"Homer, my dear."

As I write to you now, I'm approaching the end of my Wednesday and the beginning of Thursday-which basically means it's the weekend. Let's reflect back on my first week of school in Italia, and oh, what a crazy and interesting week it has been. Monday: As much as I love Italy, and as much as I was excited for the classes I would be taking, I will NEVER be a fan of waking up early. Just saying. I feel like night classes would be much more productive for me. Anyway, Photographing Florence: the teacher seems pretty cool, and I think it will be a great learning experience for me. We already have an assignment of doing a "self-portrait." I'm thinking about taking a picture of a cute Italian family, since the picture is supposed to be a reflection, not necessarily an actual photo of ourselves. Advanced Italian: Maybe the word "advanced" in Italian is a joke or something because my class is most definitely not advanced. They pretty much put anyone who had any Italian experience whatsoever in that class, so we've been going over the basics of the basics so far, and it's still hard for some people. However, my teacher mentioned today that she would be splitting up the class even more, so who knows, the "new" class might kick my dedrio (don't worry-it means tush). You know what they say, though, be careful what you wish for. ALSO, my hypothesis on me looking too Italian to get hit on has some legitimate backup now. On the first day we all had to go around and our teacher Monica asked each of us questions (in Italian, of course) like name, where we're from, if we've been to Italy before, what we think of it, etc. And when she got to me she asked if I had any family in Italy. I told her no, but that my great grandparents were from Sicilia, and she said, "Ah si, hai gli occhi e i capelli italiani." (ah yes, you have the Italian eyes and hair) and then some other stuff that I couldn't understand because Italians talk way too fast for their own good. SEE PEOPLE, YOU HEARD IT (from me) FROM AN ITALIAN YOURSELVES. Also, example #2 of legit Italian backup: I went grocery shopping today, and a guy who worked there goes "Sei Susana?" (are you susana?) Or at least that's what I think he said. Once again, too fast. I must've looked like a deer in headlights when I responded "Che?" He repeated himself, and I said no, because clearly, I'm not Susana...or whatever the heck he said. But still, Italian look alike points. Me being Italian-2. Me being American-0. The road to an Italian boyfriend is looking more and more treacherous each day. Anyway, back to school. Then I had my Italian cinema class for 3 hours. Staying awake in a 3 hour class where the teacher talks NONSTOP and finds every little thing in a silent film amusing is a difficult task. Let's hope that one improves next week. Monday-done. Tuesday: Life & Works of Michelangelo (...or so she thought!) My friends and I go to our 9am class, and after the teacher hands out the syllabus which reads "Italian Renaissance Art", everyone's a bit confused. Turns out that they told our teacher that Italian Ren. Art was on Tuesdays and Michelangelo on Thursdays. She teaches both courses, so it's no big deal, right? NO. Apparently, this is too much for her to handle so she goes all frazzled and uncomfortable on us. I'm talking like, painful to watch type of uncomfortable. Lady, chill. It's all good in the Italian hood. So after she gets over her little freak out, she starts talking about Michelangelo. Except if you weren't paying close attention you would have NO idea with all the UMMs she threw in there. If I could take every UMM that woman used and turn each into a grain of rice I would have enough food to end world hunger. Seriously. Gesu Cristo! Talk about distracting. I actually started counting at one point, no joke. Once you get past all the UMMs, however, lady knows what she's talkin 'bout. We went on a quick walk around the city, and she enlightened us with some pretty interesting knowledge. I think I'll stay in the class. Italian: Same as the day before. History of Tuscany: Here comes the big one. Let me just preface this by saying that on my first class day I got to have an experience that the majority of people will never come across in their entire lifetime. This is the class taught by the count, so that in itself is incredible. He's an intriguing older man, with large facial features, a round belly, and nearly always a pipe in his mouth buried somewhere amongst his unruly greyish white beard. He's Florentine through and through, but has the best British accent (charming points just exponentially multiplied!). Oh yeah, he also likes to make witty comments and jokes that 99% of the time go over my head. So I just giggle nervously and nod my head a lot around him. This class, like my Italian Cinema, is also 3 hours long. 1st hour-great. 