My strongest and most provoking sense is my sense of smell. I hold a firm belief in the science that connects the chemical level of scents to memory and emotion. I find myself pointing out scents that no one around me seems to regard. And yes, I believe my nose will lead me to the balanced chemical construction that is my husband. Call me crazy.
This powerful "tool" has been one of the most enriching companions of my time here in Italia. I've identified a few particular scents that seem to come out all over town. And, more excitingly, I've recognized some scents that remind me of home and more specifically some scents from mia Nanna's house.
Saying some of these aloud seems like I'm spilling secrets, as many will call them peculiar. Nonetheless, these are the experiences I consider noteworthy.
So, some of the Nanna-esque scents include the trash here at mia casa. Now I know this sounds odd, as trash has a universally bad odor. However, Nanna's doesn't, and, in fact, it has a special smell that resembles that of the trash here at my homestay. It helps too that it's placed under the sink in a little round bin, just like Nanna's.
On to the other smells... now these aren't necessarily familiar but I have identified with them and find them enjoyable. These are simple and omnipresent smells like the mix of coffee and smoke with a small hint of cologne. Speaking of human smells... I believe there are two perfumes/colognes that are worn by the men and women di Firenze. I haven't identified the particular names, but that is a mission I wish to go on. Every couple that walks down the street carries this wonderfully paired aroma. It's beautiful. The man smells masculine, fresh and designer-like, while the woman complements the scent with a sweet smell that also has a kick of spiciness. This seems to characterize the Italian duo wonderfully.
Anyway, I'm sure to point out these lingering experiences with those around me, regardless of their interest. And I'm certain I will be continuing this topic in my commentary.
21 June 2012
Basilica di Santo Spirito
Va bene... because I've finally received Jesus! This lovely church just happens to be in the same piazza as my school. So I can stop and say hi to Jesus anytime and attend daily Mass in the evening. This church is one of great tourism, but there are also locals who attend Mass.
It was beautiful to participate in the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass in Italian!
I want to work on memorizing prayers in Italian, so I don't have to attempt to fake them in Spanish.
There's a very special beauty in Italian prayer, especially from a little ol' Italian priest.
I feel like my residence here has officially begun now that I've found my place of peace, in front of the tabernacle.
P.S. Don't be fooled by the simple exterior. This 15th c. chiesa showcases works by Boticelli and many other big names.
It was beautiful to participate in the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass in Italian!
I want to work on memorizing prayers in Italian, so I don't have to attempt to fake them in Spanish.
There's a very special beauty in Italian prayer, especially from a little ol' Italian priest.
I feel like my residence here has officially begun now that I've found my place of peace, in front of the tabernacle.
20 June 2012
Vita Semplice
I asked for full immersion, and I got it! Simple living, whether I like it or not.
Three planes, three countries, and many passport flashes later, I finally stepped foot into the beloved country I so longed to unite with.
I got off the little plane that took me from the beautiful lands of España to the green, white and red boot.
I entered the quaint airport, joyfully anticipating the welcome from a dear friend, an Italian native. Of course, the duration of travel endeavors had to continue with baggage claim. So, there I was, scanning the conveyor belt, only to find that the fine design of Mr. Tommy Hilfiger was no where to be found. A few other frantic flyers and I headed to the other flight baggage claims (only three in total). There I watched each individual happily snatch their bag and head out to their awaiting destination. The luggage dwindled down to only a couple pieces until eventually, the belt came to a halt. Senza bagagli più... No more luggage.
At this point the exhaustion of travel along with the peace of Christ were my saving grace. I headed to the lost baggage claim window (so clearly this is a common occurrence?), where the Italian lady at the desk was being yelled at by an American man. I had no desire to contribute to this lady's frustration or to anyone's, for that matter. So I waited in line, unnerved by the fact that I had no way to contact poor Claudio and I couldn't leave the desk to find him and explain the delay. While anticipating the prognosis in line, I offered up quite a few Hail Marys, both for peace and for that darn luggage (I'd like to add that for an inanimate object, that luggage has been subject of a great amount of prayer). I finally greeted Mr. Italian man at the desk. His nonchalant attitude toward what I would consider a crisis tempted a switch to anger. However, I would not allow such attitudes to invade my dear trip. So I gave him all the necessary information and headed out the doors. I searched around for dear Claudio, but his sweet Italian "Ciao" was nowhere to be found. What to do?
I saw a phone, so I exchanged my 5 euro bill for some coins and shoved those bad-boys into the machine. Never have I been so calmed by the mention of my name as I did from the other end of that phone. Claudio apologized for having to leave and additionally on behalf of Italia for such a wretched welcome. He directed me to take a taxi to the stazione (train station) and meet him at the entrance, so that I did. A 15 euro ride later I was finally pacified by the presence of Claudio. He made up for any flaws in introduction that Italia may have made. He treated me to a delicious ice cream. The cool treat was a great remedy to the record heat 36 degrees C (97 F). We walked around a bit and then I headed on the train (with an already purchased ticket- grazie a Claudio) for Firenze. I boarded the plane with a sandwich and water (grazie mille a Claudio) and was on my way.
