Place Conscious

This is the first day of my life

2011-01-05T06:43:00.000-06:00

"This is the first day of my life, I'm glad I didn't die before I met you."
Bright Eyes (Conor Oberst)

Yesterday was my first day back at work and in preparation for that I've already missed two days of blogging. How much more have I missed because I work too much? Don't get me wrong, I love my job, but sometimes I feel swallowed by it. So last night I decided to invite my parents over since it was my dad's 83rd birthday, then I watched a movie with my family, visited with my daughter more and enjoyed my time with them rather than do all the schoolwork I brought home. I also took about 10 minutes for myself to listen to some new music by Bright Eyes and the Decemberists. This semester I am going to try hard to make an effort to be present at home.

I went back to an old Bright Eyes song and listened to it a couple times before I went to bed. I wondered to myself...What would I do if this was the first day of my life? Everyone talks about living each day like it's your last, but this sounds desperate and a little depressing to me. I like thinking about living the first day of my life - it sounds more exciting and fresh. I know what I would do - I would spend time with my family and take a little time for myself - just as I did last night. Simple, but true. What would you do?

On another note, last night before bed we set the timer for 10 minutes and everyone cleaned up the house. We decided we all liked this and will continue to do this. Maybe now our house won't get so cluttered up and we'll all make a better effort to pick up after ourselves. You should try it!

There's just something about Mary

2011-01-02T11:42:00.000-06:00

"Prayer is powerful beyond limits when we turn to the Immaculata who is queen even of God's heart."
-Saint Maximilian Kolbe

While visiting with my oldest sister today over the phone, she suggested I try praying the rosary. She assured me it was good meditation and that she had recently started carving out 20 minutes each day to sit and pray. I haven't prayed the rosary in years. Despite my Catholic upbringing with parents who were good role models and an education in a private school, I have tended to wander from my religion over the years. I wrestle with certain aspects of the religion, yet I connect with the spiritual side of faith. I can honestly say I feel a deep connection and closeness to Mary, especially after becoming a mother. To me, she symbolizes all the mothers that have "been there" and understand what it means to be a mom. So as I listened to my new podcast of the rosary (told you it had been years-I needed some help!), I thought about Mary and hoped she was listening to my prayers for our baby. I handed my fears and wishes and anxiety over to her. It's comforting to know there's another mom listening and helping me take on this load of worry.

Here is our last ultrasound picture of Baby T. with the rosary I purchased for Aaron in Italy. I gave it to him after our marriage was blessed in the church last September.

A New Year 1.1.11

2011-01-01T07:00:00.000-06:00

We will open the book. Its pages are blank. We are going to put words on them ourselves. The book is called Opportunity and its first chapter is New Year's Day.
~Edith Lovejoy Pierce

I decided it was time to write on my blog again. I've felt a nudging inside myself whispering to write and to take time for myself. Plus, I'm starting out this New Year on bed rest so there are no excuses for me not to write. I'm 13 weeks pregnant with Baby T. It took us over a year to conceive this baby and during that year I had an ectopic pregnancy where I had started to bleed internally, had emergency surgery and feel lucky to be alive. That being said, when I started to have pains on my right side, I decided not to mess around and headed to the doctor. After an ultrasound, it was stated that I have "features of a subchorionic and a retroplacental hemorrhage". The way I understand it my placenta has separated from my uterine wall causing some bleeding. I was put on bed rest for a week and told to come back in seven days. If I was to have more separation, it could cause me to miscarry. So during this week that I have off of school where I planned to catch up around my neglected house, I am laying in bed....My "place" has been in my bedroom and occasionally on my couch. This has not been easy for me. I'm constantly making lists and checking them off. I don't stop. I usually have several projects in the works along with family, home and school responsibilities. I don't sit. I don't lay. Luckily, I read, write, and have a strong attachment to my laptop. Google Reader, Hulu, books, Facebook and a large amount of magazines my friends brought over (Bless You!) have kept me occupied.

Yesterday was my first meltdown. I was frustrated I couldn't go out to scoop the snow for an area for the dog to do his business in. And did I mention I hate asking for help? I asked my husband to do it and he replied he would do it later. I thought to myself, "it would be so easy to go scoop that snow, it would only take moments and I can't do it!" Did I mention that once I have something in my head and I want it done that I just do it? I don't mess around. I just do it. Since my husband is not of the same mind as I am on this....I completely lost it. Needless to say, the snow was scooped immediately and I was put back to bed for a good cry.

This is my place at the moment - My bedroom.
I look at the pictures of my happy family, the painting of Croatia where we took our honeymoon and the cross on my wall often as I lay here. I'm reminded of all the Opportunities and blessing I've had and those that are to come in 2011. I pray this little one growing inside me will stay safe and have the chance to live out his or her own Opportunities. This is why I continue to lay here. I endure being waited on and give up control that not everything on my list will get done. There are more important things to take care of right now.

My last day in Florence

2010-08-10T15:00:00.000-05:00

I spent my last day in Florence at Boboli Gardens and Pitti Palace

Boboli Gardens

Boboli Gardens

One last sunset over the Arno

I sat on a bridge over the Arno to listen to music by Claudio Spadi - he was awesome! This lady was really getting into it! She was hilarious!

Goodbye! I'll miss you!

The heart of Florence at night

Back to Florence - Hotel Gioia

2010-08-10T14:55:00.000-05:00

The staff was wonderful!

The last few days of my stay in Italy were spent in Florence. I stayed at Hotel Gioia. Here is the review I wrote for their website:

My stay at Hotel Gioia was exceptional. The staff was friendly and helpful which was important to me as a single female traveler. I felt like they kept tabs on me and gave me advice about the city that was invaluable.

My room was basic, but had it's own bathroom. It was just what I needed and was very clean.

The hotel is located in the heart of Florence so it was easy for me to get around by walking.

I would recommend this hotel to any friends visiting Florence. I'm so grateful to the kind people who work there that made my stay wonderful.

http://www.nozio.com/Europe/Italy/Tuscany/Florence/Florence/lodging/Hotels/3_three_stars_hotels/Hotel_Gioia.htm?review=outstanding_16339

My room

My bathroom that included a bidet!

