Firenze.

Now I know why the Senese don't like Firenze:

The Duomo.

Ponte Vecchio.

Ponte Vecchio- this used to be a fish market and is the only bridge that Hitler didn't destroy in WWII because he thought it was so beautiful. It was also where the Medici family had an escape route.

Piazza della Republica. They say all roads lead here, because it was at one point the governing point of Tuscany.

Il Davide! I snuck this picture even though the worker at L'Academia kept yelling, NO FOTO! NIENTE FOTO! I did good for not looking through my camera, if I do say so myself.

Interesting fact: Michelangelo, it is said, carved Il Davide disproportionately because it's supposed to be viewed from the lower left-hand corner.

Arno River.

Gli Uffizi.

Another illegally taken photo of the planning of Gli Uffizi.

I may have taken a lot of illegal photos.

A portion of Gli Uffizi, outside. Just to prove I was there.

Look closely at the statues head. Creepy, eh?

Piazza della Signorina. And a teeny tiny ape. Che carino.

There are so many charming aspects of Firenze, especially when you aren't surrounded by a trillion tourists. Layne and I were crazy enough to leave on a 6:40 am bus and beat the crowds. It was worth it, despite the fact that we were then on our feet the entire day. Seriously, we didn't get to her friends apartment until almost 11:00 pm. A hard floor never felt so good to sleep on.

I bought a flowery skirt.

I saw a lot of incredible art.

I ate a delicious sandwich.

I found Coca-Cola Light for only 70 centessimi.

I got a leather journal.

And a few other leather things.

Like a red messenger bag.

And some leather sandals.

You're only in the leather capital of the world once, right?

I met Mo, a friend of Layne who owns a leather shop and who gave me a sweet deal.

Mo bought us gelato.

And then we watched a street performer.

I had a random conversation with (and in!) Italiano on the stairs of the duomo.

Then again the next day.

I think I'm actually learning Italian, albeit just a teeny bit.

I love Firenze.

You know you're in Italy when:

You get spied on while showering. Yeah, this takes some explaining. So, Layne and I arrive at her friend's apartment on Saturday night. We'd been up for over 17 hours. Walking. All day. All I wanted was a peaceful shower.

I turn on the water. Of course it's hardly more than a trickle. That's good though, since there's only a curtain on one side. As I wash away the grime of Firenze, I look up and gasp. Is that? Yes, it most certainly is. A man. Leaning out of his balcony. Watching me. Shower. There's a window there? What!? What do I do?

I didn't linger in the shower, that's for sure.

There it is. One of the top left apartments. I was the topic of most jokes for the next day. In Italian. Mortifying, to say the least. And quite amusing, in retrospect.

This is Kathryn. She's fantastic, and this was her last day. She came to visit me and watch me eat a snail.

It truly was bizzare. And absolutely delicious. Who knew I'd become such a diverse eater while in Italy?

Another first:

I ate raw sausage.

Yeah. Layne got a "fresh sausage" sandwich. Fresh is an understatement. I'm not converted.

First times.

Italy has had a lot of first times in it for me. Here's a peak:

I ate mussels.

I ate a snail.

I ate an octopus. And a squid.

I ate a shrimp.

I ate rabbit.

I ate fresh tuna.

I ate buffalo yogurt.

I ate sardines.

Note: All of these animals were alive when I first saw them, or freshly killed and still fully intact.

I had a 10 minute conversation with the natural food store owner, in Italian. Folks, that's a big deal. Italians sempre switch to English when I start talking.

Oh, and I cut off my hair. Well, some of it.

Pictures to come.

Ode to Arezzo and Montepulciano.

Oh Montepulciano, why did you have to steal my heart? My relationship with Siena was finally improving. I was getting to know its quirks and, yes, even falling in love with them.

Then, I met you.

You’re really everything I look for in a city. You’re the epitome of carina. Your view of the Tuscan country is impeccable. Around every bend there’s another alley way that looks out over seemingly eternal fields and vivacious vineyards. You’re quiet and chock-full of colorful containers of flowers.

And you, Arezzo. Why art thou so wonderful? You even have a palio, like my dear Siena. Except yours is with jousting. How did you know I’ve always been in love with jousting? Oh, and how I adore your quant little shops and bubbling fountains, so tantalizing in the summer heat.

You make me go weak at the knees.

Alas, I need to reconcile with my choices in life, and since I have to live with Siena, I’d really appreciate if you’d both give me my heart back.

