Educational Awakening: Hyde Park Academy

My father used to tell me that education is all about building blocks. When I was younger he would wax eloquent about building a “strong foundation” so as not to limit my options later on. Thankfully his message eventually sank in—at least in so far as I, often begrudgingly, did my homework and tried to do my best. I learned to add, and then multiply, then to perform algebra, and finally to understand theoretical calculus. In retrospect I understand that I really was building an educational tower. Any failure to fully grasp addition or algebra would have left me unequipped to perform as a student of mathematics later down the road. It’s like that game Jenga, wherein the whole tower relies completely on a few blocks for support. Today I was reminded, in the most tangible sense possible, that not everyone had the pleasure of being raised by my father, not everyone has the Jenga tower I have been blessed with.

​In his book More Than Just Race, sociologist William Julius Wilson breaks down a number of issues relevant to urban poverty. In his discussion on the vicious cycle of educational underachievement Wilson uses the analogy of the NFL draft. Imagine if you will, he says, that when a team wins the Super Bowl they then get first (rather than last) pick in the subsequent draft. This would most certainly, and in short order, product teams of vastly inequitable talent distribution with a small percentage of victorious franchises dominating the game with all the talent, many in the middle, and the rest with the leftovers, continually failing, at the bottom of the heap with no hope of ever coming out on top. This seems ridiculous, does it not? This is why in the NFL teams who win the Super Bowl don’t get first draft pick. The frustrating part of this is, although the powers that be in the NFL seem to understand this equalization dynamic, the people who designed our educational institutions do not.
Mr. Heinz, a math teacher at Hyde Park Academy on the south side of Chicago, reminded me of Wilson’s NFL/education dilemma yesterday. He explained how in Chicagoland special schools admit only the highest performing students, a secondary bracket takes the ones who barely missed the first, and magnets and charters pick up a majority of the rest. This leaves neighborhood schools like Hyde Park Academy somewhere like “the lurch.” They constantly get the lowest performing students, students who, by the time they enter high school, want to be just about anywhere other than school. Moreover, they are essentially punished – read: reorganized –every few years in an attempt and make the school perform “up to par.” It is a vicious cycle. It is exactly this type of outmoded, illogical education policy that created the de facto segregation and generational poverty which is so prevalent in America’s urban core.

I’ve been in Chicago just over 48 hours now and have been struck (aside from by my first blizzard experience not occurring in a Dairy Queen) by issues concerning urban education. As someone who has lived the majority of their life about as far right politically as one can get, the seemingly obvious solutions scare me in their ostensible liberalism. Tonight, over dinner, I had a conversation which laid a capstone for my first few days—at least in an ideological sense. Whilst consuming our crunchy salads and delicious chili-pasta a few fellow Furman students and I came to the conclusion that education is pretty screwed up. (People wiser than me have known this for some time now, but it was something of a breakthrough on my end.) We spent quite a bit of time talking about effective after school opportunities for engagement, and—returning to the Jenga example—the effect that strong homes, families and other externalities have on early childhood development. But in the end we came to something of an interesting conclusion. We felt like it all came down to empathy.

Obviously education fails quite a few students; I would argue most students (I might be seen by many as “successful” on the educational frontier but I don’t crack much of that up to the structure of my education.) If we want to truly change the way that education happens on an individual level we have to think from an empathetic vantage point. Wilson, and for that matter, Mr. Heinz, would have us see poverty as a by-product of some intersection of structural and cultural factors. While these are valid and true aspects of the problem, it really boils down to ineffective education at the institutional level. This means that reorganization and reallocation will continue be insufficient as a means of tackling this, most curious, of dilemmas.

So what? Insofar as I can see (bearing in mind I have no PhD) the solution is linear and is two-fold. 1) In the short term American education—specifically urban education –has to provide superior surrogate role models for its students, enhance offerings rather than removing programs, and focus on foundations. 2) in the long term, the entire system needs to be dissolved and reestablished; yes this is drastic, but these are people’s lives that we as a society are failing by our inaction. This rejuvenation must include the destruction of standardized learning with focus shifting rather to exploratory, modular classrooms rather than the iron rule of the curriculum.

