A Bright Light in a Big City 
John came into town late Wednesday night. It was so good to see his face. We wasted no time making plans to leave Florence as soon as he got there.
We went to find him a hostel, but because they were having a fashion convention everything was booked. So we did as anyone would do…ran to the train station and went to Milan. Now, please don’t start me on Milan…if you never went there your entire life it would be ok…just take a trip down to Los Angeles on a random week night, throw in the world headquarters for Versace and Gucci, and there is Milan.
Once we got there it was a little after midnight and we were soooo hungry we went to look for food. This place looked like a ghost town, minus all the drunks and bums. We were greeted with metal shutters and closed signs…that is until we saw this bright yellow light. We ran to it light moths to a flame…as soon as we got there we stood in front of this wonderful place, as I said to John, “I have never been more excited to see a McDonalds in my entire life!” John and I were so excited we skipped all the way home signing, “Wanta fanta, don’t you wanta wanta fanta”…
After our feast on chicken nuggets, French fries, apples pieces, fruit parfait, and hamburger we let our little tummies rest and went to sleep.
The next morning we got our train tickets to Chambery (which we will talk about when the time comes) and we had a few hours so we thought since we are in Milan we might as well see a little of it. Even though it was extremly hot we thought we would give it a chance. We saw a pretty park, some designer headquarters, and we both agreed that the prettiest building was the train station. We did find our favorite spot…it was a bit different, maybe some might call it strange, but we found it to be just right. It was this large metal grate that blessed anyone who stepped upon it to a wonderful shower of cold air.
So we took our dehydrated (me) and tired (both of us) bodies back to the train station to leave for France….
An American Girl in Venice
Venice…oh Venice. I have to say that this is the most beautiful place that the Lord has allowed me to set my eyes on. Gondolas lined the canals and danced in the water. Luxurious wooden paneled motorboats glided through the water to their destination. I immediately fell in love. I took to this place and lifestyle instantly.
We went to our hotel and dropped our heavy bags from our tired shoulders…and ventured outside. I pushed open the door and the humid sea air settled on my skin, but I didn’t care…I was in Venice. We walked for a ways and stopped at a bridge connecting us to another island of Venice. This became my favorite spot of Venice; it became my spot…no one else took to it quite as much as me. This is where I sat and ate, or dangled my feet of the side and read Giacomo Casanova. No one bothered me here; people just went about their day.
My trip did not end there. We took a water bus…just imagine, all of the 120 islands of Venice are connected by bridges and there are no land buses or cars. It was amazing, a huge difference from Florence. I could walk without fear of being taken out by a vehicle or scooter. Our waterbus to San Marco took about 30 minutes. It was one of the most beautiful bus rides I have ever been on.
We arrived at San Marco square to birds…tons and tons of birds.I walked past this girl who was allowing them to perch on her arms and thought she was nuts. A group of us shopped and walked around San Marco until it was time to meet for dinner. As we were waiting for the group Shannon and Aimee decided they wanted to feed the birds…I offered to document this occasion by taking pictures because I thought these girls were just as nuts as that girl earlier. Well, little did I know what would happen next. After they had their moment with the birds I found myself being pushed in the mix with food in my hands. Jane and I fed the birds…I even let them perch on my hand. That girl back there…no so crazy…I was in the same boat as all of them. This was a nice lesson of refraining from quick judgment!
The night was beautiful. We went back to the hotel and washed to sticky sea air off of us and set out to watch USA vs. Italy. So hey…we are in Italy…”when in Rome do as the Romans do” right?
The next day we had two tours. The first was a walking tour of San Marco Island. The second was a tour of St. Marc’s church and palace. The palace was breathtaking. This was a well-rounded place, it was used for: politics, it had living quarters, jail cells, stables, and more. These is where the infamous Giacomo Casanova was imprisoned but, leave it to him, escaped thanks to an admirer. One night someone accidentally left a window open and there went Casanova. It has been a great read…he is an amazing writer.
“God only ceases to be God for those who conceive his non-existence as possible. They could not suffer any greater punishment than this.” –Giacomo Casanova
A trip to Venice would not be complete without a gondola ride. A group of us decided we would go. Knowing there were gondolas by my favorite spot I led the group to them. We took two gondolas to accommodate our group. Our gondolier was a young Italian man named Marco. He was the 6th generation gondolier and he really seemed to enjoy his job. He was quite funny and well informed. He told us a lot about Venice and significant buildings we passed.
Watching him maneuver effortlessly around bends and past other boats I posed this questions to him, “So, how hard is it to drive this?”. He laughed and with a thick Italian accent said, “You come try”. I laughed at him as though he had said a joke. But he continued and said, “Come try”. So I made my way to the back of the gondola…without falling off. He rowed with me for a bit than said ok…you try…so I though ok sure this will be easy. He let go and I practically dropped the paddle in the water. I asked him how heavy the paddle was and he lifted it with one hand…nice. Anyway I have a much greater respect for gondoliers now.
