Inspiring – Page 9 – Finding Florence

My Journal: A Priceless Souvenir

By Amber Wright

“I’m a fickle girl who falls in love easily. It’s happened about a million times since I started my study abroad journey four months ago. I get off the bus/plane/train and it’s love at first sight. No matter where I am, every street, corner shop, and coffee bar seem as if they’re covered in gold. In Siena, I fell in love faster than the horses ran in the Palio di Siena, and in Cinque Terre I could feel the warmth of the sun all through my body – at least for the ten minutes it was out. I’m in love, and I can’t imagine leaving this feeling behind.” – A reflection from my personal journal.

It wasn’t until a month after arriving in Italy that I realized I hadn’t actually bought any souvenirs. At first, I was a little bummed I didn’t buy a bunch of things from the places that I had been exploring, but as I thought about it more, I was thankful I didn’t. Being abroad did not have to be something I did to acquire things. I didn’t have the budget for that, nor did I want to have to carry pointless souvenirs. Instead, I had accumulated memories, feelings, and stories. I hadn’t wasted any time in souvenir shops, instead I was just present where I was spending money on museums and experiences rather than keychains.

I’m one of those individuals who has always kept a journal in some form or fashion. I also have a problem because when I see a new one that catches my eye, I have to have it – which also means I have about a hundred half-finished notebooks. My travel writing class here at FUA requires you to keep a journal for class, which I’m very thankful for. I get so caught up in the exciting day to day, that I often don’t take a breather or moment to reflect. Being held accountable on a constant basis, to journal makes me sit every so often and really reflect on what I’m seeing, doing, and encountering. I have a running list of “things I’ve learned traveling,” “places I need to go back to,” and “favorite memories.” I also have multiple entries about things I’m missing from home, things encountered that I dislike, and general grievances from that day. It’s me and my thoughts put down onto paper, and nothing could accurately represent my time abroad more than this journal.

My journal has actually become the best souvenir I could have asked for. In it now holds the memory of when I went wine tasting for the first time in beautiful Vinci in Tuscany, and I absolutely did not like the glass I had. In addition to my memories of living and studying in Florence, it contains the story of when I went to Portugal with my best friends and walked home in the rain, lost, but somehow wound up in front of a beautiful monastery. It holds the account of each outlandish costume I ran into in Barcelona on Halloween. My journal is also full of visuals – i.e. funny photostrips from the photobooth across from a favorite pizza slice stop in Florence – every photo features at least one friend taking an overly ambitious bite.

Other than the photostrips, I would say you can’t buy memories. Your thoughts and memories will last longer than any tee-shirt or key chain would. Invest in a journal and constantly reflect and write down what has been happening during your studies abroad. Keep a list of your favorite spots in Florence and jot down the funny moments you have with your friends on the train. Write down how the interior of Santa Croce made you feel, and what you thought about the view from the Duomo. Instead of just being able to say you’ve been to this place and purchased a trinket, a journal will reveal the true fruits of your experiences. It will safeguard your memories, thoughts, feelings, and lessons all associated with a new place, and it will be completely priceless.

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ACF Fiorentina: Florence’s Soccer Team

By Karla Silva

I grew up in a Brazilian family – we live and breathe soccer. It is like a religion. My parents would set their lives around a soccer game, adjusting their work schedules to watch an important match. There was no such thing as DVR to them– the game always had to be experienced in real time. Soccer games were a time of celebration, where family and friends got together. It was one of my favorite things growing up. And to see that embedded in the Italians, especially the Florentines, is a way to reconnect to my family.

I recently had the honor to go on a special tour of the Stadio Artemi Franchi, home of the ACF Fiorentina soccer team thanks to my Writing for Digital Media course at FUA. You can feel the pride of the stadium’s management team as you walk through the VIP entrance, with its bright white walls and the elegant symbol of the team adorning them: a purple fleur-de-lys inside a gold-lined diamond.

We quickly made our way to the media room, where the press gather together after each match. You can imagine the intensity of representatives of different media outlets fighting to get their questions asked, one jumping over the other to get their burning questions asked for their article.

