So how do the local Florentines feel about the cast of Jersey Shore arriving in their city?
In a recent conversation:
Danny: I met Alessandro last week at the Red Garter
Me: Aww! Did you have fun?
Danny: Yes, I went with a couple of friends
Me: Meet some new Americans?
Danny: Yes lots of them. [The place], it's full. Especially now that the jerseyf***ingshore is in town.
Me: My apologies. They are horrible.
Danny: Yes. Yes they are.
With that out of the way...
This is the first time, in a long time, that I have felt connected to Italy. Walking down State Street in Madison, Wisconsin, there are little cafés with umbrellas. Just like those of the trattoria I would enjoy my Monday night dinners in. The street is so alive. Bars, restaurants, and theaters are separated by apartment entrances. The front doors aren't as dramatically beautiful as the palazzo doorways, but they are similar enough that ghost images of the Via degli Serragli enter my mind.
The warmth, the humidity. I wouldn't be surprised if the Arno river is behind a building, lazily meandering past the city, lending its unwelcome moisture to the night air.
I haven't enjoyed people-watching since leaving Florence, and finally I have found a city full of interesting people. Florence's gypsies are Madison's hobos; friendly, disheveled, harmless, but too clever to trust. The thin, model-like residents of Italy have been replaced with active, toned men and women. Though sense of style is lacking, Madison's citizens make up for it with their "Mid-Western Friendly" personalities. Walking from Paul's Club (my new haunt that features an indoor oak tree), there are couples holding hands, laughing and speaking in such hushed tones that I can almost pretend I'm back on Florence's streets. Friends chat together at outside tables, nursing drinks and sharing stories. Everyone has their group, but people still smile at one another, aware that they are all connected to each other through the perfectly clear night.
There is a gelateria in this town. They serve pistacchio gelato, almost as perfect as Gelateria Carraia. My office restaurant (the word cafeteria doesn't do the place justice) serves Nutella, cioccolato, espresso, frutta di bosco... (the list goes on) gelato Monday, Wednesday and Friday for $1. Just like the 1 Euro servings. A heavenly treat that takes me back to last summer.
Italy calls me. Every day. But for now I will enjoy the little tastes. The reminders of the glorious place my soul calls home. Because it is what it is--é quello che é. There is no way for me to get there any faster than I am managing right now. I will have a casa there soon enough. For now, I will enjoy my gelato, remember the bella vita of my dream land, and take advantage of all the amazing opportunities coming my way. Because a lush and full life is what la dolce vita is all about.