Something I really like: Skype

Recently, my dear cousin Dani gave a little shout out to Skype on her blog, and I thought I would give the company a little free advertising, too because I also love Skype.

Also, I am accepting new Skype contacts, so anyone who wants to hear the lovely lilt of my voice or see my shining countenance (because I have a webcam now, baby!) should look me up.

Last Sunday, I talked to my mom and watched her make an apple crisp. I really wish that the apple crisp could have been passed through the screen because it looked delizioso!

Skyping with the parentals, siblings, and niece-ling, is always great, but always makes me just a little more homesick when I am done. I can't wait until I can actually give them all big hugs! If only home and Italy were right next to each-other, or I knew how to control time or space!

a mosquito bit my face

See the large blemish on the right side of my face, below my eye? No, it is not a zit, but rather the work of one of the merciless mutant mosquitoes that inhabit Florence. The nights are freezing; we're getting into the thirties (high thirties, but still on the VERGE of freezing) and the soulless buggers continue to torment. However, talking about the mosquitoes in Florence is a nice ice-breaker conversation topic. Everyone has horror stories, and there is no better way to bond than uniting against a common enemy. At a fancy dinner we had to honor a visiting scholar--NYU is all about putting on the Ritz to impress guests--a professor from the University of Connecticut, Betty something-or-other, and I became fast-friends cursing mosquitoes and swapping advice on how to keep them at bay.

You know, I tried to rely on the power of karma to protect me from the bites of mosquitoes. Though they had done me wrong, I refrained from killing those I saw resting against the wall of my bedroom. I thought, if I don't kill their this creature, maybe the karmic gods will influence the entire species to leave me alone. (I also loathe dealing with mosquito carcasses, and killing them against the wall would lead do blood being spattered on my white wall, and it would probably be blood that came from my very own veins). But my pacifist ways were to no avail. The mosquitoes rebelled against the karmic gods, and have been more vicious since I consciously chose to spare their lives.

So, mosquitoes, we are now mortal foes, and while there may be some off-chance that you could infect me with malaria (which, lo, and behold!, is an ITALIAN word--meaning bad air, you know it was common in swampy areas where the air was well bad, and back then they didn't know it was transmitted by the most despicable life-form on earth) but with modern medicine on my side, that's no biggie; they'll be nothing to save you when I crush your hard exoskeleton against my book. (I'll even tolerate cleaning up the disgusting mess you leave behind...no one will get away with my blood without punishment...that goes for vampires too...okay, that last phrase was silly, but it was in good Halloween spirit!)

Italy Makes Me Lazy

I think I may have deluded myself into thinking I am on an extended vacay, rather than in an intensive program of study. But the mists of delusion are thinning as I realize all the things I have to do:

Prepare something to demonstrate that I have been making some progress towards writing some kind of thesis about something. (I threw out that I was going to write about women carving out a place for themselves in the Futurist movement, and study the literature from a feminist perspective, but I think I was just trying to be cool. Futurism is so in vogue this academic season.)

Study for midterms--that begin on Monday.

Write an 8-page paper detailing how I feel about my internship (Prof. Giannelli is going to be getting some extennnnnded descriptions--and being that the paper is in Italian there will be a lot of moltos and tantos.

You'd think with these matters on my scholastic plate, I might make an effort to chip away at some of the work, but no. I spent the evening streaming reruns of 30 Rock from sketchy internet sites (I would go through the legitimate channels of hulu or nbc, but because of weird international copyright laws, and the computer's uncanny ability to recognize that it is in Italy, I have to peruse the dark underbelly of the internet and sell my soul for 22 minutes of commercial-free entertainment).

But, for fear that you, dear reader, may think that I am slothful human being, I did visit the Museo Nazionale Alinari della Fotografia. They had a futurist photography exihibit and I learned about the history of photography and remembered how much I want to dabble more in that art form. Or become the subject of some iconic photo--like "elevator girl" or, well, actually all the other iconic photographs I can think about are really sad, like the girl crying over the body at Kent State...but I could be like "elevator girl."

I also went to class at UNIFI (the delightful shortening of Universita' di Firenze), where I spend an hour and a half (it would be two hours but the teacher always arrives 20 minutes late, as if the class were to start at 5:20) being humbled and scrambling to understand whatever bits I can. The oral exam should be interesting.

Anyway, I feel like I've done a little something by writing this. So, I guess I am not too lazy. And I shouldn't blame Italy for making me lazy...I should blame Tina Fey for making 30 Rock too dang entertaining.

More from your favorite American in Florence

So, hands-down Italy understands fruit. I mean, especially the sector I am inhabiting (Tuscany!) is notorious for its wine and vineyards, but I wouldn't know a good wine from grape juice gone bad. However, I do know I tasty juice when the sweet nectar touches my tongue. Peach Juice and Pear Juice, the kinds with the pulp included especially, are so amazingly satisfying. I almost think it is like drinking canned peaches or pears that have been blended, but that sounds sort of gross (not that I am not going to try it when I am in the United States) and this stuff is sooooo good. Oh, and a shout out to A.C.E.--a juice made of oranges, carrots and lemon, another fave. You'll notice that I am holding an empty juice bottle--because full ones don't usually last too long.
I'm sort of paranoid about my footwear. I feel it gives me away immediately as an American. Sometimes I swear I see people, usually gray-haired women look down at my feet with scornful eyes. And these running shoes aren't so bad (they are the ones that saw me through my marathon, so I have a sort of nostalgic attachment to them...I think if they can get me through 26.2 miles they can get me through a Master's program in Italy). If you want to talk bad shoes, i wear this pair of dirt-stained, foam, teal $6 Wal-mart flip-flops almost everyday (because sometimes it is just too hot to wear your lucky shoes). One of the flip=flops actually blew out on me today (but I managed a makeshift repair that enabled me to have protective covering for my left foot for the duration of my journey), so they are retiring and Italy is going to be seeing more of my well-worn Mizuno's (obscure brand, I know, but actually, the name kind of sounds Italian...). Pretty soon here I'll have to spring for some sensible, yet classy, Italian shoes.
I just thought I'd throw in a picture of the Campanile at sunset so you, dear reader, can have a little cultural stimulation instead of just hearing about juice, shoes and...
NUTELLA, or rather Esselunga's cheaper, but no-less-delicious, store-brand rip-off. I love this stuff. I was going to make crepes like an hour ago, but there was no gas for the stove, so I just took a spoon to this bad boy and ate a shameful amount (let's say it was around 250 grams). But, if the gas is ever working, I'm going to fire up the stove and eat me some crepes, and will whip out the fake nutella again.

And just a shout out to anybody who is reading this, I miss you like MAD! To the point of insanity! I love all my friends and family so much and stalk you via whatever electronic means are available to stalk you.

xoxox

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.