Firenze

Florence is easy to romanticize, as is the whole of Italy. Surrounded by beautiful vistas (and people), good food, and cheap wine, you slip readily into the idyllic world that has been painted for tourists since long before I set my eyes on this country. Part of me wants to argue that I'm blameless, that it isn't my fault, but that voice lacks any argument as to why I wouldn't be responsible for my own education. Sitting here drinking my wine, I wonder vaguely at societal and economic problems that I know nothing about. I am disappointed in my own gaping ignorance, promise myself to do more research when Internet is readily available. A fine excuse.

Yesterday was my third day in this city, and the first I allowed myself to wander around with my Nikon out. This wasn't a ploy at appearances, trying to blend in with the local crowd; my backpack gives me away immediately, despite my clothes and choice in shoes. Rather, I'm trying to focus in absorbing everything around me, all of the details - the quaint streets and pretty alcoves, yes, but also the roughness, the graffiti, the smell of urine and dust that often permeates smaller roads. I fell for this city in the hills in a sudden way, not yet knowing it. Infatuation is funny like that, we decide on a whim that something or someone suits us well long before we have any proof, and then we act all surprised and disappointed when we come to find out it's not perfect. Not that that would happen with Florence.

It was staring up at the David on my first day in town, actually, that reminded me to pay attention to the bits skipped over when me and my doe-eyes are busy with grander details. The subtleties of the David were what drew me in. The veins in his inner elbow, the ripples at his knees, the lines under his eyes and the sworl of his ears; it's always the little things that distinguish. The days I spent in Rome were lovely, but spent with a craned neck, staring up at grandois buildings and art. They were left wanting for personal connections. This town, if you'll allow me to call it that, is smaller and kinder, leaves more room to explore past the marble and gold leaf, if you're willing to pay attention.

This morning I woke up to find there comes a point where even the idea of appreciating the world around you sounds exhausting, when - despite telling yourself that it's your last day in town - you no longer care for cobblestone streets and adorable stationary shops, nor for magnificent basilicas and rooms full of master artists' great works. Italy moves slowly, but it is easy to spend a vacation here busy and exhausted, trying desperately and hecticly to check off all of the places and things on your list. I'm grateful for taking a whole month for this trip for many reasons - the current one being the time and ability to spend the morning drinking cappuccino and the afternoon eating thoughtful, well-made food, all with my nose buried in a book. Maybe tonight I will be refreshed enough to look around again, certainly tomorrow. But for the time being, this is enough.

Peace & love

Elyse