Home

I'm home. :)

And it is blissful.

I am officially patriotic. The list of things I missed and of which I am now indescribably appreciative keeps getting longer and longer. I'll give you that list after I describe my getting-home process.

The day before my flight, it snowed. In Florence. For the first time in 3 years, 10 years, 18 years, depending on who you ask. In any case we were told it would not snow. Or get colder than the low 40s. FALSE. That morning I went to the Uffizi Library with two other Smith girls to begin research for my art history paper. Despite a hilariously awkward and drawn-out signing-up procedure with this old man who was trying to speak English to me because he thought my Italian sucked (not untrue), the library was unbelievable. And I found books that were ENTIRELY devoted to my painting. Ideal, yo. And the coolest part was that you had to turn one of those heavy old-fashioned keys to pull back this elaborate towering wooden gate to access the books. Soo Harry Potter right now. We researched until 1, then stopped for lunch in a restaurant where I accidentally ordered SQUID. Don't get me wrong, I like calamari as much as the next guy, but this was not little breaded rings of deliciousness--it was slimy tentacles and the sauce was very very mediocre so it was totally not worth forcing down. After that we went to a different library (that's two more libraries than I had been to all year) where we stopped in a cafe and lamented about the inhumane amount of work we have to do over break (don't even get me started. The professors are trying to make us take them so seriously it's almost comical. And it's not like they don't know the other work we have because THEY ALL INTIMATELY KNOW ONE ANOTHER. And everything's in Italian so it takes twice as long. Oops I got started...). Then Camilla came and we left to do some Christmas shopping. After we left the store where I got my sister's present there were big fat flakes falling from the sky (aka snow) and I would have been all enchanted and stuff if I didn't have my flight to worry about.

Then we got ingredients for the tiramisu we had been planning to make the entire year since we first learned how to make it during Orientation. And we ACTUALLY FINALLY MADE IT. By hand. Literally we whipped the egg whites and egg yolks by hand and grated the chocolate with a thimble-sized grater (the lack of kitchen appliances here indicative of our host mom's lack of cooking skills). Was it worth it? ABSO-FREAKIN-LUTELY. It was the second best tiramisu I'd ever had in my life (first being the one our cooking teacher made during Orientation) if I do say so myself. And the family loved it too. That was our Christmas present to them.

That night I tried (er, I had Camilla try) to call a taxi to take me to the airport the next day. What a SILLY idea. All three lines gave us a few disconcerting beeps and then disconnected. Every single one of the 800 times we tried. Mildly infuriating. So we decided to try in the morning. Same thing. FINALLY Camilla got put on hold (HOPE!!) and just as she was about to hang up because it was probably costing a ton of money, someone ANSWERED! And informed her that they could either send a taxi "now or never." Ah, the customer service caliber in this country is unparalleled. We waited and the taxi obviously never showed up. (I'm not even gonna drag out the story because it's just so TYPICAL). So we transferred to a street where taxis sometimes go by. Or else the bus that goes to the station. 5 minutes and we dropped that idea and decided to go try by the railway station instead. No taxis, but the bus came, praise Allah, so we ran to get on that. It took us to the station where there turned out to be a taxi queue. A lengthy one but at least there was a fairly steady stream of taxis. So Camilla waited with me until I finally got a taxi of my own. And then, I was on my own. I had never flown by myself before so I was pretty nervous. Luckily I had the entire Fairfield University returning from their semester abroad in Florence to accompany me. After waiting in uncertainty, my flight ended up being delayed by only one hour, which is a MIRACLE when you consider all the other flights that were canceled or the people that had to be bussed to different airports in Italy or gahhh I was so lucky. This gave me time to purchase a 7.50 euro piece of pizza, soda, and acid bath aka "fruit cup." Throughout the journey there were returning college students DAPPERTUTTO (everywhere). I made sure to keep the ones going to Boston in sight to reassure myself that I was going to the right places. Because our flight to Zurich was delayed we had to SPRINT to make our connecting flight. I was surprisingly not stressed because I had that group of 20 or so girls from other schools with me and, as it turned out, about 50 passengers were missing so they had no choice but to hold our flight (um THANK YOU). The flight was smooth. I watched Julie & Julia and ate a meal that was better than most of the meals I had had with my host family in Italy. And I was sitting next to one of the college students and she turned out to be very nice. The only bad part was that we were in literally the last row of seats in the plane. I was about 5 inches from the toilets. And had absolutely no access to a view out any window. Oh and then there was that terrifying part where someone asked if there was a doctor on board over the speakers and about 2 minutes later flight attendants were carrying an unconscious girl down the aisle. Ahhh! But other than that, my luggage came, my dad picked me up, and everything has been perfect since.

