Lessons of Florence

In the opening moment, the protagonist is found in a cave hanging by his ankles, berating his fate. You see he always believed he was to be treated this way. That this is all he ever was or would be. No better. Deserved no more than this. The darkness. The walls. The rope. But one day, life found him and told him otherwise. That, indeed, he was a prince with a kingdom and subjects. But first, he needed to learn how to cut the rope, walk and earn his true place. . .

and that’s when he went on a journey where he learned that Life is indeed a dream from which we only think we awake when the alarm clock suona (makes a sound).

The other day I was in the backyard of my lovely friend, Clara, from Puglia. She and her boyfriend were having a good old fashioned American barbeque (but since I am a vegetariana I ate good old fashioned pasta!). There were a number of people from my life there…. Aaron my co-Artistic Director with his somewhat. …… younger… girlfriend. Tom our soon-to-be-ex-producing director (don’t tell him he - doesn’t know - but then if you did he still wouldn’t) and his somewhat…. younger…. girlfriend. And Frank . . . . senza wife. And me….. well, for now that’s enough. We must focus on Tim’s girlfriend. We must focus on her because she is somewhat…. younger… and has an interesting perspective on current events. And history. And …. well here is how it went:

Frank: So Julia, where ya from?
Julia: I’m Greek. But my mother is Turkish.
Frank: Really?
Aaron: I love Turkey. Was only there for two days though. Met these two great girls….
Julia: We hate the Turks.
Frank: What?
Julila: The Turks are fucking bastards! (let’s remember Julia is young, and says “fucking bastards” with that lovely genteel Greek accent)
Frank: But your mother is Turkish.
Julia: She hates them too. Fucking bastards! (it’s possible that Julia had a little to drink. We should probably also keep that in mind)
Aaron: Why?
Julia: They’ve ruined our country.
Frank: OUR country? I thought you were Greek.
Aaron: I really had a good time in Instanbul.
Julia: Fucking bastards! But they won’t keep it for long.
Frank: Keep what?
Aaron: They really know how to drink there…..
Julia: Because you know what the Germans do when they are upset.
Frank: The GERMAN’s? What do they have to do with Turkey?
Julia: They HATE the Turks too. Fucking bastards! (It’s at this point that Tom gently moves toward his lovely, albeit …. younger…. “Greek Princess” as he likes to call her and places his hand gently on her shoulder. In her genteel, mature manner.. she doesn’t get the hint and continues with a lovely smile on her face) Fucking bastards! But the Germans will get them.
Frank: I don’t understand what do you mean the Germans will “get them.” (Here it is important to note that Frank is not…. younger… and a professor of Art History, therefore… not dumb)
Julia: What do the Germans do when they get angry?
Frank: Why would they get angry?
Julia: Because the Turks are ruining their country… fucking bastards! The Muslim Turks… fucking bastards!(Tom’s hand is just slightly pulling Julia, lovingly, toward him in a subtle “shut up honey” manner…. but by my observations she…. Well… let’s listen in shall we?)
Frank: They are?
Bari: Actually, I heard this. (I want to see what will happen if I engage a bit and, besides, I DID hear complaints by some Germans about the feeling that the Muslim Turks were not assimilating and turning little beloved towns in Germany into little Turkish Muslim towns… apparently the Germans don’t like this. Can’t imagine why….)
Julia: Yes. Yes! See! But what do the Germans do when they are mad??
Aaron: . . . . They attack?
Julia: Yes! We are waiting for them to attack Turkey.
Frank: You are?!
Julia: Yes! Because the Germans will win and then they will give us back Istanbul. And we can have Constantinople again! Fucking bastards!
Frank: CONSTANTINOPLE??!!! (Frank, in an effort to hear better, downs his beer)
Julia: Of course.
Frank: Constantinople? You do know that Constantinople hasn’t existed since 1453?
Julia: The Germans will win.
Frank: This is what the Greeks are waiting for?
Julia: Yes. All of us! (said with pride of course. And a smile. The kind of pride that comes with the sweet bud of hopeful youth beautifully displayed by Tom’s “princess”)

There is a pause as all the “adults” in the group deal with their individual impression of the desires of “the Greeks” articulated by a 23-year-old-young-woman in the year 2006 in a back yard in Florence to bank on the service of the Germans to restore their kingdom of over 500 hundred friggin’ years ago!!!!!

