Paying it Forward

In the past week I've had 2 instances that resulted in my exasperation with the Italian system:

1. After waiting 8 months for the Italian government to process my Permit to Stay, I went to the immigration office to pick it up, waited in line for 3 hours only to find out I need to renew it in 2 more months and do all the paperwork again.
2. I received a letter from the Italian postal service that a birthday package of mine with "cosmetics" inside is currently sequestered in a Milan airport and the Minister of Health has deemed it a possible hazard, so I'll be doing heaps of paperwork and sending them unnecessary documents to get it delivered.

some redeeming beauty in Turin at the Mole Antonelliana

As I've explained to you all in recent posts, customer service and sympathy simply don't exist in this country.  But this notwithstanding, I'm a firm believer in remaining positive despite the circumstances and I can thank my dear-old gray-haired granny for that.  I can be thankful I even have the opportunity to be living in Italy, and how great is it that people love me enough to send me tokens of appreciation from across the pond?  I'm a big believer in giving without expecting anything in return, helping someone out, realigning the ol' karma if you will.  Quite simply, being positive and helpful seriously changes the way you experience your life and it has an incredibly favorable impact on others around you.

nothing quite like sharing dinner and conversation

I've kept the concept of "paying it forward" on my list of daily priorities (even if Italian state employees shun this notion).  As I told you in my recent post on Berlin, my experience CouchSurfing was nothing short of unforgettable.  I was welcomed into a stranger's home and treated as an ("exotic") honored guest, given a place to rest my weary head and offered the most humble hospitality.  And I knew I could give back.  So I listed our couch on the network and in the first week received 2 requests for hosting.  This weekend I hosted my first surfers and truly paid it forward.

a kid from California gets his first gelato; happy to say I contributed to this blissful moment

Jonathan, an extreme sports guy from California came on Thursday night and gifted us 3 bottles of wine (I immediately felt a kinship with this fellow) - we had dinner together with my roommates, discussed his life and experience thus far in Italy and he promptly did all the dishes and cleaned our kitchen.  I could get used to this "selfless" thing.  The next day we took him on a trek up to Basilica di Superga, a church on a hill near Turin, then in the evening he accompanied me and some friends to a Balkan Beat Box concert.  He was extremely courteous and a pleasant house guest - honestly the encounter was as enjoyable and edifying for me as it was convenient and comfortable for him.  On Sunday night I hosted Katya, a soft-spoken theology student from Russia, she had dinner with us and talked to us about her native Moscow and her travels in India, Nepal, China, Japan and Israel.  That day she'd been near the border of France and somehow managed to hitchhike all the way to Turin - I was fascinated she'd done that alone and had such a positive experience.  She sat at our dinner table and told me earnestly "traveling is like a drug, once you've tried it, you can't get enough of it."

Basilica di Superga on a lovely Spring day

For those of you who may be putting me on your prayer list for fear of my safety, I'll say again that people's profiles will indicate their level of experience in the system, their location can be verified, people can vouch for them and you can give anonymous reviews.  For me, the most moving part about this network is that you could meet someone from across the planet for the first time, share a plate of pasta with them at your dinner table, and at the end of the conversation you end up realizing they're a person just like you.  They have knowledge, troubles, ambitions just like the rest of us, only with a unique context.  This experience (being in Italy, CouchSurfing, hosting, etc) has had a profound affect on my world view -- the more I travel the globe, the more I realize how truly little I know about it and how little I've actually experienced.  I can't wait to keep giving and learning.

94 Years Young

I've always loved the month of March. Spring Break; Saint Patrick's Day; Women's History Month; March Madness (if you're into that sort of thing). It's the harbinger of springtime-- the weather changes, flowers bloom, people seem to be happier and more joyful.  Though specifically I tend to eagerly anticipate March because of birthdays - not only my own (albeit worthy of bacchanalia) but also my Grandmother's.  She was exactly 70 years older than me, so it was easy for me as a child to remember her age.  When I turned 8 she was 78; when I turned 16 she was 86; and now I've just turned 24, which means she would've been 94 years young on March 26.

Geraldine Lulu McCaleb Shultz

(here she is about my age!)

