April 7, 2007
It's now The End, just about, of my four short weeks in Florence, Italy, learning Italian and coincidentally the ways of the Italians. These two things are not the same.
I feel exhilarated that the end is in sight, and a bit blue to have this episode coming to a close. I'm writing this first part of the blog on Thursday night, and life is full, but not full enough to avoid these thoughts. Tonight I'm meeting Linda Pack and David Weitzman for dinner at that excellent local restaurant David Brookes originally recommended, and where I had a birthday dinner with candied pear for dessert on my birthday (compleanno) March 23. Thought we'd try it again.
They serve steaks here that look like lovely catcher's mitts - big, thick and gorgeous, but not tough. And the steak stands alone. It comes to your table on a big wooden board, to be carved by the waiter, and that's it. You look down and there's a bloody catcher's mitt on your plate. No potato, no string beans, no balanced diet. Just a bloody piece of well cooked and well-aged beef. That is how they do food here: Just the way you do it at home, rarely with any variations, and if there are variations it's because the cook comes from another region, or the place is trying to be "Mediterranean" or something. Basically, it's the same food mother made, on the same plate, at the same time of night, in the same order, and at exactly the same temperature. That's authentic Italian food, and if it isn't like that, the locals won't pay for it.
Friday is another "big test" but it has been explained to us that (1) it's easy and (2) it's only 'for us' not for any other use. That is all true, but I've been conjugating both in my sleep and in my daydreams all week. It's easy to confuse the imperfect with the past perfect, and wonder when to use which, and then there's the future, with another set of conjugations to remember, then there's the relative pronouns (pronomi relativi) "che" and "cui" and remember cui always is preceded by preposition, but which one? and also there's the reflexive tense, in which the subject also is the object and you ALWAYS use "essere" (to be) as the helper verb in the passato prossimo and did I mention that all of this will be on the test, plus a sampling of things we were taught in the first two weeks? Really, it's (1) easy and (2) it's only 'for us' and (3) it helps if you are native speaker.
As far as actually learning to speak Italian, which bottom line is my overall goal, living here helps. The sound of Italian is in the streets at all hours, on the staircase by my door. It drifts in through the open window and is everywhere on the street, in stores, in the school hallways, on TV (pronounced 'tee-voo') at all hours, and so forth. The rhythms begin to permeate through the traveler's somewhat soiled clothing, and the words stick in the ears. At night I find myself reciting sentences that may be gibberish or totally mixed tenses and numbers, but the words are spinning in my head like a song that won't quite quiet down. This constant stream of Italian is what I will miss, and not having this in my head is why I am going to lose the facility I now have to sort of sing in Italian, if you know what I mean.m Not exactly sing, but talk in a way that carries me over a few of the holes in my vocabulary and the places where I have no idea exactly how to express something. It seems to mesmerize the Italians, so they kind of wait while you sputter, and eventually come up with something elementary that they aha! can understand, at least enough to smile and point in response. Oh yes, they talk in response, too, but who knows what they are saying?
Actually, I've discovered also that my hearing has improved, too. The rhythm works both ways. I don't get all the words, but if I listen carefully, words I do understand suddenly bring to light words I didn't understand when the sentence started. I love this when it happens.
So I am on the verge of a better understanding of Italian, and I am leaving now. Yet if I ponder what it might be like to stay here as a single student another four or even eight weeks, I know I want to be home, now! Italy has its claws in me, but I don't really live here. I have problems with this culture, and I want my own.
I want my bed that is soft, and my wife who is soft, too. I want my cats, and especially the clean air and bountiful forests of Caspar and Mendocino. I want the ocean again, and the smells. I want to take a deep breath almost anywhere and not inhale auto fumes and people's cigarettes. I miss my cello, and picking it up whenever I feel like it. I miss the "free" and always-on Internet. I miss the challenge of working with KZYX. I want to ride my bicycle, drive my car, see the sunsets and the moonrises. I want to watch the Giants start the seasons and the Warriors end theirs. Stuff like that.
Still, Italy will call me back as time goes on. I'll probably drag Joselyn into this world, and show her all the places I called home for a month. I hope she likes it. Maybe we'll visit my new friends in Sweden, and say hello to my old teachers here. Who knows?
But now it's a few more days here, some new towns to explore and meals to eat, then the long flight home. They say jet lag is less severe going West, and I will test that theory to the utmost. It's been a great trip, and I'm glad I did it.
