I have a German accent

I don’t know why, but several different Italians have told me so, so it must be true.  A couple of months ago, a Venetian barista thought perhaps I was from Bolzano.  And just today the owner of a little osteria here in Florence gave me a knowing smile and nod when I reminded her that I’d been in the other night with the German girls who are regulars.  “I can tell by your accent,” she said.  I asked her if I really sound German, and she and the other guy at the counter agreed that I did — albeit a gentle one.  This must be something deep seated since, now that I think about it, I was mistaken for German once when I was here in 1990, just months after starting to study Italian.  What the heck is going on?  Gotta get some coaching from my Italian friends!  (I’m repenting a little of the pleasure I’ve always taken in “Matona mia cara” and other 16c-century songs that mock German inflection.)

In my long stint of not posting I have

• been to Florence, Ravenna, Pesaro
• rowed with my club to Lazzaretto Nuovo and S. Francesco del Deserto
• heard “Death in Venice” and a concert drawn from the Faenza Codex
• celebrated Redentore

I have a thousand photos; don’t you worry.

The concert season is over, so there are no more rehearsals.  Everyone is gone on vacation, leaving very few other rowers to go rowing with (heck, very few people to do any kind of anything with).  Meanwhile, the library closure season is upon us, so I’m scurrying around the peninsula trying to tie up loose ends (that is, see manuscripts) while I still can.  Just as well, since I need to get into a WRITING routine, asap.

One of the loveliest things about this trip to Florence is the weather.  The days are warm, as you’d expect, but the nights are surprisingly chilly.  Makes for fabulous sleeping.