Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Va bene! Va bene!
After thinking about my last blog posting, I realized that anyone who is not, well... me, might consider my "difficult month" not so difficult at all. You were probably reading and thinking "By difficult, do you mean, weekend trips to Rome? Sightseeing in Florence? Loads of free time to do whatever your heart desires?" Well, I know, it sounded a bit spoiled, and yes, I get it. But I guess sometimes it really takes SPELLING IT OUT to realize what's in front of you. And as decided, I'd like to proudly say that I have been appreciating each of these last September days. Today, I even met a new friend while at the Agenzia delle Entrate -- and she is from Spain so I practiced my spanish! And...Tomorrow is my first day of Italian classes! I am sooo excited. Thus, I must go and get a good night sleep for the first day of school tomorrow!
Friday, September 26, 2008
Try to remember the kind of September
They say September is one of the nicest months in Italy. Unfortunately, for me, it was one of the hardest. After summer had ended and the girls went back to school, I found myself alone in Florence for the most part. I thought, no problem, I enjoy being solitary -- I get a lot more reading done, that's for sure. I started wandering the streets of Florence by myself and getting acclimated to the neighborhood and the surrounding territory. I keep imagining that some fortunate twist of fate is going to bring me together with my newfound Italian boyfriend, but it hasn't quite happened yet. So, once I had sufficiently found my way around without a map, I began to search out all the important tourist spots that were "must-sees" for visitors of Florence. I went to the Cathedral of Santa Croce, I went to mass at Il Duomo, I saw San Lorenzo and the Crypts of the Medici family, I studied the artwork on the walls at Pitti Palace and the Uffizi Galleries. I saw famous works such as the Botticelli's Birth of Venus, Lippi's Madonna and Child, Caravaggio's Medusa, and Michelangelo's David. Everything seemed so wonderful, and yet I somehow was not feeling myself and was beginning to question the greatness of it all. Realizing that a large part of my dissatisfaction was due to the lack of social interaction that I am usually used to, I set my eyes on the calender start date for my Italian course. I thought, October 1st: it's not that far away, and I have time to do all the things I want to do before life gets too busy. I have from the time I wake up until 4 pm, when I go to get the girls from school, completely to myself. It was during this time that I realized how much I missed my friends in the States. I am not even really able to talk to them on the phone during these hours, because of the six hour time delay. The loneliness, particularly the lack of conversation during the large part of the day, was starting to shrink my spirit of enthusiasm.
In the middle of September, the girls' cousins' nanny, Georgia, whom I had spent time with in Bolgheri, had returned from her family's stay at the beach and moved to their home in Florence. She came as a blessing to me, because just as I thought I was hopeless on my own, she came to cheer me up. We went out together and discovered new places , such as the market of San Ambrogio and Mercato Centrale, and walked the route to where we would be attending classes in order to finalize and turn in paperwork for the start of our Italian course at the University of Firenze. The next weekend, Jane took the girls and me, along with a friend and her daughter, to Rome for the weekend. We stayed in a hotel by the Trevi Fountain and took a sightseeing bus to see all the tourist sights. Roma truly is a romantic city and I fell in love with it instantly. Upon returning to Florence, I once again, tried to make the most of my days on my own, though it became difficult at times. Some days I did not feel up to any adventures and so I stayed inside, working on odd tasks. However, for the last few days, I have been forcing myself to go outside and appreciate the beauty and splendor of this city that is now home to me. I still have not felt completely assimilated and attached to this place, but I know that it will come in time.