"All the worlds a stage..."

"...and all the men and women merely players..."

Anxiously awaiting the palio, this proper lady was able to enjoy the morning preparations.

Here, ladies and gentlemen, is why I go to bed smelling Italian food. Every single night. Apparently midnight is not too late for dinner. I love that the chef looks like the stereotypical statue on his right.

Things tend to just blend together here.

No big deal, just some frescoes from hundreds of years ago. When I take the time to look, I realize how incredible this little city is.

This is what you get when you go to the Duomo, after the tourists leave. So intriguing.

"...they have their exits and entrances; and one man in his time plays many parts."

-William Shakespeare

One a Day.

An apple a day keeps the doctor away. Since that never worked for me growing up, I decided to follow some other advice:

Do one thing, every day that makes you happy. Go discover a fountain that talks (did that). Buy Mozzarella di Buffala (my excuse: you can’t find it in America). Paint your nails (sometimes, it really is fun to be girly). Buy a new shirt (or save your money for traveling). Read a book in a language you understand completely, just because you can (A Tale of Two Cities: highly recommended). Spend the day with someone you’ve never met before, and will probably never meet again (this is another post entirely). Take pictures of people who make you laugh. Or smile. Or are just plain outrageous (I can be kind of a creeper with my camera- anything for a good photo).

It's Fonzie! The right picture is the real Fonzie- we just spied his young admirer while reading in Piazza del Campo:

Or, take the time to type out an obnoxiously long quote and send it in a text to someone: Layne and I were traveling on trains to opposite destinations and still we could communicate or random little thoughts. Thank you, technology.

“Mr. Cruncher always spoke of the year of our lord as Anna Dominoes: apparently under the impression that the Christian era dated from the invention of a popular game by a lady who bestowed her name upon it.” -Dickens

Her response was definitely more thought provoking:

“It is vain to say human beings ought to be satisfied with tranquility: they must have action; and they will make it if they cannot find it.” -Jane Austin

I found this quote incredibly insightful. Jane Austin knew what she was writing when she so acutely scrutinized human behavior. I long for peace and tranquility in my life, for everything to be easy, yet I intentionally put things in the way to prevent this state from being a norm. Of course, it’s a necessity that one has periods of tranquility in their life, but, to pull out another cliché phrase, too much of a good thing can be a bad thing.

Tension. Anxiety. Discomfort. Apprehension. These adjectives pull us apart, rearranging us, forcing us out of our mold and into something more beautiful, into a shape that in the end, will reflect what we’ve become. We’re like mozzarella. With enough twisting, tearing and dips into boiling water, we’ll turn into something desirable. Sorry, it really is just that good.

This is one of my recent splurges. All .99 centesimi of it. It's perfect for my slightly-longer-than-weekly grocery trips. Oh, how I miss the ease of having a car.

A close up, for your viewing pleasure. Creepy, certainly, but truly the epitome of my Italian eating. I live off of basil, tomatoes, fresh pasta and mozzarella. Veramente.

Moral of the story: lay and bed and read in the morning. Purposefully get lost and see what you find. Whatever makes you're day exceptional.

Il Quattro di Luglio.

There's no better way to appreciate what you have than by leaving everything you take for granted behind.

What do I miss about home? Well, let me tell you:

I miss sinks that drain.

And floors that don't turn my feet black.

People who hate sponges as much as me. Seriously people, it's like a metropolitan for bacteria!

I miss Almond Milk. Arbitrary, perhaps, but my digestive system is not thanking me for my increased dairy consumption.

Green grass. Green leaves.

I miss laws against smoking inside. Hello, lung cancer.

I even painted my nails red to show my American pride.

I think I succeeded in finding the ugliest sheets at the market, no?

Layne and I got our craftiness on. Leftover twine + clothespins + pictures = pure joy.

We bought every packet of ground beef in the store to make these babies. And every packet of buns.

To celebrate being American, we had a good old fashioned American BBQ.

Apparently Liz and I were the only ones who got the memo to wear red, white and blue. Alas, I think we looked dashing.

To be fair to Italy, there are many things I will miss when I am gone. Including:

Public transportation.

Mozerella di Buffala. Oh mamma, it's incredible.

Markets. I love markets.

Incredible architecture everywhere.

Pici. The pasta of Siena. It's fresh. And delightful.

Fresh vegetables.

Fields and fields of yellow wheat.

Birkenstocks in every color, shape and size.

The list could go on, but I'll spare you. Happy fourth of July.