to block it all out and focus only on a few things. That might be
the exact opposite of what this program is trying to accomplish, but that’s
just how my mind works at times. The statues and the pieces are incredible. The
written word may not capture the history and the impact these pieces of work
created, but many throughout history have tried. And now, so have I.
I would have been content with that. But in a city and
country with as much history as this one, the next thrill is only a few steps
away. After a walking trip along the Anon River, we arrived at Piazzale
Michelangelo. I’m probably spelling this wrong, but the spirit is what counts.
The view of the Florence skyline from this hilltop was unlike anything I’d ever
seen. I did my best to take as many good photos, especially with the sun
setting. To be fair to myself, some of them came out really well, in my humble
opinion. The magnificence of a setting sun over Il Duomo cannot be captured
with any piece of technology, no matter how advanced. It can only be captured
with the heart.
There are two theories in life about romance: one is
general, and the other is personal. The first, the general theory, is that
Paris is the world’s most romantic city, and the Eiffel Tower is the world’s
most romantic location. The second, my personal theory, is that the best place
for me to propose to a significant other, if/when that day comes, is at Inn by
the Sea in Cape Elizabeth, Maine, close to home. Knowing what I know now about
Il Duomo, both theories are false. Maybe I’m wrong; beauty is in the eye of the
beholder, after all. But as I looked around at the people there, it wasn’t just
the local Italians and us. There were many other tour groups from many
different countries and cultures, and we had all descended onto that one spot.
That place, at that time. A scene like that transcends language, countries, or
culture. Where you come from, what your education level is, your ethnicity, and
whatever name you call God, it all melted away into Anon River with the
Florence sunset.
The night ended with an outdoor dinner at a local restaurant
in Florence with two classmates. When I ordered a simple calzone for the day’s
final meal, I learned that the surprises hadn’t finished. I knew going in that
the food here would be amazing, but again, I tried to just shrug it off and go
with it. Act like you’ve been there before, right? Wrong. I wound up with a
four cheese and pepperoni calzone roughly the size of my head placed in front
of me, with a local brew to wash it all down with. I wasn’t the only one
surprised; Allison and Shae’lyn were just as surprised as I was. Nothing gets
between a runner and meal loaded with carbs, and I’m not one to back down from
any challenge. One flavorful bite after the other, I savored my meal with gusto.
When the plate was finally cleaned off, I wasn’t all that surprised. I’ve been
known to engorge some hefty plates in my time (I have a strong metabolism to
thank for that). Allison and Shae’lyn, on the other hand, had the same look of
shock on their faces as when the calzone was first set down in front of me.
Maybe I’m a bit of an oddball, but I took pride in that. It’s always fun to
surprise people.
A successful day two.
Day 3
There are more than a few sayings and clichés in the United
States Air Force. “Hurry up and wait” is one, but that one can be applied to
each branch of the military. Another one is “adapt and overcome.” For better or
worse, we started Day 3 with both. Due to a communication breakdown, the bus
that was set to take us from Florence to Assisi, and then Cagli thought the
trip was the following day, and it wasn’t there when we all went to the hotel
lobby.
Whoops.
There we were, all ready to go on the next step of our
journey, and we couldn’t. Hurry up and wait! Arrangements were made, but the
class had to stay in the lobby for an extra two hours. Adapt and overcome! We
all seemed to take it fairly well. It gave most of the class to chat with each
other, learning about who we all are, where we come from, our goals, family,
and anything else that came to mind. A few people tried to get some more sleep.
Me? I started reading a new book called “See No Evil,” by former CIA officer
Robert Baer. I brought along three of his books (“Sleeping With the Devil” and
“The Devil We Know” are the other two), and I wasn’t sure how much time I’d get
to be able to read any of them. A chunk of time like the bus delay helped.
Again, adapt and overcome.
To say the streets in Italy are narrow is a bit of an
understatement. The full size trucks we have in America wouldn’t do so well
here. It may explain why the Fiats and BWMs here are so small. They are
probably pretty efficient cars, come to think of it. Aside from ambulances, the
largest cars I’ve seen are Jeeps Liberties and Renegades, dependable mid-size
SUVs. So when the bus to take us away from Florence arrived and parallel parked
across from the hotel (and causing a minor traffic buildup behind it), I was
stunned. The driver did an amazing job, and not a car on the road got even a
dent. I felt like I needed to take some lessons on how to park once I get home
in a few weeks. Ironically, us being behind schedule helped a couple of young
men get on a bus on time. I guess they thought they’d miss their pickup, and
when the traffic included another bus, it gave them extra time to run after it.
