August 14th, 2010
The rain from Milan arrived yesterday, filling the streets with cold water and making pedestrian navigation all the more difficult. Dodging puddles, mini lakes, and slippery cobblestones while shopping is even worse.
Jen, Hengli, and I head to the leather market of San Lorenzo. The stalls are all open, not phased by the hideous weather. The smell of newly crafted leather belts, purses, wallets and assorted other goods saturates the damp air. It is pleasant and enticing. I meander from stall to stall, avoiding the vendors that shout, "Ciao, bella!".
It is peaceful here--most of the tourists aren't willing to brave the rain to buy from street vendors. The sound of the rain falling on tarps sets a steady beat for my walking pace, allowing me to leisurely take it all in.
I had wanted to see the city one last time in all its summer glory today-- the buildings almost glowing in the Tuscan sunlight, tourists and Florentines jockeying to dominate the sidewalk, the piazzas bursting with life--but these two rainy days have provided me with something different. Umbrella in hand, I walk without a camera, absorbing Florence like a sea sponge, actually taking the time to look and enjoy, instead of document every second.
This is the intimate goodbye I needed two days ago. Time to really come to terms with reality, accept it, and be thankful and joyful for the experiences I have had. Who would have thought rain could be such a conduit for satisfaction?
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