With exactly 2 weeks left before I depart for Italy, I'm becoming increasingly aware of how unprepared I am. This isn't a bad thing. Having some ounce of possibilitá e importante, right? Maybe it's not that I am unprepared, but rather not so wound up about it.
I'm reading, "La Bella Lingua," a memoir by Dianne Hales about her love affair with Italy and the Italian language. At times it is self-indulgent, as I suspect most people are when talking about Italy (the kind of sumptuous and luscious sounding language recommends itself to be talked up...), and at the heart of the book is a story about "finding yourself." Barf.
If anything, I'd hoped that the book would put me into the mood for Italy, but it has instead served as somewhat of a taunting nuisance that points out how little I know of the Italian language. A word of advice, Spanish does not equal Italian, although I am sure my 8 years of Spanish will come in handy at some point...
For now I am passing my time by running in the chilly winter weather, and Google image-searching photographs of Florence.
14 days to go.
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