Jill's Sense of Place

This weekend I met a girl named Patience. At first I thought I misheard her friends calling her name, but she then turned to me in line to board a ship to Sorrento from Capri and asked me what first name she looked like. I guessed Rachel and she was amused by my response. Then she told me what her real name was. I thought it was very cool and unique. On the other hand, that name would be the opposite of fitting for someone like me.

If there’s one thing I do not have, it is patience. Patience for people that do not know how to walk down the street and make room for others walking past them. Patience for people who stand in doorways or narrow hallways for no apparent reason while I am clearly trying to get past them. I barely have enough patience to fully tune into someone else if they are speaking with far too many crutch words such as “like”, “um”, and “uh”, if it delays my ability to string all the words they are saying together in my brain. I literally dropped a class in Madison after my first time attending lecture because the professor kept dragging out her um’s in between every word. I couldn’t concentrate. I had to leave.

Yes, I can agree that some of the instances in which I grow impatient are a bit irrational or over exaggerated, but I have my anxiety disorder to blame for that. Regardless, I still have a hard time understanding how some people, such as Italians, can live their lives at such a slow pace without any sense of urgency or worry. They possess no sense of urgency. They additionally seem to possess no concept of appropriate personal space.

In Robert Sommer’s article, “Spatial Invasion”, he defined personal space as “a culturally acquired daylight phenomenon.” He then speaks about how in circumstances such as being packed onto a public train, as our bodies have no choice but to become uncomfortably close to stranger’s, we no longer possess personal space. We also cease to possess any sort of personal traits just as all sardines look identical in a metal can. No one wants to talk to one another nor do we see those around us as other people because we are all trying to navigate our bodies from one destination to the other.

This is also how I see it. When I’m walking down the street I do not look at the people in front of me with wonder as to what their lives are like or what their names are. I look at them and am curious as to how a human body can move at 0.00000000000000000000000000001 feet per hour and why they aren’t slightly moving to make way for me and my suitcase that they can clearly see I am struggling to navigate along bumpy cobblestone streets.

Just yesterday, I was on a walking tour of the ruins of Pompeii. Our tour guide took us into this one building where old paintings remained on the walls. There was one small room where we all had to gather in to see what he wanted to show us. A couple was trying to get into the room too, but clearly could not fit. There was only one point of entry. As we all started to file out of the room, I noticed the couple then stepped into the room rather than stepping out of the room first to make way for us to all leave first (a common courtesy rule). The room in which we came from was empty. They had enough room to stand in there for a few seconds until they could walk into the painting room themselves. They were speaking Italian as I had to contort my body to squeeze past them on my way out… *eye roll*.

As much as I love living in Florence, I will never be able to grasp the lifestyle in which I consider to be far too laid back and calm for me. I love to chill and lazily hangout, but when I am out and about I am constantly looking around me and making sense of where I am within my environment. I adapt accordingly and quickly. I let the old women on the train out in front of me. I make way for some one on crutches walking past me. I move to the side for a dog walker. I get out of the way at tourist attractions after taking my own photos for others to see. I have to keep my feet moving at all times when I am on the go. I do not have the patience to slug around.

You might be thinking that I am not cut out for Italian living at this point. But the question you should be asking is: Is Italy cut out for me? I know the city won’t change or move for me, but I’d really appreciate it if the general public could just pick up the pace from time to time.

-Here is a link to a New York Times article about the walking paces of citygoers in different places around the world. –

Dear Jill in ten years,

Hi, Jill of the Future! I’m not sure if you still go by Jill or if you switched back to being called Jillian. I’m not sure which is more professional. Are you a professional? Do you have a good job? I hope you do. Because I didn’t suffer through a highly competitive academic atmosphere for you to still be living with Mom and Dad.

Anyways… I’m just writing to you because it’s almost the end of the best semester you have experienced so far. These were, most likely, some of the best times of your young adult life. I hope this brings you back a bit and brightens your day as you are probably worrying about taxes or whatever else out-of-college adults do in their free time. I’m sure you remember your time abroad in Florence, Italy, but here’s a bit of a refresher:

In Northeastern Tuscany

Where you stayed

On the Arno’s where you spent most of your days

Chillin’ out maxin’ relaxing all cool

Took some classes at a program that’s not really a school

And a couple of times you visited around the EU

Scotland, Ireland, France, and London too

You got on one little flight and your mom got scared she said,

” You’re no longer allowed to fly that cheap sketchy Ryan Air”

You ate, drank, and Instagrammed day after day

Even hit up the club to see your classmate the DJ

Searched for secret bakeries, wonderin’ where they’re hidden

2 am with friends, croissants so delicious it should be forbidden

Sense of Place was the class

That showed you how to put your thoughts on a map

Is this what living in Florence is really like?