Here's that list:

1) Ok well obviously I have to put my family, and friends, first. And my dog who I missed so so much and seemed especially big to me after having been around a cat all the time.
2) Effective indoor heating
3) My cozy room. The rug on the floor. When I got into bed the first night I felt like a queen.
4) Soft toilet paper
5) Normal-sized washcloths and big fluffy towels
6) Premium water pressure
7) A shower in which there is space for movement and in which you do not have to do a squat-thrust if you drop the soap and in which you do not have to worry about flooding the bathroom or getting cold when the curtain brushes aside. Related to this, my hair feels fantastic. Something about the water.
8) Being able to eat breakfast in my pajamas and being able to walk around the house in socks/bare feet without having to worry about getting frostbite
9) Real orange juice with pulp (not some HI-C imitation brand)
10) PANCAKES WITH SYRUP (my dad made blueberry pancakes the first morning!)
11) My nice pink phone (ok if you could SEE my hilarious dinosaur/cell phone prototype that I use in Italy you would understand) and being able to text my friends here
12) Christmas decorations inside and outside houses, Christmas tree
13) Hot apple cider. Also root beer
14) Food. Real, filling food.
15) Speedy internet
16) High-definition, high-quality TV (this one I realize makes me seem a little spoiled but really there's something about the Italian TV that makes every movement the characters in movies or shows make seem fake, animated, distorted somehow. Also their shows, even commercials, are just not as good on any level. Here, this is a snippet from the game show that's on every single night: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3S7EoZUERdE)
17) Being able to drive a car again is kind of nice
18) And on that note: wide open winding roads, drivers that obey the rules of the road
19) Cheerful customer service employees. The woman working the tollbooth we passed through leaving the airport was friendlier than the vast majority of the customer service employees I had to interact with in Italy
20) PANDORA RADIO
21) Washing machine that actually leaves your clothes smelling nice. And a DRIER.
22) Here, the mosquitoes are dead like they should be. They are not immortal and infinite, they do not buzz in your ear the second before you're about to fall asleep in the dead of winter. They do not bite you, they do not irritate you beyond human comprehension, they are good and DEAD.
23) No cigarette smoke--whether faint or overpowering--to breathe in.
24) Beautiful piano
25) Home. Just the feeling of being home.

