June 15th: Cortona

June 15, Monday


I came downstairs to meet Daniele outside the convent yesterday at 1:15, having lost track of time. When he asked why I was late, I replied jokingly, aren’t the Italians always late? “Certo, ma non io,” he smiled and replied, sure but I’m not, and made a face that said, what kind of guy do you think I am? I’m still not sure whether he was actually slightly offended, or just amused….

He suggested we try Azzurra’s parents’ restaurant, which turned out to be a great idea. Just a few streets away from the convent, it’s a small cozy café-ish place that opens up to outdoor patio seating in the back. Azzurra’s brother greeted us at the door and sat us at one of the patio tables, and I spent most of the rest of the time gawking at the stone buildings with garden terraces surrounding the tiny restaurant. The bright sun was out early that day, which made the place even more picturesque. Daniele reassured me that even though the Italians see these sort of things every day, they still find them beautiful. I was glad. Lucky people.

A few minutes later we met their mother and father who were working in the back. At some point during the dinner, all three came over to the table for an extended conversation with Daniele, and then they politely ask me simple questions about where I’m from, why I am here, etc. This has been my experience with just about any restaurant or café in town, going back to the first night we ate at the pizzeria during the soccer match – it seems that the locals never hesitate to approach a fellow customer and initiate friendly conversation.

This was also the case with our next visitor at the table, a funny arrogant old man who chatted for ten minutes with Daniele before he gestured to me and asked who I was. When he found out I am American with Italian roots, he proceeded to lean back and study my face for a long time before definitively pronouncing me Italian and Scottish. We both laughed as I replied that while I did have Scottish/Irish blood, I am actually as much German as Italian. Apparently the old gentleman did not believe this for a second. “Mezzo e mezzo” he said, half-and-half, meaning Italian and Scottish. “You are too nice a girl to be German. The German girls are… how do you say it…?” He was attempting to explain that my personality does not fit the cold and reserved type that is a German woman, which I finally understood when he made a haughty face, and then leaned over to a nearby metal pole and tapped on it.

Later that day we took a trip to Cortona, a town about 20 minutes from Arezzo and where Daniele used to work. Cortona is situated several thousand feet up a mountain, so we had to take a tassi from the train station to the top. The driver, clearly used to this sort of thing, took the twists and turns a little fast for my liking – much like how I felt when I first rode with my aunt up the switchbacks in the mountains near L.A. Once we reached the top, I was overwhelmed by what I saw. The main street has a breathtaking panoramic view of the city below (named Camucia), a huge lake, and other mountains in the distance. I sat for probably 20 minutes just staring out over the cliff rail before Daniele urged me to keep walking – as we were going to reach the top by foot, we still had a long way to go.

At the crest of the mountain is an ancient Catholic church, where we stopped in briefly to watch the end of a traditional mass, and then filed in line to see the remains of a saint long-dead. I was a little shocked to see that the glass case displayed her actual decaying but preserved body at the front of the church. After grabbing a quick drink, we returned down the trail, but not before I got the amazing chance to capture the picture above… it’s the enormous mountain serving as a backdrop to a tiny butterfly Daniele spotted perched on a weed.

At the midway point of the mountain (with the view I referred to earlier) is the actual town. Returning to the town square we saw a ceremony of flag-bearers, sbandieratori, giving a presentation complete with music and period medieval clothing, and Daniele pointed out for me the flag displaying the colors of Arezzo.

We returned to Arezzo late that evening, where we met a few Oberlin friends at Mr. Bloom and ordered some dinner. I had a cheeseburger for the first time in ages, but this was no American cheeseburger – it was a delicious huge slice of beef, with gooey melted cheese and the red and green tomatoes native to the country. When I commented on how great it was, Ishmael told me that even the McDonald’s restaurants here are gourmet. From what I hear, their burgers also cost about 7 euro – equivalent to 10-12 bucks now – but I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s worth it.

It was a long day of sightseeing. The view from the mountain, my favorite part of the entire day, can only really be described in pictures…

A presto,
-Allie