​Fixing education is not going to come quickly, simply, or painlessly. It’s one of the many problems that cannot be solved by throwing cash in its direction. It would take multiple books to substantiate the conclusions that I have outlined above and come to over the past 48 hours. Therefore, please don’t read this as my arrogant ravings from the ivory tower, but rather find above the delineation of a change in heart for me.

How Do You Hold a Moonbeam In Your Hand?

It is afternoon. It is late November. You are driving a stretch of highway that seems endlessly straight and flat. The expansiveness of the world before you is as the flatness and emptiness of paper waiting to be filled. You imagine how weary the men who paved this road must have been when they finished. The way the steamroller must have rolled and rolled and rolled and rolled.

You realize, suddenly, that hours, miles have gone by one small yellow tick at a time and you haven’t bothered to take much notice. You search your heavy, clouded mind for any pieces of memory, any shard of evidence to prove to yourself how you arrived here from where you last were. But nothing turns up. No evidence can be found that you ever experienced the distance at all. There is only knowing that you are here now and the knowledge that you must have passed through somewhere in between.

I feel much like that right now.

I look through my computer, cleaning off articles and images from Salzburg and I wonder what it was like to pass through that somewhere. I have memories, but more and more I am convinced that the memories are simply a fabricated reality strung together from the context clues I have assumed from the pictures I see posted on Facebook. I want to be able to hit play in my mind and yet again be walking through the warmth of a summer night  hearing the low babble of life reverberating throughout the old city. But all I can retrieve from the bland-office-beige file cabinet of my memory is freeze frame glimpses for which viewing is as effective as attempting to hold cupped hands filled with fine sand.

The people, the wonderful people, seem like those of a movie I saw quite a long time ago. I remember the characters, I remember the hour and a half in the theater when I thought the story would last forever but then the credits scrolled and the lights came back on and I was once again back in South Carolina.

People keep asking me “how was Europe?” and I can’t help but respond, “inexplicable” because there aren’t words for something like what I have experienced. No amount of storytelling will ever be able to bring 68 people back to a castle in the Austrian Alps. None. That kills me.

I remember when I first learned in physics that I had never really touched anything, but it had only been my atoms repelling against something else’s atoms. We can only ever know, feel an impression of something, never the real thing. That blew my mind. I remember slowly touching my desk and my chair and my book and my pencils trying in vein to make real contact with the items. It was impossible. It is equally impossible—however metaphorically—to touch this experience. I, we, all intimately know the shapes and shadows cast by the impression, like Plato’s cave, but it is frustrating because it can never be anything more than that.

I want to say that being home is like waking up from a dream, but that’s not entirely accurate because being back feels just as much a dream as being there felt real at the time. Maps confuse me now because I can’t quite grasp where on the planet I am.

Appropriately enough, given Salzburg’s cinematic history, it’s like trying to hold a moonbeam in your hand—impossible. A moonbeam is just light, real, visible, shimmering, vivid, frustratingly intangible light.

I know all of this and yet I continue to be disappointed when I open my hand and find nothing.

Day 10 – Florence, Frankfurt, and Charlotte

The return voyage began early, I mean really early. 4 AM early. For those of you who were in charlotte it was 10 at night, you were probably still up! By 5 we were at the airport and after some trouble getting my father a ticket because of the way his name was registered we were off and by 6:30 we were in the air. On the flight from Florence to Frankfurt I read my whole book for my Furman summer program and made copious notes in the margins. By 8:30 we were in Germany, we bummed around trying to find a place to grab lunch, and eventually settled on a little place with pizza and sandwiches, the name escapes me and the food was equally forgettable.

We eventually ended up at the gate, C4, and checked in. We underwent random questioning about our whereabouts and they took our passports like 106 times. By 12 we were airborne. 10 hours and many movies worth of cramped and horrible (but not as bad as the way there) flight later we touched down in the Queen City happy to be back in america.