Recently I was musing on the fact that being 24 means I probably can't count myself in the early-twenties category anymore, but rather the mid-twenties, which is ever-so-close to late-twenties and teetering on 30 and that can only mean my inevitable demise into wrinkledom and orthopedic shoes.  But then I had a conversation with my mom about how fortunate I am to have already seen and experienced so many things and how Grandma lived to be almost 4x my age - imagine that.  Really.  Imagine just for a moment that you could live to be 93 - all the places you could see (over 30 places in 30 years!), all the stories you could tell, all the lives you could touch. I can't begin to think of all the technological changes Grandma saw in her lifetime: cars, television, computers, cell phones; all the history: the Great Depression, WWII, the Cold War, September 11; and most importantly the fruition of her family tree: children, grandchildren, even a great-grandchild!

The Grandkids: Brandon, Brian, Lael, Kendall, Me and Cody

I remember spending the most precious days of my youth at her house sitting at the kitchen counter watching her cook, sipping mint tea and wanting to be nowhere else in the world.  I remember laying across her lap reading stories, working puzzles with her and my cousins and feeling an incredible sense of comfort and security.  I remember learning to play cards, listening to her stories and absorbing her words as if I'd never heard them before because I knew one day I might not have the chance to hear them again. Grandma spent almost an entire century blessing this earth with her humble spirit and generous nature, and I continue to pray I can one day leave such a legacy for the subsequent branches of our family tree.  

Lael, Grandma and Me

Let us celebrate March, the coming of a new season, and the passing of an era.  Let us honor an irreplaceable and unforgettable woman, mother, grandmother, twin sister, friend who would've been 94 years young this weekend. I wanted to create this post as a platform for family members and people who knew Gerry Shultz (aka Grandma) to be able to wish another "Happy Birthday" to a woman who never stopped smiling or caring for those around her.  Feel free to leave memories, thoughts or prayers for Grandma -- because I feel like somehow she'll be able to receive all our lauding, and also because I personally believe heaven's got wifi.

  

Ich Liebe Berlin

alternative post title: The Time I Went to Germany and Hung Out with a Filipino Transexual
subsequent disclaimer: for the more conservative of my readers, you've been warned

me in front of the Reichstag.

Last night I slept a solid 13 hours.  How, you ask?  4 nights in Berlin can do that to a person.  This week was Spring Break and instead of heading to Ibiza or Greece for a serious American-style student vacation, I chose to visit one of the most bustling art scenes in Europe: Berlin.  I originally planned to go with a friend now living in England, but her schedule didn't allow it and my friends from school were planning an all-too-expensive jaunt across 3 countries.  So I decided to do a solo trip, my first actually.  Not that I haven't explored places by myself, but I've never gone on vacation alone.

part of the East Side Gallery on the remains of the Berlin wall.

I utilized my CouchSurfing (CS) membership online and found a free place to stay.  For those of you who aren't familiar with the website, it's an online network of people traveling and/or hosting people who need a couch to crash on for a night or two.  You're able to view a person's profile, read about their experiences hosting as well as reviews by people they've hosted - they can even have their identity and location verified, so it's generally a secure network.  I went out on a limb (and decided to initially omit this fact from communication with the parental units) and decided to trust the system, and honestly I couldn't be happier that I did.

michael (germany), diane (philippines), phil (england), me and tomas (germany)

I arrived in Berlin late Monday night, managed public transportation and found my host's apartment in the center of the city.  I was greeted by Leonardo, a Brazilian bodybuilder/advertising specialist living in Germany and another fellow surfer Diane, an openly transsexual Filipino touring Europe for 4 months.  They were both incredibly friendly, and Leo gave me everything I would need: sheets, blankets, pillows, towels and the freedom to help myself to whatever I found in the kitchen.  We talked about our native countries and experiences in Europe - Leo has hosted over 50 people in his apartment from all over the world without asking anything in return, just to meet new people and understand other cultures.  I didn't get to hang out with him that much because he was working during the week, but Diane and I spent time touring Berlin together.

Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe.