It takes a lot of work to get a team popular enough for there to be a need for the media room, let alone an audience to watch the game, and we have the team’s Digital Media department to thank for that. To get the word out via countless social media channels and put out content that will appeal to fans of all ages isn’t an easy task. It takes hard work that many do not realize. It made me wonder how much effort truly goes into getting a game to run smoothly, or to construct a large fan base for the team as we make our way out of the media room and into the stadium itself.

I’ve always felt that the locker room is a sacred place for the players. It’s where they get ready, prepare for the upcoming match. They talk strategies, spread words of encouragement. It’s their home. Their private space. And entering that space allowed us to see a personal side that no other fan is able to see. It felt like we were in on a secret that everyone wanted to know.

The Florentines value the sport of soccer, which goes hand in hand with family. It’s impossible to walk down the streets of Florence without seeing a splash of purple here and there. To have the opportunity to walk on the field that the Florentines value so much was an experience I’ll never forget. Though the stadium is on the smaller end, seating around 45,000+ fans, it felt expansive underneath the glowing setting sun. Back home, whenever there was a game, it was always a party. Family and friends, friends of family and even neighbors get together celebrate. The spirits are always high, the energy constantly flowing.

Seeing the stadium empty and quiet, was a new feeling for me. You visualize the loud and high energy of a full stadium in comparison. The lack of cheers and chants made the stadium seem almost peaceful, like the quiet before the storm. We were even given the chance to sit on the players’ bench, which was the perfect end for our visit. Being able to experience the field from the player’s angle was unforgettable, a viewpoint that only a certain select few get to see.

One thing that I noted during our visit was the amount of people it takes to operate the stadium. The fans don’t always know, and neither did I, that the game consists of so much more than just the players. From the coach to the stadium manager, the commentators, the digital media specialist, even the workers who keep the field in top conditions – all of these individuals support the needs of the players and the game itself. The backbone of the stadium is just as important as the team.

I am forever grateful for this opportunity that I have been given. Soccer is a big part of my life and to be able to walk through the inner workings of a stadium and witness how the entire range of stadium workers connect to put on an amazing game for fans was a unique experience that I will cherish.

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Florence in the Rain

By Jess Pitocco

A typical day in Florence looks like this: the Duomo is never shrouded by clouds, the sun always makes the bronze ball on the top of the cupola shine like gold, the streets are filled with bustling people, and in each doorway, a new delicious smell entices you. Florence may seem like just another city of dreams; however, what does it look like when it’s raining?

The contrast can be quite stark, actually. The streets slowly get less crowded as the sky opens up. Ponchos and umbrellas are sold at every corner. The whole city feels like it is in a shadow as people try and find shelter from the storm. And just as the rain pours down and splashes you, the sun peeks through the clouds and you see blue sky. But only for a moment. The rest of the day is cloudy, on and off rain, making the Duomo as gray as the sky.

I find solace on these rare rainy days at small cafes, preferably on a side street. I usually throw on sneakers and try to get through the puddles without making my socks too wet. The rain boots I bought for this occasion have a hole in the sole and are useless when it gets stormy outside. I fast-walk, bringing my backpack and hope that the wifi works today.

Depending on how I feel, I get a cappuccino, coffee, hot chocolate, or tea. It makes my hands sweat and fogs my glasses, but it’s so comforting to me in my soggy clothes that I don’t care. I usually get a snack while I sit and do homework. Sometimes I read, or just relax. At home, where I’m from, rainy days are designated movie/cinema days. Here, I will happily settle for a cute cafe, some sweet treats, and a good book.

Florence, before arriving, had never seemed like a cold season city to me (a fellow FUAer shares how to spend a winter day alone, btw). However, a rainy day can sometimes bring a fall-like atmosphere to the city. People bundle up, briskly walk back and forth to escape the rain; it reminds me of the snowed-in streets of New England where people do the exact same with snowflakes. Either way, some of the gloomiest looking days in Florence make me feel most connected to the city. I found a good reading spot, my favorite coffee, and a comforting ambiance to a city that is most of the time lively and exciting. Rainy days here aren’t sad; they are calm, introspective and more enjoyable than you’d expect. What’s your favorite rainy-day spot?

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My Love of Slow Tourism

By Amber Wright

I’m a slow tourist. You won’t see me power walking from monument to monument or rushing to get through a museum because there are still three other places I need to get to that day. This is the main reason that studying in Italy was right for me. At the start of my program I had four whole months to see Italy for what it really is. I had 106 days to get to know the heartbeat of the city and understand the area.

