Firenze

Jeep Girl here…

It was hard to leave Rome, feeling as if I had only scratched the surface of the city that had so quickly won my heart. I desperately wanted to see Michelangelo’s handiwork in the Sistine Chapel, but touring hours were over by the time we arrived. I didn’t waste too much time being sad about it though, because something tells me I will be back to explore again. In fact just to make sure, I visited the Trevi fountain before leaving the city. 

You never see it coming. You’re walking along a narrow passage-way trying to not get run over by tiny cars that seem like they are driving on a sidewalk rather than a street, then suddenly there it is! Its beautiful alabaster sculptures rising out of the blacks and browns and grays of the surrounding buildings like a Phoenix rising from the ashes. Tucked away deep in the heart of the city, its clear turquoise waters like an oasis in a vast desert of cobblestone. When your eyes first take in the fullness of the scene, your body involuntarily exhales with a kind of deep abiding relief. The fountain absolutely embodies the word “refreshing.” Hundreds of people push and shove their way to the base of the figures where it is said, “If you toss one coin into the fountain, you will return to Rome again. Two coins and you will find love. Three coins ensure you and your love will return to Rome together.” I’m not superstitious at all, but I definitely tossed three coins in that fountain! I’m kind of an all or nothing kind of girl.

The ship set sail and we were off to what the rest of the world knows as Florence, but the Italians call Firenze. The tour guide told us stories of lost and wandering passengers trying to find their way to a city no one had ever heard of. Make sure to ask for “Firenze” she said, “or you never find your way.”We took a long bus drive from the port through the heart of Tuscany. Beautiful green rolling hills lined with straight rows of grape vines, wide fields of sunflowers and the iconic tall and skinny cypress trees. My favorites though were the ones they call “umbrella” trees. They were used to line highways to shade armies while they marched. I found them extremely fascinating and thought “I’d like to own some of those trees someday. To sit under the shade of them in the late afternoon.”

Florence was much smaller than Rome but still enchanting. Apparently, Italy is home to about 60% of the world’s art and 10% of that is in Florence alone. There’s a museum on every corner and it seems every building is designed to appeal to our senses. Even guard towers, lighthouses, public restrooms and other utilitarian structures have artistic style. Italians are detail oriented and they care about quality and excellence. Florence and Italy, in general, is known for its extremely soft leather, so we were bombarded with leather goods of all kinds. If I had the money, everyone I know would have gotten a leather bag! They were so luxurious and hundreds less than we pay for them in the US. 

Penny and I took a boat ride down the river to get a different perspective of the city. The boat held about 20 passengers at full capacity and was driven by an elderly, but very agile Italian man. He held a wooden pole approximately 12 feet long. I laughed when I realized this is what he would use to propel us down the river! It was astounded at his physical ability as it was a VERY hot and humid day. He looked like he must have been doing it all his life, and did it with a smile on his face as the sweat dripped down from his arms like the rain we all hoped would come to cool us off. Under the bridges, we went and around and back up the river we came. It was a nice thing to say we did, but honestly it was so hot it was a bit miserable. There was absolutely no breeze to speak of and I think all of us were contemplating jumping overboard. 

Shortly after, while trying to decide which direction to go next, a very animated Italian man driving what can only be described as a bright orange clown car stopped in front of us and started waving his hands, as the Italians do. He insisted that he should take us on a ride in his cart and show us the sites.  It is my personality to kind of ignore people trying to sell me something because I am terrible at saying “no.” The more I engage them in conversation the more I feel obligated to say “yes,” so I typically act like I don’t hear them. I realize this is rude. I should probably work on learning to say “no,” so that I can still be kind. Thankfully Penny is not afraid to say, “no.” So she let the man give his speech and then turned to me and said, “It’s up to you.” Because of the aforementioned problem, I said, “Yes!” Not to mention I was still on the “When in Rome” high, and I wasn’t sure if the powers of this mantra extended to this new city. 

As we climbed into the very odd little cart, so did a handsome German couple and their two adorable blonde haired, blue eyed children, accompanied by “Emma.” Emma with her matching blonde locks and big brown eyes became a very dear traveling companion to me over the next hour. In fact, she became so comfortable with me that she proceeded to drool quite profusely over my knees. It ran down to my ankles and into my shoes. Emma was a golden retriever, who had no understanding of personal space. I didn’t say anything to the Germans because honestly there was nowhere for her to go. It is incredible to me that we all fit in that little cart. I decided to say “When in Rome” laugh and enjoy the ride.

