April 29

Ahh, the glorious return of food-related posts! Today, I woke up to an email inbox full of bad news and the reality that there is a world outside of Italy sunk in a little too deeply. I will be on US soil in no less than 3 weeks and I am already feeling the pressure of making the transition. Add a pop test in Cinema class into the mix and you have created one sour Monday. I did what any girl does to help her feel better after a long day: baked. Well, sort of. I made do with the ingredients I had on hand and made a batch of granola. See that heavenly orange glow of the oven? Toasted my stress, just like it toasted those almonds. 

April 28

Blue? Or red? The addresses in Florence are designed to throw you for a doozy. They follow a color "system" (I use system loosely) where blue numbers correspond to residential addresses and red numbers to businesses and the like. The blue and red numbers do not go in order, either. That means that blue 8 could be next door to red 43. Also, street signs are posted on the sides of buildings on small plaques. So, to find out what street you are on, you must crank you neck to find the plaque, halting all pedestrian traffic. The street system was enough to make my poor Grandma proclaim, "There is no way I could ever be on The Amazing Race!"

April 27

Being one with the fishes at Acquario di Livorno. Livorno is a small beach town close to Pisa. Alex, Ashton, and I hopped on a train this morning and checked it out. The aquarium was packed with families trying to avoid the stormy day outside. Livorno itself was the opposite--a little desolate! We struggled to find an open restaurant for lunch. A shortage of restaurants in Italy? Say what? Otherwise, it was a great day. The beach was lined with characteristic Etruscan pebbles and the water was filled with the most adorable single-person sail boats. I love the spontaneity of day trips!

April 26

Today my social media world was overwhelmed with photo posts of the beautiful Old Well. Spring looks good on UNC and everything is in full bloom. It is the last day of classes--LDOC--for my Tar Heels. That means that this afternoon, all the libraries will be empty and bars will be full. I have great memories from ghosts of LDOC's past and I'm sad to be away from campus today. My mood, though, was brightened with this flower shop. It's almost as pretty as the Old Well. Almost. 

April 25

What is it about uniforms that look more like Lego characters than police officers that just screams authority? I have alluded to the hilarious police costumes--oh I mean uniforms--on the blog before. Don't they look like they bought them from Party City for Halloween? These officers casually stroll the streets of Florence. The only times I have seen the officers spring into action is to help a confused tourist with an outstretched map. Perhaps I should be comforted in the fact that the city does not feel the need for a more military-esque police force, but for now I will laugh.

April 24

Capturing this city one gratuitous photo at a time. Incredibly, I did not edit or filter this photo in any way. I am still going strong on Dad's blog challenge! Do any of my dear readers have any other challenges for me?

April 23

My 100th post is dedicated to my Italian professor, Daniele. Not that I would ever pick favorites when it comes to my professors, butttttttt if I had to choose, Daniele would take the cake. Doesn't he just ooze coolness? I will have you know that behind that sly smile of his lies a tongue ring. Yes, you read right. I appreciate his desire to always shake things up in class, mostly for his own, egomaniac enjoyment. My essay for my Italian midterm? Write about what you think I do on the weekend. Class assignment on adjectives? Write a story about me and my girlfriend. He gives the greatest impressions--my favorite being the study abroad girly-girl speaking Italian, closely followed by the Italian preschooler.We had to take this photo 3 times because the first he didn't like his smile, the second made him look too short, and finally he approved of the third. Through all of his craziness, I have learned an incredible amount of Italian in such a short period of time. I credit Daniele with my ability to navigate the cities and peoples of Italy. Grazie, Daniele. 