We all got a good kick out of it. Had to be there.
The bus ride to get to Assisi was, well, interesting. I get
motion sickness, so I couldn’t read that much. I was able to get in a quick
nap, at least until one of our fellow travelers got his hands on the bus microphone
and jolted me back to reality. I wasn’t too pleased being woken up, I never am,
but in a way I’m glad he did. I was able to see a lot of the country side
during the drive to Assisi. The trees were lush with green, ancient castles
were well within sight from the highway, and the lake we passed looked like the
perfect place to spend the summer months. For some reason, a lot of it reminded
me of home. New England foliage can be breathtaking, and I did spend of a lot
of time in my youth at my grandfather’s home on Little Sebago Lake. It was a
connection that instantly put me at ease.
Despite the long delay, we were all making the best of it.
Then, the bus stopped in the middle of the highway. Turns
out, it was as far as that particular bus was going to take us, and another
charter was going to take us the rest of the way to Assisi and Cagli. So there
we were, unloading all of our gear out of the bus, standing around on the
highway, waiting some more. Hurry up and wait. Here we go again. Adapt and
overcome.
Our second bus arrived, and off we go into the wild blue
yonder.
The primary mission: visit the tomb of St. Francis and pay
our respects.
Wait, what?
We’re visiting the tomb of a saint?
I’m not dreaming this, am I?
What do I do? How do I do this? Where am I going? Hopefully
I was calm, cool, and collected, but my mind was racing about a thousand miles
an hour. I figure I could at least have a bite to eat, regroup, make sure
culture shock didn’t take hold of me too tightly, and just do what the rest of
us was doing: taking it all in.
The scenery in Assisi was incredible, just an endless sea of
green. No wonder Italy made sure that green was featured on their flag. We were
continually reminded that if St. Francis knew that a massive church was built
on top of him, he’d be rolling over in his grave. Seems like he had no say in
the matter. On the other hand, our current pope is named after him, so hopefully
that gives him some solace in the afterlife.
Just when you think we had stumbled onto a sense of normalcy
when we were finally in reach of our final destination, real life decided to
intervene. The roads up the mountains are very narrow, and sharp turns are
everywhere. Going too fast is not a good plan. Turns out, a truck had tipped
over onto its side after taking a sharp turn too quickly. Mercifully, it didn’t
fall into the ravine that was all of three feet away. I took a peek down and
immediately regretted it. No thank you.
Hours behind schedule, then, hooray! We arrived! Far, far
away from the tourism of Florence. First impression was how small it is,
especially in comparison to where we had just been. We were all divided up and
sent to our different apartments. Well, everyone except for me and my two
roommates. Carl, Eric, and I just had to wait at a café until our landlord
arrived. Simone, to me, seemed to just appear out of thin air. I didn’t see him
walked to us from any particular direction. Maybe I was just loopy after seeing
so much already. Turns out, Simone speaks very good English. He started
studying it while in high school, and continued to study it when he went to
college. In fact, he was a double major: English and political studies. I like
him already! The apartment is pretty nice. We may be a bit away from everybody
else, but it is only a two minute walk to get to the piazza and meet the
classmates. A fully furnished apartment, full kitchen, spacious living room, a
full bathroom, an additional half bathroom by the entrance, and two bedrooms
for the three of us. Simone joked that the bricks that made up the floor were
old, so we shouldn’t jump on them too hard. English, political science, and a
dry sense of humor? It just keeps getting better, doesn’t it?
It may seem simple, but the best part was we could use the
dressers, so we could completely unpack and not have to live out of a suitcase
for a while. It really is the little things.
