So Is This an I Feel Guilty Cake or a Let's Have a Party Cake?

There is a certain sense of joy that accompanies the more minor sort of poor life decision. I'm talking about the type that leads you to a bar on a tuesday night when you know that you have to look at masterpieces of Renaissance art the next morning. In case you haven't realized yet I'm speaking from personal experience. On tuesday night I went with some people in my program to see a Beatles cover band. It's hard not to be a Beatles fan and there is something incredibly comforting about hearing their songs. Anyway the band was pretty good. Were they the Beatles? Not by a long shot but they were clearly having fun and were good musicians. Being in a somewhat anti-social mood I decided I would rather watch the band than sit and talk. So drink in hand that's exactly what I did. I really enjoyed watching the band interact. They clearly enjoyed being onstage together. However the real highlight of my night came when the lead singer for the band dedicated one of the songs to me. He said something in Italian. Since I can understand 1 out of every 4 to 10 words spoken in Italian I had no clue what he said. Since I looked rather vacuous for someone who'd just had a song dedicated to her, he switched to English. He said, "You" and pointed straight at me, "This next one's for you." That's the story of how I got the song Help! dedicated to me.

Only in Italy would you be able to follow up a night listening to a Beatles cover band with a 9am trip to see David. Now I HATE mornings, I'm honestly just not a morning person. Now I realize I really shouldn't be complaining. My life is so awful I have to wake up early and see one of the greatest sculptures in the Western world. There is a reason that Michelangelo's David is pretty much the greatest sculpture ever. No matter the time of day or your state of mind upon entering the museum the moment you see it you can't help but be awestruck. I'm not going to say to much more about the statue. Obviously it's HUGE and beautiful. I could wax poetic about its magnificence until DC learns how to plow snow. The last thing I'm going to say about the statue is that if you've never seen it it's worth the plane ticket to Florence.

In previous posts I've mentioned my great love for pastry and the fact that the Carnival season involves the mass consumption of said pastry. A few nights ago over dinner my host brother Cosimo told my roommate and I that the Florentines (and probably the Italians in general) also have a special cake for Lent. Or as he put it, unable to remember what we call the season of Lent, "The season after Carnival when you are supposed to feel sad and think about why you should feel guilty." He also told us there was yet another Carnival cake that we hadn't tried yet. Tonight after a fantastic and very large dinner of artichoke pasta and spinach quiche my host mother brought out a cake. On seeing it my roommate asks, "Is this an I'm sorry cake?" Cosimo responds, "No this is still a happy cake. It's also for Carnival"