DAY 47: “Illegaliens"

I feel for Grizzly Adams… I now know what it’s like to sleep in a bear den… a lovely cold has been passed around the group (probably because we share everything) and due to congestion, my roommates, who shall remain anonymous, snored so loud, they could’ve awakened the Pope. Even with my noise/people/world cancelling headphones on, the nasal blockage penetrated through… might have to write Bose a letter of complaint. I considered going out for a walk but it was raining… damn. Can you imagine being an insomniac in prison? You would then be passed on to the Loony Bin… After about 3 torturous hours of rolling around on a roll-away, I got ready for the day… we had to catch a bus to get up to the Bourgese gardens (“The Harv” didn’t want to hoof it…) and along comes the Barbie minivan… you know the battery powered kiddy cars that rev up to 5 miles an hour and come to a screeching halt when you take your foot off the gas? We packed all 16 of us in like sardines and puttered up the hill- it was hilarious.

We arrived in Candyland (Galleria de Bourgese)… it is a huge park, north of the city with ancient fountains of old horse busts spraying water out into shallow pools of wishful change… Cyprus trees that kiss the clouds and statues of chivalrous heroes mounted on their patina’d steed… Snack wagons thwarting traffic with roasted peanuts and rainbows of gelato mounds… families chased each other on Segways and roller blades… lovers fondled on vast green lawns… peddlers romancing flutes and violins… dogs played “I’ll-sniff-your-butt-if-you-sniff-mine.” All under 65-degree sunrays… I could’ve wasted the day laying in a garden, watching the clouds race each other. But, there was much Bernini to be seen in the Museo Bourgese and little time to be spent indoors before my UV requirement kicked in.

Greek Mythology makes me sweat with glee… Bernini is a master a la marble and created some of THE BEST sculptures I’ve ever seen- and I’ve seen A LOT. Remember when I stated that, sculpture from now on, will have to slap me conscious to leave an impression? Well Bernini filled a chainmail glove full of rocks and went to town on my mug. My fav: Apollo e Dafne… he depicted how dangerous love is among the God’s. It was, the MOMENT, Apollo captures Daphne- just as he touches her, she turns into a tree. Leaves stemmed from her fingertips and toes while bark wraps up and around her waist to her long curl hair that transforms into branches. They were completely off balance, yet so solid (isn’t every good relationship?). The passion in their faces was heartbreaking… as if they were saying good-bye for the last time. Now he’ll go and sit under this beautifully gnarled tree everyday, lost and defeated by love. I was positively enraptured that stone could tell such a tale.

After my fix of passion for the day, we wandered to a lake on which swans and quackers dodged numbered canoes… again with the tourists… didn’t they know I wanted to enjoy Rome sans the screaming children in floatation devices? Weaving our way back to the center of the city, we enjoyed views of the city below us and sauntered down the Spanish steps; which forced me to contemplate filming here… how on Earth do they dispose of ALL these people?! Especially the “Illegaliens” (you can figure that one out…) that practically force rose stems in your palm and making farting noises when you reject them. I threw my arms up at one man who was shoving them in my face, nearly knocking the bouquet out of his hand… he threatened my family’s life. A majority of us stopped for some grub at L’Enotec Antica, a happenin’ wine bar with the typical Italian cuisine… I mowed some crepes filled with spinach and ricotta under fresh tomato sauce. That hit the spot for the rest of the day as I ventured off on my own- much needed solo time. They closed off Via del Corso (biggest shopping street in the city) and because of the weather, everyone, and their mother and her Bridge Club decided to meander also… I picked up a few art supplies and enjoyed string quartets flanking shop corners and break dancers drawing crowds in church squares. My dogs were HOWLING when I arrived at the hotel, just in time to meet Jeff Conger, our other professor (who will soon have a significant nickname) on this wonderful trip we’re disguising as school. (I’ve learned more in the last 47 days than any college semester taught me- BY FAR.) We joined forces once again and single-filed it over the Tiber to a church that was (surprisingly) in mass. Golden mosaics dwelled high in the altar, simmering down on a full choir who broke into gospel just as we walked in… I stood, literally breathless, as chills ran up my spine. It was the most moving 30 seconds of my life… I never would have thought something like that would touch me so greatly, but the angelic voices that serenaded their humble audience in the vast, candle lit room was incredible.

I tried to top angels in song with walnut and coconut gelato, but to no avail… church wins the gold tonight. After watching The Notebook for the umpteenth time, I hit the hay- earplugs intact. Sunday-Funday in Roma manana! Chow chow ch-ch-ch-chow.

DAY 46: UnCONVENTional

Had the best night of sleep EVER last night… “Abdul” must’ve slipped some opium in my grapefruit sherbet because Dorothy and I frolicked with Toto through the poppy fields of Oz. Took a run along the Tiber River with Katie this morning… light sprinkling of rain, perfect in t-shirts and shorts. The water is a contaminated cess-stream of watered down diarrhea… you would definitely grow some tentacles and extra eyeballs if you fell in… must be where they got the idea for Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. Thankfully I stretched my ligaments out from rolling my ankles in basketball, I can’t hurt them if I tried… I almost fell down three times hurdling over broken sidewalks with tree roots jutting up. Breakfast at the hotel is pretty ehhh… I don’t trust things that come in individual plastic packages, especially bread… so it was yogurt and coffee for me.

