Notes of a Passionate Traveler: Urbino, Italy

Italy is Beauty

2009-07-25T01:32:00.000-07:00

Defining Italy brings to mind many words: faith, love, beauty, art, history, death. But if I had to chose one, I'd pick beauty. Each town I've visited in Italy inspires me in a different way. Rome, history and intrigue. Florence, art and contemplation. Capri, beauty and mysticism. Pompeii, archeology and death. Anacapri, creation and awe. Brescia, design and appreciation. Moniga, landscape and tranquility. I could go on and on. But I'd rather you see for yourself.

When a place inspires you, when it opens up feelings hindered by the cement walls and temperature controlled rooms you live in, you are forever changed. Some for good, others for new affinity for home wherever that may be. Italy is not my home, yet it is. I keep it in my heart when in Texas and Arkansas. I look for it and find it in the small areas of my world.

Arkansas may not boast frescoes of colorful angels on my ceiling as the palace in Brescia did, but I do find color. Houston, Texas certainly would be miserable in the hot, humid summer without A.C. but on the cool windy days I am reminded of the smell of Italy's air.

Living among a new culture allows me to reflect and realize what exactly I love about life. When abroad, you tend to group your favorite things in two categories. One: Things I Can't Wait To Get Home To: the love of my life, my two dachshunds, family, friends, my sense of security; all things not replaceable. And Things I Will Miss: gelato, unprocessed food, the Italian language, pasta, mosaics, walking instead of driving; cultural aspects.

Does this mean I belong to a culture that is not mine? Was I born in the wrong country? Do I have Italian blood running through this mixed breed of Irish, Scottish and who knows what else? Or do I just simply appreciate a way of life that I want to incorporate in my own?

Dinners where conversation can overrun the meal. Mid-day breaks where one can re-charge. A city that remains true to tradition. I can infuse these practices into my lifestyle. It's possible in America. But before I turn on that t.v. and settle in for the evening, I must remember that reality cannot be captured in a box. It must be experienced outside, in creation, where beauty is ultimately mimicked in art. And I can find that everywhere.

But I am glad I found it in Italy.

Saint of Urbino Story

2009-07-24T16:44:00.000-07:00

Check out www.inurbino.net to read my story on San Crescentino: Urbino's Patron Saint.
The legend, tradition and faith has been fascinating to learn about.

2009-07-19T00:59:00.000-07:00

Saturday afternoon, we headed out of Urbino for a 25 minute car ride to the countryside town of Orsaiola. A painting called Madonna Del Giro travels between churches, no matter how big or small. Processions are celebrations often used for honoring saints but on this occasion the piece of art depicting Mary was the reason for the procession. The purpose of this procession was to bring the painting from one church in Orsaiola in the region of Urbania to another church, Chiesa di San Nicola, located less than 5 miles away.

Rain clouds gathered over the church making us question if the procession would be possible. An umbrella was tucked away in my purse but I was hoping I wouldn't have to use it. This was my first procession.

The procession would start once the painting was loaded up and driven to the starting point. The march's starting point was down the road because otherwise it would have been too far to walk. The walk was among and up hills.

The sun came out and the rain clouds cleared once the painting left the church.

The procession was equip with a band that played upbeat songs reminding me of one from The Godfather. Check this out: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yRxK-3buon0

Old and young together played.

The procession was led by the painting, followed by the priests who said prayers in between the band's songs. The faithful followed behind.

Carried by four men, the painting made its way to the new church escorted by Carabinieri.

About 300 people walked in the procession. They murmured prayers led by the priest as we climbed the hill to Chiesa di San Nicola.

A steady but slow pilgrimage to the top. Wearing sandals, my feet began to hurt on the gravel road but I did not complain because women all around me wore heels.

Our destination. When we arrived, mass was performed outside. After this hour long mass, meat sandwiches were passed out and a choice between water, wine or soda was to be made.

The bells rang as if to encourage and welcome our climb to the top.

The hills and country side below. The smell of incense surrounded us as we marched one mile.

Miles and miles of hills, trees, farm land, sunflowers and wild flowers set the scene.

Band and angels.

The angels at the top.

