Lessons of Florence

You see, although this is - in actuality - not going to happen any time soon, it has been in my mind pretty powerfully lately. I don’t think we ever discussed Florence. I’ve made small, sometimes slightly amusing disparaging remarks about one of the most famous and important cities in the world. I’ve, obviously, as countless others been drawn to her for her beauty, her art. But to live here…… as I told my friend who came for a day last week…… “visiting and living… two very different things.”

But why? Why is it so difficult?

Is it because this town hasn’t changed in hundreds of years? Because the Florentines live up to their reputation of being the most “chiusi” (closed) people in all of Italy (and, from my personal experience of the last ten months - I am going to make the blatant statement of “the world”). Is it the Italian - and worse so with Florentine bureaucracy - habit of complicating the way of doing absolutely everything while achieving nothing? (or let’s give them…. while achieving very little) Is it the ingrown, culturally immobile, almost-pridefully-grasped-onto pessimism of the Florentine? Italians are pessimistic…. and I know now having lived here less than only ten months …….. they have absolutely no reason not to be. And, when you add the flavor of “Florentine” into the mix…. there’s a pleasant way to spend a lifetime!

Why are they so pessimistic? Well, because they don’t trust anything - the government, the corporations, each other. You see, when you make a deal here, an arrangement with someone or even a business agreement, you must always take into account whatever they are saying they will do, they won’t or they are not telling you everything or they can change their mind at the blink of an eye (and sometimes forget to tell you). You must think about - immediately - when starting a business all the ways you can create a financial and organizational structure in order to …… circumvent certain realities here. For example - along with your commercialista (accountant) create your business plan to contain as much tax evasion as possible or there is no way you can actually afford to open your business, run it and employee people, let alone make a profit. Part of that reason, I am told, is that the Italian government, in its assumption that you will cheat on them, create systems and demands to counter that. Guilty before proven innocent. So you have to spend more time and energy getting around them. You have to, essentially, become a criminal. That’s the norm here. And that lack of trust and entrance into the criminal career path can be pretty exhausting. That can make you pretty pessimistic. And fearful.

Which I find most Italians are. The government of Florence is. Many of my Italian friends here are. Change frightens them. New people frighten them. New ideas. Most innovative and forward thinking changes in Florence come from “straniere” (strangers - foreigners). Not from the Florentines. And not only don’t they initiate change. They don’t encourage it. And the amazing thing is - from my small, American mind - they can’t see anyway out even though they complain incessantly about the very thing they are doing to keep themselves, their town, and everyone around them from moving forward.

My friend Anna and I (Anna is Swedish. (see photo with her very cute boyfriend) Tall, blonde and beautiful….. therefore a curiosity to everyone we pass on the street. I always am amused at the looks she gets….. Italians really MUST get out more!). Anyway, Anna and I went in search of positive energy — of any energy yesterday in this town that is not dormant, not deadened, not …. lacking. We discovered something very important. This town has beautiful fountains, most of which are not functioning. There is no water flow here - not in front of Santa Croce, not at the feet of Posiden in Piazza Signoria, not at the drinking fountains near Palazzo Pitti. We did find a fountain functioning in Piazza Santa Spirito and went up to it with great joy only to find it full of garbage. Florence is a town resting on its laurels…. settled into what occurred here three hundred years ago and what remains is, of course, great history and art . But modern PEOPLE live in this town, not tourists, not students, not professors of art history …. and there is not room for them. There is no flowing energy to inspire them away from their fear.

Florence, Italy…… nothing grows in ancient stone. And yet this is where I want to plant my seeds and expect them to grow into a healthy, abundant garden. A garden with no water, I absolutely wonder if it is possible. ……. I wonder if I can grow here.