Day 9 – The Uffizi Gallery

Our final day in italy dawned with me very excited, as this would be the day we would see the Uffizi Gallery. This is one of the most important art museums in the world. Some highlights are Duccio, Cimabue, and Gitto’s ”Madonna Enthroned”, some lesser known works of Dürer, some Rembrant self portraits, daVinci’s “Annunciation” the image you may know from the cover of your AP European History Textbook: Bronzino’s “Portrait of Eleanor of Toledo and Her Son”, Michelangelo’s “Doni Tondo”, Verrocio’s “The Baptism of Christ”The Wrestlers, Parmigianino’s Madonna with the Long Neck and Gentileschi’s “Judith Beheading Holofernes”  But what the museum is most notable for is the works of 2 artists Botticelli’s “Birth of Venus”, and Caravaggio’s Bacchus and Medusa. There is so much more but that is about a quick of an overview as I can do. We arrived to the at 10 and left around 1 making only the most cursory viewing of everything, and with me attempting to act as a tour guide all along the way. My sister found a new favorite painting, it is called the “Portrait of the Dwarf Morgante” from the Bronzino room. It was fascinating to see all the works that I had studied in art history! Mrs. Crawford, my art history teacher, would have smiled seeing me so excited over old canvases.

After the Uffizi we returned to the market from yesterday because my sister wanted to buy an Italian ring, but not something super expensive. So we made the 20 minute or so walk down and look around until she found just what she wanted. By this time however, all our legs were getting mighty sore from walking all day, mine particularly, but there were things we still wanted to see so we continued on.

Next stop was the Basilica of Santa Croce, this is an absolutely beautiful church with amazing art where Dante, Galileo, Ghiberti, Machiavelli, and Michelangelo are buried to name a few. We stayed here a while admiring the monuments to the different historical figures and then were on our way to the Duomo or Florence Cathedral, here we saw Ghiberti’s baptistry doors and entered the massive church.

After this we wanted to get some snacks for the airplane the next day so we walked across the Ponte Vecchio to grab some things to keep us full as we traveled. Just as we were leaving the grocery store laden with snacks it began to rain, and it rained harder and harder and harder until all of a sudden I was caught in another torrential downpour and soaked through. My jeans and shirt clung to my legs in wet folds, the umbrella had been no shield of protection from the rain which had flown sideways at us.

Thankfully we were not far from the hotel and could get inside soon, drenched and dripping we took the elevator up to our room to change and decide on a place for dinner.

After quite a to-do picking different place s and checking them out online against price range and quality we eventually landed on Ciro and Sons, it is a blend of upscale and fun dining we ordered a few dishes and all shared them, pasta bolognese for Katey, lasagna for dad, and pesto fettucini for me, we all had a little bit of everyone else’s, fortunately for me, no one really liked mine best but I loved it, so I got most of it to myself.

After dinner we walked back toward the Duomo for some gelato, we had heard that the best in Florence was a place called GROM (you like I may find that name familar, that’s because there are locations in the New York, in Greenwich Village just off Bleecker street is where I had seen it before. If you have not been to GROM before, the next time you are in New York City please do me a favor and treat your taste buds to the sensation they deserve and go to one of their three locations. I had a medium cone with three flavors Strawberry, Creme de Grom, and Nougat.

In the Chronicles of Narnia C.S. Lewis tells of a time when Lucy reads a story on the Island of the Magician Coriarken in The Voyage of the Dawn Treader which she cannot remember by the time she is finished reading it, but is so wonderful that whenever she hears a story later in life which she calls “good” it is one which reminds her of that story she read in Narnia. I have a similar experience with strawberry ice creme, there is place which once existed in charlotte called Lollicups which had the best strawberry smoothie I had ever tasted in my life. When I taste a strawberry which reminds me of that long forgotten Lollicups taste it is what I call good. This strawberry did. Thus GROM is amazing. But the nougat and the creme de grom were also very good!

