I know many of you want me to talk about Florence and I think in time I will be able to speak of Florence's numerous charms and mysteries, but for now the immediate impressions that I have embraced relate to the selfless hospitality of my new co-workers.
Currently, life is visual expression of a symphony--one that only Disney could create. The many pieces of my life are floating about unsettled, but to a merry melody. When will I know my permanent address and be able to hammer nails into the walls? Will I have a set carpool to work next week? What is the best Internet plan for me? To what should I commit my time? I wonder when I should begin those Italian lessons? Are any of these Yoga Studios open? Will I have enough planning time at school? Am I teaching this new curriculum as intended? I wonder if I just bought dish soap or laundry detergent...Normally, this would drive me insane, but each day I tell myself and those who identify with me that it will all work out...this is highly uncharacteristic of me. However, this is "mia vita in Italia".
My one explanation for this uncharacteristic complacency is my co-workers. Everyone I have met has simply gone out of their way to help me. Each concern is answered with patience and each favor is granted with selfless hospitality. Our (meaning the new faculty) main concern right now is transportation. We have been receiving rides up to our school from a number of different co-workers. Even the academic dean goes out of her way to pick a couple of us up each morning. In the afternoon, we pack up our belongings blindly and make our way to the gate trusting that someone is going our way. One afternoon one of the teachers drove me to the local bus station. We both were staying late. I thought she would simply drop me off and go home, but instead she said, "Let's have a coffee until your bus comes."
Let me interrupt my ramblings here to talk about the Italian coffee. Not being a coffee drinker myself, I did not actually know what the coffee looked like until she ordered one that evening. The bartender (in Italian bars are more like cafes in the states that serve alcohol in the evenings as I understand) set a small white porcelain tea cup and saucer on the counter. It may have been as deep as my forefinger. However, more shockingly was that he filled it only half way. My co-worker took one sip, said something to the bartender, and then a second sip. It was gone! The bartender did not even have time to open my juice bottle and pour my glass of peach juice before the cappuccino was finished. What a contrast to the venti cappuccinos that one can order at Starbucks!
In addition to these services, some of the faculty has already made efforts to invite us into their lives. One co-worker invited the staff to go to the beach near her parents' house about 1 hour out of Florence. My mentor teacher went and offered to drive. So yesterday, I had my first experience at an Italian beach. Apparently, there are two types of beaches in Italy private and free beaches. We went to this incredible private beach called Eva Bagno. It was immaculate. The sand was actually raked and we were told that children cannot dig in the sand. It was as soft as powder; I couldn't help digging my toes into the sand and allowing the fine grains to slide off my feet. Striped tents sat in perfect lines parallel to the shore. Each tent containing two chairs, two lounge chairs, a reclining lounge with a shade and something that I could only describe as a massage lounge chair. The horizon was lined with paddle boats and sailboats that congregated randomly around each other. Opposite the horizon were gorgeous mountain peaks. We were told that the white at the top, which appeared to be snow is in fact marble...Wow! It was an amazing day. The sun was out cooking the tanning oil...yes, oil, not sunblock. What a contrast to the skin conscious country of the states. My co-workers were laughing in Italian and English, translating when possible and giving me my first Italian lesson. I now know that spiaggia means beach.
We drove home that evening and as I watched the countryside blur by and typical towns pass out of sight, I couldn't help but smile at my Italian Benvenuta. God has blessed me with many new experiences all ready, but never had I experienced such a welcome. I know that these people have their own families, daily chores, and lives, and yet they still make time for us newcomers. I can only hope that I find the same selfless attitude when life puts me in their shoes.
