What my grandmother taught me

Salve, amici. It's been too long, I know, but if New Yorkers think theirs is the city that never sleeps, I dare them to plan a trip to Rome.

As many of you probably know, I lost my lovely grandmother on March 10. She lived a full, beautiful life of 89 years, was an amazing mother to five, proudly bragged about her fifteen grandchildren, and was the loving spouse of a devoted husband (my grandpa) for over sixty years. Her passing was not so much a tragedy as the peaceful conclusion of a life well lived, but it has been with great sadness that I've slowly been coming to terms with the fact that one of my biggest fans and role models is no longer just a phone call away.

Losing a loved one while overseas is a very strange grief experience. On one hand, it is easy to be distracted from the initial pain of loss. But on the other, it takes a long time to adjust to the sadness because it is not always present, and so when it breaks through the distraction of your separated environment it is all the more difficult to face. And facing a family death without the physical presence of your family is not ideal, either. Nevertheless, in the past weeks I've been able to reflect on just what an amazing life my grandmother led and how I hope to be blessed with a fraction of the incredible memories and people she enjoyed. I know this is a travel blog, but I hope that you'll consider exploring the journey of my relationship with my grandmother part of the traveling experience. :)

So...what I have learned from my grandmother? In one sentence, I can tell you: She taught me how to be a lady.

HOLD UP! Jennifer Vosters, a lady? Isn't she too tall? Too loud? Too...blonde (in every sense of the word)? Doesn't she go to a women's college? Isn't she supposed to be all-feminist, against-this-old-fashioned-nonsense, being-a-lady-is-conforming-to-gender-roles-and-stereotypes-that-reinforce-the-patriarchal-society?

Yes, I do go to a women's college. Yes, I'm a feminist; you all are too. And I grant that the connotation of "being a lady" might go against the current grain. But that's because the connotation is wrong. (Trust me, I'm an English major. And a woman.) Being a lady doesn't mean sitting in your domestic circle, taking orders from the nearest Y chromosome, serving dinner in smiling silence and reading only the latest edition of Woman's Day. Being a lady means emphasizing humanity while embracing femininity with dignity. Being a lady means putting your best self forward whenever you can. Being a lady means making decisions, taking risks, and aiming high, pushing yourself and pulling others up with you. Basically, being a lady means kicking ass with class. (Sorry for the French, Grandma, but you're worth it.)

I'm proud to say I'm a lady - or at least working towards becoming one. And I'm even prouder to say that my grandmother, throughout nine decades of life, was the epitome of a lady in every way. So let me tell you how.

1. Ladies set goals and achieve them.
Annabelle Van Gilder didn't know how to drive or how to swim when she got married in the early '50s; she didn't learn until much later, in fact. Most people would probably not bother after a certain point. Certainly not after middle age. Especially not swimming. (I mean, what's the point? In Wisconsin, the water's ice for half the year anyway.) But my grandma did. She stuck it out through lessons with a crabby-to-the-point-of-sadistic driving instructor who tried to trick her into failing her driving test. She practiced in the YMCA pool until she was satisfied that she could not only survive but thrive in the water. She didn't get embarrassed at not knowing how to do something - or if she did, she didn't let it stop her. She tried, and she learned, and then she put those skills into practice; she ended up driving some of the prettiest cars I've ever seen (including the one in which I eventually learned how to drive), and she snorkeled in Australia's Great Barrier Reef. Talk about payoff. Take that, Driving Instructor.

2. Ladies are adventurers and risk-takers.
Recently, I saw an old photo of my grandma riding a camel. Yeah. It was pretty awesome to see, but that wasn't even so strange for her. She did some incredible things and took some big risks, especially on the trips she took with my grandpa to places like China, southern Africa, Australia, Jamaica, and the wilds of Canada. Those trips weren't always relaxing, mind you; she went on a safari, spent the night in a tent while wild animals prowled outside, and earned the special attentions of a Masai chief (maybe because of her red hair?). She saw the Forbidden City and trekked the Great Wall; I, who was very small at the time, was terrified she'd get lost, but she apparently wasn't. She didn't let fear or insecurity keep her from taking advantage of incredible opportunities, and she's been a big inspiration for my adventures in Europe this year. She was also one of the people who was most excited for me to go, probably because she knew exactly what wonders were in store.