We walked down the still wet cobblestone street of Florence savoring the final moments of Italian air (Sidebar: in the city this was filled with smoke and pollution) Eventually returning back to the hotel to put the finishing touches on packing and go to sleep.

Day 9 – Cooking in the Countryside

The market bustled with Florentines as we and our teacher/chef Barbara (not the same as the one from rome) bought fresh fruits and vegetables for our meal: Fresh tomatoes of many different varieties, zucchini, red peppers, yellow peppers, rasberries, and more. And fresh meats: chicken and pancetta (kind of like bacon but not cured the same way.) And fresh focaccia bread. All these things filled many shopping bags which we carried with us out to the car.

It was only a short drive back out of the city and into the countryside once more. It only took a second of driving for the streets to level out and turn back into farm once more. Barbra’s house was a lovely place situated on a small hill in a field, it was surrounded by trees and the sun streamed in through all the windows. We took the bags and carried them around the back of her house and into her kitchen. Her kitchen was all at once unassuming and homely and then simultaneously professional and capable.

Our menu was:

  • Antipasto: salami and prosciutto with various cheeses and breads

This is pretty easy to make, all you do is to take the meats and cheeses and put them on a big plate. The highlight of this course was the focaccia bread. It was salty and savory and the best focaccia I have ever tasted. It made wonderful little finger sandwiches of the meats and cheeses and it did a great job sopping up the remnants of the first course left in my bowl.

  • First Course: home made pasta with tomato and pancetta sauce

For the sauce we had to blanche and peel all the tomatoes and dice both the pancetta and blanched tomatoes into a pan. This simmered with some other ingredients (I think) for a while as we rolled our own pasta. First we needed to make the dough with high gluten flour and eggs then roll it all up and kneed it for quite some time. After this it is ready to be cut into little cubes and rolled into long thing spagetti noodles. The rolling process is lengthy and quite frustrating except for the thought of eating what you are spending hours rolling out. It took the whole class, 8 of us, over an hour to get them all done. these spagettis were lumpy and no where near perfect noodles. They were boiled for 2 mins and then the sauce and noodles were mixed to create a luscious tasting pasta dish.

  • Second Course: stuffed vegetables and chicken with cheese, mustard, and pancetta

The vegetables needed to be cut and laid out while the cheeses, capers and herbs were mixed together in a bowl, then the cheese and herb mix was dolled out into the open cut veggies. They were baked and tasted wonderful. Little savory and crunchy morsels of goodness. For the meat the chicken had been pre-pounded by the butcher so that it was in flat filets, those filets were covered in mustard and then strips of fresh parmesan were laid  in the mustard. After this the whole thing was rolled up into a ball and a strip or two of pancetta was wrapped around it it was cooked. These little chicken and pancetta wraps were one of the best things I ate the whole time in Italy. I cant even begin to describe the way that those flavors worked, the chicken was not dry at all and perfectly accented by the other ingredients. You can imagine, im sure what it tasted like.

  • Desert: raspberry tart

To begin making this, first we had to make the dough for the crust. Roll it out, freeze it for 15 minutes and place it around the pan. Then the tart part was made and mixed with vanilla and brought to a boil. The tart was poured into the pan with the crust and garnished with fresh rasberries and cooked. It was brought out just before we realized that we were too full to go on and it was again delicious.

After cooking the meal we all sat down to eat it. We started with wine, sparkling white for me, and continued down the menu until we had all had our fill. Amazing food, and my skills as a cook were definitely improved in this Italian cooking course.

The rest of the afternoon was relatively Uneventful. We were so full that all we could do was go back to the room and lay down for a while and by the time we got up my dad and sister were hungry for dinner and my mom and I came along for the ride. We walked an inordinately long distance to get to some touristy restaurant that apparently was only moderately good. Then stopped for gelato on the way back, I did not partake, still full from lunch.

Tired, full, and happy we went back to the room and faded into sleep.

