C's the one that let's me know when new Taylor Swift songs come out, and I'm the one that listens to them 1300 (you like that) times within the hour she texted.
So there's that for my own personal repetitive, obsessive, wait one more time listening pleasure. And so when I'm feeling extra dramatic I can sing the chorus out loud to myself as many times as I want to. While I sit on my teensy twin bed and eat bowls of Cheerios with peaches. Yes, multiple bowls, because the milk is so good here and the peaches so sweet and the Cheerios so familiar, and well, that's all you really want to eat when you find out he has a peach tree is his backyard, too.
Sunday
Livin On a Prayer
~another epic karaoke song experience~
-see so much art I wouldn't get to see otherwise because one of our professors took us EVERYWHERE as we followed behind like little ducklings. This woman knows everything- early/high renaissance expert is an extreme understatement. She has her PhD from Yale! She knows so much about every little thing, she doesn't even stop to breathe. It's mentally exhausting, but one of those things you just have to endure and appreciate, like that quote live as if you'll die today, learn as if you'll live forever. Definitely learned enough for forever.
About humanity, too. Some of the little anecdotes she told us about random Roman princesses reminded me so much of myself, I'd be like yea girl, I feel you, I'd steal the basket of bread from my dad's royal dinner party for me and my little brothers, too. Coulda been a -Roman- princesssss. We're really all the same, 1520 or 2012, royal or not.
By 6 pm, the last church was closing but our professor just talked her way into it like, "mmm, no...no you're actually not going to close yet" while we all scooted in. I don't even think she got permission, she just kept talking to the custodian until we were all in and then he couldn't do anything about it. Haha poor guy. Then off we went to explore one more cathedral.
Sometimes I would just look at a crucifix and think I might die if I had to hear about why in this one, he's wearing clothes. He, sorry. It's not like we went specifically to see all the religious stuff, it just happens to be that all the art in these ancient cities is religious. It's just what people were inspired by back then. Religion was life, literally. Someone must have started telling the bad people they'd go to this place called hell if they kept it up. It's a nice idea, really. Just wanting peace and love. Too bad politics got in the way of that one.
So anyway, I think it's important to see the human side of it all, not just the biblical side. But all in all, it was so worth it. I felt like we got a VIP tour of all the ancient treasures of these towns. Our professor also treated us all to local St. Zita cake at the end of the day, which was heavenly. Ha, that might be a cute pun if I didn't use that word to describe every meal I eat here.
About humanity, too. Some of the little anecdotes she told us about random Roman princesses reminded me so much of myself, I'd be like yea girl, I feel you, I'd steal the basket of bread from my dad's royal dinner party for me and my little brothers, too. Coulda been a -Roman- princesssss. We're really all the same, 1520 or 2012, royal or not.
By 6 pm, the last church was closing but our professor just talked her way into it like, "mmm, no...no you're actually not going to close yet" while we all scooted in. I don't even think she got permission, she just kept talking to the custodian until we were all in and then he couldn't do anything about it. Haha poor guy. Then off we went to explore one more cathedral.
Sometimes I would just look at a crucifix and think I might die if I had to hear about why in this one, he's wearing clothes. He, sorry. It's not like we went specifically to see all the religious stuff, it just happens to be that all the art in these ancient cities is religious. It's just what people were inspired by back then. Religion was life, literally. Someone must have started telling the bad people they'd go to this place called hell if they kept it up. It's a nice idea, really. Just wanting peace and love. Too bad politics got in the way of that one.
So anyway, I think it's important to see the human side of it all, not just the biblical side. But all in all, it was so worth it. I felt like we got a VIP tour of all the ancient treasures of these towns. Our professor also treated us all to local St. Zita cake at the end of the day, which was heavenly. Ha, that might be a cute pun if I didn't use that word to describe every meal I eat here.
Ok so that's mostly what I got from it. Along with a really good reason to go out last night. Which was being home finally, 14 hours later. Home! In Florence.