The art and detail put into everything in Italy is astounding. You can’t capture this with your camera and you won’t be able to see it all with a short walking tour through city center. I walk by the Duomo every day, twice a day, and because of my busy schedule between classes and my experiential learning tasks, I never really stop to admire it. I glance up and think how beautiful it is, but that’s the extent of it. Because I walk by these monuments so often, I tend to take them for granted, and I have to intentionally take time to go experience them and just be engrossed by the beauty.

As for my slow tourist style and as weird as it sounds, steps are my favorite thing in Italy. I love sitting on the steps of Santa Croce in the morning, before all the other tourists wake up, and then heading to Piazza Della Signoria for the Fountain of Neptune. The steps of Santo Spirito are the perfect place to enjoy a pizza at sunset and the steps of the Duomo at midnight are worth missing a few hours of sleep for. These steps are where I sit for hours, slow down, and take in every detail of Florence.

As for seeing every detail, Stendhal Syndrome is real. It’s a funny diagnosis of being absolutely overwhelmed by beauty, and it’s hard not to believe its real. However, when it was first diagnosed, it was to tourists who had spent all day in the heat, running from place to place, looking up at the monuments. Its no wonder they felt dizzy.

Don’t rush to do everything, like the diagnosed tourists, just to say you did it. Take time to experience and be in the moment of the places you go. Slow down and etch the details of Santa Croce, The Fountain of Neptune, and Duomo into your memory – these are the moments you will take home with you and remember forever.

Time may feel like its against you, but Italy isn’t a sprint. As a student here, my time is a marathon that I’m soaking up every moment of.

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Filistrucchi: Fake Beauty, Real Tradition

By Melissa Maize

Filistrucchi is a Florentine institution that makes the ordinary, extraordinary. FUA Digital Writing students recently visited the historic theater makeup laboratory and shop.

If you could be anyone, who would you want to be?

If you could swap faces, swap lives, even for only day, who would you choose? A Duke, a Duchess, Abraham Lincoln? Lady GaGa? At Filistrucchi, you can be anyone.

We all have little things about our appearance we’d like to change- smaller nose, thicker hair, higher cheekbones- and Filistrucchi was built on that need. Established in 1720, it catered to Florentine nobles, providing wigs and make up to suit their stylistic needs. It then developed into one of the leading make-up and hair providers to the Opera and stage, and later cinema. Gaining notoriety as masters of their trade, their clients soon spread as far as New York and Boston.

Perusing photos of their work, the shop owners recount stories of how they transformed men into women, women into men, old into young, the transformations often so complete that the clients’ families didn’t even recognize them.

It’s amazing to think that all that stands between you and complete anonymity is a few layers of make up. It seems to me that Filistrucchi has survived three hundred years and two epic floods not because beauty is timeless, but because the desire to look beautiful is.

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The Love Affair of Dante and Florence

By Amber Wright

Every time I walk down a corridor of the Uffizi, I look Dante in the eye. I bitterly and sarcastically thank him for making me work so hard in the literature class I took my senior year of high school. Oh, The Divine Comedy. I still have the poem on my shelf back in California with copious amounts of notes in the margins, yet somehow I completely forgot Dante himself was a Florentine. Now living in the city’s center, it seems I cannot walk down the road without metaphorically looking Dante in the eye.

It’s not hard to miss the admiration Florence has for the poet. According to FUA faculty member Marta Russo, there are over 100 references to Dante throughout the city. He had a love affair with Florence as you can see in his poems. However, it was not always like this. In Florence, he was involved in a political struggle between the Guelphs and Ghibellines, and these rival parties disagreed on who should hold power in Italy. The Ghibellines supported the Holy Roman Emperor and the Guelphs were in favor of the Pope. Dante himself was a Guelph and was eventually exiled for it, but you wouldn’t know by Florence’s current celebration of the poet.

The most obvious places to see Dante in Florence are the Uffizi – in the museum’s outdoor gallery of statues – and in front of the Basilica of Santa Croce. As mentioned previously, Dante was exiled from Florence for his political stance among the Guelphs. He never returned, and was buried in Ravenna – this is something Florence is still trying to cope with. According to Prof. Russo, the cities to this day disagree over where his bones should rest. While he isn’t actually buried there, Santa Croce still houses a tomb in his honor.