Keeping It Local

2009-07-16T10:37:00.000-07:00

It was an adventure filled day. My alarm went off at 3:30 a.m. so I could be ready to leave by 4 for the coast. On assignment for a fish story, two group members and I followed a local fish truck to see how they gather their gold.
We snaked around curvy roads, arriving at Rimini, close to Pesaro, in about an hour. When we arrived, we went into a smelly room filled with fish, squid, crab, lobster, mussels, sardines and even sting ray. The workers hauled each iced filled containers onto a conveyor belt that ran across a sort of fish stage that men from above inspected before keying in their orders.
The prices were projected on the wall above and depending on the quantity of the day's catch varied from high to low. We asked where we could film the boats that brought in the fish and were soon led down the block where the Adriatic was waiting to greet us.
About 100 boats of all shapes and sizes were anchored in the bay. We walked around and saw fisherman unloading their nets. They were a happy lot. As we made our way back to the car, the owner of the Urbino market asked if we would join them for an espresso before heading back to town. Our Italian counterparts did not speak English and we little Italian, but we managed to have a delightful exchange.
On the way back, I counted the hours I could sleep until my next task, but I ran into another group member who was on her way to interview a cheese maker. "Why not?' I thought. So I loaded up and was off to see cheese.

This is fresh cheese.

Production of ricotta.

The big pot of cheese.

A day's hard work.

What a joy it was to see how fresh indeed the food is here in Urbino. The efforts of the citizens is to be celebrated.

Siempre Eat, Drink and Be Merry

2009-07-14T17:22:00.000-07:00

Our sommelier, Otello Renzi, described each wine and how it's paired with food.

The most glasses I have ever had at one meal. A total of 5 different wines and 5 courses of food. The Italians know how to create an experience and unforgettable memory out of a meal.

Antipasto, the first course consisting of ricotta cheese, caicesta (a special cheese made in this area), salami, quiche and prosciutto.

The second course consisted of pasta with mushrooms. But I was focused on tasting the wine.

Third course, pasta with beef and mushrooms. Delightfully paired with white wine.

Fourth course, meat from cow and pig. Well-seasoned for this picky meat eater. Vegetarians would turn carnivore over this specialty. Zucchini and tomato accompanied the meat.

At the end of four hours, dessert was served. Fresh berries topped the cake with a creamy icing that was more smooth and cool than sweet.

At the conclusion of this extraordinary dinner, espresso was served. The food and wine were of the highest taste and class. The outdoor setting added to the experience. Fifty of us, mostly American and then generous Italian hosts, took in the fresh air from a table that sat us all comfortably with candlelight illuminating the scene.

As one diner put it, it was a complete "feast of the senses." Entrance to Serra Alta.

The restaurant is called Serra Alta in Fermingnano, Italy. It also serves as a bed and breakfast. www.serraalta.it

Urbino is lived on the outside

2009-07-12T05:29:00.000-07:00

Windows and doors stay open at many residences to let in cool air, the neighbor's house on the right posted a sign announcing away on vacation.

We enjoyed breakfast with espresso outside; I could not pick just one dolce.

Serving as background to Urbino, this scene appears in the background in one of Raphael's painting.

Delicious lunch of pomodoro and mozzarella mixed in noodles made with egg and gnocchi on the side. The potato is 3piante's version of french fries, rosemary and olive oil grilled slices.

Bikes and, of course, feet are the main mode of transportation here.

Sun sets into the mountains.

Tower in Cagli, Italy

2009-07-12T05:10:00.000-07:00

This tower was constructed in 1481 by Francesco di Giorgio Martini for Duke Federico da Montefeltro. The architect called this tower his best for it had a secret passageway that linked tower to fortress.

Built in 1481, you can scale the tower stairs and have a lovely view of Cagli, Italy located less than a 30 minute drive from Urbino.

One lovely view of many!

Inside the tower.

Ready to withstand the enemy.

Italy Spoils

2009-07-10T08:53:00.000-07:00

Light ravioli served with zucchini, marrow and mushrooms lathered in rich creme sauce.

Perfect porch for a long lunch.