There is a very special exhibit of Caravaggio’s greatest works, from museums around the world, all in an old horse barn. Yep, right where the royal mews grazed and neighed… evident by the wide staircases that spiral up for thoroughbreds to trot up to the second floor. This guy died when he was 39 and almost all of his work was painted in a 10-year period… Out.Stand.Ing. His still life’s of food look like photographs… you just want to grab an apple out of the basket and take a big bite. Brow wrinkles and leaf veins, oh baby, oh baby. Because he was young, he enjoyed portraying lively, young people with amazing emotion and animation…  He is synonymous for his “darks”- heavy black background with his figures centralized and lit up from within. My favorite thing about his style is that the light source is never actually known- it is never IN the actual painting. My second favorite thing is that he and Serena Williams would get along like peas and carrots- he KILLED a man during a tennis match! Serena chew’s broads up and spits them out like Bubbleyum everyday, but I can only imagine what some guy did to piss Caravaggio off enough to be murdered over a game of tennis. I’m as competitive as they come, but I don’t think I could beat someone to a pulp with a Wilson… half of Rome decided to show up to see Carvy and pushing through chillin and oldies made me feel like I was playing rugby against blind kids… I don’t want to shove, but they don’t move! And then rounding up the whole group to leave is a treat… “Doesn’t play well with others” should be on my business card. (that’d bring clients in the door) I don’t do well in group settings… from field trips in 4^th grade to Jellystone to field trips 15 years later in Rome- my dominance takes over and I feel like I’m herding cats…

Speaking of cats… seagulls have over run the pigeons and cats have over run the seagulls. I watched a man ride his bike through a square, with a fat, yellow cat on his shoulders… he got off, put down his bike and threw “Puss&Boots” on a leash! He just layed in the sun while paparazzi snapped mug shots… Now that the wolf pack know how much I loath dirty birds- let me clarify: I LOVE dirty birds, when they involve Grey Geese… not Grey Pigeons… they run and stomp pigeons in my direction so they fly directly at my face… evil. I grabbed a piece of mushroom pizza and sat on the Spanish Steps, basking in the sun with 4,500 other people. Word to the wise, if you aren’t in the mood to be around people, DON’T spend the day in the heart of Rome. After walking around to find closed churches (every one we walked to was on “siesta”… God has to eat lunch too…), we decided to bag it and found a wine bar called ‘Gusto. “The Harv” joined 5 of us girls and we talked shop- make-up, fashion, Johnny Depp… all his favorite topics. After some yummy Aglianico Del Taburno, we strolled home in the sun and passed out at the hotel for 3 hours- much needed snooze….

Only to wake up in a Convent. No, I’m wasn’t dreaming… we literally walked down a few blocks to have dinner, (breath in) with NUNS. Apparently you can stay there, eat there, pray there, git yer hair did there… “Harvitron” made reservations in the basement (I really wish I could look inside all of your heads right now and see what kind of picture you are painting of this scenario…) and we feasted on, to start: soup- lentil-ish puree with noodles… surprisingly tasty. Second: fried fish with fried mashed potato tubes (basically mushy tater tots)… not tasty, surprisingly. Third: grilled cheesy fennel and salad… ehhh. Finally: crème puffs and an orange. The nuns were very friendly and attentive- happy to be doing what they were doing… I was having torrential stomach pains from all the dairy I’m stubbornly weaning myself off of. Called it a night, can’t keep up with all these young pups J

Villa Bourgese (huge park, zoo, lake, etc.) tomorrow, supposed to be B-E-A-Utiful! Ciao!

DAY 45: Gargeous, just gargeous

Why is it that Luigi eats 8 times more than I do, and I have to haul his ass around? I have knots in my shoulders the size of tennis balls... waking up to feed your green monster 4 hours after attempting to sleep while turn table tectonics bounce off your skull is so fun, give it a whirl sometime... quiche lorraine for the trip to Rome, on the short bus no less, how fitting for the Artists Guild of Geekdom. The bus driver picked Luigi up, looked at me, farted, and said I was crazy for carrying around a child that eats cake... birth control buddy, birth control. I gave Roo a nice bottle of Syrah from the market I'd been saving, and as I picked him up, he dropped it on the sidewalk. Yes it broke, and I contemplated violence, but that is never the answer, so I pouted and stomped on to the midget space shuttle on wheels. Sad to leave Firenze behind, stoked for Roma... but in the mean time, all I wanted was my Thermarest packable pillow and sound/people/world canceling headphones. The drive really was nice and sunny- tall villas peeked out over cyprus trees along the hillsides, with vineyards greeting visitors along serpentining dirt roads. Trees spread like coffee cake with sage sprigs planted mindlessly yet methodically around stranded castles... not sure why anyone would want to live here...

