A Few Short Stories

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I have magic rain boots. They're grey suede boots with little tassels on top that I bought my first week in Florence. They have been waterproofed but in general shouldn't get wet. And it never fails: every time I wear them, it pours. This Thursday, it was perfectly sunny as I was getting ready to head to class, so out of the closet they came. Naturally, I walked out of class five hours later to find the sky dark and angry and everything dripping. The rain let up enough for me to cautiously tiptoe home, but the process inspired so much confidence in my puddle-hopping abilities that I decided to go to the post office across town to pick up a recently delivered package (mailed in February from the U.S. -- this is what I mean when I say I miss reliable postal systems!). The walk was about a mile in both directions, and wearing my grey boots was my first mistake. The second mistake was forgetting that my boots make it rain and therefore not bringing an umbrella. Needless to say, about halfway into the walk it begins to sprinkle and no sooner had I walked inside the post office than it started pouring. The postal people looked concerned when I didn't immediately leave and continued to stand there, awkwardly holding a big box and looking with fear out the window. A game of charades was then in order to explain that I wasn't about to leave until it let up a little. When it never did, I had to walk all the way home in the downpour with cars splashing me. By some stroke of luck, my boots weren't ruined, but lesson learned: Always carry an umbrella when wearing grey suede boots because you're asking for trouble.

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I have apparently become very good at looking like I know exactly what I am doing at all times because I was mistaken for a real Italian several times today. It's actually a really good feeling to know that I look like I belong. Italians can usually tell just by looking at someone whether or not they should speak English or Italian to them, and they're almost always right. But today, clerks behind ticket counters were giving me detailed instructions in Italian, several people on the street asked me for directions in Italian, and to top it off an American lady at the market asked me very slowly with extreme hand motions, "Are you waiting in this line here, HERE?" Naturally, I nodded and replied, "Si."

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I have discovered the reason why Italians wear sunglasses at all times. It's to avoid those dreaded accidental eye-contact situations on the street. Put on a pair of shades and it's like you put on an invisibility cloak. Without them, the art of looking straight ahead is a necessary skill. I also throughly enjoy watching true Italians walk along in the beautiful 60 degree weather in multiple layers of wool coats, thick scarves and puffy winter jackets. It must get dreadfully hot in the summer for this weather to still feel cold to them.

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Tourists are starting to overrun the place. I do not consider myself a tourist in any way, shape or form, as I actually own a set of keys to a Florentine apartment, attend a university in Florence and have legit places to be at any given moment. Large groups of tourists are continuously walking around with their mouths hanging open, stopping to take pictures every few feet and reading maps in the middle of the street. When walking anywhere these days, it is necessary to factor in about 15 minutes of tourist-dodging. It may sound like a fun game, but getting stuck behind 60 tourists with headphones, sneakers, baseball caps, all following the obnoxious orange umbrella and armed with crappy digital cameras on sidewalks where you can't go around or get through is SO annoying. (And I really love that I consider this MY CITY when this happens!)

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Cafes and bars (bars in Italy are actually coffee shops) still operate on the honor system. I'll walk up to the counter, order a cappuccino and then wander all over the store with my drink before going back to the counter to pay when I'm ready to go. The same goes with sandwich shops and pizzerias. You pay when you are done eating, and the owners simply trust that you will return to the counter with your money. I have never considered leaving without paying, even though I have noticed many instances where I could have easily gotten away with it. In America, this system would NEVER fly for exactly this reason.

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I love that I'm at a time in my life when I can say to myself, "Hmmmm. I think I'll go to Venice tomorrow." And then I do, which I did on Saturday. We arrived by train and then paid for the water taxi to ferry us around and it was amazing! The city is impossible to navigate on foot and it's absolutely necessary to get out on the canals when in Venice. We rode out to Murano Island -- which is where all the Venetian glass is made -- and we stopped to watch a glass-blowing demonstration. The guy made a beautiful vase with a swirling handle, and then a horse rearing up on its hind legs, all from blobs of orange goo. He made both of these in about 10 minutes total. We then spent the day wandering along the waterfront on mainland Venice, shopping for jewelry in the stores, chasing pigeons in San Marco Square, touring the Basilica de San Marco and taking hundreds of pictures, as usual. It was a gorgeous day, unlike my last trip to Venice, and it seemed like a different place in the sun.