April 22

San Lorenzo Market. Have you ever been watching a movie where there is some persistent image or theme that keeps coming up that relates perfectly to the characters' lives, but it goes unbeknownst to the character? I can't be the only one that has had that moment of wanting to yell, "It's right in front of you!" Anyways, I've always wondered if there is divine symbolism within our own lives, too, but we are too wrapped up in the immediacy to notice. Let me explain. Today in my literature class, we read a number of short memoirs by immigrants living in Italy. We went on to discuss immigration and how the "others" are perceived within Italian society. It is no secret that the Italians are strongly tied to their heritage and often view change as a threat to their rich culture. Immigration, really first beginning in the 1980s from Northern Africa, is a new, somewhat frightening phenomenon to the Italians. Our landlord made it abundantly clear that no overnight guests of any kind are allowed in the apartment. This is a federal law, designed to crack down on people that house illegal immigrants. Most immigrants work the jobs you would expect. Many are street vendors, janitorial staff, food stand owners, or kitchen staff at restaurants. I have sensed how uncomfortable (I am struggling with word choice and remaining somewhat politically correct) Italians are around immigrants and foreigners. I have had professors stretch the corners of their eyes to refer to Asian people and had the most professional of tour guides stop to say how unsightly he found German women. Racism, though prevalent in every society, is very pronounced here because I sense there is no shame in harboring these feelings. Back to symbolism in our own lives. While walking home from literature, thinking of our discussion, I witnessed a yelling match between a group of African purse vendors and Italian leather vendors occurring in San Lorenzo.  Would you imagine that. What timing. It was uncomfortable--people were staring and other men were trying to forcibly separate the groups. I wasn't sure what their fighting words were, but I am confident that the argument would have been very different had it been between two Italian vendors. There you have it: the movie of my life. At least I noticed the connection!

April 21

Now that I have updated you all on the sounds of Florence, I thought it was only appropriate to give you the sights of Florence. You may be thinking, "The sights of Florence? All of your photo posts are the sights of Florence." Well, I am here to tell you that there are, in fact, two Florences. One Florence is the glamorous art city, tipsy on pleasing tourists, and indulging us in her sophisticated churches and museums. In a way, Florence "for tourists" is a facade; a city designed to be an adult playground. The second Florence is the real Florence--where people live and breathe their normal lives and view tourist season as the price one must pay to live in their home city. I think clotheslines are the best metaphor of the "second Florence:" they are hidden away from the street's view (as dictated by law), they are unpretentious, they are simply a no nonsense necessity. But, upon closer inspection, the clothesline is more telling about the culture of Florence than any Rick Steves travel guide could ever reveal. It shows us how the people--not the people saying "Hello Lady Gaga American, do you want an umbrella?"--truly live. I believe that the greatest travelers are the ones that seek to learn how the other half--the second half--go about their days. 

April 20

There is not a huge homeless population in Florence. There are a few beggars and gypsies that frequent the same spots in areas where tourists with fat wallets fresh from the currency exchange tend to be. Unlike in America, they tend to stand and approach you with a jingling change cup, saying "Buonasera!" (Good evening). Italian men almost always put something in the cup. I've always wondered why. Generosity? Social convention? But, it still throws me for a loop to see them reach into their pockets as they pass the beggars. It is so drilled into our American brains to not give money to homeless on the street (for a number of questionably legitimate reasons). Today, I saw a hilarious interaction ensue--a visual representation of the clash of the haves and have nots. Across the Ponte Vecchio, there are a number of high-end, fancy hotels overlooking the river. Now that the weather is nicer, they are starting to hold a number of weddings. Outside one of these hotels, there was a well-dressed family with the cutest toddler aged son. I assumed they were attending a wedding because they were dressed up and had their son in a baby suit featuring a miniature bow tie. The boy was a ball of energy, running and playing with the precious jerky, uncoordinated movements of a two-year-old. He was all over the place, unable to stay still. Well, all hell broke loose when he ran over to a homeless man, stole his change cup from the ground, and began shaking it like a marracca. I have never seen two parents sweep in so fast. The homeless man was completely unphased. I couldn't help but laugh!

April 19

Vulgar, or hilarious? Today, I finally saw Michelangelo's David at the Galleria Accademia. Never in my life have I had a visceral reaction to a piece of art--until today. For one, the statue is huge. I had no idea it was so large at 516 cm tall. The detail is remarkable. I stared at the hand's of David for no less than five minutes. It truly seemed like he could come to life at any moment and say "Gotcha!" to all of us. (Hey, I see the makings of a Hollywood blockbuster here). It was incredible--and that says a lot coming from my neck of the woods. Michelangelo, I tip my hat to you. 