This beautiful porch was the setting for a mouth-watering lunch. The fresh bread was hard to put down as we waited. Sounds of children playing graced our table. Across the narrow street was a playground full of kids laughing, running and swinging. In the middle of July, the cool breeze prevented the red wine from making me too hot. The waitress quickly asked where we were from and when I replied Arkansas, she grabbed my arm and smiled saying, "Oh beautiful, America." By the time lunch arrived, the children were inside. The folded noodles were delicate and light in a heavy cream sauce. My hunger and palate were satisfied however I could not skip dessert after this wonderful tasting food. I order creme carmel. I always contest I do not like flan, but my plate was taken away empty of such protests.

As the waitress set down the bill, she asked, "Did you eat well?" I answered, "Yes, it was so good." She smiled, "I'm happy." If only she knew how happy I was to have a 2 hour meal devoid of any rush and of exquisite taste at only 15 euros.

Urbino at Dusk

2009-07-09T15:16:00.000-07:00

Hilltop view of the town at dusk. The bells rang in the half hour of 9.

Balcony in town. These flowers are supposed to repel zanzara.

2009-07-09T04:19:00.000-07:00

As I've wandered through Italia in previous years, I have become intrigued by the prevalence of dead people from thousands of years before. Italy's art and rich history is a huge reason people find themselves here. What I want to understand is the stories behind the statues and monuments.
I've heard of ancestor worship in China and thought 'that is crazy'. But then I considered the saints in the Catholic tradition. San Crescentino lived in this region close to 2,000 years ago, and people are still talking. Who will we be talking about 2,000 years from now?
Walking through Urbino, I stumbled upon two statues and one painting depicting the legend of the saint of Urbino, San Crescentino. I read in, Italian Education, that each city in Italy has a patron Saint and Urbino has Crescentino.
He stands tall as he slays his dragon, which symbolizes evil, in the image below. One doesn't have to search for this saint. He keeps showing up in image after image here. I asked the bishop of the Duomo today about Crescentino and he said, "Everyone knows him but none try to imitate".

A replica of an original, San Crescentino was placed this year in an Urbino square on the first day of June to celebrate the day of feast held in his honor.

Very interesting take

2009-07-08T14:58:00.000-07:00

One in 8 Million from the New York Times is a collection of pieces that is worthy of time. Check out these character stories that distinguish the citizens of New York.

Link:
http://www.nytimes.com/packages/html/nyregion/1-in-8-million/index.html

Inside City Walls

2009-07-07T09:35:00.000-07:00

Perhaps not all who entered Urbino were always welcome but the grand door that once stood as the main entrance to Urbino no longer exists. As I made my way into the city, up the long stretch of hill, I thought what an intimidating but glorious entrance it must have been and is today.
Outside the Duomo (or Cathedral), I saw another dog patiently waiting for its owner. As I passed the faithful companion and entered the church I was struck by the pure grander of the building. The elegance of this massive holy place is astounding. The ceiling reaches 50 meters or about 164 feet at its highest point. Detail after intricate detail draws the eye above and around. Art depicting Bible scenes are referenced in a delicate but powerful fashion.
With a prayer whispered from a kneeling position, I headed towards the door with the intention to light a candle in Catholic tradition. To my disappointment, instead of spreading the light with another burning flame, here one must instead flip a switch. I refused.
The natural element of fire is representative of God’s creation. Electricity is creation however the idea of the eternal flame, that light can never be overcome by darkness is somehow less effectively conveyed through plastic and tubing.
In childhood, I remember seeing the red glass protecting the flame that was never extinguished. Would leaving the switch in the up position be the modern day equivalent? Signs of modern times encroach on this ancient city. The video surveillance in the streets, the cranes in the distance, the main square’s neon sign announcing events and these candles all point to a reality that some things cannot stay the same.
In a country where things cannot stay the same, I’m happy to report pride is still taken in a fresh meal made with the best ingredients served in a relaxed and inspiring atmosphere. My friends and I had a tasty and relaxed lunch at 3piante overlooking a lush landscape made of various shades of green. One glass of the casa’s vino bianco coupled with verdure pizza satisfied not just the belly but more importantly the taste buds. One comrade asked a local Italian what the drinking age was in Italy.
“No doesn’t exist.”
Short pause.
“Yes exists, but I think it is 16. But non important, I was 12, 13…
it is not a big deal.”
Moderation is a key to maintaining a balance in life. The Italians do not seem to get worked up over children being introduced to a substance of the world that can bring both pleasure and pain. What better setting than home to teach such a lesson.
But then I’m only an outsider and perhaps my opinions are not always welcomed.