I decide to break the silence… ridiculously enjoyable as it is….

Bari: You know, when I was younger I lived in a town called “Matawan” and then, one day for no reason at all, they called it “Aberdeen.” We were really upset about that.

Aaron laughs uncontrollably. Which I have to say I appreciated greatly. Frank stood there in utter shock. Tom….. well he plugged his Greek Princess with a sip of his drink which she took like mother’s milk. And I registered this as one of those interesting moments in my life which shows me that the world, truly, is in deep shit. But then again, maybe I’m just dreaming.

I do think I am dreaming most of the time. It’s hard not to when you live in Disney Land. Well, a medieval Disney Land filled with throngs upon throngs of happy tourists eating their gelato and flooding the streets, seeming to forget they are real streets with real motorini and buses and drivers that are trying incredibly hard to control themselves from the urge to not run them down. A Disney Land where ALL the buildings are the Magic Castle and the happiest place on earth is filled with Italian speaking shopkeepers many of whom resent the imposing presence of the very people that drive the economy of this great city. It is the contradictions that wake me up sometimes from the dream….. the dirt on the streets, the graffiti on the walls, the pollution, the screaming at 2 or 3 in the morning. Or myself. My brain which, even living in Disney Land, seems to insist on behaving as if I was still in LA. It pulls me back and tells me I’m wrong… that this was yet another mistake - my coming here - another Bari thing with big dreams and flying fantasies and my inability to settle down and bear children and be happy. Am I happy? That seems to be a running theme. That question. I don’t know. I had an incredible thought though today….. as I was walking past the Duomo and looking at its beauty and its pollution-covered stone walls…. I thought: “I don’t want to have children.” There it was. I really don’t. I never knew that before. I know it’s the truth because I was …. peaceful about it. I mean I like them enough. But I don’ t need to have them. And yet, I wonder if that thought is real…. if any thought is real…. or if they are all simply extensions of my current dream……

Speaking of….. tonight I just returned from a “Network” meeting. A gathering of English-speaking women who meet once a month, eat, support each other and listen to a speaker. Tonight was the director of Sacchi who spoke about a revolutionary school of painters in Italy, the macchioli (look them up, some WONDERFUL works and interesting history!). But before she began, I was introduced as a newcomer. I stood up and said: “my name is Bari Hochwald and I am co-Artistic Director of the Florence International Theatre Company.” I then proceeded to explain to them what we are doing, our plans, our upcoming inaugural season. And, as I spoke, the energy in the room brightened….. shifted quite noticeably. Was this really happening . . . .they all were responding exactly as Aaron and I have been dreaming they would…. they were starving for English language culture and letting me know it. So much so that….. they applauded. Was this a dream? I don’t think so because I had to keep from crying. That felt real….. Because, you see, even though I’ve been writing you about my non-dating life, my struggles with Italy, my apartment and washing machines, all that time, simultaneously, Aaron and I have been working extraordinarily hard every single day to establish the first professional English Language Theatre company in Florence. 3,000,000 tourists and 30,000 American students a year; 70,000 english speaking residents; Italians who speak English and crave exposure to it; and no theatre. This is my dream….. and when I heard that applause by the women in that room to the first “public” announcement we’ve yet to make, as little as it was, I wondered…… had I finally cut myself from the rope and learned not only to walk but to earn my true place in life? Am I on the path that takes me to my kingdom? I don’t know. I could be dreaming. Or I could be the co-Artistic Director of an emerging important cultural institution for Florence. Vediamo. (we’ll see).

Oh! My Italian instructor has insisted that for homework I find an Italian man to date. That it will help enormously with reflexive verbs (and one or two other flexible things I’m sure!). So, now that it’s an assignment . . . . I have a better attitude about it. I mean it’s compiti (homework) after all and I like being a good student. And guess what? I found a candidate. I met him at our sword-fighting class. He has nice eyes, hardly speaks any English, and touched my arm in this way when he said “ci vediamo” before leaving. I’ll keep you posted! (Don’t tell my mother though…. he is, of course, an ACTOR…..)

Want to see what my new apartment looks like? See photos! And, also the street upon which I live!

Ciao Ragazzi. Molti baci per voi!

Bari