Wednesday, April 28, 2010

Tuesday, April 27, 2010


Wednesday, April 21, 2010


Thursday, April 15, 2010

Pieces of April

Last weekend I decided to take Rachel to an aperitivo. Of the half dozen or so places I have been, I am most comfortable at Moyo. The plan was to order a drink, stuff ourselves on frittata and pasta, then return home so I could work on my Mass Media homework. Instead: Not a second after we walked in, we recognized two girls from our program and we combined parties. Their friend Bernardo joined us and later his friend Giovanni. After dinner we all went to a bar in Piazza della Signoria, which was hosting a karaoke night. Rachel honored us with a spectacular performance of Natural Woman. Everyone in the bar was impressed with her, and we all waited anxiously for her to sing again, but...the bar closed. What? That has never happened to me before. I listened to karaoke for how many hours? Anyway, we had a nice time and I got Rachel singing on video, which, even in the light and coherence of day, was still quite good.
On Saturday I took Rachel back to Cascine Park. Last time the two of us were sick, so getting there did not take 2 hours; it only took 1.5. We spent the entire afternoon in my favorite little amphitheatre, and we were only disturbed once, though persistently, by some skinny-jeaned adolescent. But this gave me an opportunity to practice my “get the hell away” Italian (we don’t go over that in class). My intention was to finish my book, but I could not concentrate (I blame the author) and watched a father and daughter try to keep a soccer ball away from their dog. Dogs are so loyal here. I might have mentioned this already, but most Italian dogs do not even wear leashes; it’s just not neccessary.
We eventually made it back to the center and, struck by the jolly green giant of genius, we went across the street of our apartment to the fruit and vegetable vendor (who gives us a discount on water) and bought two armloads of veggies, all fresh: green beans, artichokes, spinach, peppers, avocado (fruit?), onions, char, asparagus—we ate it all. The cooking and eating processes did not take long, but we were almost late for the movie I had wanted to see for several weeks. After a dash to the theatre, I was sorely disappointed that the film was not Fantastic Mr. Fox, as I had believed it to be, but a Japanese film, Departures, dubbed in Italian. Out of embarrassment and boredom (yes, it is possible to be bored in Italy), we purchased the tickets. I actually enjoyed the film. A little predictability never hurt anyone, and it was worth it just to witness the incongruous movements of the Japanese actors’ mouths and the Italian we heard coming out of them.
Rita came to visit us last night and we took her out to eat at a Japanese place near Santa Croce. It was my first time there and I loved it, especially since neither Rachel nor Rita would eat their sushi platters--guess who did. During a discussion about sushi several weeks ago, Rachel made a comment I will never forget: She said, “Sushi just doesn’t mean raw fish to me.” She’s so unintentionally funny—the best kind of humor, I think. Allora, after dinner (and gelato), we went back to the apartment and watched Tutti Insieme Appasionamente a.k.a. The Sound of Music. Rita had never seen it and, as I have mentioned, I will be in Austria this weekend. Oh goodness, I’ll be there tomorrow. We were planning to got to the Bargello Museo this morning before class, but, apparently, Rita is allergic to Japanese food, and she took off early this morning to go see a doctor. Poor, poor Rita. She didn’t even eat the fish! She said she will text me after she has seen a physician.
On that note, please don’t worry if you do not hear from me for a few days, because I will singing The Hills are Alive through Salzburg and snacking on strudel in Vienna. Brace yourself for an avalanche of photos. Also, I cannot wait to see my mother and grandmother in 2 weeks!
Vi amo ragazzi!

Saturday, April 10, 2010

Visit Art--Centro Di

Ginevera’s press conference for her Visit Art magazine was a success. Mainly, I was preoccupied with the little one, chasing her around and between the distinguished curators, journalists, and intellectuals of Florence. The conference was held in Palazzo Pandolfini on Via San Gallo, which is actually owned by Ginevra’s family. I was surprised by the number people I knew and recognized. Over a dozen or so knew me by name, and everyone knew Nerina. Usually she’s a shy little thing, but I think getting out of school early got to her head and she flitted around the palace grounds teasing adults with her attention and then whimsically leaving them in mid-sentence; she would then run back to me, only to leave me again. I spent most of the afternoon searching for a little blonde head among the lean figures in black suits. The actual presentation was quite brief, but the eating and chatting that followed took hours—typical Italians. Though I played a very small role in the making of this magazine, I am very proud of my boss and smile every time I walk by a newsstand and see the pink and green cover peeking out at me.