She told me about a free tour the next day and we were able to see quite a few things on my list: the Brandenburg Gate (built as a sign of peace by the king of Prussia and initially one of the only gates to enter the city), the Holocaust Memorial (2,711 "non-symbolic" concrete slabs of varying heights to honor the 6 million murdered in the Holocaust), the Berliner Dom (incredible cathedral), Humboldt University (Einstein taught here and Marx studied here), Checkpoint Charlie (touristy recreation of the checkpoint between East/West Berlin), and even a few things I didn't expect to see including an dirty parking lot which, as it turns out, is 15 meters above Hitler's barracks during WWII - where he hid for the last 2 weeks of his life, where he married, where he killed himself; the former home of the Luftwaffe where 200 workers were gunned down in the 1950s because they were protesting their low wages; and I even learned about the history surrounding the Berlin Wall and what would happen if anyone attempted to traverse it.  I saw the monument beneath the square near Humboldt University with shelves and shelves of empty books in memory of those written against Germany/by Jews/concerning sexual research which were burned by the Nazis.

Kunsthaus (art house)

Berlin is truly a place of rebirth, as the city (or rather the country) has such a dark past but there is a sincere attempt at memorializing and acknowledging those tragedies.  In addition, the very recent fall of the Berlin wall in 1989 means the city is rife with political activism, diversity and therefore creativity.  It's nearly impossible to walk anywhere in the city without seeing murals or street art and I decided to use my second day to take advantage of an "alternative Berlin" tour and learn about life post-wall.  We walked around the city tracking artists and styles, then explored the Kunsthaus Tacheles which is an occupied artist squat where Berlin's creatives live, exhibit and practice art.  The entire place reminded me of something you could find in South Austin, but on a larger, more rebellious scale.

another work from the East Side Gallery

As for the nightlife (and reason I caught up on so much sleep last night) I must say it's the most active I've ever seen.  Europe in general is crazy about starting the parties at midnight or later, and even though I'm still in my early-20s (convincing myself 24 is still early- and not mid-) I am a wimp when it comes to partying for days until the witching hour.  What's great is that Berlin's CS scene is thriving and each of the nights I was there I was able to meet fellow surfers and hosts from around the world!  I met a guy from England who plays online poker professionally, a Russian who studies power engineering and once successfully hitchhiked to Amsterdam, a German who's leaving April 1st on a 3 year trip to ride his bike solo across the world, I conversed with an Irishman in Italian, told a French girl about Texas (she'd never heard of it), and even met a guy from San Francisco who was wearing a t-shirt with "Austin, Texas" on it.  I can't even express to you how great this experience was - talking to people from all over the world with entirely different backgrounds and somehow we all had a mutual understanding and ability to relate to one another.

me in front of the Berliner Dom

This post is already getting lengthy, but suffice to say my trip to Berlin was unforgettable - I visited the Island of Museums, tasted the best currywurst in the city (and ordered in German!), stayed out dancing until 6AM when the birds started chirping, made instant friends with the most diverse group of people you could imagine, and essentially had the time of my life.  I think there's something unique, even primal about going somewhere alone without knowing what to expect and managing to survive in the given circumstances.  You learn so much about yourself, what you're capable of and most importantly what exists beyond your understanding.

For believe me: the secret for harvesting from existence the greatest fruitfulness and greatest enjoyment is - to live dangerously. 
--Friedrich Nietzsche

I've Been a Busy "B"

This may be the longest I've gone without posting - nearly a month!  I'm not sure where time went, folks, but I can tell you it's been crazy for me these last few weeks:

Carnevale in Venezia!

• Went to Verona and saw Juliet's balcony
• Went to Venice with some schoolmates for Carnevale
• Had 4 tests (written and oral) and somehow made it out alive
• Turned the big 2-4 and celebrated Italian style
• Tried to plan my Spring Break trip very last minute

grabbing Juliet's chest. it's for good luck in love, not just for tasteless photo-ops.

So that's what's been happening with me, as you can imagine it's been a bit hectic.  The trip to Verona/Venice was so much fun, 4 of us from school joined a big group of people from Torino and spent the weekend touring romantic cities, having masked adventures and enjoying the traditional costumes of Venetian Carnevale.  We met 2 couples from Torino that took us Americans under their wing to make sure we knew what was going on - they invited us to get a pizza with them in Verona and since I was the only one of us able to speak Italian I played translator all night between the groups.  We had lots of fun getting to know our new friends and trying to understand each other via gestures and lots of laughs.  We've been invited to one of the couples' houses for dinner in the coming week!

me and the girls under the porticos in piazza San Marco - it started to rain!

