la dolce vita

“The sweet, soulful, life”…

The title of our first discussion post on the Gonzaga ORGL Blackboard page: “Is there life after jet-lag?” evokes responses that are colorful and varied; Each of us experiencing the transition to some degree of  “life as usual” after two weeks of immersion in a dynamic group experience…strangers in a strange land –privileged partakers of the culture, its people, academic challenges, and interpersonal relationships.

My re-entry into the life before Europe was delightfully prolonged both in time and place. It was extended two weeks traveling in Europe and ten days in the states with family. My thirteenth flight ended at the Albuquerque airport on Monday July 4^th and, as of this writing, I am 24 hours home and just beginning to fall into a kind of comfortable rhythm. Beyond the physical sense of overload, is the chafing transition into the realm of duty and deadlines. The past 41 days have made few demands on me….no hard schedules and, besides toothbrushing and showering, no significant responsibilities…a relaxed pace taking life as it comes…”La Dolce Vita….”the sweet, soulful life.”

My initial approach to this first day back was speed. There is so much to do that the default strategy--  jump on it and ride hard until it’s done…seemed smart.  I began today with a six-mile walk in my neighborhood that included some challenging hills. As I walked, I mused on my next goal: unpack and do laundry. I could already visualize the empty suitcases and the neatly folded laundry. Before tackling this first project, I took a nap. Four hours later, the suitcases sat by the backdoor waiting for my husband to store them in the garage and the familiar sound of the dryer tossing my clothes resounded through the house. About this time, I was ready to generate another small goal when my husband called and invited me to lunch….defaulting to European slack mode, we took a leisurely lunch at the Wild Herb and I came home and took another short nap (like the Italians and my SC son) and then sat in front of my computer watching my Facebook newsfeed and playing with some receipts.

My next goal:  posting some checks and paying five bills went exceptionally slow with interruptions to talk on the phone and Skype my grandson….but making progress---though the goal is accomplished in record slow time. I then envisioned a home-cooked meal. We had pasta and fresh green beans at the dinner table…and we ate it slowly---like Leonardo.

It’s 9:10 now. I did the few dishes we used making and eating dinner and I am drinking a glass of wine….it’s making me sleepy and I think my evening will be over soon. This transition day has been strangely unhurried but peaceful ...with some duties fulfilled. I did not make a whole lot of progress and honestly hold hopes that maybe I made a permanent shift into a lower gear…”la dolce vita.”

a prolonged re-entry

Since saying goodbye to my hippie stint in the late 60’s I have given at least a fair impression of being a responsible adult…pastoring a church, raising five children, keeping a budget and all the other wonderful duties/joys of being a wife and mother.  I am in my sixth week away from home without family….an intentional break from most of what is familiar and comfortable and struggling a bit with feelings of guilt as my husband cares for my bulldog, pays the bills, and makes his own way alone for the first time in 30 years.

Dan and I took a taxi to the train station on Friday the 10th. He helped me navigate with my "motor home"bag to the right platform. I got to Pisa and took a train to the airport where I really started feeling the sting of my excessive luggage.  Ryanair’s 59 euro flight to Paris cost me a new bag and an 85 euro charge for a second bag. They are merciless enforcing weight and size regulations…

I have blogged some about my trip for two weeks in France, Switzerland and back into Italy. I do believe I would have done more writing if I had simply journaled in my Moleskin instead of having the constraint of concern about punctuation and good form.

As of this post, I am still not home. I am with my youngest daughter in a coffee shop in Fremont, Michigan where we have been processing her life changes as well as my own. I leave tomorrow to meet my husband in Charlotte and then onto SC for a few days to see a new grandson….home on the 4^th to my beloved Bunter.

I have been working some with Gelb’s book since Florence. I have shared it with a number of people who, like me, are impressed that it is our “textbook” for this class.

Concerning jet lag….Bonine is the “once a day travel tablet” that makes a flight relaxing and wards off any possibility of air sickness. I took two tablets as per the directions…but a 250 pound man also takes two tablets.  I left Europe on Friday the 24^th. Today is the 29^th and I am still nodding off in the middle of a conversation.  Am so thankful that my re-entry is prolonged and I have a driver.