I got off into the new city that is to be my home. Upon exiting the station, I spotted a TIM store, where I purchased my sim card for an Italian number. Check.
Then I walked a few blocks and grabbed a taxi to Piazza Santo Spirito 10, pronto! I quickly picked up my information (and very limited luggage) and was sent again by taxi to my new home and family.
These past couple of days have been magnificent! Details on some of those things later...
I'm hoping to receive my luggage in the next few days, as it is supposedly "delivered". Just to give you an idea of a sharp contrast between USA and Italy- communication is not so key here in Italia. I found out my luggage should soon be arriving via online status and phone recording. No personal phone calls, niente.
I'm so grateful to my wonderful sister-in-law Jacq, who suggested I bring some toiletries and an extra pair of mutande (undies). So for now, I'm free from the burden of fashion. My outfits have consisted of the repeated use of leggings and a cardigan and the generous lending of blouses from my housemate Olivia and my homestay mama. I limited my additional purchases to a linen skirt, solo dieci euros, a toothbrush and deodorant.
The inner minimalist-aspiring part of me is loving the simplicity of such living, but the fashion-and- aroma-conscious part is merely scraping by. Va bene.
I'll enjoy the simplicity while it lasts and hopefully that will spill into the basic living of the rest of the summer. And, God-willing, my luggage will arrive soon (and actually be my luggage)!
Molte avventure...
Three planes, three countries, and many passport flashes later, I finally stepped foot into the beloved country I so longed to unite with.
I got off the little plane that took me from the beautiful lands of España to the green, white and red boot.
I entered the quaint airport, joyfully anticipating the welcome from a dear friend, an Italian native. Of course, the duration of travel endeavors had to continue with baggage claim. So, there I was, scanning the conveyor belt, only to find that the fine design of Mr. Tommy Hilfiger was no where to be found. A few other frantic flyers and I headed to the other flight baggage claims (only three in total). There I watched each individual happily snatch their bag and head out to their awaiting destination. The luggage dwindled down to only a couple pieces until eventually, the belt came to a halt. Senza bagagli più... No more luggage.
At this point the exhaustion of travel along with the peace of Christ were my saving grace. I headed to the lost baggage claim window (so clearly this is a common occurrence?), where the Italian lady at the desk was being yelled at by an American man. I had no desire to contribute to this lady's frustration or to anyone's, for that matter. So I waited in line, unnerved by the fact that I had no way to contact poor Claudio and I couldn't leave the desk to find him and explain the delay. While anticipating the prognosis in line, I offered up quite a few Hail Marys, both for peace and for that darn luggage (I'd like to add that for an inanimate object, that luggage has been subject of a great amount of prayer). I finally greeted Mr. Italian man at the desk. His nonchalant attitude toward what I would consider a crisis tempted a switch to anger. However, I would not allow such attitudes to invade my dear trip. So I gave him all the necessary information and headed out the doors. I searched around for dear Claudio, but his sweet Italian "Ciao" was nowhere to be found. What to do?
I saw a phone, so I exchanged my 5 euro bill for some coins and shoved those bad-boys into the machine. Never have I been so calmed by the mention of my name as I did from the other end of that phone. Claudio apologized for having to leave and additionally on behalf of Italia for such a wretched welcome. He directed me to take a taxi to the stazione (train station) and meet him at the entrance, so that I did. A 15 euro ride later I was finally pacified by the presence of Claudio. He made up for any flaws in introduction that Italia may have made. He treated me to a delicious ice cream. The cool treat was a great remedy to the record heat 36 degrees C (97 F). We walked around a bit and then I headed on the train (with an already purchased ticket- grazie a Claudio) for Firenze. I boarded the plane with a sandwich and water (grazie mille a Claudio) and was on my way.
I got off into the new city that is to be my home. Upon exiting the station, I spotted a TIM store, where I purchased my sim card for an Italian number. Check.
Then I walked a few blocks and grabbed a taxi to Piazza Santo Spirito 10, pronto! I quickly picked up my information (and very limited luggage) and was sent again by taxi to my new home and family.
These past couple of days have been magnificent! Details on some of those things later...
I'm hoping to receive my luggage in the next few days, as it is supposedly "delivered". Just to give you an idea of a sharp contrast between USA and Italy- communication is not so key here in Italia. I found out my luggage should soon be arriving via online status and phone recording. No personal phone calls, niente.
I'm so grateful to my wonderful sister-in-law Jacq, who suggested I bring some toiletries and an extra pair of mutande (undies). So for now, I'm free from the burden of fashion. My outfits have consisted of the repeated use of leggings and a cardigan and the generous lending of blouses from my housemate Olivia and my homestay mama. I limited my additional purchases to a linen skirt, solo dieci euros, a toothbrush and deodorant.
The inner minimalist-aspiring part of me is loving the simplicity of such living, but the fashion-and- aroma-conscious part is merely scraping by. Va bene.
I'll enjoy the simplicity while it lasts and hopefully that will spill into the basic living of the rest of the summer. And, God-willing, my luggage will arrive soon (and actually be my luggage)!
Molte avventure...
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