Botticelli Blue Skies: An American in Florence

3. Gli Studenti

Today, Nicoletta, the Italian teacher who will be teaching with Joe, is holding a reception for the “Semester in Florence” students at her home, a mixer where they will get to know one another better and choose roommates for the stay in Italy. Nicoletta and Joe have interviewed and accepted thirty-eight students for the trip; each one has been told of the rigors of travel and warned of the culture shock they will face. A special admonition is offered about the quantity of wine that is available in Italy—and how everyone is counting on their good sense in dealing with it. The course of study is settled: Joe will teach humanities and history, Nicoletta will teach Italian language. That Nicoletta resembles Sophia Loren is of no small interest to me, though Joe has protested that he hadn’t noticed. Nicoletta has an easy laugh, a happy nature; I can tell at once that she is counting the moments till she is in Italy. She was born in Rome and is anxious to demonstrate its beauties and glories to the students. I admire her energy, her large dark eyes, her sensual Italian mouth. (Well, it is a good thing I have decided to go along, isn’t it?) Her husband, an American, is a handsome, cheery fellow and is busy setting out refreshments for the students when we arrive. He won’t be with us on the trip—he has his business to attend to at home. 6 3 Gli Studenti The students arrive one by one. Joe has prepared me for some of them: Marta, the cabaret singer who wears great dangling music-note earrings; Robin, the boy with the silver stud in the middle of his tongue; Rosanna, the tall blonde young woman who is a hairdresser and has offered to bring her scissors to Italy in order to serve as official haircutter for the students. There will be thirty-two young women going , and only six men. (Or are they girls and boys? For the most part, they are in their early twenties—except for Mrs. Pedrini, the seventytwo -year-old student.) Even as I am wondering which of these young women will want to room with a seventy-two-year-old, the woman in question enters Nicoletta ’s front door. With short dark hair and elegantly applied makeup, Mrs. Pedrini sails in, wearing a glittery skirt and backless lucite high heels. A silver beret perches on her head. She is carrying a basket full of colored wool pompoms and sets out at once distributing them to all of us—students and teachers alike. She says we must attach them to our suitcases—since then they will be easier to identify at the airport. She is all bounce, energy, and good will. Many of the students are from Hispanic backgrounds. They think their knowledge of Spanish will make it simple to use the Italian language . Also, since Italy is the home of the Pope, their families are thrilled for them to have this opportunity. Most students will be getting financial aid and loans from the college to make this trip. Nicoletta makes her prepared announcements—that everyone should pack warm pajamas since the heat is not turned on in Italy— legally—till November l. That we should all bring towels, since they are not provided in the apartments. That we must remember we will have no TVs, no VCRs, no microwaves, and no luxuries. That living in Italy is expensive. That we will all have to learn to get around the city by bus, learn to use the currency, to buy food, and to live among Italians . That the buildings are very old, that those in centro generally have no elevators. Some of the apartments may be four or five flights up. “It may be tough at first,” Nicoletta tells us all. “But be flexible and creative . And, remember, this is only for three months, it isn’t your Life.” I suffer a little pang of terror at that moment. It seems to me it will Botticelli Blue Skies 7 be my life. What if we get a tenth-floor walkup, without a shower, with beds made of concrete? My knees feel weak—what if we end up living in a dungeon? But Mrs. Pedrini is passing around a tray of pizza slices and presses us each to take a piece. “Molto delizioso!” she...