April 18

After getting back to the apartment after classes today (this was actually easier said than done--someone's key broke off in the door to the building, leaving me stranded and desperately buzzing upstairs hoping somone could let me in), I just wanted to talk to my dad! I miss his humor and it had been awhile since our last father-daughter banter session. He gave me a blogger challenge: one week without mentions of food or being cheap and especially no mentions of being cheap with food. So, today, I am titling this post "The Sounds of Florence." Now that spring is in full gear, every window in this air conditioning-lacking city has been opened! Unpredictably, because all of the buildings are so close to one another and are made of stone, I have been hearing a wild mix of voices, music, singing, cooking clatter, accordions, arguing couples, couples in love, saxophones, Adele's "Skyfall," and the nonsense that the pub below my bedroom puts on every night. The open windows paired with the echoes bouncing off stone leads to loads of ear entertainment.

April 17

What a treat. I am at a loss of words. Literally! I have spent the last 5 minutes staring off into space trying to come up with a pun about socks being knocked off. Anyways! Today, my cooking class went out to lunch. It was my kind of field trip. We went to a restaurant tucked in an alleyway behind the Uffizi called Ora d'Aria because my professor is friends with the head chef. We each had to pay 30 euro to attend. For the girl that scoffs at 2 euro gelato, I thought the price was pretty steep for a meal for students. Little did I know, the meal was heavily discounted and a person off the street would have paid no less than 90 euro for the meal. Fancy, schmancy. Upon sitting down, I placed my purse next to my chair. Within seconds, a waiter brought out a small stool and placed my purse on it for me. We were seated in a private room downstairs. Get this. All of the plates were sent to the basement on a food elevator that opened near our table. Get out of town. A food elevator! I can't wait to tell you about the menu. The meal started with a bread basket with three choices of bread: a salty rosemary, traditional, and yeasty rolls. Our glasses were constantly being filled with beer! Strange not to have wine. The first course was my favorite (upper left corner): farro stewed in port wine, topped with a poached egg and pancetta powder (for the meat eaters). It was sweet and savory. My lord, I wanted more! Next, we had a creamy chickpea soup with squid ink (lower left). I was horrified that some unadventurous students wouldn't try it with the mention of squid ink. Live a little people! Next came tagliatelli stuffed with tuna in a broccoli sauce with creamed cheese. Interesting dish. Served very al dente. Next, was the most beautiful piece of cod, poached in olive oil, topped with a pea puree. Took me straight to the Cape. Then, my phone died. I am only getting around 2 hours of battery life. Our dessert course was called "The Experience" and was a conceptual dish meant to symbolize the different soils of Tuscany. It had four elements: a lime gelato, a granita, powdered and sweetened cocoa, and a hazelnut foam. The four parts were served in a round bowl and we were instructed to swirl our spoons around to get some of each element before tasting. Wow. Loved it. The lime and chocolate were a surprisingly great pair. We ended with espresso. This meal was incredible! We were able to thank the chef on our way out.

April 16

Being abroad in the wake of an American tragesty has been eye-opening and humbling. I was watching my Twitter feed yesterday afternoon, enjoying updates and oogling about the winners of the Marathon. Within a matter of minutes, as you all know, things changed and I was glued to CNN.com for more information. Today, every one of my professors took time to give his or her condolences and to make sure we were aware of the situation. I found this both comforting and touching that tragic events, though far away, bring pause regardless of national identity. As I ran the route nearest and dearest to my Florentine heart this afternoon, I was shocked to see that the American embassy had been entirely taped off and there were more guards out front than usual. Something inside of me left me wanting to yell, "Take care of my country!" Today I saw just how much American news, culture, politics, events, and happenings come to affect the world. We do not exist in a vacuum. Rest easy knowing that many thoughts are flowing across the Atlantic and into the Boston Harbor on this day.

April 15

Upon arriving in Florence, I was shocked--almost offended--at how Italians seemed to shove their way through the streets. Am I so touristy, so American-looking, so un-Italian I don't even warrant a "Scusa?" Now, I understand why the Italians are pushy. They are simply sick and tired of making their way through the masses when they have somewhere to be. Today, I was running late for my literature class (totally my fault, I was sucked into reading blogs and lost track of time), so I needed to high-tail my way to class. My usual 15 minute walk seemed to double, as I had to bop and weave through groups of slow-moving yet overzealous tour groups taking photos of the Duomo. I even brushed shoulders with a few people and found myself wanting to yell "Move people, move!" Does this make me rude? Or just embracing of the Italian culture? What has Florence turned me into?!

