Lessons of Florence

There is no “Italian story” for a single woman without an Italian romance. Isn’t that right? Of course I didn’t come to Italy - really - for romance. Or maybe I did if I’m going to be incredibly honest with myself. Which I am trying to be of late. I’ve been here for 22 months to the day. I’ve had many adventures and challenges G-d knows. But not much romance. That was until - let’s call him ‘Alessandro.’

Alessandro is not his name. His name is quite different and unique for Italians. In fact, when told his name to my Italian friends many of them would make a face because they’ve never heard of it before. It’s made up you see and that’s not usually done here. Here everyone has the same name - or almost everyone. Simone, Gianni, Andrea, Giuseppe, Alessandro, Marcello, etc. In fact that’s why Italians call each other by their last names. I thought it was so odd at first, and somewhat rude. But if a teacher has a class of 15 with 7 Alessandros what is she going to do?

So, because I care(d) about him, and because he mean(t) something to me, we will call him Alessandro to keep him anonymous. Out of respect. Which I still have. And a little mourning for what I no longer have.

As I have said early on in my adventure — probably around 20 months ago — my friend, at that time, Julianna, told me to get a boyfriend to learn Italian. Which I thought was a very - what’s the word - is it mercenary? or maybe selfish? - thing to do. Although, that IS a way to learn the language. And I have to say I do speak better now then I did 8 months ago when I first met ‘Alessandro.’ At first it was incredibly difficult. We spent a lot of time in silence. I was often frustrated and concerned about communicating. But then ‘Alessandro’ was patient and kept saying that the words would come with time. And I did quickly learn to appreciate words like “bellezza” and ” dolcezza ” and, of course, when you have issues with the size of your tush and a man says “che bel culo” you sort of rearrange your self-image of your backside willingly and happily…. in this Italian dream of vertical language lessons. ‘Pillow Talk’ I guess would be one way to put it.

But then, slowly, verbs arrange themselves to complex formations and adjectives and reflexives find their place as well; which made communication better. Then he learned I liked to talk; which worked out well, as he liked to listen. He is a fairly simple man. And, I think, a good one.

On most street corners of Florence you will find a Madonna. She is there, I believed earlier, to protect you from getting killed by motorinos and bicycles, taxis and buses, as you dare to cross the street. But she is also there - I now think - for another reason. Because Italians love her. She is THE mother. And the “mother” is very important here. So much more than one realizes when your new beau says he has been separated from his companion for two years and she is the MOTHER of his child. At first, falling on American ears, this is just a fact. Your new man who you are feeling more and more comfortable with had a relationship and a child with that person. He sees his daughter often, he cares for her and takes her to dance lessons twice a week. This means he is a good and responsible father. You think the daughter of this man must be a lovely girl. You look forward to meeting her.

The problem is….. it’s likely you never will. Because, you see, you are not the MOTHER of his child. Which, if I wasn’t clear enough in the above paragraph, is a sacred position here in Italy. The “image” of the mother-child relationship is almost impenetrable. The position of “mother of my children” must be revered and upheld by fathers at all costs; even when they no longer find their wives sexually desirable and take mistresses for years and years. Even when they leave their companions, move out and two years later start seeing an American woman who knows lots of healthy situations of compromise and readjustment when relationships went south and it wasn’t best to put up “appearances” for the sake of the children who would have grown up hating the opposite sex or pursuing equally dysfunctional relationships to mirror the only example they ever experienced!

So, as the complexity of our conversations increased, and our affection deepened, the situation worsened as cultures collided. Alessandro is somewhat older than me, and brought up in a very small village near Siena. He is a generous, caring and wonderful man imprisoned (his own word) by his sense of duty and responsibility and his inability (my observation) to see the possibilities of compromise and creative envisioning. In other words no matter how you cut it, I was a mistress to an unmarried man who felt completely duty-bound to “the mother of his child” and could not see it ever changing.

So I had to end it. And I have to say I miss him a great deal. I loved his love of me, his celebration of being together, his concern for my eating enough and always feeding me at any hour, his freedom of expression and honesty. And mint tea and chocolate for breakfast.

And I am sad because I envisioned the days of August exploring the depth of an Italian summer together. This rich culture of stopping and going where the air is cleaner and cooler and life really is about breakfast, lunch, dinner and essere disteso (being relaxed). I wanted to know him in this way. I wanted to know myself with him in that way.

But some things simply are not to be for all seasons. Some things are invitations to feel more than you’ve felt in a long time, to remember your depth of expression, to finally know you can be with a man and open yourself to him without loosing yourself.

Quindi, al questo momento, vorrei dire grazie ‘Alessandro’ per passare tempo buono con me. Ti desidero una vita piena con liberta’ — senza di me.

Ciao ragazzi,

Thank you for listening.

Bari

The city is quiet now… lots of people left and will leave for the summer - August. Life as you know it stops for a bit. And for an American with a mission this presents a challenge. What mission you might ask? Raising funds to support the second season and continual, incredible growth of Florence International Theatre Company of course! Hard to do in a city - a country really - that starts anticipating August in mid-June, acting like it’s August in mid-July and then takes on that beautiful, but incredibly non-productive migration generally from August first through September 15th (In Italy August runs from about 5 to 15 days into September!). I mean, people may be back in the office on the 3rd… but are they there?

