Studying now at I Tatti, which still maintains much of Berenson's original vision of gentility, otium, and scholarship. Everyday the fellows gather for a seated lunch, and readers, like me, fend for themselves. I have been using the Berenson Archive to research Cecil Pinsent's relationship with the Bernard and Mary Berenson, and since the reference librarian, who keeps an eye on everyone using archival materials and books from the special collection, eats with the fellows, I have to give up my documents for an hour and a half each afternoon. I just finished my sandwhich and drank a few Lilliputian cups of espresso. I need to get back on the horse after last night, when some friends and I went to the Pitti for the opening of the vinticulture exhibition. They served copious amounts of wine at the opening, some of them very good, especially after the first two glasses, and afterwards a few friends came over for dinner: fried green tomatoes, salad, eggplant, and pork loin. We polished off a few more bottles of cold white wine, which I never appreciated until I found myself senza AC. Try drinking red wine or eating heavy food in Tuscany during the month of July; you will catch a raging case of the meat sweats, often reaching epic proportions. The night ended with music and dancing in the kitchen, having opened every window and door in the apartment, praying for a cool breeze.
I finally fixed my mosquito net, but the little bastards are still sneaking in somehow. Very upsetting.
Tomorrow, I leave to house-sit in Lecchi in Chianti until September. I have been in squirrel mode since Alan left, hording books, articles, and notes, so that I can write the majority of my Master's thesis while I am out in the country. I am excited about my time in Chianti: me, a five liter damigiana, a epileptic dog named Toby, a garden that needs Burwellesque watering ever other day, and the ghost of Cecil Pinsent.
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