Feast Your Eyes on Florence

Delightfully enjoying a cold gelato on a hot late afternoon in a seaside town on the coast of the Adriatic Sea, it hit me: “What am I still doing living in San Francisco?”

One international phone call and ten minutes of laughter from the other side later, I hang up with my mother—my newly conceived dreams of  moving to Italy and opening a gelato store were shattered. Nevertheless, one cannot remain gloomy for long in such lively circumstances. But let me start from the beginning and explain to you just how I managed to find myself in Paradise.

One fine year ago, something hit me. Not literally, of course… although many attributed my behavior to a head injury. No, this was something different. The “Italian Bug” is what I called it. I had all the symptoms: daydreaming, hopeless planning, pointless research, the works. When one entered my room there was no doubt where my mind was. Sure I had a poster of Paris on my wall… that was utterly dwarfed by my three-wall shrine to every Italian city I could find a picture of.

At this point, I had begun to take Italian lessons, watch Italian movies, listen to Italian music, and of course, eat Italian food. In my defense, Italian Bug or not, I would still listen to Italian music and devour Italian food. Finally, I had an epiphany. I realized the ultimate way to fulfill my Italian dreams: studying abroad in Italy, only for a month in the summer, since I had school to worry about.

Hysterical, tearful laughter from my family followed. Hmm.. it seems that they weren’t as enthusiastic about my plans as I was. It’s ok, I thought, they’ll begin to see things my way because I’m a big believer in “When there’s a will, there’s a way”. And oh, a will there was.

Several months and countless hours of pleading, crying, promising, cleaning, begging, praying, and bribing later, my parents were still not budging. Well, at least they had stopped laughing. That was progress. Finally, one beautiful day, I had managed to prove myself mature enough to handle anything that Italy throws at me, and my parents reluctantly agreed to let me go.

Now we fast forward to several months later, a teary-eyed me standing in the security-check line at SFO waving tirelessly to my even more teary-eyed parents. I was on my way to Italy armed with a very limited vocabulary, an Italian phrasebook, unending enthusiasm, and one ridiculously enormous suitcase.

Needless to say, when I arrived in Italy, I was not disappointed. In fact, on several occasions I had to stop myself from taking more pictures, reminding myself that I had a month left ahead of me and that no one back home would be as interested in Italian showers as I was.

For the record and contrary to popular belief, I was going to Italy to study the language and feel the atmosphere—and not to meet handsome Italian boys. Although I certainly wasn’t going to stop it if it happened.

Upon my arrival in Italy, I met the other seven participants of the program in which I was enrolled. On the second day, after spending the night in a beautiful country villa, we were paired off with our home-stay roommates to await meeting our host families. My roommate, a girl from Texas named Avery, and I were picked up in a tiny European car by our delightfully animated host mom, Dolores. Sitting in that petite car on the hour-long drive in the stifling summer heat, surrounded by our own suffocating baggage and listening to our host mom ramble on freely in Italian while Avery and I sat with equally baffled looks on our faces made me realize that this month was going to change my life.

The first week in Florence was a blur. My first few days were spent wandering the city, jaw permanently dropped, eyes gaping, in utter awe at everything. Much of that first week was spent getting into the routine of going to school in the center of the city and exploring the city after school. Sure, there were plenty of obstacles.

For example,

Some Things That We Had To Get Used To:

• The fact that most people or storeowners do not, in fact, speak English and don’t feel the urge to learn.
• The impeccable heat and the fact that if you bring a cold water bottle out with you, in a half an hour, it will be perfect for a delightful cup of hot tea.
• The exchange rate of the Dollar to the Euro, and if something seems relatively cheap at first, it’s because you didn’t convert it to dollars yet.
• The fact that, aside from the historic center, the entire city goes dead between the hours of two and four as the residents and store owners enjoy a restful “siesta” while the tourists are left wandering the deserted streets looking like lost lambs.
• The massive amounts of food that our host mom expected us to devour every night for dinner that left us unable to move from our seats or stay awake.
• And  my favorite, the fact that I was a female in a country that is very “appreciative” of women.

