Il Mio Vicinato

I live on Via Brunetto Latini.

The closest large cross-street is Viale Alessandro Volta.

My bus stop is Via Madonna delle Querce, 

or Buffalmacco, depending on where I want to go.

And the closest important piazza (very close) is Piazza Delle Cure.

And it is a forty minute walk to il Duomo. 

Don’t even ask about the Arno.

My knees start hurting thinking about it.

Domani--I promise. For now, I'm just trying to get oriented.

I hate using other computers. On top of not being able to add my personal photos, I feel like every keyboard I come across here has a different layout. Finding apostrophes can take me up to three minutes, just pushing random combinations of command and shift keys.

I'm also trying to get a student card, so that I can get a discounted monthly bus pass. Like every in Italy, it isn't free and there is a lot of red tape.

If I thought I was tired in Rome, I had no conception of what the word "tired" actually means. I am exhausted--fatigued, sore, sleepy, lethargic--in every sense of the word. My legs and back hurt from walking a minimum of three hours everyday, my eyes hurt from squinting at the street names on plaques, my head hurts from trying to learn a whole language in two weeks, and I am emotionally drained from meeting so many people at one time.

I found out today that there is a computer lab in the S'Quola and Magliabechi buildings, so I don't need to search for Internet Trains any more.

Anyway, I will hopefully be posting something about my home, my cooking class, and my new city, Firenze! I have hundreds of photos waiting on my laptop... So excited!

Firenze fa freddo.

OH MY GOD, IT IS F-ING COLD HERE.

Nobody told me it was going to be windy, rainy, and sub-freezing. There was snow last week. Snow!!!

I bought a coat though, and it’s soooo purdy. It goes down to my mid-thigh but it’s fitted at the waist, and very flattering. Sometimes when I put it on, though, especially when I’m wearing my leather gloves too, I feel like I’m going to go fight a duel or kill a man’s favorite horse and put its head in bed with him.

That, or a little bit euro-trashy. You guys are going to be so excited to see me when I come back, if only to stare at my new-found tackiness (although some would argue it’s always been there, evidenced by my love for sequins and animal print).

Speaking of animal print, I fell in love with un colbacco, a big Russian style hat made entirely of fox fur. Gabriella (my host mom) explained to me that they call that style un colbacco because it looks like the hats the British guards wear. I don’t really get it, but I’m getting used to that feeling.

Oh, did I mention the hat was 80 euro? That, and the fact that a fox-fur hat is totally impractical in this rainy climate, convinced me to look for a fake one. Yes, you read that right: Obviously, I still want a giant fur hat.

I told you, I am fully embracing my inner euro-trash.

ants in my pants...

…butterflies in my stomach.

As we approach the city, I think a little about everything that could go wrong on this trip, but mostly I can’t stop thinking about everything that could go RIGHT.

Already, I have some wonderful friends. And our directors are amazing, so supportive and so much fun.

Hopelessly optimistic and romantic, I can’t help imagining myself sitting at the foot of the Baptistry, staring up at the sun-drenched, crystalline Duomo, with gelato in one hand and in the other Invisible Cities, half-read—or maybe a flower from a tall, dark Italian stranger.

Yep, that’ll be my first day in Firenze. I can deal with that.