And today is....?

It's god-knows-what time (I'm running on 8am Sunday, the clock says 11pm Saturday) and I've just returned from what I can confidently call a terrific vacation. Not without its frustrations and disappointments I suppose, but whatever, they didn't take away from the good stuff.

I've never consumed so much of so many varieties of ham, cheese and wine in the span of one week before.
The best 6 euro I ever spent was to climb to the top of the Duomo in Florence.
Lanes painted on the roadways are apparently just a suggestion.
One should not, under any circumstances, eat an olive freshly picked from a tree, even if it looks and feels ripe.
The sound of bells ringing across a wooded vale is a perfect complement to morning tea.
Mopeds operate under no rule of law.
There's just something about cypress trees that makes scenery sublime.
Those Italians are really onto something with the whole gelato concept.

I think I may take an Italian class so I can properly woo Raoul Bova on the balcony of the villa I'm buying outside of Volpaia.

Under the Tuscan Sun

I have plenty of things I intended to bring up in this space today, such as California's new Gubernator (or Governator), the latest woeful result of what I like to call American Demockery. Or more pleasantly, the notable change in seasons, felt even here in the temperate Bay Area.

But instead, I will simply say "Arrivederci!" since, if I haven't mentioned it in the last 10 minutes, I'm leaving for Italy. Friday. The day after tomorrow. And despite the enormous number of things I have to do this evening and tomorrow prior to departure, the fact that I'll be in Tuscany for a week pretty much makes all other concerns evaporate. Yay!

Ciao!

Doppelgänger

It's already been a couple weeks, but I'm still a wee unsettled. 9:30am Saturday morning I receive a call. "Zach?" says the voice on the other end. "It's Caroline!" she responds to my "Yes?" Ok, one of my best friends is Caroline, but something is amiss which prevents either of us from diving headlong into full conversation. We feel it out, and come to the conclusion neither of us is who we think the other is. Turns out she's searching for a different Zach Bruns in San Francisco, her best friend from high school. She implores me not to hang up, however, and so, thoroughly discombobulated by now I go on to hear about her beloved Zach (whose description has marked similarities to mine). But it's clear she is in need of someone - anyone - to talk to, and I can't decide if she's seriously depressed or slightly drunk, or both.

A few days later I actually hear from my Caroline, now in Boston. She's been thrown for a loop because she just saw me while waiting for the T. And by me, she explains, there was no doubt in her mind that it was me however unlikely that I'd be in Boston: same clothes, same face, same eyes and glasses, same body, same backpack, same expression of alarm as she leapt up in surprise and joy. Not just a good look-alike, but my best friend was so convinced that it took a few moments to get past the hurt when he walked on without further acknowledgement.

All creepy coincidence aside, there's someone like me with my name, and someone else with my body - both walking around out there somewhere. I feel like I need to ascribe some sort of great significance to these events. Like someone or something is trying to tell me something important. I just haven't figured out what it is yet.