Truffles

ON WEDNESDAY MORNING I woke up bright and early at 6am to get ready to go truffle hunting for my news story. Douglas picked Tami, Kristen, Dave and I up at the Esso station and we piled into his blue Volkswagen Passat station wagon to go meet his friend, Francesco Rotondo, to go truffle hunting.

We met Francesco at a gas station in Acqualagna and headed out to the truffle fields. Francesco’s dog, Sheila, bounded out of the car the second we pulled off the road. She happily greeted all of us as we were introduced to Francesco. He explained that we would be walking about 1km from the cars up to the truffle fields. I started asking questions and Douglas spoke while all the while I was trying to take in the scenery. To get to the truffle fields we hiked up a small path that is used by the wild boar who live up on the mountain and eat the truffles. On either side of the road trees, bushes, and yellow broom fell over the path creating an almost serene nature picture.

Once the path cleared, more of the landscape could be seen. The truffle fields overlook a huge region of the Marche. We were high above the valley, which looked like a dull-colored patchwork quilt in the early morning mist. The colors were natural and simple and showed the simplicity and slow pace of life of the region we were in.

We veered off the path to walk through huge sunflower fields that would be in high bloom in August. It was ridiculous trying to take in all of the scenery and colors while trying to follow Francesco’s Italian and Doug’s translation. Francesco talked about how Sheila would find the truffles and the best places to look for them. Sheila happily ran around with her nose to the ground, seeing if she could find the next hidden truffle. Francesco slowly watched Sheila and encouraged her to find the truffles. Sheila responded excitedly and very positively to Francesco’s encouraging words of “find”, “seek”, “where is it”, and so on.

Sheila sniffed near the branches of a small oak tree growing on the side of the hill. The hill looked barren, with no grass, as truffles tend to kill all of the grass in the area near where they grow.

Sheila’s small black frame started to excitedly move as her tail wagged back and forth. The front part of her torso leaned forward as she started to dig the earth away, putting her nose first so she could still detect the scent. Francesco took his small digging spade and helped move some of the larger rocks out of Sheila’s way as she kept up the frantic search for the truffle. Suddenly she stopped digging and turned away. I stood there wondering if her actions were all a charade until Francesco started to congratulate the dog and give her a treat from his left pocket. I then noticed that Francesco had a small, black, pumice-looking stone in his right hand, which he slowly rubbed dirt off of. He passed the truffle to me and let me smell the distinctive yet pungent smell of the small truffle. I smiled as he presented it to me as a gift.

--Kathryn Gregory

The Waterfall

KATRINA AND I WERE FINALLY ABLE to find one of the waterfalls yesterday, despite the inadequate directions we had. After scurrying down a winding street with no sidewalk, dodging cars for fifteen minutes, thinking that we were going the wrong way, we came across a path leading to the water. I was immediately disappointed by the sign forbidding visitors to swim since it was finally a nice, hot day, but we continued down the narrow path, swatting bugs away from out faces. I definitely recommend wearing sneakers to traverse the steep path down to the river.

When we finally got to the flat rock that we could lie down on, I felt that the walk was completely worth it. The waterfall area was so calming and peaceful. I was pleased that the only sounds to be heard were the waterfall and the chirping birds. Even though Cagli isn’t a bustling metropolitan city, it was still relaxing to not hear cars whizzing by and motorino horns honking for a few hours.

I was surprised that this secluded area only had one beer bottle and a few cigarette butts strewn about. If there were beautiful places like this in America that were not closed after dark they would be inundated with beer cans and bottles. When we scaled the rocks and dipped our feet into the ice cold water, I was glad that I could see straight to the bottom of the unpolluted river that was swarming with fish. I hope it stops raining so we can frequent the waterfall more often.

--Alex Cirillo

Cars

THE FIRST FEW DAYS I WAS IN CAGLI, I thought that there was at least some pattern to the traffic. I thought I was good if I stayed to the side of the road and watched out for cars. Today on the piazza, I came to a different conclusion. I was working on my video project taping some of the cafes. There were many students around and lots of cars, those moving and those parked around the fountain. I realized early on that the moving cars proceeded in a circle around the fountain, and if I stayed near the cars inside the white box surrounding the fountain and framed by lampposts I would be fine.

Today I was getting video from the center parking section overlooking Caffe d’Italia with my arm balanced on the lamppost and I nearly got run over several times. I’m all for watching where you step, but today it really seemed like unless I was actually in the cafes I was at risk of being run over!

My motto now, on the side streets—just watch out for cars. But on the piazza, be sitting at a table or take your own life into your hands.

--Anne Wessel

Generosity

“I’m starving. I thought this was a restaurant, but he did not give us a menu.” I comment to Debbie and Tammy. It is my first night in Cagli. I glance at my watch. It is about 10:30 and I’ve been traveling since 5:00 a.m.