Speeding down alleyways, between buses and droves of tourists we went.  Up up and up to the very top of a mountain, where Alphonso our driver, pulled over. We all got out and he led us inside to a beautiful courtyard. On one side of the courtyard was a majestic pink, white and green marble cathedral. On the other was the entire city below. It was breathtaking and peaceful. It was Sunday, and there were monks walking around in their white robes. We walked in the Cathedral to see the faded murals of Mary and Jesus and on the floor a precise black and white pattern with what seemed to be names and dates written everywhere. I asked Alphonso about them, and he told me they were graves. The entire church is built on tombs. Apparently, this is common here, but I can’t imagine walking into a church in America and sitting on someone’s grave while I heard about Jesus. Again, I thought of the Colosseum and how the Italians were building their life around death. They don’t try to cover it up or hide from it. They truly celebrate it. Insert more deep philosophical thoughts here. 

It was finally time for pizza! We had made reservations at a very nice place with a beautiful terrace overlooking a piazza earlier in the day, but when we went to get our table they were having some kind of difficulty and pushed off to the side to wait. We had to catch a bus back to the ship so we couldn’t afford to wait. They served gelato there and we decided to have a scoop and eat it while on our way up the street in search of another place to eat. Dessert first because “When in Rome!” 

The gelato was incredible but paled in comparison to the pizza we discovered at this little place in a back alley that was over 140 years old. It was dark even in the middle of the day, but still inviting. It was filled with heavy wooden tables big enough for entire families, grandparents included to all fit around. Penny and I found a small one in the back corner near a wood burning stove. Thankfully it was not burning wood at the moment, because as I mentioned it was a very hot day. We ordered our new favorite, melon and prosciutto, and then the pizzas. They all came out on rich wooden boards. It was rustic and elegant all at the same time. I have had some very excellent pizza in my life and honestly, I’ve heard many stories of people being disappointed in the pizza in Italy, so my expectation was low for this being life changing. I was wrong. It was transcendent! No other pizza will ever compare. People have asked me what was so great about it. Everything really. The crust was a perfect thickness and consistency. It wasn’t thin, but it wasn’t thick. It was just right. It wasn’t crispy, and it wasn’t chewy. It was just right. The sauce wasn’t chunky. It wasn’t thin. It was just right. The cheese wasn’t greasy or scarce. It was….you guessed it…just right.  

Back to the boat, we went and as we rode along I couldn’t help but think about Spain. God had called me to go there and had made a way for that to happen, but it seems like the long way around to me. Don’t get me wrong, seeing all of this part of the world is absolutely amazing! It’s more than I could have imagined and I feel incredibly grateful that this was gifted to me by the ever wonderful, Penny; but more than anything I want to get to Barcelona! I haven’t heard much from the Pastor’s there yet, so I’m not sure if I’m participating in this week’s services or not and there are a lot of unknowns. I just want to get there and find out why God has brought me here. 

Then I realized that God also brought me here. Right here. Where I am now. I realized that there is a purpose in the long way round, and that life is not always about the future that I so often get caught up in. It is about the here and now. My client and one of my closest friends Ryan, is an expert at living in the moment. If he were here right now, he’d be soaking up every moment without a single thought of Barcelona. He wouldn’t be anxious or stressed. He has confidence that tomorrow will work out just fine. I admire that, because it is much more motivated by faith than fear. 

If I’m being honest I have some fears about getting to Spain. I’m not of afraid of what will happen, I’m afraid of what won’t. Afraid I won’t be changed, I won’t feel any significance in it. Afraid I won’t help them. I’m afraid it will feel less than what I’ve made it to be in my head. After 5 years of dreaming about it, it’s become so big and important in my mind. I fear that I’m thinking about it too much and I’m all in my head. That it won’t be special or life changing or enlightening or anything at all. That the Pastors will wonder why I even came and that I won’t add anything to what they’re doing. That there won’t be anything I can point to and say, “THAT is why God brought me here.”I heard Holy Spirit begin to speak. “You cannot make this event life changing. You don’t have the power to do that. Only I do. Stop asking, what you should be doing and instead ask what I am going to do. This trip isn’t about you. It’s about what I want to do through you. Don’t seek change. Don’t seek enlightenment. Don’t seek people’s approval. Don’t seek a story. Seek ME and you will find what you are looking for.”

With a tear or two streaming down my face, I refocused and recommitted myself to the Father and His purpose for me. I realized that He could use me even before I get to Barcelona, and I wanted to be open to that. “I don’t want to miss a thing that you want to do on this trip, God. So, When in Rome goes for spiritual things too! I’m saying Yes to whatever you have in mind, and Yes to not knowing what is ahead. Yes to right now”

So I’m curious, what do you need to say “When In Rome” to?

XOXO

Jeep Girl