I’m aware that no one read my last post, except for my dad who basically said “You’re being too negative, just tell more stories about Helen.” I apologize for the lack of Helen’s whimsical antics, but I think it’s necessary to give an accurate account of my time here, even if I’m grumpy. When you’re abroad, it’s easy to forget that you need down time, some time alone, or just any amount of time where a hundred percent of your senses are not totally overwhelmed. I don’t know a single college age kid who couldn’t use a 12 hour day in bed with Netflix to unwind every once in a while. That’s my justification for spending this entire weekend in bed. Especially since the weather has been gloomy, freezing, pouring rain for the past 5 days. The second you step on the street you’re soaked and cold and bombarded by street vendors trying to sell you an umbrella: “Ciao bella, umbrella???” even if you’re ALREADY HOLDING AN UMBRELLA.
Nope sorry can’t go outside
Everything is wet and nothing is dry
My point is that there’s a certain time in everyone’s semester, no matter what country they’re in, when they’re wiped out. As much as I hate to disillusion everyone, homesickness can still reach Italy. However, yesterday morning, I woke up from a terrifying nightmare where I was shopping at Sprouts in Albuquerque. I looked at my phone and it was December 23rd. I was home. I panicked because I had no idea how I got there, nor any recollection of my last 5 weeks in Florence. I never had the chance to do a billion things I wanted, nor shop for gifts for all my friends and family. It was a very literal wake up call to focus on the fact that my time in Italy is actually finite. I need to make sure I accomplish what I set out to do.
Like learning about the fresco painting process: removal and touch-ups
Actually Mario just does it for me
Mario has taught me so much about fresco painting, and certainly isn’t shy in letting me know when I’ve messed up. Except he usually uses more profane language, but in the most loving sort of way. He always has a pot of coffee with milk and sugar waiting for us as well as a silly story that none of us can really follow due to his impossible accent.
In addition to making and learning about art, volunteering in Italy was something I had certainly planned on doing. I finally received an email about an opportunity in an elementary school. A class of fourth graders wanted some English practice, so my school gave me the address and I set out across the river. I’m getting into a terrible habit of only getting lost while it’s raining. It took me 45 minutes to find the school after wandering in circles in the thunderstorm. I got directions from a nice man who I accidently convinced that I spoke Italian, and therefore completely understood his instructions. Which was not the case. I made it to school eventually, just in time for music class with two dozen Italian 9 year-olds. Their teacher was an older Italian man with long scraggly grey hair, and a long scraggly grey beard and bright pink suspenders. I listened to them sing a folk song they had just learned, and danced and played with them. It was the most fun I’ve had all week watching them be silly, and carefree and 100% in the moment. Since playing with kids is essentially the only thing I have on my resume, I was absolutely in my comfort zone. Only a handful knew any English at all, but it wasn’t important. We were mutually fascinated with each other, regardless of whether we spoke the same language: communicating was refreshingly simple. I’m so excited to go back next week, especially now that I know where the school is.
My portfolio
My actual art projects have been keeping me pretty busy, regardless of the downpour. Our Body Archives class is preparing for an exhibition of our own work at the Museum of Anthropology here in Florence. We have to learn about set up and installation, write a press release, title and caption our work, and have it all ready by December 16th. Which is not a lot of time. But if you’re anywhere near Florence that day, I expect you to be at the opening, because it’s a very big deal. My anatomical drawings will be showcased and I’ll be famous and rich forever.
Feed Me, Florence! 