POTD

Why am I so behind? Here's a summary of my life for the past couple of weeks.

Enjoy.

26 April 2012  Boboli Gardens

Today was my very last class for the semester. I have to exams and a paper left. I can't believe how fast it's gone. I still have many of my mom's pictures to take. I got one today and headed to the Boboli Gardens to find two more. I spent an hour walking around them and didn't find either. I can't believe how expansive the gardens are.

25 April 2012  Fiesole

I have wanted to visit Fiesole all semester. I finally got to Wednesday on Italian Liberation Day when we didn't have school. Jessica, Kate and I took the bus up to the small town on a hill for dinner and the sunset. It was so peaceful. 

23 April 2012  Finals

The title says it all.

22 April 2012  Venice

We had about three hours of free time Sunday. It started to storm for it. I couldn't even be mad after the two gorgeous days we had despite a forecast of rain. And even storming, this city is beautiful.

21 April 2012  Venezia

In between a couple of visits to churches/museums, I got to wander through the city. I never stopped being amazed by it. I don't think I ever will be.

20 April 2012  Gondola

It stopped raining. I was in Venice. I rode in a Gondola. What else do I need to be happy?

18 April 2012  Rain, rain go away. Come again when I'm in the USA.

This is the only picture I took between my weekend trips, but it's a pretty accurate description of the entire week. It just rained and rained and rained.

15 April 2012  Pompei

And this lovely weather was the perfect cap to our rainy weekend in Amalfi. It may have been from under an umbrella and while looking like a wet rat, but at least we got to see Pompei and Mount Vesuvius. 

14 April 2012  Reggia di Caserta

We were supposed to go to Positano today. Due to the thunderstorms predicted for the entire day, we switched our itinerary. We saw a castle and ate a meter of pizza instead. Fair enough trade.

13 April 2012  Capri

This wasn't exactly what we had in mind when we headed to Capri.

11 April 2012  Piazza della Santissima Annunziata

For class today the Italian composition class took us to Piazza della Santissima Annunziata. They told us about the area in Italian. I only caught about 25 percent of it. I wish I could speak Italian well. It started pouring as we walked back home — a good preview of our 

Rita in Florence 30 Years Later

This is one of the coolest pictures I've gotten to do. I think in 30 years I'll send my child (or perhaps niece/nephew) to Florence, then go visit them and start making a tradition out of it.

I'm so glad my mom got to come back here. It gives me hope that I will one day too.
Although I'd like if it could be sooner than in 30 years.

Piazzale Michelangelo

Welcome to Italy, Mum and Dad!

Sunday was an early start. Very early.

We had a flight to catch at 6:30 a.m. from an airport an hour outside of the city, which meant a taxi at 4 a.m.

Jay made me the English tea I had failed to drink all weekend. It was fantastic and now part of my daily routine. Despite the caffeine, the travel was largely a blur. I sat between my parents on the way to the airport and was practically lulled to sleep by the street markers rhythmically disappearing underneath the car in front of me.

The airport was far more busy than we were expecting. We started to get worried as we waited in line to check in. We had assumed the weight limit would be the same or close to what it was for their flight from the US. I was wrong.

We were 7-8 kilos over the 15-kilo weight limit for each of their 50-pound bags. (And they gave me a hard time for two 50-pound bags for four months) The charge was £20 per kilo overweight. It would have neared $500 in fees. Instead we ended up doing the same thing I did in Greece: pay for an extra suitcase instead of extra weight. We were going to be cutting it close. We ran around the corner and found the cheapest biggest bag we could. It was a rolling duffle for £40. Perfect. As my mom and I threw stuff from suitcase to suitcase in a tornado of clothes and belongings, my dad ran across the open area to a scale, frantically weighing one at a time for 1 pound.

He’d come hurtling back with our verdict. “One more kilo in here! Give me another one.”

With some random stuff shoved into our carry-ons (My mom took one of my boots on the plane. Only one), we ran back to the check-in counter. The man let us line jump, and we reweighed our luggage. 15.4, 14.7, 14.9.

Close enough.

Even better, my mom had already paid for a third bag for me when she bought the tickets. I only brought my backpack for the weekend, figuring it would save us stress and money. It still did.

On to security! I hopped from one foot to the other, anxious to get through in time, but we did. We ran all the way to our gate, barreling down the final empty hallway only to practically run into the long line to board. We stood around for 10 minutes before walking outside and up to the plane.