Day 8 – Chianti to Florence

With much reluctance we departed the resort, the views, and the countryside altogether. We drove north to what is probably the most important city for art on planet earth. Florence, Italy.

We arrived to our hotel a little before 1 and in short order headed out to meet our guide, Bernardo, who would take us around the city and to the Academia. (with much of his own commentary and advice along the way.) Our first stop was the Academia. I had no idea what was in the Academia, I assumed that it was art of some sort but I did not know enough about it to know which pieces exactly were there.

When you first walk in there are metal-detectors, not primarily to check for bombs or guns but to check for hammers and chisels. After the metal-detectors we turned the corner only to see something which made me very happy: Michaelangelo’s famous unfinished masterpieces lining the gallery, my eye quickly went to Atlas, my favorite. in my attempt to find atlas my eye had stumbled upon something I did not expect to see here. Michaelangelo’s statue of David rose 20 feet above my head glistening white in the light streaming in from the skylight above it, it was magnificent. Sidebar: being here, in Italy, after taking art history is one of the most rewarding experiences I have ever had. Our guide ended up spending much of our time on the statue of David (during this time he claimed that EVERYONE’s favorite statue is one in descent of David – e.g. The Pietá or Moses – I thought this was funny because my favorite statue is the Hellenistic Greek Nike Of Sammothrace (see “About Me: Top 11 Favorite Pieces of Art.”)

After the Academia we ventured out through the streets and piazzas of  Florence until I felt a large rain drop. We decided it may be best to find some cover. What ensued was unlike any other rain storm I have ever experienced. It began with the largest drop I have ever seen when the hit the ground they made 2″ dark spots on the pavement. Those drops began to come faster and  faster. It poured buckets, rain literally whipping sideways in through the large open  doors of the building we were taking shelter in. In the video I posted you can see the torrential downpour falling out of the sky like the clouds had broken open, it doesn’t even come close to doing the real thing justice.  Hail flew on the biting breeze the size of marbles. An angry roar screamed through the air.

We waited it out. A few hours of feeling like the people from the day after tomorrow later and the rain had calmed to a dull drizzle. We returned to the hotel.

The rain was still falling as we walked to dinner at Yellow Bar. It felt like eating in Black Mountain. Quaint and authentic, I had spaghetti with white sauce, clams, mussels, squid, and shrimp. It was the best meal I have had by far here. We of course had gelato (Carmel in a chocolate and nut cone for me) before turning in for the night.

Day 7 – Biking in Chianti

The morning dawned clear and bright much to the dismay of The Weather Channel which had predicted rain all day. It turned out to be quite the contrary. Rather than a day cold and wet we were treated to a day hot and sweaty. We had a regular breakfast and bummed around the hotel for quite some time waiting for the tour which was to begin at 10.

10 rolled around and our tour guide, Elizabeth, showed up just as promised in the lobby of the hotel. We set off to the center of our small town, Castelnuovo Berardenga. After a short walk around the town where we made dinner reservations at the highly recommended Bengodi, and a brief safety lesson we were off, I must have started off far too quickly because before even a mile had passed I was about to pass out, this may be due in large part to the fact that I am utterly out of shape, or the fact that I didn’t bring my inhaler (yeah i’m lame and have asthma), or maybe it was heat exhaustion; or maybe a combination of the three. Whatever happened I had to endure the rest of the 10 miles alternating pushing and coasting and attempting to pedal from destination to destination.

We ended up stopping twice on our little journey, both places were quiet little towns, and as my mother put it “each was cuter than the one before.” Our final destination was Castel de Brolio where we went yesterday, but today we skipped the wine tasting and went to the osteria, which was fantastic. It had a dining room all walled in glass which allowed you to look out over all the vineyards and see everything: the medieval castle, the olive groves and the grape vineyards. While we ate it began to storm as well so we actually got to see some lighting strike the hills and plains. I had roasted duck and fries for lunch. (Duck was interesting, it tasted kinda like sausage.)

