Crashed on the floor when I moved in, this little bungalow with some strange new friends.

It's the five of us.

I admit that I'm bummed that Megan and Jen both beat me to the inevitable Home entry, but after this past weekend, this weekend where our biggest stress was climbing the side of Positano to make it to our bus on time, wearing swimsuits and skirts and holding juicy, dripping kumquats in our hands, I should have nothing to wish for, nothing to wait for. But maybe that's why it is happening after this weekend. Walking down the hillside of Capri, to find our rocky beach, to lay out for four hours, Ingrid said "this is honestly the best day of my life." And there's nowhere to go but down from there.

And what I've discovered about home came most intensely from this weekend. The first night there were two girls in our dorm who could not stop bitching about staying in a dorm in a hostel, about how they were like, totally, in an orphanage. And I noticed the glazed over look that I used to receive in Boston, when we told them we were from Wisconsin/Minnesota/Indiana. The Unimportant Places. The "what do you dooo there?" Places. And I am so thankful for that. I am so unbelievably grateful that I am from a culture that celebrates humility, graciousness, kindness. That I was raised not to believe that I am better than anyone because I am from one of the two places that Italians seem to think comprise all of America - California and New York. I love the coast. Both of them. I want to live in Boston again, I want to live in New York, I want to live in San Francisco, but I am a midwestern girl at heart. 

I'm surprised to find myself, like Jen, proud to be American. But more than that, I am proud to be from the midwest. I am proud to say that's where I'm from, even if the only ones who understand this are also from the midwest. I could wish nothing more for my children than they grow up understanding these midwestern values. They are by no means confined to the midwest, but you find them in abundance here. And I miss that.

God I miss that. I miss polite people, I miss my group of friends, where there's no conflict of status, where we're all on the same level, our connection running through us like roots. I need them again in my life. But it makes me appreciative all the same of the roots I have here as well, the people I have here. The Midwest goes to Italy. Represented by Wisconsin, Indiana, Ohio and Minnesota.

I'm amazed now, a week and a half before our program ends, to realize the friendships that I've made here have become monumentally important to me. I love our home. It feels like home, and I love that. I love that Ingrid, Stef, Jen and I have been welded together in this experience, each of us unable to describe studying abroad without mentioning each other. I'm so happy that Mandy is part of our group. Our group that has somehow separated itself for the most part from the rest of our program, but we all click so perfectly. Perfect in our imperfections, picking up each other's slack, finishing each other's sentences, picking up each other's messes, taking care of each other. 

That's what I'll miss I suppose. But I shouldn't miss it now. I need to focus on the next week and a half I have here, with them.

I'm glad we have each other.

Though all these things will change the memories will remain

There's something about quiet Sundays, Ray Lamontagne, and coffee that makes me want to sit down and write. I realize how specific that is, but I find myself here on sundays listening to a lot of Ray and Bon Iver. It's beautiful out today. More than that, it's gorgeous. It seems appropriate for me to spend a religious holiday in my flat with a cup of coffee, listening to music, writing, and later drawing. My only forms of spirituality all crammed into Palm Sunday.

This morning Ingrid and her friends that are visiting - Katie and Jake, and I went to an American brunch at The Diner. We talked about what we missed. We miss coffee culture, and we miss big breakfasts. We laughed at how absurd Americans must look, getting pancakes and eggs and hashbrowns and coffee all for breakfast, when Europeans pretty much just have bread and coffee/espresso. One of the waitresses was american, and it's striking how different customer service is between Italy and America. She came over twice during our meal and asked if we wanted refills (unheard of), and then asked how everything tasted (unimaginable) and was right back when we needed the check. She was nice, polite, smiled at us. I didn't even realize I had missed those things until they occurred. 

I think that's what it's going to be like going back home. It will be difficult to adjust to not translating what I want to say in my head before I even open my mouth, but I think it will be most strange when I come upon things that I wasn't consciously missing. Things that were so ingrained into my daily routine that I didn't miss them until they're present again.

I find myself more and more thinking about going home. It's bad, and I will regret it as soon as I am home again, but it feels about time. I haven't even been gone that long (relatively speaking) but my heart (and my bank account) could really use a dose of home. I'm glad that 6 days after I come home, Megan will be home again. I'm glad the boys are staying in Minneapolis this summer, and I am excited to plan a trip to Boston to see my Mario with Micah. I'm excited to work again, despite my currently volatile feelings towards the Local. Last night I had a server dream. Which I haven't had since I was home. Those panicky dreams where I get in the weeds, and I just can't get out again. 

