#6.22.13

I’m scared of a lot of things. Little things. Like racism. I’m scared I’ll be hated because of my origins. That the light skinned, fair ones secretly hold a grudge. It’s odd because I find them beautiful. Those entrancing blue eyes and blonde hair. So glorified and romanticized. All I want is that skin to be upon mine and contrast.

I have that now, I love it. I love him at every moment and am constantly grateful. He’s beautiful. He’s an unwitting innocence. So human as well. So petty. And wise.  I don’t know how he does it. He’s such a mystery. The silence that speaks volumes.

intricacies

There’s really not much to this than a ramble.

They say love is invigorating. Passionate.

A shit ton of restless and sleepless nights. All that good stuff.

And sure. I’ve had it, I suppose. I’ve also had the emotional torture, or what I thought was “love” but more of a forced emotion just for the sake of feeling “loved.”

That’s not the point of this. There’s not much of a point really.

I’m just happy. Calm. Relieved. Quiet.

In love. I am.

I’ve never been more sure, nor have I ever been better in a circumstance such as this.

I’m at peace.

Things make me happy, and things make me sad.

It’s alright.

I like sleep.

But I really like waking up in the morning.

It’s nice.

SATURDAY 

Well, after yesterday’s slap incident, I ran back to my hostel and spilled my guts to the first person I saw. Which happened to be a guy from South Korea named Swung Chul Baek (who will now be referred to as Baek, because that is a long ass name), who listened with increasingly wide eyes.

He turned out to be a really nice guy (genuinely nice, not a ‘Nice Guy’ like Italian-Perv) so I asked him if he wanted to go see the David together. I have to be honest; I mostly wanted to have someone around in case any guys got any ideas again. We also made a plan to eat a bistecca alla fiorentina together, since that’s the defining dish of Florence apparently and at 1 kilogram a serving neither of us would be able to eat it alone.

As it turned out, he wasn’t able to get into the Accademia since the line was so long. With my Museum Pass I was able to skip it, so I went in and he went to go walk around and see some piazzas.

Okay, gotta get this outta the way.

THE DAVID IS FRIGGIN HUGE. 

Like, I think I come up to its knee. I know I’m short but I’m not that short. It was also very striking how soft he looked, even though he was made of marble. His face was remarkably emotional, and he even had carved pupils, which seems to have been extremely unusual. You could see him gazing outward as if trying to see what would come next, how the world would be changed now that he had felled Goliath. He looks concerned, almost nervous. He looks really, remarkably human.

Although he apparently had badly cased sausage for a penis. Seriously it looked like he should have maybe gone to see a doctor, although Michelangelo drew every pubic curl in loving detail.

I also saw how many people blatantly ignored all the signs and guards to whip out their phones/cameras for pictures, and learned how ENRAGED that makes me. It’s just so disrespectful. Buy the goddamn picture or just download it from the Internet, taking photos – especially FLASH like most of these people were doing – is BAD FOR THE ART. STOP.

Ahem.

That museum is actually quite small – I saw everything in about an hour. So although David is of course a must see, I have to say that if you don’t have a pass and you have limited time I would weigh the cost-benefit to waiting in line for ages to see it. I did see some other pieces I liked though; my favorite was Monument to Sofia Zamoyska by Lorenzo Bartolini. It was her lying in bed, and the pillow looked so soft I wanted to sink into it. The cloth had a design on it that rippled perfectly with the haphazard folds and looked so real and silky that I couldn’t believe it was stone. There was such delicacy there, it was incredibly.

  Afterward I met up with Baek again, and we went to a trattoria his Italian friend had recommended for bistecca. There was a 20-minute wait so I dragged him over to look at the Mercato Centrale, which was located right across the street (so you knew the food was super fresh). And oh god I nearly started salivating right there. Baek asked me a bunch of questions once it became clear that, when it came to food anyway, I knew my shit.

  My favorite part was when we passed by a fishmonger who was making halibut into fillets for a customer. He literally just laid it down, stared at it for a few seconds, and then just ripped the skin and spine off. In one move. Like peeling off a sticker. I couldn’t even take a picture it was over so fast. I DID NOT KNOW THAT WAS EVEN POSSIBLE.

Learn something new everyday I suppose.

We got back to the trattoria right as they were calling our name, and sat down at this tiny little table right in the back with two other people. A bistecca alla fiorentina, for those of you not in the know, basically just means T-bone steak.

BUT ONE THAT’S AS BIG AS YOUR WHOLE HEAD.

It’s very simply cooked, especially when you request it bloody as I did. One thing I did notice about it though was that it was salted more heavily towards the bone. That meant that even when you were reaching the end (the part near the bone) and your taste buds were EXHAUSTED from eating your way through a whole kilo of meat they still got a lovely tingle from that extra punch of salt. It was really brilliant actually.

And oh god.

That steak.

  It would have been worth the journey to Italy alone. I’m salivating just thinking of it. It was so incredibly flavorful, so meltingly soft and yet toothsome. Words cannot do it justice, but I will say that I was completely silent for the entire hour it took to eat that sucker. And it was one of the best hours of my life.

  And we ate it all.

Food coma set in very shortly after, and after seeing Baek off to the train station (after trading stories about weird idioms, and finding out he loves Supernatural!) I didn’t emerge from my hostel till that afternoon.

At which point I went to the Uffizi. For the second time. I just really like it okay? To be honest I went back because I realized I’d somehow completely missed the Birth of Venus, which is supposed to be the major draw. It was quite lovely, although in a room filled with gorgeous art it wasn’t as awe-inspiring as its reputation implies. I did love how the trees were lined in gold, as is reflecting the light from a rising sun, or the radiance of Venus’ golden hair. It was a nice little detail.

  My favorite part of the day though, as much as the bistecca was a meaty revelation, was the night. I was a little nervous about going back to the Piazza de Signoria, since that was where the Italian Asshole found me. But, because I am a stubborn bitch, I decided to go back anyway. I love that square, I refused to let one jerk ruin it for me.

I picked up a cheap, but delicious!, panino on the way – goat cheese and salami. It was a special kind of Italian salami made with fennel, which was a much more prevalent taste than I was expecting. Not in a bad way, it was delicious, but it was strange when my first bite tasted mostly of fennel when I expected meat to be the dominant flavor there.

I just sat there, my ass slowly going numb against the cold stone of the steps. Statues loomed over me, and people walked throughout the square talking loudly enough to remind me of home. A brass band started up, to celebrate the patron saint of Florence. I didn’t know that at the time though, that night all I knew was that suddenly there was music all around me.

And then suddenly runners. Yeah, officials managed to set up a barricade in about 5 minutes, and then suddenly a wave of people came sprinting through the square.

Apparently it’s an annual tradition, but again, at the time I didn’t know that. There was just music and people waving and runners pushing themselves so hard I could almost feel the ache in their muscles with them. It was incredibly joyful, in a serene way that I can’t quite describe.

It was windy, so I was tucked up next to a pillar as I read about Hercule Poirot saving the day.

The brass band played under the shadow of a replica of David.

Hundreds of people wandered around me.

I literally started laughing out of joy, with tears in my eyes that I still can’t really explain. I was just so blissfully, uncomplicatedly happy. I felt surrounded by love – everyone in that square was in love in some way, whether it was with the art, or the city, or just that cutie next to them.

It was one of the best nights of my life, for no other reason than I was alive and happy.