“I don’t know how to ask for a menu.” Debbie replies, so we approach the bar and attempt communication. After a few moments of hand gesturing along with a mix of English, Spanish, and Italian phrasing—we order a couple of glasses of wine. The wine is great, but it does little to satisfy my growing appetite. I find it impossible to concentrate or contribute to the conversation between Debbie and Tammy.

“Oh my god! They have a pizza.” I blurt out probably more loudly than necessary. I openly stare at the pizza just placed on the bar. The pizza the bartenders begin to eat. My stomach screams in protest to the possibility that it might not be fed this evening and forces me to stand. I approach the female bartender and begin a repeat of speaking in a mix of Spanish and English while gesturing toward the pizza.

The woman nods and smiles and I assume that I have just placed an order for a pizza. Then the woman proceeds to get a small plate and approach her own pizza and remove a few slices.

“No. No. No….I don’t want to take your pizza!” I attempt to explain that was not asking for a piece of her pizza. However, she looks completely confused. Debbie comes over to assist. Finally, I just shake my head and say no thank you, smile and return to my table. Furious, my stomach makes a few punches against my spine. Oh well, it is going to be a hungry first night in Cagli.

Suddenly a plate with four small slices of pizza is placed on our table. I look up and the woman just smiles and quickly walks away. Speaking to her back, I mumble thank you and begin to devour the pizza. Clearly, the bartenders were sharing their dinner with me. I, unlike my stomach, felt guilty. “What if they felt obligated to give me some of their pizza?” I think. I don’t want their first impression of the new batch of American students to be that we are inconsiderate or rude. I decide to try and pay for my pizza.

Debbie and I approach the bar and the bartender gives us a tab that contains only our wine orders, so I try to ask about paying for the pizza. He shakes his head no, but I give him two extra euros. He smiles and I again bumble through some form of thank you from saving me from starvation communication.

“That was so nice of them.” I comment as we exit the bar. Debbie and Tammy agree. They leave to go to the bus stop to meet our roommate, so I slowly walk back to the apartment I’ll be calling my home for the next month. I observe all the people sitting and talking around the fountain area. There is such a sense of community. I feel a slight pang of envy. “What does it feel like to be a member of this quaint little village?” I suppose that is what I’ll be attempting to discover over the next few weeks…

--Cindy Dew

THIS IS THE STORY of four guys picked to live in a villa, work together and have their work documented on the web to find out what happens when people stop being lazy and start getting serious. This is the Real World Cagli.

Bonding, friendships, sincerity, manners, culture. These are just some of the qualities that Cagli has brought out of me so far. I constantly find myself extremely content just sitting and relaxing, where at home, it’s just not the same. Walking around you feel this sense of security and closeness that you can only find in a small town like Cagli. Although sleep is rare during an experience such as this one, seeing the artistic town while walking across the bridge between Old and New Cagli instills in me a sense of beauty and elegance that acts as a motivator for my day.

-Brett Kahn

BEFORE TRAVELING TO ITALY, I had many preconceived ideas about the country and its people. My grandfather, who had recently been in Rome on a business trip, warned me extensively of the gypsies and pickpockets. So naturally, upon arriving at the airport, I was slightly paranoid, clutching my bag tightly as I went through customs and stuffing money in as many random places on my body as possible. I kept checking to make sure my passport and credit cards were safely hiding in my purse within my purse anti-theft system I had so intelligently rigged up.

However, what I actually experienced that first day and continue to experience here every day is quite the opposite of what I expected. No one was even attempted to rob me. Instead, I have found that people here are exceptionally kind and courteous, much more so than anyone I’ve ever encountered in the United States. When Mary and I went to Naples our first few days, we actually had a boy carry all of our luggage for us on and off the trains, help us buy our tickets, and find our way around.

My experience in Cagli has been similar. […]

-Katie Koepfinger
(Temple)

IN OUR INTERCULTURAL COURSE today, John said the Japanese have a saying: The nail that sticks out gets hit. I found this to be an interesting statement to consider as we participate in this program.

Back in the U.S., I would intentionally choose to be the nail sticking out. I’ve done things differently in life. I’m still single, recently bought my first home, started grad school a year ago, and continue to travel pretty regularly. I desire the “sticking out” lifestyle.

Yet, from my graduate studies, I know how important it is to at least attempt to blend in when visiting another society. Understanding and practicing cultural rules are imperative. We should actually strive to not be the nail sticking out, which is challenging.

After the first week here, I would say this American group is sticking out. We’ve invaded a small town where perhaps some know we come, but the majority do not. I wandered off on my own last night and almost all mothers and children just watched me. As our group moved through the piazza, the locals gaze and stare in wonderment. Our sheer number last night at the pizza party had to be overwhelming for the locals trying to enjoy dinner. The room being filled with different (and probably louder—at least collectively) voices is not a common occurrence.

From the perspective of being a guest resident for one month, this wonderful place of Cagli is a nail sticking out as well. As I walk to school each morning or run on an errand at lunch, I remind myself to take in everything. This is a unique experience with a variety of cultural nails sticking out and I don’t want to miss even one.

