Lessons of Florence

But to hear these words from someone I was sure I had stepped away from, someone I was falling in love with back – when was it? – I think May of 2007 – and after I’ve said to him when he called me recently “si possiamo avere un cena insieme ma come amici.  Non posso essere un amante con te come prima.” (yes we can have a dinner together but as friends, I can’t be lovers with you like before).  Because – if you recall – “before” was not so easy.  “Before” was dating – we called him Alessandro – in a way that served his life and made me feel like a mistress to a non-married man.  

There is something about me and men who want me desperately but can’t seem to actually allow themselves to be with me.  And still this is Alessandro.  One year later, calling me for friendly drinks, kissing me on the lips to greet me instead of both cheeks, wrapping his arm around my waste as we walk through Piazza Beccheria, touching my face with “che bella sei” (how beautiful you are) while I’m trying to get him to clearly understand in my now one-year-older Italian that “non posso” be lovers.  And I can’t.

So why do I have a drink with him?  Or dinner?  Or anything for that matter?  I remember once, back in Los Angeles in my former life, I was taking a class on self-defense and the teacher said something so striking I’ve never forgotten it.  She said that women are so innately nurturing that the larger percentage of victims restrain themselves from fighting back because of a deep-seated fear of hurting their attackers.

I don’t want to hurt him.  And yet I am wondering how much I am hurting myself.  We stopped at Piazzale Michelangelo after dinner and walked toward the edge which looked over the city.  The moon was full which was making the stones of Florence glow an orange and gold between the shadows of the grays and tans.  He looked at me and took my face in his hands and kissed me far too intimately to be friends and basically told me he loved me.  That some day things would not always be like this – the “this” for those of you who may not know is his strict commitment to his 9 year old daughter’s fantasy that even though he no longer lives with her mother (they were never married) there is no other woman in his life (it’s the whole “La Mamma” thing).  So I think Alessandro, 500 feet from the bronze copy of The David and framed by the moon kissing the trees above the Boboli Gardens also basically asked me to marry him…. somewhere …. in …. the … future.

I can only pray that if and when that time comes my answer will be “no, grazie.”

Ciao Ragazzi,
A voi vi mando tanti baci!

Just when I thought this was a time in my life where I was simply a Florence-International-Theatre-Company-creating-machine without much “feminine” aspect to me… I have been reminded, in a way that I’ve only experienced since moving to Italy (although once with a restaurateur in the states but he was also of Italian origin), that I am woman.

Yes, I am woman…. Slam me against a wall (or try to) with the excuse you want to “baciarmi” (kiss me).  This has happened to me a few times in my less-than-three-years in Firenze.  Some of you will recall the “panino-man” (sandwhich man) who insisted I made him feel “not married” or the gentleman from Egypt who kept trying to stick his tongue down my throat while walking me home (I continued “da solo” – by myself – after three or four attempts and to keep him from knowing where I live).  But those I actually saw coming.  What I didn’t see coming happened two days ago and it’s left me feeling a little… uncomfortable.

I’m not going to use names or political assignments, but it’s funny what the lazy days of August does to a person.  A person – in this case male – who is high enough up in the city government to be fairly significant; a person who I’ve had many meetings with and actually have been (until two days ago) somewhat intimidated by because of his position and relationship to my mastery of Italian (which, believe me, gets better all the time).  In Firenze August is a strange time.  The stones become very hot, the Italians try to leave (although the economy has kept more here than would like to be) and the tourists still fill the streets and walk around sweating and fanning themselves.  It’s a good time to buy gelato and do very little else (but of course I am following my horoscope which said all of my friends would be relaxing this month “but you dear Pisces will be working harder than ever”…. Ain’t it the truth!)  Anyway… here’s what happened:

I had to start the process of finding space, yet again, for our rehearsals during the new season.  So I went to the government office to speak to a man there who has always been very helpful with getting us the spaces we need for rehearsing.  It was then that I found out he had been relocated to another part of the city’s government and we no longer had a “friend” who – apparently – had actually been a little ‘generous’ to us in assigning space (which I didn’t reveal to the lady who was now working with me, I simply told her my ex-colleague used to do this and so, naturally, I wouldn’t know the correct process).  Now there were forms to fill out, money to pay, and – in the end – we probably wouldn’t get the space because we wanted it for rehearsals which I have found out are not good enough reasons this year.  Last year it was fine!  So I left a bit concerned about what the heck we’re going to do for rehearsal space.  I told my friend, Andrea, about this conundrum and he immediately got on the phone and called…. This person…. And then told me to go to the office and speak to him the next day because he can say yes or no to the issue.  I told him I didn’t want to go because I felt a bit intimated by him when I spoke Italian (Andrea and I only speak in Italian) and have never had a meeting with him “da solo” and he told me to not be so crazy “Lui e’ grande” (he’s great) and I should get over myself and go.

