From the smells of fresh pastries blazing through the air on a warm, sunny morning to the vibrant hubbub and personality of the city, Florence has truly grown to be a second home to me after living here for a month. However, my study abroad experience has exposed me to a myriad of different emotions, many of which have been unpleasant and difficult to handle without the comfort of my family, friends, and most importantly, the gluten-free bakery down the street from my house. As time passes and reality begins to set in, battling homesickness, FOMO, and the stresses of school, traveling, and budgeting simultaneously can feel quite stifling. Learning how to radically accept and welcome feelings of joy, excitement, anticipation, and pleasure to coexist with ones of anxiety and stress is key to making the most of your study abroad experience.
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 14th 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.
Surprisingly, my favorite part about living in Firenze was my walk to class. I took five classes in three different buildings spread across the city. The first building was home to my food and wine classes, the second my Italian class, and in the third, the main campus, I took my writing courses. I lived on Via di Santo Spirito on the other side of the river, so each walk to class took approximately 10-20 minutes. For each building, I had a different route that I gradually learned to take without the use of a map. Though the path I took to each building was different, each route had something in common: I got to walk over the Arno River and pass by multiple beautiful and historical landmarks along my way. This is why my favorite part of living in Firenze was walking to class. It produced a unique experience every single time.
On my way to class on Mondays, I crossed the river and was rewarded with the view of the Ponte Vecchio backdropped by hills in the distance. I then walked through the Santa Maria Novella square and got to see the masses of Italians and tourists coming and leaving the city. Just the other day, I was walking through the square when a group of approximately two hundred Italian soccer fans (as I deduced from their jerseys) walked by me, singing boisterously. I thought to myself, what an exciting place I live in – everything is happening here!
On Tuesdays, I walked along a similar path as Monday and I was treated to the same sight of the mist rising over the Arno River that seems to come straight down from the hills. I usually stopped in a small café to practice my Italian in a short conversation with the barista while ordering a cappuccino and blueberry muffin. While enjoying coffee in Italy is already such a different experience than having a coffee back home, it is made even more unique by the sights and smells of this city that I absorb while sipping my cappuccino.
On Thursdays I took an entirely different path to class. While crossing Ponte Vecchio, it is easy to forget that you are even on a bridge, unless you are in the center where you can see the water on both sides. A thought that has always astounded me while crossing this bridge is how my simple and direct walk to class takes me over the only bridge in Firenze that survived World World II. A simple walk to class became so much more to me, each day of the week.