After lunch we parted from Elizabeth, the bike guide, and returned to Villa Curin for some much needed shower and rest time. After a few hours of “chilling” (me catching up on House curled up in my bed, my sister watching Kung Fu Panda in her bed) we returned to Castelnuovo Berardenga to make our reservation at 7 for Bengodi. The recommendations were more than accurate, I had the house light cheese, house wine, bread oil and vinegar, and for a main course Ravioli with butter and sage, it was delightful. After we all went to get gelato (I had cookie dough) and then returned, full and happy, just in time to watch the last vestiges of sun set over both the beautiful countryside and our stay here in Chianti.

Day 6 – Brolio, San Gimingano and Siena

When I awoke the sun was already drenching the countryside in its warmth and light. My father and I rose earlier than my sister and mother and we went ahead to breakfast. I filled my plate with eggs, Italian bacon, bread with jam, and juice. A delightful start to the day.

My father and I lounged around much of the morning waiting for my sister and mom to wake and join us. Eventually they did and after their breakfast we began to plan our day. To do this we spread out occupying a corner of the lobby of our hotel in all our books and papers in an attempt to lay a path for the day. Eventually we determined our route and set out.

We began the day at a Castle in the small hilltop village of Brolio which doubles as a winery. Here we partook of a wine tasting. I tried many different types: a wonderful white wine a lovely red, a rosé?, and my personal favorite, a desert wine, Granello Tuscana. I actually ended up buying the Granello Tuscana because I liked it so much! Unfortunately my parents have decided that when we get back to america we will be following the laws which keep me from drinking it until my 21st birthday.

We left Brolio to set out for San Gimingano. We expected it to be a 20-30 minute drive, but it turned out to be an hour. We went here mainly due to the recommendations from many different people who had been to Italy before. When we arrived in the small village we parked in front of a supermarket. I was skeptical. To enter the main section of the town there was a marble staircase and many marble courtyards in between them. Unfortunately it began to rain just as we pulled in and when marble gets wet and you wear shoes with literally zero traction you begin to slip and slide as if you are walking on ice. I had to step delicately which made me look ridiculous to the people walking all around us. We ended up walking on marble for a few minutes and then the surface changed a few more times as we climbed stairs and sloping roads. Finally we left the typical area for one a bit more fantastic. As I climbed the final staircase a great mediaeval city with towers and stone walls and narrow streets opened before me. It was a sight to behold. The streets were lined with shops, the scents of their wares wafting out into the crowded thoroughfare. Wine, pizza, leather, and other trinkets and gifts could be seen and smelled and tasted as we soaked in the quaint town. We walked around the streets and eventually arrived in the main piazza. Here we stopped to have gelato from the world gelato champion. It really did live up to its title. I had carmel and it was sumptuous on the tongue. After our snack we climbed up a place where the town, situated on a hilltop, overlooked the valley. The view was breathtaking. Once I had finished taking in this view (with both my eyes and camera) I stopped to take some pictures of the surrounding area, things such as flowers and leaves. When I looked up I thought my family had already gone so, in an effort to catch up to them, I went back the way we had come. This was not the case. I ended up back at the car with the family no where in sight. So, I took the climb all the way back up to the lookout where my father stood claiming that they had never left, and were sorely wondering where I had been off to. He and I climbed down through the town and met my mother and sister at the supermarket where we had entered. They had gone in to buy my sister some Frosted Flakes for breakfast seeing as she did not quite favor the international flavors we were currently experiencing. After this and an experience with one of those European pay-to-pee tolites (quite a weird custon) the whole family piled back in the car and headed off to Siena.

