Good afternoon collegiettes! Of course, it’s almost 7pm here, so I am just getting ready to eat some delicious breaded chicken that Kristen & I prepare every other day…As I’m listening to her bang assorted pots together while muttering under her breath, I am reminded that in just two short weeks, we will be moving out of our charming apartment and saying goodbye to our lovely roommates. And so, on that note, friends, I would like to dedicate this week’s blog post to some of my main greivances favorite moments of apartment living. Euro-addition.
When Kristen & I first walked in to our new home in Florence, we basically couldn’t stop jumping up and down. Okay, first of all, our view is sick. As in, it looks like we can touch the Duomo from outside our window.
Yeah, I know.
We immediatly fell in love with our Tuscan-esque backsplash, high-beamed ceilings, and midget-size charming bathroom…duh. The only problem? As you will soon find out, living in a “rustic” Â Floretine building means that more than a few components are a little bit quirky…Let me tell you what I mean.
Let’s talk about our bathroom-situation, shall we? Upon entrance, it looks like your average washroom. Admittedly a small one, but nothing too special… And then your eyes really start to take it all in.
What’s that to the right? Is that a…a…washing machine? Oh, why yes, yes it is. Entirely in Italian too. And nearly non-functional. And to the left? That teeny glass coffin-like structure in the corner? Oh, I see. That’s the shower. Add in the fact that the drain clogs so much daily that showering becomes a race against the rising water, and you’ve got yourself our stereotypical abroad-style bathroom.
Stepping down the hallway, you run in to our bellisima cucina. Now, granted, the kitchen in our apartment is absolutely gorgeous. All rose-colored tiling and spectacular views of the Duomo. But I know from experience, it’s hard to focus on the scenery when you’re watching our fire-hazard of a gas oven light Kristen’s scarf on fire as she hums to herself nonchalantly over the penne.Â
Moving away from the death-trap that is the stove, you reach our relic of a refrigerator. In between the tomatoes with frozen middles and leaking Brita, you’ll find the bags of vegetables that Kristen and I ambitiously buy every week, only to forget about as soon as the weekend hits, until they disintegrate into a soupy mess on to our roommates’ food. Nice.
And just a few steps to your right will take you to la fenestra, from which you can look out on to the gorgeous Piazza San Giovanni.
Or the awning of our favorite pizza place…at least, it was our favorite pizza place before that fateful morning when I walked down for my afternoon “salami piccante”, only to be informed by an irrate Italian-speaking employee that someone from our apartment had vomitted on to the awning.
Now, eventually the mystery was solved and the guilty party was no one in our apartment…but still. Talk about awkward.
Move from the window, and you are just an arm’s reach away from one of the many charming light fixtures in our home…sans light bulbs. Sitting in near darkness at the kitchen table every night really motivates me to stay in and study, especially when I know there is the chance my paper writing is going to be punctuated by a sudden and unprompted apartment-wide blackout.Â
Nothing says abroad problems like trying to operate an Italian switch board.Â
But no worries, it’s not as though we can’t open up the windows to let in some light from the Piazza! Just make sure its on a day when a slew of angry protestors, chanting African bands, political debates, marathon-runners, or Rennaisance processions aren’t occuring directly outside our apartment.
Remind me when that is again?
And yet, as I finish writing you a guided tour of our home and Florence and all of its issues, I can’t help but feel a tugging affection for the quirks of this place and the memories we have made here. Whether it’s Kristen and I arguing in the middle of the night and waking up our roommates, or finidng guests we forgot we invited asleep on our miniature couches, apartment-living in Florence has kept us laughing and loving life here abroad.
And so on that note, collegiettes, I think I’ll go help Kristen clean up tonight’s dinner.
Did I mention the oven doesn’t work?
Until next week!