I have bangs. They make me happy.
Like my new sandals. And the raw milk I got for 1 euro at the market. And this little ally way with its bridge of plants.
This is my happy place. There's fresh milk. Fresh fruit. Fresh vegetables. Fresh cheese. Fresh bread. All made in little paese around Siena.
I've even made some friends.
Marta makes some incredible contucci. She has a farm in Arezzo, and her daughter is expecting a baby. She makes all types of jams. Onion, raspberry, pepper, pear, you name it. She's generous and loves talking to us. She even gave us extra contucci after we bought what we wanted. She smiles and hugs us. I can't wait to go back next week.
This is Gino's cheese shop. He's the cheese man. I want him to teach me all about cheese. He's quirky, and so funny. His shop is only open for the morning though, so up until now I haven't been able to go much. Luckily, I'm going to be working at night from now on. Hello, cheese.
I love this sign he put up: it roughly translates into: "the love we dedicate to this plant is the same that we give to our clients". Maybe I could fit one of those rolls of cheese into my suitcase...
In a city of stone, it's a glorious thing to find a secluded, reading friendly patch of grass. Especially when the view is this good. There's nothing I love better than flopping down on my stomach and reveling in a world of words.
What other bizarre things have I eaten? Well, let me tell you about this one time at work. It had been a long day, and I am famished. What delightfully delicious thing am I going get to try today, I wonder? I excitedly sit down to a giant plate of pasta, full of juicy red tomatoes, onions and:
Herring eggs. They stuck to my tongue and made me gag. And they tasted like old fish. Raw sausage was better, in every single way: words I never thought I'd utter. Needless to say, I made Federicho's day happy when he received another portion of pasta.
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