On so many levels the logic is deep. The city is hot, the beach and mountains are not. And besides, working every day or week or month of the year is so….. well, it would describe my life actually. Which is why I’ve not been able to sit and write for quite awhile. And in that time so much, and so little, has happened.

But today the summer rains are pounding the stones of Florence, the hail just short of the size of glass marbles have already come and gone, the lightening flashes and the thunder rolls through the streets and palazzi and all of this and the deepening quiet of the city keeps me from my appointments and safe and dry in my apartment walls. Sometimes nature wins. Often the Italians are right.

However there is always internet! As hard as it is for my wireless waves to breach the “vecchio” stone walls of my bedroom and make a clear connection to my living room, communication with those who don’t follow the Italian need for escaping cities and offices is still possible. Which is vitally important to Aaron and I as we - struggle really - to hold onto the vision which we believe in so much. And which has become an integral - well, let’s be honest - nearly the totality of my life in Florence. That the city could benefit greatly from having a professional resident theatre company performing in English but composed of international artists. The more I read the New York Times or La Nazione (when I try to practice reading in my seconda lingua!) the more I know this to be true. The world needs artists right now…. to remind us of what we human beings truly are, can be and can do together.

All that aside, nothing happens without money, now does it. So, two months ago, after our beautiful production of AGNES OF GOD closed, Aaron and I went to work. I’ve learned a great deal about this city, about my own government, and about the expatriate community of Americans and wealthy Italians (those I have come face to face with) in this time. We’ve sat in a famous palazzo with a family member of Ferragamo, had ice tea with a well-respected expat in a glorious apartment overlooking the Arno River, bought cappuccino for a member of one of the oldest families of Florence, attended meetings of the “Assessore al Turismo” (the Minister of Tourism) to discuss the excessive drinking problem in the city by study abroad students and meetings at the US Consulate to discuss the importance of volunteerism. We’ve sat with the Consul General of Britian, the President of Quartiere Uno (a quarter of the city), and had a lovely discussion with the well-respected daughter of one of the most beloved mayors the city ever had - Il Sindaco Piero Bargellini - during the flood of 1966. Because we do work with children and the community as well as offer alternatives to drinking for the study abroad students we – in our naiveté – believed funding – or at least some funding – would be available.

We were wrong. The reasons are myriad and frustrating. In words such as bureaucracy, perception, complacency, ignorance, exclusion you will find some of the answers. I practice expressing my frustration with my Italian teacher. I’m glad at least someone is entertained! And I’ve learned some very useful words in Italian. But I won’t put them here.

However…. not to be pessimistic….

…..I now scour the internet looking for funding sources and ideas. I call strangers all around the world in offices from the National Italian American Foundation to the Shoah Foundation and beg them for assistance and referrals. I have become ruthless in my pursuit to not give up. August or no…. FITC’s life needs to continue.

I called the US State Department in Washington D.C. and ended up on the fourth connection with this amazing lady who was the Director of some department that works with citizens abroad. Their mission is to work with the private sector to engage American citizens in being ambassadors of sorts to put forward a positive conduct of America for the Foreign Affairs Department.

BINGO! We can be an arm of the Foreign Affairs/Cultural Department. They can give us money and we can do good work! Especially since they are focusing on using cultural diplomacy (these words have become very important to Aaron and me lately) to “reach out to marginalized and minority kids.”

“Minority” is an interesting word when you’re an immigrant. I mean, in a sense, I am in the minority here.

I was wondering how that was defined for them as she continued to say that she sees what we are doing as creating “very exciting models for cultural diplomacy…. important for US interests….. can improve US relations with local authorities in a key city.” That our Creative Campus program with US students and others can put “students in partnership with local peers to be used as cultural ambassadors …. now if you can match them with minority students…. we could possibly find a connection that can be funded… From our point of view, what you’re doing is vital because it - in the long run - improves US/international relations on a local scale, which - over time - can save us the enormous sums of money it takes to compensate for not doing the sort of work you are pursuing.”

Okay……Everyone take a moment and THINK about what that statement really means!!

But again, I was a little uncertain what she meant by minority students. She defined it for me….. “directly stated….. Muslim.”

Now everything was clear. Somehow I came to Florence to have the most direct relationship I’ve ever had with my government – from the Consulate experience of almost a year ago to this moment – I see the power of the arts in a different way. A political tool. But a political tool that does… good? We do say that “FITC is connecting communities.” I don’t however like excluding one community for another at the bequest of my government. It’s hard to believe that the health and impact of thousands of US students that get imported here each year (let’s remember study abroad is an industry) aren’t a concern to the State Department. But then again… I’m a naïve’ artiste!

On the other hand…. if I want the $2,000 grant which would come if we create a proposal that satisfies their criteria, then that would be 1448.12€ which is, of course, money. However not money directed toward something we actually intended to do.

Well, ragazzi, the rains have stopped and the steam is rising off the asphalt of via Ghibellina. I can hear my neighbor’s lavatrice (washing machine) begin in anticipation that she will be able to hang her laundry out to dry two hours from now when the cycle is over (yes, here the cycle is usually more than 1.5 hours to wash clothes!)

I have more emails to right, as I search for support of the arts in Florence. How did I get to this point in my life where I have chosen to work each day only at the end of it to hold in my hand nothing and yet in theory so much?

I now completely understand the phrase: “a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush”…. So maybe the best course of action is to locate some nice Muslim children and write up a proposal….

You never know what happens until you try!

Buona giornata tutti!

E buon Agosto!

Bari