Home

For the past few weeks I have been looking forward to going home. Much has happened both in Florence and Kansas City and I am ready for some time with my family and friends in KC. Last week, Matt and Colleen had their beautiful baby girl, and I was fortunate enough to have my wonderful friend Ali here with me to give me a hug and congratulate me on becoming an aunt. After four months of being here, I am ready to spend time with my family, to meet my niece, and for Pete's sake to watch a little KU basketball.

I was walking to babysit Lorenzo last week and had a profound revelation about the relativity of time and distance, and the concept of home. Since my bike got stolen, an incident I have yet to fully emotionally recover from, I have been on foot. When a sweet old lady on the bus gave my purse a big ol' push that sent me flying directly into the open arms of Signore Oogly McCreeperson, I swore off Florence public transit completely. As I was walking the 50 minutes to the other side of town, I wrote a Newsweek-worthy article in my head about how time and distance are merely perceptions. I can't remember the piece exactly right now but believe me, it was extremely profound. Here are a couple of the muddled and inarticulate thoughts that have been running around my little blonde head.

The past four months have changed my perception on many things, including both time and distance. I guess that's what happens when you up and move to Italy. Four months is a significant amount of time, but then again, it's gone by in the blink of an eye. While much has happened, really not that much has changed. There's a saying, and a lifestyle here, about the art of doing nothing. Italians are the masters of all art, but it's especially true about this one. My type-A personality had a hard time adjusting to four-hour dinners and 10 minute conversations with store owners that slowed down my morning commute. How can we just keep sitting at this table and talking about absolutely nothing? But I look back now and realize that all of those long conversations about nothing have taught me so much about many things. Food, art, culture, and how to tell someone to F-off using simple yet powerful arm gestures. I have learned to slow down, to appreciate time and relish in the beauty of the art of doing nothing.

As far as distance goes, I walked four miles to Lorenzo's and four miles back to Santo Spirito - eight in total. I live about a mile and half from work, which takes me normally 20 minutes to walk at a casual pace. Rome is an hour an a half from Florence by train, and Rome is 7 hours ahead of, and 5,230 miles from Kansas City, with travel time normally around 15 hours. But I have realized that all of the distances are nothing really. With one phone call I was in the hospital room with my niece minutes after she appeared. And with a simple click I am face-to-face with a friend just catching up. So while sometimes I feel so far away and disconnected, the reality is that I can be there and be present within seconds. The distance is not really that significant, only expensive.

The other thing I have been thinking way too much about and can't articulate either, is "home" in relationship to all of the above. When I think about going home to KC for Christmas, I get so excited and think about all the people to see and things that I want to do. But then I think just as much about how excited I am to come back home, to Florence, in January. They say that home is where the heart is, right? Well my heart is in both. I've been lucky enough to fall in love with Florence and to feel at home here. I have great friends and wonderful acquaintances. Yesterday while walking around the center, I ran into a store to say hello to Massimo, bumped into Luca and his Babbo at the market, said ciao to one of my favorite vegetable stand guys before running into Fabio clear on the other side of town. Here, if you don't visit your favorite bartender or waiter in two weeks, you will undoubtedly find yourself wrapped in a hug and sitting with them behind the bar catching up on life upon your next visit there. You will also know which streets and bartenders to steer clear of...

Yesterday made me feel more at home than any other day I have had so far. It started at 11 for a cappuccino and pastry with Shari and Christine. It was followed by a visit to the Bargello (home to Donatello's beautiful bronze David) then walks through the San Lorenzo market and Piazza della Repubblica with the fresh olive oil and pecorino cheese stands. In the evening, Shari and I went to Golden View Open Bar for an aperitivo before making it to Volume in Piazza Santo Spirito. Before I say this, let me explain that we don't frequent these places on a nightly basis. In fact we hadn't been to either of these places for more than two weeks, and not for at least two weeks before that! We walked in to Open Bar (which is on the Arno and overlooks the Ponte Vecchio and Uffizi Gallery) greeted by warm smiles from the bartender (who is too cute for his own good) and our favorite waitress. We sat for a while before Paulo, the manager, came over to say hello after remembering me from one previous interaction weeks before. We talked about business for a few minutes (how to do private wine tastings and special dinners for our apartment clients - see Lorenzo, I am always working!) before we decided that I should go see the wine cellar in order to better understand the product... We high-tailed it down the street and walked into a beautiful room full of wines that he has personally selected from all over Italy. He sat us on the couch, kicked out the legs on the recliner, and opened some extremely smooth grappa. This is why I love Italy. (Something I find myself saying fairly often.) 

We left Paulo and the cute bartender at Open Bar then went to Piazza Santo Spirito to check out the going-ons at Volume, another favorite spot. There wasn't much happening so as we were bailing to go check out another location, we were waved into Gusta Panini (a favorite sandwich shop of mine) by the owner. The shop was closed, but he waved Shari and I in to join him for a few minutes. I ended up getting behind the counter and putting together a masterpiece of eggplant, rucola, sun-dried tomatoes and ricotta that I tried to convince him to add to their regular menu. We sat for a while with amazing panini and wine just chatting before we were joined by Christine and some of the guys from the other restaurants. There is Gusta Panini, Gusta Osteria and Gusta Pizza all on one block in Santo Spirito. They're all wonderful and Andrea and I often go to Gusta Osteria on Sundays for some comfort food. (Mine is gnocchi alla gorgonzola. Mmmm.) But we pass by these guys all the time and always say hello and wave. So we sat there just chatting with the owners of the restaurants who were happy to share with us their food and wine and take up a bit of their busy evenings to sit and enjoy doing nothing. Again, this is why I love Italy.

So when I think about home and how far it is, how long it will take to get there, how much time I have to spend there, I miss it immensely. However, I feel extremely lucky that I get to feel this way about two places in the world, and have the opportunity and support to be in Florence and get to experiencing these wonderful things. I feel so fortunate that I get to call Florence home. I can't wait to see my niece, my puppy, family, friends, KU games, Chiefs games, the Brooksider and Hooper's and then some. But after all that, I am just as excited to return here... home.

Before I head back to KC, I'll post a link to my most recent pictures. If you got this far through my ramblings, I apologize. You have just lost 10 minutes of your day that you can never get back!

**Warning to KC people!! I would like to say this via blog rather than in face-to-face interactions: Please do not expect wine from me for Christmas. As much as I would love to share some of the extraordinary vinos that I enjoy on a regular basis, there is a three-bottle limit to checked luggage and the cost (just to ship a case!) is 150 Euros before even buying the 12 bottles to be shipped. So unless your name is Anne or Dave Roberts and you have been randomly donating small but helpful amounts of money into my bank account over the past four months, you won't see the three packed bottles either. Really sorry about that. But if you would like me to accompany you to the Red X or neighborhood Berbiglia to pick out a nice bottle, I'm happy to oblige.

See you soon!