Convinced we belong here.
Convinced we belong here.
Friday
The apartment they sell at Urban Outfitters
You know, the one with quilt comforters and the sassy post-it notes on the fridge? And you make tea out of a tin kettle on the stove in the mornings while you have dirty conversations with your co-ed roommates? For all the times I've wished for that apartment, I think I have it now, without having any of it. It's worth every penny it doesn't cost. Cupboards filled with mismatched pint glasses and all. Taken home from bars. Accidentally.
And the Manchester Sound roommate bought a guitar, so.
And the Manchester Sound roommate bought a guitar, so.
Wednesday
"She played her favorite game, figuring out about people."
-A Tree Grows in Brooklyn
My Italian teacher giggles so much now that we got a boy in our class. I just smile and watch her like she's the cutest thing I've ever seen and sometimes I start laughing too. I like her so much and I've been trying to figure out why. I think it's because she reminds me of my mom. She's short and teeny and wears light pink shirts every day. She's very kind and patient with all of us, a bunch of twenty-something girls who just want to go have a glass of wine instead of trying to say "I am happy and tall" in some variation of Italian that sounds so bad she just makes this face and smiles, like oh god this is hopeless. I have a quiz tomorrow and she has the kind of voice that you can hear while you study. I know they say knowing one romance language helps you learn another, but I just want lungo to be longo and molto to be multo. So..idk maybe writing it in this post will make me remember. Thanks blog.
My fresco professor is Mario. Like I meant Super Mario, but yea his name is actually Mario too. He's old and wheezy but not in a sick way, in an old Italian man way and you can't really understand him sometimes but he can say "you know what I mean?" in perfect English, and does, every so often between mumbles of Italian. This morning I asked him what an article from the newspaper was about because the picture was so scary, and he just looked at me and walked away. And then 15 minutes later he came back and told me a 20-year-old woman was raped, but he didn't know in English "how to tell a lady." They don't make him like him no more.
My painting professor reminds me so much of my one at UNC because they're both so American, their Levi's and midwest accents make you want to go home and watch Casablanca with your wife. I don't have a wife but once I ran into my UNC painting professor at a thrift shop buying old romance movies on VHS, so I figured that's what he was going home to do. Anyway, they both teach the painting and drawing courses in a row so I was used to those same 6 hour afternoons before class even started.
Batik lady is just that. She's 65 with a relaxing, open-air, tropical studio tucked away off campus. She did her masters of a life-size VW bug she Batik'd, quilted and constructed with metal supports. She showed us her photo album of when she completed it and when VW casually bought it from her, but I was more struck by this young, glowing beauty in a sixty's dress to die for smiling, so proud of what she had done than her actual masterpiece. Age is so amazing.
My Illustration professor is a crazy college girl at heart. When she laughs you can tell she means it and then she keeps talking with the smile leftover from the laugh still on her face, so she always seems like she's having a great time. She tells us stories of when she went to work in NYC after she graduated college and it's so funny to hear the reverse experience of an Italian living in America. It's like you flip a shirt inside out and put it on backwards so it's basically the same thing, but opposite. I don't know where that metaphor was going. Maybe I'll illustrate it tomorrow.... But that's all for now, I just wanted to remember my professors before they grade me AHH
My Italian teacher giggles so much now that we got a boy in our class. I just smile and watch her like she's the cutest thing I've ever seen and sometimes I start laughing too. I like her so much and I've been trying to figure out why. I think it's because she reminds me of my mom. She's short and teeny and wears light pink shirts every day. She's very kind and patient with all of us, a bunch of twenty-something girls who just want to go have a glass of wine instead of trying to say "I am happy and tall" in some variation of Italian that sounds so bad she just makes this face and smiles, like oh god this is hopeless. I have a quiz tomorrow and she has the kind of voice that you can hear while you study. I know they say knowing one romance language helps you learn another, but I just want lungo to be longo and molto to be multo. So..idk maybe writing it in this post will make me remember. Thanks blog.