We took Ryan Air, which is a free-for-all for seats, but my mom and I found some next to each other. I settled in with my cough drops and bottle of water and dozed for most of the flight. We landed in Pisa around 9:30 a.m., welcomed with Ryan Air’s customary triumphant landing music I had heard about.

My parents resituated our luggage again and shoved our carry-ons into our newly acquired duffle as I went to buy bus tickets into town. I snacked on the banana I bought as I led them out to the bus stop, asking a couple times for directions to the right one. The bus arrived soon, but we were nearly the first one to sit down. Thank goodness, because we were more of sardines than passengers. People were trying to get on by pushing against the wall of people inside with all the force they could muster. Eventually the doors closed on these people and we were off.

When we got to the train station, we walked to the end to drop off our luggage. It was about €3 per bag for the day if I remember correctly. Relieved to be rid of our extra weight at least for a little bit, we headed toward the Leaning Tower of Pisa! It was nice to know the way this time, after having been there in January. Before we got too far, the first order of business was caffeine. We all needed it.

We took a pit stop in a small café that seemed to be the only one open for three cappuccinos and three pastries.

As we approached the Arno, I could hear shouting and cheering. We got closer and saw there was some sort of race going on. A few people were scattered along the wall

Some people who appeared to have finished the race/run were jogging back to run alongside people in support. We walked along trying to stay out of their way.

My parents kept noticing small things, like the shutters on the windows and the plants sitting on balconies. It was cool to see them have similar reactions as my CCI family and I had when we came here for our first trip this semester.

Rita!

We rounded the corner to see the tower. It’s still just as startling. I’m walking along simple Italian streets and expect to find another one around the corner at the end, but am instead faced with the famous landmark.

I walked around as my parents read signs about the tower. They followed me eventually around the church. We slipped inside the church to find a mass going on! There were several other tourists standing quietly in the back behind the rope that blocked off the aisle. I hadn’t gone inside any of the buildings before, so I’m glad I got to this time. It was really cool to see, but I felt weird. I can’t imagine sitting through church with people watching it behind me.

We walked out and around the baptistery, where we found a place to sit on the grass.

We were exhausted, but I reminded them we had a lot more in store for today, so we better get it together. We walked down the long line of souvenir stands. My mom picked up a few presents for Lorraine and others, and I bought a couple things I missed getting last time.

My parents took the obligatory Pisa pictures before we headed to lunch.

We went back to the same place I got pizza last time. It was just as good. My parents liked it too. My dad said he wasn’t expecting it to be good based on how it looked. It proved its worth.

Don’t judge a pizza by its appearance.

By now we were pretty much done with Pisa. And I was really excited to get to Florence. We decided to take the bus back to the train station just to save time. 

In the end, I’m not sure the bus made a huge difference. The waitress pointed us in the right direction to find the stop, and once there I asked a man at a food stand where to buy tickets. He told me on the bus.

We waited for almost 10 minutes. When we got on I asked him how to pay. He said something about “finito,” and directed me past. I was a little confused, but sat down. I guess that means we pay at the end.

But we didn’t reach that point. About three blocks away from the train station, the driver pulled to a stop and opened the door. He exchanged a couple of words I couldn’t hear with someone standing outside, then without warning bolted. He literally just darted off the bus and took off running — sprinting. The man outside didn’t seem fazed. He just stood around as he was before we pulled up. I looked around at people on the bus. They looked equally confused. I waited a minute or so, but didn’t see any sign of him. “Guess we got a free ride,” I shrugged and led my parents off the bus. It was the strangest thing. It didn’t even cross my mind until now that it was actually April Fool’s Day. What a coincidence.

We walked the rest of the way to the train station. My cough was starting to sound worse, so my dad bought me some cold medicine and cough drops before we caught our ride back to Firenze! My parents napped most of the hour ride, and I dozed off a couple times myself. We got into Santa Maria Novella around 2 p.m. Still plenty of day left! The wonders of waking up at 3:30 a.m.

My parents showed me their address, and I was surprised to realize I actually knew where the street was. I checked with some police just to make sure and took them a couple of blocks away to their Italian home!

They were staying at an apartment owned by Barb’s brother. Barb is the woman my mom backpacked with 30 years ago. The place was absolutely gorgeous and gigantic. It had three bathrooms, two of which had lofts inside of them with desks or beds above, two full baths, an entry way, living room, kitchen, dining room, laundry room (how strange to not have your washer in your kitchen) and the best part: a rooftop terrace.

The entire CCI family could have stayed there. It’d be a little cozy, but we like each other well enough. Just give us a couple of air mattresses.

