Sunday, November 27 - Last day in Florence

Well here we are - the day we knew would come, without knowing exactly how we'd feel about it. I would say that we both are experiencing mixed feelings; on the one hand, we have lives that have been placed on "pause" in order to come, and we are anxious to get back to them. On the other hand, we've made a lot of friends, and breaking ties to the city we've called home for the last three months is far more difficult than I would have imagined. Some students talked about ways in which the experience has changed them for the better, and expressed fears about whether they would be able to maintain these new feelings/perceptions/habits. I can relate. For me, it's been an eye-opener in a different sense; I get to a new place where people speak another language, and it's easy to focus on small but annoying differences in customs and creature comforts. Then, after I've been around long enough, I begin to realize - even though I've known this all along - that the people around me are motivated by many of the same concerns and hopes that I am, and the differences between us are really just superficial. I realize that's not exactly a major newsflash, and I suppose that's the purpose of these kinds of programs to begin with, but it seems that once you go through it, it doesn't seem as trite as it sounds.

Meanwhile, though, I'm typing away, trying to capture a few events and thoughts in writing before I crash. First event was one that I missed in my last blog... last Tuesday, I actually got a chance to play! There's a jazz club here in Florence, and on Tuesday nights they hold an open jam session with the house band. Now, "open" in the world of jazz jams is somewhat ambiguous - although it might suggest that anyone is invited to join in, the welcome mat is generally extended mostly to folks who a) have some clue as to what they're doing, and, b) aren't so hopelessly out of their league in the venue that others get frustrated and want to throw things at them. I'd been to this club a few times before, and most nights I was perfectly happy to sit and watch, as many of the players were really, really good - one trumpet player, for example, was a New York guy who was smoking hot, and no way in hell would I have set foot on that stage that night. Last week things had slowed down to the point where I might have given it a try, but I didn't have a horn with me and we left early anyway. This week, I came prepared, and since I'd gotten to know (okay, well, at least we might recognize each other if we met on the street) the other musicians, I decided to give it a try. Only had time for one tune - St. Thomas - but it was fun, and I'm anxious to get home and get back to the horns.

By the way, we just lost power here. The weather has been strange all of a sudden; last week we had this major cold snap (below freezing several days), and for the last couple of days it's been raining. Tonight, we've got lightning, thunder, and wet snow. I don't know if this is normal in cold climates, but it's the weirdest thing I've seen in a long while. Thank heavens for laptops!

Today - our last full day in Florence - also turned out to be the day of the Florentine Marathon, and since we were awakened at about 7:00 by race organizers who were starting people at the Piazalle Michelangelo, we decided to get out and have a look. The route seemed to wind itself all over town, and ended up at the Santa Croce church, about a half mile away, where we walked out to see what was happening. At the time they were running a kids' junior marathon, so I hung around taking pictures while the kids finished. Man, there's nothing like events like that to provide photo-ops. It seemed that everywhere I pointed the camera, there was some image that compelled me to press the shutter. You don't even have to be good to get these, I don't think - you just have to keep your eyes open.

After the kids' race we walked over to the Duomo, and caught a few glimpses of the wheelchair competitors and the leaders of the main event. They ran by and we were appropriately impressed, but what really stuck with me was this one guy who hobbled by on crutches. I don't know what time he must have started, but this was 26 kilometers into the race (a little over sixteen miles), and he was plugging along. People cheered - it was impossible not to - but then we had to run over to the train station for an extra suitcase, so we left the route, thinking we'd hurry up and catch some lunch before it got too late.

After picking up the suitcase and dropping it off at home, we decided to walk back by the finish line at Santa Croce and have another look. By this time the leaders had long since finished and rain was threatening, and when we finally got there it was actually hailing on the runners who were crossing the line at the four-hour mark. This compelled me to find a spot along the barrier and cheer for the people coming in, and so we spent a few minutes taking pictures of these guys who were going for it in such miserable weather. Just when we were ready to take off for lunch, though, we heard a round of cheers from the rest of the crowd, and so we stopped to see what was happening. Turns out that the guy on crutches - the one we saw at the 26 km mark - was rounding the corner and finishing the race. All I could think was, man... that's hardcore. We all have our crosses to bear, but if that guy can do 42 km on crutches, then he has my profound respect.

Pretty soon, though, it was time to grab lunch, go back to the apartment and finish some last-minute packing and clean up, get dinner with Judith and Amy, and get ready to leave. One minute we're here, and now we're almost gone. Seems now like there's so much more I would have liked to do, but I suppose that's all the more reason to come back. It was a drag to say goodbye to the people we've befriended, but we'll have to make sure we see them all again.

Next stop, Los Angeles. Hope the weather isn't too bad to fly out tomorrow...

Arrivederci!
-Leanne