And back to the facts and artifacts.

From the time I last wrote you to January 28, 2010

Where to begin… its seems like centuries since I have last written. I’m not so good at the upkeep on this I see. Since we last spoke a few things have happened I’d say. As the winter portion of our program wrapped up the work kept pilling up never ceasing fury. Finally the end was in sight and Friday, December 18 rolled around and I was booked on a flight home to sunny Malibu, California, leaving the work (yeah right – the four 10 page papers and 2 books all in Italian all came with me) and bad weather behind. Well actually that’s what I thought until it started snowing, yes snowing, in Florence the night before my flight in both Florence and Pairs and therefore canceling all flights leaving through Florence through Paris for the following morning. I would try again the next day so Saturday morning bright and early at 4am I started my travels yet again in the snow, only to find at 6:30 am at the Florence airport that it was once again closed due to weather and we would have to be bussed to Pisa and try from there. Too bad the storm heard that and came along for the ride. 9 hours later we took of from Pisa to Paris (if you ever need suggestions of where to eat or sit in the Pisa airport gimme a holla). Unfortunately all flights to Los Angeles had already departed for the day, so I would have to stay in Paris for the night. At 10 am the Sunday morning I finally was on a flight to Los Angeles, that actually left the ground and 12 hours later landed in Los Angeles. It might have taken me three days to get there but I finally got home. Being home was very nice and relaxing but there was a weird thing going on around me all the time – everyone spoke English all the time. Everywhere. Kinda weird …just saying. After three(ish) weeks of California I bitter sweetly came back here to Florence (I know too bad for me right?)

           

The first the weeks of being back launched us into end of the semester crunch time. There was hardly a moment where I was not on my computer where Word was not open, my fingers not furiously typing out Botticelli, Italian folk music, fashion advertising campaigns, or a popular Italian book. 40 written pages later, 3 written exams and 2 oral exams finally I made it to the end of the semester, and alive somehow.

 Last Thursday, following the end of exams, Sera, Claire and I decided to celebrate and go explore the “ Vintage Selection”, the vintage part of the fashion weeks that have been happening all over the city recently. It took place in an old abandoned station, and most likely every vintage clothing store in Italy had a booth set up showcasing everything from retro Chanel bags, to planters made from children’s books, to sunglasses Elton John wished he had. It was hard to know where to begin, where to look next and how to take it all in, yet somehow we managed.

Sera and I then bought a pick-nick for ourselves to eat in Piazza Maria Novella and were promptly attacked by all of the pigeons that call Florence home. After lunch I headed out for a giro (walk/stroll) to kill some time before heading home by myself and ended up accidentally finding the Archeological Museum.  It was always on my long list of museums and things to see in the city, and had come strongly recommended (thanks Matthew!) but like most things I had not gotten around to it yet like most other things thanks to the obscene amount of work that we have had this past semester. I entered the museum only to find a surplus of hidden treasures in a building that seemed as if it was about to fall in on you at any second. Luckily for me it did not, and instead it lead me through a maze Roman treasures and Egyptian artifacts (yes that is a real mummy to the right, and if the picture was better you could see the actual bones), for the most part perfectly preserved. Being the only person in the museum I might have sneaked a few illegal photos of about everything, but without flash so not hurting anyone or anything right? 

