One Wilde Woman's adventures

My dream of living a month in Florence conjured scenes from “Under the Tuscan Sun”. Apart from my first day a Firenze, I was saturated in a month of perpetual rain. I was drowning in the language, the food, the wine, the smells, the noise, the sights, the culture; and the persistent precipitation. I felt ecstatic.
It was a Wednesday. Florence streets were rapidly filling with tourists brushing shoulder to shoulder with locals and all carrying different, brightly colored umbrellas. Rain relentlessly splashed the ancient, paved streets and bounced over my ankles. Before my eyes, colorful semi-circular shapes swooped left and then right, up and then down, as people nudged past each other on the narrow sidewalks. I momentarily closed my eyes and became a stationary part of a carefully orchestrated dance of umbrellas. Operatic arias reverberated from rain splashing off each umbrella, off each building and off each cobblestone while loud American tourist accents competed with rapid, raucous Italiano. The smell of richly roasted coffee beans, pizza and pasta dishes laced with basil, oregano and other fragrant herbs engulfed my senses. Looking skyward, I opened my mouth and tasted the fresh splatters of rain.
This impromptu and spectacular performance under the Tuscan skies transformed my dream of a month in the Tuscan sun to a month in the Tuscan rain.
Reign on, rain.