Flashback....

Today was uneventful, and so I have no photos to show for it, save for this one, which I took while sitting in front of my computer and working on my English project on Ralph Ellison's brilliant novel, Invisible Man - so brilliant, in fact, that I don't even feel particularly displeased at working on the project over break. It's due tomorrow evening, at any rate, and I've finished it for the most part, so it shouldn't bother me after tomorrow anyway.

I mailed a scarf and some photos to Armida today, making a hasty run to the post office at half past twelve to stand in an endless line. I included a packet of California poppies, which I nestled inside the scarf so that they're not immediately visible. The scarf is forest green; I knit it hastily last night, sitting in front of Under the Tuscan Sun, and trying to recall my own Tuscan adventures. I was in Siena four times - on a trip with Ryan and Aleja and Nancy in October, one of the first of many, many day trips in central Italy; with school, for the Thanksgiving trip to Florence; with my mom and Lynnette when they came for Christmas; and finally with Ani and her family when they came to visit me.

I've been elsewhere in Tuscany, but I feel so attached to Siena since I was there so often. At first it was something of a joke, since Ryan made such an effort to plan a day trip there, and then we ended up going with school. I guess he figured it was a waste to pay to go there when we would get a free ride with school just a month later. But I loved it so much, I didn't mind paying. In fact, it was because I loved it so much that I dragged my mom and Lynnette and Ani there later on in the year, simply because I wanted to go back again, to go to Nannini's, the best pasticceria north of Syracuse (and that one only wins because of its spectacular marzipan); to eat in the hidden restaurants that you'll find if you wander for long enough in the winding alleyways; to embrace the crowds in Piazza del Campo, which, after some initial skepticism, I've decided is beautiful enough to merit its reputation as best-preserved and most wonderful piazza in Italy.

In one of the little courtyards of Siena I met a handsome, soft-spoken Canadian who introduced himself and asked me, without skirting around the question at all, for my phone number. We talked for a long time, and I completely lost track of myself in his charm. When Lynnette asked me afterward what we'd talked about, I honestly couldn't remember anything but his face; he was that ridiculously dashing. I didn't see him again, as he went up to Northern Italy to do artwork while I was down in Viterbo, a full-time student. But I don't mind, because what was romantic and wonderful about the whole thing was entirely the moment. There was a violinist playing in the courtyard, and it was dusk. I thought he was Italian at first - he greeted me in Italian, asking if I spoke English. I was with my mom and Lynnette, but they faded away instantly, as did his parents. They all recognized and respected that we were just two teenagers in a foreign country, who had caught each other's eyes and smiled just so, and then of course we had to exchange a few words, and each know who the other was.

The best part was that when he asked me where I lived, I was able to say, "I live here."

Labels: 365 days, Italy, Self portrait

posted by Holly @ 10:01 PM