Everything is more colorful...

I woke up at 7am this morning and headed out for a jog along the Arno River here. I ran up to Piazza Della Michaelangelo to have a moment with this view before the crowds showed up. There's something about being in a place that's normally absurdly overcrowded when it's silent... I enjoyed a little hiatus on my run, and took in the view over a quick morning espresso.

Then I headed up to one of my favorite spots, the Basilica San Mineato El Monte behind the piazza. It's one of the highest points in Florence, and has an unbelievable view of the city, and it was a favorite spot that I always liked to go read. At 5 o'clock each day, monks from the monastery enter the Basilica and sing - I didn't get to see them this time, but it's pretty amazing.

I spent the first part of the afternoon today running errands around town, and consciously taking note of a few lessons I've learned as one returning to a place I was once familiar with:

1. It takes a few days to re-assume the local "places to go, people to see, not polite moving through crowds" mindset. My initial instinct is to smile and say "buongiorno!!" to every person I see in the street because I'm so happy to to be here. I'm learning quickly because I end up either almost getting run over, or being misconceived as hitting on everyone in Tuscany, and neither is a good thing!

2. I do not remember my shortcuts.

3. God is very present. Even here.

4. A smile and a nod can get you through a conversation that has surpassed your bilingual capacity, but taking a stab at a reply is much more fun.

I went back to the old writer's cafe, Guibbe Rosse (translates in English to "Red Coats"), this morning to read and write. I used to go here 3 years ago almost every morning to do my Italian homework, and got to be friends with an older gentleman named Mauro. He would help me with my Italian homework and my accent, and serve me one of the largest espressos I was able to find in the city. I went back this morning for nostalgia's sake, knowing there was a slim chance he would be there, let alone remember me. I was wrong about both. Mauro and I sat in a booth for 30 minutes and I gave my rusty Italian my best shot, and I explained why I was back in town. How sweet it is to have the privilege of catching up with an old friend.

All this to say, something about this country makes my world more vivid. Today, my cup runneth over with joy unspeakable, and I feel exceedingly grateful to experience it.