Hmmm this might be alright!

But wait, heard they live slow-paced, and all that

Is this the type of place for an impatient American cat?

Don’t know, but you embraced the time you had here

Indulged in vino, pasta, pane until your plate’s clear…

You whistled for a cab and it didn’t come near

Because they don’t really use cabs in Florence, dear

If anything you could say walking around the city was fair

But cobble stones can be hard with the wrong footwear!

You walked past the Duomo about once a day

And said to your friends, “Life can’t get any better!”

Looked around your city and you were so glad

You made the choice to live in Florence

The best five months you’ve ever had.

*instrumentals ensue for about another minute*

(music credits: DJ Jazzy Jeff and The Fresh Prince, “Fresh Prince of Bel-Air”)

I hope that brought back some memories.

Did I mention all of the dérive-ing I did? I feel like I should mention it because I wandered everywhere. In each new city, town, or around Florence and discovered new places every day along the way.

I’m not sure if the internet is still “a thing” in your time zone or if the planet is even healthy enough to sustain human life ten years from now, but if you still have the ability to access some of your old blogs I recommend you do so. Your Sense of Place class pushed you to write a new article every week about your different experiences and relate them to academic readings. Some were interesting as for others… they were extremely dense. Either way, I’m sure you’ve used your knowledge of spatial awareness and places to take you to wherever it is you are today.

I had an incredible experience and I hope you have already returned to this city with all the money and success I know you have.

Cheers!

Ciao,

Twenty one year old Jill

As I enjoyed every tour I’ve been on as well as conducting my own tour, I think the tour that showed me an area I had never been to much before was the Oltrarno group. This is a bit embarrassing for me because I have been living on this side of the river this entire semester. However, I have never quite walked deep enough into this section I live in as I have really only walked as far back as to Ditta Artigianale and back.

As I consider the area near my apartment to be mostly residential, I typically find myself gravitating towards more populated spots for coffee, lunch, or aperitivo. Which contradicts my “I’m too lazy to walk that far” excuse for why I haven’t explored more of the city as I have walked much farther from the Oltrarno region for a meal than visited the shops and trattorias closer to me. Here are a few other places to discover in the Oltararno region.

I felt that all of the tour guides did a great job finding interesting historical background research for some of their main highlighted attractions. They also answered all of my questions to the best of their ability. I liked to see my classmates leading these tours as well as leading my own because it caused me to think about how I am going to present the city of Florence, after living here for five months, to my parents when they come to visit in May.

Considering they have not been to Italy before and have put full pressure onto me and full faith into my ability to show them a good time, I get a bit nervous everything I think about attempting to show them the best places to eat and see. There are just so many options and my parents are definitely quasi-professional #foodies, which means they will be very critical of my food choices. At least I know I can show them the first floor of El Mercato Centrale or Trattoria Boboli if all else fails.

It was an interesting experience for us non-tourists to lead other non-tourists around the city of Florence while we very much looked like a tour group. During one of the tours, I remember some other people walk past us and look around your group as if to see what we were gathering for. Walking around in a large group is one of my least favorite things. The number one rule for traveling: Don’t look like a tourist.

The idea of how others perceive your relation to a place being the complete opposite of how you feel connected to the space is intriguing to think about. At this point, I would consider Florence to be one of my temporary homes. But to people passing me and my peers on the street, I look like yet another member of a vacationing tour group that just touched down in Florence that day. To my parents, I should be an expert Florentine tour guide. To my classmates, I seem to know almost just as much about traveling through certain sections of Florence as they do.

I walked outside this morning to grab my daily cup of Joe, a phrase considered extremely alien to Italians, and just walking down the street my endorphin levels began to sky rocket. I cannot believe that I am fortunate to wake up in Florence on a nice Spring day and just exist here. I cannot believe that this is my life. And for that I am grateful. A typical quality cappuccino in Italy should cost you no more than two euro. A walk down the block doesn’t cost you anything. At least not in terms of spending physical cash the seconds in which my feet are mingling with the ankle-twisting cobble stones below. However, as argued by James J. Gibson in “The Theory of Affordances”, I am moving within a space that can be considered an affordance.