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I've been inspired to start reading for pleasure again since I've been here. There's a lot of free time when you consider beautiful spring evenings by the river, train time and bus time, and friends who actually can recommend worthwhile titles. It's difficult at home to find the motivation or spare moments to read, but here I have to keep myself from buying a new book every other day. There are two tempting bookstores on my usual after-school-wandering routes, and I escape into them daily. This summer, you'll probably find me in Border's or in the library if I ever go missing.

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The first floor of my apartment building is a doctor's office. I've never seen the heavy wooden doors open until last week when I walked in from the street only to find a very ancient doctor with white hair in a tweed suit talking to a monk in a long grey habit, standing halfway outside his office and halfway in front of the stairs. I just smiled a little, squeezed past the monk onto the stairs and then silently shook with laughter all the way up to the fourth floor. What a strange scene! And no sign of life from the doctor's office has appeared since.

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I believe I have graduated several levels in my own personal Italian immersion process since I have been here. Total Immersion Step One: I came here knowing no Italian, not even how to count to ten. Now I can read almost anything you hand to me with very little comprehension but with excellent pronunciation. This is what happens when I am constantly listening to it being spoken around me all the time. Total Immersion Step Two: When I eavesdrop on someone's conversation on the phone or with another person, I can now distinguish strings of words and not just meaningless syllables. These are huge steps and I am extraordinarily proud of these language developments.

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There's a really, really good sandwich place right next to the school on Via del Giglio. I only go once a week, but I could eat that favorite sandwich of mine every single day. This sandwich shop is unusual because it's Subway style; you're allowed to write down five things you would like on your sandwich and then they assemble it for you on your choice of bread. I always order the flat ciabatta bread with ham, parma ham, salami, fresh mozzarella and thick slices of tomato. Oh, it's so good! My mouth is watering just thinking about it. And the store offers a discount to students, which is even better. Two of my friends from graphic design, Carolyn and Miriam, and I go there every Thursday for lunch, devour our sandwiches and cappuccini, then head across the street to the dollar store (yes they have those here) and get our 99-cent chocolate bars. Those are worth looking forward to as well, for they come in many varieties and I get a different one every week. My favorite of late is the one with a cappuccino filling. Other good ones include the solid chocolate, the one with real hazelnuts in it, and one with a creamy hazelnut filling. I do love my chocolate. 😊

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Today it was warm, sunny, in the 60s. I went for a long walk with my camera again and truly enjoyed myself. I'll never get tired of the scenery: the winding green river, the meandering stone streets, the sculpted bridges and warm palettes of color. Everyday I admire the typography in the windows and on the signs of various establishments. The streetlights are lanterns hung from twirls of wrought-iron. I love looking into open doors, expecting to see stairs or the beginnings of a room and instead peeking into a sunny courtyard with benches, graceful trees and bubbling marble fountains. Living in a postcard really is the most satisfying thing in the world.

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Photos

Dancing in Venice
When the mood strikes, you just gotta dance!

Gondoliers
I really like this picture, it could have been taken hundreds of years ago! I love finding those shots.

Bridge of Sighs
Legend has it that when prisoners were escorted into jail (on the right), walking over this bridge was their last glimpse of freedom. This is one of Venice's most famous landmarks.

Gondola
Too bad a ride in one of these can be as much as 80 euro! Check out the moss on the steps.

Feed the Birds
I love people watching, especially when all the people are feeding pigeons in San Marco Square!

Venetian Murano Glass
This was the vase the demonstrator made in 5 minutes flat.

Beautiful Spring Day
I am just loving this.... can you tell?

Sunset in Florence
This was up on the Piazzale Michelangelo, just another day in paradise. :)

Comments

[deleted_62353]

the last picture, of the sunset in florence, is absolutely amazing.

[Sally Eastland]

What an adventuress you are!!!
Hi Margaret, This is your cousin Sally from San Francisco and am I ever impressed with your clarity of writing so that I feel as if I am walking beside you as you tour Venice. I was in Italy in 1967 with my roomate "Sox", the year after we graduated from the Univ. of Ill. and we had wonderful experiences. Reading your comments transports me in time and space to a different era in my life. I especially was touched by your comments about the store where they trusted you to pay before leaving....once upon a time it WAS that way in the US....unfortunately, that gentle way is gone even in smallish towns like Moline. Your mom was kind to allow me to read your blog page. Enjoy your travels. I hope to be able to read more of them. Love, Sally