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Published: February 25th 2008
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Watching the Street Performers
This is a photo from my photography class, where we were assigned to shoot a street scene. The little boy just wanted to dance with the big kids! I've been told that the mentality of a college student studying abroad typically goes through four stages: honeymoon, crisis, acceptance and adaptation. As far as I can tell, the honeymoon stage is never going to wear off for me. It's been nearly a month since I took off from O'Hare and I have never stopped being in complete amazement of my surroundings and activities. It's astounding to me how casual day-to-day life can become though: "Oh I'll just meet you at the Duomo" and "I live just across the Ponte Vecchio" have become everyday phrases, something that would have blown my mind a month ago. However, while I am very comfortable and at home in Florence, entirely settled into my routine, I am determined not to let Italy become commonplace, and I haven't. I am still purposefully soaking in every moment and looking around in wonder even on my well-trodden walk to school. Every day I appreciate the saturation of the buildings against the bright blue sky even more. I love listening to the church bells chiming in the distance and taking deep breaths of the spring-smelling air. I have to keep reminding myself that I AM in Italy and this
Strolling the Ponte Vecchio
Another street scene. I like this one a lot. is NOT a beautiful dream, and I love living in that reality.
The only reason I haven't been posting much lately is simply because there is so much to tell! I feel like I have a novel's worth of interesting things to write about at the end of every day that I hardly know where to begin. Let's attempt a recap of this past week:
My classes are going swimmingly and I look forward to each one. We've started a new painting now, the second one. It's another plain still life that becomes something greater when put to canvas. In graphic design, we're working on designing icons for the five major departments of the Lorenzo de Medici art school: printmaking, painting, graphic design, photography and film. I've never really embraced the illustrative side of my graphic design major until now, and after three years of college I'm still discovering what I can do with the computer.
This past weekend, my friends and I stayed in Florence partly because we love it here and partly because several of us are gearing up for a weekend in Paris--three days and counting. I did a lot of shopping on Friday
Bonnie & me
Travel buddies! and have now acquired a light weight black trench coat (perfect for this wonderful 60 degree weather), several pairs of Murano glass earrings from the San Lorenzo market, a pair of European-style darkwash skinny-leg jeans and even "Il Gladiatore," the Italian version of "Gladiator" starring Russell Crowe. It's one of my favorite movies of all time and I've never bought it at home. I can watch it in English or Italian, so I plan on beefing up my Italian war vocabulary with a few regular viewings. I also bought "Il Piccolo Principe" -- "The Little Prince." I've heard a great way to learn a language is to tackle a book, and I read this one in French class (in French of course) during my senior year of high school. To have read the same book in three languages is a fantastic goal, and I plan on starting it soon over a hot cappuccino.
I made my first real Italian friend this weekend. His name is Fabio and he is one of the nicest guys I've met. He's very quiet and a little shy (just like the last Fabio from the train to Venice), and he just sits and smiles
Boboli Gardens
Acres of landscaped gardens in the middle of the city are a refreshing mix of statuary and nature -- it's nice to see some green! pleasantly most of the time. Part of that could be the language barrier but he is extremely friendly and laughs a lot. And he could totally be a model. Dark hair, light blue eyes, well dressed and beautiful. He's a geology student at an Italian university somewhere in the city, but he loves hanging out with American students. He came over and hung out with all of us at my friend's apartment Friday night, dressed to a tee while we were all in sweatpants. We asked him why Italians never wear sweatshirts or sweatpants, and he said they do around their apartments. Then he turns and motions to my friend Kim's red sweatshirt and bright blue sweatpants and says, "But THIS you never see on the streets." This of course was after she had run down the street in those clothes for some snacks from a nearby market, and we all got a big kick out of it.
He took us to a real Italian bar the next night, which was a wonderful change of pace from the loud American clubs we've been returning to because we never knew where else to go. I live for these authentic experiences,
Muted Ponte Vecchio
If I wanted to, I could take on Hunt Harris for top-notch Ponte Vecchio shots. ;) and this bar was fantastic. Very low key, jazzy music, well-dressed Italians sitting around sipping drinks and talking. The entire back wall of the place was a lit-up map of the world, and I was for the first time shocked to see how far away from home I am. We could have mingled and met people if we wanted to, which you can't do at a club because the music shakes the inside of your skull, but we had too much fun sharing each other's company. There were nine of us plus Fabio that night, and it was a blast. We'll be going back for sure. Fabio invited us to his soccer game sometime this week, so as long as it's not too far away, I sure don't want to miss it.
Yesterday I got my Uffizi pass, which will now allow me to get inside all the Florentine museums for free. It was truly Italian the way we had to go about getting the pass -- I had to go to the museum to make an appointment to come back to the museum to get the pass. They could have easily done it the first time I came. Ah, such is life in Italy. Convenience is not in their vocabulary.
With this magical pass, I found the Accadamia and finally saw the David yesterday. Especially as an art major, I have seen images of David my entire life, but nothing prepared me for seeing it in person. It's a lot bigger than I expected, even though I knew it would be big. He really looked as though he might leap off the pedestal at any moment and stroll through the gallery as a living, breathing man. The hands, the veins in the arm, the muscles in the chest -- all so lifelike and completely mesmerizing. I don't understand how someone can stare at a block of marble and see something three-dimensional. I only understand art in terms of adding; I put down more charcoal or apply more paint to get the image I want. With sculpture, it's entirely a matter of
taking away , and one small slip of the chisel means a ruined statue. As far as I'm concerned, I don't ever need to see another sculpture in my life when I have seen the best. It can't possibly get any better than David.
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