My parents admitted defeat and took a nap. I took a shower instead to refuel. Eventually we got back out there. We walked into town and around the Duomo. I showed them my school and my apartment before heading up to Piazzale Michelangelo. I wanted to do it that first day, but I didn’t suggest it because I figured they were too tired. My mom actually proposed the idea! My dad wasn’t wearing the right shoes, but we talked him into it. We stopped at Gelateria dei Neri, and I spent everything I had left in my pockets to buy three gelatos.

I hadn’t walked up to Piazzale Michelangelo in about a month. I wish I had time to do it more often. It was beautiful as usual. 

We took our photos and stood around looking over the city. I pointed out everything I knew on the skyline.

Mumsie made friends with Pinocchio

Soon hunger got the best of us, and we walked back down to the city. After a quick pitstop in my apartment, I took them to Osteria del Gatto e la Volpe.

It was delicious as usual. My dad didn’t get exactly what he was looking for, but he had all week for incredible Italian food.

After dinner we walked to Meta so they could have some food for breakfast. I wanted to walk around more, but we were all tired and my dad told me my cough was beginning to sound like the Bubonic Plague. I couldn’t really argue. Over the next week I realized I could literally part a path for me through crowds with the sound of my cough.

I led them to the Duomo, and we said goodbye at the intersection for their street. They were off to Rome for Monday and Tuesday. I wished them a safe trip and walked home.

It was such a great first day in the city. I hope they enjoyed it as much as I did! How could anyone not? We’re in Florence!

Diversity Diary #9

Greece was really the first time I got to talk to talk to Europeans other than Italians. Although I had been to Switzerland, we didn’t really get a chance to meet anyone besides other American students traveling and staying at the hostel. Most everyone else was shut inside for the coldest weekend of the year.

I mentioned that we made friends with a Brit, James, for a couple of days in Athens. He made his opinion of Italians clear. “Ohhhh Italy. Italian men.” Then he proceeded to mock the stereotypical over-sexed, passionate Italian man. “Kissy kissy ohh mwah mwah mwah.”

It made me laugh, but it got me thinking about stereotypes. Americans certainly have plenty of assumptions about European countries, but I hadn’t really thought about the stereotypes formed within Europe of their neighboring countries.

In contrast to the wildly inappropriate Italian men, James also said people perceive Englishmen as cold and unfeeling. He didn’t see why not being as showy as Italians made him cold. It was an interesting conversation.

A few days later we ran into an Armenian man in Santorini. Now I’ve already heard Italians’ general presumption about Armenians. “Stay away from the Armenians.” People have said the inappropriate behavior and disrespectful cat calls of “Ciao bella!” come from Armenians, not Italians as American students often mistake. As a whole, they’re not a favorable crowd to Italians.

Well this man didn’t have too many kind words to speak of Italians either. When we told him we study in Italy, his immediate question was “what do you think of Italians?” We didn’t really give him an answer before he was telling us his own opinion. “They’re not helpful at all. In my culture, in my country, if your fellow man needs help, you help him. They don’t ever help me when I’m there. Not for directions. Nothing. They don’t like to help people.” My best guess is this may be true, but the stereotype Italians have of Armenians is probably largely to blame. Who knows though?

I just thought it was really interesting to hear from both sides of this. I felt like I was listening to both sides of a stupid argument between bickering children.