April 14

Biking through the Chianti region on the most beautiful day in Italy since arriving in January. Kelsey, Alex, and I booked a bike tour for the weekend upon seeing (and squealing) the weather report. High of 74, no chance of rain, and winds only at 1mph. With that kind of forecast, it would be sinful to spend the day indoors. We met our guide and group in the city center and then we were transported by van to the touring company's Chianti headquarters to get bikes. Our guide was a character. Joseph was from Australia, came to Italy on a whim, swore like a sailor, and had an opinion about everything. He was spitting facts, dates, and names left and right during the tour, leaving Alex and I joking that he was making everything up and tourists' gullible ears would never know the difference. The ride was a combination of challenge and leisure: after winding and grinding our way to the top of a hill, we rested our sweaty-selves and tired booties and took in the sights. Cute Alex made the effort to say "Boungiorno!" to every person we passed while biking. We stopped for lunch at a winery (specializing in Chianti wines) and had a dual wine tasting (I completely preferred the 13 euro bottle to the 28); potato, beet, and chickpea salad; leek risotto; and pasta with a cheesy ragu. Kelsey was killing it with her wine knowledge today. Every question Joseph asked (What kind of grapes make Chianti? What is the meaning of this label? How do wineries produce a rose?), Kelsey knew the answer to! Coincidentally, there was a couple on the tour with us from Colorado with a daughter who just graduated from Chapel Hill. It was strange to see the UNC emblem on the dad's baseball cap! We ended the tour with a gelato stop and the three of us had fun providing restaurant recommendations and giving our Florence two-cents. A great day, through and through. Tomorrow, may be a different story though. Those bikes are tough on the glutes, if you catch my drift. 

April 13

From left to right: Kelsey, Gillian, Tara, some blogger chick, Alex. I am a total hypocrite. Remember just a few days ago when I was blogging about how my early semester urgency to do as much as possible had returned? Today was complete evidence to the contrary. Per the usual, I woke up early to a silent apartment. I usually love this morning time when it is quiet and I have the kitchen to myself to have coffee and breakfast while listening to podcasts (mostly NPR--what is my age again?) and checking email. This morning, I woke up, and then promptly fell asleep on the living room couch. It was lazy, but I loved it. I had been short on sleep as the piazza beneath our apartment is getting noisier and noisier as tourists flood in. As you can see, after I had rolled myself off of the couch, my roommates and I had a fabulous (American-style) brunch this afternoon. Tara's sorority sent her a care package containing all kinds of American goodies. Think Jif peanut butter, Starbursts, Honey Nut Cheerios, Burt's Bees chapstick, and Aunt Jemima pancake mix. Tara was kind enough to share the pancakes with us. While sipping on Blood Orange mimosas and listening to country music, we prepared a meal that could cure even the worst case of homesickness with such a strong dose of Americanism. I was in charge of the scrambled eggs. I even made a caramel sauce that I learned to make in my cooking class as a maple syrup substitute. Lazy or leisurely of a day? I'll let you decide.

April 12

Today, besides being Groundhog Day, was beautiful in Florence. I can give you a synopsis of my day in only a few words: sun, cheese samples at the market, roommates, walk to the park, subsequent tired feet, games in Italian class, and burnt granola. Now, I leave you with a song that you will leave better than you came after you listen to it!

April 11

Usually on Thursday afternoons, I do my "it's the weekend!" dance. The last day of the school week always reminds me of Friday afternoons in high school: leaving school feeling free, looking forward to a football game that night and dinner out with the family. Today, though, didn't feel that way because we have a day of makeup classes on Friday. I have a growing to-do list of things to prepare for the end of the semester and I was anxious to get a lot done this afternoon. To ease our study abroad sorrows, Kelsey, Alex, and I tried a new (to us) restaurant in Santo Spirito for dinner. It was lovely conversation, people watching, and food.

