Be IN! Coffee = INspiration. Books = INformation. Beer = INtentional Enjoyment.
My knowledge of history is lacking in big places. Facts and dates, names of places even, sift through my sieve brain. When it came to World War II and the holocaust – the “final solution” – I was notably deficient in perspective.
With a few days back in Prague, I signed up for a tour of Terezin. The Nazi “gift of a town” it was a neighborhood turned ghetto-concentration-camp-holding-pen of disease, death and misery… and art.
The train stopped on the tracks 200 yards past a rural station.
We were about an hour into a Praha to Vienna trip and as my computer clocked continued increasing I ticked down to 0 from the 7 minutes I had to make my connection back home – the last one for the night. I glanced out of the window and saw conductors and then passengers start to meander past.
My tummy rumbled and I thought again of the somewhat-past-prime vegetables I had removed from my bag in the morning. At the time I thought “I’m going to regret this later.” Indeed. An announcement in German was of little assistance and so I turned to my fellow cabin mates.
“I’m sorry but do you know what is going on?”
“Something on the track ahead… we have to wait.”
“Did they say how long?”
“No.”
Over the course of the next hour plus, between getting fresh air, stretching on the segmented gravel, and a few picture opportunities, I learned of the accident at a crossroad on our track. I said a silent prayer for the person, family and friends who were all having a much worse day than I. An 140 minute delay is naught compared to life’s other wreckage.
Sitting back in my computer as we slowly made our way down the tracks I mentally prepared for changing arrangements. Again, glancing out of the window I breathed deep for the beautiful sunset over russet trees and fields of green.
My inner voice sighed contentedly, “relax, appreciate what you have and enjoy the journey.”
It was an emotional challenge to fill the last page of my old journal/planner/notebook.scrapbook.
It covered just under a year. Such varying events and moments condensed into less than 100 scrawled pages of ramblings and lists.
I spent an hour flipping back through every page and copying over notes and writings that I couldn’t help but carry forward from my old tome.
After a year of weekly posts, one might think that this blogging thing would be easier. One would be quite wrong.
I still struggle to find the words to encapsulate my experiences. I’m battling the balance of living and writing especially during these full weeks. I want to be out doing, seeing, engaging, connecting, opening, expanding, loving my life with ferocity and consumptive fire.
There are rare times that I have the compulsion to write at length. Most often, however, it is a passing thought of “I should write about…” or a catchy title or sentence that I have repeating over and over in my brain.
I have pages of “starts” but few “finishes” in the banks.
When the muse visits for a long chat, I relish the words forming under my pen. I cherish the missives after the moments have passed.
It was with heavy heart that I faced the replacement my old notebook. Yet, as she often does, the Universe provided a perfect new one to purchase in Paris. And, to ease the ache, I was gifted with a glorious afternoon to first scrawl upon the pages.
My only regret is that my legs do not feel strong enough to run… that and that I not a poet nor a painter. Throwing gratitude by the fistful that I am here.
Those first days of being smitten are intoxicating.
A little extra jiggle in your step, hint of smile at the corners of your mouth, mind abuzz with the possibilities.
This is how Florence has been making me feel.
I was on the hunt for a “secret” late-night bakery a few mornings ago with a student-friend. We wandered over cobblestones and through a few wrong alleys before we discovered the correct back door — no “hot doughnuts now” announcement here and so much better for it.
Walking away from the unmarked door, under an ink sky punctuated with barks of laughter and hum of activity even at 3am, we enjoyed the most fresh, warm, delicious chocolate-filled doughnuts ever made. No guilt, just pure unadulterated pleasure.
This nicely sums Florence for me.
It was on the purposeful wander that my companion asked what I thought of Florence so far. More specifically he asked what I thought the feeling or mode of the place and it’s citizens are? Does the city agree with me.
I related that my initial impression still held but my experience was deepening and expanding. Somehow it feels more exciting then even during those first days.
I paraphrased Elizabeth Gilbert’s idea of “one word” for a city and searched for the right one to describe Firenze.
It is fitting that I could only come up with French. I still struggle to overcome my default pronunciation and responses en Francais.
The feeling I get from fair Firenze and Florentines is: Bon Vivant
The city, she is a playgirl. She is a muse, a pixie, a lounging nymph of Baccus… perhaps even a succubus.
Florence, she calls in the night, luring you out when you should know better. She makes you feel young, spontaneous, and carefree. “There are possibilities here” she whispers.
Minx-like, she makes you work for it — just enough so that you enjoy the chase.
There are so many pleasures to be shared, secrets to be unlocked, delicious morsels to be devoured. Perche non?
“But relax Cara,” she coos, “all in good time…”
Il dolce far niente
This is an actual phrase to be found in my Rick Steves guide. These Florentines, they enjoy their expansive time.
See you cannot force Florence (and Italia) to present her best to you. You simply must allow for kismet to happen on her timetable. Not to be rushed, she is worth the wait.
It is quite surprising that this NYC Gal embraces the relaxed flow of lingers and wanders. But alas, love makes us do crazy things.
On one of my first days, I overheard one of the professors tell a student, “anyone can find and fall in love in Florence.” It is true.
If you don’t find a person to fall for, Firenze will be your lover instead.
I understand why people lock themselves here.
I’m enjoying the discovery phase. Learning the history, topography, and secret spots with hidden meanings while creating new inside jokes and special places.
I have the spark in my eye, bounce in my step and sly smirk of pleasures recalled of a girl newly in love.
It isn’t a flesh and blood lover that has me so smitten, tis the bon vivant lover of fresh flesh that is this city. She who infuses her energy into our blood and beckons us into the night.
Go.
Always BeIN,
Jo
a·bout /əˈbout
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