Last weekend we celebrated my birthday and it was such a blast!  I had class and was working at my internship all day Friday when my roommate Georgina texted me and asked if I wanted to meet for a gelato in the center.  I couldn't say no to such a request and when I met her at our usual place I was incredibly surprised to see Ricarda, my German roommate from last semester!  She'd flown into Torino for my birthday weekend to surprise me and I couldn't have felt more special.  The next morning (my birthday) I awoke to a most wonderful surprise brunch of everything you could imagine: pancakes, eggs, bacon, potatoes, fruit salad, and someone got their hands on peanut butter which was exciting.  There were fresh flowers arranged on the table and Georgina had even bought a shirt for me that said "Kiss me it's my birthday!" in italian -- I was so touched!

birthday bruuuuuunch!!!

I'd organized a dinner on Saturday night at Las Rosas, one of the few Mexican restaurants in Torino, and at the end we had 16 people all celebrating lil' ol' ME!  A few of my professors showed up and I was surprised at all the gifts I received (a few art books, bracelets, a scarf, some nutella and nailpolish as well!)  We enjoyed the "Mexican" food (I held back my Texas judgment on quality) and spent the rest of the night dancing.  For the days leading up to my birthday I thought I'd be sad and miss home since this is the first time I've been away from family and friends (and the United States) for my birthday, but all the effort my friends here put into making the day special was much appreciated and I couldn't have asked for more.

our group at dinner - they sang happy birthday in 3 languages!

me in my birthday outfit.

In other news, I was waiting for a friend to confirm a trip to Berlin with me over Spring Break, but she went MIA for a few days and I decided I would plan my own trip - so Monday I'm off to Germany for the first time (can't count all the times I've been to Frankfurt airport) and I'm super excited!  I went to the local library a few days ago to check out some travel books and there will be plenty for me to see in 4 nights, 3 days - after all there is an island of museums!  Expect updates upon my return, and do forgive me for the recent lack in posts.

Un bacione! xoxo

When One Door Closes...

Another one's supposed to open, right?  Step 3 on wikiHow's "How to Handle Rejection" page suggested writing a blog post, so here I am staring blankly at the metaphorical door that just slammed in my face this afternoon.  My application for an internship at the Guggenheim in Venice wasn't accepted.  I've just packed all my emotional baggage and moved to DisappointedTown, population: 1.  *Sigh*  What's most bothersome is how bloody qualified I am for this position.  I have plenty of experience and proven initiative along with a degree in Art History, one in Italian, and a Master's in the works - what more could they want, exactly?  I also have to admit I'm not used to rejection.  It's part of life, I know.  We can't always get what we want, blah blah blah, but whyyyyy?  I work hard.  I play hard, granted, but it's because I've worked hard enough to merit the occasional day trip to a neighboring village or a sinfully caloric 3-flavored gelato.

I did my homework, ergo I deserve this.

Well, they did specify on the website that it wasn't recommended to apply during the summer due to the high volume of candidates, but heck it's the only time I can do the darn thing.  I was somewhat anticipating a negative response, which is why I applied to the National Gallery in DC as well, but I'll be honest and say I felt rather confident I would be accepted.  I've always been accepted.  (How obnoxious do I sound right now? Sorry.)  But really, I'm awesome; feel free to check my facts on that.  I guess just not by European standards.  They probably have candidates who've done some junior curatorship at the Louvre or a conservation apprenticeship at the Uffizi, who knows.  Europeans.  They have all the history, and now they have all the jobs too!  My professor was telling me when she worked at Christie's in London they had an arrangement with the Guggenheim in Venice and they always had 2 spots for "the best" students, or really the ones with the most money or those whose parents were on the list of donors.  C'est la vie.

Unflattering as it may be, this was taken in Venice and currently reflects my mood.