Nevertheless, I was determined not to be overwhelmed by culture shock. Sure,  my host mom spoke only Italian and when she told us something vitally important, we’d all just exchange confused looks and mouth “What?!” across the dinner table. Thankfully, there were other roommates living with us in our apartment, and some of them spoke better Italian than us, so it became a joint group effort to understand what was going on.

Soon enough, I was used to taking the bus to school (my Texan roommate had never ridden a public bus before), ducking into air-conditioned stores every half an hour or so to prevent heatstroke, and laughing off all the awkward situations created by language barriers. I was even used to constantly being yelled at by my host mom for random things. Honestly, how was I supposed to know that you need a transponder and an adapter to plug into a European outlet to prevent the circuits from shorting and turning off all of the electricity. I learn something new everyday. It seemed that when our host mom had something to say, she would yell it, just to make sure she got the point across to us. “Turn the water off during a shower so as not to waste it! Don’t leave your clothes on the floor (that was my roommate, I swear)! Don’t talk to strange boys that you meet from your window!”

Every day after school, my friends and I explored the city, finding little treasures on every street, whether it was a beautifully painted shrine to the Madonna, a delightful little store, or an architecturally tantalizing building. One of these treasures that we “discovered” was a market place called “ Il Mercato San Lorenzo”. This is a market place that stretches down several streets and is filled with merchants selling standard Florentine goods aimed at the typical tourist. One can find anything here from fashionable clothing, to leather goods and cheesy souvenirs.  Haggling is expected here, but most tourists are either unaware of that, or terrible at haggling. I fall into the latter category. The most interesting thing about this marketplace is what happens when a girl, unaccompanied by a guy or her family, walks through. Gasps, whistles, and yells of “Ciao bella!” are heard from all sides. Naturally, this is a routine performed for every girl regardless, but it’s still a nice ego boost. This marketplace was just one of the many fun quirks of this dazzling city.

Let me take a step back and try to paint you a picture of Florence. As one of the most famous cities in Italy, it was the inspiration for many works of literature and art. Of course, this comes as no surprise because the city is full of  visually awe-inspiring architecture. During the days in the summer, the streets are crowded with tourists from all over the world, creating a rather comical scene for people-watching. During the night, however, the streets are reserved for lovers. Couples of all ages stroll through the ever-romantic city. Being the journalist that I am, I decided that it was my duty to explore the Florentine nightlife. There are plenty of bars and pubs in Florence, for every taste, from casual places to meet up with friends, to more expensive places to see and be seen. What surprised me was that the main point of these bars and pubs was not for students to get drunk, but rather to socialize. Also, Florence is full of popular clubs and lounges, each with its own special charm or gimmick, whether its an outdoor club for dancing under the stars, or equipped with a very light sprinkler system to keep those hot summer nights a little cooler. All in all, I found that Florence is a city so diverse and open that it could appeal to just about anyone and everyone. Whether you’re a party-driven tourist, a studious intellectual, or just interested in meeting some amazing people, this is the place for you.

At the end of my trip, I had learned many things and have a few words of advice for those looking to travel in Italy.

Some Things That I Learned From Experience:

²  Italian drivers are not aware of the meaning of a stop sign. In fact, to them, it doesn’t exist. So when crossing the street, look both ways, and walk like you own the road, because the drivers can sense fear and will only speed up.

²  Being late to a meeting or an appointment is no big deal, as long as you show up with a smile. In fact, a smile will get you anywhere in Italy.

²  Adding an –o or –a sound to the end of any English word can usually make it Italian. (i.e. Pen is now penna, bank is now banca)

²  Large and animated hand gestures will usually get your point across, no matter the language you speak.

²  Italians are a very warm and open type of people, so they are easy to talk to and will gladly offer assistance to those in need.

In conclusion, studying abroad was, so far, the smartest decision I’ve made and I encourage anyone interested in broadening their perspective to look into it. Plus, you never know who you’ll meet on your adventures or what wild stories you’ll have to tell your friends.

Tatiana Sundeyeva enjoys travel,  literature, puns, and anything with an unhealthy sugar content. And not necessarily in that order. She is a graduate of UC Berkeley where she got a degree in English with a minor in Italian.