View of porch dining at 3piante restaurant in Urbino

Verdure e vino courtesy of 3piante

Tower and Duomo, notice the crane ready for an assignment

No matches necessary. Click the metal switch for light.

Sunday Stroll

2009-07-05T14:05:00.000-07:00

Flea Market in Urbino: Military symbol from Venice

I was surprised to find Urbino's squares full of people on Sunday afternoon. I went down to write and observe in a quiet spot but found myself distracted by the flea market set up on tables in the street and day tourists that graced the shop doors. The specialized shops were closed as I had imagined, but the tourist shops were open for the surge of buses that brought visitors into town. The Raphael exhibit, which closes 12th of July after three months of display in the Duke's Palace or "Palazzo Ducale", remains a popular draw to outsiders in Urbino, the very birthplace of this honored artist.

On the edge of Urbino's walls

History speaks to be heard

Parking your dog in Urbino is easy, here this cane happily waits for his master.

San Crescentino, saint of Urbino

A walk in Urbino

2009-07-04T16:16:00.001-07:00

Urbino's alley: Side street leading to colorful doors

Knock, knock

A ledge of color

Urbino's Saturday Market

2009-07-04T15:53:00.000-07:00

Taking in the sounds and sights,
happy with the treat of walking in the market

Saturday mornings in Urbino can be spent at the traveling market which holds many items for both gazing and purchasing pleasure. As we sweat our way up the hill to the summit, the market stalls welcomed us for business amidst shady trees. One thing became apparent, this was the way to shop. Where can one get fresh squid, a lemon tablecloth, a functional but miniature suitcase and stop for espresso all in a few steps? Shoppers on a Saturday morning in Urbino.

Fresh squid for sale

Flowering gate in Urbino street

2009-07-04T15:43:00.000-07:00

Italian vending machine, box of vino anyone?

2009-07-03T14:14:00.000-07:00

Window scenes

2009-07-02T15:28:00.000-07:00

2009-07-02T15:21:00.000-07:00

First Day

2009-07-02T15:18:00.000-07:00

First day in Urbino
The hills are topped in towers. Here the Beatles would sing, sunflower fields forever. Fear was abundant as I flew in a sung seat from Newark to Rome. As I exited the plane, I thanked God for the miracle of safe flight. I thought my prayers were through, but as I tried not to look down during the 4-hour bus ride to Urbino from Roma, Our Father surfaced once again. The autostrada was narrow, the curves were wide and the trucks were dangerously close as the motorcycles sped on by. There was no median for mistake. I keep telling myself, the bus driver has done this a hundred times…but when he passed a truckload of rocks on a blind curve, I couldn’t have faith anymore. But we arrived and in one piece.
We are staying on the campus of the University of Urbino, which is outside the walled city. Windows open to reveal a scene made of green rolling hills and mountains dotted with the occasional home or structure. We have yet to explore the actual town but will soon. The university has done a great job of feeding us cafeteria style without the cafeteria taste. I’ve had gnocchi, fresh croissants, peaches, Nutella with fresh bread and water with every meal. No Cokes here unless you are willing to part with a few euros. However in the cafeteria vending machines, a Coke is .50 euros.
For a beer or box of wine, one needs not travel far. For the same amount of a Coke, one can purchase a fruit box containing enough to fill a glass of red or white vino. And one box is enough.

2009-06-25T17:12:00.000-07:00

I steady the wheel as I indulge in a true American breakfast: a Pop-Tart and a lukewarm Diet Coke. Searching for a parking spot, I hold to my stance that Baylor will not get any more of my finances in the form of a parking decal. It’s really not necessary if you role the dice and land on free parking. Parallel parking is a game where I'm often the loser. I cannot estimate the actual distance between my bumper and another car's rear but I have no choice if I want to park this giant. I grab my bag and head on foot to work.

I would be embarrassed in other circumstances, but my college logo, yesterday’s jeans and tennis shoes has to do for now. I’m a college counselor heading to her last week of meetings and I could not be happier. I love my students. I think about them after hours and wonder if they are indeed reading those chapters we talked about conquering or if they saw the tutor that penciled them in last minute. Their stories give me purpose and a mission. Tangible evidence is is hard to qualify, but I know planting seeds takes patience.