Siamo Andati al Liceo

Siamo andati al liceo — we went to the high school

Thursday (March 29) Nicoletta took us to an Italian high school so we could practice our speaking skills. We would talk to students in Italian for a little bit and then switch to English so they could practice the language.
We met at the school at 10 a.m. before walking to a bus stop past Piazza della Repubblica. After about half an hour on a bus, we got off to walk the remainder of the way. The area had a very different feel, and it was great to see another part of the city.
There were much more modern buildings with shops lining the streets and apartments stacked on top. The roads were wide and paved as opposed to the narrow cobblestone alleyways in the city center. We walked along the sidewalk out of the busier area and toward greenery. We made our way down a small drive surrounded by tall grass.
When we reached the high school, a teacher met us in the parking lot. As her and Nicoletta talked over their plan for the class, we looked up at the school. It was a plain off-white building with two stories. Italian 17- and 18-year-old boys dangled out of all the open windows, even those that were barred, trying to catch a glimpse of the visitors. Nicoletta had warned us to cover up for these rascals, but it was such a beautiful day none of us really listened. Of the 10 of us, there were only two boys. Most if not all of the girls were in dresses and only half were wearing tights. We got what we asked for — drooling Italian teenage boys. They yelled to us and waved indistinguishable paper signs in our direction.
Nicoletta and the other teacher ushered us inside. As we stood in the hallway, I started to get nervous. I hadn't done anything to prepare for this. Some of my classmates had written some questions down and taken notes. Caitlin and I hadn't done a thing, and we were going to be partners. We stood waiting, and Nicoletta took us two by two into the classroom and sat us with groups of 4-5 Italian students. Caitlin and I were up next. I stood in the doorway scanning the room. It was absolute chaos. People were shuffling around trying to form groups. The scrape of moving chairs and tables barely broke through the loud babel of Italian. Students from other classes were literally trying to climb through the windows into the room. This oughta be fun, I thought to myself.
Caitlin and I got lucky. We were paired with the only three girls in the class and a very nice guy. We started with introductions — names, ages, families. They were all 17 or 18.
We asked them what music they listen to. Marco said he liked Eminem and Linkin Park. We all seemed to agree on our dislike of Justin Bieber. We asked them about their school. It was an agricultural school, which Nicoletta later explained is an alternative high school. They learn all of the basic subjects, but focus on farming skills. We asked them how long they had been studying English. They said since they were 8 or 9. I gulped. They're going to make us look like fools once we switch to English.
The conversation started to drag. We asked them about what kind of pets they had, and we told them the same. Caitlin wanted to say she missed her pets back home. She turned to me and asked how to say "I miss." I incorrectly told her "manche." She kept saying "mi manche," but it didn't seem to be getting across. Marco just stared at us puzzled. He curled on arm under to scratch his armpit and lifted the other to scratch his head. "Monkey?!? Monkey??"
"No! No! Mi manche!"
Everyone was laughing. We called Nicoletta over for help. I was off my a letter. Mi mancha il mio carne. I miss my dog.
We cleared it up with Marco, but the idea of Caitlin having a pet monkey didn't pass quickly. The girls couldn't stop laughing. They leaned over to the next table and got them laughing about it too.
Soon enough it was time to switch to English. Even though we'll feel like idiots for knowing so little, at least this part will be less awkward, right? Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.
Their English was very rough. Most Italians who say "My English is terrible," speak it practically fluently. Not the case here. And what made it worse was we had already exhausted all of the simple topics. I'm sure they knew how to ask our names, ages, hobbies and such, but we already covered those topics with our limited Italian. For the most part, they just gave up or were too shy to try.
Claudia put in a lot of effort though. She sat across from me and we talked for a good while. She said she doesn't want to become a farmer but rather a park ranger. She'd like to go to more school after she graduates — provided she can afford it — and eventually move to France. She said she likes Italy, but she doesn't like Italians or Italian law. I'm not sure if something was lost in translation there, but it was really the only thing I got out of it. I wish there wasn't the language barrier so I could have asked her to explain more.
After class was over, the students took us outside to their greenhouses and gardens. We talked to the others as we walked out, and it seemed like Caitlin and I got really lucky. Jess and Kate said their group just kept asking how much they drink and if they smoke. Another group didn't talk at all.
As the rest of the high schoolers just started to goof around and yell obnoxiously, Claudia walked with Caitlin and I. She told us about what they do every day. I asked questions in Italian and she answered in English. It was a good way for us to both practice. She was so nice!
Eventually they had to go back to another class, and it was time for us to head back.
Being such a nice day, we agreed to walk back instead of taking the bus. Nicoletta led us through Cascine Park (an area I had tried unsuccessfully to find earlier in the semester). I wish I had brought my camera. I almost did, but ended up leaving it behind.
The park was beautiful. I definitely have to get there again sometime before I leave. The grass was a rich green color. Full trees shaded many of the long paths. We walked along one in the sun that hugged the Arno. People ran along the paths to our left while others reclined in the sun along the banks of the river to the right. It was absolutely beautiful, and the weather was perfect!
The park seemed to go on forever, but we eventually reached the edge. By that time we were all hot and tired, so we agreed to take the bus the rest of the way back.
It dropped us off near Bethany's place around 1 p.m.
Glenn, Kevin, Bethany, Michelle, Yelena and I set out to grab lunch. We wanted to go to Tijuana's (a mexican restaurant) for lunch, but it was closed. Instead I led the group to the Oil Shoppe, a fantastic sandwich shop on our end of town. After a delicious veggie panino, I said ciao and headed back to the apartment.
I watched some Netflix and finished packing for London! With my backpack nearly bursting at the seams, I walked down the stairs and over to Basilica di Santa Croce to catch a taxi to the airport. The law is that a taxi ride within the city can't cost more than €25. It always costs that much to get to the airport or more if your driver is a bastard who shortchanges you significantly.
I had much better luck with this driver. As soon as I got in, he said it'll be €20 at the end. From what I understood it should always be that much to get from the city center to the airport. He was kind an not at all greedy. One point driver. Then much to my surprise he used his blinkers. Point two! And when we neared the airport where there's a short stretch of road with four lanes, he stayed in his instead of weaving back and forth as if for fun. He even checked blindspots. Point three, point four.
I got out at the airport in complete shock. If I had change, I probably would have even tipped him.
After a good half-hour wait in line, I checked in. I chatted at the terminal with a couple of businessmen from London who had been in Florence just for the day for a quick meeting. Soon enough, I was on my way to London to meet the 'rents!

