water water everywhere

Genova (aka Genoa) is a port town that at times feels 100% the port town that it is. There's that certain transient feel in the air. You can buy anything and everything down skinny skittish alleyways. And there's a heck of a lot of neon.

But there's also an aquarium. A very large aquarium - in fact, the largest in Europe. And at 14 euro a ticket I would go so far as to say it's a bargain. We spent almost three hours in the place, and the only real complaint I had was that visitors are forced to walk through two gift stores in the process of visiting the museum. Which isn't as bad as Lincoln Park Zoo in Chicago where for a while, and maybe still, the koala lived in the gift store. So if you wanted to see the koala (and who doesn't) you had to go visit him in his charmingly comfortable and homey place of residence - the gift shop. Oh, and at the Aquarium when you enter you're forced to take a photo with a giant seal, a la the Mickey Mouse characters at Disney World but a lot more matted down.

The Aquarium is gigantic and multi-leveled with too many exhibits to count. You do have to suffer the pushing and shoving of toddlers who want to get close to the glass and bang out a hello to the fishies, but it's definitely worth it. There are a ton of tropical fish, jelly fish, dolphins, sharks, penguins, snakes, sting rays and... Like I said, too many creatures to count.



A lot of the exhibits feature multiple species and deeper into the aquarium they're what you would call "experiential." The area is designed as a ship that's set sail on the waters of the world, exploring different waterways and discovering which animals live where. The walk space is designed to feel like a ship on the water and you look over the sides to see the creatures below. Eventually you're moving through a mock jungle area, having landed your sea exploration, replete with vegetation scaling the walls. At this point your path is winding its way to the lower floor where you are then on equal footing with the tanks and the creatures within.

There are sea turtles and sea horses, sea anemones and clown fish. And sting rays that you can touch. Some of the rays would actually lift themselves up out of the water and undulate creepily. It's charming and beautiful when they're swaying and swooping through the water but it feels a little spookier when they're actually raising themselves out of the water and wiggling in the air.



I'll also add that the Aquarium is a great place to learn Italian. There are a lot of Italian parents speaking very slowly and sweetly to their Italian children, in Italian. And as an adult learning a new language, it doesn't get any easier than soaking in the Italian lessons that other adults are giving to their children. "Look at the big fishie," is a useful phrase for anyone -- just think, if you're running around a museum and want to impress your friends you need only replace one word to arrive at the sentence "Look at the big Picasso." Perfect for a viewing of Guernica.

There was actually a fish at the Aquarium that I have never seen before. Ever. And I'm a person who has visited a lot of zoos and aquariums, and doesn't mind reading a National Geographic every now and then. But I had never seen this fish before. Check the next posting to see if you have.

And check out Genova if you're looking for Italy raw. Maybe it's a function of August and all of wholesome Genova is on vacation. Or maybe not. Either way, Genova has a spirit all its own - just be sure you don't encounter it in a dark passageway after dark.

guten giorno

In dwelling on the hike we took last weekend I neglected to dwell on the uniqueness of the area of Italy in which we were traveling. First, I would like to clarify that Alto Adige / Sudtirol is indeed in Italy. But you wouldn't know it. The people here speak German. They eat German. And they look German.

They are Italian because after World War I this area of Austria became a part of Italy and today the cities here have two names; one in German and one in Italian. Children here learn both languages in school. People in restaurants and on the street are likely to speak to you first in German but can drop to English or Italian easily.



But the chatter you hear on the streets and the music you hear in the establishments is most decidely German. After acclimating to a new place over a period of months and attaining a certain degree of comfort with the language and the culture it is quite surreal to plop yourself in what is technically the same country but feels very, very different.

The architecture and the wardrobe is what one might call "alpine." Envision those three quarter pants that Heidi's father certainly wore in the famous fairy tale... people here are still wearing them. And everyone wears blue work aprons, even on the streets. There are wool sweaters and bib dresses, and lots and lots of hats. Which, of course, they remove before entering church mass on Sundays.



This is, after all, where you'll find the Alpe di Suisi (Seiser Alm), Europe's largest alpine plateau. The grasslands are gorgeous, dotted with small wooden cottages and carpeted with wildflowers. The cottages have rocks piled on the roof for reasons unknown to us and the grasslands edging our trails were springy with peat. A shock to feet used to Milan's paved expanses. The air was crisp and ought to be -- we had to ride a gondola-style ski lift to ear-popping heights to arrive at this place.



We had strudel in our back packs. Large hunks of it. It was wonderful and we found it in a grocery store that had far more choices and a fair bit more heartiness than the Italian grocery stores we frequent three hours south-west. Say what you will about Italian's enjoying their food, those that speak German seem to enjoy it a whole lot more.

Our last dinner in town, celebrated after a healthy round of steam room and sauna, was eaten in a room supported by thick wood beam timbers and filled with hearty laughter and beer steins. The people around us were speaking a language we couldn't understand, and the music carried on without telling its story to us. Trust me when I say that our Italian is not so bad that we can't keep up with Italian chatter... It's just that in this part of Italy, the Italians speak another language.

you too can parla italiano

Walking around with new friends it was interesting to see what they noticed about the city. About it's substance. One is an engineer, the other is in construction, and they saw Milan in a way I never would. They noticed materials and structures and the million little reasons why the buildings we walk past every day are still standing.

They stopped to look at the rock with which buildings were constructed. Were the blocks cut or had they been poured? Was each chunk exactly the same or slightly different? Yes, I would notice that the building was made with special stones. I would think it was unique and pretty and point at it for others to see. But I would never stop to think about scientifically what it all meant. That each piece worked with the others based on calculations and formulas and facts. And that someone had to take on the responsibility of promising that this building would work.

I'm more likely to see the hints of old red on a giant door across from a favorite Sunday cafe. And then go inside for a macchiato.



These are the stairs that swirl up our building. They make a turn just tight enough to make you dizzy. And being marble they're just slippery enough to make you nervous. So instead of taking the stairs, a travesty I know, I tend to take the elevator. It's a quaint little cabin with a mirrored wall - perfect for one last check after lunch. And you're not likely to be dizzy when you step off.

Italian has not been what I would call an easy language to learn. True, it is beautifully full of sound and passion but it also involves a painful amount of little accordances one must get just right. But today is the day we can all speak Italian. Just start with an open mind and let your intuition guide you. Remember that large chunks of our languages are very similar and that often guessing is as effective as learning. So with that encouragement I unleash you on the Brokeback Mountain poster in Italian. Can we all guess what the title is in Italian?



I thought so. Bravo!

finire: to finish

Finishing language training is a bit sad for me.

No more espresso with loads of sugar when we start to drag in class. No more La Prova del Cuoco my favorite Italian cooking show. No more sitting in a small classroom across from Stefano for five hours a day. No more readings that are so difficult and convoluted that you want to slam your head against the table and curse the language. No more Italian cookies and cakes and whatever else our teacher can find to plump us up with in the name of cultural enrichment. And no more pupazzi di neve.

Ciao tutti e grazie per tutto!

me me and my three three

Io ho passato la prova d'italiano!

Apparently when you hang poster-sized vocabulary charts all over your house, and tape index cards with Italian verbs to your kitchen cabinets, you've got what it takes to learn a new language. And let me add that my Italian teachers are incredible people who teach from the depths of their hearts. Grazie and hallalujah.

Now where can a girl find some cupcakes to celebrate...