A Korean student from Seoul that is returning after a nine school month stay, told me she would miss Texas because it’s slower. Waco is a sanctuary compared to her home city. I can imagine it is but the reference point was lost. I long for Italian time.

I fantasize about Italian time, where time isn’t the enemy and you, the victim. I sit in Waco imaging a fuller life some 7-hour time difference away. And yet, here she is appreciating the city I am calling home for this time. What would she feel if she visited the places where dinner lasts 2 hours but feels like it has only begun? Where women may ride Vespas in high heels to work but take off helmets to let perfect hair fall loose? A place where wine isn’t the only thing that gets better with the passing time.

Although I’m on my way to listen as students describe the latest challenge, my time is limited here. I don’t know if my students will text home to report their GPA!!! lol! :0!! or opt to employ their legal right to avoid actual disclosure of specific averages to parents who so often finance the failure.

I believe in my 15 minute weekly meetings though. I offer guidance each week hoping that with the outside support provided, success will become practice. Some students that have mentors already get college. Two of mine are on the Dean’s list but have a need to discuss class issues not shared at dinner with sorority sisters or lunch with fellow majors.

By providing tuition remission, my job allows me to attend grad school. I want this degree and I’m checking off another requirement this summer by heading to Italy for 4 weeks. It’s a damn thing, isn’t it? Being forced to succumb to international travel in times like these? I have to rediscover a historic town with a few students from around the U.S. in order to communicate to other English readers that they too must know and see about this place.

Until I applied to this internship, Urbino wasn’t on my map. I have walked the streets of Rome, Florence, Capri, Venice, and a dusty Pompeii. But this is an unknown and I'm thrilled.

I will descend on this town and find out why it’s worthy of time and attention. Raphael was born in the area between mountains called Urbino. His paintings are waiting for ready eyes and curious souls. There are many other fabulous heritages only locals know that I must turn over to the public and hopefully influence the future tourist’s agenda.

However I have a confession. I haven’t even been there and I’m dreading sharing the secret. I've had a relationship with Italy. Three months in Italy is like a year in U.S. time. After my second visit, I quit my teaching job and set out for an International Journalism degree with aspirations to share my experiences and inspire others to travel. But not only to travel for travel's sake but to go, to unearth new ways of seeing, eating, thinking, and believing. Though I'm scared.

There’s a McDonald’s gawking at the Pantheon in Rome. The Pantheon stares back as if to say, “Try me”. The Pantheon tolerates the Big Mac because it has too. It didn’t chose the enclosing modernism that encroaches upon its space. The monument houses Raphael’s tomb, so as long as it continues not to sell anything but history at no cost, it can live with itself.

My mission while worthy, while exciting, and while surely life changing, leaves a lingering question: will this mission end up casting a seed of change in Urbino? It happened to Destin. Destin, Florida hosts the greenest, bluest, clearest waters and still does. However as sure as anything, catering to tourist has taken hold. When I was a child, my parents took me to the beach. The actual beach. Not the outlets, not the fancy restaurants, not the local Starbucks, but the beach. We made sand castles. We picked up trash left behind from others. We played board games at night if we had the energy from all the swimming and playing and eating shrimp from the local seafood market. We slept deep knowing another long day sitting in the sand, under the umbrella, with the ice chest, awaited us.

I love Destin's beaches but the traffic at times and the energy of the place deters excitement to visit. I guess it is the face paced lifestyle creeping into place that should encourage reflection. rather than the urge to pull out the Visa. The beautiful beach stretches further down where it is free of the toil development takes. A walk through the state park allows visitors to encounter species that call this area home. If dinner reservations can be cancelled and dark can be waited for, stars will usher in the feeling that not just grains of sand below out number us. This vibe truly matches the rhythm of the sea.

As I discover a new side of Italy, I’m shall travel with a new sense of respect for keeping this buried jewel pure. I don’t want it cut down, made into a bracelet, earrings and necklace. The natural state will do. I am anxious to experience a part of Italy that remains purer to its culture than to Mediterranean cruiser.

At least that’s what we've been told, and I can’t wait to tell.