Goodbye Vitorchiano

2010-08-10T14:30:00.000-05:00

Here I am touching the belly button of the Moai in Vitochiano for good luck. The Moai statue is the only one located outside Easter Island.

Tenuta di Santa Lucia Pictures

2010-08-10T14:21:00.001-05:00

Tenuta di Santa Lucia

2010-08-10T14:20:00.000-05:00

On the last night of my stay in Vitorchiano, Linda and Sergio took Sandy and I to Tenuta di Santa Lucia for dinner. Once a place for silkworm breeding, it’s now a gorgeous guesthouse and restaurant. This property that has been in the Trua family for over 200 years is now a draw for agritourism. On their 2-1/2 acres, they raise Chianina cattle and grow crops of grain, hay, olives, and hazelnuts. They have even begun to cultivate lavender. I had never heard of agritourism or “agriturismo” before, but according to what I have learned it is popular in Italy. I believe people get tax breaks if they use the meat and crops they produce to sustain a business – in this case a B&B and restaurant. As you can see from the pictures, the place is lovely! I would have no objection to spending some time here and the people there were kind and helpful. Our meal was excellent and the atmosphere was inviting. I will attach the link if you want to learn more about Tenuta di Santa Lucia – I encourage you to check it out since their pictures are much better than mine!

http://www.tenutadisantalucia.com/eng/index.html

New Friends

2010-08-10T12:21:00.003-05:00

Sergio, Linda, and I

Linda, Sandy, and I

Tapping into the soul of place writer's workshop

2010-08-10T12:21:00.001-05:00

“Travel and change of place impart new vigor to the mind.” – Seneca

It’s rather funny that I went half way around the world to learn to write about my place, but well worth it! I was able to get away, settle in, and write about place with renewed excitement from master teacher, Linda Lappin. Linda, fellow writer Sandy Sims from California, and I would discuss writing about place and read from authors like Mary Sarton, Linda Hogan, Patricia Hampl, and Shirley Hazzard. Linda gave excellent instruction on how to observe different things about places. She also discussed with us travel-writing approaches. I learned a lot of specific writing skills that will help me describe my own place and the places I visit better. Much of this writing, reading, and discussion happened in Linda’s courtyard or home. It was lovely!

Along this journey, I did not only learn about how to become a better writer of place, but I made some dear friends, too. Linda, her husband Sergio, and Sandy were delightful people I have been enriched by through this experience. I am grateful for my time with them and for having the chance to learn from them. I am blessed!

http://www.pokkoli.org/

Enough is Enough

2010-08-10T09:32:00.000-05:00

“One’s destination is never a place, but a new way of seeing things.” – Henry Miller

I had an upsetting conversation hop into my suitcase for a free ride to Italy. It made me angry that the conversation I had a few days before I left would creep into my brain as I jogged along the picturesque countryside. This is not what I want to be thinking of when I’m in a country I’ve desired to come to for so long, but here it is again…The conversation sneaks into my brain about 50 times each day. WHY? I think the reason it sticks out like a sore thumb is because it got to the heart of my most difficult issue in life – BALANCE. How do I balance everything? Family, home, schoolwork, friends, student needs, committees, and the list goes on and on. Often times I feel anxious about doing a good job at work and keeping up my relationships. The thought of taking on one more thing makes me feel like I’ll spontaneously combust from being stretched out in so many directions. Over the course of this trip I thought a lot about my “balance issue”. I never really figured anything out except to take it one day at a time and to say “No” when asked to do more….even if that person thinks I don’t do enough.

Observations and Discussions that develop my place conscious mind

2010-08-10T09:15:00.000-05:00

“Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry, and narrow-mindedness.” – Mark Twain
I think traveling is important on so many levels, but learning about other cultures is something I find invaluable. Throughout my trip I observed the people and listened to their points of view. Here are a few things I noticed or was told about:
Time and Food
No waiter is in a hurry for you to pay or leave. I always have to ask for my check, not like America where they rush you out the door. This place suits me – it’s much more laid back! Also, many people here make delightful noises when they first start to eat if really good and they take a long time to eat – it’s an event, not something to get done and move on to the next thing.

The men, especially in Florence, really stare and are very friendly, yet the young women don’t really look at me – even in small village. I like seeing the older women hanging out their windows as they watch the world and the older men sitting on benches or standing in the streets visiting.

I was told that they are shocked by the alcohol use of the US and British kids when they come to visit – I wonder why those kids (in general) drink more?

In Italy it is OK to live at home with one’s parents, but in the US it seems like one should be shamed for it. This attitude has changed a bit since the economy has taken a turn for the worse. OH! And in Europe, they call it “The Crisis”, whereas here we say the economy is bad.

The driving and roads are truly crazy. I’ve noticed that ever since I have returned from Italy that I hold onto the hand/clothes hook above the passenger door. I got into the habit of holding on after all the crazy riding experiences in Italy. After being picked up in a taxi at the airport in Florence the song “Tonight’s Gonna Be a Good Night” was blasting through the speakers. I held on as we voomed through the streets dodging other cars, mopeds, people and bicycles! At one point we took a sharp turn and I thought the man standing on the street corner was going to end up in my open window!

There are people who steal in every country, but here I heard stories about Gypsies throwing babies at people to catch while the children stole from their pockets or they would throw water on people to distract them then stole their purse. Oh my was I ever nervous and kept my purse guarded at all times.

They say everything is BIGGER in the US – not just the stores, but even the refrigerators! It’s very rare for Italians to have clothes dryers, too, because there isn’t space.

There has been a lot of controversy over immigration in the US lately, but I was sad to be reminded that it is an issue everywhere. I can’t believe that in Milan they were trying to pass a law that immigrants couldn’t sit down on the bus! That’s terrible!

This experience has educated me on many levels. Talking about the similarities and differences has taught me a lot. It’s also been fun to just sit back and watch, but no matter what our differences are, we are all one people.

Siena

2010-08-10T08:41:00.001-05:00

Siena

2010-08-10T08:40:00.000-05:00

My visit to Siena included a lovely lunch & wine tasting near the Palazzo Comunale. The city square actually looks like a sink – it has a square around it, but a circular bowl in the middle. Then we went on a tour with a guide that did a superb job of educating us about the history of Siena. We walked to the cathedral to see a gorgeous interior that was gothic on the bottom and had Renaissance features on the top. The tour guide said this was because there was a plague that made them stop production on the church, then when they finally had enough funding the Renaissance had been born so those features took over.
After this we went to Cappella di Santa Caterina where St. Catherine of Siena took her vows.