Today, as I ran my new jogging route (which is helping me to feel so much better) I opened my eyes, maybe for the first time in a while, and really looked out around me. I realized how truly lucky I am to be here in Florence and how I have been very fortunate to have the opportunity to live in very different but very beautiful places in my life. I ran up to Piazza Michelangelo and stared up at the giant replica of David with all of the city of Florence in the background and I was filled with marvel. I wandered up the hill and saw a sign for Basilica di San Miniato al Monte. Curiously, I strolled up the many stairs. Halfway up the stairs, there was a plaque of information that stated that the construction of the present church began in the 1000s and that it was a Benedictine monastery, and later, in the 1400s, a summer home for Bishops of Florence was built next to the church. Now, this was a fascinating find, I thought. As I reached the top of the stairs I turned around to check out the view. It was breathtaking. There were not many people around the church grounds, so it was very peaceful to simply roam around. There were graves and statues that I began to wander through. I walked from one section to the next and my excitement built up as I realized that this was no little graveyard-- it was a magnificent cemetery with monuments, mausoleums, and private family chapels. It is an odd thing, but I do adore cemeteries. When I was an undergrad studying abroad, I went to the famous Recoleta Cemetery in Buenos Aires to see the grave of Evita Peron and was fascinated by the serenity I felt there but also by the beauty and creativity of the individual tombs. In Charleston, there is a beautiful overgrown graveyard at the Unitarian Church that I used to love visiting when taking a detour off of King Street. And in Ireland, the beautiful emerald isle, we visited gorgeous graveyards filled with celestial Celtic crosses.
As I wandered the cemetery of San Miniato, I looked at the names and even the black and white photographs that were on some of the graves. At one moment I looked up, and behind the bell tower, the clouds in the sky were moving at a rapid pace. An autumn breeze blew through the cypress trees surrounding the grounds and suddenly the church bells rang. I looked around and there was not a person in sight, but in front of me, there were hundreds of graves of souls that had gone before me. I thought about their lives and of how they had come and gone. I continued on and eventually I went inside the church. It was very dark inside and there were a few other visitors too. And, there was chanting. The Benedictine Monks were chanting their daily prayer from behind the wrought-iron gates in the lower part of the church. It was magical. There were frescoes on the walls of the church and beautiful patterns on the ceilings. It was one of the most beautiful and serene places.
As I ran home to Borgo Pinti, I no longer felt the pang of loneliness. I knew that next week will be different and that perhaps I might even meet some new friends at school. But more importantly, I realized that I can be happy with the todays instead of always looking for the tomorrows (which is my common downfall). I should get out there and do something, anything, and enjoy these last individual days of September.
In the middle of September, the girls' cousins' nanny, Georgia, whom I had spent time with in Bolgheri, had returned from her family's stay at the beach and moved to their home in Florence. She came as a blessing to me, because just as I thought I was hopeless on my own, she came to cheer me up. We went out together and discovered new places , such as the market of San Ambrogio and Mercato Centrale, and walked the route to where we would be attending classes in order to finalize and turn in paperwork for the start of our Italian course at the University of Firenze. The next weekend, Jane took the girls and me, along with a friend and her daughter, to Rome for the weekend. We stayed in a hotel by the Trevi Fountain and took a sightseeing bus to see all the tourist sights. Roma truly is a romantic city and I fell in love with it instantly. Upon returning to Florence, I once again, tried to make the most of my days on my own, though it became difficult at times. Some days I did not feel up to any adventures and so I stayed inside, working on odd tasks. However, for the last few days, I have been forcing myself to go outside and appreciate the beauty and splendor of this city that is now home to me. I still have not felt completely assimilated and attached to this place, but I know that it will come in time.
Today, as I ran my new jogging route (which is helping me to feel so much better) I opened my eyes, maybe for the first time in a while, and really looked out around me. I realized how truly lucky I am to be here in Florence and how I have been very fortunate to have the opportunity to live in very different but very beautiful places in my life. I ran up to Piazza Michelangelo and stared up at the giant replica of David with all of the city of Florence in the background and I was filled with marvel. I wandered up the hill and saw a sign for Basilica di San Miniato al Monte. Curiously, I strolled up the many stairs. Halfway up the stairs, there was a plaque of information that stated that the construction of the present church began in the 1000s and that it was a Benedictine monastery, and later, in the 1400s, a summer home for Bishops of Florence was built next to the church. Now, this was a fascinating find, I thought. As I reached the top of the stairs I turned around to check out the view. It was breathtaking. There were not many people around the church grounds, so it was very peaceful to simply roam around. There were graves and statues that I began to wander through. I walked from one section to the next and my excitement built up as I realized that this was no little graveyard-- it was a magnificent cemetery with monuments, mausoleums, and private family chapels. It is an odd thing, but I do adore cemeteries. When I was an undergrad studying abroad, I went to the famous Recoleta Cemetery in Buenos Aires to see the grave of Evita Peron and was fascinated by the serenity I felt there but also by the beauty and creativity of the individual tombs. In Charleston, there is a beautiful overgrown graveyard at the Unitarian Church that I used to love visiting when taking a detour off of King Street. And in Ireland, the beautiful emerald isle, we visited gorgeous graveyards filled with celestial Celtic crosses.