My fresco professor is Mario. Like I meant Super Mario, but yea his name is actually Mario too. He's old and wheezy but not in a sick way, in an old Italian man way and you can't really understand him sometimes but he can say "you know what I mean?" in perfect English, and does, every so often between mumbles of Italian. This morning I asked him what an article from the newspaper was about because the picture was so scary, and he just looked at me and walked away. And then 15 minutes later he came back and told me a 20-year-old woman was raped, but he didn't know in English "how to tell a lady." They don't make him like him no more.
My painting professor reminds me so much of my one at UNC because they're both so American, their Levi's and midwest accents make you want to go home and watch Casablanca with your wife. I don't have a wife but once I ran into my UNC painting professor at a thrift shop buying old romance movies on VHS, so I figured that's what he was going home to do. Anyway, they both teach the painting and drawing courses in a row so I was used to those same 6 hour afternoons before class even started.
Batik lady is just that. She's 65 with a relaxing, open-air, tropical studio tucked away off campus. She did her masters of a life-size VW bug she Batik'd, quilted and constructed with metal supports. She showed us her photo album of when she completed it and when VW casually bought it from her, but I was more struck by this young, glowing beauty in a sixty's dress to die for smiling, so proud of what she had done than her actual masterpiece. Age is so amazing.
My Illustration professor is a crazy college girl at heart. When she laughs you can tell she means it and then she keeps talking with the smile leftover from the laugh still on her face, so she always seems like she's having a great time. She tells us stories of when she went to work in NYC after she graduated college and it's so funny to hear the reverse experience of an Italian living in America. It's like you flip a shirt inside out and put it on backwards so it's basically the same thing, but opposite. I don't know where that metaphor was going. Maybe I'll illustrate it tomorrow.... But that's all for now, I just wanted to remember my professors before they grade me AHH
Sunday
The good, the bad and the awkward
The good
-The way our kitchen smells like butter at night when everyone's home making dinner.
-Discovering one of the roommate's band Manchester Sound. Dude can sing.
-New Gucci perfume. It's new and perfect and sexy and takes all of me not to spray myself down every morning and choke up the roommates.
-The restaurant we ate at in Cinque Terre. And the waiter who came over and whispered in my ear "you stole my heart." You stole mine, Pablo. Or Paolo. Couldn't really understand you.
-"Daddy Knows Best" videos at the kitchen table. That's all.
-The boy roommate who always does the dishes without ever saying anything about it. The girls in this apartment are usually too busy eating Nutella out of the jar anyways.
The bad
-the seat design of public transportation. They curve over at the headrest so your head is being forced down to your chest as if they want you to have bad posture and be highly uncomfortable for the ride and I don't know if it's just me who feels like I'm in a torture chamber sitting in them but they're awful. Just awful.
-Our tiny washing machine that washes like 2 pairs of jeans at a time. Also, everyone has to unplug their laptop chargers for it to work. Oh, the quirks..
-Craving ice water like a crazy person but Italians don't believe in ice.
The awkward
-When everyone comes over to pregame and one of the boys breaks a full bottle of Smirnoff on the ground..
-Roommates flirting with roommates having crushes on other roommates. This is the Real World.
-Using a drawing pencil sharpener to sharpen an eyeliner pencil and later having slight suspicions you'll have lead in your eye forever and go blind and die.
-Wanting a normal sized coffee I can sip on, so trying to order a "caffe lungo" and ending up with a regular shot of espresso in a huge mug. What? ~Apparently ordering a whole cup of coffee is an American thing. In Europe you either get a shot of espresso or a frothy cappuccino.. neither deliver the satisfaction of a medium DD iced coffee.~
-Facetiming in the bathroom because it's the best connection in the apartment without being in the kitchen where everyone else usually is. *someone walks by* *sup*
-Not understanding how to purchase produce at the grocery store and having to leave the register mid-checkout to go figure out how to weigh your bananas to get a sticker with a bar code. Yes, everything is written in Italian. Yes, there are 26 people in line behind you waiting.