So, what is all this about? Is this about our 9 month theater search? The unbelievably rude “negotiation” for our, pretty much, last legitimate possibility for a “proper” theater space? Is it the information we were hit with last week by one of our Italian creative partners that the Florentine acting community is more comfortable sitting back and waiting for us to show them who we are because they don’t “know us” before jumping in to create something new and different that could be more exciting for them then the small opportunities they have here now. . that they are not the creative partners I had assumed they were to become…. that the manner in which Aaron and I had been treating them - to us as ultimate professionals, was viewed in their cultural references as lacking in respect. Maybe it’s the date I had Friday night with the nice Egyptian man named Mohammad who I thought was decent enough until he stuck his tongue down my throat so fast I was practically gagging on it in mid-sentence. Between that date, and our experience finding a theatre, I feel I am legitimate to say my fantasy which I shared in my last letter - of performing in a wonderful space in front of an audience with a man who loves me - may not actually be fulfilled as long as I live in this town. However, of course, one must non dire mai (never say never).

And what does it matter anyway? It’s not as if I am not learning great lessons. I am constantly adjusting with each hit I take. It’s important to adjust. To have a vision…. see it, and then allow the vision to remain while the pathway changes. A bit. Or a lot. I’m not actually ready to leave Florence. Although, I have to say - I have to give her and all her inhabitants - round one. Something I’ve learned is I am a strong woman. I was led here by very positive energy - instincts - that I listened to and followed. And, although I rarely hear those instincts here - they have been deadened by the weight of the stones around me - they are mine and I will find the way to tap into them again and have them flow as my own personal stream in the heart of a dry town. I can build an oasis. A small one. I choose to. For now. I did build something these past ten months. Much of it, frankly, with Aaron and our vision for a company that may or may not manifest. But we have found a plot - of sorts - to plant our seeds. Through the generosity of the parish of the St. James American Church we will be able to do our first season - with many changes to that as well which we can discuss another day. It won’t be done easily as it is truly a “church” (see photos) - echo and all - and will offer many challenges creatively and financially in order to make it work. But we can begin. And then we will see.

I’m prepped now for round two. I’m more aware of where I am. And who I’m contending with. I know my allies and I know my opponents. And more importantly, I know myself. I can take a stand for who I am. Who I have grown to be over my 42 years. And I have the bruise on my arm to prove it (see photo). Still throbs a little, but the bastard didn’t get my purse. I fought him like the warrior I am. And what upsets me more then the attack - which was a bit aggressive I have to say - but I am really proud of myself for holding my ground - what upsets me more is the men and women just half a block down who did nothing. Did nothing and said nothing. Not “how are you, are you okay?” Nothing. And that, is not pessimism. That is something far more painful to me than some ignorant person trying to steal my purse. And not nearly as painful as discovering I am in a town full of people who call themselves artists but have no real artistic curiosity or passion. Not as painful as realizing that I may, if I remain here, never meet someone who is truly worthy of me - while I learn more and more each day the true value of my own worth. And hope that those wounds heal as quickly as the finger bruises on my arm. Because, of course, with wounds come healing….. and now I begin round two with the realization there is nothing Florence will give me. Florence is dormant right now and I can’t expect it to ever be otherwise. I, however, am not. I am - finally - curious and passionate to see what can be created here - in the small oasis I make with Aaron, with myself, with the friends I have come to respect and love. Now I begin round two awake. Not lulled to sleep by the lack of energy here….. but awakened by the task of gently looking to find it. And that search begins with me…… on my terms.

Ciao ragazzi. Vengo negli stati uniti a presto!

Baci

One would think that, as you sit on a lovely sofa next to your increasingly impressive co-Artistic Director and amazing partner in crime articulating all you have done over this time period - the projects you have planned, the relationships you have built, the research you have done, the actions you are taking, the responses to your work - in the Consulate reception room overlooking the Arno that you have achieved….. something.

Additionally, one might ponder that when you are done with your presentation - which is not short because the effort has been intense, focused, creative, sincere and, with all humility, quite inspired and notable in many ways - that you might receive the assistance you require to “close the deal” …… somehow.