The time in Italy will be journaled and processed for a long season. Besides having children, this month in Europe may be the most profound and paradigm-altering experience in my short life. I am grateful to each of you for being a part of it.

happy cows

Day 25 of this journey. I originally intended to stay in Italy for the final half of my four week trip to Europe. I think this was mostly because I felt more secure after two weeks in Florence…with both the language and the culture. I began to see Florence as “home” after several days. I knew how to get around without too much help and could find an inexpensive meal and glass of wine. I also had friends in Florence, a great room, and the Gonzaga campus around the corner. Breaking free from these comfortable moorings I expanded my European borders and ventured into France.

Yesterday I traveled by a small touring van over the Alps. We went through ancient villages, some remarkably austere in treeless  environments and others with busy sidewalk cafes full of climbers and their gear...drinking glasses of beer and huddled over maps of the mountain. These are mostly young Frenchmen with a clear passion for the climb. Back where I have been basing in Les Houches some of these climbers stay in a bunkhouse and work with their ropes on a large boulder in front of the hotel.

One of the outstanding experiences yesterday's excursion was a stop made as we descended from the top of the Alps into Italy. As I got out of the van, I heard what I thought were church bells that resounded out of a green mountainside…I could not determine the source until the driver pointed to a large herd of very large black cows. Each had their own bell and every movement made while grazing was a note in this incredible sound feast. We walked up to a small building selling snacks patronized by what seemed like local customers. One gentleman carrying  a wooden board with several cheeses, sausage slices,  and crusty bread stopped to show us his purchase and explained that these were all products of these delightfully melodic cows.  I ordered a glass of red wine (2.5euros) and walked to a nearby building where a young girl dressed in high rubber boots was tending  to the  cleaning of what is apparently the home of these productive cows.

I hesitate to assign an emotion of happiness to a cow, but if ever a cow had a reason to be happy, these cows do. There is a sense of humane care that contrasts sharply with the stockyards in Herford, Texas or the stories I have heard about Cargill or the horrors of the  meat packing plants in California. The sausage seemed fit for a vegetarian.

a trip to the top

The highest mountain peak in Europe is Mont Blanc at Chamonix, France. To enhance my many shifting paradigms, I decided that a trip to the top was in order. My mother hated high places. My first recollection of her fear was on a vacation to the Grand Canyon. My dad was teasing her by driving dangerously close to edges of the road unprotected by guardrails. All my life I have carried a fear of heights…an irrational and debilitating fear.

The decision to go was relieved by the comforting possibility of a storm that would shut down the gondolas. The storm did not come and I hesitantly began my trip to the top about noon. No one else in the car seemed moved as I was inside. They were laughing and talking as if they were at their own dining room table on solid ground. To me this was a huge step that no one else was sharing….except my family back home who were befuddled at this out-of-character activity. My husband watched me hit the ground in tears at the Grand Canyon as he took my son to peer over the edge of a deadly dropoff.

My anxiety slipped away after the first few yards up the mountain. I was comforted by the calm faces of the people….most especially an oriental man who stood in front of me in the corner of the car. The scenery is difficult to communicate with most of my available adjectives.

I stayed at the top for about 45 minutes and then descended to the midway point where I enjoyed a   glass of wine and hiked among the rocks and wildflowers. I am not sure that my fear is gone…at least it has been challenged and I feel a greater courage in me that I think will serve me in other aspects of my life.

after florence: France/ Chamonix and Mont Blanc

I was talking with one of my professors last week about blogging. We were required to journal our trip and responses to lectures/ field trips. I remarked that I was logging most of this content on my blog. He told me that he did not blog because it was a slow means of recording...trying to write an engaging and clear piece and keep the grammar etc straight at the same time. Writing for the world..however small or large the audience..is much different than recording ponderings in my black Moleskin...but I am on an exciting journey and am willing to risk appearing sloppy for the sake of sharing.