THE CLIMB

I hate to name this post after a Miley Cyrus song but really it's the most appropriate title I could think of. Ahem. Hello ye faithful readers. Some significant things have transpired in my life as of late. I shall begin with Friday. We had to get up at the crack of dawn (ok, like 7:10) for a very special and much-anticipated occasion: going to the police headquarters of Florence to get fingerprinted! I didn't really understand all the logistics but it had something to do with the fact that we now won't get kicked out of Italy anytime soon. It was gross and rainy and windy and cold that morning. But we were motivated by sheer excitement! Naaaaht. There was molto traffico so the bus wasn't coming and we had one of those wonderful moments in which we had to decide within the next negative two minutes if we should wait for the bus to show or start walking. We started walking. We were late, but we found the place. When I say "we found" anything, just insert "we" with "Camilla" because I have the sense of direction of a rock and therefore completely and utterly rely on her at all times. It's bad. Anyhow we were all prepared for the worst because Italy is notorious for being heinously disorganized and ridiculous in all aspects of everything. But everything went smoothly and it didn't end up taking more than 2 hours! (apparently the year before it took EIGHT). I suppose I could have been proactive and diligent and all that stuff and gone to my internship at the library but my boss was already under the impression that I wasn't coming (let it be known that I did not TELL her I wasn't coming. I described the interference and she said, 'So you're not coming then'--wow but it sounded way nicer in Italian--and I tried to continue telling her that I just didn't know how long the whole thing would take but before long not going at all started to sound nice so I just let her think what she thought) so I decided instead to go home. For lunch I got Chinese food and the nice woman there called me "Rossina" (little red). I nearly perished on the 1 minute walk back because it was so cold and windy and rainy and godforsaken. That night we went to the ballet! We were late again and I made a very very bad decision in wearing heels. The whole thing was a Christmas present from Giovanna and Monica :). The ballet was an abbreviated version of Carmen and much to my delight I recognized one of the songs because we played it in orchestra in high school. And I recognized all the others because they're extremely famous. Overall I preferred the music. The dancing, from what I could devise, was not all that impressive. I thought the Boston Ballet could have done a much better job, but my sister would have been a better judge of that. It ended and Camilla and I were all ready to go but a curious thing happened: nobody moved. Ever. APPARENTLY there was an intermission and then a second act! Even though Carmen had just died. The second act turned out to be an opera (or, as our host mom rather briskly corrected us, an OPERETTA) called Il Campanello by Donizetti (I had to Google it later). I thought it was MUCH better than the ballet. It was funny and cheerful and I think I was smiling throughout. Afterwords the whole group of us went on an epic quest for food (it was epic for me because my shoes were trying to murder me and I prevailed). We found a little snack place in the middle of bar/club central where about 534890 youngsters were loitering. I tried to order a sandwich and the dimwit girl behind the counter just looked at me as if she was trying to use her brain for the very first time. We hadn't had dinner because we had to leave for the ballet by 7:40 and by then it was maybe midnight so I was FAMISHED. I ended up succeeding in ordering a piece of pizza. By then it was the coldest it had ever been in Florence so 7 of us decided to split a taxi home. Best decision ever.
On Saturday I expected my legs/feet would be screaming in pain, but they miraculously weren't. So I made sure they would be the next day. Allow me to explain. Camilla and I took the train to Cortona. Allow me to be more specific. We took the train to CAMUCIA. Cortona is the next town over. Although the word "next" seems slightly misleading. As we pulled into the station we were granted a sprawling view of Cortona--all the white sunshiney houses and ancient Etruscan palaces and walls distributed among a dark green hill in the far off distance, like a model. We laughed and said "Well I guess we'll be needing to take a bus." There seemed to be a bus station right outside the station but we couldn't figure out where to buy tickets, and the schedule seemed to indicate that we had