April 10

What is it about sunshine that can immediately put a smile on your face? Well, sunlight acts like a zeitgeber on the suprachiasmatic nucleus of the hypothalamus--wait--you didn't ask for a nerd response? Science aside, sunshine is lovely and I tried to take in as much of it as possible. After the lamest cooking class yesterday (jams and canned vegetables, really?), I was dying to be in the open air. I window shopped and wandered the city, mostly following sidewalks that were in the sun. I am incredibly appreciative that I have established my sense of direction within the city center. At the beginning of the semester, I had a few too many of those "time to formulate plan B because I am never getting home, ever" moments. The same urgency to take everything in that I had at the beginning of the semester has returned. Time is tickin' and I want to make sure I have fulfilled by bucket list and more.

April 9

Il dolce far niente. The Italian phrase meaning "the sweetness of doing nothing." I have become a lot more mindful of noticing how Italians practice the art of doing nothing at all. I admire it! Take for example a woman I saw in the Boboli Gardens. It was a Sunday afternoon, she was alone, and had perched herself on an overlook of the city with the newspaper. She seemed to have no care in the world, no place to be, no weight on her shoulders. I am not suggesting that the Italians do not have their share of stress, problems, or the senseless knocking of the big-bad-world upon them; rather that they know better how to cope with these things. It truly is sweet to be completely immersed in the moment in front of you.

April 8

After only going to one day of classes last week, today gave me a rude awakening. Wait, not every day can be spent lounging in the presence of incredible natural scenery? Sigh. I seriously thought that I had fumbled with the dial on my watch and accidently changed the time in my two-and-a-half hour literature class this afternoon. I had one of those "I can't possibly have an hour left, right?" moments. My cinema class was instantly made brighter with my purchase of a cappucino before class. Imagine that, right? Okay, whiney, privledged study abroad student complaint is over now. Let's keep my "problems" in perspective here. I spent a good portion of my night planning the rest of my time in Italy and what summer will look like. Sorry Dave Matthews, I disagree. I think the future holds plenty of our better days.

April 7

I had an incredible morning running in Florence's annual 10k! There was also a half marathon as well. Registration was only 5 euro and included a free t-shirt and some goodies. I was one of the few females at the start line. I liked that though! It made me feel like a tough jock! If you thought the Italians were pushy just walking through the street, you ain't seen nothing yet. It was a mad house making my way across the start line. I know from past races that I tend to run the first leg too conservatively, so I went out hard and hoped my leggies would hold on. They did! I finished in 51:59. The route was flat and went all through the city center and the outskirts of the city. Loved hearing "Brava! Brava!" from spectators. I am totally proud of my time--a personal best! It was such a fun, memorable race. And get this. Most American races have bagels and cream cheese for runners at the finish line. Italy? Focaccia and olive oil.

April 6

Today was all about the return to normalcy. After a weekend in France, a visit from Russell, midterms, spring break to the United Kingdom, and traveling with Mom and Grandma, the past three weeks have been incredibly busy. Would I change any of that? Not for a second. I had a quiet morning around the apartment and went to the market to stock up on goodies for this week. When I got to the butcher counter where I always buy my eggs (they have the most unreal, fresh orange yolk), the butcher already had my 6 eggs and receipt ready to go. He must have seen me walk in. Talk about feelin' like a local. The high today in Florence was 66. The city is a different place in warm weather: almost all of the seasonal shops are open, tourists crowd every square, and puffy coats are long-gone. Things seem fresher and even happier. I associate my tan pea coat (so sick of it!) with Florence, so spring really does seem like a renewal. I took a run through the Cascine Park--a weekend favorite--and came home to indulge in some cooking! It's been a while since I have been able to cook. I made some homemade granola and an awesome lentil and quinoa salad. Mom brought me a big ole bag of quinoa all the way from home. I am nearly finished with The Fault in Our Stars--a book that came highly recommended to me from friends. Lazy, sunny, and all things that are good about Saturdays.

