THE ARCHIVE

If you were wondering whether Italian media has taken an interest in the American presidential election, the answer is yes. Nearly every paper has a section devoted to the U.S. with stories about Obama and McCain, pictures of Palin, and gossip from the Drudge Report and the New York Times.

While watching the American political drama unfold, another issue has claimed the spotlight in Italian news. It has to do with a new law proposed by Burlusconi’s government that will simultaneously attempt to reform and cut the budget of a struggling education system. For weeks, students and teachers in every major Italian city have been protesting the law, hoping that the majority government might think twice about their measures.

The protests culminated yesterday in a massive rally through downtown Rome. During an architecture review in the Cornell Palazzo, we heard shouts from the crowd of thousands streaming past Largo Argentina. After presenting our work, I slipped out with Giuseppe and Travis to see the spectacle. We walked among students to the Ministry of Education where we experienced the demonstration first hand. Below the banners and riot police, everything remained quite calm–aided in no small part by marijuana and rhythmic dance music.

To everyone’s disapointment the protests failed to sway the government. The law passed and all that remains to be seen is how it will be implemented. One hopes for the best.

“I think it pisses God off if you walk by the color purple in a field somewhere and don’t notice it,” said Shug in Alice Walker’s famous novel. Lately it has been difficult to walk anywhere in Rome without seeing that color. For the past few weeks, clothing stores here have become increasingly monochromatic.

I have lived in small towns for the majority of my life and rarely pay much attention to fashion.  So it comes as a surprise to me that a trend can sweep across the globe with such speed and intensity. The fashion industry has managed to convince an entire civilization that they ought to cover themselves in the color purple. And I suspect that there will be a new color or pattern to covet next season. Doesn’t this get old?

Some people are so enamored by the color that they parade through town with the full ensemble: purple shoes, bags, jackets, argyle sweaters, and hats. They spend thousands of Euros to look like walking eggplants. Has the trend caught on back in Ithaca? Has Pyramid mall updated its inventory?

Florence attracts Americans like a light attracts moths. Something about the intact miniature roads, marble-clad basilicas and brimming museums appeals to our western mentality. The glowing alleyways and hillside villas have the idealized aura of a Thomas Kinkade painting–almost too perfect to be true.

I returned to Florence with my family and noted the refinement of the place in contrast to the more tumultuous city of Rome. I will admit that the place has charm and the collections of Renaissance work are unsurpassed. The monuments that remain attest to the ambition, craftsmanship and wealth of a people inspired by the past and anxious to leave a mark on the future. (pictured: Brunelleschi’s famous dome and sculpture in the Boboli gardens)

At night, I explored the bar scene and watched a modern Florentine ritual: American girls getting drunk and Italian guys trying their best to get lucky. I ended up talking to a couple Italians, Leonardo and Claudio, and joked with them about the absurdity of their late-night activity. I listened as girls spoke to them in broken Italian–not realizing that they both spoke perfect English (and could understand everything the girls said to one other). At some point, the girls mistook me for an Italian, so I jokingly entered the conversation with simple Italian phrases and exaggerated hand gestures to compensate.

Against all odds, I convinced them that I was Italian and they divulged to us their belief that Italian guys are better looking than Americans, etc. etc. We spoke for awhile and as we said goodbye Claudio managed to snatch a kiss on the lips. The American girl turned toward her friends and giggled at the thought of kissing an Italian.

Prompted by Claudio, I turned back around and said to her in perfect English, “wow, you just kissed that guy on the lips!” At that moment, something registered in her slightly intoxicated mind and she blurted out, “You guys are all Americans! OMG” and literally chased us down the road.

I don’t necessarily condone the sleaziness of Leonardo or Claudio but I couldn’t help but laugh with them at the situation. Girls can be pushovers when it comes to cute accents and misplaced romanticism — they are generally not very happy when they are called out on it.