Call it what you want, honeymoon's over. This is life in Firenze.
-The way our kitchen smells like butter at night when everyone's home making dinner.
-Discovering one of the roommate's band Manchester Sound. Dude can sing.
-New Gucci perfume. It's new and perfect and sexy and takes all of me not to spray myself down every morning and choke up the roommates.
-The restaurant we ate at in Cinque Terre. And the waiter who came over and whispered in my ear "you stole my heart." You stole mine, Pablo. Or Paolo. Couldn't really understand you.
-"Daddy Knows Best" videos at the kitchen table. That's all.
-The boy roommate who always does the dishes without ever saying anything about it. The girls in this apartment are usually too busy eating Nutella out of the jar anyways.
The bad
-the seat design of public transportation. They curve over at the head
-Our tiny washing machine that washes like 2 pairs of jeans at a time. Also, everyone has to unplug their laptop chargers for it to work. Oh, the quirks..
-Craving ice water like a crazy person but Italians don't believe in ice.
The awkward
-When everyone comes over to pregame and one of the boys breaks a full bottle of Smirnoff on the ground..
-Roommates flirting with roommates having crushes on other roommates. This is the Real World.
-Using a drawing pencil sharpener to sharpen an eyeliner pencil and later having slight suspicions you'll have lead in your eye forever and go blind and die.
-Wanting a normal sized coffee I can sip on, so trying to order a "caffe lungo" and ending up with a regular shot of espresso in a huge mug. What? ~Apparently ordering a whole cup of coffee is an American thing. In Europe you either get a shot of espresso or a frothy cappuccino.. neither deliver the satisfaction of a medium DD iced coffee.~
-Facetiming in the bathroom because it's the best connection in the apartment without being in the kitchen where everyone else usually is. *someone walks by* *sup*
-Not understanding how to purchase produce at the grocery store and having to leave the register mid-checkout to go figure out how to weigh your bananas to get a sticker with a bar code. Yes, everything is written in Italian. Yes, there are 26 people in line behind you waiting.
Call it what you want, honeymoon's over. This is life in Firenze.
Friday
"Art is not an intention, good work is an intention. Art happens when you're lucky."
I love it here [at SACI] and not just for my painting class in the garden or for my late afternoons at the Fuji studio, but I think mostly for the people. It's like everyone here wants the same thing. Not to make art but to find art in what we make. Not to travel, but to explore. To learn other people's passions and be inspired and share this love of life we all have. Being from a liberal arts school, I never got to experience this aspect of "art school." It's such a community. The people around you are like you without being anything like you.
And that doesn't even just translate to appreciating the David or complaining about expensive supplies. We go out together, we tell locations of hidden grocery stores that sell American brands, we make friends with store owners, we separate at times and find our own adventures but only to commune again to share stories of favorite bartenders or married Canadians or wonder about the missing kid no one's heard from since last night. It's never the place, it's the people.
We just finished our first full week of classes and this cool, sunny Friday afternoon has all our windows opened with a breeze dancing through the apartment........
I decided that since this post is already drowning in cheesiness, I'd add that last little part in. Basically, I like my classmates, and I'm high on Friday Happiness. That's not a drug, but it should be.
Ciao for now, you happy little weekenders.
Tuesday on a Friday
This was supposed to post on Tuesday but didn't and now I don't know what to do with it. So if you wanted to know about my Tuesday........