The two things that interested me most about Siena were the Palio and Cappella di Santa Caterina. The Palio is a horse race held two times each year in the city center; July 2 is named Palio di Provenzano, in honor of Madonna di Provenzano, who has a church in Siena and August 16 is named Palio dell’Assunta, in honor of the Assumption of Mary. 10 of the 17 contrade or districts in Siena have jockeys ride bareback horses around the city center three times. No money is given to the winning jockey – it is the HORSE that wins the honor for the district it represents.

As I said earlier, the Cappella di Santa Caterina is where St. Catherine of Siena took her vows. Siena holds this saint dear because she is said to have talked the pope into coming back to Rome. She must have been quite a persuasive lady! I was surprised to see the relics of her head and her thumb. The guide said St. Catherine died in Rome and was buried there, but the people of Siena wanted to claim her body, so as a compromise the people from Rome gave the Sienese parts of her body to display in their church.

Palio in Siena - I made this using Comic Life

2010-08-10T08:39:00.001-05:00

The phone booth is to the right - my only way to communicate with the outside world

2010-08-10T08:32:00.001-05:00

Disconnecting

2010-08-10T08:30:00.000-05:00

FYI: I am finally getting around to posting more about my Italy trip - I'm home now, but going back and posting about my past experience this summer.

“I soon realized that no journey carries one far unless, as it extends into the world around us, it goes an equal distance into the world within.” ~ Lillian Smith

During my week in Vitorchiano, I have been completely disconnected from the outside world save this phone booth, which dubs as the village cats’ litter box, and an international calling card. Each day I called Julia and Aaron, and occasionally my parents, for updates, smiles, and loves. Over the week, I had no internet, no ichat, no facebook, no email, no cell phone, and no TV. What made this experience more isolating is that only three people in the village spoke English. I missed my family and communication terribly, but this forced journey within gave me time to read and to write. It also gave me time to think about my priorities, my students & teaching, and my family life. Often times I get into high gear and just go without thinking about what road I’m on or where it’s taking me. It’s been nice to switch off the distractions and responsibilities in order to shift into low gear. Many probably think it’s selfish to “wander around Italy” for a couple weeks, but I honestly think this will make me a better teacher, family member, and friend. I’ve had the chance to learn from a master teacher of writing how to write – this will help me serve my students better.

San Gimignano Photos

2010-06-24T15:08:00.000-05:00

San Gimignano

2010-06-24T15:07:00.000-05:00

“There are places one comes home to that one has never been to: San Gimignano.” ~Barbara Grizzuti Harrison

I ventured into the Tuscany countryside to visit San Gimignano and Siena. One of my favorite parts of the day was the bus ride there. I was wooed by Tuscany’s gorgeous cypress trees, poppies, and rolling fields. I wondered what it was like to put up hay in these parts as compared to Nebraska. I didn’t see the big tractors we have in the Midwest, so it felt as if I stepped back in time. My first stop was San Gimignano, the New York City of Tuscany, with its towering medieval stonework. My first impression was that I would like to stay longer as it drew me in with its awe-inspiring views and abundant shopping. I was told by the tour guide to go behind the church, walk a little ways, and find some steps to climb for an amazing view. Once I reached the top, I could only put my hands on my hips and shake my head as I wondered, “How did I get so lucky?” There was a man sitting on a bench facing the view reading a book. There was a woman sitting on the ground just staring ahead. I’m sure they had the same thoughts as me.

After snapping numerous photos, I shopped for keepsakes to bring home for my family and friends. As I looked around, I started to notice the Black Rooster label on Chianti wines, on T-shirts, and in the linen shops. After doing some research, I learned about “the Legend of the Black Rooster”. If you know much about wine, you certainly have heard of Chianti Classico. The red wine produced in the area that lies between Florence to the north and Siena to the south (and beyond) has been enjoyed by people since 1000 A.D.
An amusing legend of the black rooster goes back to a time when the cities of Florence and Siena fought over the area that is now the Chianti Classico zone. The rivalry waged on for several years until the early 1200’s when leaders decided to settle the issue by a competition.
Two horsemen, one from Florence and the other from Siena, were to leave their hometowns at a cockcrow and where ever they met that exact spot would define their boarders. For this purpose, the Sienese chose a beautiful, well-fed white rooster who grew big and fat as their official timekeeper, while the Florentines instead chose a starving black rooster for their timekeeper. On that fateful day of the event, the black rooster began to crow early long before sunrise because he was so famished and the Florentine rider set off towards Siena. Meanwhile the Sienese white rooster took its time and began to crow at sunrise. As a result, the Florentine rider was able to cover more ground and met the Sienese rider just 12-19 kilometers (references differ) north of Siena. The boundary lines were drawn at the meeting spot and the majority of Chianti Classico region now fell under the jurisdiction of the Florentine Republic. Today, the Black Rooster label is placed on the neck of a bottle of wine from the Chianti Classico zone
(Information courtesy of The Legend of the Black Rooster by Terry Sullivan http://www.winetrailtraveler.com/opinion/columnists/blackrooster.php and interview with Giuseppe Liberatore, Director of Consortium Chianti Classico by Duccio Morozzo della Rocca http://www.teatronaturale.com/article/622.html )

Legends like the one about the Black Rooster make me fall in love more deeply with this place. There is so much history and legend and story that reaches up from the soil and into my imagination.

Roma

2010-06-06T15:54:00.001-05:00

“Not all those who wander are lost.” – J. R. R. Tolkien

Recipe for a day in Rome

Ingredients:
1 Camera
1 Good Map
2 Adventurous Friends
A large dose of a willingness to walk far distances

Then mix together the following in order:
Take the train into Rome
Get on the metro
Visit the Colosseum
Discover that the Basillica of St. Clement is only open at odd hours, so you’ll have to visit another time
Get Lost by the Roman Forums and something else
Ask for directions
Eat at Trattoria Giggetto Al Portico D’Ohavia in the Jewish Ghetto
Go inside the Pantheon
Ask for directions
Trevi Fountain (you must throw a coin over your shoulder in the fountain with your back to it)
Ask for directions
Sit on The Spanish Steps, then by the sinking ship fountain with gelato in hand
Take a cab back to the train station – it’s too far to walk

Enjoy this wonderful day in Rome over the course of the day.