3. Ladies are polite and respectful.
I'm still in the developing stages of this one, but my grandma was a pro. The worst insult I ever heard her hurl at someone was calling a corrupt politician a "sleazeball," and he wasn't even within earshot. That's not to say she didn't get mad, or frustrated, or offended; it's also not to say she didn't speak her mind, which she certainly did. But for the most part, she knew how to channel negative feelings about someone so nobody got hurt. And I'm sure that's kept many relationships healthy, many interactions positive, and many memories happy.

4. Ladies put their best foot forward when they can.
My mom has told me stories about my grandmother's incredible mothering feats, like feeding seven people with full gourmet dinners every day while still having time to host parties, keep a well-run house, keep track of a menace of a dog, and learn how to do things like drive and swim. I speak for myself knowing that it'd be pretty hard to remain sane - let alone positive - with so much responsibility on my shoulders all the time. But my grandma not only did it all but did it all without complaint. And without a break, for the most part. She put 100% effort into everything she did and still remembered to do it with a smile, to take the time to make herself feel pretty (which is more important than making others think you're pretty), and to do extra special things on the side. She had bad days - she probably had terrible days - but when she could, she did her best. And that's pretty inspiring.

5. Ladies have good taste.
It's true that my grandma had a great fashion sense, was a fantastic cook, and possessed a fine critical eye for literature and film. But she also had great taste in people. She chose her friends wisely and loved them fiercely. She raised her children to respect the values she thought were most important. She gave great advice and did so discerningly, careful to give it right when it was needed. She was choosey in the best sense of the word, spending time on what was good and important while not wasting energy on things that weren't worth her time. This is another area where I think a lot of people (my age especially) should use her as an example. Trust your judgment on what's worth it; it worked out pretty well for her.

6. Ladies know what's important in life.
Closely linked to Number 5, I guess, but worth its own distinction. My grandma not only knew what was important in her life but also knew and respected what was important in others' lives. She never forgot to say her rosaries for tournaments, exams, performances, and other high-stress situations her children and grandchildren might have been facing. She kept tabs on things that interested her loved ones - like football in my brother's case, or the high school newspaper in mine. She remembered birthdays, holidays, and special days. She went to great lengths to look out for her loved ones, including lying sprawled out on the front lawn - in full view of the neighbors - holding a piece of bologna to lure back the same dog that had eaten an entire batch of her blueberry pie...just because her family loved him. She made those around her feel special and attended to. I hope to emulate her more in this generosity of time and attention that she gave without fail.

7. Ladies love.
She had a lot of love to give, and boy, did she give it well. From my earliest memories of her - holding my hand and counting the steps with me so I, with my short toddler legs, wouldn't fall - to my last, as I held her hand before leaving for Europe, my grandma was one of the most unconditionally loving people I've known. Once she decided she liked you, that was it: You were in for life. (Unless your name is Tiger Woods or Brett Favre. They were officially ousted from her good books.) She never, ever, ran out of smiles, kind words, and genuine affection for her loved ones, even through the difficult final months of her life when she couldn't find very many reasons to keep smiling. This is not just the core of being a lady, however; this is the heart of being human. So I guess what I'm trying to say is that in terms of being a human of the highest quality, Grandma, you nailed it.

I'll never be able to repay my grandma, not if she or I lived for a hundred years. But I guess that's another lesson I'm learning because of her: how to accept what you can never repay. I'm so blessed that I can look back on a life as rich and meaningful as my grandmother's as an example for my own, and to do so joyfully. Because the truth is, I know I'm not finished learning from Grandma. I'm not finished looking up to her. I'm not finished loving her, either. And do you know what? I don't think she's finished loving me either.

So until we meet again, Toowah, I know you'll be helping that road rise up to meet me, keeping the wind ever at my back, with the sun shining warm upon my face and the rain falling softly upon my fields. I know you'll put in a good word so God will keep me in the palm of Her hand, and I know you'll be keeping me in the palm of yours, as well.

