Ala Italia

Now we are here. I am here. And here is Orvieto, Italy.

We flew out of Boston last night around 5.30, and arrived in Roma around 7.30 this morning. What with the 6 hour time difference, our entire group is very tired. Rather than use espresso to combat my draining mind, since there is opportunity for internet use, I have decided to write something.

Today, after a quick tour around our facilities, we had lunch at Locando del Lupo, a restaurant down the street. Then we walked around Orvieto, down straight-ish streets, alleys, winding ways, rock-walled vistaes, all cobbled, all narrow, almost all occasioned by speeding little cars. The cars here are small, and despite the size of the lanes, they drive quickly. We, as pedestrians, must always be on the hear-out and step to the side when we hear engines echoing off the stone walls lining our path. The sun came out while we walked, and it got warm enough most of us removed our gloves and coats. As the sun disappeared behing the hills, the wind picked up a chilly edge, and now we are cosily back inside, tongues gelato-sated, for a time of rest and reading before dinner.

So far, this place isn't terribly strange. Or, it's not as overwhelmingly strange as I expected. My speculation is that I have spent the entire day in the company of a group of English speakers. I have heard Italian, as we walked the streets, but have not yet experienced the frustration of trying to communicate with insufficient means head-on. So Italy is beautiful, not overwhelming.

When we exited the airport in Rome, the first thing I thought was: this feels like Southern California! And looks like it! As we drove north to Orvieto, this thought rebounded in my head. Yes, it reminds me, in the hills and some of the vegetation, and the air, of Southern California. And yet. It is completely different. The other big thought the bounced in and remained was: now I know where those painters got their colours from! I remember seeing Renaissance paintings from Italy, and finding the colours of the vegetation unbelievable, fantastic, other-worldly. The combinations of kinds and shapes of trees were strange, fanciful... But it's all real. It's all here. Those colours in the paintings? I'm seeing them. Those oddly-shaped trees? Seeing those, too. Strange to find my faith in the painters' ability to reproduce nature increasing through a simple one-hour van ride.

We will spend tomorrow in Orvieto, too. I already begin to be able to retrace my steps, or know where I am in directional comparison to where I was and where I want to be. I shall look at the map, and that will help, too, but I feel well on my way to not easily getting lost in this small cliff-bound city of twists and turns and secrets. If I only knew the language, I feel like I could navigate just fine. But of course, I can't. Not really. Not without someone else to help me communicate my desire or intention. I can certainly walk, and not speak but keep my hands in my pockets and my eyes up. The locals know all the same that I'm not from around here. Locals in all small towns - especially ones with tourist attractions, can tell at a glance if someone's a visitor. I know because I could do it growing up. It's odd to be on the other end, and to hope that they don't mind my presence as much as I often minded those summer visitors.

These ten days are just beginning. I should probably go read, too, so that I'm prepared for our conversations. If I prepare a mug of tea for my hands, I think I can keep awake. As long as we can stay up until bedtime tonight, we are told, our jet-lag worries will be gone. One good night's sleep will set us on the right track. So that's what I'm hoping for. Wonderful sleep. Just not yet.

For now, finish Dante and prudence.