2nd hour-I may or may not have been dosing off. Hey, you try getting up at 7:30am to have a 9 hour class day. I'm not the only one who had some trouble (Nicole, I'm calling you out, girlfriend! Sorry.) Then hour 3 came along, and ho-ly gelati, I had no idea what I was about to experience. He took us to his place/mansion/palazzo/whatever the proper name for it is. We go upstairs and he takes us into this tiny room with tons and tons of books and archives. What archives, you ask? Very, VERY important Florentine archives. So his family is a pretty big deal in Florence (got their start in money-lending he says), and he has documents dating back to the 1050s, I believe he said. He says, "Oh I've got just the one for you, my little Oscar nominee friend" and pulls a big archive folder off of the shelf, flips through some reeeeally old looking documents, and then hands me a little booklet with what appears to be a coat of arms on the front cover and tells me to read. It's in Hebrew, so I read it, but told him I didn't know what it meant and asked if it was his family's coat of arms. He then proceeds to explain that no, it isn't. Instead, it's the handbook or something for the Order of San Francisco (this is me making up names because at this point I was in such a daze of amazement I was only half listening to what he said). He says, "In order to be in this group you had to meet certain requirements. Two of those being you couldn't be a Jew or a heretic. Now tell me, if Jews weren't allowed in, then why on earth would the first thing in their book be written in Hebrew. Hmm? There's a historical mystery for you to figure out." WOW. That's not even the biggest trick he's got up his sleeve. He mentions that he has letters from KING PHILIP II OF SPAIN. No big deal, everyone's got one of those lying around their house somewhere, right? So he has these, along with documents about Michelangelo, projects to trade with Constantinople, the usual. And as if our jaws hadn't all dropped far enough to the ground yet, he takes us into another room. Immediately he pulls a painting off of a wall, comes up to me and says, "Hold this for me would you, darling?" I'm scared out of my mind, but of course I do as he says. He shows us the way it was made and how old it is. I ask who it's by, and he says it's Jacopo Pontormo. PONTORMO, PEOPLE! For those who fell asleep in their art history classes, Pontormo's a pretty big deal. Here is what is in most art history books and what he is best known for http://cache.gawker.com/assets/images/gawker/2008/01/300px-Jacopo_Pontormo_004.jpg. And here is what I held: http://imagecache6.allposters.com/LRG/30/3034/P8UBF00Z.jpg. Let's just say I about fainted when he said that, but I couldn't because then I would be that girl who dropped the painting by Pontormo. Party foulllll. Then we went on his balcony to see the amazing view of Florence at night. THEN we saw his little chapel with another Pontormo piece, after he told us that his family has special permission from the Pope or something to have Mass whenever they like, however they like. He could have it done in Algonquin if he wanted to. Craziness! I felt like I was in a movie already, and then we walk into another fabulous room with a bust by the door. My friend asked, "Who is that of?" To which he replies in his fabulous British accent, "Homer, my dear." Except it was more like, "Homa, my dea." I swear, I'm stuck in a movie. Maybe it doesn't sound so amazing to you, but it was just this incredible moment. Then before we left, he managed to show us a huuuuge painting of his grandmother. Grandma happened to do some pretty big things, like starting the FASCIST MOVEMENT for women in Florence. (Grammie-were you and Mussolini buddies back in the day?) Way to make plays, Grandma. So yeah, needless to say, I was quite woken up after that little field trip. Hopefully there will be more of those little excursions, and I will do everything I can to be his favorite student. I must.


Well, if you made it through that whole thing, mazel tov. You're a real trooper. You'll have the next few days to recover, though, and then be prepared to read about my weekend in Chianti with my school here: http://www.tenutailcorno.com/index.html. Now to bed, buona notte tutti!