Photos of the Day

No photo for today. I was too busy trying to catch up on this!

9 April 2012  I want to go on the Carousel!

Saturday night we went out for Jessica's birthday. We were looking through pictures from it this evening, and Kate realized we went on a carousel. Incredibly jealous of our circular adventure on fake horses, she proclaimed she wanted to go. I told her I'd go with. We half ran all the way there and played follow the leader on the way back. I swear we're 20 years old!

8 April 2012  Happy Easter!

Florence knows how to do Easter. Fireworks and all. I got to the Duomo an hour and a half before Easter mass started. It took about 20 minutes to find my dad in the crowd. My mom had wedged her way toward the front. I stood on my tip toes under an umbrella with my dad and watched flags twist and spin in the air above the crowd and fireworks burst into the air. By the time the festivities were over and we found my mom again, we figured we wouldn't get to go into mass. But we spent the rest of the day walking around the rainy city.

7 April 2012  Piazza Signoria

Saturday was my first full day in Florence with my parents! We walked all over the city, ducking into museums, churches and restaurants whenever the rain started.

6 April 2012  Cinque Terre

Friday I brought my parents to Cinque Terre. I was so happy they got to see a different part of Italy: the seaside and the countryside!

5 April 2012  Dinner

My parents came back from Venice to an apartment full of groceries and several of my friends. We left them in the living room and cooked them dinner.

My Week in Photos

I have a list of excuses for why I've gotten so behind on this blog, but you deserve none of them.
An intense game of catch-up starts now.

4 April 2012  Red Velvet

Last week in class we were practicing writing recipes in Italian. Caitlin translated a recipe for red velvet cake balls. Nicoletta was completely confused as to how something red could be delicious. This was last Wednesday and a few hours before my parents were getting on a plane to London. I immediately called my mom and told her she must bring two boxes of red velvet cake mix. She obliged and threw in a tub of frosting for a bonus 'cause she's great. We finally made the cake balls last night! Suffice to say Erika and Amy were the two rolling them. Red hands were completely worth it. Nicoletta loved them!

3 April 2012  Duomo

My parents came home from Rome in time to get dinner and walk around the city. I wore them out to make sure they slept soundly before heading to Venice Wednesday morning!

2 April 2012  Just a Monday

With my parents off to Rome for a couple of days, I spent the day preparing for an interview. At 9 p.m. I interviewed for editor of the Stater. I didn't get the position, but I'm OK with that. The new editor is more than qualified and will do a terrific job. I can try again in the spring. For now, I'm applying for managing editor instead. Although I would have liked to be editor in the fall, it's more about helping the Stater progress than a title — and I still have a lot of ideas to contribute from another position.

1 April 2012  Welcome to Italy and April

It was a bittersweet day. Sunday started my last month in Italy, but I got to spend the day introducing my parents to this country. We flew into Pisa early that morning, saw the leaning tower, then took a train to Florence. I lead them around Florence and up to Piazzale Michelangelo, where my mom sat in the same place she did 30 years ago. (Photo to come later)

31 March 2012  Tower Bridge

Day 2 in London was just as perfect, even though the weather wasn't. We saw everything from the London Eye, to Buckingham Palace, to Westminster Abbey, to London Parliament and Big Ben, to the Tower of London and the Tower Bridge.

30 March 2012  Trafalgar Square

My first day in London began here in Trafalgar Square. Not a bad way to start. We spent the rest of the day wandering around and seeing the city from the top of a tour bus. Friday night we went to see The King's Speech

29 March 2012  Hello, 'rents!

My parents came to Europe! I'm so excited for both of them. We spent three nights with my mom's friend, Jay. He went to college with her in Ohio and now lives in London. So there's hope for me to move from the midwest to Europe too!

