to climb.

The wrong way: substitute yeast for baking powder when trying to recreate biscotti you saw in a bakery window somewhere in downtown Milano.

The Wright way: serve everyone anywho, telling them it was “meant to be eaten with COFFEE, that’s why.”

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I find it difficult sometimes to consistently keep this blog updated. I suppose I’ll add it to my list of things to do. It’s amazing how that list has grown the longer I’ve been living here.

So the 20 of us got back from our first week-long trip north on Friday night/Saturday morning, after our train from Milano to Roma broke down for at least an hour and a half [I guess you could say they don't TRAIN their engineers very well]. The free peanuts and nonsensical snack-cart Italians didn’t do well to fix our exhaustion, teetering on anger as we crankily tried to make our way home. Seeing as I’m used to crowds because of my close proximity to NYC, my designated “taxi group” and I got our cab quickly after I managed to make my way to the front of the taxi queue to everyone’s astonishment. A british couple started to get a bit fussy, but I beat them to the taxi, and we were on our way home. The most exciting part was our taxi driver’s misgiving at the realization that we were American. He didn’t speak a drop of English, so Speer, Claire, Andrew and I proceeded to direct him over the bridge to Trastevere with our best Italian.

After the driver took us around an extra block and stocked up on cab fare, Andrew finally said stop. We got out, the fare being a total of 11,00. The man told me it was 21,00 because of the luggage in the trunk. Then he tried to shortchange us.
Surprisingly enough, it’s not the first time this week that locals have financially taken advantage in small ways.

Out of all the cities we visited, Firenze and Milano were the most memorable. I think it’s the fact that we got to climb a duomo in each location, which is nothing like climbing lemon trees.

However, I’ll get back to i duomi later because I feel the need to elaborate on my waffle-adorned gelato in Firenze which cost 6,00. First of all, I was in it for the cherry gelato, not the waffle. I didn’t even ask for a waffle! I’ve never put waffles on my gelato, or gelato on my waffles. I do not know why there was a waffle on my gelato. I also don’t know why they offered Absinthe to go with my gelato with waffle. I don’t think any of this is a tradition anywhere.
[It’s interesting to note that the artisans don’t try to rip off their customers as much as the small-change workers do. That gelato place, for example, has a fixed price for Americans at 6,00. At the flea market this past Sunday morning, I was able to haggle down a local artisan.]

The gelato was good in the end for quieting my sweet tooth, but walking back to the hotel room and relaxing with a few people after that day left me feeling completely satisfied; sugar rush, resentment at being ripped off, and aches had worn thin. We were in Firenze. We had climbed to the top of Il Duomo. We had survived the hotel staff.




The one thing that I wanted out of visiting Rome was the chance to see Il Duomo in “person.” I wanted to be able to know what Vyt’s drawings were trying to describe. I wanted to be able to stand in its piazza and take it all in. The legend behind the engineering of the structure, the secrets Brunelleschi kept from the world concerning the intricacies of his masterpiece—every time it was mentioned in a class or discussion, I found myself immediately paying attention.

That day, I found myself crawling through winding passageways of stairs [definitely not regulation or ADA in any way] leading to the absolute top of the dome of Basilica di Santa Maria del Fiore. Getting through passageways, flights, and crumbling stone that took 170 years and at least three different architects to complete.

It was interesting maneuvering through the interior of the dome on the vertical path. It was a bit unpredictable, shooting up at strange angles and requiring a bit of upper body strength and some railings to hoist your body. Since the dome is octagonal, built without a wooden frame, and double-shelled, it makes sense that the climb would… not make sense. During construction, it was a mystery to even the workers exactly how they would complete it. Brunelleschi and Donatello created a model out of brick and wood, demonstrating the technique in order to sell the design, but the model was intentionally incomplete so the architect could have absolute control over the construction [a good, classic example from the books describing conflict between architects and construction workers].
Upon reaching the top, we could see all of Firenze. It was incredible. The wind was brutal up there, but it was worth it to finally be able to experience first-hand what I’ve been curious about for three years.

After climbing down and continuing our day of sketching, to my delight I realized what a landmark the dome is. Even from far away, the radiating lantern and Da Vinci’s bronze ball which adorns the lantern perpetually paints the sky with a reminder of its existence.




Besides New York’s, it’s the one skyline that has burned itself into my memory.