The Arch of Constantine

The Colosseum

Eating in the Jewish Ghetto. We were told to have the fried artichoke.

The Pantheon

You can't take many steps before running into more ruins.

Trevi Fountain

I love this picture! Sandy and I were trying to figure out where we were and getting help from others.

The Spanish Steps

Vitorchiano, Italy

2010-06-05T12:05:00.001-05:00

Michael is the patron saint here. According to legend, Mary was the patron saint, then the plague hit and Mary needed some help. The priest at the time decided to add Michael the Archangel as their other patron saint. Once he did this, the plague ceased!

The Village of Vitorchiano

2010-06-05T11:29:00.001-05:00

The door to my place is on the far left.

This is the second gate to get into the older part of the village.

This is the first gate to get into the village from the outside.

Notice how old this sign is by the horse and buggy!

Another beautiful door here.

There are so many different doors!

Santa Maria

2010-06-04T17:00:00.000-05:00

“Travel is more than the seeing of sights; it is a change that goes on, deep and permanent, in the ideas of living.” – Miriam Beard

As I pass through the two gates that lead into the oldest part of Vitochiano, I feel as if I’m being whispered a great secret. Santa Maria, one of the village’s patron saints, guards the first outside gate built in the 1500s for the expanding residents. Straight ahead lies the second gate built in the 13th century with a clock tower now above it that thrusts into the air. A statue of Mary is embedded behind glass under the clock as if she’s rising to the Heavens in prayer over her dear people. These south gates are the only way into Vitorchiano since it’s built on a grey peperino rock peninsula surrounded by a green gorge.

Passing medieval stone houses with doors shaped like entrances to Etruscan tombs I notice cheery red geraniums and verdant plant life overflowing from windows and stair-steps. The village’s main pathway winds in a circle with narrow passages jutting off to overlooks of the gorge. What strikes me is that in the heart of this fortified village is the church devoted to Mary. All life surrounds the church here.

Within three days of my time in Vitorchiano, I have witnessed two religious processions. One devoted to St. Amanzio, whose bones lie for all to see in the church just inside the first city gates, and another procession in honor of Santa Maria. Upon seeing these processions, I felt as if I was peeking into a time where lost traditions, sacred symbols, and devote people were hiding. I was astonished to see intricate flower designs in the village square before St. Amanzio’s procession. The heads of yellow margarits and pedals sunlit pink mums created the circle of a symbolic shield. The procession started at the head of the first gate and followed a path of flower petals down to the square. The band played a dirge as a solemn group followed. First were the men carrying three crucifixes in a row on their backs, then priest carrying a statue of St. Amanzio, with a group of little angels and older children in white behind him, then two lines of adults followed. I was enchanted to witness such an old tradition of religious ceremony.

The next evening another procession shuffled by in the same order, but this time four men carried a statue of Mary at least five feet high on a platform. In the darkness, the adults carried candles with various colors of tissued paper surrounding the glow. This time I decided to follow. As an outsider, I trailed at the end of the line snapping images with my camera that I knew could never truly communicate the feeling of awe and reverence I felt at the moment. The priest sang songs and said prayers in Mary’s honor and the band played an occasional tune. Even though I could not understand the language, I recognized the rhythm of the prayers and the melodies of songs. This made me feel connected to this place and these people. We shared a special language that united us through God’s presence. As we paraded through the small village I noticed a few residents with their heads hanging out windows, too old to walk in the procession now, but could see in their eyes a reflection of their youth from the days they carried on the tradition from centuries before. I also noticed for the first time, the pictures of Mary throughout the village with little ledges with flowers and candles underneath. Although a procession such as this is one I have never seen before, I thought it was a quintessential example of this community’s religious views. After walking through the village’s inner city streets, the group flowed out of the inner gate, through the square and further on to the outer gate. At first I thought we would proceed inside the church, but to my surprise, we continued outside of the city walls. I felt like the procession was out of place among the modern parking lot, vehicles, and police presence. It felt as if the tradition had been exposed or tarnished somehow by letting the world outside the gates see it. The image that has stayed fixed in my mind is of Mary’s statue being carried under the bright lights of a gas station sign. The dazzling white, red, and yellow sign clashed with Mary’s soft blue dress and veil of white...

I'm still working on this....sorry for the abrupt stop, but I need to figure out how I want to finish this.

A jog in Vitorchiano

2010-06-04T16:51:00.000-05:00

“To awaken quite alone in a strange town is one of the pleasantest sensations in the world.” – Freya Stark

My iPod touch opens my eyes to the mamba, dancing me awake. The light filtering through the small window of my bedroom tells me it’s time to get up for a jog. I tell myself it’s 7:00 A.M. in Vitorchiano, Italy, midnight in O’Neill, Nebraska. I can sleep a little longer. But as I snuggle my head deeper into my pillow I think of the bird show outside my window. “My window”, I think with a sleepy grin. This is “my window” for seven days. Like an old friend calling on the other end of telephone, I pick myself up to answer the call. When I walk out of the cave-like bedroom, I open the window to hear birds singing their morning glory song. Swallows swoop circles inches away, then like an Olympic diver fly straight down for the gorge and flap back up again for air. I look to the upper left hand corner of the window to the spider webs gracefully swaying in the sunny breeze. Last evening, I had finally met the creator of this delicate lace: a sturdy spider with long, sassy legs. Upon seeing her I said, “Oh there you are,” and promptly named her Lucy. “She must still be sleeping,” I thought now.

