Monday April 18, 2011

The streets are starting to fill up with tourists.  As the cafe’s get more and more crowded each day, I can’t help but be grateful that I have lived here for 3 months.  Even though each day I find a new hidden treasure, such as a restaurant or a cafe, I am no longer wandering the streets with my head looking up at all the beautiful buildings.  Sometimes I don’t even notice the Ponte Vecchio because I have become so accustomed to seeing it every day.  And just lately, seeing all the tourists with their backpacks and cameras, I no longer feel like a tourist, and am starting to feel like I actually live and belong here. The checkers at Il Centro recognize me, and the baristas at Pazawski’s and Astor know my name and order.  But all good things come to an end, just when I am starting to feel like I belong here, it’s just about time to pack up and leave.  I always felt comfortable here, and I never once missed California (though I do miss dill pickles and Mexican food which are few and far between here) but when I leave Florence and travel to places like Spain over spring break, or Rome for the weekend, I fell a little homesick for my beloved, problem-prone, closet of an apartment on “Piazza Salvemini, quindici” with the seven best roommates and the five best friends that I could have asked for.  And when I’m feeling down, I know that the old men on the street corners playing their hearts out on their accordions will be there and still, sometimes, I stop and watch for a second, because I know that there is nowhere else in the world like that.  Nowhere like Firenze.