This love struggle isn’t one-sided: Dante loved his city back then as much as it loves him now. The father of the Italian language references Florence in many passages in The Divine Comedy. In Canto XXVI, Dante proclaims, “Florence, rejoice, now that you have such fame, and over land and sea you spread your wings! The whole Inferno’s ringing with your name!”

He may have been exiled, but his ties to Florence were undying. In fact, if Dante had not been exiled, he may have not written The Divine Comedy at all, says Prof. Russo. It was his exile that made Dante realize and understand his great love for his city. He was able to step back and fully understand the greatness of where he was from, and essentially intertwine this passion into his poem.

Dante and Beatrice, painting by Henry Holiday

Today, Florence honors Dante with plaques and statues around the city. They are its olive branch to the great poet, and a way to preserve his great history. I see this preservation not only when I visit the Uffizi, but also when I walk down Via Guelfa. I see his legendary presence on the corner where he first saw his true love Beatrice and am reminded of the ultimate love story that Dante lived, with his native city.

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Cinque Terre-ible Weather

Rain in Cinque Terre, photo by the author.

By Amber Wright

Every photograph, video, and snap chat I have ever seen of Cinque Terre has been stunning. The colors of the buildings, the waves breaking on the rocks, and the sun shining down on the tourists makes it the perfect destination, and I finally had the opportunity to experience it for myself.

However, the sun wasn’t shining, and the water seemed to be more of a sea monster than just the Mediterranean sea. This area is constantly in danger of mudslides and the hiking trails were closed off for the rain that seemed to never stop falling. My weekend that was supposed to be picturesque and dream-like, now had the potential of being ruined by the Cinque Terre-ible weather.

Thankfully, I was sitting at a covered cafe as the rain came down and was able to just take it all in. I surprisingly loved the rain. I felt that the weather was a nice change from the sweltering heat, and my friends and I were not about to let a few raindrops keep us from the sea. It was surreal swimming in the mediterranean for the first time, during a storm no less, and the view of Monterosso from the water was magnificent. I now understood the raving reviews and why this coastal town deserved to be a protected site.

Sanctioned by the United Nations, a World Heritage Site like Cinque Terre is deemed so for its cultural, scientific, or historical significance. Therefore, it’s unsurprising that Italy, being the beautiful and rich country it is, has the largest number of these UNESCO protected sites.

The symbiotic relationship between man and nature is captured in the complex structure and architecture of each village. The steep hills and cliffs are dotted with buildings and agriculture that have been perfectly constructed to withstand the treacherous coastal area.

Monterosso and Vernazza were the first of the five villages built in the eleventh century. The following three villages were soon developed, and later reinforced with barricades and defence towers to combat the attacks from pirates. By the 15th century, Cinque Terre, or “five villages,” was the local term for the villages, and it was known for it’s excellent vino, produced to this day by incredibly determined farmers whose vines seem to grow vertically from the precipitous inclines. Progress halted in the area when mudslides destroyed the local agriculture, but recovered in the mid-18th century. Fast forward to 1997 when it became a protected area and to 1999 when it was officially named a national park. Today, accessibility is limited in Cinque Terre, and other than a train between the five villages, modern infrastructure has had only a hidden presence in this area.

It’s one of the most photographic areas in Italy, but there is so much more to experience than what you’ll see through the lense of your camera or behind your iPhone. Take a look around and understand why this area is deeply cherished. Look up and see the local old ladies people-watching from above, or take the hike to see the sweeping views from above. Take a dip to feel the warmth of the sea and try your hardest not to swallow the brackish water. Climb the stairs to the top of a watch tower and imagine being under attack by pirates.

Lastly, if the weather is bad, embrace it. Not only did the rain not ruin my trip, but it added to the excitement and memories that I’ll have forever. The history and beauty easily shines through, and I cannot wait to go back.

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Stepping Back from the Lens: Florence Through My Eyes

Palazzo Corsini from the Arno River, photo by the author.

By Ryanne Doherty

We all take photos. It’s a part of living in the digital age; everyone keeps a camera right in his or her pocket, and we can capture and share memories in an instant. As convenient as this is, there is a drawback.