The last day on our trip was bittersweet. I was glad we were going home but I so wanted to stay in Venice. I decided I would take all that I could in. I went to Murano, the glass making island, and the cemetery island, and lastly I finished my day in Venice by heading to my spot, dangling my feet over the water reading Giacomo Casanova.
Mr. Darcy meets Dr. KarrSo, I have been dealing with a sinus infection, but I have not let it get me down. I still attended the day trip to Siena and to San Gimignano…I was just a bit tired and slow. It was the day after, though, that I felt like a train wreck. My roommates made so much fun of me all weekend because I kept sniffing this bag…they called it my heroin. It’s a bag filled with peppermint, eucalyptus, and lemon aroma beads. It is the kind of good feeling that instantly cools and numbs all your insides (if I didn’t know better, it sounds like I am talking about drugs). My left nostril became so stuffed at one point, that I was plugging my right one and trying to suck as much air with this bag attached to my left one. It was a sight.
Anyway, I got to school on Tuesday and was falling asleep and felt horrible. My professor was giving us all a hard time about staying up too late, when her eyes fall on me sucking up my herbs into my left nostril. “Are you sick?” she asked me. I nodded. She immediately told me I was GOING to the doctor and proceeded to use me as an example to the entire class of not waiting this long to go to the doctor. I was still sniffing my bag as my classmates were looking at the sickie. So off I went to follow her into the school office to make an appointment. I decided to go during the walk-in time.
3:00 p.m. rolled around and Jessica got me out of bed and walked with me to Dr. Karr’s. We passed the faux David and found the office just fine. I filled out a form and waited. Then out of nowhere, this head popped around the corner and a VERY British voice said, “Who is next?” I peeled my body off my chair and followed him to his office. Once inside he showed me to a nice leather chair and I plopped down. He began to speak, and as he was talking I sat up a little taller and felt like I should have worn a dress and done my hair. This guy was proper! “When did your symptoms first appear?” he asked. I felt like I should have said something like “I was plagued with the symptoms three nights before last.” But instead I sniffed and replied, “Umm...Friday”. The phone rang and he politely told me he had to take the call…I smiled. After he hung up, we talked more about my symptoms and he asked me to take a seat on the medical bed in the back of the room. He checked my temperature. “You have a slight fever; Do you happen to have Tylenol?’ he asked. “Yes”, I said in my most proper voice. Once we were done with the check-up, we moved back to the front of the room at his desk. He sat there for a minute and ran his hands through his long hair…that fell right back into place and twinkled in the light. He asked me about my past with antibiotics and gave me prescription of amoxicillin. He told me to take the first one with gelato…my kind of doctor! It was a very nice visit to the doctor. I wish I could take him home in my purse…like in those Sav-on commercials. Instead of a woman it would be a blond British man with twinkling hair.
Italian hoodlums greet banned beachgoersThis weekend was our first weekend…and we had nothing planned. So a group of us decided we would go to the beach. Well, in order to go to the beach yours truly had to step foot on a train.
Now for you who do not know, I have a little issue with trains…I don’t like them. It all started years ago when my elementary school had a train safety day (I am assuming because the school was near a train). Anyway, the thing that stuck with me was that they said when a train hits a car it is like a car hitting a soda can (I think they had a lovely visual to go with that). So, when I was young and my dad used to get really close to the tracks or he would stop on the tracks…I could just see a Coca Cola can, aka our car, getting smashed to smithereens.
Once aboard, I found out that it is hard to envision yourself under the train, or getting vaporized by it, as a passenger. It actually became quite pleasant. There was so much to see whizzing past me. My roomies got a picture to document how serene I looked.
We arrived at Viareggo. This is a place where most of the rich and famous come to stay.It was beeeautiful…that is until we got kicked off.Yes folks…kicked off. Here in Italy you have to show them the money otherwise you get no sunny. So, we put our foot down and left to wander the streets. After some deliberation we decided to go to another resort and see how much it cost. Seeing as it was almost 4 p.m. we only had to pay 5 euro. So we lounged on chairs and had umbrellas…it was nice. There was even shopping and it came right to me. I could buy a fake-wait a “real Italian fake”, whatever that means-Gucci, Louie, or Prada. I could get a massage for 15 euro, and in case I missed this amazing purchase on every street corner I could buy cheap jewelry. Needless to say, I saved some money and bought an ice cream for 1.60.
We stayed at the beach until 7 or so…and the sun still had not set. We got our stuff together and began our trek home. After browsing through some street vendors we found ourselves at the train station, bought our ticket, and climbed our tired bodies on board. We had to sit through several stops in order to get home…one in particular was eventful.
