Monday, August 24, 2009

La Vita è Buona

So I’m sitting in the hotel bar, drinking prosecco…I hope that came off as pretentious as I was going for. Anyways, the first entry is often the longest because I have way too much time on my hands right now.

4 cities, 3 planes, and almost 17 hours later, I arrived in Florence yesterday afternoon around 3. Some quick highlights:
1) I got virtually no sleep on the trans-Atlantic flight from Chicago to Zurich because of the endearing, yet baffling non-English speaking babushka sitting next to me who found it necessary to poke me every so often and non-verbally ask frantic questions about various things on the plane. Yes babushka, this is the remote. Yes babushka, I do have my seatbelt on. Yes babushka, I will open your packet of cheese for you since your weird old hands can’t.
2) Ran into Hayden Panettiere at baggage claim. No big deal. Went up to her and asked, “Are you Hayden Panettiere?”, quickly realized I had nothing more to say, and so once she confirmed I smoothly ended our conversation with a “Cool” and decided she was a bitch. Good to know my awkwardness isn’t specific to one country.

Il Duomo

Anyway, I got to the hotel, took a much-needed shower, dicked around the room re-organizing my things and whatnot, and then passed-the-fuck-out for like 9 hours. So today marked my first full day in Florence, or I guess should appropriately say Firenze, and it did not let me down. I took the bus from my hotel to downtown Firenze, a 15-minute drive. With no real plan in mind, I decided I’d head for the obvious and eventually found myself within il Duomo, engulfed in a sea of fannypacks and shutterflashes. It was absolutely gorgeous but I tired of the crowd and realized I’d undoubtedly return soon, so I headed out with no sense of direction and began wandering the cobblestone streets in the almost unbearable heat. I decided to try and find where my apartment will be, but inevitably got lost and thought it better to get some gelato. I attempted to place my order in Italian, and didn’t fail too horribly, but once asked further questions I had nothing to offer but a dumbstruck face.

So off I go again, eating my gelato, dripping it on my pants, the usual. By this point, I’m heading in what I’m pretty sure is the right direction towards my future apartment, so I’ve got a swing in my step and am feeling good. I slow down my New York pace and enjoy watching the people the pass me by, tourists and Florentines alike. I silently laugh at the man in front of me, dressed in a tailored white button-down shirt, white belt, white shoes, and tight, bright yellow pants. I continue walking until I hear a question directed at me in Italian. Why, it’s banana-pants Magoo! I’m again dumbstruck and tell him I don’t speak Italian, so he begins talking to me in English. Those of you who know me well know that I am easily skeeved out by guys, so though I was polite, I continued walking hoping he’d soon go his own separate way. But no, and turns out he is pretty normal and sane.

Sitting on Ponte Santa Trinita, overlooking the Fiume Arno

Audience, meet Stefano Sabini. Real estate lawyer specializing in re-finished wine estates. Works independently, consults a large Tuscan contracting company. I spent nearly 3 hours of my day with Stefano. He first took me to a delicious little hole-in-the wall restaurant where we drank red wine, ate fig tarts, pecorino cheese with honey, and—HOLY SHIT GUYS—melon and figs with prosciutto, salty Italian ham. That’s right, I ate pig. And it wasn’t all bad. But I don’t know if I’d order it for myself anytime soon, but how great to try new things. We spoke about the EU, the economy, our respective cultures and specifically, romance in each culture. After insisting on paying for said meal, Stefano acted as my own personal tour guide and took me around Florence to appreciate the beauty off the beaten track. Around 4, he had to get back to work and I, though glad to have met him, was ready for some alone time. I crossed the Fiume Arno and sat in a piazza writing and reading. Stefano and I exchanged e-mail addresses and I do hope that we hang out again. I am not interested in him romantically but I do think he is an alright guy who’d make a great (and valuable) friend in this foreign city. During our next encounter, though, I’ll probably bring along an extra body just to get a second opinion. But seriously guys, he is normal. I know a few of you are worried. STOP.

View from my hotel room

On Ponte Vecchio, photo courtesy of the Spanish couple

Anyway, my day ended with a long and lovely walk across Ponte Vecchio (where I got to use my Spanish and ask a gay couple from Bar-the-lona to take my picture—huzzah!) and then a dinner of prosecco, artichokes (mmmm), and ravioli with walnut cream sauce at an outdoor restaurant on the Piazza del Mercato Centrale. Back to the hotel, take a bath, soon find out I don’t really like baths, and now here I am. Tomorrow I leave for La Pietra, NYU’s flamboyant Florentine campus. La vita è buona—life is good.

Ciao,
Nami

2 comments:

  1. You are a charming foreign movie. GO TO HELL WHERE YOU BELONG

    mi amor

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  2. LOVE the pictures! Take some of FOOD. I am drooling at the descriptions, even the prosciutto. We'll totes be the new meat sisters when I come to visit.
    - Suuslu

    ReplyDelete