As I wandered the cemetery of San Miniato, I looked at the names and even the black and white photographs that were on some of the graves. At one moment I looked up, and behind the bell tower, the clouds in the sky were moving at a rapid pace. An autumn breeze blew through the cypress trees surrounding the grounds and suddenly the church bells rang. I looked around and there was not a person in sight, but in front of me, there were hundreds of graves of souls that had gone before me. I thought about their lives and of how they had come and gone. I continued on and eventually I went inside the church. It was very dark inside and there were a few other visitors too. And, there was chanting. The Benedictine Monks were chanting their daily prayer from behind the wrought-iron gates in the lower part of the church. It was magical. There were frescoes on the walls of the church and beautiful patterns on the ceilings. It was one of the most beautiful and serene places.
As I ran home to Borgo Pinti, I no longer felt the pang of loneliness. I knew that next week will be different and that perhaps I might even meet some new friends at school. But more importantly, I realized that I can be happy with the todays instead of always looking for the tomorrows (which is my common downfall). I should get out there and do something, anything, and enjoy these last individual days of September.
Thursday, September 4, 2008
Only in Ireland
"Alive alive oh! Alive alive oh!..." These were the lyrics that were the soundtrack of our trip in Ireland. At the beginning of our adventure, I taught Franci this classic Irish tune entitled "Molly Malone". She picked up on it right away and everywhere we went in Ireland she was compelled to sing the song. "In Dublin's fair city, where the girls are so pretty..." She belted the tune wherever we were and had a rather good Irish brogue singing it too! I think she was actually mistaken for a genuine Irish lass! On one occasion, while coming out of the bathroom at the pub, Franci was swaying (only because she never quite can walk straight - that would be too boring!) and singing without shame. An old Irish man with rosy cheeks looked down at her and then looked up at me and said, "Looks like the wee one's had a little too much to drink."
In Clane, the village outside Dublin where we did a house swap and called home for two weeks, we soon became the loud but lovable town guests. (I think we were the only tourists in this little town). There was a sign on the main street of the town that read: "Clane. A good place to live." Ahh, and wasn't that the truth. There were many sayings like this that we noted throughout our stay that were so simple, but so true. Frequently we saw the saying, "A good day for a Guiness." And no matter how many days we saw that sign, the idea never got old.
We went to Ireland with Jane's friend Caterina and her two sons, Edo and Georgio, and their nanny. (Their father Mario joined us the second week). The first week we were in Clane, Ali, Franci, Edo, and Georgio were signed up for a horse riding camp. We were, as it was, in County Kildare, the most well-known horse country in the Emerald Isle. Everyday the kids were in pony camp from 10 am until 4 pm. They loved it and came home happy campers at the end of each day. Georgio, however, had a bit of a harder time understanding their trainer and usually would ask Ali to translate when he had no idea what was going on. One day we went to watch and Georgio, who is six years old, but looks like he is nine years old, seemed to be clueless while the others were fiercely paying attention to their teacher. The young and extremely friendly teacher with pretty black hair and green eyes noticed that Georgio was lying almost all the way back on his horse and not paying a bit of attention and said "George-eee-oh!" It sounded almost like she was singing Old MacDonald with the ee-i-ee-i-ohs. She asked him to take the reigns and sit up. He looked around clueless. This was a funny sight. Finally, he got the picture, realized it was his turn to trot, and went around the ring bobbing up and down on his horse happily and the teacher said, "Well done Georgio" in her thick Irish accent. I'm sure he had no idea what she was saying. Georgio and Franci were the best of friends during the trip, as were Ali and Edo. It was so cute. Caterina, who is half American constantly speaks to her boys in English, but Georgio who I'm sure will grow up to be the classic Italian stallion, had no interest in even trying to speak English. One time he became so upset that the other kids wanted to watch Harry Potter in English and not in Italian that he stormed out of the room crying. He fitfully asked me, in his dramatic Italian accent,"Wherrre iz da mya maaaamaaaa?"