Let me get you all situated. We were all sitting minding our own business, waiting for the train to start moving again. I glanced outside to see if people were still getting on and my eyes fell on some boys…our glances met and so I looked the other way. Next thing I know we are moving and something flies in the opposite train window hits Jessica and falls under our seats…these little hoodlums had thrown a water balloon at us. That’s a nice how do you do. The funny thing is that it never popped. But that is another subject. The one I want to address is this: Seriously, who fills up water balloons and gets their buddies together to make a trip down to the train station? Ya, I thought so. Keep your balloons boys…they don’t work anyway.
Artist and MarketsToday we had our wonderful class. We got out early yet again…I love it. Anyway, Jessica and I decided we needed to stop hemorrhaging money so we should take a trip to the market. Well, it is about a 20-minute walk to the first market. When we reached to first market we were greeted with bars over the windows…still allowing us to take a glimpse of the food we could have bought. There was a sign that we concluded said, “Closed on the 7th of June”. Lovely.
Anyway, we quickly found our attention elsewhere…leather…tons and tons of leather. Bags, shoes, belts…everything was leather. It was fun to browse. I even found a friend sleeping under a shoe stand.
Artists lined the street sides by the Duome. One in particular caught my attention. He was sketching, smoking, and scratching his head in that cycle over and over again. Nothing distracted him. He had no idea I was taking his picture.
We decided to try and find the second market…which we might find open. This one was about a five-minute walk further north. Now let me explain, all the markets on the south of the Arno River…which is where we live…are specialty shops and they are much more expensive…so we trade the euro expense for the expense of our back and arms. Well, we found our market. It was a bit different. Meat was hanging in the air…I don’t know about you, but would rather not visualize my dinner like that. I might come home a vegetarian.
Well, after 20 minutes in the market we found: spaghetti, sauce, Honey Nut Cheerios, yogurt, orange juice, the famous chocolate spread, six huge bottles of water and for me SOY MILK! I haven’t tried it yet but it came in a strange box. I will update on the taste. We spent less than 20 euro. The one thing we need to find is bread…there was no fresh bread. We are in Italy…the Land of Carbs…and there is not fresh bread to be found. Maybe the bread man was taking a siesta.
After we got our food we started our journey home. I took the water…because my arms needed a workout since I am not working with the Genesis Project here! Jessica had two bags. It was a long long long walk. People looked at me funny…like they don’t buy water and carry it home? Whatever. This trip made me re-evaluate our future shopping trips. I think I may buy a bike. It works nice here; they sell them for about 100 euro but buy them back if you return them within 120 days. That can be my grocery getter.
Bike or no bike I need to set up a grocery system…or just get a good work out!
Faux FiguresSo on Monday we had a walking tour of the city…which was nice. Our tour guide was a bit hard to understand but I think I got the gist of it. If I didn’t understand what she was saying I didn’t take a picture because I didn’t know what it was. It seemed quite logical to me.
When she did explain things and I became interested she usually ended the explanation (after my photo shoot of the piece or building) with, “but this isn’t really it, the real one was destroyed in our flood.”
Anyway…after what was only an hour but felt like 4 we came to the Palazzo Vecchio. My back was tired and I was ready to fall to the ground when my eyes fell on a familiar frame, “was it?”…I thought. I felt excitement rush through me as I grabbed my camera for a picture of the great DAVID when the guide said, “oh, and over there is the famous David…but it is fake”. “But don’t let that bother you, it is an exact replica; it was taken from a mold of the real one!”.
Real shmeal. I didn’t come to Italy to see the faux David.
So, on Tuesday night at our Welcome dinner I decided to share this information with few people. Shocking news was discovered…when it is time to feast my eyes upon the real David, I can’t even take a picture…so this is all you are going to get of David…the faux one. Enjoy.
My Kind of Style...Our apartment is so nice. It is in a quiet part of town and our street is so narrow that our taxi driver had to drop us off at the end. We have a door on the street level with a buzzer...so we can buzz people in (as of now we have only buzzed each other in for fun). It was a learning process...we buzzed every other apartment before we found ours. Its called process of elimination...we know it well. We are considered on the first floor...but that is after you walk up two flights of stairs.
"Our style" (as John would call it) is very cute, very italian. We have white stone walls and tile floors. The apartment slants down as you walk from the front door to the living room. Our roomates door doesnt close due to the ever changing old building.
We are sooo blessed. Other people are going to the pharmacia looking for Tylenol PM becuase they are next to the Duomo and the busy catherdral square. We are one of the two apartments on the south side of the Ponte Vecchio (or the river). And so far, from what I have heard, we are the only apartment with two bathrooms (we only have one toilet...but I am not complaining).
Here is a bit of "our style"...
This is a view from our living room looking to our front door
Our Kitchen
My Bed and view...
Our living room...or "gathering room"...
This is our street...it is called Via Sapiti (apartment buildling 2)
Here is a view out my window while taking my afternoon siesta
This is me...looking at you if you come visit!