--Debbie Schallock
(University of North Carolina at Greensboro)

THE OTHER DAY I went to a little fruit market. I had forgotten that the owner is supposed to pick out your fruit for you. I proceeded to pick two apples and two oranges on my own. Finally, I was going to have some fresh fruit! Unfortunately, what I had picked was not what I was expecting. Next time I will make sure to have them pick my fruit. It is so funny to me—in America, if there were a produce “picker” at each grocery store, people would be completely confused and upset that they were unable to feel their fruit/veggies before purchasing them.

--Claire Davis
(Gonzaga)

HAS IT ONLY BEEN A FEW DAYS since I arrived? Well, it sure doesn’t feel like it. When we arrived I was more than excited about Cagli. The ideal Italian town, Cagli was something I had never seen. I was used to the Florence and Rome-esque tourist traps where cheap trinkets litter the streets, followed closely by English-speaking vendors.

Instead, Cagli provided authentic Italian culture and a very new experience. These last few days have provided plenty of surprising and sometimes awkward moments. I think the first may have been the first night at Caffe del Corso. Upon entering, music and shouts from those already inside erupted and filled the streets of Cagli. I’m not sure I’ve ever had such a welcome.

-Ian Roeber
(Gonzaga)

TODAY I TRIED TO FIND THE GYM. I thought it was going to be a short walk but it turned into an hour and a half adventure. I asked Nicole where the gym was and she told me to walk across the bridge to New Cagli, turn left, and just keep walking. She said it would be impossible to miss, but it turned out to be impossible not to miss. I think we walked down every street. We decided to ask women in the tennis shoe store where it was and they sent us down a driveway to a garage. While we were down there some sweaty men emerged from the forest and asked us if we were looking for the soccer. We said no and became very confused. It was getting close to dinner and we were having no luck so we just gave up.

After dinner we tried again. We walked up and down the streets again asking people for the gym. We would make running gestures and they would think we wanted soccer so we pretended to lift weights and then they understood. Two women told us it was on one street and they would take us to that street. We walked down the street and found nothing. We came upon a group of old ladies and we asked them. They thought we wanted soccer at first too but then they caught on. They told us the gym was underneath the laundromat across from the bank. When we got there it was surprising how small the gym was. It does not seem like Italians exercise.

-Stephanie Meros

(Loyola)

BRAINSTORMING FOR STORY IDEAS is a task that is usually fun and creative. In journalism, writers are often assigned stories, so being given the opportunity to choose a story and let your mind run free is rewarding. Because I find it more exciting to write a story about some place I know very little about, I embraced the challenge right away. But wait! I know nothing about Cagli besides the little we have experienced and studied. Anxiety begins to build, panic slowly arrives, and this brain of mine overflows with ideas mixed with the unknown, mixed with “what am I going to write about”. I refrain from looking flustered in class, and, as soon as the 15-minute break started, threw my head in my lap. When I lifted my head I began to think, and think, and think some more! For some reason the only word that continuously echoed was Cagli.

Cagli. It’s a place hidden from most tourists, but it filled with rich history and good people. A place where “old meets new”. There’s a story! Old Cagli and New Cagli. What separates the two, brings them closer, what hidden history do the two towns have, and what keeps the people wanting more? I’m sure I’ll find something even I didn’t expect to uncover.

-Chanel Grundy

(Bennett College)

TONIGHT, AS I WAS WRITING THIS, we were sitting at one of the cafes on the piazza when I decided to go in and order a hot chocolate. I was thinking, or rather assuming that it would be just like a normal liquid beverage. I’ve been to France three times and since they have hot chocolate, it made me think Italy of all place would too. Boy, was I wrong. The man who took the order was very confused and didn’t know what I was talking about, but held up a hot chocolate packet. Later he brought me the “hot chocolate”, which was thick, just like chocolate pudding in a cup with utensils on the side. I tried to eat it and didn’t complain, but it was not what I was expecting! Luckily Father Bruno came in later and took it from me to ask for hot milk and he fixed the situation. The man told me that in Italy, chocolate is a hard solid.

-Sarah Sullivan
(St Louis University)

I CANNOT BELIEVE that I came to Cagli less than a week ago. I feel like I have been here for at least a month: already the streets are familiar and I am comfortable finding my way around the city. Although I feel that the small size of the city has helped me to feel at home so quickly, there is a special quality of Cagli that is responsible for my great level of comfort. At home, in my town of Wilmette, Illinois, there is no piazza or main gathering place. Some of the elderly people can be found in a small café every morning and teenagers are always at Chuckwagon, the pizza place on Ridge Road. There is no one place where the young and old congregate. In Cagli, the piazza is the center of town. At night, people stroll around the square licking gelato, their arms linked while they chat with their friends. I feel so welcomed and accepted into their world, how could I not love it here?

-Julia Gaspary
(Loyola)

Up above, 2007! Down below, 2006!