The ability to move about different environments are affordances granted to us by our physical mobility and innovation of technology from steps to bridges or automobiles. I was able to travel to Florence via plane by also being able to afford a plane ticket. In more complicated examples, some spaces may afford the presence of some while deterring others such as steep mountains attracting climbers while deterring those afraid of heights. Each space has potential for exploration or limitations for people to occupy due to a multitude of confounding factors. As an able bodied young adult, with a paid for ticket, I was able to climb to the top of the Duomo with the rest of my Italian class, while I am sure there are others who have looked at this building everyday and might never be able to see the top of it.

In terms of photographing iconic tourist sites, Teju Cole speaks on Gibson’s idea of affordances in their New York Times article titled, “Take A Photo Here”. Cole believes that affordances are both Gibon’s idea of “action possibilities” as well as “strong clues” of the purpose of said object. Cole says that due to affordances of the landscapes surrounding popular photography sites it is becoming harder for photographers to come up with more original spots. Upon glancing at my own shots of different monuments, buildings, or churches abroad and scrolling through the photos posted by my peers on Instagram, I realized that all the money I have can only afford for me to continue to be basic.

Some say that you should try to do one thing each day that scares you. Turns out, the only things I’m really afraid of are serial killers, sudden death, aggressive Italian men on the dance floor, needles, and pigeons. So, I figured, I might try pursuing something a bit less life threatening, creepy, or disease-ridden (pigeons are the equivalent of rats of the sky).

Baby steps. That’s how I decided to go about stepping out of my comfort zone. I took baby steps away from my regular places. I found a coffee shop where the cashier only spoke Italian and not a single American-looking study abroad student could be seen. Yes, I did struggle to communicate my order to the cashier as I assumed I was pronouncing some words correctly, but then had to resort to pointing at words on a menu.

If my recent Italian midterm grade was at all telling of my ability to speak Italian…you can assume that my confidence in my Italian language skills is lacking, but I still tried. I try my best to “act European” and “look European”, by not wearing obvious American name brands or clothing with English words on them. I try to speak English as little as possible and blend in with local customers, which results in either me never speaking or revealing my undoubtedly Not-From-Around-Here-Accent. Sometimes, when I feel daring, I actually try my best to speak English with different accents. I pick up on accents from others very easily and so I came very close to speaking in English with an Italian accent on a few occasions without even thinking about it.

It’s a risky task because you don’t want to reveal yourself for being a fraud too easily and so you must own your fake accent. At school, my friends and I always greet each other in our most awful British accents possible. I think I have nailed my impersonation of my Scottish camp counselor. My Australian accent is definitely lacking as it reverts back to something more British sounding and I am not the best with pronouncing their words ending in “o”. My uncle owns and directs an acting school in Dublin and he specializes in voice coaching actors. He even worked with and became close friends with Heath Ledger, The Joker from The Dark Knight. When I visit him for St.Paddy’s day, I hope he can give me a few pointers.

I enjoy watching different types of tutorials on Youtube to teach me how to speak with different convincing accents. I often times watch British crime shows and find myself thinking with a British accent for a few minutes afterwards. Here is a video that can teach you a few tips on how to speak with different accents.

Sometimes, it’s fun to pretend to be something that you are not. I do not consider it to be lying. It’s simply acting. I heard a famous American actress speak in an interview about how she wanted to audition for a role in a British movie, but they only wanted British actors. She flew to London for an interview and spoke in an accent that convinced the casting directors that she was from there, when really she was not. I am just fascinated by this. I know it seems like a funky way to step out of your comfort zone, but I think it’s just fun.

Upon reading Tolu’s blog about street art and George Chauncey’s article, “Privacy Could Only Be Had in Public: Gay Uses of the Streets”, I started to think a bit more about how necessary public displays of self expression are in order to unify those outcasted by a greater society or spread stories which demand attention.

