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Iced Latte
[Lindsay Straub]
Shocking. Surprising. Different. Confusing. Amazing. Breathtaking. Exactly the same. Those are just a few of my first impressions of Florence, my new home for the next four months. Before I describe the details of the once foreign, now increasingly familiar life that surrounds me, I’d like to disclose a personal anecdote from my first week in town. Suffering from slight withdrawals of an extra large coffee, which I religiously drank every morning, I ventured out to the streets of Florence in search of a café latte. “Buongiorno,” the waitress behind the counter said.
“Ciao, uno iced latte per favore.”
First, she looked at me funny, but then began to prepare the drink. When she brought it to the table, the liquid looked very white, almost like a glass of milk. Come on, there is no way I ordered iced milk, I thought to myself. I stirred in my usual four teaspoons of sugar thinking the coffee must be at the bottom of the glass. The drink was still pure white, but maybe coffee is made differently here? After one sip it was clear that the drink was indeed iced milk—milk that I had just doused with sugar.
No, this was not one of my best first experiences in Florence, but it was a learning experience nevertheless, and a funny one. “Iced latte” does in fact translate to iced milk. Reality was starting to set in and culture shock was not far behind. I am living in a place where English is not the primary language. Words and phrases have different meanings than those in the United States. Learning to speak and understand the Italian language is certainly a welcomed challenge, one that can apparently start by ordering an iced latte.
The first thing I saw when I got off the plane in Pisa was an Ikea store. Who knew there would be an Ikea in Italy! Before traveling abroad, I pictured a country of rooftop villas. In reality, Italy is a country. Every country has cities, and I am fortunate enough to live in the heart of one. My seven housemates and I were waiting for our landlord to tell us there has been a mistake and that the entire first floor, including two balconies, didn’t belong to us. The roof of the apartment building overlooks the tip of the world-renowned Duomo cathedral. We have the luxury of a phenomenal restaurant located right below us. It’s a dream come true. If we don’t want to cook, a good meal is only one flight of stairs and about ten feet away. Our parents love our neighbors across the street: the Reale Farmacia and Ceruti, a religious shop. Basically, a doctor is always on call and priests and other religious figures are constantly on our street. Earlier this week, a few people on a tour bus waved at me while I ate breakfast on our balcony. Coming from a town located right outside New York City where the streets are more like neighborhoods void of shops and tourist attractions, trust me, no one has ever waved at me while I ate breakfast!
In a sense, the style of Florence residential life is very much like that of other major cities, especially New York City. This aspect of Florence made it much easier for me to adjust. There is a constant hustle and flow throughout the city. Everything always seems to be moving, and with every city comes tourists. Walking the streets of New York City, I sometimes find myself stopped behind a group of tourists capturing a main attraction with their video camera, cell phone, and/or digital camera. Walking past the Duomo, I’ve found myself in very similar situations. In the midst of public transportation and mass amounts of people walking the streets you can always find that couple or group of friends having lunch or even a cappuccino. This is what I love about Florence. It seems four months is going to fly by, and before I know it, I will be leaving a place I’ve grown to love. I am learning that in order to adjust in a foreign place one must keep an open mind, take things for what they are worth and revel in the differences and eccentricities that make Florence the city it is.
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