Now the rigmarole that we underwent in Siena is one of the strangest ones we had experienced up to then in Italy. Stress levels ran high as our adventure unfolded. What happened: When we rented the car in Rome they gave us a TomTom so that we could get around while we were traveling, what anyone neglected to tell us was that the TomTom did not know the difference between streets one could drive down and those which one is not allowed to, or even able to drive down. The GPS took us, just as it said it would, right into the center of town. Sidebar: cars are not allowed in downtown Siena except by special permit. We began to wind our way through the maze of streets no larger that a foot wider than the car. It was tight, and the cramped feeling came almost all at once, we were driving on a road around town and then all of a sudden we were trapped turning with the GPS, and soon after we entered the stone labyrinth the signal for that was lost, flying blind in . Come to find out later that driving in downtown Siena is punishable by a €100 fine, we think that a camera may have been tracking our misdeeds.  eventually however we escaped our prison after many an anxious word within the small car (which seemed to get smaller as we went) and made it to one of the designated parking areas. We walked over to dinner, guided by a couple from Brittain who did know the restaurant and had been before, we ran into them as we exited the parking garage all in a tizzy (coincidence? I think not.) Dinner was simply fabulous I had these wonderful ricotta and spinach dumplings (big cheese balls) over a delicious meat sauce such as you would get on spaghetti. When I combined the dumplings and the sauce it was one of the best meals I had eaten thus far. After a tour of the restaurant’s wine cellar (a room which dated back to Etruscan times, crazy I know) we made the hour-long trek back to Villa Curina. The day drew to a close in a view of the sky painted in pastel lavender as the sun sunk deep behind the rolling Tuscan mountains.

Day 5 – Rome to Chianti

I awoke to the wonderful greeting of the good granola in the breakfast room. To explain the difference is that the good stuff has fruit and raisins in it and the not so good stuff is all dry and yucky. The day before they had had the yucky stuff and I was unhappy. When you are in Italy, or any other country where most people don’t speak english you end up striking up a conversation with anyone one who does, we did this this morning and we actually ended up meeting a couple who lives just down from us in Eastover, which seems pretty crazy to have to come halfway around the world to meet someone who lives 10 minuets from your front door!

After breakfast we headed up to the room and finished packing, somehow no matter how much or little you bring on a trip your bags always get fuller, even if you aren’t shopping all day long! But nevertheless we packed up and moved all our stuff into the lobby where the bellman helped up get them into a cab to take over to the car rental place. W ended up renting a really cool little European car, it didn’t even have automatic drive, pretty crazy stuff. We got all the paperwork sorted out and we got our TomTom and we were on our way.

After a bit of confusion getting out of the city we were off down the roman road (no idea if this is what it’s called.) It took just an hour or so to get to Chianti and far before we arrived in Castelnuovo Berardenga the hustle and bustle of the big city faded slowly into rolling hills, small villas and hilltop castles. The movies do it justice, painting the utterly beautiful landscape of wine country as it deserves. The car flew past vistas faster than my camera could capture them. Thought the window of the car I saw luscious greens and delicate yellows dapple the landscape.

Eventually we arrived at our hotel, Villa Curina, which overlooked the greatest of the views we had seen thus far, olive orchards, vineyards, and small villas with those clay roofs which are so ubiquitous here.

We ended up back in the car. We wanted to head out to look for a place to eat, after looking all around the hotel and restaurant and not finding anything that was not either too expensive or not appetizing. So we grabbed the TomTom and went off to look for a small family run restaurant  in Giaole, a quaint little market town that we enjoyed browsing through.  Unfortunately when we arrived we found out that the restaurant did not exist, so we moved on to our next choice: Badia a Coltibuono. It looked really good, there was a church and a castle, the restaurant looked wonderful, there was only one problem, it was a little after 5 and it did not open until 7:15! So, we hopped back in the car and headed to the next choice, a restaurant in Volpaia called La Bottega. When we got out of the car and started to explore the little village we were overwhelmed by how utterly awesome it was. Literally about a quarter mile square, it was small and on a hilltop with just a church some residences, and the restaurant. but this one did not open until 7, and it was only 6. In frustration we returned to the car and ventured off to the next choice  in the neighboring town of Radda. This town was the largest we had been too so far today and was wonderfully quaint. But, if you can guess the pattern as it continued this restaurant was again not open.

