the end of florence

Florence post Vienna was basically a madhouse. All of a sudden, finals had crept up on me, meaning not only that i had a ton of studying to do but also that my days in Florence were coming to an end. Tuesday I had a presentation for the democracy class as well as our last bing dinner and Thursday we had our final for photo, an exhibition. It was exciting getting to see something tangible and creative that I had done. I am accustomed to my creativity expressing itself in live formats and now having a physical representation of my artistic talents to bring home is pretty cool. Friday, of course, was st. patricks day. Now, normally I would wear my green and have guiness in the celebratory spirit and continue on my way. But, I was rooming with the number one not actually irish irish girl. So, never one to disappoint, I rallied for the Florentine irish pub crawl. We drank guiness, sang irish songs accompanied by bagpipes, hit 5 different irish pubs and managed to do it all in Italian. That’s right…despite the fact that saint patricks day is not celebrated in italy, tess and I managed to keep our English speaking to a minimum. We befriended an Italian that tess appropriately named the Russian and spoke only in Italian to each other and jesse’s host cousin (his host mom’s niece). I think tess and I showed the Italians what saint patricks day is all about.

By the time the weekend rolled around I had one down and was knee deep in research for my final paper on accountability in iraq. Cue marco’s visit. I was so excited to see marco and get a chance to reminisce with him and emma about our quarter in dc. However his arrival was perfectly timed with my finals. He got in on Sunday and left Thursday. I planned on being done on Thursday. Top this off with emma’s 21st birthday on Tuesday and I was in a huge predicament. Basically, I pounded out the paper, crammed for Italian, did the necessities with art history and postponed the Italian paper until post celebration/reunion. I even managed to pack my bags, finish my gift shopping and buy the much needed extra suitcase. Wednesday night Stanford in Florence went out with a bang, taking over lochness with the help of marco and ayla. I pretty much partied like I didn’t have to write a five paged paper in Italian the next day.

But then I did. I sat at the center armed with pages and pages of research on Giacomo Puccini and his operas. My attempt to power through my paper was foiled by the entrance of brad and his sentiments on the end of Florence. Forget writing my paper, I could barely keep from crying. I spent all quarter telling myself that when it was over I would be so excited to get back to Stanford the transition would be smooth sailing. All of a sudden the thought of abandoning my Italian cell phone, forgoing cappuccino for nonfat vanilla lattes, not chatting with the mamma over a second helping of pasta, going to frat parties instead of a new Italian town every weekend and leaving italy hit me like a ton of bricks. But I sucked it up, returned the cell phone and began the trek home from the center for the last time. Goodbye ponte vecchio, goodbye Duomo. See ya later bus number 17 and asking “scusi, scende qui?”. Ciao mamma and Claudia and alessandro and Francesca and Cosimo. That night at dinner I lost it. The mamma could barely speak and then Claudia and alessandro came to say goodbye. I teared up. Tess and I stayed up until three pretending that we weren’t going to hop on our usual 8 am train and leave our quarter abroad in Florence forever.

The next morning a tearful goodbye and a promise to come back to the mamma as soon as we could sent us on our way. Despite the fact that we had yet to email our Italian papers, the quarter was over! We were officially on spring break! And where does one go when on spring break after a quarter in italy? The amalfi coast duh.

Not that fast, when I say we were going to the amalfi coast, I need to paint a little picture for you of what exactly that means. It means taking a huge rolling suitcase, 2 large carry ons a backpack and a purse (each) on the eurostar to rome. Dragging the aforementioned luggage to the baggage deposit at the train station. Leaving the suitcase and one carry on in rome. Hopping on a train to salerno. Getting your feet kissed as a small child asks you for money. Trying to figure out which bus goes to amalfi as you quickly being to realize that you are in the stereotypical italy from the movies. The kind where strange men flirt with you and snap your photo on their cell phone. The dirty, warm, sticky italy where you begin to wish you weren’t two young women traveling alone even though its 2 pm and full daylight. Then you finally make it on the bus only to be yelled at by a disgruntled old Italian man who isn’t happy that you have so much luggage. You proceed to take an hour long bus ride overlooking the most beautiful coastline you have ever seen but can’t enjoy it because the windy road and constant honking to avoid other vehicles is making you naseous. You finally make it to amalfi by an act of god and a seeming good Samaritan offers to help you carry your luggage but then asks what you are doing for the night. You quickly thank him and reclaim your luggage and then carry it up 8 flights of stairs to your apartment.

But then, we made it to the apartment of our dreams. It had 2 bedrooms, a living room, a couch, a kitchen and 2 terraces. One overlooked the main piazza and amalfi’s church and the other had a spectacular ocean view. Unbelievable. Thank you lets go! italy. After a good 10 minutes of awe, we set off in search of internet and food. Amalfi turned out to the cutest little beach town that ever was. After getting our internet fix, we stocked up on food and waited for emma and Lauren (her friend from high school) to arrive. About an hour later, they did, with three unexpected guests in tow. Somehow they had run into marco, ayla and her brother at the salerno bus stop. It really is a small world.