I left Paris yesterday and arrived in Chamonix early this morning.The French countryside is more lovely down here than it was as I viewed it a few days ago from the air when I flew in from Pisa.  Chamonix is east of Geneva and a charming community with the dominating presence of Mont Blanc as a backdrop. Mont Blanc is the highest mountain in Europe and draws trekkers and tourists.

This evening I did laundry and took a walk down the winding streets of Chamonix. I picked a sidewalk cafe among many choices...this one had frites...I normally do not eat french fries, but in France, French fries seem to be the order of the day...a cheap dinner (1.90 euros).  I engaged the man behind the counter asking if he had been up to Mont Blanc. He laughingly told me "no"...just the easy way...in an airplane. He, in turn, asked me if I was going up. I told him that I was thinking about embracing the challenge tomorrow....I told him "scary" and he asked how long it would take.  I said 20 minutes and he looked at me puzzled. The language differences make these dialogues foggy. I took my frites and continued my slow walk back to the hotel.

As I walked eating my frites (much like McDonalds only thicker), I pondered our conversation and laughed out loud when it hit me that he thought I was trekking up the mountain, not riding a gondola.

Unfortunately, "Do you speak English" is my constant refrain in Europe. It feels selfish to expect others to figure out what I am needing. Not knowing the language aborts many engagements that might otherwise be enriching and creates a degree of isolation.

Today as I was showering, I used the upsidedown bottle of "Fusion"...a practical and wonderful combination of body and facial wash as well as shampoo. I think I may begin to photograph these kinds of notable differences in the two parts of the world....I am staying another night in Chamonix and then on to the eastern coast of France...

upending virtue

"Everyone sees who you appear to be, few sense who you really are." Machiavelli The Prince

I invested almost 30 years in the Church promoting virtue…mostly in the form of the Biblical fruit of the spirit…love, joy, peace, patience, gentleness, goodness , faithfulness, kindness , selfcontrol…components of moral goodness that most of us would embrace as virtue.

Cicero articulates virtu as consisting "especially of always acting honorably and morally."It is clear that Machiavelli’s "virtu" is nothing equivalent to these conventional ideas of virtue…though it may insidiously and falsely present the appearance of goodness.  Machiavellian virtue is not practiced for the simple sake of virtue but is the presence of personal qualities that a prince would find necessary to acquire in order to maintain his state and achieve great things. 

Where I would tag a virtuous person as one comfortable with moral goodness and one I would count on to embrace that morality consistently, Machiavelli has a kind of chameleon-like virtu that changes with circumstance to promote results that favor the unity of the state. "The prince, above all must acquire a 'flexible disposition'....capable of varying his conduct from good to evil and back again as 'fortune and circumstance dictate.'"

Machiavelli's strategy for this flexiblity is found in the two categories of virtue: primary and secondary. The secondary virtues are used to form the impression of the primary. Primary virtues are intangible and are exemplified in virtues such as compassion, faith, sincerity, and prudence. These are paired with secondary or tangible virtues to create an appropriate persona. I will give an example to make this tactic clear.

If I want to make others think I am religious--an intangible virtue--I will reinforce with a public declaration of my generosity. Maybe I will give a large sum to a missionary outreach or to the poor...letting my left hand (and all who will hear) know what my right hand is doing (Matthew 6:3).

It is important to Machiavelli that a leader be willing to do evil by force or cunning when the circumstances seem to warrant while at the same time maintaining the guise of morality. It all sounds quite diabolical until we begin to see how these ideas play out practically in our politics. The bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki would be an example.

leaving italy for france

At the Uffizzi Musei in Florence today...standing in front of Botticelli's "Birth of Venus"..I was overwhelmed at this amazing place. It's huge and full...full of more art than I ever saw in the coffee table books that were my introduction to so many great pieces when I was small. I may one day regret leaving before seeing it all, but it seemed I was rushing and it was difficult to see some of the major pieces because of the crowds.

Tomorow is our last class and our last tour. We will conclude with a dinner tomorrow evening here in Florence. I have been keeping a hand written journal that I will work on transcribing onto this blog over the next few weeks.

Friday morning I leave for Paris and plan to connect back here as I have internet.