October 8, 2017:
- It is 11:18 and I am still in my sweats, have no makeup on and no immediate plans to change that situation. It’s rainy and fall-like today so I am writing and listening to Vivaldi and drinking tea. I’ve had a few of these days since I’ve been in Florence, and I’ve dubbed them my Hemingway days because they feel broody and thoughtful, except I don’t think tea was his drink of choice. And he lived in Paris.
- Speaking of rain: It has rained every Sunday since I’ve been here. I like to think it’s the city’s way of convincing us to slow down and cozy in. Also, I’ve learned to swallow my PNW pride and carry an umbrella. I haven’t learned to like it, but I’ve learned to do it.
- This is that odd moment in the day when I am awake, but all of America is asleep and it makes me feel alone and unanchored. I love when the clock strikes 4:00 p.m or so, and I know my people are beginning to wake up.
- Church bells ring so much more on Sundays than other days. And a marching band went down my street a few minutes ago and I have no idea why, but I stopped to enjoy the happy of it.
- Yesterday I went to a giant museum. It was beautiful, but also just not my thing. I really want to be cultured and smart, but I find so much more joy in lingering over a cappuccino in a piazza watching real people, than I do battling suffocating crowds to see statues of dead people. I’ve done three museums here in Florence: Galileo, Palazzo Piti and Uffizi. I think I’m going to call that good.
- Though it’s fall in Italy, there is a distinct absence of the pumpkin spice/maple frenzy that has come to define the season in America.