Photos! and Notte Bianca

Finding myself in the streets of Florence

Backlogged on photos. Here's the BC Reunion, Roma.

Giardino di Boboli in Florence.

When I shave each morning, I turn on the radio. The stations usually alternate between English and Italian songs. It was a cloudy day when a bouncy, upbeat Italian pop song came on. I slipped and nicked myself, right on my adam's apple.

Italy has been eliminated from the World Cup. It happened on the jovial feast day of San Giovanni, Florence's 4th of July. "Each one of us knows, deep down, that Italy will lose," said Luca in his well thought-out English. "But during the game, everyone will be absolutely convinced that they will win." Well.

Some character sketches. There's one other coed roommate couple in this program, Beth and Ashley. Ashley's a Canadian guy, over-aware that 95% of all people with his name are girls. He watches football, not soccer, and enjoys the little things. Like killing mosquitoes. Beth is a professor, also 28. She has a quiet first impression but has been to Pamplona for the Running of the Bulls.

She told me that story while we stood in a crowd, tangled in a mess of parked bicycles along the Arno. With thousands of Florentines and expats we watched the red, blue and green fireworks sail skyward from Piazza Michelangelo.

The next day Beth and Ashley hosted a dinner party. We drank a wine called "Red Viper" (I think Ashley picked it out because it looked cool - it was actually fruitier than we all expected). We played a game. I'd played before, in college, but the first time I'd seen it was in the movie Inglourious Basterds. You ask yes-or-no questions to guess the name on a card stuck to your forehead. I was Meryl Streep.

As I walk down the streets in this city, I pay attention to the license plates on the cars. They usually have two letters, a space and then a jumble of more letters and numbers. I always look for the initials of friends and family.

I was a little amused, a little disgusted to find a cigarette machine right outside a pharmacy. This country, never lacking in beauty, style or art, doesn't seem to lack much irony, either. I guess it's a human thing.

Saturday night was "Notte Bianca," white night, on the other side of the Arno River. That meant live music, cheap bar prices and hundreds upon hundreds of Florentine kids leaning on lampposts and fountains under yellow spotlights. All the trashcans were filled with cups and bottles by midnight.

I'm gonna mention some of my co-teachers. Corinne and Beth jumped Alice into a grocery cart and bumped her over the cobblestones. The locals turned from their trance music to watch, and grinned. I got separated and called a roommate from the Ponte Santo Spirito. That was my night.

Bravissimi.
-a