Ireland was simply beautiful. We drove through Kildare and down to Cork and Kerry. For miles we saw the most gorgeous scenery. Everything was so lush and verdant. We went to Wicklow National Park, where we kept our eyes peeled for leprechauns and fairies, but no such luck. We even tried looking for a handsome feller --this was the place in the movie P.S. I love you that the main character finds her husband. But again, no luck. That isn't to say, we didn't get lucky in Ireland! We did see a rainbow, but the pot of gold came in other forms. We had the most enjoyable journey from beginning to end. We even had a few fun nights out on the town! One night, the other nanny, Anna, and myself were invited to an Irish wedding! I never in my life thought I would be able to call myself a wedding crasher, but a few lads we met in the pub insisted we go and said that their best friend, Sham, who was the groom, would love it. The party apparently had been going on since one o'clock in the afternoon and and it did not stop until after four in the morning! We had an Irish good time and hung out with the bride and groom and danced the Irish Step dance and sang along to "Come On Eileen" (Mom, you would be proud) and to "Galway Girl". And of course, we felt perfectly safe getting home in Clane, since we were, "just at the top of the road!" Two nights later, I had another gallivanting good time with Jane and Caterina. We went to the Village Inn where we ended up closing the bar sitting around the outside tables with our new friends singing classic Irish tunes and famous American ones too. One of our new friends sang to me Bruce Springsteen's "Jersey Girl" and wooed everyone with his melodious voice. I never did realize how similar Springsteen is to classic Irish singing....and "Galway Girl" (a song you might recognize that was in P.S. I love you) was actually written by a U.S. country singer. I might have just been converted to country music....just a wee bit.
We saw castles, graveyards, forts, stables, and thoroughbred horses. We even went seal watching in the Ring of Kerry. Our trip was just wonderful. We ate Irish soda bread each day, and frequented the carvery at local pubs where we indulged in a classic meal of "meat and three (pronounced 'tree') veg." And believe me, from the looks of it, there won't be another Great Irish Potato Famine any time soon, for there certainly was no shortage of the kind while we were there! We simply accepted soon into our trip that we just might return to Italy feeling like we had turned into giant Irish potatoes. That prediction certainly came true. And usually, for dessert, to top off our already full bellies, there was plenty of rhubard crisp to go 'round!
We also went into Dublin and saw all the sights, including what all the tourists seem to flock to, the Guinness factory. At at the top level of the factory there is the Gravity Bar where you receive a complementary Guinness, and, of course, we made friends with the bartender and received an extra beer on the house! We went down the famous shopping district of Grafton Street, where we saw a red-headed guitarist, which seemed so familiar because it was the exact scene we had just watched in the recent Oscar-winning Irish film Once. We also saw the funky Temple Bar district, just before catching our Bus Éireann from Connolly Station, which took us back to Clane in 40 minutes. Surprisingly, we had the same bus driver twice in one day, and, of course, we managed to make friends with him too! All in all, it was certain that we had the luck of the Irish on our side! I felt proud to be there, after all my life claiming my Irish descent, and yet only having been in the 'motherland', I'm told, when I was a baby. We saw the Coffey (my last name) Family crest in tourist shops, on key chains, mugs and magnets, and I beamed with Irish pride at the sight of it. None of the children wanted to leave when it was time to go, but, along with their luggage filled with souvenirs, they all (even Georgio!) seemed to carry with them a newfound Irish spirit. All left with the knowledge that in our hearts we would always hold a bit of Erin go Bragh (Ireland Forever)!