And that assistance, of course as I alluded to in my last missive, would be in the form of a theater. A physical space somewhere in the center of the city which is, in many ways, where the approach to modern theatre was born, where artists, politicians and nobility thrived together to create some of the most indelible effects on the human imagination and where, currently, Aaron and I envision FITC making an indelible impact of its own. But there is that space thing. And we are in Italy. And, even though, as Aaron so …. succinctly put it…. the US Consul General of Tuscany pretty much said (and these are not her direct words so nothing is “on the record” here) ‘the United States of America would like it very much if Florence supported this project.’ …. it is still necessary for Bari and Aaron to trudge through said city in 90+ degree heat and G-d only knows what astronomical level of humidity - dripping wet in our nice “professional-looking-give-us-a-theater-so- we- can- start- focusing-on-other-things-like-MAKING-theatre-and-marketing-it” clothes and the week has ended - with so many wonderful and myriad thoughts, opportunities, and blisters — but no theater.

What’s a co-Artistic Director to do? Well, she could turn to the men in her life. Four more have appeared recently (well five if we add the return of Bicycle Man). It seems, along with the steam rising off of the cobblestones, some sort of hormonal fragrance is rising off of my body as I walk through the streets of Florence searching for our elusive theater. I was walking down via Proconsolo, minding my own business… obsessing about the 20 page list of tasks Aaron and I each have which constantly have to be re-prioritized as the clock ticks the days away with no location for our season (but I’m not worried… I believe it will happen, it will happen, it will happen…… ) when I feel a presence to my right. I turn my head, slightly, as that is all that was required, and there walking by me as if I should have expected him to be there…. was Bicycle Man. Senza bicycle. Talking to me as if we were in mid-conversation. It’s hot out…. and I was exhausted from theater-shopping, so possibly I was seeing things. No, there he was….. asking me for a coffee. “Non posso. Ho lavoro. Troppo!” (I can’t.. I have work. Too much of it!) “Domani” he says? “Non posso. Ho Lavoro. Troppo.” ( you already know what this means) and so it went until we covered all possible time frames over the next 20 years. I didn’t like him there. On my street. I didn’t like the way he didn’t take my offer of a hand shake but did the normal two kiss cheek thing and then threw in a too-long-held hug for good measure when it was time to part. I made sure he was not around when I went to my door. It was disturbing enough to find him on my street. Him knowing my door….that’s all I need right now!
But then of course, maybe I could fend him off with the belt - if I had accepted it - that was offered by Giuseppe the other night as I left Clara’s and headed home to change before going out to hear Aaron play with his band “Kitsch’N'Sync” (cute huh? When Maia came to visit the week prior she and I had an amazing time dancing to them in that pit of a place I mentioned where we do our Radio Hour - the Bebop - There was a moment where she and I were moving with such abandon that I took one look at this gorgeous sensuous woman dancing with me and, in contrast, behind her were all these 20-something-year-old university kids that seemed terrified of their sexuality (and therefore truly distant from their own selves)…. and I was so happy I was no longer one of them…. I felt …. oddly….. terribly sad for them. They seemed so stifled and lost and, really, only half-developed as people. And that, was another freeing thought. Thank you Aaron and “Kitsch’N'Sync!” It opened up a whole world of possibility for me to be much more comfortable and excited about myself and my sexuality as a 40-something year old woman. To realize that I am at the height of my growth as a female and human being, not at a down-turn. That it’s only going to get better from here! Because I understand now that, unlike when I was younger and clueless, I have the power of the choice of what I want to do with my body and my life and I can celebrate that fact…..

wait… I wonder…. was it this realization that is emanating from my body? Is this why, only later the same day as the reappearance of Bicycle Man that I heard that fated line (or faded line… wait, you’ll see what I mean) leave from Giuseppe’s mouth……

“Buona Sera Signora” (I tried to ignore it… as I’ve told you that’s the rule here… but he was following me…. and seemed harmless enough…. shorter than me ( of course) and older…..) “Buona Sera” So, because G-d forbid I am rude to anyone I said the dumbest thing a woman apparently can say in this city ….. “sera.” That’s it, I opened the door…….. and here’s the line I know you will love…… “Ti conosco?” (Do I know you?…. you look…. familiar). Within two minutes he told me he owned a leather store and would I like to come to his shop so he could give me a “regalo” (a gift) of a belt. “At 10:30 at night? No, grazie.” I had dancing with abandon to do with Clara to the music of “Kitsch’n'Sync” in the bowels of a Florentine building…… I didn’t have the time to receive a “regalo” …… besides, there was always tomorrow….

