Well, since this bipolar weather has given me an extra thirty minutes before I have to brave possible ice and Dallas' terrible drivers who faint at the sight of a snowflake and run their cars off the road, I decided to take advantage and update my poor little neglected blog. My goal in 2014 is to post twice a month, and obviously I am 0-for-2 so far, so we'll see if I can do better in March. Hold me accountable, readers of the internet!
It's hard to believe, as I sit in a suburb of Dallas, TX, that just five years ago at this time I was roaming around Europe. I believe it was about this time that I was in Rome, which is one of my favorite cities. There are many people who don't share my love of La Citta Eterna, but I love the mix of ancient history, recent history, and the modern. (It didn't hurt that we spent the evening with an entire Australian rugby team in a bar in Piazza del Fiore, either).
But I digress. When I first decided to study abroad in Italy, it was mainly because I didn't know when I'd have the chance to go to Europe again, and I didn't want to miss out. Florence was my city of choice because I could go to school without a two-year language requirement. I didn't think through who I would meet or befriend or where I would live or what I would do on the weekends... I just took a leap and figured it would all work out. This kind of behavior is very uncharacteristic for me, but in retrospect I'm so glad that I made the choice I did. Italy, for me, is not just that place I spent six months in college. Florence is my home, though not the home I was born into. Florence is the home I chose.
Three women I didn't know before we moved into a beautiful apartment hidden behind a tiny door that looked like it led to a broom closet became my surrogate sisters. I learned to love running down the Fiume d'Arno to La Cascine and back, or across the river and up the steep steps to Piazzale Michangelo. I wandered the Giardino di Boboli on sunny afternoons thanks to my awesome museum pass that let me into all the museums for free, ordered the most delicious sandwiches on earth from the hole-in-the-wall (literally) restaurant I Fratellini, spent my weekends jumping on trains and heading out on another adventure. The count of countries I've visited expanded exponentially that spring, each one leaving a mark on my heart. But Italy is special. From sunning on the beach, sipping limoncello, and a very expensive cab ride in Positano to hiking the cliffs of Cinque Terre with the man I would later marry, Italy is part of me, the best six months of my life. I feel it's only fitting that I should pay homage to that time, five years down the road when so much is different.
There are places that change you forever, and Florence will always be that for me. It's a thin place, a place where the sacred and the everyday collide on a regular basis. There were moments when I would walk down the street, breathe in the strange air and feel overwhelmed by how fortunate I was to exist in such a place. And it did change me. Without that time on the other side of the Atlantic, I wouldn't be a runner, I wouldn't be a vegetarian (ironically), I wouldn't be endlessly seeking ways to get myself back on a plane and back to the other side of the world. I will always be grateful for late nights walking home with friends, for the secret bakery it took us three months to find, the carousel in Piazza della Reppublica that we rode on one of our final nights, and the dance club at the park that didn't open until right before we left and was completely worth the wait. Italy is about food, so of course I'm thankful for membories of the balsamic vinegar at Il Gatto e La Volpe, the burrata at La Giostra, a beautiful lunch with great wine in the hillside of Tuscany. Once we took about an eight-mile walk (didn't know it was so far) up to the hills above Florence to see the city. My feet were sore, but my heart was happy as we saw the country spread out below us.
When you live somewhere, it's different than when you visit. Visiting means you have to rush around and see all the important stuff before you leave. But living in a place means you get to take your time, slow down, appreciate the ordinary pieces of how other people live their lives differently than you, the rhythm of their coming and going, pausing at the cafe for a cappuccino, bartering at the market. It's a whole different world, and you learn to be humble, learning, observing, asking questions and finding out that people really like sharing their culture and way of life with those who are willing to engage with them. Those months, days, hours are marked in my heart forever, and I'll always be searching for a way to bring that feeling back to my life.
Plus, I got a great leather jacket.
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