The Bane of Beauty

I've put off this entry because it seemed somewhat self-absorbed. I mean to say, "I'm too pretty for my own good" is more than a little conceited.

But do you know how much free coffee I could be getting?

I have a lot of men stop me and ask if they can buy me a coffee. Once when I was in the city center I had this friendly looking man who wasn't elderly, but was definitely older than my father stop me. I thought he was simply asking for directions because his first words were, "Sei da Firenze?" Are you from Florence? I said, "No, but I live here, maybe I can help you." But he didn't need help, he just wanted to take me to get some coffee. I was busy going about my other tasks, so I rejected him.

And that was just one experience. Just last night there was a guy on the street who asked me out to dinner. He'd known me for maybe about 2 seconds before his proposed date. I wasn't too keen on going out with strangers, so I let him down.

I don't know if it is something about my comportment that makes me obviously foreign (American students do have a reputation), or if Italians are just more of the go-getter type and talking to someone is no prerequisite for a little coffee-date. The first few times getting hit on so frequently was a real self-confidence builder. Especially for this girl, but now fending off interested men has become a chore.

Ciao, bella is not as endearing as it once was. Depending on the inflection, I would translate it as, "Hey baby," especially when it is accompanied by kissing sounds. Some of these would-be boyfriends go about wooing the girl on the street in a nicer way. They use the more formal "Buongiorno" or "Buonasera bella," and don't harass you when you don't respond.

It is tough being this beautiful.

Patti Smith, I think I love you.

So, before I march off to my Community Service in Italian, I have to rehash the amazingness which was the conversation with Patti Smith held in the Limonaia of the Villa La Pietra.

She performed a few songs for us. Including the one that Randi was recently obsessed with--the one with the line, "She is sublimation." And she sang "People have the power." Oh, so good.

But being that it was a conversation, Patti mainly just talked as spurred on by student questions. She talked about enthusiasm and her favorite line from that book The Alchemist that the "the universe conspired to help the shepherd because of his enthusiasm." And talked about all that it takes to be a sincere Christian is to obey Christ's "eleventh" commandment--"love one another." She talked about Christianity being just that simple. People get too caught up in the esoteric and in the power games forget that Christ's message was point-blank.

We couldn't let her go without bring up questions of political activism and she said she learned a very important lesson from Ralph Nader, "When you fight corruption and the institution, you have to be prepared to lose." But Patti went on that this doesn't mean you become all cynical and throw yourself prostrate to the system. You just be a little thorn and hopefully you can make the system bleed. And maybe if enough of us are little thorns, it will bleed out.

But she went on to say that she isn't an activist. She's just a citizen. And she wishes she didn't have to waste her immagination writing songs about Guantanamo and bombings in Lebanon, but sometimes you just have to.

Patti Smith, you're awesome.

Laundry: Italian Style

100 % cotton? no worries. this stuff isn't shrinking.

but i may need to get the iron out.

A night out with Laura and Fabio

here's a picture of Coquinarius

Last Thursday, my night-life loving roommate decided to take me out. She has this friend, Fabio, who has a car, so all of Tuscany was within our grasp. While the evening was still young, we ventured to Chianti--which is not a city but a province--where life was tranquil and there was nothing to do. Except taste wine. Fabio and Laura each got a glass, which they assured me was mediocre. Thn Laura began to insist that only 50% of the wine was made from San Genovese grapes (those specific to the vineyards of Chianti) while Fabio insisted that there was no way Chianti wine would be less than 70% San Genovese, and the argument persisted the entire night.

After being unimpressed with Chianti we ventured back to Florence blasting music all the way. We listened to a little Bob Dylan, Hendrix, and Battisti--the Italian Bob Dylan. Anytime the words to songs were known we were obliged to sing along.

So, as dusk was just beginning to settle, it was too early to turn in. Thus, we went bowling. The venue was called "Crazy Bowling" which shows the sport is not indigenous to Italy. Further, all the balls' weights were expressed in pounds which suggested that all of the bowling balls were imported. Now those would cost a fistful of Euros to ship! I managed to outscore Laura, but Fabio beat us all.

After our game of "crazy bowling" we wandered a few meters over to the billiards where we played a few games of 2-on-1 pool. And I was abysmal. I said, 'Ho un billiardo alla casa mia! Ma non sono brava!' And I lived up to my word. I think in two games, I only hit one ball in. At least I never scratched though.

Then the pinacle of the evening, dinner. The three of us went to the restaurant where Laura works as a waitress, Coquinarius. Fabio and Laura downed two bottles of wine (although Laura did insist in pouring glasses for her two co-workers on shift). And we ate the most delicious antipasti including prosciutto stuffed with different things, and bread with brie, honey, and almonds. Oh, and stuffed zucchini! Mmmm. For the main course, on Laura's suggestion I ordered raviolini with pear and cheese. Yes, pear. I was worried that I would detest the flavor combination, but it was sooooooooooo gooooooooooood! I was too full to try any dessert, but Fabbio and Laura insisted I taste theirs. Interestingly, Fabio also insisted that the Americans at the table over try a bite of his dessert. They were slightly abashed, but gave in to the opportunity to eat a bit of chocolate cake.

Laura and Fabio then commenced to talk with a French couple sitting across the aisle from our table--in French. I thought of counting to ten or saying 'je suis une jolle fille' just to hop in the conversation, but refrained.

Now it was midnight, and while Laura and Fabio had no intention of turning in, I was spent. So I was brought home where I slept quite well after a busy day.

Note that the post before this occurred the same day!

What I did today. And before 2, at that.

I visited the church Dante attended. The very one in which he first saw his great inspiration--Beatrice. It was a cozy little church. And by that I mean small. Very small.
I got stuck in the rain. I am now donning a very frizzy ponytail.

I took a picture of Firenze from the upper levels of the Palazzo Pitti.

I took a picture of the outside of the Palazzo Pitti; I'm not sure of its historical significance--However, I think Napoleon Bonaparte had it renovated as one of his residences after he took over Italy in the late-18th early-19th century.

It was huge! And loaded with amazing art. I had gone for the futurist exhibit "Gianna Futurista" but also wandered the halls jam-packed with Renaissance art including a few Boticellis and Raffaels. Amazing.

And the best part is I have a special "amici" card so I can go for free as often as I desire.

Catch-22

I always meant to finish that book, but have not gotten around to it as of yet.

Nevertheless, while I may not be facing the Catch-22 of a World War II fighter pilot, I have my own dilemma:

I can close the balcony door and drown in a pool of my own sweat,

or

I can leave the door wide open and be eaten alive by florentine mosquitoes.

Right now, I'm opting for leaving the door open. While the mosquito bites will surely be driving me mad by morning, I'm hot now. And the breeze is so nice. I could write a love letter to it.

l'appartamento mio

This is the ingresso/entrance. That is a futon, potential visitors.
This is the kitchen. Complete with a microwave and a washing machine.

Here's cooking with gas in the kitchen.

This is the bathroom, equipped with a bidet.

This is the giant balcony connecting to my bedroom.

This is where I sleep.