As a self identifying Creative, I have always struggled with deciding how to share different art I created, poems I’ve written, or even if they demanded another set of eyes at all. I used to write angsty poems on small pieces of paper and leave them in desks of my different high school classes. I’d write in margins of books in pencil and then return them for someone else to read. It wasn’t that I desired to see someone else’s response to what I had written, but I just could not seem to handle keeping some feelings, thoughts, and ideas to myself. I recently took up creating some amateur level graphic designs and although I do not post print outs on telephone poles, I have turned one of my designs into a sticker that I proudly stuck to my laptop. A more subtle display. As Chauncey very clearly identified within his piece, sometimes it is easier to live your truth in public than it is to live it by yourself.

Although my own personal experiences are completely different than those of the gay men described by Chauncey, they too seemed to find a greater purpose and sense of wellbeing through sharing their art, stories, and talent. At drag performances and claimed public social spaces, they were able to build a resilient community by coming together and sharing their experiences or interests.  Much like multiple street art works that tattoo the walls of street corners in Florence, these men demanded to be seen, in all their beauty and drag queen glory by others that shared a similar appreciation for glitz and glamour.

Street art is created to leave an impression on people that pass by. It’s the artist communicating how they feel to the public. Unlike the drag queens, capable of seeing their audience’s direct reactions, but much like my desire to hide poems in secret places, these artists do not need to see each viewer’s direct reaction. They just need to have the validation that at least someone out there saw it. They just needed to know that someone at some point had a reaction. That their art had someone thinking, admiring, or detesting their ideas. Confused. Intrigued. Delighted. Angered. At least some sort of emotion meant that the art itself was worthwhile to create.

Both street artists and gay men in urban areas demanded space. Though neither have ever quite been given ideal spaces to exist, create, and mingle they made use of all of the public places they could in order to minimize how much they would be disturbed. Grafitti and defamation of public property is illegal. Being gay is not quite illegal, but gay marriage was up until, way too, recently. Many close-minded and hateful people have contributed towards efforts of LBGTQ+ erasure. Many statement art pieces have been painted over. Despite these obstacles, art and love have always continued to persist. The stories that people have been able to spread through street art and gay community involvement has contributed towards the progression of a greater social good: Hope.

Check out my Portfolio on Behance to catch a glimpse at some of my graphic designs! (shameless self promo) https://www.behance.net/jilliankazcc3f

            I never quite considered myself to be a singer. At least not in the I-can-list-this-as-an-extracurricular-on-my-resume sense. I don’t even know how to read sheet music. Despite my elaborate theatrical shower performances of Beyoncé or Alicia Keys hits, I was always far too nervous to actually pursue singing in a more professional setting. I tried out for a few different productions in both elementary and middle school, however, each time I went up to audition I choked. A lump formed in my throat and I squeaked like a mouse or croaked like a frog. Unfortunately, I came to find out that this dilemma is just as concurrent within the Raspy Voice Community as is the common cold for most.

My failed auditions often landed me background roles in plays including a production of Thoroughly Modern Millie. I was granted the role of Ethel, the first of a group of girls to be kidnapped and sold into Chinese human trafficking. I wish I was making this up… I have no idea how any parent or adult involved in this production approved of this script, but I digress. Despite many embarrassing failed attempts at singing in public, I have always loved to sing alone. I used to sing out of fear when left alone in my dark creaky house at the end of a quiet col de sac. I have always had an aversion for monotonous silence. I sang to fill the void. I still do. I sing without even realizing it. I sing when I make scrambled eggs or blow dry my hair. It comes as a natural reaction to me. It’s how my body fills up the physical and abstract emptiness around me. It’s how I can turn any space into a home.

In the essay “Home: Territory and Identity”, J. Macgregor Wise speaks about different ways in which people claim their own territory. Wise uses the example of the smoke of a cigarette for instance. This smoke surrounds the smoker and therefore might turn off those around them from getting into their personal space or it might attract fellow smokers. Space is perceived as not one stagnant area, but an ever moving vector. If I were to sing loudly in a crowded music hall or within my small room, the space my voice then occupies would vary. It is easy to break through walls with noises and smells. Easier than it is with your physical body.

I used to get into tiffs with some of my roommates as they would get annoyed at my belting in the shower (of every single SZA song off her album “CTRL”) while they were trying to rest or study in their rooms. Honestly, they had a point. However, my neighbors, who I happened to be friends with, texted one of my roommates asking them who was singing so loudly. Because they actually liked the sound of my voice. To them it wasn’t seen as an annoyance. It was seen as entertainment. There were two completely different ways in which my occupation of sound space was received. This is where the idea of attracting specific people into your spaces and therefore deflecting others comes into play.

