Toward the end of my previous post I included a journal entry about my arrival for my 1999 Florence trip, as well as photos of the beautiful house where I stayed. So I thought I'd go ahead and post the entries about the rest of that trip, which I took for a "total immersion" language program. This was my second time doing this program; the first time took me to Lucca in 1997 (which you can read about in these posts: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4).
A word about the photos: I'm no photographer, first of all; secondly, these were taken with a disposable camera, so the quality isn't the greatest.
22 June 1999
At this moment, I'm having my breakfast on the terrazzo under a rose arbor--no blooms now, but still so gemütlich! This is what I had imagined before I came to Italy last time. This is just about perfect--only there's some sort of construction shop next door beyond the gardens, so there is the occasional hammering and buzzsawing to break the tranquil birdsong. But I don't really mind.
On my first evening, Sunday, the Bertinis took me along to a large dinner party in nearby Fiesole. I had heard much about Fiesole from travel shows and books--that it's very expensive and a bunch of rich people live there. The house we went to stands on the brow of a hill, modern, lots of glass, rather like a stylized ship. The company was comprised of some of the cultural hoi-poloi of Florence--directors of museums, members of philanthropical organizations--a supposedly "casual" sit-down dinner, which in Italy means that the men wear suits and ties and the women wear their best business attire and very important jewelry. I never saw so many gold bracelets in my life. And the fact that my own could stand up very well against theirs, sort of compensated for my tourist-fresh-from-the-States attire. However, no one seemed to mind my clothes, or if they did they were much too well-bred to show it. I was seated across from, as my teacher Donatella tells me, one of the most nobile women of Florence, Benedetta Someone-or-Other. She had beautiful carriage and the kind of face that carries her age very gracefully without artificial help. She was softspoken, but very kind and whenever I chanced to catch her eye, she would smile slightly. She owns and runs the Medici hotel (she's a descendant) and a splendid villa near Lucca.
We sat at a very long table in a room with huge windows that afforded a wonderful view of the surrounding hills. There were two first courses: orzo with vegetables, and pasta with pesto; two main courses: baked salmon, and a sort of stew; green salad; an apricot tart with homemade yogurt gelato, and espresso--all of which was served by two people, caterers, I assume. It was all very noisy and happy with lots of gesturing and gesticulating. And Benedetta smiled benignly upon it all.
The arbored terrazzo where I had breakfast and most of my lessons.
Yesterday, after my al fresco breakfast of toast and espresso and blood orange juice, I went up to the music room to practice for about two and a half hours, then got out my camera and took loads of pictures, mostly outside, because the house for the most part is too dark inside, even with a flash. Then Donatella and I sat down to lunch in the old kitchen--pasta pomodoro, roast beef, salad, fruit--all prepared and served by Gary, the Filipino houseboy.
Back of the house - music room with "Juliet" balcony on top floor
View of the garden from the music room. Donatella's art studio at left.
After a brief post-pranzo siesta, we had our first lesson--in the library, because it was raining and we couldn't sit out on the terrazzo. We went through all the recits of Giovanni, she helping with phrasing and the grouping of words and correcting my pronunciation. Aside from being a well-known artist, Donatella also has a degree in literature, so she knows a great deal about archaic and poetic words and also the difference between Florentine pronunciation and other kinds. She told me something very interesting: the character Masetto's name is a diminutive of "Maso" which in turn is a diminutive of "Tommaso," which of course is "Thomas" in English. So "Maso" is "Tom" and "Masetto" is "Tommy"!
We finished at 6.30, then Donatella made dinner, since Gary is only here during the day. It was a vegetarian meal--she's on a strict low cholesterol, no sugar diet, which makes me very happy, and she understands (unlike my teacher in Lucca) that I eat little. So this time, I don't feel guilty for not having three or four servings of everything! We had vegetable soup, bruschette, both smoked and regular mozzarella, and fruit.
That evening, we and her husband drove into the city for the final dress of Pelléas et Mélisande. The brochure of the Maggio Musicale listed Cecilia [Bartoli] as Mélisande, so I was very much looking forward to it and to saying hello to her again; but when we got the Teatro Communale, I saw on the poster in the lobby that the Mélisande was to be my old friend from the Studio, Ana Maria Martinez! What a pleasant surprise!
The production and costumes were ugly and the staging static. Actually, it looked a bit like a cross between Star Wars and The Wizard of Oz. I went backstage afterward to say hello to Ana, who gave a completely wonderful performance. Was she ever surprised to see me!
28 June 1999
I've been far busier this visit than I ever was on my first, and although I've really seen very little of Florence itself (which my friends and family will not credit), my days have been satisfyingly full. Tuesday afternoon, after lessons in the morning, Donatella and I went by bus into the city so that I could change money and buy some books. We went to Marzocco, a very large bookstore in Via Martelli.
Wednesday, I went around with Donatella because she had errands to run. We stopped at a fellow artist's apartment, an American woman who is in charge of some exhibit that Donatella is taking part in. Rebecca, as she's called, has lived in Paris, so she's fluent in French, and is married to an Italian musician and has lived in Italy for over 20 years, so she's also fluent in Italian. I'm so envious! Ana has had an Italian boyfriend these past two years. When she left Houston in '95, she couldn't speak a word of Italian; now she's conversant. I guess I either need to live here or find myself an Italian boyfriend.
Saturday morning, I went with Donatella to experience an Italian supermarket. What a zoo! The aisles are extremely narrow, extremely crowded; no one says scusi, but then no one seems to mind being squeezed past or having their carts rudely pushed aside. This is one circumstance where I think Americans are much more courteous and civilized. The Italians move themselves and their carts through the aisles in much the same way they drive their cars on these narrow, busy streets. And I was a bit embarrassed for Donatella because she tends to park her cart in the most inconvenient spots, mostly right in the middle of the aisle; and then I was trying to move it out of everyone else's way, but after a while I gave up. They didn't care, anyway; they just shoved it aside if they couldn't pass.
All the while we shopped, Donatella made me read prices out loud, because I'm so bad at numbers. Shoppers near us would hear me call out, "Quattromilaottocento, oppure qurant'ottocento" and smile in amusement.
To be continued. . . .
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