This is a sporadic entry, with no real purpose. I'm sorry for that. And I feel like since I'm here, I should only write about my experiences here, instead of what I'm missing from home. 

Ah so what I can I say? Florence is blossoming. People are sprouting from nowhere, flowers are in bloom, you can spell spring in the air, and thus my allergies are kicking in again. It's nice right now. I don't like how many people are constantly clogging the streets and buses, but I like that it feels more alive than when we arrived. I like that spring makes people smile (yes, even Italians), and I like this combination of feeling totally comfortable here, while also being content with how soon I will be home. 

The timing feels right. This experience has been so many things. It's renewed my friendship with Jen on a level that I didn't expect, and I am so eternally grateful for that. It's opened my eyes to so many different cultures, to so many new perspectives. I've always considered myself to be a pretty unbiased viewer of events - things that happen to people I love, I still tend to see from both sides of the equation, I can always see the opposing view. But this is the bigger picture. How other people see Americans. The stereotypes, and the unexpected generalizations that make me angry, and sad, even when they're true. 

Anyway. I have a final project for Drawing to start and finish today, and I want it to be good. Which means there is a lot of coffee and one late night ahead of me. 

Happy Palm Sunday. 

I love you.

Born like sisters to this world

I'm missing home today. It's a mixture of making a life decision (on my own!) last night, reading claire and megan's wall-to-wall, and the once a month hormonal roller coaster my body continues to bless me with. 

So I listen to "Better" by Regina Spektor. and I love that line. "Born like sisters to this world." I know that feeling. I wrote it almost verbatim in a poem my freshman year, before I'd heard the song. I know what it's like to be in a new city, a city to make your own, a city to explore, discover, hate, love. A city to change you. 

I have such a dichotomous relationship with cities. I love the quiet of the country, and when I was younger I wanted to live in a big old farm house in the middle of nowhere and wrap myself in fields and forests. That changed, and I still can't tell if it's the actually city that I love, or the idea of wrapping myself in a different world. A world that I would reinvent, shift to fit me. Or at least that's what it always seemed like I would do. 

I realized after Boston that it was the other way around. I was recreated, I was shifted, and I was fitting the place I chose. In many ways it was a negative change, I was unambitious, and too in love with the city to remember who I was, what I wanted out of my life. But in most ways, I was changed for the better (Mario you can start singing the Wicked song now). 

What I remember best was those first few weeks. I was in a city. a CITY. after too long in a small town, I had a whole city to myself. I held on to Sally and she held on to me, and we stumbled and fumbled our way around, laughing too hard and drinking too much. Things changed, but I still love that feeling. It felt like we were born for that time, we were born to walk down Comm Ave. at 4 in the morning, laughing til we were silent and had to stop to catch our breath. 

The funny thing was, as much as I changed, as much as I grew and regressed, I was still the same. I know that because Mario is still my best friend. I know that because he could see me when I was there, after bad grades and long nights and tears, he knew who I was before and after any changes, and he still knows me. That's home. 

Then came Minneapolis, and my volatile relationship with that city has come to mostly a halt since I've been here, since I've been given a chance to miss it. Not as much as Boston (my first great love), but I miss certain streets, every coffee shop, and I miss being on my own in that city. With my own job, and my own bills to pay, and my own bed to go home to at night. 

What I miss the most right now, is Claire, Megan and I. I didn't expect to have that Boston feeling again (Born like sisters to this world), and I got it again. Last summer was like waking up for me. I had just been sleeping, and woke up to home. Good friendships, true friendships, happen so easily. Effortless as breathing. The same thrill as first love. Claire and I obviously go back to the age of 4 inch thick bangs, secret clubhouses and digging in the dirt for worms, but it felt like Megan had been there the whole time too.  

I think that's why I keep on coming back to cities, even after I feel like I've been let down, broken up with by them so many times. Because I have this conditioned feeling that when I move to a city, I rediscover that feeling. Born like sisters to this world. Meant to walk together or not at all. 

And when I'm here, so far from Minneapolis, from Boston, from any sort of home in the traditional sense, I find myself being reaffirmed of my superstitious belief in cities. Inrid, Stef, Jen and I have done the same thing in Florence. In an enormously different sense, but nonetheless, we've grabbed on to each other and haven't let go. "It's like you've been living together for years" is what Mandy says. We're so vastly different, even Jen and I, despite our 8 year friendship, but we work. We mesh. We get each other, and we get annoyed, frustrated, but in the end, these are the only roommates I would want here. These are the only roommates, friends, I could have here.

Born like sisters to this world.