just missed a bus and would have to wait quite a while for the next one. We decided to start walking, figuring we'd find another stop along the way. Also food. Umm, we found neither. We stopped to ask people in some arts-n-craftz store but they proved useless. We continued walking. Always up a slight incline, always. Always there were outstretching roads leading endlessly towards where? Cortona? WELL WE HOPED. I ate a clementine on the way. That clementine probably saved my life. That and the magnificent views that helped us forget our exhaustion and hunger. I couldn't describe them. Just green and trees and horizon and blue and clouds and buildings just as ancient and natural as the nature around them. When I realized there were no sidewalks and not another human being in sight for miles, I realized there was a REASON for that. People don't usually walk from Camuica to Cortona. Probably haven't since Etruscan times. The streets never ever flattened out. I was thirsty, I was hungry, I was exhausted, but what else was there to do but keep walking? Camilla said she would have considered hitch-hiking. But then there were no more cars. Just us and slopes. I think I foresaw my death. Not to be melodramatic or anything. haha. Honestly though it was a nightmare. Not even the heavenly views could distract me anymore from the SHEER RAW DESIRE TO REST AND BE FED. I'm truly surprised I didn't at least faint. We stopped to sit on some wall of someone's beautiful driveway until a pick-up truck pulled in. I had the last sip of Camilla's water. Around winding bends there were more winding bends and bending winds and inclines and hills and slopes and steepness and I can't comprehend even now what was keeping me going. We began seeing a dog here, a person there, which gave me hope. And then finally. And I mean finally. We reached a fairly level clearing that included a semblance of a parking lot. With a sign that had a map with a label that read "Cortona." And a great stone gate leading into the city. I was deliriously relieved. The first restaurant we saw we entered. I literally couldn't move or speak until the food came. It was the most delicious bruschetta of my life--fresh tomatoes, olive oil, pine nuts and pepper. I felt like a man who hadn't eaten in 3 days. Then we were still hungry (obviously) so we ordered something else that may have been the most delicious thing I have ever eaten in my life: warm fresh bread with melted cheese and truffle sauce and olive oil and pepper. I could have eaten 15 of them. Holy JESUS. Then we were literally refueled and had enough energy to conquer the giant hill that is Cortona. There were beautiful churches and sweet cute dogs and stunning views. At one point we saw two little old women slowly creeping arm in arm down the giant hill that is Cortona and then we wondered how the HELL CAN ANYONE OVER THE AGE OF 65 LIVE THERE. Then we cracked up imagining that they must be built like pro wrestlers under their shawls. As it happened, we were growing nearer and nearer to the top of Cortona, to that church that I had seen a few hours ago as if from a telescope down at ground 0. There was a service going on when we got there but we poked our heads in and it looked spectacular. The winding road kept going so we kept following. By that point the sun was starting to set. A man had stopped his car to set up his tripod and take pictures of the expanse of Tuscany lying below us. We kept going. There was a fortress. The road turned into a dirt path and we followed it to a perfect hill that had three massive stones with inscriptions from another time. It was the top of the world and we could see everything. It was the most explicit metaphor for accomplishment that I could imagine, let alone experience. Looking out into the mountains whose boundaries blurred and faded in the extreme distance that they were at, at the pinks and purples of the sky, I felt like I could have fallen into infinity, consumed by beauty. Or something. I doubt I'll ever forget it.
When we finally tore ourselves away we found the ONE FLAT AREA OF CORTONA. Where obviously all the stores are. So we got gelato. On the way back we asked people at a gas station if they knew where a bus station was. They knew. We found it. And the bus came. And we didn't have tickets but that wasn't a problem. It was warm and comfortable and fast-moving and bus-like and it was BLISS. Especially realizing then exactly how far we had walked. It was at least a 7 minute bus ride! We calculated the distance that night. It was 2 miles. I don't know if that's impressive or not because I don't do physical activity but maybe you can understand from this post that it was.