I stay still, watching the birds and listening to the water below until the 7:15 bells chime, urging me to get moving. After getting dressed, I’m ready for my first jog in Vitorchiano. As I walk through the town, people stare at me with curious looks that say, “Who is this woman? She’s not from here. Look at her with an iPod stuck to her ears and keychain wrapped around her wrist. What is the word on her shirt? Creighton? What is that? Hhmmmmmm. Her dark hair and eyes make her look Mediterranean, but we haven’t seen her around here.” Even the cats look at me suspiciously. Soon enough I’m away from their gazes as I jog past the cemetery and onto a country road. I think it’s ironic that I’m listening to Jay-Z and Beyonce sing to me when I could listen to the sounds of nature, but I keep them in my ears to reassure me of home on this foreign land. I like the thought of running through the Italian countryside, but I wonder what could be lurching in the wild underbrush near the trail. Could vipers be waiting in there? Does Italy have bobcats like the one we found dead in a ditch near our farm in Nebraska? What’s this scat on the trail? Please, God, let it be from a wild cat and not something more vicious. Occasionally, I would yell out it triumph over tackling a big hill or just over the pure exhilaration from the fact that I am jogging on this dirt road in the middle of Italy. I’m sure upon hearing my hoops and hollers the poppies flushed a deeper red over frustration that I’d disturb guarded fields.

As I start back towards town, I wonder: How many birds could be sitting in the overhanging trees above? Do they have many bees here? While getting closer to my flat, I think: this jog is much like my adventure to Italy. I have so many questions about this place and so many questions of myself. I did not know what to expect, but I’m chugging through the experience. I’m living the process as I uncover the answers. I’m staying rooted in my home place, but gathering pieces of Italian life. When I unlock my door, I smile when I see my window. It pulls me in, so I can look out over the gorge to the other side of life and wonder what it’s like to live there.

Villa Lante

2010-06-04T16:47:00.000-05:00

“We live in a wonderful world that is full of beauty, charm and adventure. There is no end to the adventures we can have if only we seek them with our eyes open.” ~ Jawaharial Nehru

Sergio took Sandy and I to Villa Lante located in Bagniaia. It is an amazing garden created by/for Cardinal Gembara. Apparently, he really liked to entertain here. The photos will show you what I mean, but to learn more, check out this website:
http://www.gardenvisit.com/garden/villa_lante

Sergio is stuck in a tree!!!

Sergio and I

This is a table...they would stick their feet in the water at the base of the table and their bottles in the middle...good thinking!

Sandy and I

Arriving in Vitorchiano

2010-06-04T16:07:00.000-05:00

“This sensual yearning for knowledge, this insatiable wanderlust, this long desire.” ~Anatole France

I enjoyed the train ride to Vitorchiano from Florence. It gave me a chance to see the countryside of Tuscany through Umbria and on to the Lazio region where Vitorchiano is located. The poppies are my favorite....

“To my mind, the greatest reward and luxury of travel is to be able to experience everyday things as if for the first time, to be in a position in which almost nothing is so familiar it is taken for granted.” ~Bill Bryson

I met Sandy, the other woman taking the writing workshop and my new friend, and Mrs. Simonicini, our driver, at Orte train station. It's about a 20 minute drive to Vitorchiano from the station. Mrs. Simonicini speaks extremely limited English, but Sandy tried to communicate with her. Poor Sandy was tricked at the Rome station because a man told her he could get her a ticket to Orte on a bus. So she gave him 30 euro and he disappeared!

Here are a couple pictures of Vitorchiano from across the gorge. My window is on the right side of the picture.

When I arrived at Vitorchiano, I met Linda and her husband, Sergio. I couldn't say enough good things about them! I felt welcomed and instantly comfortable with them.

This is "my window" in my flat.

Sunday morning, I was able to experience some of what it means to live in the village because they had a "procession". The Catholic processions are a big deal here and several are carried out over the year. The pictures posed here are of the procession in honor of St. Amanzio.

Notice the cat under the table...there are many cats that wander the streets here.

The flower designs are stunning.

What does "Place" mean to you? What is Place Conscious Education?

2010-06-04T15:55:00.000-05:00

*What does the word "place" mean to you? What does the phrase "place conscious education" mean to you? How have the readings of this week expanded, informed, or changed your thinking about place and place conscious work?

When I began this class, I only had place conscious writing on my mind. I had not had time to really think through what place conscious education or teaching meant. These first readings have helped me to start to make connections with some of my previous work to place conscious education. David Sobel’s article, “Building a Three-Legged Stool of Academic Achievement, Social Capital, and Environmental Quality”, explained how place conscious work can help students connect with their community. As I read this article, I thought about my work when I first began teaching to begin a high ability learner program that included schoolwide enrichment. For about 5-6 weeks 4th-6th grade students were put in “Enrichment Clusters” on Fridays for an 1-1/2. They were put in clusters based on their interests like The Young Author’s Guild, The Technology Cluster, and The Environmental Studies Group just to name a few. The point was that students investigate an interest or a problem in order to create a “product” out of it. Not all clusters connected with the community, but some did through bringing in community speakers like the detective cluster had a police officer come talk to them and the archeology one had a person from Ashfall’s come speak to them. I remember the cluster that studied Laura Ingalls Wilder had an older woman in the community come teach them how to make butter and soaps. That cluster ended with a trip to South Dakota to see where Ingalls Homestead. Another cluster that studied the environment planted trees around the courthouse in O’Neill. The Author’s Guild wrote stories that were bound and distributed to local businesses. I think of some of the social capital that took place during cluster time was just the tip of the place conscious education David Sobel describes, but nonetheless, there were some place conscious things going on for those students. If you want to read more about enrichment clusters, click on the link and go to the Spring 2007 publication.
http://www.nagc.org/index.aspx?id=1498

Sobel states that when doing place conscious education projects should be pursued within “four domains of work: curriculum integration, schoolyard enhancement, community-based education, and school sustainability” (p. 61). I can relate best to the community-based education piece. When I first began teaching, I earned an Americorp Teacher Grant. This money helped me go to school for my masters in gifted education, but in order to get the cash, I did service-learning projects with my students. I also helped the Americorp office at UNL put together a book with service-learning projects done by teachers in Nebraska. One of the coolest examples of things have done was from in Columbus, Nebraska.
http://www.higginsmemorial.com/Default.asp
Look at the credits and you can read a little about the teacher that made this happen. It’s incredible!