I know, I've got to look at the positive side.  Everything happens for a reason; something more suitable for me will present itself and all will be fine.  It just sucks not always getting what you want, you know?  But I am glad I at least tried.  I put a lot of effort into the application and I even had my name circulating in a few stateside prayer groups to boost my odds for success.  The more I live in this world the more I realize it still really is just about who you know and oftentimes what you know is irrelevant.  Yet in learning more we are exposed to new ideas, fresh points of view, concepts that challenge us -- and through this experience we can hone our skills, discover new interests and develop as intellectual beings.

Hard to be sad when life (and the pizza/beer combo) is so good.

It's a rather vulnerable situation, applying for jobs, putting yourself out there describing your wants, dreams and ambitions, only to be rejected by someone who hasn't even met you (or read your blog, for that matter!)  But I'm realizing that the very reason I'm saddened by this situation is the reason I'll be able to quickly overcome it.  I know I'm an excellent candidate; I have the experience, the passion, and the determination to land a job or internship in my field and I won't stop trying to succeed.  I want to learn, to grow, to make my family proud, to realize my potential.  I want to self-actualize and a "no" from the Guggenheim isn't going to throw a wrench in my plan.  Heck, summers in Venice would be tourist-ridden and generally insufferable anyway.  Plus I hear it gets muggy, and Lord knows I don't like being sweaty.

Bologna/Ravenna

And so I return from another Italian weekend adventure, exhausted yet exhilarated.  Georgina and I took the train early Friday morning about 3.5 hours across Northern Italy to the lovely region of Emilia Romagna.  We arrived in Bologna around lunchtime to find a slightly more populated and portico-ed version of our beloved Torino.  The youth demographic is staggering as the city boasts the world's oldest university established in 1088.  The sun was out all weekend as well as the locals, and coupled with the earth tones of the limitless porticoes - there was a certain warmth that I found truly refreshing.

kilometers of covered walkways.

We walked along the covered avenues, stopping at a small trattoria mentioned in one of Georgina's guidebooks to grab some tagliatelle alla bolognese.  I know it's touristy, but I can't very well go to Bologna and NOT try pasta alla bolognese - and good thing I did because it was ah-may-ziiiing!  That certain warmth I was talking about even translated into great service.  Our waiter was excited to inform us all the pasta was made fresh in house, though that warmth may have been too much when he went to grab my menu and "accidentally" let his hand linger on top of mine.  Creeper alla Bolognese.

that's what I'm talking about.

After this delicious meal we headed to the two towers of Bologna, the oldest of which, Torre Garisenda, was built in the 12th century but foundational problems lent to a Pisa-like lean.  The taller of the two is Torre Asinelli and tourists are invited to climb the 498 steps to the very top where the view of the city can only be described as breathtaking (as if the climb wasn't already).  In an even more touristy fashion I decided to take a video with ye olde iphone to commemorate the feat from 90+ meters above the city.

*Watch the Video Here*

Following the descent back to ground level we promptly decided our recent undertaking merited a celebratory gelato.  (As a sidenote, other things that merit a gelato pitstop are: successfully passing an exam,  finding a 2-euro coin in your pocket, and simply spotting a gelateria on any and every street corner).  We sat on the steps in front of Basilica San Petronio in the giant Piazza Maggiore at the center of Bologna to enjoy our ice cream.  The sun was beginning to set, families were out and about, other students sat across the steps, pigeons cooed and searched for scraps, a bell tolled at the clock tower, and that moment was somehow endless.

me in piazza maggiore.

Later we checked out the University and the National Picture Gallery, then we met up with our host for the evening - a friend of a friend who agreed to show us around and provide a place to sleep.  Again, I must underline the unbelievable sense of selfless hospitality here.  Enrico took us on a walking tour of Bologna by night, showed us some places popular among locals, and even ordered us Campari Spritz with a slice of orange so we could experience a true night in the city.  The next morning he prepared us a caffe (espresso by our terms) and we were off to Ravenna, a smaller medieval town known in particular for its illustrious mosaics.

Basilica di San Vitale.

