Austin Goes to Italy!: Exam Week

You'd be surprised how difficult it is to get motivated to write a 10 page paper or study for finals in Italy. There are too many distractions, and let's face it, it's just not fair to the weather if you lock yourself in a library's basement on a beautiful day. The sun invites you to come out and soak up some of its rays, the green grass asks for your bare feet, and the birds want someone to sing to. If it weren't for the fact that I really enjoy studying art, there might not be too much learning here in Florence.

Well, with three finals down I only have one more to go - Italian. Yesterday, Rebecca and I bought chocolate covered shortbread cookies with our celebratory lunch, and last night I went out for a birthday dinner at this delicious Italian restaurant. What did I order? Pasta! I know, who would have thought!? But not just one kind of pasta... five! The pasta sampler serves five small portions of an assortment of carbs, which last night included: bow tie pasta with pumpkin, risotto with artichokes, macaroni and cheese in a vodka sauce, ziti with bolognese sauce, and a pene pasta I'm forgetting. And after the plate full of carbs, Kit and I thought it would be a good idea to get the dessert platter. GREAT idea for my taste buds, not such a great idea for my already stuffed stomach.

Ending the night with a walk back home in beautiful spring weather, I was beyond satisfied with my day. Any day spent with friends is a great day, but yesterday was even more special as everyone was just a tad bit more emotional with the semester ending. It's a weird feeling knowing that this really exciting chapter in our lives is wrapping up and the last few pages are being written. Am I ready to leave? Well, there will be some things I'll miss for sure, like my walk to school. I don't think I've ever told you about my walk. Okay, let me take you through it...

I'm welcomed by the sun as I step out onto the sidewalk. Cars and Vespas pass as I begin to stroll down the street. Birds fill the morning sky with their tweeting and the sweet noises bounce off buildings, their songs never-ending. Walking near the river, I pass all different kinds of people. Old women decked out and in one inch high heels, looking like they're going to a tea party, men with canes and adorable grandpa hats moving as slow as a turtle, moms pushing their babies in strollers, dads holding their child's hand as they walk to school, dogs roaming the streets... I get all of this in about a 10 minute walk to the end of the street.

Trying to fit in and act like I'm Italian is a lost cause, as I know my tennis shoes and book bag are a dead giveaway. Then, as I turn onto a new road, my nose goes crazy with the smells of pastries baking from the pasticceria on the right and the chocolate shop on the left. Forcing myself to continue forward, the coffee shop tempts me. I'm finally (well, almost) home free at the corner where the neighborhood bread shop greets me with its deliciously smelling, freshly baked bread. Inviting me in with its open doors, I say "no thank you, I'm already late for school," and I continue on my way toward my very favorite part of the walk.

Passing through the open markets can be a challenge, as tents are squeezed together in a space that is way too small for the amount of people that frequent it. Using my Italian, I say "scusa, scusa" and weave my way through the crowd. Then, boom! All the fresh produce stares me in the face. Sometimes I give into the succulent colors of oranges and apples, but usually my watch pulls me away and tells me it's time to start picking up the pace. And this is why I wear tennis shoes to school - for this moment when I realize I need something in between a quick walk and a light jog, a combination that undoubtedly leaves little bullets of sweat on my forehead.

Saying goodbye to the produce, I enter the graffiti tunnel. Have I told you about the graffiti tunnel? It's a tunnel situated under the railroad tracks and is covered with the most beautiful graffiti. I'm not talking about the trash words that are usually written on Atlanta walls downtown; I'm talking about art. There's this older man who lives in the tunnel, he's been there about seven years now, and a couple times a month he adds new art to the already decorated walls. He makes my day, either with his boom box playing upbeat Italian music or, if I'm lucky, he will have recruited one of his friends to play the accordion while he sings and blows the harmonica. And he can sing! These are my favorite days - when I hear the man who live in the graffiti tunnel sing, filling the tunnel (and people's ears) with joyous music. Now, I don't understand what he's singing, but the smiling faces of Italian passersby tell me that it's refreshing and happy, and that's all I need to know.

Exiting the tunnel, I glance at my watch again. Yikes! Only 10 minutes before class starts! At this point I regret wearing a jacket and packing my computer, but there's not enough time to strip my coat or lighten my load. I have less than eight minutes before I walk in late and my professor gives me a dirty look. Passing backed up traffic and the supermarket, I make it to Piazza Savonarola with a sign of relief. The school is within sight! Dodging dog doodoo is my last obstacle before arriving in an air conditioned building. I've become really good at this, actually - dodging dog poop (since grass is limited in Florence, anywhere - even the sidewalks, is free reign for dogs).

I let out a sigh of relief as the open classroom double doors comfort me; class hasn't started yet. I made it! And this is how my day begins, with a little bit of music, lots of aromas and a a collection of sweat bullets.

Besides my walk to school, I'm going to miss the art, authentic Italian food, my host parents, my school, my home garden, Leo (Nonna's cat who I've surprisingly and unexpectedly bonded with), the wonderful friends I've made, buying produce at my neighborhood stand, getting gelato at GROM after dinner, being surrounded by buildings that have been around for 600 years, strolling the open leather in the centro, and about a million other things. Then again, it will be good to get back home to friends and family and the comforts of home. Leaving Italy really is bittersweet.

Well, that's all I wanted to share with you today. Now onto studying...

Ciao!