Thanksgiving

Ello everybody! Happy Thanksgiving / Buon Ringraziamento one day late! (how ironic that Italians actually have a word for it) Boy oh boy was yesterday some sort of roller coaster of zee emotions. So. To my great delight I had to go to the sede (the Smith center, pronounced say-day, not seed) early to make up the oral portion of the art history exam I missed when I was sick :). I had gotten less than 5 hours of sleep the night before. I was nervous out of my SKULL. When the professor had finally set up the slide of the painting I had to talk about, I was pleased to say that I knew what it was, who painted it, the date (to the exact year thank you very much) and its significance more or less. What I didn't know is that she would be asking me about the nature of Raphael's commissions and to compare it to other paintings by him and others that I could barely remember let alone talk about without seeing them. Apparently I did NOT take enough notes in class. But it's not like I didn't KNOW stuff. It's just that the combined pressure of being confined in a chair about 5 centimeters from a professor who is judging you (and whose lip liner is distracting and who I cannot help but compare to Jennifer Coolidge), while having to speak in Italian and just the general fact that if I know somebody is waiting for me to answer my brain literally goes blank and only produces such helpful thoughts as "I NEED TO THINK OF SOMETHING SHE'S WAITING SHE'S WAITING THINK OF SOMETHING SHE'S WAITING"......that makes me a wee bit nervous. She concluded by saying "It seems you have a bit of a difficulty speaking, combined with fear. You should try to connect your thoughts more smoothly, especially for the university exam." I said "K THANKS!" and skipped out the room with a grin from ear to ear.
And then I got to see this same professor for the next 2 hours straight while we had our class. At first not even the stunning masterpieces of the Uffizi could cheer me up. When the words "I just need a hug" came into my mind, I was then reminded that if I were in America I would be receiving many many hugs from all my family members. And then it became even harder to contain tears. Oh and I forgot something hilarious. Before we entered the Uffizi the professor all of a sudden asked, "Who has their presentation in the Uffizi today?" I'm pretty sure we all misunderstood her at first. At least I thought she was asking who was writing their final paper on a painting that is in the Uffizi (we didn't have a choice in the matter, a few weeks ago we were just kind of randomly distributed low-quality black and white photo copies of paintings and apparently the one we got was to be our final paper topic). Anyways the girls whose paintings are in the Uffizi (myself included) raised their hands. To make a long story short, it turned out we had been expected to GIVE A PRESENTATION IN THE UFFIZI. When we arrived in front of our painting. That very day. Not a single one of us had even the FAINTEST notion that we had to do anything REMOTELY like this. And so we exchanged looks of bemusement and shock and the professor scolded us for not having read the syllabus while we all silently scolded her for not having uttered a syllable of this before that day. A great kick-off to the class.
But yeah I eventually forgot about my misery because I grew bored and hungry (as usual) and tired. And instead of sadness I felt extreme irritation. For the past 3 weeks I've been thinking "man this week sucked. Luckily there will be less work next week!" Lies. And now I am just DROWNING in it. Luckily I was able to make up my 2 exams (uhh...we'll see how I did) and midterms are done. It was really great (at this point you can probably already tell I'm going to be sarcastic) because the day after I took my Fashion/Costume exam, the professor told us she was giving them back. But not just that--she was going to give them back to us one by one, individually, privately, to discuss our errors, with the door closed. So I waited around in sheer and utter terror for about a half hour while she called every girl in except me. To make a long story short, she hadn't gotten to my exam yet. But hey, I appreciated the unnecessary anxiety. No but I was cheered up soon afterwards when I HAD A REAL. AMERICAN. SANDWICH. OF REAL. AMERICAN. PROPORTIONS. Me and two of the other Smith girls (who are subscribed to my blog! shout-out to Breana and Sera, haha) went to an American diner! It was SO delicious and exactly what I needed. We got vanilla cokes. They came about halfway through our meal so I was dehydrated and very eager to take a sip. Of pure liquid vanilla sugar. Yeah I didn't realize you had to add the Coke first.
RETURNING TO THANKSGIVING! After the Uffizi I ate lunch in the sede and hung around until three other Smith girls announced they were going to the university class that I had found last week (SUCCESS!!! my fifth attempt but SUCCESS!!) and I decided to go with them. We left an hour early because it was extremely boring and there was a couple that was getting rather intimate and Christine was making me crack up and it was just absurd all in all. Then I went home. A few hours later I changed and Camilla and I made our way to Giovanna's apartment for Thanksgiving :). It was absolutely the best meal I've had in Italy, possibly my LIFE. I can't even begin to describe how amazing the feeling of being full was in that moment. My stomach had visibly expanded by the end of the night. It's something that hasn't happened in far too long. I'm beginning to realize the food we have with our host family is just....not.....great. I'm often hungry. I was looking forward to this meal with GIDDINESS. And rightly so. There was: the best cornbread of my life (usually I don't even like cornbread), pumpkin/squash (it's the same word in Italian) soup, potato puree, amazingly tender turkey with gravy, cranberries, CRANBERRY SAUCE (cranberries are virtually nonexistant in Italy so I was SO happy and surprised when Giovanna brought out the cranberry jellies...they are my favorite), green beans with cashews, corn, yummy stuffing, and some garlicy squashy salady thing that was as amazing as everything else. Oh and pumpkin and apple pies with homemade whipped cream. I think I was actually high I was so happy. There was tons of laughing and picture taking and Giovanna's husband played the fiddle and we all sang. Oh and all the professors were invited. I didn't even care that I had to see the art history professor yet again. Well ok maybe a little when I had to sit next to her buuuut I'm not one to damper the Thanksgiving mood. All in all it was a 100% perfect Italian substitute. And when I got home I had a hilariously wonderful skype chat with my whole family in America. So by the end of the day I didn't feel so sad. :)

Ammalata

It would seem as though I am sick. It's 3:45 and I'm lying in bed in my pajamas still with a headache and stuffy nose and cough and exhaustion. I'm just surprised it took me until now. Props to my brave little immune system for sticking it out so long. I think every single one of the Smith girls was sick during the past few weeks, including both Giovanna and Monica. Sitting in an enclosed classroom with the germs constantly spewing and circulating in the air....it was BOUND to happen. On Monday towards the end of Fashion I started to feel unbearably weak and faint and dizzy. I had to lie down on the couch while Giovanna and Monica and some of the Smith girls tended to me. At least the Fashion professor saw me so she could be certain I wasn't skipping her class on Wednesday. Yes, I missed school on Wednesday. I decided that given my state the best thing to do would probably not be walking a half hour to the center to take a long and stressful exam. In any case I wouldn't have done my best work on it if I had. Same goes for today. I am slightly less congested but I decided against going to my (yes, second) huge stressful art history exam because my work quality would probably not have been up to par. Monica and Giovanna have been amazing, of course, calling to check on me twice each yesterday and twice so far today. My host mom even sent me a text from work and their housekeeper gave me some weird fizzy fever-reducer tablets or something. And Camilla brought me the beeeest wonton soup, exactly as I was craving. And Lord knows there is nothing remotely like that to eat in this house. Basically it's been a pretty awful week and the next one doesn't look like it'll get much better because now I have to worry about making up the 2 exams in addition to a ton of other work. :( Italy's charms are absent right now. SIIIIIGHH. Back to sleep