A final experience I want to share is a project my friend and colleague, Katie, and I did with our daughters and some of their friends. The girls started a group called the “Digital Divas” in order to enter a contest called Digies held by Apple. The girls wanted to do an original project that would help their community. Katie and I used what Apple calls Challenge Based Learning. http://ali.apple.com/cbl/
The girls decided that not enough people recycle in their hometown, so they came up with solutions for how to get others to become aware of how to recycle here in O’Neill. They created this website http://web.me.com/mrsmorrow/Digital_Divas_Go_Green/Welcome.html We decided to walk in the St. Patrick’s parade and pass out seed packets with a label on them with the web address. It was neat to see these girls in action as they called the local nursery to explain their project to donate the seed packets, they went to interview the people at the recycling center, and they did things on the computer that even I don’t know how to do! The girls won at the Digies AND they got the word out about the importance of recycling.

I suppose thus far, this is what place conscious education means to me because these are some of my experiences with it. Sobel’s article helped me make these connections.

After all this connecting, I started to think about what I can do NOW in my own classroom to spread place conscious education. I was inspired by Sharon’s work that she explained in the article “The Power of Place”. I like how she uses Nebraska authors and the land to inspire students’ reading and writing. I have found myself buying several books by Nebraska authors and about Nebraska over the summer. I really want to work with our science teacher to incorporate some of Loren Eiseley’s writing. I also want to use some of other stories about Nebraska and by Nebraska authors into my curriculum. I think the idea of gathering local histories sounds like something I may want to do, as well. We have a wonderful local historian in O’Neill that I am thinking of calling to see what she thinks we could do to help out the historical society. These are all the ideas floating around inside my head. This article helped me expand my thinking about place conscious education and where I want to take it.

Robert’s article helped me think more about what ‘place’ means. I grew up in O’Neill and went away for college, but came back to teach for seven years. Then I moved to Omaha for a couple of years, then back to O’Neill. I remember when I lived in Omaha, I was in an apartment and was at a new school. My daughter went to the same school I taught at, but I remember telling people I missed that sense of community I felt in O’Neill. My first year in Omaha was difficult because of this. The second year got better because Julia played soccer so I got to know those parents, but there was still something missing when we got home because we didn’t have a neighborhood and that same group of people that Julia went to school with and so on.

When Aaron and I started dating we were both living in Omaha, but both originally from O’Neill. We discussed ‘place’ a lot as we made decisions about our life together. Aaron was debating between med school and going ‘home’ to farm with his dad. I won’t go into the details (my post is already getting far too long!), but we both wanted to have a place where we could raise Julia and hopefully more kids. I guess the only way I can formulate into words what O’Neill is like for me is a hug. I have a community surrounding me and my family that is cozy and I like that. When I was in Omaha, I felt like I had no place. I was disjointed and didn’t know where Julia and I belonged. The question posed is: What does the word ‘place’ mean to you? I suppose I started to define it on my blog where I wrote about my places: Nebraska, O’Neill, & Home. I think the word place to me means ‘where you belong’.

Cinque Terre

2010-06-04T15:39:00.000-05:00

“Perhaps travel cannot prevent bigotry, but by demonstrating that all peoples cry, laugh, eat, worry, and die, it can introduce the idea that if we try and understand each other, we may even become friends.” ~ Maya Angelou

Cinque Terre is one of the most beautiful places I've ever seen. First, we took a bus to La Spezia, then I got on a boat to visit Portovenere, Monterosso and Vernazza.

Giorgio Armani's yacht!

Portovenere

I had lunch with a couple from California and the tour guide. I found it interesting to listen to their stories about where they came from. I thought about the stories people tell when they first meet people and what's most important to them that others know.

Monterosso

Vernazza: I saw a lot of women hanging out of windows watching the people here in Italy.

I also saw a lot of laundry hanging, too!

Knowing Our Place

2010-05-28T18:58:00.001-05:00

“All journeys have secret destinations of which the traveler is unaware.” ~Martin Buber

I have been reading a collection of essays by Barbara Kingsolver from her book Small Wonders. Kingsolver’s books and essays are some of my most beloved readings and would you believe she has an essay in this book called, “Knowing Our Place”? How fitting is that? Her descriptions of her two homes in the beginning of the essay make my mouth water with desire. I wish I could write like that! She describes things so well that I can smell the vegetables in her garden and I can see the bobcat that looks her in the eyes through her window. Kingsolver says, “Among the greatest of all gifts is to know our place.” I have come to Italy to write about place – physical place, for place, places of the heart, the spirit of place, the people of place, and so on. By looking at a new place, it has helped me make connections and comparisons with my own. It seems stepping away to look at my place from a different perspective helps me to understand it better. At the introduction of Small Wonders, Kingsolver says that many of the essays in this book inhaled and expanded. That’s my wish for my writing while in Italy. I hope to take time to breath, to stop, to inhale it all in; then to remember and to write. I hope what I learn here is something that I can pass on to my students so they understand themselves and their place better. Kingsolver’s essay, “Knowing Our Place” begins, “I have places where all my stories begin.” Throughout my time in Italy, I intend to gather the places where my stories begin as a diving point into my tales. I’ve begun my “deep map” exercise to help me with the process of mapping out places and collecting ideas. I will discuss my “deep map” at a later time….

2010-05-28T18:22:00.001-05:00

“Adventure is a path. Real adventure – self-determined, self-motivated, often risky – forces you to have firsthand encounters with the world. The world the way it is, not the way you imagine it. Your body will collide with the earth and you will bear witness. In this way you will be compelled to grapple with the limitless kindness and bottomless cruelty of humankind – and perhaps realize that you yourself are capable of both. This will change you. Nothing will ever again be black-and-white.” ~Mark Jenkins

My Hotel

2010-05-28T18:17:00.001-05:00

This is my hotel...it's wonderful, but it creeps me out every time I have to walk by the serial killer mask store!

2010-05-28T18:16:00.000-05:00

2010-05-28T18:15:00.000-05:00

Exploring Florence

2010-05-28T18:11:00.000-05:00

Today was my first full day in Florence. I have been studying the people and the place for things to write about – I think I make people nervous that I’m always writing things down in my little journal. I have so many stories in my head, but I don’t know where to start. More importantly, I don’t know what to write about or who my audience would be. I have so many collections of journals and writings that I don’t know what to do with, but I’m sure it will come to me one day.