time tricks

For a city that never sleeps especially on weekends, even on Saturday mornings people are bustling throughout the city. Dodging tourists and vespas alike, Lenora, Olivia and I made our way over to the Bargello Museum. Filled to the brim of its old monastic stone walls with statues, reliefs and other assorted stone work and small little trinkets, the courtyard alone is a marvel to look at. Entering into a large open courtyard lined with amazing statue work, it is truly breathtaking. The combination of the old stone fortress- like walls adorned with countless stone family crests lining the top portion, and monumental statues in the corridors is truly a sight. After taking a moment to collect myself and attempt to take at least one thing in we began to make our way slowly through the courtyard constantly in awe of what we saw. When I finally came across the room with Donatello's David I, once again, was struck with a sense of disbelief that a pice that I have been staring at in text books for years was in front of me. The only problem I have with seeing these statues in person is that I have an almost uncontrollable urge to reach out and touch them. I have an extreme desire to be a part of such a monumental and beautiful piece of art and of history. I want to try and feel what the artist was when they created such a work and try and understand how they accomplished such a thing. The desire is deeper even than this and is almost consuming yet so far so good.The rest of the museum continually fascinated me both with the statues it held and the architecture itself. The cube like structure and pathways in between gave a sense that it would go on forever. It indeed might - we were only able to make it through two of the floors before out feet and immense hunger got the best of us.

We spent the rest of the day people watching, talking and window shopping and before we knew it it was time to walk home for dinner even though it seemed like we had just ate lunch.

Florence on a Sunday is a completely different experience than 24 hours prior. Store windows locked up, noticeably fewer bicycles and vespas zipping around in the streets, the din of italian spoken in the streets is considerably softer, and the only consistent flow of people are the tourists. Wandering around the mostly quiet and closed city for the day I tried and failed several times to picture Los Angels as tran

quil as this on a Sunday.

I woke in disbelief Monday morning to the thought that this was our third week, and final week of orientation. On the one hand it feels as if I have been here for so much longer, on the other as if I have just arrived. Monday was a blurr of language classes and my final history of Florence class. The rest of the day past in a continual blurr of Italian words some I understood and some I am still trying to figure out what it meant.

Today came a little to soon again with the feeling as if some time god was playing a joke on me. Im still asking myself how it can only be Tuesday but already be Tuesday in our 3rd week. I think this is right about the time I was talking about a little while ago when time starts slipping away from me all of a sudden its weeks later and I am still thinking its 2002. Pondering these things I walked to language class which was at Giovanna's appartment. We reviewed our reading and prepared a little for our exam (?!) on Friday. Being at Giovanna's also meant that I got my dog fix for the day with her two toy poodles - Cocco and Sparky. It also meant we got to have our last cooking class with Pam.

Literally bittersweet because although we all were looking forward to today's lesson it also meant we would have to start taking real classes and not be able take such an amazing class for credit.

Today we made not one not two but four different types of amazing risotto. 1 with saffron, 1 with asparagus, 1 with zucchini, and 1 with mushrooms. I believe I could have eaten all four in entirety if there was some way to stretch my stomach to allow such a thing. They all were so amazing. As if that were not enough, we also made a chicken with a spicy mustard caper sauce, and patate fritte aka french fries. And to top it all of Panna Cotta. Every bit I took (and I assure you there were many) was quite possibly better than the last.

I do believe I am still full. Yet if any of it were set in front of me right now I would have no problem eating it. I think I will be dreaming of i cibi italiani tonight...

and this is only the beginning...

With sore blistered feet, twenty something bug bites, and a greater appreciation for the smell of leather, my first

week here, as incredible as it is to say, is over. Im still waiting for someone to come and pinch me or shake me awake from this dream. To think I get to be in one of the most beautiful, and exciting cities in the world for an entire year is overwhelmingly astonishing. Everywhere you look there is something different, distinctive, and

dazzling. The beauty is everywhere here from the crooked little alleyways, the alters on street corners, fruit and vegetable vendors stands,

(some of) the graffiti on the walls (note: I am not condoning graffiti on buildings just remarking that somehow Italians have found a way to not just do the standard tag graffiti over used in Los Angeles but have left their mark with some artistic feat I could only dream of producing) and so much more. Every step you take there is something new to discover, so dont be too jealous that I get to walk by the Duomo ever day on my way to school, it just happens to be the fastest route.

