A Visit From Home Sweet Home

My mom and brother came to Italy last week to visit us. They flew into Rome, where they stayed for two whirlwind days, and then took the fast train to Firenze. They arrived late in the morning on a warm, gray, and slightly rainy Tuesday. It was so great to have them here! My brother, Brian, had never been out of the country (because, honestly, Mexico doesn't really count) and my Mom had never been to Florence. To have Italy, especially Florence, be Brian's first out-of-America experience was such a treat.
We took them to a few of our favorite spots: we enjoyed the view of Firenze on a sunny, cloudless day at Piazzale Michelangelo; we wandered Piazza Signora and marveled at the statue garden; we stopped by ever-popular Revoire for a heavenly hot chocolate; we delighted in stracciatella gelato from Perche no!; we bought bread, cheese, salami, prosciutto, and wine at Mercato Centrale and relaxed with our delicious picnic while overlooking the city in Fiesole. We also had a few new experiences with them. Namely, we [finally!] saw Michelangelo's David. And WOW! He is truly impressive. There is a copy of the David in Piazza Signora and a bronze replica in Piazzale Michelangelo, both of which I have seen several times. So, I thought I had basically already seen the David. I was wrong. The real David is a true masterpiece. When I rounded the corner of the Galleria dell'Accademia where the David is displayed, I literally stopped in my tracks when I saw him. There his stands, perfect in all his glory in the center of the museo at the end of the hall under a beautiful canopy of natural light. All seventeen feet of him. Standing before the David is humbling to say the least. To see the slabs of marble from which Michelangelo produced - no created - such a work of art is incomprehensible. I sat on one of the benches provided around the backside of the David to just sit and admire. Several groups of teenagers where at the museum, and I happened to sit down right next to one of these groups. A young, Italian girl stood in front of me gesturing towards the David's behind with gabbing fingers and giggling toward a group of teenage boys sitting next to me. What can I say. I had to agree with her. The David does have a rather grab-worthy behind.


After visiting the David, we all decided we needed a little pick-me-up. A caffe was in order. We took my Mom and brother back to Caffelatte, a little cafe I mentioned several posts ago where I had a to-die-for caffelatte (in a huge bowl). This next story may embarrass my mother, but it is entirely too funny not to share. When we first walked in to the cafe there was a bit of language confusion. The woman kept yelling at us in Italian, and we were all very confused and flustered. I kept trying to say: "Mi dispiace, non parlo Italiano. Parla inglese?" - I'm sorry, I don't speak Italian. Do you speak English? But I was drowned out by the woman, my brother, my Mom, and Ian as we all tried to say various things to one another. The first day my Mom and brother arrived, we taught them to say "Non parlo Italiano" and "Parla inglese?" In this moment, however, my Mom's wires got crossed and she kept insisting: "No parla inglese" - a broken version of I don't speak English. The woman looked at my Mom and said: "Parla?" Well, what do you speak? I apologized and said we speak English and that my Mom was just confused. The cafe owner did, in fact, speak English and we were able to order our drinks with less confusion. It was just a misunderstanding and only slightly embarrassing. The rest of the day, my brother and I kept cracking each other up by responding "No parla inglese" to any question.


One of the most unique experiences we had while they were here, and one I hope to not repeat, was visiting an Italian hospital. I will start by saying that my brother has a severe allergy to nuts (can you guess where this is headed?). Their second night here we took them to a restaurant I had been wanting to try: Trattoria Za-Za. They boast a menu of typical Tuscan dishes and a lively atmosphere. It was a cold and rainy night, so we figured it would be nice to sit and relax at a restaurant for a few hours. Brian had trouble deciding what to order but finally settled on a dish of chicken with truffle sauce and potatoes. It sounded really good! Truffles. Yum! After a few bites, Brian turned to the waitress and asked: "Does this have nuts in it?" She was confused, but we pointed to a walnut in my salad, and she beamed: "Yes!" Needless to say, this was not good. My brother panicked. The waitress brought over another waitress who explained that the truffle sauce had ground-up walnuts in it. Luckily, my Mom had Brian's epi pin, so he was able to inject himself right away. We quickly finished eating (they took away Brian's plate and didn't charge us for his meal...our poor waitress felt so bad!). We took Brian to a 24-hour pharmacy and the man working decided to call an ambulance, just to be safe. Ian and I were able to walk to the hospital and we almost beat the ambulance there! All the one-way streets in Florence make walking almost always faster than driving. Ian, my Mom, and I sat in the waiting room waiting to hear the prognoses. After about 45 minutes, they called my Mom back. When she came back out to the waiting area she explained that Brian was doing fine and told us that we could go home and get some rest. It was nearly 11:00 p.m. The hospital wanted to keep Brian for a few more hours just to monitor him. After several hours of sitting and waiting, my Mom and brother checked him out and went back to their hotel. Brian was ok, just a little shook up. If nothing else, it was a valuable experience to be careful about what you eat in a foreign country, especially with a food allergy. And the cost? Italy is on a national health care system meaning health care is low-cost or no-cost for EU citizens. While it's not free for Americans, my mom paid only 25 euros for the emergency room. Lord knows what that little adventure would have cost back home. And we think public health care is a bad idea???

Either way, Brian was safe and sound. I was happy to see him feeling much better and in good spirits the following morning. We enjoyed a full day of sight-seeing and meandering through the city. It was their last day in Firenze, so we made sure we had fit in everything they wanted to see and do. Friday after lunch we walked them back to the train station to send them off to Roma and back home. We were sad to see them go, but so glad they were able to come. My poor mom even cried as we said goodbye. Sigh. Ian and I are truly blessed with wonderful, loving families.


Today, Sunday, Ian and I are packing our bags and preparing for a short trip to Pisa and Cinque Terre. We are definitely looking forward to our trip. It feels funny to be so excited to take a vacation while we're on a vacation, but I realized something while we were guiding my Mom and brother around Florence: it finally occurred to me that we live here. We're no longer just tourists in Firenze. We know our way around town without a map, we grocery shop, we pay bills. We're residents, of sorts. And it really does feel more like home. When Ian and I are walking around the city and I say, "I'm ready to go home," I mean home to our apartment, not home, Colorado home. Although I always have to offer that clarification so Ian doesn't think I'm getting all homesick. It's like Freshman year in college: whenever you say, "I'm ready to go home," there's always a clarifying sentence that follows to explain whether you mean home, the dorm room, or home, where you're from. Our little apartment on Vicolo del Barbi does feel like home. So maybe it's not so funny to be excited to take a vacation from our life in Firenze.