Local Living Revisited

Travel fatigue is setting in for me and, I sense, also for readers of this blog. If you’re still reading, thanks for hanging in there. Though tired, I remain content and, having settled into a daily routine, do rather feel as if I’m living like a local. For example, I’ve become attuned to the coming-and-going rhythms of my neighborhood such as:

- parents taking their kids to and from the nearby park in the afternoons (children’s laughter and chatter echo off the stucco walls lining our narrow street)

Halloween Astronaut

- the elegant-shoe shoemaker hunched over his laptop every time I pass his window

- opera singing wafting through my window after dark from the nearby Chiesa di Santa Monaca nighly performance.

- how the woman who runs the stylish clothes shop on the corner changes her window display daily, then smokes at her doorway waiting for business (I’ve not seen anyone go in!)

- and that photo up top is of Basilica di Santo Spirito, as taken from our newly adopted neighborhood rooftop bar, the Loggia.

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In addition, the cashiers at the nearby market recognize me, and I no longer fumble to find the right coins. I’ve learned what side streets to take to avoid crowded main ones, and have mastered the art of zigzagging back and forth across busy ones to navigate around slowpokes and phone zombies.

Yesterday I met my sister in law, Melinda, for a delicious meal of Bistecca alla Fiorentina which did not disappoint. You order by the kilo, and this 1.5 kilo serving was the smallest we could order and share.

A few other observations:

Address numbers are confusing until you’re told that red numbers indicate businesses, whereas black or blue numbers indicate residences. Numbers go in order within their color, but not across colors.

Residents lug their trash and recyclables to these street-side bins, which are often overflowing. I didn’t realize that the bins extend underground until I saw one being emptied.