If the ten powerful men who knocked down the center door, for his height exceded the limits of the building he was created in,began moving the colossal piece this afternoon, if they hitched the oxen and worked throughout the night by the time my feet land on American soil, David, small boy turned ironically into a giant by Michelangelo, would stand proudly arriving in Piazza Signoria glaring towards the South, at Rome. At the Medici family, just daring them to return.
I will be out of the country this time next week, high in the air and on my way back to you.
And while i have paced myself, and i have journaled and been aware of the passing days...I have no idea how this happened. It seemed yesterday i was staring wideyed at the Cathedral and unsure at the busstops. I still stare up at the Duomo when i pass her and smile to myself, but by the time i get to the bustop i usually am swept away with the music of my ipod and end upleaning against 500 year old buildings waiting for my turn to push onto it. I know the cashier at the grocery store, and Giovanni and i exchange smiles and morning greetings when i pass his resturant on the way to school. When i get a sandwhich, my sentence is finished for me, and the ''pomedora e mozzarella panino'' is probably half finished. I shout over the bells that clang each hour instead of stiffling conversations to hear them. I could get anywhere in the city with my eyes closed, save that i would easily trip over loose cobblestone on the way.
It seemed just a bit ago that i swam in the sea and hiked the amalfi coast. That first trip seems lifetimes ago now. I remember the days i saw my classmates and polietly said hello. As i pummeled JP from behind when i meet him at the duomo before the Inter game, it proved our great leaps in familiarity between CAPA members.
The general awe from student to professor has also faded, proved by Ian writting that his professor Frank was the word for ''monkey'' in Italian when he wrote the forgotten trivia on his quiz, taught by Frank's wife. And Frank's echoing laughter in the Galleria Acedamia when he hasseled Ian about it the next morning in art history showed the casual relaxed enviroment of school here.
Sunday i meet JP, Avery and Leah anxiously for the game. I stepped onto the bus with my new Fiorentina scarf loosly wrapped around my neck. Glancing around the bus i noticed other swatches of purple on everyone from young fiesty teens to old men and women. An elderly man on a bus passed with a purple and white fiorentina banner sailing behind him, tied to the end of the bike. Purple flags fell from windows along the way, and holloring and cheers from passing groups of young men expressed out excitment for the match later that afternoon. Game days bring pride out of the woodwork and nods to and from fellow supportes on the bus felt like an acceptance from the city. Both JP and I were atleast twenty minutes early, and insistent on calling the missing members the moment the clock struck noon, our decided time to meet. On the way, we stopped for Kababs..fantastic sandwiches similar to Gyros and through sloppy mouthfuls JP and i gushed over world cup moments, favorite and dispised players and generally exuded excitment. We arrived at the stadio early and paced the vendors, both food and gear, and picked our way through the Viola newspaper for news.
After a moment of silence for the Fiorentine's coach, whose wife had passed away the day before, the whistle blew and the game began. I'd like to point out that during this moment of silence, it truely was silent. You could hear a pindrop. The entire sold out stadio, and i sadly sigh to think of the hollors and jeers that likely would have found the silence back in America. The respect was refresing.
Unfortunatly, we lost, but fought a good battle. We were, after all playing Inter-Milan a powerhouse of a team. In the second half, JP and I excitedly whispered to eachother, trying to hid our urging from the passionate Florence fans, that we really wanted Inter-Milan to put Marco Materazzi in. He is a very aggresive, very skilled player we had seen during the cup, and whats more was the recipient of the headbutt from Zidane. Finally, in held breath we saw him remove his warmup jersey and take a spot near the center line waiting to be gestured on by the ref. While the crowd loudly sneered their displeasure...JP and I were triumphant, happy to see him play in person.
After the game Steph and i wandered the steets back to our apartment, and as Sunday came to an end we both expressed our enormous disbelief that this trip was so soon coming to an end and we were about to face our last week of classes, followed only by one of finals.
This week has been relativly quiet. Monday brough class, and my only unusal diversion of the day was a long walk across the Arno, nothing even that out of the ordinary.
I woke up Tuesday to experience my 22nd birthday. I recieved a great deal of wellwishing by ppl passing in the hallway and my facebook wall swelled with birthday greetings aswell. I was even able to talk to my brother Seth as we found that both were on facebook, and i scurried off to call him early in the morning.
I walked into CAPA tuesday evening for my late afternoon class, and saw that the mail had arrived in my absence from school since that morning. Every last letter in the S-U section had my name scribbled on it. The enormous pile of letters and cards i harvested from the shelf brought raised eyebrows from everyone. Clearly a record! I enjoyed opening each one and savored their kind words and birthday wishes. I returned to my email to find similar posts and felt even more loved. That evening i went out with friends to dinner. I took the delibrate step of being photographed in front of the cathedral to record the beautiful conditions this birthday came to me with.
Wednsday too was full of normality of class and Florecnce life. Art history took me climactically to the Galleria Acedemia to see the famous David, which i have viewed on several other occasions under my own efforts. He did not, as he never will, disapoint.
I have some christmas shopping to finish up and hope to be done before the last week starts as its not something i want to be focused on in my last days here. That will probably take up my afternoon. This evening I will attend the CAPA student organized Christmas party that was advertised with a hand made sign on the bulletinboard, with the skill of a 2nd grader. Its appearence brought laughs as it is tenderly adherded with tape and created with scraps of colored paper and disregarded textbook covers.
I have tomorrow off, where i am sure to complete any shopping i dont this afternoon. The weekend sprawls before me with no real plans. Any loose ends i will tie up and sights unseen with be experienced. I may even -gasp- start to pack, its unbelivable that such efforts are actually now appropriate.
Anyway, this is likely the last i will write. I will be found in that red house in Chisago on December 15th, giving an excruciatingly long slideshow of my thousands of pictures surrounded by family and friends...and probably extremly shellshocked...something that might be lessened by christmas cookies.
I hope this finds you well. This experience is leaving me never better.
Arrividercci, Molto Amore -Corrie
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