Dinner at Buca Dell'Orafo at 8 pm on April 5, 2007, was very much like last time... loud, good, and fun. David, Linda and I shared Bistecca di Chiamina at kg 58 Euro... when it appeared it was a huge steak on the bone (I don't know the name of the cut) on a wooden platter, carved into three big bloody pieces by the watier. We started with several small dishes to share: Segato di carciofi morelli which is a very large artichoke cut into small, thin pieces and served with slices of parmesano; also Spinachini saltati aglio e olio, which is a big plate of warm spinach; and chitarrine ai piselli freschi, or spaghetti and fresh young peas; and pecorino e baccelli, or thinly sliced pecorino cheese with al dente fava beans... absolutely wonderful, all of it. Overall the cost was 66 Euro per person including cover and tip... not at all bad for such a good night and excellent food.
We talked constantly, louder and louder as the room filled with hungry people. We talked about the museums, about Broadway shows, Paris, Verona, Venice, school and tests, the bookstore, all of it. It was a lot of fun, and I recommend nights like this to anyone before you die... you must experience this kind of loud, almost drunken, food-driven evenings. We started with an excellent bottle of Prosecco, and followed with a very good chianti. Was it the the wine talking, or us? Ahhhh.
Saturday morning I got out early, in the wonderful coolness of a sunny morning. Walked to the Museo Archeologico, and had it pretty much to myself. Looking at objects several thousand years old put me in a contemplative mood. The museum is arranged as a series of long corridors connecting some large rooms. At times I felt like I was in NYC's Metropolitan Museum, in rooms filled with somewhat miscellaneous Egyptian artifacts picked up in exotic locations and transported to Florence by the Medici and later rich art lovers.
In the garden everything was in spring bloom. I could see the garden from the adjacent street as I approached, and from many windows inside the museum. Walking through it I glanced at the museum's English paper on it: "During the first half of the 18th century, the garden of the Medicean Palazzo della Crocetta took on the appearance that can still be partially seen today. ... by order of the prince regent of Craon, the Boboli gardener, Francesco Romoli, divided it into a series of rectangular flower beds enclosed by terracotta and sandstone elements... (From 1885 on) ancient statuary of various provenance were (added)... Entire archeological monuments were placed in and between the flower beds, recomposed after having been dismantled from their original locations.... An honest-to-goodness outdoor museum was hence created: an educational trail through Etruscan tombs that are immersed in the verdant garden."
The most interesting pieces inside were the Etruscan sculptures, some very small, with exquisite human detail... clearly an inspiration for the Renaissance artists. A few were quite elongated (I have a couple of pictures that I'm keeping, but they unfortunately are too blurred to publish). Giacometti, too, has antecedents. The Egyptian hippo was outstanding, and that picture will be published here.
Leaving the museum and it's gorgeous garden full of resurrected/transported/rebuilt tombs and a couple of well-fed cats, I caught the #7 to Fiesole and arrived in that interesting hill town. Lovely view through the haze of Florence. I could identify the Duomo, of course, but also the synagogue in my neighborhood, Santa Croce, and the big stadium where today at 3 pm there will be an important soccer game.
I treated myself to an expensive lunch in the garden of the four star Villa Aurora Hotel (Aurora Ristorante) and pretty much had it all to myself. A bottle of San Pelligrino, a tiny amouse bouche, then one prawn with one corn-filled tart with tiny bits of fresh melon in alfalfa sprouts... at this point I knew I was here for the view of the food, not the food itself, then a red wine risotto served this way: A puddle of pink rice in the center, delicate bits of corn chips on one side, a piece of fish that was either steamed and cooled, or pickled, or perhaps cooked in lemon juice, I couldn't actually tell; one piece of fried green leaf (was it sage?) topped by a chewy strip of fish scales. Altogether a work of art, but the only part really worth remembering was the excellent risotto itself. The International Herald Tribune and weekend USA Today and a caffe latte with sweet biscuits for dessert. Sound of birds, ancient pine tree over my head, bright yellow pansies in hanging baskets on the railing next to my table, cool wind blowing up from Florence, below, and three or four wait people with nothing to do but reheat my coffee or bring me a knife. Another ahhhh... moment.
Thanks to everyone for reading this far.
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