I find myself once again taken away from any context I understand. This time I've journeyed to the Mecca of Renaissance art: Florence ("Firenze" in Italian). I've been here for less than a day, and already I've admired Michelangelo's David, read the inscription on Dante's tomb, and eaten bona fide Italian gelato. I've seen so many early Renaissance paintings my eyes hurt.
As most of the few hours I've spent here have been nighttime hours, however, I've spent the most time in the hostel. The hostel is clearly a converted apartment near the center of downtown, and the conversion hasn't been all that extensive. It appears that most of the converting effort went into taking out the dining tables, sofas, and pianos that might have filled the four rooms before and replacing them with many single beds. The bathroom, shared by eight people, is divided into two adjacent rooms: one with a shower, toilet, and lavabo, and the other with bathtub, sink, mirror, and second lavabo. In spite of its quirks, the place is clean and there are kitchen and Internet facilities, so as a place to base my exploration of Florence out of I'm satisfied with it. It also has the obligatory Australian traveler, who in this case seems never to leave the hostel and who is friendly as can be.
Staying at such an establishment makes me feel like I'm truly living the life of the young adult wanderer. Part of the fun of traveling is meeting unexpected challenges. And there is a kind of harmony or rightness in staying in the company of literal travelers, all trying to understand what human life means by seeing much of it geographically and culturally. I am, after all, exploring a city positively brimming with art trying to encompass and portray something essential about the human journey. Human life is complicated, and there is MUCH to see and many challenges, but there is some comfort in knowing being alive is challenging to everyone.
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