Happy Anniversary

One year ago today I woke up for the first time in my apartment in Florence.  When I walked out of the door, through my neighborhood and reached the Arno River, I was amazed that I was here; some days, I still feel that way. To mark this anniversary, I decided to complete early morning "grocery shopping" in a few of my favorite spots, instead of going to the nearby supermarket.

My first stop was two blocks away at the fruit and vegetable vendor who sets up his food everyday at the side of the ancient door of San Frediano.  I bought peaches, apples, tomatoes, lettuce, onions, one red and one yellow pepper. The vendor gave me a stem of grapes, saying "Buon Appetito". And, before I paid, he asked if I needed basil or parsley.  The herbs are always gratis.  On my return, I stopped for fresh mozzarella, prosciutto, a multi-grain roll and schiacciata (similar to foccacia). I limit my consumption of prosciutto, but today is a special occasion!

Fruit, wine, bread, pizza

After putting away the perishables, I walked to Carduccio to get a cappuccino.  I sat and read a few articles about the wildfires in California. Then, to Enoteca Millesimi for a bottle of wine to share with friends. I included a few minutes of quiet in the church at Piazza Santo Spirito. My final stop was at S.forno Panificio to see the specials of the day.  I selected a slice of fig cake and small piece of pizza, even though I had already purchased food for lunch.  The pace of daily life can be very enjoyable!   

Cappella Frescobaldi, inside the church at Santo Spirito

How am I feeling about this year abroad?  This question has a complicated answer.  The start of the year held great promise, and many of my plans were realized.  I traveled in Italy, joined organizations, made new friends. I shopped locally and visited every museum. My kids came to visit for the holidays and we were all in Barcelona together to bring in the new year. By mid- January, I felt homesick, and made a plan to return to the US to visit friends and family.  I was excited!  Friends were coming to visit in the spring. All was well! Then, we received news of my mother's illness and the start of the pandemic.  Needless to say, everything changed.  

I left Italy on Friday, 13 March and returned on Friday, 29 May.  My time back home was not what I hoped. Kindness from friends helped me to deal with my mother's illness. She did not live long after my arrival; though through a grand grace, I was with her when she died. I stayed on in Florida for several weeks, then booked flights to visit my children. Eventually, I returned to Florence. My neighbors and apartment owners helped to ease my quarantine, and after two weeks, I set out to re-explore the city and reconnect with a few people.  On the one hand, much was the same, and on the other hand life felt very different. What are my goals now? Since then, my days have been up and down. I took a few trips which I enjoyed.  Travel with my neighbors is always wonderful.  In between, days can be lonely. Visitors from the United States are still not allowed in Italy.  When will this improve... chissa'... who knows? My appointment for "permission to stay" was changed four times and is now on 17 September.  A residence card will allow me to stay in Florence for another year. This second year in Italy, unlike the first year, is filled with questions and no answers.  

Laundry Day 

At Home

A week ago, I went with my friend, Ursula, to Ikea.  The impetus for this was as follows:  I was at the apartment next door, home of Ursula and Sergio, when Ursula placed crackers into a zip-lock bag.  I pounced and asked, "Where did you get those bags?"  A regular zip-lock bag cannot be found on the supermarket shelves in Italy.  She replied that they were from Ikea and that she needed to go soon to pick up coffee and napkins.  I asked if I could tag along on her next trip.  

In addition to zip-lock bags, I had a list of items that I wanted to buy to have my apartment here feel more like "me"... more like my "home".  Included on the list-- glass jars for my morning oatmeal and tea; colorful potholders; a short glass vase for the table; an outdoor mat; new sheets.  And, of course there were the extra items I picked up while there, like the heart napkin holder in the photo.  Isn't that what Ikea is all about?  

The questions of what creates a "home" and where I feel the most "at home", have been on my mind for months. (And, the question of feeling "useful" again, but that's a separate issue!)  When I first bought my own house in Bloomfield, I had clear notions of the home I wanted to create.  All the photographs on the walls were ones I had taken of significant people and places. Each handmade item had a story.  Homemade cookies were always in the freezer.  Flowers were on the table. Good quality soap was in the bathroom.  I wanted a feeling of love. Of course, some of those aspects are easy to recreate anywhere; but, the essence of "home" is something else.  

After the Christmas holidays of 2019 and before the "lockdown", I began to feel homesick.  I missed all of my belongings and the activities that I did with ease and confidence.  I emailed my friend, Ed, who had traveled extensively.  He called and said, "I'm surprised it took you this long."  I blurted out, "I just want to throw two sticks of butter in my KitchenAide and bake a damn batch of cookies!" We had a serious conversation about being connected to a place, about routines that mattered, and how it was normal to miss all of that. I had read articles written by people who were traveling long term, and each one said that they didn't even think about the items they had packed into storage.  Turns out, that is not my case at all.  

After almost a year, my apartment, which is beautifully appointed, does contain more items that I selected.  I like remembering each purchase and the conversations with shop owners. The apartment is modern and my taste tends to be more "country", so now there's a happy blend.  This is only a small step, because "home" is more than objects.  A casa.  Dove cantera' il mio cuore? 

(Note-- After I wrote this rumination, I listened to a podcast by an American journalist working in Beirut and reporting on the explosion of 4 August. Her apartment was badly damaged.  She had multiple cuts requiring stitches.  Her story, and worse, is multiplied throughout the city.  Perspective.)

Comme il Fait

To find the most famous store for tango shoes in all of Buenos Aires, Comme il Faut, you must know the exact number of the street address, Arenales 1239. Along Arenales, there is no sign. The number is on the side of the building and a walkway leads to a group of fancy boutiques. CF is listed in the directory posted on the left side of the walkway. Pass three shops, walk upstairs, buzz and enter the store.

Once in the store, you will notice something unusual for a shoe store, no shoes on display. Sit down and a sales clerk will ask a few questions. What is your shoe size? What color would you like? What heel height? I asked for size 38, black or purple, medium heel. Then, she brought out boxes and boxes of shoes to try.

In less than an hour, I selected a pair: violet and bronze, medium spike heel. Muy bonita. The price was less than I paid two years ago for a pair in New York City. Each shoe was slipped into a pouch of its own. Included was another bag to carry the shoes to a milonga, so everyone would know where you bought your shoes. All placed into a black and white CF shopping bag.