Anyway, back to Florence….I started my day with some time inside Santa Maria del Fiore. The history of this landmark church and dome had my full attention. It baffles me how Brunelleschi could plan such a dome and carry out the structure so long ago. Climbing 400+ steps was worth the view of Florence from above.

After this, I wandered over to the Piazza della Signoria for lunch. Today this is area is lined with cafes and people meandering around the square, but it once was the spot where Savonarola set the famous bonfire of vanities. Thinking about Savonarola my mind turns to a dark, dismal place – the thought of him burning books, paintings, mirrors, musical instruments and so on still curls my lip. I’m glad those days are over here and I was able to enjoy a light lunch outside. Luckily, I was under a large umbrella because it began to rain.

I then strolled over to the Uffizi Gallery to see a great collection of Renaissance art. I was most impressed with the great hall and the thought that the Medici once walked through it. Seeing Botticelli’s Venus was a highlight, as well.

My favorite part of the day was my jog to the train station for my Saturday ticket and then over the Arno River and back. I was dodging people, mopeds, bikes, cars and buses, but it was worth it!

I feel like I must apologize for my lazy writing. It’s not very entertaining or descriptive– just an account of what’s happening. I’m just so tired at night…I’ll have many, many hours of writing time once I begin my workshop. ☺

2010-05-27T17:43:00.000-05:00

Ponte Vecchio

2010-05-27T17:42:00.000-05:00

Duomo

Meeting Florence

2010-05-27T17:41:00.000-05:00

When I arrived in Florence I got settled in my hotel. It’s called Hotel Gioia (pronounced Joy-ya) and is it ever a joy! I am smack in the middle of Piazza del Duomo and Accademia! Since I didn’t have too much time to look around, I just wanted to get my bearings down. I wandered past the Duomo, mouth dropped open the entire time, with my camera snapping. Then I headed towards Ponte Vecchio where the streets are lined with gold – gold jewelry that is – there are so many jewelry shops that I couldn’t believe my eyes! I ate at a lovely restaurant that was right above the Arno River and across from Uffizi Gallery. The view was mesmerizing as it had my complete attention. Later I made some phone calls home and had a rest on the steps of Santa Maria del Fiore, otherwise known as the Duomo which means house, but in this case, the House of God. I feel so blessed to have this experience! “The world is a book and those who do not travel read only one page.” ~St. Augustine

2010-05-27T17:40:00.000-05:00

My first meal in Italy along the Arno River.

2010-05-27T17:17:00.000-05:00

Rebel with a Charge

2010-05-27T17:14:00.001-05:00

“There is no moment of delight in any pilgrimage like the beginning of it.” ~Charles Dudley Warner

How is it that I always forget how difficult travel can be after I return from a trip? I suppose the sweat, exhaustion, stink, and difficulties are worth the adventure that lies ahead. The first leg of my trip from Omaha to Chicago went well with little turbulence though there was a storm in Iowa as we flew over it. I have to say that Chicago airport is kind of cool, and it’s clean. As I walked from one concourse the other, I had the pleasure of walking through a multi-colored area that made me feel like I was inside of a crayon box. The neon squiggles on the ceiling and frost colored glass made me feel whimsical. After emerging from the area, I rode next to a man that commented he felt like he had just been to a fun house. I had to agree.

I know the airport is clean because I spent quite some time on the bathroom floor. I wasn’t sick, but charging my computer and cell phone. Can you believe it costs $2.00 to use the “charging station”? Outlets are a hot commodity here and the charging area was full, so I used my head and figured there would be some outlets in the bathroom. I was right. When I started charging, I didn’t realize that there was a cost in the airport. When the cleaning lady came in, I thought I might get in trouble for being in her way, but she just laughed at me and thought I was a rebel for coming in the bathroom to charge. She said, “I think it’s selfish that the airport charges people to power up their things. You just go right ahead.” Later a 20-something girl from New York came in and we chitchatted. She asked me if I was backpacking and I just said yes, so I didn’t have to explain my whole trip to her. Then she told me about this Internet site that people could sign up on to eat in the homes of Italians. She said, “You look the type to do something like that.” After she left I thought, “I am an adventurous, rebel backpacker who takes pictures and writes, or at least these people think so.” When I travel, I can be whoever I want to be. My history does not hop on the plane with me. I believe William Least Heat Moon’s quote sums it up best: “When you’re traveling, you are what you are right there and then.” This intrigues me and makes me think of our writing marathons I like to go on in Nebraska with my fellow writing project friends. We are always told to tell people in the shops, cafes, or restaurants we inhabit while on a marathon, “I am a writer.” On this adventure I’m about to make, I have decided this is what I will tell people.

My flight from Chicago to Frankfurt was uneventful, but I had trouble sleeping. Unfortunately, the plane left Chicago an over hour later than planned, so I missed my connecting flight in Frankfurt by 10 minutes. So I went to rebook my flight. At this point, I was sweaty from running through the airport and exhausted. Of course one of the computers was down, so the wait was longer. When it was finally my turn, the stout woman excused herself to talk on her cell phone, which added to my frustration. When she returned she said there was a 12:30 flight, but she didn’t think I’d make it, so she would put me on the 4:00 flight. I told her I could make it, I had 45 minutes, but she wouldn’t budge. When I went to get my boarding pass from another area, I sweet-talked the lady into getting me onto the 12:30 flight. She did it and told me to hurry. I ran to the x-ray checkpoint, whipped off my belt and jacket, and then unpacked everything. I was then asked to step aside for extra screening and boy to those people like to check you – everywhere! After that, I saw that all my things came through except my computer. I was told they needed to wipe it down for explosives. I wanted to ask, “Seriously?, but bit my tongue. Arriving at my boarding area, I had sweat dripping down my face from running. I felt sorry for the people I would sit next to until I boarded. Have you ever been on a plane next to a person that hogs the arm of the chair? Well, I was next to two! At this point, I wanted to revert to Kindergarten behavior by taking my elbow and jamming it into the man to my right’s arm. I restrained myself, but the man to my left did the old slow motion arm shove – inching my arm off. I thought we would share, but he wanted to hog it, too. So there I sat, arms pinned to my side; my only comfort was that I proved the stout cell phone lady wrong and had gotten myself on this plane. I was on my way to Florence, sweaty, stinky, and exhausted, but I was on my way. This was my moment of delight, my beginning.