We regrouped. Eventually deciding that we would return to Volpaia to eat at La Bottega. That decision was not a bad one. It was some of the best food I have ever had. Fresh, smooth wine (that I actually enjoyed) and Italian bread and fresh olive oil and vinegar. For a first course I had tortellini, which were more like ravioli, covered with mushrooms and cheese and that were scrumptious, and for a second course I had pork cooked in herbs and cheese with these little tomatoes filled with delectable cheeses and herbs.

After dinner we were looking for a gelato place and the Australian family at the table next to us recommended a few places in the area. We ended up back in Radda where I had a wonderful cone split half of  Carmel and half of vanilla. Here we met a team of archeologists from Florida State on an Etruscan dig in the area who my mom talked to for quite a while.

After dinner we took the half hour drive from Radda back to Villa Curina and in short order curled up and went directly to sleep.

Day 4 – Ancient Rome

My iPhone played the Glee version of “Empire State of Mind” at 7:00 to wake me. I rose and woke the rest of my family. I showered and headed down to breakfast. To my dismay the granola was different from yesterday and not nearly as tasty, but they did have pineapple juice today as well as orange juice which was interesting to try.

After breakfast we all headed downstairs to catch a cab to the church of  San Clementé where our private tour would begin. Barbara, the same tour guide from yesterday, met us and we headed out on our way. First stop: gladiator training grounds. Directly next to the Colosseum, these ruins once were the place where gladiators would live and train. Barbra told us that if they were well loved by the crowds and especially by the caesar then they could be set free.

Next stop: The Colosseum. This monstrous structure is breathtaking in person. How it was constructed in only 8 years and all with only hand tools and slave labor baffles me. The tour of the Colosseum was followed by a viewing of the towering Arch of Constantine. We walked past it, admiring it as we went on our way to the ancient forum. We entered and walked past many an active archeological dig and throughout all the ruins. It was surreal to see the pictures from years of geography books live and in person. (The greatest thing Barbara said that day, and maybe ever, was an Italian saying that roughly translates to “The mother of a stupid person is always pregnant”)

The thing that I was most excited to see while we were in Rome was the church of St. Ignatius which houses some of the most beautiful baroque art in the world. The ceiling of this church is home to one of my top 11 favorite prices of art “The Glorification of St. Ignatius” (see About Me) and it is the first on this list that I have actually seen in person. It was a spellbinding experience.

The final stop on our tour of ancient Rome (after my little requested detour) was the Pantheon. The roof of this astounding work of architecture was constructed from a single piece of volcanic rock which is impressive when you note the sheer size of the dome. Here we saw the tombs of the two King’s of Italy as well as Raphael. But after this landmark our tour was up and we left Barbara with directions to the Spanish Steps in the Piazza de Spagna.

To get there we walked down the Via del Corzo (the 5th avenue of Rome) admiring the lavish clothing we saw around us. On our way to the famed Spanish Steps we were looking for something Italian to eat when we came upon a sign “McDonalds 200 meters.” So we stopped. It was literally the coolest McDonald’s I’ve ever been in, it was like though a tunnel and then everyone spoke Italian and it was crazy. The whole thing had marble floors and arched ceilings. It was epic.

After our not so American, American adventure we arrived at and climbed the Spanish Steps. These steps are a pain to climb and I’m still confused as to why they were so important, but nevertheless we climbed them and then headed back to the hotel. After a rest we went out to get some dinner.

My dad had looked up a place for pizza the day before and when we went it was again not open so we returned again tonight, but again it was closed, so we adventured  around the neighborhood until we came upon a place we thought looked good. I ordered mushroom and ham calzone and I was literally the best calzone I have ever had. I tried the house wine again tonight and it was far better than the house wine last night. Last night’s wine was really dry and not appealing for a first taste but tonight was a bit more palatable, especially for me, a first timer. We again went the gelato place from last night where I got an overwhelming strawberry flavor. As I went to bed I thought about how I can’t really believe we’re here, every time I look out the window I re-realize that we are in Italy!