Certain smells, aesthetics, and sounds can attract others into your space. The smell of a dish your mother cooks at home or a vanilla candle your roommate uses can draw you towards the kitchen or their nightstand. A cute pair of shoes could entice me into a lengthy conversation with a stranger in line at a coffee shop. Adversely, other sensations that consume space in which one considers to be unpleasant might cause them to drift away from said space. I am very much a “vibes” type of person in that sometimes I judge a space or area based off of the energy it puts off.

This is why I am a fan of the idea of feng shui. Feng shui has to do with aligning your home with positive energy to create balance and flow within one’s living space. This is why I hang certain posters or photos in different fashions or positions on my apartment walls. Sometimes, simply moving furniture around to create more space can give you a greater sense of control and can create a better sense of balance within the room. Within my personal spaces, I always enjoy playing some form of RnB music or Beyoncé when getting ready, cleaning, eating, or just relaxing. I need music in my space for major positive “vibes” brownie points. It also helps if you keep your space clean and organized, something I’ll have to work on…

Upon reading Kim Dovey’s article titled “Tall Storeys” this week, I came to realize that there are no towering skyscrapers or extremely tall corporate-like buildings in Florence. What seem to be the tallest focal points of the city include the Duomo and the tops the churches. Madison, Wisconsin does not contain skyscrapers either. However, in my mind, Madison is merely a large town (barely a city), yet Florence is a quaint city (far too urban to be considered town-like). So I started to ask myself why I felt this way and a lot of it has to do with differences between building configurations, architectural feats, and aesthetics.

Madison is a college town that is constantly updating, rebuilding, and reconstructing pieces of its landscape in order to avoid becoming obsolete. To keep up with the times. Florence is an ancient Renaissance city that is constantly under construction for the purpose of restoration. Madison is focusing on moving into the future, while Florence is focusing on preserving the past. I don’t quite have an opinion on which ideology is best, but I find it interesting to think about.

When touring college campuses, my dad told me that many universities continue to remain under construction not only to update or repair old buildings or spaces, but to appeal to newcomers. If people are constantly thinking that the university is improving itself, they will want to stick around to see what comes of it. In reality, many elaborate projects take far longer than it takes to earn one undergraduate degree. But that doesn’t change the effect the presence of potential has upon the affect, or mood, of onlookers.

Now, when you look at the construction surrounding the Duomo, you might be upset that it is obstructing the view of your soon-to-be-posted-on-Instagram photos, but if you are going to be living in Florence for awhile, this frustration definitely masks a bit of enthusiasm and wonderment within you as to what might be to come. Personally, I believe the current construction going on near the Duomo is simply a ruse. I don’t believe there is anything else the astonishing Cathedral needs, unless it is somehow crumbling from its seemingly strong foundation and they are simply placing some pieces back together. To learn more about the history of the Duomo’s construction, I read a National Geographic article that goes a bit more into depth about its designs which were groundbreaking at the time.

Aside from Florence or Madison specifically, every city has their own unique markers that affect how people feel about such places. The condensed housing of tiny apartments, open parks, towering buildings, small shops, monuments, and maybe even smaller details such as the asphalt used to pave sidewalks. Dovey spoke about how “places embody power” in relation to the location of a corporate tower. If you think about businesses strategically placing themselves throughout urban spaces you might start to see an ebb and flow.

Smaller “local” bars and caffés stray away from tourist spots and usually exist within more residential areas. Gelateria’s within a piazza or square usually sell subpar gelato at higher prices than more authentic places hidden within narrow city streets. The location of specific businesses or buildings may seem to be natural or unintentional, but there are no coincidences in urban planning as cities feed off of the desires, needs, and emotions of their people.

If I learned anything from having an older brother with a degree in Real Estate it’s that the most important thing to remember are the three L’s: location, location, and location.

I have always possessed a strong sense of awareness. Awareness of my own presence. Where I am. Where I want to be. And why I’m there. I’ve thought a lot about those notions before. As someone who enjoys traveling, I am grateful for the places I have been capable of exploring and taking derivés in. I do not feel as if I have one specific home as I have the ability to make just about any place my home as long as I respect natives of said space and the nature around me. In Florence, this means attempting to assimilate to some of the cultural manners and lifestyle behaviors of Florentines. This means I am attempting to sort my garbage into more than just recycling and other. I am attempting to speak in Italian as much as possible and learn as much about their culture as possible in order to properly appreciate it.