C and I used to joke about Tuesday being Taylor Swift's favorite day and so naturally it was ours too. Because of typical Tuesday nights? Or was it the Tuesday that you caught my eye.... Tuesday's must just be like the go-to day to talk about something normal. And here I am on a Tuesday, about to tell you that today was normal. The kind where you wake up and go to all your classes and do everything you needed to do in between. And then you get home and realize how hungry and fully exhausted and sleep-deprived you are and you feel grimy from your day and you're kind of mad about it because you just took a shower the night before but you're too hungry to take one now. So I just made some kebab I got from the market and cut up a tomato with mozzarella on the side, then I took a shower. So I'm good now, and I'm remembering again why Tuesdays are so good. And normal.
Monday
Amicizia con gli Italiani
How does that happen? I can't explain it- I wouldn't be able to anyways, we barely spoke a complete sentence the whole time. After a while, you're so confused trying to explain, you just give up. But laughing? Laughing we could understand. We laughed about everything.
Strangers are a funny thing, because they could actually be very dangerous. Or they could actually be very much like you. Especially if they're from halfway across the world and have never left Italy in their lives. It's a risk, and you have to be smart. But if I've learned anything about this short life, it's the risks that are always worth it.
Miei nuovi amici Italiani
Church
I have to write really quick about going into this church, because it was one of the most moving experiences of my life. We were hanging out at this palazzo one night, not doing too much and all of a sudden one of the guys tells us to follow them. Apparently these churches only open for certain periods of time certain days of the week, so if you want to see it you have to go when it's open and we just happened to be sitting there when it opened (and dressed appropriately). And this church isn't even a main attraction or a touristy spot, it's just like a church in the city. But oh, my. I walked in, looked up and around and the goosebumps came. I started tearing up and tried really hard not to cry. It was just so grand and beautiful and powerful. I'm not even really religious but I really knew God was in there because it was just so overwhelming. So I just wanted to say that I know these churches here are a big deal, but I guess I never really got it.
Saturday
Party in the USA
If there's one thing American students studying abroad should sing to a bar of drunk Italians and Australians, it's Miley Cyrus karaoke.
I am so tired and hot laying on my bed and my laptop is making my thighs sweat but I am too tired to turn the fan on. I'm finally at ground level with everything that I needed to do this weekend but not without the feeling like all my muscles are melting inside my body. So much walking and drinking all day here that it's like going to Disney World every day except to get home, you don't get to fall asleep on the air conditioned bus ride on the way, you have to walk.
Thursday night I had my wallet snatched out of my purse and don't forget that when these kinds of things happen to me, it's always right after I go to the ATM and decide 200 euros, my American license and a debit card are probably all good things to take out with me. But the next day we went to the bar at which I lost it to see if it was there and they hadn't opened yet but we ended up staying and talking to the English Italian bartender/manager for a while. We told him when all our college games were so he can stream them live for us. He also said if I come in for breakfast on Sunday he will cook me an omelet! Sometimes telling strangers how much you love eggs is good to do.
Ok so there's this little cafe/bar in our neighborhood called Eby's and the owner is the real-live Einstein you've always wanted to meet. He has a perfect white mustache and stonewashed white hair that looks like you just rubbed it with a balloon and all we've ever heard him say is MANGA when he gives you a shot. He makes all these concoctions you have no idea what you're drinking but no idea what your life was before you tasted it. The roommates shot has become "the banana smiley face" where there are these banana slices he sprinkles with cinnamon and this blue powder then blow torches each one. You dip one side of a thick orange wedge in coffee grounds, the other side in sugar, coffee side down eat the orange, take the shot, eat a banana slice, chase with a shot of this alcoholic smoothie. It's actually the most wonderful thing in the world. And that it's just down the street- I'm seriously never leaving.
I am so tired and hot laying on my bed and my laptop is making my thighs sweat but I am too tired to turn the fan on. I'm finally at ground level with everything that I needed to do this weekend but not without the feeling like all my muscles are melting inside my body. So much walking and drinking all day here that it's like going to Disney World every day except to get home, you don't get to fall asleep on the air conditioned bus ride on the way, you have to walk.
