An Unexpectedly Wonderful Afternoon

A few weeks ago, my boss mentioned that she'd been invited to a blogger meet up.  She asked me if I'd like to go.  I said sure.

I never imagined that this morning would involve a bus ride up a windy, mountain road somewhere in the Tuscan country side.  I never thought about a villa.  And the possibility of eating wild boar for lunch never crossed my mind.

The event was put on by Tuscany Now, a company that offers luxury villa rentals in Tuscany.  They invited bloggers from the area to come and enjoy a lavish lunch, stunning views, and incredible hospitality- for free.  All they asked was that we'd come home and blog about it.  I was the youngest one there, with the least visited blog, eating wild boar and drinking wine.  And I didn't have to pay for the food or the networking.  Essentially, it was a classy college student's dream.

In addition to the food, there was live Tuscan folk music provided by a bunch that was just as much a comedy troupe as they were a band.  I also go the chance to meet some American women living in Florence, all of whom are at the other end of their 20s.  They all have incomes and fulfilling personal lives- which was immensely reassuring.

Today, everything clicked.  Introducing ourselves wasn't awkward.  There was no small talk.  There were people sharing their thoughts and their stories.  Sharing themselves.

An event like this would never happen at home.  It would be too formal, too uptight.  There would be condescending people and fake people.  There would be a lot of small talk.  And there wouldn't be wild boar.

 Time moves more slowly when the bottles are

Uncorked.  Have a glass.  Have another.  Here we diet for our

Souls, not our waistlines.  This is the land of Chianti

Classico, after all.  And whether you've come from far

Away, or just down the street, there is a journey to be had.  I can only

Narrate my journey.  I implore you to make the most of

Your own.  And bring a corkscrew. 

(If you're interested: http://www.tuscanynow.com/?gclid=CNP4n97sgbYCFYKN3godcCcAbg )

(Also- this blog isn't the only place I'm on the internet! http://www.magentaflorence.com/magenta/week-by-week/free-historic-art-show/ )

Sunday Sensibilities- Fiesole

Sunday, after what seemed like endless rain, (not a metaphor), we saw the sun (also not a metaphor- the weather here sucks).  So, like any good Smithie, I took all of my homework and a granola bar to a bench under a tree on a hill.  The hill being Fiesole, a town whose altitude allows for a stunning view of Florence.  

I did some reading for my classes, of course, but I felt the need to write.  I hadn't written in so long- not just for this blog but for myself.  Things haven't been coming to me, and I've been tired and stressed and worried about things that shouldn't make me tired and stressed and worried.  (Story of my life).  I did all my writing just outside the church of San Francesco.  A friar walked by me with an understanding look on his face as he watched me write.  It was encouraging.  

So, as I've done in past Sunday Sensibilities posts, what comes after this is what I wrote, just as I wrote it.
    
The church was built here however many hundred years ago because it was outside the city, way up on a hill, on its own.  Most of the monasteries built at the time were built in comparable locations, because it was believed that in order to be as close to God as friars and nuns need to be, they had to escape the evils and distractions of city life.  Today, all it takes to get here is a bus ride.  I wonder what San Francesco would have to say about it.  I think he'd be really annoyed with us, honestly.  Especially with Italy.  It's a little ironic that he's the patron saint of the country.  The man took a vow of poverty and made every effort to use and have as few material possessions as possible, and he is now the patron saint of a country whose people are known for high fashion, who are obsessed with aesthetics and incredibly concerned with appearances and impressions.     

I have learned so much here.  And i don't mean in the classroom, however important and shaping that part of my experience has been and continues to be.  I am so much more in touch with myself than I've ever been before.  The benefits of taking the tiem for serious self reflection and self analysis have been immense.  I arrived confused and unsure, and now I have goals and objectives.  I am newly aware of myself.

It's sad to think how fast time has gone by here.  In some ways I still feel like I've just arrived, and in other ways I feel like an expert.  I do wish I had more time (though I am trying to stay for the summer!).  The thought of going back to Smith- a place where I spent so long studying things that weren't right for me and where I was never able to realize it- terrifies me.  I don't want to backtrack on all of the personal progress I've made.  I'm worried that I will lose myself in anxiety like I've done so many times there.  Don't get me wrong, I loved my time at Smith and the people I shared it with.  I'm grateful for it and better person because of it.  But it was, is, a love-hate relationship.  Education should not incorporate stress and anxiety at levels so high that it reduces people to tears.  Yet I've sat with a number of Smithies as they cry while looking over their to do lists and planners and assignments- and a number of Smithies have sat with  me as I did the same.  Education should not incorporate fear and worry.  How can you learn like that?  These things do nothing good for your brain, and they do serious damage to your heart.  

And I guess it's not odd that I had to come here to make this progress.  Italians in general are much more relaxed.  They don't believe in stress.  I'm still more high strung and stiff than your average 20 year old, but less so than before I arrived.  Much less so.  And letting go of some of that is what has hallowed me to make the emotional progress that I've made here.  It's allowed me to realize what I want to do, both in terms of a career and in other ways as well.  I guess I'm just growing up.  Something I've always been rather apprehensive about.