Daaaze

Also sort of like "days." Because I am so creative it hurts. I am back with something that is definitely worth writing about. It occurred this very day! Alright. So one of the things that I think we're supposed to do here besides take classes is get an internship or volunteer position or something of the like. And of course the amazing Giovanna and Monica help us figure out what we want, search for our perfect match, and arrange the entire thing. I had told Giovanna that I would probably want to work in a museum or gallery, which is what I did this summer in Boston and is literally the only thing I can picture myself doing. She ended up finding an internship that a girl who (funnily enough) lived with our host family last year had. Cataloging old sheet music and books in the Biblioteca Nazionale. Just, you know. She told me she'd tell me when she heard from them. I skipped merrily along my way out of her office and then many weeks passed and nothing had happened. Not that I was PINING for it to begin...but it was slightly weird. And then yesterday I happened to see Monica in passing and she just casually mentioned that I would be meeting with the internship people with Giovanna the next day (today) at 2. Now I couldn't go to my (FREAKIN' FOURTH TRY) University of Florence class, which would have been perfect. Oh well I think I've put up with enough frustration from that silly university so really nothing else can push me over the edge because I am already over the edge. I am rappelling the cliff. Still need to find a permanent class though...hum dee dum. I digress. So today Giovanna popped her head into the classroom and told me to meet in her office at 1:30 so we could go. I found myself with about 10 minutes to get lunch after class and before the meeting, so me and Camilla hastily purchased disgusting salty sandwiches. When I came back Giovanna was talking in her office. I did not want to interrupt. Until 1:45 when finally the professor left her office and I awkwardly entered. Giovanna saw me and she bolted to get her things and we walked slash sprinted to the library. We got lost so she stopped to ask at a hotel. We had walked RIGHT past it. It was kind of hard to miss. haha I'm glad to know someone else has just as poor a sense of direction as I do. We entered with about 2 seconds to spare. Giovanna chatted with the friendly security dude at the desk. I think he thought I was her daughter or something? Because we both have red hair? Maybe? Because Giovanna said "non, non e la mia!" (no she's not mine) and laughed. Then the woman who I guess will be my boss appeared. She was very small with a cartoon-ish voice and big red glasses and was very nice. She seemed to be kind of gushing over me. She said I looked like a "true Bostonian"....I don't really know what that means but let me tell you I have never felt so cool to be from Boston in my LIFE. You tell Italians you're from Boston and they think of a magical far off land home to the Red Sox and Celtics (er at least this guy at a discoteca on Friday seemed to have this impression...) Then the woman brought us to the music room, which was very small and library-y, with about 3 people studying. She introduced me to a man whose name I do not remember but it's ok. He thought my name was "Elisa" and Giovanna clarified ("Ah-lee-zone"). Throughout the whole encounter Giovanna kept nudging me forward, physically encouraging me to get closer and see everything first. Then the woman (oops I forget her name too) took out some keys and showed us to the room where my OWN SPECIAL PROJECT is located. The room is named after Luigi Dallapiccola, a composer. It was small and we were all quite close together. She told me the history of it but I promptly forgot. Still I could not help but smile when she revealed a PIANO! That was hidden under a tarp. That (I think?) Luigi Dallapiccola himself played. The piano had the date "1900" carved in gold. She let me play a note. The sound quality wasn't great (when oh when will I find a nice piano) but the piano itself was obviously incredibly special. She said I could play it. When she left the room Giovanna said that I had to christen the room and play something, make sure it was in tune. So I played the notes of a chord. When the woman came back in she said "not today" and it was slightly embarrassing but whatever. haha. So all these scores haven't been cataloged and this is what she wants me to begin. Kind of like a once in a lifetime opportunity I would say. Then she gave us a tour of the library. At one point she opened a door and we were outside overlooking a square courtyard with arches designed by Michelotto (I think?) and it was so typically Italian and Renaissance-y and stunning. Giovanna decided to take pictures of me, one with the woman [oh by the way she also randomly took one of me signing papers...]. She said she knew we didn't like it when she took our pictures but in 10 years we would think they were precious. When we left and had hardly taken 3 steps out the door Giovanna grabbed my arm and said in English "isn't this fantastic??" Proof that 1) For people who know English and another language, English is the language that allows you to express yourself so much more easily and precisely. I often think of this when I am frustrated with Italian. 2) Giovanna is one of the most amazingly supportive and amazingly amazing people I have ever met, and 3) I am going to be working to catalogue never-before-catalogued old sheet music and books in the Biblioteca Nazionale di Firenze. How is my life real.