Thursday night I had my wallet snatched out of my purse and don't forget that when these kinds of things happen to me, it's always right after I go to the ATM and decide 200 euros, my American license and a debit card are probably all good things to take out with me. But the next day we went to the bar at which I lost it to see if it was there and they hadn't opened yet but we ended up staying and talking to the English Italian bartender/manager for a while. We told him when all our college games were so he can stream them live for us. He also said if I come in for breakfast on Sunday he will cook me an omelet! Sometimes telling strangers how much you love eggs is good to do.
Thursday
Something I've noticed here
No one is ever on their phones. I only notice because it's so different from the US, where you walk down the street and everyone is looking down at their phones, but actually it's like how would I even know because I usually am too. But here, it's like cell phones don't exist. You see so many more faces this way.
Wednesday
Girl you know you're lost, lost in the thrill of it all
The European thing where people close up shop in the afternoon and just leave work to go home to eat/sleep/make love until 8 or so is real, and I love these 3 quiet hours I get to myself in the evenings. I'll just pick up where I left off telling you about this place so far. I'll write about like 10 things to keep it short and sweet. Like hazelnut gelato.
1. Our front door. It's enormous and gorgeous and heavy and basically everything I ever wanted in a front door.
2. Our precious 3rd floor 3 bedroom 3 bath apartment with kitchen and sitting room right by the duomo.
3. Turning into Belle when opening the windows in our apartment because they're enormous and open like shutters and you actually have to thrust them open and lean out and wave at the people walking below on the street. There's also a Cinderella clothesline outside the kitchen window and a Snow White well in the foyer. It's fit for a princess and screams home and I'm considering moving in here for good.
4. Eat pizza yum dank delicious shit
5. Rep USA with the roommates (even though one's from Canada) in a beer pong tournament last night at this bar down the street. The boys played and we girls contributed celeb shots and a strong team image as the only blondes in the place.
6. See Jase face himself, too exciting for words, shag to house music because we're the only two people here that get it about Carolina.
7. Attend the garden party SACI had for us on the first day in the garden at the school. My school is cooler than yours. But really, it is.
8. See Pi Beta Phi t-shirt hung up on a wall in a bar, not sure for what but pretty sure it was one of those moments that you're speechless and you want to tell everyone around you like look guys look!! but no one else around you really cares too much.
9. Walk around the city for hours half lost out of our minds/half not caring. I've started just singing "now you're lost..." to myself to pass the time until I stumble upon Via Bufalini.
10. The rooftop bar we found in the middle of the city called the Biblioteca. Because inside it's actually a library with books that you check out. We're gonna be smart bitches.
11. My new trendy polizia friends whose uniform pants are light blue skinnies.
That's 11. It's perfect here.
Tuesday
Ciao Ciao!
Is what I've been hearing all day. And also probably the most appropriate title for this first post abroad. So ciao ciao from Firenze!
The most exciting things I've done, which may or may not be exciting to you, and may or may not be everything I've done:
1. Land in Pisa because of a storm in Florence at the time we landed. Picture mobs of strangers and hot heat and 15 students who have no idea where they are or what they're doing trying to come to some understanding with the bus ticket man asking for a ride to Florence and not wanting to pay for it. 45 minutes and 5 euros each later we're on an hour and half bus ride into home base city.
2.
and now my 2 boy roommates just came in with out first bottle of Italian wine so
finish this later CIAO
The most exciting things I've done, which may or may not be exciting to you, and may or may not be everything I've done:
1. Land in Pisa because of a storm in Florence at the time we landed. Picture mobs of strangers and hot heat and 15 students who have no idea where they are or what they're doing trying to come to some understanding with the bus ticket man asking for a ride to Florence and not wanting to pay for it. 45 minutes and 5 euros each later we're on an hour and half bus ride into home base city.
2.
and now my 2 boy roommates just came in with out first bottle of Italian wine so
finish this later CIAO
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