We started our week moving into our host family's house. I am living with a family of four, and one other girl, Claire, from Smith. The parents are named Lucia and Fillippo, and have two children a 13 year old boy, Vieri, and a 16 year old girl, Maria Chiara. They own a bicycle shop which is down the street from the apartment we are all living in ( yes it is one of those that has old stone on the outside, a huge wooden front door that is impossible to open, but once opened - after many failed attempts I might add - its a pretty modern two story apartment). So far they have been nothing but welcoming and overly nice. Im sure with time and getting to know one another, and once we are more well adjusted to each other and living together (not to mention my italian bit improved) it will become even better.

The first week of orientation was a blur of all things Italian. Cooking, art history, language, history, and conversation classes kept me busy and excited about each new thing. Learning about a city that has buildings older than my country and then actually being able to go and see them on the same day will never cease to amaze me. After learning and lusting after so many pieces of art, cathedrals, and worldly monuments for so long, to be able to see them in person, and not having to squint at a slightly off focus projector, fills me to the brim with happiness. The tastes and smells that fill the air of the Italian streets seep their way into my already full senses and will, Im sure, permanently remain there. Cheese, bread, salami, olive oil, gelato - will never be the same for me after this year, I can already tell even after only one week.

When in our cooking class, the sent of basil that filled the kitchen was so strong I most likely still smell like it, yet when combined with other things probably picked that morning was so discrete it made you wonder where it all went. Cooking in Italy is a truly sensory experience. With the recipe we received for the class there was not a single measurement or direction of what to do, only a list of the things we would be putting in each dish. Everything was done by memory, feel and taste. And yes it all tasted amazing. We made Pappa al Pompdoro, a soup like dish the main ingredients being bread and tomatoes, and vegetable broth, and let it become a nice thick consistency. Next, Panzella, a dish made with bread soaked in water, which you then squeeze out so it becomes a cous-cous like consistency, (see picture to the side for a Vanna White like demo-pic of Lenora and myself) then add vegetables and basil. After was Pollo in Friscassea, in which we covered the chicken in flour and cooked it in olive oil, later adding in the left over broth from the papa al pomodoro, an egg and basil of course. Lastly, we made Tiramisu (see picture).

Normally I do not like tiramisu, but when it is had made with hand- soaked biscotti in the liquore, and fresh mascarpone how could you not?

With our art history class we explored the San Miniato al Monte church which rests on top of a little hill overlooking the central part of Florence. While climbing the steep stone stairs, the eagle-toped church begins to appear followed by marbled facade and finally its arched doorways. It is yet another breathtaking church in Florence. Intricately laced and patterned marble floors fill the center nave of the church while colorful frescos of saints line the walls. In every detail truly breathtaking.

Wandering and exploring the city this past week have been filled with adventures. Finding new places to go to, restaurants, shops and everything in between there is never a dull moment. While leisurely wandering in the general direction of my house one afternoon, I came across the Duomo Museum hidden between tourist shops. You would never know from the outside that it opens up to a four storied building, filled to the brim with all of the original artwork and statues found in and on the Duomo. Most everything was in remarkably good condition for being place on the facade of the Duomo so many years ago. As I walked up the stairs I began to salivate as I saw Michaelangelo's Pietà. Originally intended for his own tomb, it depicts Michaelangelo himself as Nicodemus, one of the two men that took Jesus of the cross. It remains unfinished because he died before he was able to complete it and therefore was never placed on his tomb. I think i spent about 45 minutes alone just staring at this statue taking in its beauty. Unknowingly tears formed in my eyes, and in broken italian/english I tried to explain to this older German woman that indeed everything was alright, I was just overcome by the statue. I dont think she really understood me, or if she did why it was having this effect on me, but she was content enough that I was not going to have a melt down so she went on her way. The drastic contrast between the very defined figure on the right of the statue and the rougher statues on the right are incredible. To be able to see the midway process of how someone might get from a hunk of marble to something so incredible is fascinating to see.

After only a week I am already in complete love with this city, and can hardly wait for the coming weeks and moths to continue to discover more of the absolutely amazing place.