Paradiso

Greetings earthlings. Once again I find myself procrastinating...and, of course, wanting to update all y'all on mah life. I don't really know where to start. Maybe with the fact that I am not cold anymore because sunshiney weather has returned :). Hopefully it will stay. I don't care that it's almost November and it's probably not healthy, earthwise. The highlight of my days since my first post was probably that my mom and grandma came to visit for the week. They bestowed many gifts upon me, including wIcKed cUte Italian boots and yummy meals :). They came on our class trip to Pienza and San Gimignano on Saturday. I was kind of hesitant at first because I didn't want to be the tool who brought her mom (and grandma) but then my friend from back home reminded me that this is my year to do whatever the crap I want and I shouldn't care what other people think. And I think everyone else in the program was/is missing their moms anyway so they appreciated the presence of mine. Pienza and San Gimignano are two tiny towns that are apparently only reachable by bus. So we took a comfy spacious coach bus. And it was incredible. The views on the way there--and I mean every single view awaiting you every single time you glanced out the window--were almost unreal they were so amazing. Infinite green hills with those characteristic Cyprus trees perfectly aligned, whether intentionally or by chance either seemed possible, plentiful clouds that seemed taken from a painting, with sunlight perfectly streaming through just where you'd want it to, ancient stones and yellow leaves. And then when your eye wandered back inside the bus even the red curtains for each window seemed beautiful. Obviously the towns did not disappoint once we had to get off the bus. We had lunch in this charming little tavern and ate pecorino, sheep's cheese, which Pienza is famous for. And Giovanna and Monica gave us all more later on :). San Gimignano is a medieval town with medieval towers and more breathtaking views. Camilla and I ran into Giovanna at one point, right after we had joyously riden a see-saw that Jesus Christ probably made and placed right there atop a hill with another spectacular view of the countryside. She told us where to go to get a great view (because we hadn't had quite enough of those.) So we found and climbed a little ancient tower and got an elevated view of Italy for miles. At that point I said "ok just stop it." I came to a point where I eased up on my excessive picture taking because I realized literally anywhere you clicked and pointed would create a beautiful image. If you took a picture of dog crap it would be stunning in that town. So yes, it was a lovely day. I spent most of yesterday with my mom and grandma. We had lunch at another touristy cafe and didn't get THAT ripped off this time! And then we had dinner (my grandma got chicken with sauce on the side--thank GOD she got it on the side--that was made with roughly 15 cloves of garlic. The tiramisu was really good though) and saw La Boheme in a small church. We were in the front row and the singers/actors were literally 5 inches from our faces at some points. "CAN YOU HEAR OKAY?" "TOO BAD WE CAN'T SEE THEIR FACES". It was a good time. No it actually was. Even though the end is sad (she dies.) so when I had to say goodbye to them it was even more depressing. But I think this country has healing powers. Either that or I'm in extreme denial and all of a sudden one of these days I'll just break down. I have moments where I'll be lying in bed, in my bed, in Florence, Italy, trying to conjure familiar images of my own room in Winchester, Massachusetts, trying to feel like I'm there, and I will suddenly think "what the @#$% am I doing." I've met people who tell me they could never do this. And that makes me feel brave, because almost everyone I know is braver than me. I just hope I'm brave enough to go to my CLASS AT THE UNIVERSITY OF FLORENCE. FOR THE FIRST TIME. TOMORROW. ANDI HAVE NO IDEA WHERE IT IS. AND NOBODY IS GOING WITH ME. What the @#$% am I doing...