Addio, e ci vediamo. :)

Another Smick Adventure: Northern Italy, February 25-March 1

Last semester I documented without even the pretense of brevity the Saint Mary's College Rome Program's group trip to Southern Italy, where we explored the Campania region with stops in Herculaneum, Pompeii, Amalfi, Paestum, Capri, Naples, and Cuma. My other ventures south of Rome were to the small city of Matera in Basilicata and, recently, to Palermo in Sicily. As I mentioned in my last post, the South has consistently been home to my favorite vacation destinations for its rich ancient culture and lively ambience. I'd spent a fair amount of time in central and northern Italy over Christmas with my family, visiting Florence, Pisa, Siena, and Venice; but each of these has its own history and vibe and makes it hard to formulate an overall view on what the "North" is generally like. I was privileged enough to experience deep south, central, and north within the span of one week, for having returned from Sicily I spent one full day in Rome before heading off with thirty of my classmates for five days in the upper stretches of the peninsula.

Our home base was the little city of Ferrara, a lasting intellectual haven with a lingering Middle-Ages aftertaste. Located in the fertile region of Emilia-Romagna in the Po River Valley, Ferrara and the surrounding area is surprisingly flat compared to the hills and mountains that dominate much of Italy. It is an appealing mix of modern and medieval, with stark brick castles from the 13th century wedged comfortably among chic shops and restaurants serving what is widely regarded as the best food in Italy. Much of the north, we were to find, followed this blueprint, though each city we visited boasted unique treasures to enjoy. It was a strange combination indeed for us to walk through a pre-Renaissance fortress on our way to visit an exhibition of Henri Matisse (a 19th/20th century French painter), but it summarized Ferrara well: a proud and beautiful heritage that hasn't keep the city so rooted in the past as to forget the recent and the contemporary. Most of the traffic on the wide cobblestone streets was by bicycle, in spite of the cold, and a large concentration of university students gave Ferrara (and the rest of the north) a fresh, updated energy that was much more familiar than the "exotic" south and much calmer than the big-city chaos of Rome.

The castle at Ferrara, with a bicyclist!

The Matisse exhibit, with all its abstract simplicity, was a delightful change of pace from the high concentration of medieval and Renaissance works we've been studying this semester, but for the next several days we didn't make it any closer to the present than the 1500s. Our first full day was spent in Mantova (English "Mantua"), the birthplace of my dear Publius Virgilius Maro (author of the Aeneid) and, like Ferrara, dominated by austere and impressive medieval towers and fortresses. We wandered the impressive aristocratic halls of the Palazzo Té, the Gonzaga family's leisurely retreat, before crossing a natural moat into the old city center. After peering uneasily up at the cage in which unhappy prisoners were once suspended from a tower, we visited a perfectly preserved Renaissance home that had once housed the now-beatified Osanna Andreasi to get a hint of what life was like five centuries ago.

You do not want to be put in that cage

Towers galore in Mantova

Mantova is sometimes called "Little Venice" for its canals

The following day we tackled the art historian's dream town of Ravenna (also the burial place of Dante Alighieri, the Italian Chaucer/Shakespeare who wrote The Divine Comedy). After visiting two beautiful early Christian churches with the same name (Sant'Apollinare) and with spectacular Byzantine mosaics, we were wowed once again by the luminous San Vitale (decorated with frescoes and mosaics) and the mausoleum of Goth queen-consort Galla Placidia with (you guessed it) more mosaics that mimicked the starry sky. Day three was a marathon of Padova (Padua) and Vicenza. In the former we toured the lively city streets, walking near the university that had educated the first ever woman college-graduate, visiting the tomb of Saint Anthony, and indulging in some fried seafood courtesy of the Veneto region in which we found ourselves. We also visited the breathtaking Scrovegni Chapel, the magnum opus of the great Renaissance painter Giotto. (To prevent deterioration due to the elements, we had to sit for twenty minutes in a special chamber that recycled air to get rid of as much dust and moisture in our clothing as possible.) We spent only a brief time in Vicenza but managed to see the easily-recognizable works of Palladio, creator of the "palladian" architectural style that heavily inspired British and American building technique, most obviously with Thomas Jefferson's home at Monticello.

