Sunsets. Friends. And Chanting Monks.

Roommates
A Tuscan Sunset

Four of the roomies

We hiked the steep slope on the other side of the Arno for an evening to watch the sunset. On our way over we shopped at the German Christmas Market that was set up in the Piazza Santa Croce, got some gelato, then headed up the hill. The view was gorgeous, one to remember. We hung around the flat steps laughing together, taking candid shots, and marveling at the colors in the sky and the greenery of the countryside right outside of the city. After the sun set, we hiked even higher up to San Miniato to hear the monks chant their daily prayers. Inside was dark with small flickers of candlelight in the corners. Under the main alter were stairs leading down to a smaller chapel, there they began to chant while churchgoers chanted in response. It was beautiful. We must have sat there for at least an hour, absorbed in our own private thoughts. The experience with nature, then God, is one I will always refer back to when I'm "homesick" for my Italian home. Nothing can compare to the extravagance of God outside, but also the quiet contemplation of a cathedral that has been there for centuries and will continue to be there even after I'm gone from this world.

Italy is taking up space in my Heart

I have so much emotion pinned up inside me. I keep thinking about my last month here in Italy and all that is still on my list of things to see and do.



I have dreamed about this year for so long--planning and re-planning--and now it is on the verge of being over. My time with YWAM. My time in Italy. I have achieved them. I have experienced them. They have changed me, and hopefully, I have done something to change them as well.



Life moves too fast for me. I am now twenty-one and I keep thinking about my short month I spent in the south of France with Sandra and her family two years ago. Could it really have been that long ago? I was eighteen and I hadn't started college yet. I hadn't applied for YWAM or Italy; they were still just dreams. I hadn't known Kat or Leah yet. I hadn't dated anyone yet. My grandfather was still alive and proud of me. Death was not a reality yet. My brother hadn't hit his growth spurt yet. He was still my 'little' brother. So much has happened in just two years. What will happen in just two more? Italy will be a memory, a fond one, but only a memory still. My five roommates will be spread out around the country. Time and distance will have their effects on us. How could that be possible? The girls I traveled around Europe with, the ones that will be spread throughout my scrapbook?



I'm not ready to give it all up yet. I am carefully balancing on the edge of a sword. If I am not careful, I could stay here forever. I can only romanticize about Italy for so long. The real thing is much better than my dreams. It is passionate. My experiences with Italy are never dull. One day I slip in a puddle of mud and get yelled at in Italian at the Post Office. The next I'm sipping a cappuccino with Francesco and listening to him talk about art. A week later I'm in the Uffizi at dusk watching as smoke rises from the villas across the Arno. The next day I am cursing Italy because her wireless connection is keeping me from talking with my family.



I love Italy. But I also hate her. I adore the sound of her language, but I hate that I'm not picking it up easily. On the train I marvel at her scenery--her diversity and lush greenery even in autumn. But I abhor that all trains to Venice are usually sold out making it difficult to get there and shortening my stay altogether. I love two of my classes--Hidden Meaning in Renaissance Art and The Italian Grand Tour--but the other two are a bit dry--Archaeology Workshop and The World of Museums. I am so thankful for our apartment and I love the family who owns it and works at the front desk. But it makes me sad that they keep up their formal fronts, even with us. They have made us pies, given us jelly and almonds, and licorice. I am going to miss them, but even more, I am going to wish that our relationship went deeper than them giving us our keys every time we come home. I will most definitely miss the pizza boy who waves every time we pass--coming and going to our apartment. But again, I will wish it was more than just a wave and the occasional, "Ciao Bella!" or "Dove andata?".



My heart is always happy when I'm in the little nook between the Uffizi and Piazza Signora when the guitarist is playing my favorite song. It is somber and sad, but beautiful. When it is cloudy above and puddles sit between the stones, and the Piazza is deserted except for a few locals and the occasional tourist; a couple sits on the loggia kissing while whispering secrets behind the music. The sculptures on the loggia glow in the setting sun, the Roman soldiers' passion and the women's pain are amplified in shadow. They have been here for centuries, they have seen every kind of tourist, they know so much, yet, here, in the Piazza when no one is around to witness it, they come alive and relive their experiences for us who watch closely.









"You can kiss your family and friends good-bye and put miles between you, but at the same time you carry them with you in your heart, your mind, your stomach, because you do not just live in a world but a world lives in you." -Frederick Buechner

New Zealand. Amsterdam. The States.

Last night I had a wonderful time hanging out with three other women who are currently living in Florence. It was supposed to be a planned "hang-out" time with some of the people who go to Florence Gospel Fellowship (a small church I found that reminds me of the little church we worked with in Phang Nga, Thailand) But, after waiting in front of the church doors for 45 minutes, we decided we would do something on our own. The reason we waited for so long was the fact that we were all on different times..I was thinking like an American who would only wait about 15 minutes top, while the others were thinking like Italians who would wait much longer because they are usually late anyway! Then we weren't sure who we were waiting on...would they be thinking like Americans or Italians? If they were the former then they would have come and gone already or just stood us up. If they were the later then we should wait as long as we could possibly stand, since there's no telling when they would show up. Do you see our dilemma?

After our wait we meandered over to the famous gelato, Vivoli. I had chocolate mousse, which was heavenly. Then we went up to one of the girl's apartments to chat over tea. (I felt very English in Italy with three people who were neither of those nationalities).

The more I meet people living over here, especially people in their 20s, I realize that it really isn't abnormal to move out of your homeland. Europeans, I think, are more at ease with this concept. Tinika, who is originally from Amsterdam, quit her job to move here to learn the language. She is at least in her late-20s and didn't think twice about the move. Now she speaks exceptional Italian (along with Dutch, German, and English) and is currently looking for a job to stay. Carrie, who is a New Zealander, is possibly in her early-30s and has lived in NYC, England, Germany, and Italy over the past decade (and also speaks multiple languages). She is going for her Doctorate and often lectures in Germany. I think she cycles through Cambridge, Germany, and Florence on a regular basis. And Mary, who is a fellow American, is here for her Master's in Art History. She studied abroad here for her BA and became an Au Pair after she graduated. She kind of has a long history with Italy-often coming back for months a time.

All this to say that I think we over in the "New Land" have the wrong idea about an "ordered" life. I feel that most of us have a phobia of not doing things in order-College, Career, Marriage, possibly another degree, Children, a loonnngggg gap in between, Retirement, then death. Who says it has to be like that? Being over here has really helped me see different lifestyles and attitudes about life. I've said this before, but I am always amazed by Europeans devotion to family and friends. They don't worry about career or money. On the contrary, most Italians are just making it by. Yet they believe in no higher being than themselves. It's a bit backwards really, and yet totally universal. Another proof that God is not "Christian" but Universal. Most Italians may not believe in God, but with their very actions and tendencies towards goodness and truth, they prove his existence without even knowing it.

PS: I got my absentee ballot! I'm voting abroad, yay! I hope all of you are voting as well, wherever you are. ;)