April 5

After a fabulous hotel breakfast (with tons of stolen fruit for my apartment), Mom, Grandma, and I decided to spend the day in Sorrento--the town where we stayed the previous night. We had toyed with going to see the island of Capri, but travel would have been crazy: walk to dock, take elevator to bottom of dock, take boat to Capri, check luggage on island, take lift to top of island, come back down, get luggage, take hydrofoil to Naples, take cab to Naples train station, take train to Florence. Wow-zers. We decided we were more in the mood for a leisurely day, and leisurely it was. We soaked in the sun and explored the shops all around the town. We made our way through a lemon garden, filled to the brim with huge fruits and yellow flowers. We even sampled lemoncello (I don't like it, but Mom and Grandma were diggin' it) made from the lemons in the garden. Though Sorrento is a town for tourists with its souvenirs, faux Italian restaurants, and walking tours, it is simply the price you have to pay for the views. We felt like "real Italians" simply sitting on a bench and people watching for an extended period of time. After a lunch outdoors in the sun, we caught a local train into Naples to get our high speed train back to Florence. 

April 4

Eye candy. It was the theme of the day. Mom booked a tour guide for us today to take us through the Amalfi Coast, Sorrento, Positano, and Rafello. Holy views. It was incredible. The towns are all connected by the tiniest, windiest roads. It made us thankful to have someone to take us around. Renting a car here would be a challenge on The Amazing Race proportions. Our tour guides were hoots. The two of them--we are still debating the proper pronunciation of their names--were locals and spent much of the ride waving to people they knew from the car. They were completely knowledgeable about the area and could answer even our most minute questions. Positano was my favorite town. The locals there seemed genuinely happy and the beaches were out of this world. Mom, a fish in her past life, rolled up her jeans and got in the water. We shopped though local clothing stores and took in the views. Amalfi was the most touristy or "chotsky" of the towns that we saw--just an overload of lemon soap shops and mediocre pastry shops flooded with tourists. We are spending the night in Sorrento and enjoyed walking the endearing, tropical streets after our long day.

April 3

This morning began in the 5 o'clock hour. Mom, Grandma, and I had the tickets to catch the first train out of Florence to Naples. I had one of those mornings where my eyes couldn't shake their tired feeling. I spent the 3 hour train ride asleep on my sweet Grandma's shoulder. Naples is a world of its own. Busy with people and traffic like Rome, but the buildings and homes look like they have taken a beating from time and poverty. The landscapes are lusher and even more tropical looking than Florence. The Italians even look different than the Tuscans I am used to seeing: their complexion and hair are much darker and many have stunning bright green eyes. We transferred to a local train to make our way to the Pompei ruins. It was difficult to figure out which train line we were on and we ended up striking up a conversation with a man from Milan and his Brazilian fiancée. When I told him I was from North Carolina, he started rambling about Duke, the Panthers, and the Bobcats. Never, ever have I met an Italian with such an interest in American sports. It was wild to have a Carolina-is-better-than-Duke debate at a train stop in Naples. We finally arrived at the ruins and swiftly purchased tickets and self-guided tour "phones." It was incredible to see the city that I have studied for so many years. I recognized some of the spots from pictures in textbooks and documentaries I had watched. Pompei is most known for the 79AD eruption of Mount Vesuvius that covered the city in ash and rendered it frozen in time. It was not discovered again until the 1800s and underwent excavation. I was struck with how large the city was. For whatever reason, I thought it would be smaller, but we absolutely could have spent an entire day there exploring each nook and cranny. The coolest part, in the most un-morbid way, was seeing the bodies of the Pompeians that were preserved with Mt. Vesuvius's unforgiving ash. We could literally see their last moments before the hot, dense ash, sadly, suffocated and buried them simultaneously. Most of the bodies were turned to the ground or covering their face, in a last stitch effort to protect themselves. We checked into our Las Vegas-esque hotel later that night. We had the pleasure of getting lost and stumbling upon perhaps the best restaurant I have tried in Italy. The city of Pompei is, well, sketchy, and we had reservations about walking the streets at night, let alone finding a delicious, authentic restaurant. We ate at Primmo Ammore. We were seated at a table right in front of the chef. We could see all of the happenings of the kitchen. After a local bottle of white wine, focaccia, and the most beautifully-plated complimentary grilled eggplant appetizer, I dug into my entree. I was feeling adventurous and asked the chef to make me a vegetarian pasta however he would like. Who needs a menu? I was served a homemade tagliatelli with grilled artichokes and some sort of olive oil-based yum of a sauce. Grandma had bomb dot com seafood risotti overflowing with clams and Mom had seafood ravoli with lemon tomato sauce. For dessert, we ordered the fresh fruit platter, and were served the most ornate plate of thin, thin sliced pineapple, melon, blood oranges, strawberries, and raspberry sauce for dipping. We were unsure of what the cost of the meal would be--ordering dishes not on the menu, picking a bottle of wine based on description and not price, appetizers and bread--and were shocked at the 55 euro bill. It was a steal.