Dante's tomb, Ravenna

Apse mosaics at San Vitale, Ravenna

Classic Byzantine mosaic of the Emperor Justinian in San Vitale

Justinian's wife, Theodora

Mosaic ceiling in Galla Placidia's mausoleum, Ravenna

Christ as the Good Shepherd, Mausoleum of Galla Placidia

One of Padova's most colorful markets

A culinary adventure with fried seafood, Padova

Classic palladian villa near Vicenza, the inspiration for Jefferson's Monticello estate

Our final day was spent in illustrious Bologna, home to Europe's oldest university, that has maintained its college-town feel even while steeped in the sophistication of a northern medieval city. It was cold and rainy, but we managed to do the following: 1) see more medieval architecture!!!! 2) catch a glimpse of a really famous Italian guy, 3) visit another major saint's tomb (none other than Saint Dominic), 4) explore three more churches, including a really cool one from the 11th century, and 5) eat one of the best meals of our lives (more about that later). We all wished we could have stayed longer, for Bologna had a cheery elegance (that would have lent itself for some excellent shopping) and was mildly urban without the incessant traffic and tourism of Rome.

Bologna's famous two towers (cue LOTR music)

A famous guy coming out of a Bologna church! (Apparently a well-known actor and singer)

The food of this trip - of this entire part of Italy, Emilia-Romagna in particular - is almost worth its own post, but since I've already dedicated plenty to discussing the culinary superiority of the Italian culture, I'll try to limit myself to a paragraph. Simply put, it's believed that the food in this region is the best partly because the soil is the best, better for growing wheat than any other part of the country. And we all know what wheat means: pasta. Emilia-Romagna is the queen of pasta - making it, cooking it, filling it, saucing it - and also happens to be brilliant with bread, pastries, prosciutto, and cheese. (World-famous Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese comes trademarked from two cities in this region, Parma and Reggio-Emilia.) Bologna, capital of the region, is also known as the food capital of the country, churning out hearty Emilian specialties of ragù (meat sauce), tortellini, lasagne, and tagliatelle like popcorn. Ferrara and Mantova are famous for their cappellacci con zucca - jumbo tortellini filled with pumpkin and usually topped with either ragù or butter and sage; but the towns are distinguishable even from each other by the fact that Mantovan cooks will crumble sweet almond biscotti into the pumpkin filling. Such good food surely inspires a spirit of limitless camaraderie; we befriended our waitress Oksana, a young Russian woman who was thrilled that we were from the United States, and even went back to leave her a note on our last night in Ferrara. Celebrating our friend Maddie's birthday could not have come in a more delicious collection of cities; add that to the fact that it was Carnevale time when pastry chefs were busy baking lots of seasonal specialties, and we were in the region at one of the best food times we could have hoped for.

Cappellacci con zucca al ragù, Ferrara

Cappellacci con zucca al burro e salvia, Mantova
(These were extra sweet from the crumbled cookies inside)

Torta di tagliatelle, Ferrara (yes, that is dried pasta on top of a chocolate torte!)

The best lasagne of my life (with the famous ragù meat sauce), Bologna

Beyond the food and the monuments, however, the reserved refinement of Northern Italy was a lovely contrast with the spicy southern weekend I'd enjoyed previously. The people were as friendly and welcoming as their Sicilian counterparts but with a poise that reminded me more of Western Europe than of the Mediterranean. It was still definitively Italian, mind you, just a little more tame than Rome or Sicily or Naples. It was a breath of familiarity, a step closer to the current, collegiate world we'd left behind, less stuccoed and marbled and more bricked and paved. To pick between North and South just isn't feasible, so the closest I can say is this: I could see myself living in the North the way I couldn't in the South, but for a vacation, an adventure, and a blast, I'd hop on the next train southward.

The contrast between North and South also once again signals just how vital Italy has been to the history of the Western world. It was the seat of ancient civilization, the skeleton of which still stands in Rome's monuments and the ruins that dot the southern half of the country. But it was also massively important to the modern world, playing a central role in the artistic and political developments of the Middle Ages and being the people to lead the way into the Renaissance, which set the world on track to where it is today. Caesar, Cicero, Virgil, and Augustus - the titans of the ancient world at whom we still marvel today - were the predecessors of Dante, Galileo, Da Vinci, Michelangelo, Machiavelli: all Italians, all transformative in the history of civilization. So in another way, heading northward is like heading forward, leaving the political and religious primacy found in Rome for the intellectual and creative dominance of cities like Florence, Bologna, Padova, and Pisa.

Where else but here?

With our hostess and new friend Oksana, Ferrara