So I did.

And he was “grande” and relaxed and we had a great casual talk about FITC and Florence and then he asked me what I was doing for lunch, I said nothing, and he said, let’s go get something to eat.  First he had to check on his friend’s apartment because he was taking care of the cats.  So we went to the apartment, he checked on the cats, and then he came at me in a way that shocked me so much I started laughing.

There’s a bit of an arrogance to a man coming at a woman like that…. Out of the blue with no invitation, no steps toward it…. Simply an assumption that you – like he – “wants it.”

It’s actually more than a bit of arrogance.  It scared me.  I mean, everything turned out fine, no one was hurt, no one got kissed, and we had lunch and now I’m not intimidated to call on him when I need something since he’s shown a side of him I never expected to see…. But it left me with this discomfort I am sorry I have.  Tonight I went to have dinner with Andrea – my friend who is married and owns a restaurant but his wife is in Austria with the grandchild to get out of the heat of Firenze – and I felt uncomfortable for the first time with him.  It was all in my head of course, but the thought was there.

Anyway, that’s all ragazzi,

Just wanted to share it.

Al Gore recently threw down a challenge to the American people to become less reliant on oil within the next ten years.  I think, if you haven’t seen the video, you should take a look at it here (Gore’s Challenge) .  In Italy the response of my friends is generally “the Americans can’t do it.  They like their big cars and their huge consumption.  They aren’t capable of this sort of change.”  I thought about that long and hard.  And I want to share something with you (just incase it’s true!).  When I go back to the US I do see things that I no longer do.  I see a great deal of waste and reliance on certain things that I’ve learned are really not absolutely necessary.

However … Let’s be honest.  I’m sitting here in my apartment in via Ghibellina.  It’s over 100 degrees in Florence WITH humidity and I don’t have air conditioning.  That doesn’t sound like a great situation to most people.  But I’ve learned to live with it.  I’ve learned from the Italians how to keep the windows closed all day to keep the heat out and open them at night to let the cool air in.  I don’t suffer.  In fact, what makes me suffer more is going from very hot weather into overly air conditioned buildings.  Why?  Because I’ve adjusted.  And I understand why everyone here simply stops working in August and tries to flee the city.  They go where it’s cool – the beach, the mountains, Austria.  I can’t, as we all know, because I’m not in a position to right now.  But being here in August isn’t horrible either…. It’s quieter and you feel the heat of the buildings, the stones… you feel nature, which is often a nice reminder.  I’m not saying I like to sweat for days on end, but I also can’t afford the electricity it takes to air condition my home.  So I make my choices.

Like water.  That’s also pretty costly here.  I’ve learned from my early days with that tiny water tank some of you may recall, that I actually could turn the water off while I’m doing certain things like shampooing, shaving, etc.  Your perspective changes when you actually SEE the water tank in your apartment and understand that your use is directly tied to that little meter which is pretty much directly tied to your bank account.

Here are other ways my life has changed:  I walk everywhere, I don’t drive a car, if I wasn’t afraid of being killed by crazy motorinos and buses or running down tourists I would use a bicycle like all of my friends.  When I have to go further I take public transport.  I turn off the lights if I’m leaving a room and only use one light when I’m in a room.  (that electric meter is also tied to my bank account).  I don’t have a dryer and if and when I ever move back to the states I won’t get one… because I LOVE hanging my clothes to dry. (Although apparently the city just created another law for the “clean up” of Florence which includes not hanging your clothes out the window in the front of the buildings.  Which, to me, is idiotic, this is a tourist town and people COME to Italy to see laundry hanging from the windows because back in the states they all have DRIERS!!  But, even worse than that is the new law of a fine against graffiti.  Because guess who pays the fine?  The people who own the darn buildings!  Anyway… this is all for another day ….)

That’s all.  I just wanted to say it so it’s out there.  Unlike my friends here I believe in the American people.  I’m proud to be one of them – which these days is not easy to say abroad, but it’s true.  We have many wonderful qualities, not the least of which is determining to do something and getting it done.   So…. From whatever I’ve learned that I can share with you…. I do think we can improve the situation over there…. One little daily adjustment at a time.

Basta! ……………Per adesso.

Bari