After a quick flight from Granada, my family and I arrived in Barcelona and found our small hotel near La Rambla. The boulevard was engulfed by a sea of bodies pouring between café awnings, artist stands, flower shops, and street acts. The costumed performers had a flare of creativity that the gladiators and sphinx-people in Rome seem to lack. Their outfits ran the gamut from a gold encrusted version of Michael Jackson to a man on a toilet. Anything to attract attention, anything to put a coin at their feet.

Barcelona has a lot of interesting projects and I spent my day racing between the highlights. Mies van der Rohe’s Pavilion, the Olympic stadium, the shorefront buildings, and cathedrals were all exciting to see (and it took a combination of buses, trams, subways and long strides to do so). Nothing, however, compared to the buildings by Gaudi. I couldn’t help but linger on the rooftop terrace of La Pedrera and relax on the sinuous benches in Park Guell. His understanding and exploration of ergonomic design, bio-mimicry, and structural systems has gained my complete admiration.

When the museums closed, Barcelona took on an entirely new character. By coincidence I ran into a couple other Cornellians and we set out together to see what sort of night life the city had to offer.  We ended up in the bar that Ernest Hemingway once frequented, sipping one of his favorite drinks.

A few hours later, after walking the girls to their place, I headed back toward my hotel. La Rambla was much quieter than earlier but not entirely deserted.  To either side I began noticing packs of girls staring toward me as I passed. When they started making strange clicking noises I made the mental leap that these were indeed prostitutes.  There were hordes of them–like the street performers earlier in the day but with a different act.

I kept my eyes straight ahead and still they came one after another and grabbed onto my arm. Do I look that desperate?  Seriously, I’m just walking back to sleep on the cot in my parents hotel room. I shook the first one off and crossed my arms as people do when refusing communion.  It surprised me that a place as developed as Barcelona would have prostitution at its heart. I guess it is something that exists in all cities and all cultures around the world. I slipped into the hotel lobby and left the night behind.

“Delight yourself my dear visitor friend,” said the voice on the Audio guide at the Alhambra. In a soothing English accent, the narrator recounted centuries of history with romantic quotations from Washington Irving. Apart from the lines of tourists and my uncomfortable shoes, it might have felt like a dream.

The Alhambra is truly inspiring even without the recording that tells you about its splendor. I studied the palace as a freshman in college, but pictures and readings do it no justice. The genius is in the space itself–the interspersed rooms and courtyards–and the painstaking detail that pervades the entire complex.

These are a few of the pointed arches that separate interior spaces from pools and fountains of the courts.

A room with a view.

The portico that surrounds the Patio of the Lions (currently under restoration).

The fortress tower as visitors look down on Granada in the late afternoon sun.

Fall break started today and many of my classmates are already scattered across the globe. Unlike the poor souls in Ithaca who only get an extended weekend, we are free for an entire week. Students planned trips to Morocco, Spain, London, Paris, Zurich, Sicily, Tuscany, and the Amalfi coast (just to name a few destinations). Oh, the perfect combination of free time and discount airlines! This really makes college students happy.

I am spending the break with my family in Spain and Italy. My parents have cleverly used “visiting their children” as an excuse to see Granada, Barcelona, Florence, and Rome. There will be a lot to see in just a few days, but I look forward to the family escapade.

Updates from the road if time warrants and internet cafes are cheap.

With classes coming to an end and Fall break drawing near, members of the Cornell in Rome program gathered at Palazzo Lazzaroni for a parting meal. Our administrative director and surrogate mother, Anna Rita, organized the evening and taught us the delicate process of making gnocchi from scratch.

How many architects does it take to make a good meal? Last night, more than a dozen of us kneaded dough and shaped the little balls of potato and flour on makeshift tables in the lecture hall. With dough stuck to our hands and flour on the floor, we crafted a few hundred gnocchi into interesting (albeit inconsistent) shapes. Anna Rita boiled these in the tiny Palazzo kitchen and added a variety of different sauces. We assembled a long table and crowded around to taste all the food that had been prepared.

