Hey everyone! It's been way too long since I last wrote, but let me just tell you, it's been— wait, I bet you can guess for yourself— crazy, intense, wild. Lets start quickly with this last weekend or rather Thursday night, when Christopher walked into my room holding a tissue and asking if he'd just found bed bugs. The short answer was yes.We spent the next three days packing and cleaning, searching every crevice in the house for the evil red critters. Everyone was so happy to be back from Italy at first, but the comfort and familiarity of home wore off almost immediately as we realized how much we liked Italy and vacationing in Florence. Instead of hopping a bus to San Marco, and walking the wide cobbled streets to the market or to get some of Edwardo's gelato, we sit in class, go to work, and cook our dinners. Oh well, such is life. Still, I can look back at the fantastic times we had there and tell you a little bit about them!
I last wrote on Friday, the day I decided to spend in relaxation at the villa. I'll let you fill in the blanks for our activities on Saturday: we were young, energetic, and coming to an end of our Italian visit, and we went to town looking for adventure. Each of us went our own way, finding new sights, new shops, and new foods. If we supported the leatherworking economy, we practically built pillars for the gelaterias. By nightfall, we were all back at the top of the hill, turning in a little early to be ready for church the next day.
The good people of Chiesa Evangelica were looking forward to seeing us again, and we couldn't disappoint. Truthfully, we were looking forward to visiting again. Caleb left early, and most of us decided to go with him. We actually arrived before the pastor, who jokingly asked us, all in Italian, if we'd slept there. The rest of the congregation trickled in soon after, and we joined together in worship. Caleb filled the house with music as the congregation joined his piano and we all sang from the Italian hymnals. Regardless of how well we knew the words, Caleb's teaching paid off, and we could at least hum in harmony. We did sing, however, and when the familiar tune of Amazing Grace swept from the front, the pastor encouraged us delightedly to sing in English. Someone translated the sermon for us again, and then we took communion. I'm not really sure what I was expecting. I think I wanted a deep spiritual moment of interconnectedness as I followed my classmates up to the front and took my place sandwiched between an old Italian lady and one of my friends. However, we joined hands to pray, and everything was comfortably familiar. The elders passed bread down the line and followed it shortly with a large cup; we ate and we drank, and then we went back to our seats. After the service we mingled with the congregation, exchanging hugs and handshakes, and then with lingering steps, we crossed the threshold for the last time.
Monday night held our celebration dinner and performance with Villa Morghen, so Sunday night was our last night in town. Many of us simply wandered the streets in small groups, enjoying the final glimpses of Florence in her sparkling splendor. At night, the darkness covers the blemishes and the cracks, and everything looks perfect and new. The city shines, and the people reflect it with beaming faces. The commerce of the day is done, and now people are free to roam, their minds on their eyes, not on their wallets. Musicians play on most street corners by the square at the center of the city, and their music drifts into the sky with the street vendors' spinning lights. We couldn't bear to leave early— my friends and I skipped dinner to wander. Ten o'clock came, and with it the final bus, so we had to say a final goodnight to our newfound friend.
We were up bright and early the next morning, ready for our final day in town. Our deadline was set at three PM; today was a day of business. Most of us had last-minute shopping to do for ourselves or the folks back home, so we split into groups and assailed the city. From knives to scarves to tobacco, everyone got something, and our business was soon concluded, leaving us with a few final hours to explore the city. A few of us had been missing the food from the old country (you know, America) and so we kept in mind a little place we'd heard of called "The Diner". Alec and I found ourselves alone and looking for it come lunch time. We got hopelessly lost in the streets of Florence, until we stumbled across Via dell'Acqua, a name we recognized from our map. We looked to the left, and sure enough, blazing in a shaft of sun let through theatrical clouds was The Diner, proudly waving an American flag in the narrow alleyway. We walked in and drank in the Rick Astley playing over the speakers. Their food wasn't the best, (that honor is reserved for my hometown) but it was good, and more importantly, we could be unapologetically American with our Californian waitress. The manager was from somewhere in Great Britain, but we forgave him. After a hearty meal, we made our way home by way of the food market. We had one final purchase to make, one final preparation for the celebration.
The evening crawled by, but dinner finally came. The previously bare tables were covered in white cloths, and wine stood in pitchers by the plates. The people at Villa Morghen served us a delicious three course meal, and no matter how much we ate, they had more to feed us. We feasted very well. When our dinner was finally over, they called us into the main gathering room, and we partied late into the night. For the first half hour, this fantastic local guitar player led us in folk music and old Irish drinking songs, with a few classic Italian ballads mixed in. We were a little surprised. Anyway, we had a great time, and I was proud to hold his music for him. When he finished, we started our own performances. Alec, Seth, Jake, and Ian went first. Their talent? Watermelon eating. The poor boys had already stuffed themselves at dinner, and they made the next two minutes hell for themselves, and quite amusing for the rest of us. One by one we followed them, singing, dancing, and reciting poetry. The night was mostly fun, but there were a few somber and beautiful performances, which added tremendously to the whole thing. The schedule ran out, and our photographers were due to present a slideshow, but the computer needed work, so we had a brief interlude. Everyone was surprised at how many more performances leapt out on stage. Even Mrs. Bortins stood up and performed some magic tricks for us. The pictures finally worked, and we spent a long time going through each one, laughing, joking, and enjoying reminiscing on our trip.
Our evening finally concluded. We had all packed in the afternoon, and now each of us had a choice: would we go to bed for a few short hours or stay up until the bus left at four-thirty? One way or another, we made it through the night, and up the hill the next morning. The sun had not yet risen as we drove quietly through empty streets, mounted the highway, and watched the city disappear behind us.
So that's the story of our last few days in Italy. I'm so glad we made friends with the church that we did. They all send their blessings and greetings to us and our churches. We had the time of our lives, and I couldn't imagine the trip being any better. We've been talking about how much withdrawal we'll all go through at the end of the year when we have to say goodbye to the people we've spent so much time with and drawn so close to. In short, we're all so blessed to be in this crew.
Until next time,
Barnabas
No comments:
Post a Comment