Divinely Favored

I felt Tuscany today. I mean, really felt it. You know in the movies when you picture those clay Tuscan roof tiles; the tall, skinny trees; the fields of flowers; the smell of rich, ancient dirt? Today was all of those things and more. We had a long winter, a week and a half of those "April showers" and now, it's what Oklahomans would consider shorts-weather. I prophesied that it would be at the very end of the semester that I fell in love with this place. I was right. And I am. 

Wednesday, the 25th, was the 4th of July in Italy, the day Italians celebrate their liberation from Mussolini and his fascist party and the Germans, who were driven north out of Italy. The Italians were out of school for the day (we were not so lucky) and the city was alive! We had our Illicit Trafficking presentations that day and, true to form, I talked for 10 minutes longer than my allotted time. There were 4 group presentations and each group was required to speak for an hour. That was the longest class day of my entire life. I am in no hurry to relive that experience. 

Today, though, is the day we all dread. It's the day for our "Getting to Know Arezzo" class, where we spend about 3 hours doing something around town. We only have 5 of these classes per semester and today was our last. So far we've spent a day studying the famous Joust of Arezzo, we've studied the Madonna del Conforto on the day that her holiday was celebrated in town, participated in the Slow Food Movement (we had 5 courses -- yum!) and then there's today. 

Today, in honor of the Liberation Day festivities, we went to San Polo, a town that was invaded by the Germans in 1944. We began the class by watching a documentary on the massacre at San Polo, where German forces being driven out of the south of Italy by Allied forces came through that little town and killed 48 people, including most of the men, some elderly, and at least one pregnant woman. The documentary was in Italian and the actors were locals so the children on the screen (not knowing the severity of the subject matter) were laughing while German soldiers were chasing them with guns. It was at the end, though, where they showed the footage retrieved from English archives when you saw the decomposed bodies later excavated from the unmarked graves for inspection that it really became sort of eerie. San Polo is as insignificant as Luther. If you're not paying attention, you might drive right by without even noticing. There aren't any stores -- just fields and houses. It was only a 10 minute drive from Arezzo so we all piled into different cars and headed up the side of the Apennines. The little unpaved square remains untouched since the end of that tragedy. There is no huge annoying plaque that people flock to or an admission fee that pays for the upkeep. It's privately owned property and the owners leave it alone. The buildings where the people were temporarily held hostage were not given fresh coats of paint and there were not new doors on the hinges. It was the same old houses, begging to be forgotten. In a small grove under the shade of the trees that had seen it all, there's a little clearing where men were forced to dig the graves where they later would be buried in bulk. The grass isn't mowed, there are no flowerbeds. The place is at peace, as I think we all silently agreed it should be.  We placed our white roses on the brilliantly green grass and left it as we found it.  

My mom, in her all-knowing wisdom, always reminds me that I will one day understand the gravity of death. She says I don't know now because I have too much life ahead of me; but one day, I'll start to realize how quickly life literally flies forward. I've been more than lucky to never feel a shockingly grave threat to my safety. By sheer luck, I was thrown into 1991 in Midwest City. Sheer luck. But today I witnessed the effects of a horrific and sad act of violence. What did I do to deserve my luck? Nothing. I'm blessed, right? But that's the thing about seeing other people's tragedy. It leaves you feeling like you don't deserve your blessed fate. 

Something about being here makes me feel kind of foolish. I can assure you that it doesn't take going to Africa or a 2nd or 3rd world country to be humbled. Life is slow, people love hard. Being here has made me want to cook for, spend time with, and smother the people in my life with love; because isn't that what God has granted me under the alias of "Study Abroad Program?" The opportunity to witness some of the most beautiful wonders that man has ever seen with some beautiful souls. I am not only blessed. I am divinely favored.

I met in the street a very poor young man who was in love. His hat was old, his coat worn, his cloak was out at the elbows, the water passed through his shoes, - and the stars through his soul.
Victor Hugo