Chanting monks at sunset

Four times a day, there are monks chanting in San Miniato al Monte the basilica on top of Piazzale Michaelangelo.  So at sunset today, I climbed up the hill to listen to them.

The cemetery at San Miniato al Monte

It was this sort of ethereal religious experience.  Sitting in the basement of a church on top of a hill overlooking an ancient city of art listening to monks sing Gregorian chants.  There were beautiful painting on the ceilings, and Latin verses were carved into the marble on the floor.

But there was also this intangible human element to it.  One of the monks showed up late, rushing into the room, his robes lifting up just a little to expose the fact that he was wearing Birkenstocks and socks.  He kept rifling through the pages of his songbook looking for the particular page the other monks were on.

There was another monk who could not stop smiling, like the seed of the music had wormed its way deep inside his soul, and he could not stop the light from spilling out through his grin.  He was young, he had not yet learned to look somber while he sang.

This picture reminded me of some photography I'd seen on Dad's Tumblr

On the walk home, the sun was setting.  And there is nothing more beautiful than disappearing light and city and river all rolled into one.

Yumm :) A post monk chanting treat.

The city at sunset.

Hanging up pictures means I'm here to stay

Yesterday, I finally tracked down a cartoleria and bought some masking tape so I could hang up my pictures.

The other day, I was hanging up my laundry and I accidentally dropped a piece of underwear over the edge of our balcony.  And it's stuff like that, the mundane everyday things like buying my groceries and saying "no grazie" to the cashier when she holds up a bag and asks "borsa?" that make me feel like I really live here.

I just wanna blog about food

I live in Italy, the land that invented pizza.  So yeah, I'm eating well.

The produce at the market is enough to make any girl die of fresh fruit love.  But I'm from Alaska.  So that plus 900 million.  It's like everything I eat here is imbibed with some sort of magical Italian deliciousness.  Except bread, all the bread so far is really dry.

Anyway, here is some food photography of my creations.  Enjoy!

Strawberries, raspberries peaches, granola, nutella, and gelato.

Stracitella yogurt, my Italian obsession.

Stir frying eggplant and tomatoes for dinner

Stew beef, eggplant, tomatoes, and basil with bread, pesto, and brie cheese

Lemon yogurt, strawberries, nutella, granola, and basil

My least favorite market woman, and my favorite market man

My least favorite market woman is an old, grumpy German woman.  When I ask her how much raspberries are, she tells me €2, even though €1.50 is written right next to the berries.  And once, when I tried to buy basil from her, she kept talking to me in indecipherable Italian, and eventually took the basil and put it somewhere else so I could not buy it.

I ended up buying basil from a man who is now my second favorite basil selling vendor.  My first favorite basil selling vendor is out of basil a lot.

My favorite market man sells me peaches and sometimes strawberries, when he has them.  He's a middle-aged Indian man, and I point at the strawberries, and say "Cuanto cuesta?"  And then he tells me €1.50, and I tell him no, €1, and he says €1.25.  We go back and forth, and I don't always know what is happening because my Italian is molto male.  And I probably pay too much for my strawberries, but I feel better about it in the end.

Sometimes, my favorite market man smiles really wide and gives me a little banana for free.

Florence at night

If I think about it, I've never really enjoyed a city at night.  Anchorage in the summer is always daytime, and in the winter there's no outdoor nightlife (let's get real here).

So possibly because it's all so new to me, I am in love with Florence at night.  I could spend my whole entire life in the Piazza della Republica after sunset listening to the street performers and watching happy kids riding on the carousel.

Not to mention, Ponte Vecchio at night?  Beautiful, amazing, magical, and so many other descriptive words.

Tonight, two of my roommates and I went off in search of the Boboli Gardens around sunset, and ended taking a couple stops along the way.  Actually a lot of stops, we never ended up at the gardens.  But we did some good documenting!  Here's the products of our night:

 

I LOVE FLORENCE AT NIGHT.

Adjustment period moments

The last week has been full of moments that I really only describe as adjustment period moments.

Like on Monday, when it took me a good three hours to make my way from the ISA office to FUA.  A trip that should have taken eight minutes tops.  I just kept wandering in circles, and ending up in the Pizza Signora.

Or on Tuesday, when my Italian class took a field trip to the market.  And my professor said "You have 20 minutes to look around."  So I spent twenty minutes buying tomatoes and cheese and bread, and then I realized my class was nowhere to be found.

Or a few days ago, when I was making a list in my head of reasons to move back into a tent while a bunch of girls had a conversation about dying their hair that lasted close to an hour.

Or yesterday when I was making salad and I accidentally mistook Amy's bottle of wine for a bottle of olive oil, and then my salad tasted weird.

Or earlier today when I went into my first ever high end designer store ever and started laughing out loud when I saw a price tag for 280 euro hanging out on a fairly weird looking necklace.

Adjustment period.  You know.

Pictures of Italy

Roma, Italia

Oh you know, just chillin at the Colosseum 

Fontana de Trevi

The Spanish steps

First night in the apartment

Um, is this real life?

Doin' ma laundry like an Italian

Bedside table

Ponte Vecchio from Piazzale Michangelo