Il primo post-o

Voila! (perhaps it would be more fitting to start with an Italian word rather than a French one. Eh, the moment has passed). I have created a blog. In actuality I already had a blog (a xanga) but I did not want to continue adding on to that one because it's about 6 years old and therefore it is chock full of angsty embarrassing posts from my teenage years. Ha! Whadaya know, I can look back on my "teenage years" now. Anyways I guess that means I want this one to be less embarrassing, because I want to share it with more people. Already I know this won't work out that well because I have realized that awkward follows me everywhere. Even in Italy, which is where I am now, living in Florence for my junior year abroad. Ironically there is no word for "awkward" in Italian. And apparently Italians also don't have an equivalent for "oops." I guess everyone is just that well put-together. Hah. I shall provide you with an example of how I cannot escape awkwardness, to kick things off.
So there's this market that Giovanna and Monica (the incredible directors of the Smith program) told us about one of the first days so we could know where to get lunch supplies if we so desired. One fine day (it was 80 and sunny with birds a-chirping every single day up until last week when suddenly it became the Arctic Tundra) Camilla (my dear housemate) and I decided to go to said market because we were craving fine produce. The market is very cute and Italian and overflowing with every type of colorful fruit and vegetable you could name. I wanted a Valencia orange. A simple task. I picked one and waited awkwardly until the man behind the mounds of fruit realized I wanted to buy it. I gave him the orange. He gave me a plastic bag, which I guess I should have done beforehand. I put the orange in the bag. He reached over and pointed at something and I was confused. After some awkward seconds I realized he wanted the bag, so I gave him the bag. He weighed the orange and said "20 cents." I fished around in my wallet while he helped another customer and bustled around...Then he showed me a 20 cent coin. I thought this was his way of saying "I've got you covered" so I very slowly and hesitantly walked away. Awkardly. And then I heard him calling "cara" (dear) and "20 cents!" for the whole market to hear. So Camilla gave me 20 cents because I hadn't managed to find one stinking 20 cent coin among the several thousand in my wallet. I handed it to a woman behind the same counter who looked more sympathetic to my stupidity, said "scusa," and walked away. Yay!
There, now that that's out of the way I swear to you and myself that I will not embarrass myself in this blog. I will write nice things about the nice things I am doing in Italy. Nice things like, for instance, how THE HEAT. HAS FINALLY. TURNED ON!!!!! For those of you who don't know, Italy (and maybe most of Europe) doesn't turn on indoor heating for a good long time. Maybe never. Since the temperature plummeted last week I have been excruciatingly cold in my room. You can feel the cold air seeping through your pants. Every object in my room is cold to the touch. I am constantly sitting on my feet and stuffing my hands under my sleeves. Last night I was wearing 4 layers, 2 pairs of socks and slippers, a hat, and a scarf. And a blanket and a tablecloth. At my desk. I truly felt close to death. And not all that motivated to read 22 pages in Italian with size 3 font. When I came to dinner in a jacket one night our host mother's friend (or maybe more....? tehehe) said "there are penguins in Allison's room." I said "si." I know how to say things like "yes" and "I like" and "I don't like" and "good!" and "thanks." At least these are the things that don't take me 5 minutes to construct in my head before I say them and so for now I mostly just stick to them. Anyways, once you get under the covers it's not as unbearably freezing, but you can still feel the icy air on your nose or wherever else the blankets don't protect. Getting out of bed to take a shower was TORTUROUS this morning. So perhaps now you understand that when Camilla informed me just now that the heat was on in the bathroom, and I consequently checked my own heater by placing a hand on it and felt WARMTH....I was euphoric. I'm not even wearing a blanket right now :).
I admit one of the reasons I created this blog was because I am seriously procrastinating. I have to read for two classes, History of Fashion (pretty sweet) and Stilistica (stylistics?). I'm also taking art history and survey of Italian literature. This week we all had to meet with Giovanna to discuss what class we'd like to audit at the University of Florence. Ahhhh. I might take a music class just because they never freaking fit into my schedule at Smith and my piano teacher would be proud. Did I mention my host family has a piano and that's one of the reasons why Giovanna placed me with them? No I didn't. But yes the piano is awkwardly located in the boys' bedroom so I feel extremely hesitant about going in and playing. Also clearly everyone in the apartment can hear me. The boys are 11 year old twins, Matteo and Lorenzo. They are adorable. But not when they are yelling at each other and their mom in the morning when I am trying to sleep and conserve my body's natural healthy internal temperature. They like Michael Jackson. Donata (the mom) admitted to being in mourning for 3 weeks after he died. They also like "Barbie Girl," which Matteo was playing on his phone this morning. I didn't have the heart (or Italian skills) to tell him what the song is about. Alright I really should do homework now but I promise another post in the near future. Arrivederci!