… when it was time for me to be run down by a car. Well, almost run down by a car. A bald man - good-looking and maybe tall, couldn’t tell as he was sitting down, made a bee-line from one side of the street to another, came to a halt practically on my heels. “Buon Giorno Signora” (now, here, to my defense I thought he was going to ask directions… but no…. he said…..) “Ti conosco?” Now COME ON! There must be a better line than that?! I mean it sounds lovely in Italian and all, but still….. dumb lines do cross all cultures don’t they?

Of course, the next night, after I left Frank and Aaron and their favorite watering-hole, and second home (Lions Fountain….. but we can visit there another time) I suspected (in retrospect) the man leaning on the railing was sending some energy in my direction, but, again, I remain clueless to these things the moment they are happening…. until, as I walked away and toward my apartment, I hear: “Buona Sera Signora”….. Damnit! It was just him and me in a little alley…. how could I make believe I didn’t hear him. Tall, dark and handsome….. and really interested in my eyes and my figure…. “do you work out? Most Americans are fat.” Well, at least that’s not “ti conosco”…. but I didn’t feel like telling him I’m currently on a training program to have a better body than I ever did in my 30’s…. instead I said “no solo camminare” (no just walking). And he replies: “posso camminare con te adesso?” (I opened the door didn’t I? Now Roberto wants to go for a walk with me) “Oh! Mi dispiace! Ho dimenticato dire qualcosa al mio collega!” (thank God I could use Aaron - my “colleague” - as an excuse and high-tail it back to his pub (did I mention Aaron also manages his favorite watering hole and second home?) Aaron told me I had to be more “Florentina” and not talk to them at all. So I thought… okay…. I’ll try that… I will, I really will….

The next day, while walking down one of my little alleys past the nice cobbler who fixes my shoes and on my way to meet Aaron for another theater search, I hear in crystal clear English “you lost something”……. what could it be? Did something fall off of me? I looked around…. and there coming toward me was a man, well-dressed, tall, nice-looking, and he repeated “you lost something…. your sense of humor. Why do you look so serious?” Mama mia! I just didn’t have the energy to become instantly Florentina….. besides his English took me off guard. So after I told him I was from the states and he told me he does work with Berghdoff I thought it best to give him a flyer for our theatre company’s website (always marketing!) and he said….”is your cell phone on here?” And I said no…. if he wanted my cell phone he would just have to go to the website and figure out how to get in touch with me. “Why are you so cold? You’ve been in Florence too much. You are like Florentine women”…. oh my G-d! Was I taking Aaron’s advice and not even realizing it? Romano was relentless…. but there was Aaron across the street in the distance…. so I said…. “sorry Romano… have to go… look, there’s my collega! If you want to get to know me… you’re going to have to work at it a little bit. And sign up for our mailing list while you are at it!” I crossed the street, met with Aaron and off we went to our first stop — the search of some church that is now a museum which may or may not have a space we could use for performance……

I must say that, currently, my experience of men in Florence (and there are a few other circumstances I’ve not mentioned here) feels very much like finding a theatre to get FITC off the ground (and there are MANY events around that I have also not shared with you)….. stilted and dissatisfying …. a little exhausting and a tease of my sensibilities. Also, frankly, not worthy of my values. However, although it just may be my Polly-Anna heart, I do feel there’s something here… in the air, in the not-too-distant future. I can sense it, something coming, something…. worth celebrating…… but I have to be ready. Prepared. Open and present. Ready to play fully with the right circumstance. So currently I have to keep walking these hard-stoned streets in the suffocating heat, with head high and eyes open…. even as I am teased with unacceptable spaces to hold our vision and less-acceptable pick-up lines for the sharing of myself…… and believe…. believe…. believe….. that one day soon there will be a wonderful stage I will be playing on and a man I enjoy spending time with in the audience watching me with the freedom of affection in his eyes. That’s my goal in Florence Ragazzi. I have one or two others….. But for now….. that’s my goal….

Molti bacci. Ci sono giorni come questo quando mi mancate molti. E’ cosi adesso.