Playing Hookie

Saw my favorite Italian movie on tv last night- La vita è bella. In italian, while I was in Italy. Wow!

Wake up early this morning to my hostel mate's alarm clock going off. Open the blinds to see lots and lots of rain. Contemplate going to Florence instead of school. Don't know if I'll be able to go before I leave and decide to just do it. Best decision this week!

Walk past school on the way to the train station and feel a little guilty, but keep going. Train ride goes well; arrive in Florence where it is also raining, but won't let it get me down.

The nice thing about Italy is you can walk around and then bam! Out of nowhere comes some massive beautiful building. Definitely doesn't get old.

Came to Florence with one goal: see David. I know there is a ton of art in Florence, but after seeing Pietà last time in Rome I know I need more Michelangelo. I pretty much make a beeline for the museum- I read online that the wait can be horrendous. Arrive and literally walk right in. Do a happy dance. The museum won't let me take pictures, so I can't show you what it looked like from my perspective. Google "David" and then hold your computer 20 feet above your head. It looked like that (plus goosebumps and yes, I almost cried. Think it was remnants of last night's movie or something.) I loved it.

Leave the museum and wander in to a giant street market. I passed it earlier, but was in a rush to see my man Dave. Now it is raining less and I have time to look around. Buy a couple random things and look around for a place to eat.

See a menu in an alley and start reading. Decide it sounds okay and close my umbrella  fight with stupid cheap umbrella. A waitress opens the door, takes the frustration out of my hands and drops it in a bucket next to the door. I like this restaurant already. I come in and sit down. It's mostly empty but there's a man who looks possibly English-speaking at the table next to me. The waitress comes up and I attempt Italian. She is incredibly patient with me, which I appreciate. I order a spicy dish, but I think on the menu it was labeled "angry." I ask the waitress, but I'm not sure she understood what I was asking.

The food comes out and I continue talking with the waitress and the man behind the bar (the owner?) They do the friendly "my city is better than yours" bicker that Italians are so good at. I laugh a lot and try not to take sides. Lunch is absolutely delicious and I eat too much. I order coffee at the end of the meal and they try to make me choose who will make it, thus determining which city I favor. They bring the coffee and offer a piece of the absolute best tiramisu I have ever had. I'm not sure what face I made when I took my first bite, but the owner called the waitress over to look. I'm telling you, it was amazing.

I'm not sure how long I stay, but I'm happy for every minute. When I am getting ready to leave, I say my goodbyes, take a few pictures, and walk towards the door. The owner corrects my rudeness and reminds me Italians part by kissing cheeks. I apologize for my American-ness and take part in a ritual that no longer freaks me out. I leave with a feeling that can only come from a good meal with good people.