
Firenze: A Different Life, Part 3
Cars. I do not need a car in my life to feel happy. In fact, the opposite is true. They cost a lot. Don’t like shopping for them. I have bought three cars in my life – in 1997 and in 1999, as a single
Cars. I do not need a car in my life to feel happy. In fact, the opposite is true. They cost a lot. Don’t like shopping for them. I have bought three cars in my life – in 1997 and in 1999, as a single
The sun shone bright blocks onto the uneven flagstones of Via della Colonna. I pedaled my bike as fast and as carefully as I could, trying to not chip my teeth as the bumpy ride got the better of me. I was late. Borgo Pinti,
About a month ago, I decided that my time of intensive Italian language learning in student mode had run its course. All Italian, all the time: my brain, initially whetted by the grammatical explanations and structured conversations, had naturally transitioned to a feeling of relative
It’s the last day of summer, and Victor has now got three full days of first grade under his belt. He did seem to even out on Friday at some point during the day, because at home that evening he was chillin’ on the couch
I always hated the produce at the Norman Super Target, and yet that was, for years, our regular grocery destination. Nothing tasted like anything. Purchasing tomatoes or strawberries or plums felt more like a semiotic exercise than a reliably positive tastebud experience. You bit into
The longest summer break known to the whole of mankind came to an end yesterday as Victor began first grade today. September 15, people. By this time in the school calendar I had usually already been at school for a month and had drafted a
I feel increasingly at home in Firenze. The streets are slowly seeming more intuitive as I get around on bike and mentally plan my circuits through town. I know which caffes are welcoming, and which are better to just skip. I can source a good,
I have been hitting some major milestones in Italy with respect to language. I am modestly proud of my progress, challenged as it is now in midlife in ways that it was not when I was a university student. In the early and mid-nineties, my
The 9/11 anniversary for me will always mark the end of my international innocence. When flight and travel ceased to be my chief amusement and entertainment, and became a weapon of war. When the hatred between peoples became clear. When my little worldview was, in