Florence – Getting Acquainted With Others

I wake up from my nap to discover no-pants-plastic-bag-rustler has moved out, and ferocious sleeper is napping right along with me. I begin to stir and I can hear ferocious sleeper coughing and sniffling a bit – does she have a cold? I fold up the extra blanket I was using and as I pass her bed, I decide to be bold and ask: Are you alright?

Oh yes, she says, I’m fine. And we’re off and chatting. Her name is Barbara and she speaks with an English accent, but is actually from Germany. She asks me about my travels, etc. and I share that after this trip, I’m not really sure what lies on the horizon. She asks me what I wanted to do as a child and I suddenly have a clear memory of wanting to be a writer as a kid. I haven’t thought about that in a long time and I am surprised to recall that I can actually articulate the moment I gave up on that dream. It was during a guest speaker class activity in 8th grade. We all had to pick a profession and then we were given salaries accordingly. The idea of the project was about learning to budget money and living expenses, etc. But I distinctly remember that most other kids had picked lucrative jobs and that as I looked at my piddly allowance, I felt like I had chosen wrong. And it wasn’t that I was ashamed, or afraid of not having money, but that I felt distinctly like I had made a wrong and foolish choice. After that, I never said I wanted to be a writer again. So I share this story with hear and soon I hear myself saying, but really – it would be cool if I could just write my blog and somehow support myself.

But the kicker is that I have no formal training in writing, and who would want to hire some Joe Schmoe who thinks she’s hilarious and interesting enough for the world to read? Answer: no one. Thus I’d have to go back to school….and I’m not so sure if I’m into that. But my new friend Barbara tells me that in Germany, it’s possible to get internships or jobs with papers or publication companies, etc. and get your feet wet. Hmmm, this is quite interesting. Then I learn that Barbara herself has just published her first book. This is really interesting. So I ask my new friend if she’d like to have dinner with me. She accepts and we agree to meet in 30 minutes after I do a little quick emailing.

I bust down to the common room to do said emailing and I recognize a guy (among others) that I had seen the previous night, who was also using his nifty MacBook. Since we both have such a rad computer, I sit next to him, open my laptop and enthusiastically say hi (I’m feeling quite bolstered by my unexpectedly fun conversation a few minutes before). He responds in kind and we quickly get to chatting – another American, yay! He is from South Carolina (cutest little accent, btw) and is on a break from a study center in Switzerland called L’Abri with a few other students (other peeps in the room). It’s just about dinner time and they ask me to join them, but unfortunately I have just made plans with my roommate (why does it always work out this way? It seems as though it can never be a steady flow of people; always all or nothing). But we agree to meet up for gelato at 10 instead. I’m so excited – more friends! And these ones speak English as a first language to boot – woo hoo!

I head off to dinner with Barbara, thankful I don’t have to sit through a repeat performance of the third wheel tonight and we wander until we find what she deems as an “authentic” ristorante (apparently Rick Steves’ opinion doesn’t mean much in Germany). Fine with me – I don’t care. We continue to chat about writing and as I’m telling her about my dissatisfaction with Venice (feeling more than simply lost but absolutely disoriented) and she asks me, “Is it possible that how you feel about Venice is really just a projection of how you feel about your life right now?” Whoa. Great question. I sit on that for a while and realize that, though she’s right….why did I feel that way? Why only in Venice? Hmm, food for thought.

We continue to chat about writing and even though I’m encouraged about the whole notion of actually pursuing a job relating to writing, I’m also simultaneously deflated. The kinds of questions she asks me and the way she is able to see and apply literary techniques to my own freaking life, is just so far above my head I think – there’s no way I could do that. I’m far too logical. Things go from point A to point B for me and the small, somewhat interesting non-linear observations I manage to come up with (like the bit about Michelangelo’s unfinished Pietá) seem to be just ideas that are plopped into my head, not really of my own volition. I don’t know if I could cut it.

Soon it is 10:00 before I realize it and I have to quickly depart from the ristorante to race back to the hostel to meet my other new friends. I am at least 10 minutes late, but thankfully, he is still there – whew! I internally cringe about the first impression I’m making, but (shrug) at this point, there’s nothing I can do about it. Turns out he had to leave the group early to meet me in time (d’oh!) but we run into them on our way out, so all is well.

We head out in the direction of Rick’s recommendation for the best gelato in town (did I mention he is also a Rick fan?), but unfortunately when we get there, it’s closed (it being late and on a Sunday and all). We pop into another shop, but it doesn’t have what we’re looking for (good cones and vanilla gelato), so we move on. Everyone is getting restless at this point, so most of the group heads back to the hostel and Philip (my new buddy) and I continue the search.

We end up unsuccessful in the hunt for gelato, but we are satisfied with forgoing the search in lieu of continuing our walk for good conversation. Before long though, it is chilly and quite late, so we head back to the hostel. We again run into the rest of his group and they invite me to go to the Science Museum with them tomorrow morning. I have no plans and the two things I know I want to do are closed tomorrow: seems like the perfect solution to me.