Journal entry: Sunday, January 30, 2011 9:00ish AM???

Time passes differently here.

Although I have been in Florence about four days, it feels that it has been over a week. There are no alarm clocks: I wake up when I feel rested. There are no meal times: I eat when I am hungry. I do not count the hours until my events of the day; they come to me in a casual manner. (“I guess I should get to the market before it closes,” or “I forgot to eat lunch again.”)

As I am sitting here, the Duomo’s bells signify some time of day, however I have yet to figure out what the chimes mean. There is not the typical gong count for the hour of the day, but instead an elaborate tune that extends for a minute or so. Perhaps a melody of the hour? The chimes seems to ring a lot more frequently than on the hour.

Even just the way a meal passes. On Friday, I went to dinner with my apartment mates: Sophia, Kelsey, Steph, and Lindsay. We planned to spend the meal again at the ristorante in our small piazza, Il Sasso di Dante, where a few of us had eaten the night before. I had spent the entire day in anticipation to order the lasagna that Steph had enjoyed that previous meal. (The rich and creamy, meat-filled lasagna, is simply delectable, and I will be ordering it once a week.)

Just to give a time frame, we arrived at the ristorante around 7:30PM and did not leave until much past 11PM. We spent the night being waited on by our young friend, Elsie, the waitress, who gave us tips on where to go out that night, and in conversation with the owner, an older man named Patricio (who we’ve begun to call “Pa”), who gave us tips on the Italian language and culture. Pa is has the most beautiful personality I have ever come across. I have a feeling we will be spending infinite hours locked in conversation.

Oh, and there was another significant player in the night: the young, gorgeous Italian man, who I have yet to catch the name of, that cooks up the most delicious (for lack of a better word) meal I have ever indulged in. You are a saint.

In America, we spend every minute of the day in a constant panic to the passing time, where the matter of lateness or of a wasted day is the ultimate sin against humanity. We live our lives on the basis of to-do lists, run from appointment to appointment, order food to-go, and still find ourselves wishing there were more hours in the day. How can we be so chronologically-centered when there is so much conversation and beauty in the world that will be missed?

In Italy, I feel no element of urgency. I am able to embrace every moment here. I am able to spend hours walking through the markets, or hours enjoying the company of a restaurant owner without feeling guilty, without feeling like I should be doing something else. The feeling is absolutely freeing.

I forgot to mention, there are also no clocks. In order to catch the time anywhere, I have been dependent on the silly little cell phone I carry around for emergencies, and it is rarely checked, only to figure out whether I will be late, or just the general time of day.

Maybe when I start classes tomorrow, time will hold more significance. But really, I have no desire to buy a watch.