July 17, 2011
The last week whizzed by so fast I barely had time to think, and I am struggling to remember what day I did what.
Wednesday was another day of class and rehearsals which included staging my final scene. The subtext is kind of a cool idea: The scene itself is a dialogue between three goddesses, Naturna, Eternita (me) and Destina, as they discuss immortalizing Calisto in the stars. In our version, four of us will be on stage, the three goddesses and one “statue.” The statue is Marilyn Monroe in the prime of her life, Natura represents the men in Marylin’s life at first loyal and passionate and then turning around and selling her out to the photographer (me!), who represents Marylin’s fame and what it has done to her. Destina is the younger version of Marylin, before she was discovered, and my character (who is a man) sees her only as a meal ticket. It’s kind of a sad story, but I’m excited to play a pants roll. I will likely have to play some pant rolls in the future, especially since there are quite a few operas were written for Castrati male sopranos and we don’t condone the practice of castration for the sake of art any longer. It will be good practice for the future.
Thursday I actually had time to spare, so I went down to the swimming hole with two friends and cooled off a bit. The swimming hole is a particularly deep and slow moving section of the river that winds through the valley and is surrounded by large rocks that can be used for sunbathing. Don’t be deceived when I say river, however, as this time of year the river is maybe 36 feet wide and a foot or two deep, appearing tiny in comparison to the dry, rocky riverbed that extends out a good 100 feet on either side of the water. I don’t know if the river swells to be that large in the spring during runoff, although the recent silt deposits suggest that perhaps it does.
In order to get to the swimming hole, we had to take a curvy, uneven path, ancient cobblestone stairs, and hike across the rocky riverbed—all on one of the hottest days I’ve experienced here yet. All that made the first dive into the cool waters absolute bliss. We swam around for a good hour, chatting, splashing, and conversing with some students from Morocco who spoke fairly good English.
The hike back wasn’t nearly as hot due to being soaked, but by the time I got home I was ready to sink into bed and sleep for a year.
Psh.
Sleep?
In Italy?
Like that happens…
A brief text to Emily informed me that she and Jeffery were headed up to Talamello, the medieval town atop the hill (well, eroded mountain) behind my house where the local cheese I had come to adore was aged in ancient caves. I had wanted to go, so I pulled myself out of bed, rinsed off, and set off once more. Ignoring the fact that I already felt like a limp noodle, I first made a brief round at the Jewelry market that was in town for the night, then joined my friends on one of the most beautiful walks of the trip. The road to Talamello began as a street that arced up above my house through a ritzier part of town, a part that could be called the suburbs, I suppose. Out of nowhere, a sketchy staircase appeared on the side of the road (magically, of course. Poof!) disappearing into the thick foliage of the mountain. As we always seem to take the sketchy paths to everything in this country, we eagerly ascended said creepy stairs, and suddenly I was transported into my childhood imagination.
Fairies could live here.
The steps cut directly into the mountain and almost seemed to grow out of the ground along with the thick trees that hid the staircase from the view of onlookers below. The higher we climbed, the more beautiful the view became, the stairway curving to connect with some steps leading into the back yard of some random, gorgeous house. At the top of these steps we finally halted for a quick break, unable to speak (partially due to the beauty and partially because, well, we just walked up a freakin’ mountain.).
After catching our breath we climbed even more steps (it’s a wonder these people survive the winter without slipping down the stairs and off the side of the cliff!) until we reached a little piazza surrounded by old houses and a small, beautiful church. Next to the church looked out onto the valley and I must admit I almost had a religious experience.
Drop. Dead. Gorgeous.
You could see everything in the valley! Novafeltria, San Leo—the clifftop castle I went to on Monday- and even San Marino, the oldest city-state nation in Italy. After getting our fill of the landscapes, we stepped into the tiny medieval church, and I was amazed to find original frescos and tiled works still intact. Even the main crucifix was the original, and absolutely stunning.
After a long hike like that, we were understandably hungry. Davide (dah-vee-day), the Hotel Magda’s owner, suggested a pizza joint on the outskirts of Talamello, so we thought we’d check it out. WOOOOW. Damn was that good pizza! I shouldn’t have been surprised. Talamello, as I said before, is where Formaggio di Fossa (cave/pit cheese) is made and aged. The caves this wonderfully sharp cheese age in are built into the foundations of the city and are a pivotal part of the infrastructure. A town such as this should know how to make good pizza. J
Done with our adventure, we trekked back down to Novafeltria and willed our aching legs to continue as we browsed the jewelry fair that happened to be in town. We didn’t get to finally sit until late, when we went to the Café. I had my Italian test the next day, and ended up studying with the help of an older gentleman eager to help me learn the language (although I figured out how pure his motives were when he kept trying to buy me drinks a few days later…dirty old man.).
The test went far better than I expected, although I didn’t do as well on the verbal as I would have liked. However, the written and listening went incredibly well and helped balance out my inability to come up with responses under pressure. J
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