Photo of the Day

27 March 2012  Florence

Today Caitlin and I went filming for our practicum class. I am still in awe of the number of tourists in town. I swear they've increased tenfold. But I don't blame them. I love this city.

POTD

I can't believe I went Monday-Wednesday without taking a single picture. I was so wrapped up in finalizing everything before spring break, the days just slipped past me.
So I will give you a bonus picture.
Then off to bed so I can rest up a little before my plane ride to Greece! Words can't explain how excited I am right now. I'll make up for this photo-less week over spring break!

15 March 2012  Tourists

They told us time and time again that tourists would start taking over the town. They weren't kidding. I'm starting to feel territorial. I don't like shoving my way through crowds where I used to be able to stroll freely. People were lined up all day to get inside the Cathedral.

BONUS PICTURE
Just your average horse havin' lunch in Piazza della Signoria

Basilica di Santa Croce 30 Years Later

Santa Croce

Photo of the Day

11 March 2012  lazy sunday

Today was my catch up day. After a workout and a long shower, I sat down in the dining room with a pile of notebooks, my laptop and a rather lengthy to-do list. I wasn't exactly in the most productive mood, but I was content to slowly chip away at my list while Italian fresh air and sun streamed in from the open window. It's 11 p.m. and I still have things to do, but I'm OK with that. In line with my theory, a happy, laid back sunday gives way to a good week.

And so I continue with my list. Next is a diversity diary and another 30 Years Later post. 

San Gimignano

After finding out a round trip ticket Verona would have cost over €60 for a train leaving from a station out of walking distance, Erika and Yelena decided to join me for San Gimignano!

We caught the 10:10 a.m. train to Poggibonsi. We had to wait around for about half an hour for the bus to San Gimignano. We walked around for a little bit but didn't find much in the town, so we just waited at the train station.

The bus was grimy. There was gum stuck to the back of every sharpie-decorated seat. The grey windows were plastered with vulgar words and images. I was glad the journey only took about 15 minutes.

We stepped off the bus to a gorgeous view of the countryside.

The first thing we did upon entering San Gimignano was visit the Museo degli Strumenti di Tortura and the Museo Pena di Morte (Museums of instruments of torture and death penalty, respectively). Erika and Yelena are fans of all things dead and creepy. 

That's just a taste of the horrors awaiting us inside the two museums. I stopped documenting as soon as hooks were involved and don't see the point in reliving the atrocities. I'm sure you don't want to read them as much as I don't want to write about them.
But suffice to say it definitely made me question human nature. As much as I want to believe humans are inherently good, what we're capable of doing to each other is ghastly.
We stumbled out of the dead museums and began to wander through the sunny streets.

We walked around for a while trying to erase what we just saw and regain an appetite. Eventually we accomplished both and found a restaurant. By that time I was so hungry I didn't bother taking a picture, but we split bruschetta, a liter of wine and a bottle of water. I got penne with tomato sauce and some sort of spicy cheese. It was very different than what I've had up until this point and also very, very good.
In the absence of my usual tower-climber, Amy, I had to talk Erika and Yelena into paying €5 to climb Torre Grossa, but I won. After a few disdainful murmurs of "Lydia, you and your damned stairs and towers," we started to climb.

Honestly, every tower since St. Peter's Basilica feels so manageable. I arrived at the top far earlier than I expected.
We climbed the last steep ladder to the top. Until this point, I was unaware of Yelena's fear of heights. When she hesitated at the bottom of the ladder with a whimper, I faintly recalled someone mentioning it. Erika and I took pictures of the incredible view as the wind howled. I couldn't believe how windy it was. A gust literally lifted by backpack away from my back.

After a while, we descended the tower — or rather Erika and I walked down the stairs while Yelena practically crawled backwards.

We checked the bus schedule and realized we had plenty of time. We got some gelato, walked some more, then walked over to the park seen to the left of this tower: 

We walked around, took some photos and left as the sun sunk behind the mountain. 

It was a peaceful, quiet, simple, perfect day (ignoring the museums) in a gorgeous town. I can see why Ryan loved it so much.

We left the walls of the city around 6 p.m. 

We had to wait for a bus for half an hour. It deposited us at the train station around 7 p.m., where the train to Florence SMN had been delayed for about an hour. We eventually made it home around 9:15 p.m. Unfortunately it was too late to make it to Kelsey's birthday dinner. But happy birthday to my fellow CCI Florentine nonetheless!