getting lost

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Observations:

* Bra straps show regularly, under shirts translucent as white wine.

* This is HIGH FASHION, people. Every big name, in a big store, with beautiful people sitting on marble and glass benches.

* The bells from the duomo (the huge, main cathedral in the center of Firenze) begin ringing at 7am. A beautiful way to awaken.

* Women never wear shorts. Older women wear dresses and tasteful, often large, jewelry. In general, there are many great looking people here. Beautiful skin and large features, even with no make-up.

* I passed a street yesterday where I heard a woman practicing operatic pieces, somewhere  few stories up, with open windows. It sounded like she may have been having difficulty with one particular note, as she sung and resung the phrase several times. Some sharps and flats did not deter me however, and when she did hit that note with the clearness and beauty of a siren.

* Getting lost is wonderful. I do it every day. Not purposefully. Also, on average so far, I walk about 5 hours a day. I have not tripped yet on the cobble stones street, but if I do try to walk in

the shoes I brought from Boston, I'm sure a heal will catch itself in between those darn beautiful, ancient stones. Now, getting lost after you've gone grocery shopping, and are carrying two 15 pound bags, is not so wonderful. I stumbled onto the place lost in the first place.

* Around every corner is a facade with a story. I passed by a church where Dante first met his beloved Beatrice, an apartment where Dante was said to have lived (a bit of a "scherzo" or joke among the Italians, as it is a remake of the original in a different place), the incredible Piazza de Santa Croce (where the market is alive at day, and where I first fell in love with Florence 7 years ago when I studied here with SACI), Orsan Michele, a grainery back over a thousand years ago, now a square, fortress-like church with insets of larger-than-life stone sculptures and tile reliefs. One must always look up.

* The men who are selling their wares on the black market swiftly and efficiently pack up their things in one fell swoop when they hear the loud call of a polizia. Paolo (my father's friend working

at the main library in Florence) tells me that there are many people here illegally (one reason being so accessible to N.Africa), and therefor they feel free to do whatever, make whatever mistakes, steal whatever they may, since essentially they don't "exist".

* Tiramisu gelato is mouth watering. Moist chunks of sponge-cake soaked in espresso, mascarpone flavor, creme, espresso and cocoa flavored icecream swirled. ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh. pictures soon to come. my gelato melted and I couldn't get a photo :)

* Everyone here has a cell phone, or "telefonino"- 8 year olds as well as 60 year old women (who look, dress, talk and smoke like they're 30). Phone calls are incredibly brief- 5 minutes is considered a long time.

* I went to the bank by myself, as well as the infamous Questura (the Police Station where everyone coming into Italy must register to stay). I always begin witha  preface so that people don't get too frustrated with me, or so that I can cushion my fall if I trip over words. Here was part of my conversation at the bank. "Buon giorno (always say Good Morning). Mi dispiace, ma la mia italiana non e molto bene. Mo trovo parlare. Grazie. Voglio cambiare un piu di soldi, ma ho un conta/acconta? C'e il numero, qui..." TRANSLATION: Good day. I'm sorry, but my Italian is not very good. I try to speak. Thank you. I would like to change a bit of money, but I have an account. (the right word in italian??) Here is the number (as I show my paper). BRAVA a me!!!!!!!!!

When I try to speak, and if the person seems patient, I may even as them to repeat kindly, or ask if they know English (if it is something really important, I'm nervous, or I'm just exhausted). Generally, however, I have met people who are very appreciative of my broken Italian, and I generally understand 75-80% of what is being said...by whomever.

Oh yes. I stood in line this morning 2 hours for a form. An empty form. Monday, I may have to stand 2 hours in line again to present the filled-out form along with lots of documents to the Questura to ask for and prove the reasons for my stay in Italy. Ah....I just use this time as people watching.

* I forgot to tell you about the train experience when I first got here. My aunt, Zia Chiara, helped me lug 2 80 pound bags down 2 flights of stairs out their apartment in Rome. IN fact, my uncle Zio Marcello, put himself out physically and got those things down their marble steps and into a tiny car. At the train station, we arrived at 10:29 for a 10:30 train due to Roman traffic (there ARE no lines, order, and danger lurks every second of the day on the streets of Italy!!!! pelicoroso!!) Ok, anyway, Zia and I had to run to the train (she in high heals),  hoist the two bags UP the stairs onto the train, and then pass through 6 train compartments with these gargantuan bags. Mind you, Italians and other travellers are tired, groggy, and the bags are huge, bulky and insistently unbearable. While the train is moving, I am ahead of Zia Chiara, pulling my bag through narrow aisles, finally reaching our train cabin (well, we cheated, we supposedly had #9 and never made it that far) and plopping ourselves down into the only 2 empty seats on the train. The 4 young men around me with sun glasses on and not one smile. No way. Their outstretched knees and precious sneakers, tanned muscles. Who said Italian men were simpatico???? Five minutes after we arrive in Florence, I am at my apartment, right smack in the middle of Florence, where thousands of people would die to stay, in fact there they STOOD, with cameras, gelato melting through their fingers, cigaretts in their back pockets, glasses shading their wide eyes...and here I am.

 

Phrases I use often, and some words for you:

Oggi, ho caminato molto= Today, I walked a lot. (understatement)

Scusa, puoi autime?=Escuse me, can you help me?

Ieri sera, ho mangiato una pasta e bevutto un buon vino alla mia terrazza= Last night, I ate a pasta and drank a good wine on my terrace.

Buon giorno o Buona sera, sto cercando per...=Good day or Good evening, I'm looking for...

Che ora sonno?=What time is it?     

A che ora chiuso? E aperta?= At what time do you close? Open?

Scusa, per favore, dove sonno la chiesa di Santa Maria Novella?= Excuse me, please, but where is the church Santa Maria Novella?

posto=place   modulo=form    scherzo=joke    sporca=dirty    consiglio=advice   

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