An hour and a half later we arrived and were surprised to be greeted by buses upon buses of tourists - many more than Bologna.  We traversed the small historic center, stopping in the many churches and admiring the area's incredible talent for the mosaic craft.  Basilica di San Vitale was by far the most mesmerizing sight to behold, with every surface covered in the grandest detail by tiny shimmering tiles that somehow come together to depict elaborate scenes.  One of the main attractions in Ravenna is the tomb of Dante, which we were both very excited to behold.  The remains of one of the greatest poets known across the world can be found here (much to the chagrin of the Florentines who exiled him during his last years and would desperately like him back).

which is it, I wonder?  paradiso - purgatorio - inferno

Soon after we headed back to Bologna and had a few hours to check out the huge neighborhood markets before catching the train back to Torino.  We had a lovely time, saw a lot of indescribable art, enjoyed some true Italian hospitality and were able to experience Italy from a new point of view.  Can't really beat those weekend plans.

Aosta

I'm a few days behind on catching you guys up - do forgive me, as the life of a jet-setter is all but insipid.  Lately I've been doing that dastardly task you all know as homework, in addition I'm working on cataloguing items for the Anthropology Museum, and recently my Urban Development professor has enlisted me in correcting the English on his cultural association's website.  Add to that my weekend attempts to visit neighboring cities and you've got one busy lady.  

Aosta: historical center covered in snow!

On Saturday morning the roommates and I awoke at the ungodly hour of 7AM to catch a train north to the Valle d'Aosta.  Aosta Valley is a small autonomous region north of Piedmont bordering France and nestled gently in the frigid arms of the Alps.  Let me tell you that we couldn't have picked a more inconvenient day to visit this bilingual mountain region, for the reasons were two: there were apparently some strikes with the train employees (go figure, this is Europe) and this was the one day in months that it snowed in North Italy.  Now I know I can hardly complain about weather since those of you in Texas are experiencing a freak cold snap (*imagine me doing an animated snap motion here*) but bear with me on this one.  We rode the crowded train 2 hours north with possibly every middle-aged couple in Turin looking to have a fun day at the fair.

I'd fit right in with Renaissance fashion, I think.

At this point I should tell you my fun crazy weekend plan was visiting the annual Fiera di Sant'Orso (Festival of Saint Orso) or more commonly the annual Woodcarving/Folk Festival.  How old am I, again?  Yeah, I might as well be receiving AARP informational packets in the mail because I spent all afternoon in the snow elbow-to-elbow with a crowd that enjoys antiquing, a good game of pinocle, and probably telling everyone about their latest home renovations.  Even so, this festival is a tradition dating back to the year 1000 when Saint Orso, a hermit and mountain craftsman, brought down his handcrafted "bowls of friendship" to give to the less fortunate and share a traditional drink of very strong coffee and alcohol during the cold winter months.  Ever since then the artisans of the Aosta Valley have perfected their craft and gathered once a year to sell their goods and have a 2-day festival honoring the saint.

an example of the incredible talent seen at the festival

The day was quite enjoyable - the stands and booths were many and the crowd must have numbered in the thousands.  The constant falling of snow made the slow ambling of a festival turn into a huddled mass of people pushing through the streets, umbrellas bopping you in the head and snow accosting your red little face.  Yes, maybe I am too Texan for this weather.  At a certain point snow stops being a delicate blanket of white and it turns into the reason I start seriously worrying I may never have use of my toes again.  But the festival was lovely, artisans from all over the region were exhibiting their handmade goods: sculptures, bowls, utensils, tables, chairs, clothing, books, toys, wooden flowers, clocks - anything you could imagine being realized in wood, it was there.  We walked for hours along the ancient streets of Aosta and along the fortified walls, hearing both French and Italian being spoken across the crowds.  We stopped in the early afternoon for a plate of cheesy polenta and sausages being stirred in a huge iron pot by several burly old italian men.  I must say it was delicious and well worth the troublesome weather we endured all day.

frosty flowers made of wood

I purchased a cutting board from an old vendor lady who had been shaping and sculpting wood for years in the ancient traditions of the Aosta Valley.  This should be an excellent mate for my fancy new knife I received at Christmas and lead to some noteworthy cooking adventures.  Luckily we made it home despite being delayed a few hours due to train strikes.  I'm looking forward to the many wonderful experiences that await me here in the boot-shaped country - I just can't get enough of learning, exploring, honing my knowledge and expanding my opportunities!