In Clane, the village outside Dublin where we did a house swap and called home for two weeks, we soon became the loud but lovable town guests. (I think we were the only tourists in this little town). There was a sign on the main street of the town that read: "Clane. A good place to live." Ahh, and wasn't that the truth. There were many sayings like this that we noted throughout our stay that were so simple, but so true. Frequently we saw the saying, "A good day for a Guiness." And no matter how many days we saw that sign, the idea never got old.
We went to Ireland with Jane's friend Caterina and her two sons, Edo and Georgio, and their nanny. (Their father Mario joined us the second week). The first week we were in Clane, Ali, Franci, Edo, and Georgio were signed up for a horse riding camp. We were, as it was, in County Kildare, the most well-known horse country in the Emerald Isle. Everyday the kids were in pony camp from 10 am until 4 pm. They loved it and came home happy campers at the end of each day. Georgio, however, had a bit of a harder time understanding their trainer and usually would ask Ali to translate when he had no idea what was going on. One day we went to watch and Georgio, who is six years old, but looks like he is nine years old, seemed to be clueless while the others were fiercely paying attention to their teacher. The young and extremely friendly teacher with pretty black hair and green eyes noticed that Georgio was lying almost all the way back on his horse and not paying a bit of attention and said "George-eee-oh!" It sounded almost like she was singing Old MacDonald with the ee-i-ee-i-ohs. She asked him to take the reigns and sit up. He looked around clueless. This was a funny sight. Finally, he got the picture, realized it was his turn to trot, and went around the ring bobbing up and down on his horse happily and the teacher said, "Well done Georgio" in her thick Irish accent. I'm sure he had no idea what she was saying. Georgio and Franci were the best of friends during the trip, as were Ali and Edo. It was so cute. Caterina, who is half American constantly speaks to her boys in English, but Georgio who I'm sure will grow up to be the classic Italian stallion, had no interest in even trying to speak English. One time he became so upset that the other kids wanted to watch Harry Potter in English and not in Italian that he stormed out of the room crying. He fitfully asked me, in his dramatic Italian accent,"Wherrre iz da mya maaaamaaaa?"
Ireland was simply beautiful. We drove through Kildare and down to Cork and Kerry. For miles we saw the most gorgeous scenery. Everything was so lush and verdant. We went to Wicklow National Park, where we kept our eyes peeled for leprechauns and fairies, but no such luck. We even tried looking for a handsome feller --this was the place in the movie P.S. I love you that the main character finds her husband. But again, no luck. That isn't to say, we didn't get lucky in Ireland! We did see a rainbow, but the pot of gold came in other forms. We had the most enjoyable journey from beginning to end. We even had a few fun nights out on the town! One night, the other nanny, Anna, and myself were invited to an Irish wedding! I never in my life thought I would be able to call myself a wedding crasher, but a few lads we met in the pub insisted we go and said that their best friend, Sham, who was the groom, would love it. The party apparently had been going on since one o'clock in the afternoon and and it did not stop until after four in the morning! We had an Irish good time and hung out with the bride and groom and danced the Irish Step dance and sang along to "Come On Eileen" (Mom, you would be proud) and to "Galway Girl". And of course, we felt perfectly safe getting home in Clane, since we were, "just at the top of the road!" Two nights later, I had another gallivanting good time with Jane and Caterina. We went to the Village Inn where we ended up closing the bar sitting around the outside tables with our new friends singing classic Irish tunes and famous American ones too. One of our new friends sang to me Bruce Springsteen's "Jersey Girl" and wooed everyone with his melodious voice. I never did realize how similar Springsteen is to classic Irish singing....and "Galway Girl" (a song you might recognize that was in P.S. I love you) was actually written by a U.S. country singer. I might have just been converted to country music....just a wee bit.