How do you get lost in such a small town? I’m not sure, but
somehow, the three of us figured it out. We knew that the whole group was
meeting….someplace…but we had no clue where. We double backed to where the bus
dropped us off, since there was a bar attached to the bus terminal. That
definitely wasn’t it. Carl tried to call Dr. Caputo to try and get more
information, but the first time was nothing but Italian jumble that he didn’t
understand. After a couple more minutes of head scratching a bug swatting, Carl
tried again. Success! Turns out, we were meeting at a pizzeria “on top of the
hill” at 8:00, roughly ten minutes from then. Thankfully, we weren’t left
behind. Unfortunately, we still didn’t really know where that was. One thing
led to another, and we all met up, joined the class, and made it to the
“welcome to Cagli” pizza night. Leave it to me to forget the name of the
restaurant as I sit and write this, but that begs the question: what matters
more, the place or the experience? My gut says it is the experience with my
classmates that is more important, but would that have even taken place in a
different restaurant, or city, or country? I’m starting to delve towards the
ideas of paradoxes and philosophy, and that is a completely different topic for
a completely different time.
In the past, I have always preferred Greek pizza over
Italian pizza. I’m starting to understand why. You can’t really get a true
Italian style of pizza in America. If you want the real thing, you have to go
get it. It’s that simple. Now that I’m getting the real deal, I think my tastes
may begin to change, especially when the chef whips up a beautiful pizza pie
with fresh Italian mozzarella, salami, and sausage. Usually, the only time I
take pictures of food is back home when the grill is fired up and the meat is
looking just perfect. But after I took one look at the pie that was placed in
front of me, I couldn’t help myself. It may sound like blasphemy to call it a
work of art while I am in a country known the world over for its art, but, hey,
it was a work of art. That chef knew what he was doing. Everyone at the table
(I think there were seven of us) split three bottles of wine between us, had
some intelligent debates (at least as intelligent as you can get when the vino
keeps flowing) over a few hot button issues, the biggest being sexual assaults
on college campuses, and how they are handled by college officials and the
federal government. You’d figure we’d all be at each other’s throats, but it
wasn’t like that at all. To put it vaguely, we all agree there is a serious
issue to deal with, but we all had different paths on getting there on how to
solve it.
You want to watch something fun? Watch seven communication
students studying abroad, all with stomachs full of vino, trying to do math
once the check comes to the table, knowing we are paying in Euros and the
gratuity is already factored into the final price. I didn’t think it was all
that funny; in fact, it was fairly awkward. But, to an outsider watching that
three ring circus, it would have been the very definition of hilarity.
Normally, this would be the end of the entry. Eventful day
and all, but now, dinner is done, check has been paid, time to go back to the
apartments and get some sleep, right? Wrong! After three days, I’ve quickly
learned that when you think it is all calm and everything is fine again, just
wait a few minutes. Sure enough, there was a party going on in the piazza, but
it was unclear what. Maybe it was a block party? Wedding party? The prodigal
son has returned? Not sure, but let’s look closer. Seems like there’s a
projector, and they are watching a… a TV show? There are 300 people out here,
and they are watching TV? Is there a big soccer game on or something?
As you can probably tell, my mind was blown. Again.
Turns out, they were watching the final episode of Italy’s
version of “World’s Master Chef, Jr.” and one of the final two participants was
a local 13-year-old boy taking on a 9-year-old from Rome. How’s that for a bit
of a cultural divide? It was big city Rome, formerly the epicenter of the
legendary Roman Empire, and little, sleepy Cagli, head to head. And it seemed
like the whole town came out to celebrate one of their own. My mind was blown!
I’d never seen anything like that stateside. Unfortunately, he came in second,
but that didn’t stop the town from celebrating and playing Queen’s “We Are the
Champions” over the loudspeaker.
After all this, is the day over? Nope!
One more development. See, one of the big projects we are working
on here is to create a profile on a member of the Cagli community. We will meet
them, interview them, write up a story on them, and take photos of them. In the
end, all of the stories from the class are collaborated and published. Pretty
cool, huh? Turns out, there is someone here named Claudio that is a member of
the Italian military and served in both Iraq and Afghanistan. Not only that,
but he was stationed in Afghanistan at the exact same time as I was. On top of that, he was stationed right in Kabul,
and I was stationed at Bagram Airfield. Kabul and Bagram are roughly 40
kilometers away from each other. Not all that far from one another. As usual,
my mind was blown but I tried to stay cool, calm, and collected. You just never
know who you will meet in this world. Hopefully, Claudio and I can meet up
again soon. I know that I wouldn’t let a fellow Afghanistan vet down, if I’m
given the chance to do my profile on him.
Sometimes life is so amazing that all you can do is shake
your head and get lost in wonder.
How would I describe Day 3?
Impressive. Most impressive.