Seeing the world through a camera lens can take away from fully experiencing a moment. It causes a person to merely see an image inside a cropped area. By focusing only on the visual, the sounds of a city, the smells of bakeries, and the feel of the air on one’s face are often overlooked.

I am just as guilty of this practice as anyone else. I will walk around Florence’s city center and take a picture of the Duomo or Santa Croce and ignore all other surroundings. For a Writing for Digital Media class assignment, I was actually required to get lost in the city and look only for the visual aspects of Florence. Through this, I was able to see in more detail but unable to fully feel the atmosphere around me.

For an hour, I explored new parts of Florence, but it’s hard to describe where I was. Taking pictures on my old Canon was my only focus and goal. This goal, I believe, caused me to miss out on a full Florentine experience as a new resident of the city.

The following day, however, my focus changed. With my class, I had the opportunity to experience the Arno River with the I Renaioli association. I took a few photos, but for the most part I tried to concentrate on more than just what I could see.

It was a sweltering day in September, and I had already broken out into a sweat on the walk to the riverbank. After a couple minutes on the water, however, a cool breeze shielded the hot sun, and I cooled down significantly. This was a breeze as I had never felt in the city center. Here, I realized the one of the coolest places in Florence at any time may in fact be the surface of the Arno, and I regretted not having taken this excursion earlier.

Paolo, the association representative who rowed the small wooden boat named the Ghibellino, recounted the Florentine history that surrounds the Arno. Some of the history was familiar to me, like the path of the Vasari Corridor through the Ponte Vecchio. Some information was new, like the history and utility of Palazzo Corsini, which is best seen from the Arno. Paolo’s voice was punctuated by the trickle of water as the oar cut through the river or his occasional whistles to rowers ahead of us as we made our way under bridges.

We docked again after an hour or so on the boat, and it was then that I decided I should step away from the camera from time to time. In the week that has passed since then, I have found myself trying to focus on the entire atmosphere of where I am – while it’s nice to have the photos, it is the desire for a new experience that drives us to have an adventure.

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Il Palio: More than a Horse Race

By Monica Humphries

For us, it was a fun race, but for others, it was an event they had waited for all year. From the moment we stepped off the bus in Siena, we learned what the Il Palio means to the city.

Il Palio is horse race held twice a year in the heart of Siena. Piazza del Campo, the city’s main piazza, transforms into a race track. Dirt is packed down on the cobblestone, and fences are built to create the course. The city is divided into 17 districts (contrade) but only ten districts will compete in the race. The jockeys ride bareback and wear their district’s colors. Throughout the day parades and celebrations take place to prepare for the race. The horses are blessed, the bets are made and everyone gathers to the center for the race to start.

The race isn’t about coming in first but about beating your rival. Everywhere you look you see people with colorful flags tied around their necks, cheering for their district. To truly embrace the race, I picked the Tartuca district to cheer for and wore a yellow and blue flag embellished with a turtle, the district’s symbol.

As thousands trickled into the city center, anticipation slowly built up. The race was three simple laps around the track. Months have gone by in anticipation for those three laps.

Above the crowd I could see the brightly colored jockeys ready to race. Decked in black and white, yellow and red, or blue and white with distinguishing patterns, they all sat on their horses pacing for the start. The rules of the Il Palio involve a complicated tradition for starting the race, so it could start at any moment.

Twenty minutes passed, a shotgun was fire and the race had begun. We could feel a gust of air as the horses passed us. We felt the dirt kicked up from the horses’ hooves. We watched as the horses circled the track and competed to finish first.

When the first horse from the Lupa contrada crossed the finish line, the entire town erupted into emotion. The district hadn’t won a Palio since 1989 so emotions ran high. Immediately people were jumping over fences to congratulate the winning jockey and hug their friends and families. Tears of joy ran down some faces, while others cried with disappointment. Tensions broke out, people hugged and the race was over. People paraded down streets in celebration, while our group stood in amazement. The race itself was incredible, but the aftermath left us in shock. This wasn’t a silly race, but a long-lasting tradition built up over centuries. People took pride in their district and celebrated their culture.

The race itself was short but the day was long. Seeing firsthand a tradition that dates back to the 14^th century isn’t an opportunity I come across often. On one hand, it was amazing getting to be a part of the tradition. But on the other, I still felt like an outsider. I had no investments in the race, but felt the heart rise as the horses cross the finish line. At the start of the day, the Il Palio felt so foreign to me, but by the end, I had grasped a better understanding of a city and its culture.