April 2

I woke up thinking about Mom and Grandma this morning. I had visions of them getting lost on the way to the train station, or getting distracted by the goodies at San Lorenzo Market and missing their bus to Siena, or their bus reservation being misplaced. Well, I shouldn't have worried because they got off without a hitch. They did the same bus tour of Tuscany that I did in January: Siena, San Gimignano, and Pisa, with a stop at an organic winery for lunch. I had my first day back in classes. Cue "wahh wahh" music. I got two of my midterms back, and my inner nerd was very pleased with my grades. Only nerds get wound up with grades while studying abroad. I had a catch-up day in Florence: emails, assignments, and errands. I met back up with them to pack for our trip to Pompei tomorrow and grab a quick pizza. I loved hearing about their adventures in Siena, Grandma's first Italian hot chocolate (think Hershey's syrup), drinking wine atop San Gimignano, and posing with (what they thought was a disappointing) Leaning Tower. Grandma was visibly exhausted by the end of the day: she battled it out with a mosquito in the hotel room until she smashed him to smitherines at 4:30am the night before. It is another early morning tomorrow. No rest for the weary.

April 1

What a crappy day. April Fools! It was a fantastic day, jam-packed with all kinds of Tuscany lovin' with Mom and Grandma. We had an early morning. We met at the Duomo (yes, Thelma and Louise navigated themselves to the Duomo without any help) and Mom and I climbed to the top. Though it was my second time seeing Brunelleschi's dome up close and personal, it was still a "worth it" experience. When my goofy mother was looking at the art on the dome, she pointed out the depiction of the devil to an Italian family by saying "Diablo!" in her scariest, devil voice. Diablo, ladies and gentlemen, is a Spanish word and I cracked up at the unsuspecting faces of the family. We met back up with Grandma (who totally would have crushed those 463 steps to the top!) and went to see Santa Croce--the second most famous church in Florence. Then, we honed in our inner, spontaneous travelers and decided to walk to the train station and hop on a train to Lucca. It was Grandma's first time on a train! A quick nap and an hour and a half later, we arrived at the walls of the city. I went to Lucca with Maggie and Kelsey just a few weeks before, but it was a freezing and rainy day. Lucca is a different place in the sun. Families were out in full force, riding their bikes and walking along the wide city walls. It was simply lovely to see all of the Easter weekend love and togetherness (sounds a bit like a bad 60s song, but I assure you it was nothing like that). We walked through the tree-lined streets and stumbled upon a food market selling all types of local meats, cheeses, pastries, and sauces. I can't say too much more about the market, or else some of my loyal readers won't be surprised by their gift souvenirs. We searched for a lunch place and stumbled upon a place called Trattoria da Leo. We stopped in when we heard ample Italian and saw it was packed. A short wait for a table later, and we were sitting in a packed dining room, filled with Italian families and their children. It was a true, authentic experience to see husbands and wives feed each other with a shared fork across the tables, with their children happily eating their spaghetti. The three of us feasted on fresh bread, mixed salads, stewed beans, farro soup, and roasted vegetables.We were laughing as two young, red-headed twin girls stared at me with huge eyes from their table. We only assumed it was because of the strange language they heard me speaking. We explored Lucca and walked along the walls until our 4:30 train. We were pooped on the way home and, of course, had a child with ADD (allegedly) sitting behind us. We returned to Florence and Mom negotiated for a beautiful brown leather purse in San Lorenzo market. Dinner was courtesy of Kitsch aperitivo. We were graced with the lovely Kelsey, too. I told Grandma she was the fifth character in Sex and the City, as she ordered a Cosmopolitan for her drink. I think the ladies loved the buffet--especially the gigantic fruit salad for dessert. I said good night and wished them a fabulous time on their day trip to Siena tomorrow. I am truly going to miss them tomorrow!