I am someone who values experiences more than I value material items. However, unfortunately, sometimes plane tickets are more expensive than jewelry or other gifts. But I do not think the price of something determines its value. A 15 euro concert ticket, 2 euro cappuccino at a café with a view, or a long walk down the Arno to me are both rich in experience and simultaneously priceless.

Last weekend, my roommate and I cashed in our 15 euro ticket to an DJ’s concert in Paris and it was a night I will never forget. We danced the night away and I have never felt so free and happy. My legs definitely started to feel numb approximately one and a half hours in, but we decided to stay for four hours. We even befriended some other American students and danced with them. On a dance floor, the idea of creating or finding space to consume is quite interesting. Sometimes my friend and I would get pushed away from each other as people would walk between us. She said, “You just have to make your own space,” and so I did. After a few quick Snapchats and photos, I turned my phone off and let myself jam out to the music.

The idea of creating your own room or space out of the places in which you already exist reminds me of an article I read on Thrive Global by Alex Haslam. Haslam wrote, “Creating a sense of emotional safety starts with the elimination of common stresses. Your smartphone, laptop, tablet, or television might be a conduit for some of the anxieties in your life, whether through a work email or a news program.” Sometimes you have to turn off your notifications and just absorb the environment around you. Whether in a sweaty Parisian club at a secretive location, at a Florentine caffé, or just walking to class, it is important to obtain a sense of awareness in the spaces you are existing in and learn to coexist and appreciate everything your every changing surroundings provide you. Now that is priceless.

Panic. Just some slight panic. Not too much, but enough to jolt me awake from my groggy jet lagged- state. It started to stir inside of me the second I got through Customs. I noticed the large group of college students in my program gathered together in a miniature mob near the exit of the airport. I did not recognize a single face. I almost forgot how that felt. It was as if I was transported back to freshman year all over again. Doe-eyed, excited yet apprehensive, and, honestly, a bit clueless.  Except, this time I actually knew what I was majoring in.

I had no idea what I was in for. I still don’t, but I’m determined to explore as many parts of Italy and Europe as my time and budget warrants. I know there are so many great places to dance, drink, eat, and spend time with friends in this city, but I have not quite figured out what my usual spots are just yet. I have sipped some cappuccinos, tasted the freshness of ripe tomatoes, and taken long romantic walks along the river… by myself. I’d like to venture out into the country side, interact with more locals, and see theatrical performances, concerts, and other shows. This city appears to be full of potential and so am I.

Google Maps can tell me my current location objectively, but it can’t tell me how it feels to be here. So far, it feels pretty dang great. I’ve seen pictures and videos of this city before, but I wanted to learn more about it from my own experience, which I why I purposely did not do much extensive research before landing. Even the steep hills of residential streets have beckoned me to explore a bit farther than my own neighborhood at times. Well, actually, I’ve gotten lost walking home from the CET center a few more times than I’d like to admit…but I made my own walking tour of each wrong turn!

I am very conscious of the space in which I “take up”, however, I am not keen on considering myself as taking or wasting spaces. I like to believe that I borrow or share them. I share them with nature, with strangers passing by, or with friends. I do not own Florence. Florence is simply allowing me to borrow her spaces. Spaces filled with better pizza, pasta, gelato, and coffee than I’ve ever imagined. Whenever I travel, I like to consider a phrase I read once nailed to a bridge by a beach: Take nothing but photos, leave nothing but footprints. The amount of photos I am going to take throughout this trip will undoubtedly seem obnoxious to my friends freezing back home in Madison, but at least I’ll finally figure out what my best angles are.

 Sweat. Just some slight sweat and heavy breathing were expended on one of my excursions so far. My roommate and I decided to climb up the hills, far past Piazzale Michelangelo, to get an even better aerial view of the city. I’m not sure I will reveal our secret spot as it has not been taken over by tourists just yet. From there, we watched blue, pink, orange, and purple hues paint the sky over the terra cotta rooftops of Florence as the sun set. I knew that was just the beginning of the best semester of my life. I have never felt more relaxed. All we took were selfies. All we left were muddy footprints.

https://www.telegraph.co.uk/travel/destinations/europe/italy/tuscany/florence/articles/florence-winter-city-break/