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My Transition Place: Arno River & Carraia Bridge

Photo of Ponte alla Carraia by the author

By Monica Humphries

When you step out of your apartment for the very first time, it’s a whirlwind of emotions. You feel enthralled to be in a new place. You feel excited for what the semester has to offer. You feel anxious, confused and eager.

I felt nervous.

Yes there were positive emotions, but buried not-so-deep were my nerves. I was in a foreign country, and the car ride to my apartment left me feeling like I was on the other side of the world.

I can vividly remember our driver taking all 7 students to their apartments. The first one was dropped off right past the Duomo, the second two near the San Lorenzo, a few more in the city center. Then there was me. I could remember crossing a river, going up and down the one-way streets, and finally pulling into a narrow, bike-filled lane right up to apartment number nine. After what must have been a half hour, I was home, but I wasn’t happy.

Although I was just on the other side of the river, I felt like there was a wall dividing me from all of my classmates. I stepped out onto the cobblestone street and immediately was lost. I stumbled my way through the streets until I found the Arno.

Since that first afternoon, the Arno, more specifically the Ponte alla Carraia, which is the bridge that leads to my street, has become my favorite place in Florence.

No matter where I was coming from – class, dinner or a cappuccino, all I had to do was find the river, and I knew exactly where I was. Since moving to Florence, the river is not only beautiful, but it has also become my safety net. A safety net that encourages me to explore and challenge my surroundings.

Curious about the Arno’s history and bridges, I talked to Giulio Vinci, a professor at FUA.

Vinci started at the very beginning. Florence was founded and controlled by the Romans. Romans generally build their cities in the valleys, so Florence followed this tradition and was built in a valley close to the river.

The city was structured in a rectangular shape with two central roads crossing through the city. The city was close to the water, but Florence wasn’t directly on the water, so there wasn’t travel between the sides of the river. Florence began expanding, and the Ponte Vecchio was the first bridge across the Arno. The first occurrence of the bridge was in a painting in 996.

The Ponte alla Carraia bridge is the second oldest bridge in Florence and known for its history of collapsing. Built in 1218 by architect Lapo, it collapsed for the first time in 1274 because of a flood. The bridge was originally built in wood, but it was rebuilt in stone. However, the stone was strong enough to support a crowd and collapsed again. In 1333 another flood struck Florence, and the bridge was once again destroyed. The most recent collapse was during WWII when it was bombed to prevent passage of allied troops from the Nazis in retreat.

Vinci said that tourism has exponentially grown in the past 20 years, and now Florence is a key location for visitors. He made a point to express that the river and its bridges always attract tourists. Florence is known for its concentration of art, and the bridges are a part of that art. But not everyone, unfortunately, is interested in the art and history behind the bridges, and many prefer to simply use the bridges are picture spots. We’ve lost the meaning of tourism, and traveling today is vastly different from the young aristocrats of the 18th century who often went on year-long Grand Tour to discover the culture of European cities.

Thinking about what Vinci shared helped me appreciate my time here. Sometimes three months seems like forever, but with a city that has enough history for a lifetime, I’m thankful that I will have a chance to immerse myself and retain the details I learn about this city.

Walking home from the interview gave me a chance to reflect on my time here. Although it’s only been a month, I can now continue to expand my safety net to the entire city of Florence.

The bridge is a place of comfort but it’s now a place of curiosity. Each time I walk across the bridge I notice a new detail. I question the statue at the entrance, the crack along the pavement and the windows in the Ponte Vecchio. The comfort I have now encourages me to explore. It’s important that every student finds their Ponte alla Carraia. Whether it’s the San Lorenzo church or carousel in Piazza della Repubblica, we need a monument or location where we feel at home. But part of home is knowing its history and why it’s there. Yes, the pictures we take are important, but the history behind those photographs enrich our experience so much more. Take a second, learn about the area you call home, because you might end up loving the city just a little bit more.

I find comfort in the bridge because that’s where I find confidence. Confidence with directions, confidence in knowing there’s the best gelato place right around the corner, confidence that there will be a beautiful sunrise in the morning and an even prettier sunset at night. Learn about the landmark you call home, and you might end up finding a little confidence in a city full of new experiences.

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