We saw castles, graveyards, forts, stables, and thoroughbred horses. We even went seal watching in the Ring of Kerry. Our trip was just wonderful. We ate Irish soda bread each day, and frequented the carvery at local pubs where we indulged in a classic meal of "meat and three (pronounced 'tree') veg." And believe me, from the looks of it, there won't be another Great Irish Potato Famine any time soon, for there certainly was no shortage of the kind while we were there! We simply accepted soon into our trip that we just might return to Italy feeling like we had turned into giant Irish potatoes. That prediction certainly came true. And usually, for dessert, to top off our already full bellies, there was plenty of rhubard crisp to go 'round!
We also went into Dublin and saw all the sights, including what all the tourists seem to flock to, the Guinness factory. At at the top level of the factory there is the Gravity Bar where you receive a complementary Guinness, and, of course, we made friends with the bartender and received an extra beer on the house! We went down the famous shopping district of Grafton Street, where we saw a red-headed guitarist, which seemed so familiar because it was the exact scene we had just watched in the recent Oscar-winning Irish film Once. We also saw the funky Temple Bar district, just before catching our Bus Éireann from Connolly Station, which took us back to Clane in 40 minutes. Surprisingly, we had the same bus driver twice in one day, and, of course, we managed to make friends with him too! All in all, it was certain that we had the luck of the Irish on our side! I felt proud to be there, after all my life claiming my Irish descent, and yet only having been in the 'motherland', I'm told, when I was a baby. We saw the Coffey (my last name) Family crest in tourist shops, on key chains, mugs and magnets, and I beamed with Irish pride at the sight of it. None of the children wanted to leave when it was time to go, but, along with their luggage filled with souvenirs, they all (even Georgio!) seemed to carry with them a newfound Irish spirit. All left with the knowledge that in our hearts we would always hold a bit of Erin go Bragh (Ireland Forever)!
Catching Up
I have been away from my blog for more than a month now and I have been told that I must get back to it. I am finally back in Florence after the past two months of being here, there, and everywhere. At the end of July, Jane, the girls, another family, and I went to Ireland for a two week vacation. It was just gorgeous! (Say that with an Irish accent!) From beginning to end, we spoke to one another throughout the days repeating the Irish phrases that we heard in our best Irish imitations..."Top of the morning to ya!" was a daily thing..."Oh it's just at the top of the road" was usually what we heard after asking directions. "Tanks very much," we soon recited. And when looked upon with the four children running around me, I was once told, "You've got your hands full - you'll go straight to heaven!" Did he think they were all mine??? There's lots more to be said about Ireland and I will fill you in about it in another post. But just to catch up, after returning from Ireland, two days later, Katherine and Kellen and the whole Cooney clan (Kellen's family) came to Italy for a visit. It was fantastic seeing them! The girls had already gone to Bolgheri to spend time with their cousins and grandparents, so I was a free agent and was able to hang out with Katherine, Kellen, and the Cooneys for five days! (I was sad though that they did not get to meet Ali and Franci). I saw parts of Italy with them that I may have not otherwise been able to see, and it was so nice to hang out with them and to recharge my not-quite-homesick-but-definitely-missing-my-peeps battery. We went to the Chianti region, to San Gimignano, Sienna, Pisa, and then, spent three days in the most beautiful place with the most stunning views from cliffs with vineyards scaling them and colorful towns built into them -- this was Cinque Terre. And I will tell you more about that another time. :) From Cinque Terre, I took the train down the Mediterranean coast to reunite with Ali and Franci and La Famiglia Guarducci in Bolgheri. I spent the rest of August there and had a wonderful time meeting all of the aunts, uncles, and cousins, and going to the beach (which all reminded me of summers with the Coffey family in Avalon), playing in the pool, eating very yummy food, and just having a nice relaxing end to the summer. So finally, now, I am back in Florence and beginning to have a regular routine. The girls started school this past Tuesday and I have been there to pick them up at the end of each day. They go to a French school that is a little more than a ten minute walk from our apartment, and it is very interesting observing all the after-school chatter in a variety of languages -- so far, English, Spanish, French, and Italian have been the languages I have been hearing among the parents and children around me. So that seems to bring me up to the present day. I will definitely go back and fill you in on all the details. For now I must be off -- I am registering for school for myself - classes in Italian - and then I go to get the girls! Until later...Arrivederci!
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