Questions:
Who do you want to be on your next vacation?
What has been your favorite beginning to a trip?

Ciao Baby!

2010-05-19T19:22:00.001-05:00

I am in preparation to depart for Italy in less than a week! I received a grant from Fund for Teachers www.fundforteachers.org to embark on a journey to Italy for a writer’s workshop. I’m so grateful for this opportunity to visit a country I have always desired to see and to take a weeklong writing class from Linda Lappin. http://www.lindalappin.net/bio.htm The workshop is called “Tapping into the Soul of Place”. Because I fully believe in the Nebraska Writer’s Project’s mission that a true teacher of writing must be a writer herself/himself, I constantly am looking for opportunities to better my own writing skills. http://www.unl.edu/newp/ My hope is to bring back lessons learned at the workshop and ideas about place conscious writing for my students. To learn more about where I’ll be and what I’ll be up to, check out my blog over the next few weeks. I hope to have internet connection while I’m in the small town of Vitorchiano, Italy. In the meantime, you can see for yourself where I’ll be while taking the workshop: http://www.pokkoli.org/

My Little Bubble

2010-05-16T15:45:00.000-05:00

This was my original title that my daughter, Julia, came up with. When I explained to her that I am taking a class about place conscious writing and what that meant, she thought I should name it My Little Bubble. She said that sometimes when I am stressed, I come home to "My Little Bubble" where I'm around people who love me and I can relax. After I pondered about what Julia said, I thought that out of all the "places" I claim as spaces that have shaped my identity; I believe My Little Bubble is my most cherished.

2009-09-01T22:33:00.000-05:00

Gathering Place

2009-08-29T10:20:00.000-05:00

My husband is reading Melvin R. Gilmore's book Uses of Plants by the Indians of the Missouri River Region. He pointed out in the preface Gilmore's reasons for taking the time to gather this information about the uses of plants. Gilmore states a "potent reason for gathering such information while it may still be obtained, before the death of all the old people who alone possess it, is that it is only in the light of knowledge of physical environments that folklore, ritual, ceremony, custom, song, story, and philosophy can be interpreted intelligently. The intellectual and spiritual life of a people is reflected from their material life. The more fully and clearly the physical environment of a people is known the more accurately can all their cultural expressions be interpreted." This passage is a powerful message about the importance of physical place and the role it plays in our identity as a culture and an individual. I am curious to explore more about how my place has shaped my past and wonder how place will form my future.

2009-08-28T15:58:00.000-05:00

I am from

2009-08-28T15:03:00.000-05:00

This is an "I am from" poem I'm still working through. It is about growing up in O'Neill - the same place I live now.

I am from a little yellow bathing suit

Age 3

Determined

Follow big sister to the pool

Mom panicked, but found me

Stubborn

Left out

I am from my "fly dress"

Age 5

Spinning

Make the yellow dress twirl out

Full of dreams, carefree

Crooked bow, missing teeth

Smiling

I am from a Halloween pumpkin costume

Age 7

Loved

Sewn by my dad

Stuffed me with newspaper

Warm heart on a chilly night

Trick or Treat

I am from a white first communion dress

Age 8

Curious

Golden cup stains my lips

Round wafer sticks to my tongue

Follow the group

Hands folded

I am from a white training bra

Age 12

Humiliated

In Alco with my mom

Pick it out fast

No one notice my changing body

Hiding

I am from number 33 basketball jersey

Age 15

Fired up

Part of a team

Never much of a competitor

Yet working

Playing

I am from green & white Irish costume

Ages 6-18

Dancing

On the shamrock

From my feet to my heart

To where I came back year after year

To where I came back to call home

Where I Belong - Home

2009-08-28T00:01:00.000-05:00

My favorite place to be is at home with my family. My husband, Aaron, daughter, Julia, and dog, Jack, make me incredibly happy. They keep me grounded, keep me laughing, and are good at reminding me to take time to enjoy the moments in life. I am blessed.

Where I Grew - O'Neill

2009-08-27T23:20:00.000-05:00

O'Neill is a small town in central Nebraska. I grew up here going to Catholic school and dancing on the shamrock in the middle of main street each St. Patrick's Day. As I reflect on the places of this small town that shaped me: the library where I was filled with imagination and smell of books when I visited, the kiddie park that was just down the street from my house where I spun down the tornado slide, Torpins Rodeo Market where I learned about commitment to a job as a check out girl, and St. Mary's Schools where I created friendships that have lasted a lifetime & faith that has held me upright when times were tough.

One of my favorite places in O'Neill is my parents' backyard. As a child, their hammock held great joy when I played games like "Alligator" or snuggle time with mom or dad. As I grew older, I would lay in the hammock looking up through the tree branches, thinking. Walking into their backyard brings peace and fond memories.

Now I live in O'Neill with my family and this town has taken on new meaning to me as an adult. One thing I truly love about it here is having a sense of community. I like that most people know who I am and that when I go to the grocery store there are friendly faces greeting me. Some think it's intrusive that everyone knows your business (and yes, at times that is not the best thing), but I have seen this town come together in tragedy or times of need and I appreciate it. The school I work at is a good place to be. I have great colleagues and students that make me smile everyday.

Where I Claim Home - Nebraska

2009-08-27T22:37:00.000-05:00

The first time I really ventured out in the world for an extended period of time was when I went to UConn for my masters program. A cadre of teachers from around the world went through the Three Summers Program. As I got to know my new friends, it was the first time people asked me about where I was from and what it was like to live in Nebraska. I remember at first I didn't really have an answer. I wondered to myself, what does it mean to live in Nebraska? Where do I come from? For the past eight years I have been thinking about this from time to time - picking up little things here and there that will help me claim my state. Time has passed since I went through my masters program, but I do recall with fondness one of my UConn friends rarely calling me Jen, Jenny, or Jennifer during our time together in Connecticut, instead he called me "Nebraska" and I wore that name with pride. I hope the place conscious writing class I am taking now will help me dig in to search for some answers to what it means to wear that name and what it means to be "from Nebraska".