If you are interested in making hand-made gnocchi, I’ve included the recipe below. No guarantees that this will work without the assistance of an experienced Italian chef, but it’s worth a shot.

Ingrediente:

• 1 kg (~3lbs) potatoes
• 300 g (~2 cups) all-purpose flour
• 1 egg

Preparazione:

• Boil potatoes until soft (about 45min.)
• Peel and rice (or shred) potatoes
• Place them onto a large work surface; make a well in the middle
• Cover with flour and break egg into well
• Mix and knead ingredients (5-10min)
• Roll into 2-3 cm logs and cut diagonally
• Use finger or fork to press and roll gnocchi (this gives them a shape that will hold more sauce)
• Boil gnocchi until they rise to surface
• Drain and add a sauce of your choice

Buon appetito!

When I started this writing gig for Life on the Hill Blogs, I had to look up the word “blog” on Wikipedia (it’s an abbreviation of “web log” if you were wondering).  At the time, I used the internet primarily for e-mail and scoffed at the idea of keeping–what I considered–an online “diary.”  I had the rather naïve impression that Blogs were used in vain by people who needed to vent their feelings into cyberspace.

I have since discovered that blogs come in all shapes and sizes.  So far, I have used The ARCHIVE as a means to communicate with family and friends while travelling abroad in Italy.  It is a record of events in my life and a reference for people curious about the “Cornell experience,” study abroad, or whatever else I happen to write about.

As if this isn’t enough to keep me busy, I have begun reading and contributing to other web logs:

• My study-abroad program recently launched the Cornell in Rome Blog that will record lectures, field trips and events here in Italy. Each semester, a group of students will contribute to the site–creating a resource geared toward parents and prospective students interested in the program.
• In addition to this, I am now required to blog for my architectural theory seminar. If you want to follow along with our class, you can check out the slowly evolving Itopia Class Blog.
• My friend Emma is writing an interesting blog about studying abroad in Spain.  You can read about her adventures in Sevilla at her site, “The World is a Book.”

These and a few other sites are listed in the sidebar under “blogroll.”  Enjoy.

Each spring, students in ARCH 363: Structural Systems research an existing building, write an illustrated report, and build a detailed structural model.  The project has been part of the B.Arch. curriculum for over a decade and many consider it an important rite of passage. The labor-intensive models are a source of anxiety among underclassmen, and a source of pride for those who survive the experience.

As a sophomore, I researched the Jubilee Church by Richard Meier.  It is an interesting building on the outskirts of Rome with three double curvature “sails” made of pre-cast, post-tensioned concrete panels.  I read articles about the building; I spent hours staring at drawings; and I drew a complete mental image of the space using plans and sections.  When I finally completed the structural model (image above), I knew the building inside and out.

Yesterday, I travelled with two Italian engineering students to see the church in person.  Housing developments, rush hour traffic, a park, some kids playing soccer, and finally it appeared–Richard Meier’s famous church! It leapt from the pages of architectural periodicals and stood as grounded in reality as the post-war buildings on either side.

To see a building that you know so well feels a bit like going home. As I looked around, I recognized details and materials that I had seen before, that I had built. I could construct an entire history of the church linked to my own–the truss that took me all night to solder, the shells that kept falling over like dominoes, the walls that I strategically omitted to save time.  It might be known as Richard Meier’s church, but it is also mine.

I have been abroad in Italy since June 3^rd and I am just now discovering the incredible convenience of Skype. Without paying a dime, it is possible to speak to highschool and college friends back home–with whom I have been horribly out of touch. I even tried calling a couple people on their cell phones and this only cost me a few cents. I feel sorry for the telephone companies who used to make so much money from international calls.  Once again, technology and capitalism have triumphed.

This evening, I attended my first ever “Skype meeting” using videoconferencing.  Architecture students interested in Cornell’s NYC program gathered around a computer to speak with the program director back in Ithaca. We projected the video feed onto an oversized screen in the lecture room–giving the meeting a very futuristic feel.  Despite my age, I never cease to be amazed by technology.