When in Rome... you get dropped off on the street, watch your life flash before your eyes as car whiz by, snatching eyelashes as you waddle out to retrieve the aerosol can rolling into traffic. They must get points on their license for nailing pedestrians... not penalty points... rewards points. "For every tourist you hit, you'll receive 3 free nights at the Marriot with complimentary breakfast"... once at the hotel (NOT THE MARRIOT), we changed out of our bus clothes that smelled like sewage (anyone that walked onto that bus would get a 1-2 blow to the snot box and drop dead...) and headed to "The Greatest Building on Earth," according to "The Harv." When I questioned why the "Pantheon" was the greatest, he demanded I find something grander... "Alrighty then!" So this entity really is the cat's ass...  the generic term "pantheon" refers to any building that honors the dead. I wonder if the milk crate I stuck over the irrigation ditch honoring the dead gophers and cats I buried as a kid could be considered a Pantheon? It's safe to say that this Pantheon has a little more planning and thought incorporated than my milk crate... Finalized in 118 A.D. in dedication to the Roman gods, it boasts a perfectly symmetrical dome with a central opening (oculus) hovering high above a marble floor. It is still the world's largest unreinforced concrete dome... the mother of all domes.


Following the Pantheon came another church, a grocery store, an apple with Ritz crackers and a leisurely stroll around... t-shirt weather pleases me, greatly. Almost as much as coffees the size of my head... they just like to tease you here... a little sip. Maybe it's a good idea to ween myself off of caffeine for good? Maybe I can voluntarily walk into oncoming traffic?  We all met at 7:30 to eat at a pizzeria that had a line around the corner- not gonna happen with 15 peeps. Sooo, Plan B = the next best, which, of the 50, 000 pizzerias, I'm uncertain what the next best would be... regardless, this place definitely was not the next best, but it was next door. Fulfilling my craving for vegetables was a must, so a salad with mushrooms, beans, tomatoes and olives... could have had worse, but definitely could have had a lot better... following dinner we checked out the ever GARGEOUS (that is gorgeous and gargantuan's love child) "Fountain of Neptune"... extra gargeous at night... lit up like Rockafellar, but with twice as many Japanesers... "The Harv" took us to a special little gelato shack... I've learned not to eat gelato that is spilling over in vats, with bells and whistles screaming at you... places that store the goods in time capsules that slowly raise up out of the counter with the help of dry ice and a martian with a remote control... "Abdul" wouldn't let me sample any... I asked, "How will I know if I like it?" And informed him that sampling was half the fun... He must've backed over his cat this morning, because he looked at me like I was THE stupidest blond in Rome... and there are 2.6 million people here, not counting tourists, so I took that as quite the compliment and ordered Grapefruit sorbet- spectacularly lickable, chunks of fruit, yummers. 


Potential to sleep like a dead person tonight is massive... been burning the candle at both ends and have a big day in Roma tomorra! Ciao!

Day 44: "FOUR"

Last day in Florence...sad story. Had the option to check out the Medici tombs by Michelangelo and I jumped on that like white on rice... 200' high ceilings with amazing stone floor inlays of jasper, quartz, lapis lazuli, alabaster, coral and mother of pearl. Absolutely beautiful tombs with even more intricate semi-precious stone designs. The Medici's were pretty much a big deal to, basically, afford their own indoor cemetery with frescoed ceilings and marble walls. I'll be lucky if my sister rubber cements river rock to a cardboard refrigerator box when I die ... hopefully people won't think my name was "This Side Up." Mikey designed the entire room and although he wasn't able to finish the sculptures that lay atop the tombs, the symbolism is more than prevalent.  Four the synonymous number concerning symbolism, particularly in Greek Mythology... the 4 seasons (Winter, Spring, Summer, Fall) with supporters (Dusk, Dawn, Evening, Day), the 4 temperaments (Sanguine, Phlegmatic, Melancholy, Cruelty), the 4 elements (Earth, Water, Fire, Air) also with supporters (Hot, Warm, Dry, Cold)... Captain Planet would go nuts in this place! This might get confusing so brace yourselves... basically the sculptures represented one of each of the 4 i.e. "Dawn" the virgin sanguinely peers at her reflection in a pool below her... anyway, it was fun to figure out what the statues represented.

We met up with some of the slackers and a chunk of us were privileged enough to get a private tour through Palazzo Vecchio, the Medici's palace. Our tour guide "Elizabeta" rocked our world... I felt like I was in a Dan Brown book, climbing through all of the secret staircases leading to ridiculous studios and treasure chests, hearing about the controversies and mysteries. One was literally the shape of a treasure chest, with paintings mounted on secret doors that lining the walls. Whatever scene was depicted on the door, indicated what lay inside... some contained shelves to hold worldly treasures such as jewels, books, maps, Michelangelo's petrified feces... and others led through narrow hallways and rooms. The paintings provided exquisite Mythological scenes with each wall dedicated to an Element; Water- Venus, Apollo- Fire, etc.  The entire palace was truly unbelievable... the architecture, sculptures, wallpaper frescos, marble floors, wood carved ceilings... it sounds like I'm seeing a lot of the same thing in all of these places, but this most definitely stood out.

Jesse, Becca and I were in the mood for pizza, so we found The Yellow Bar and I ordered my standard veggie pie... and to celebrate our last day, we thought it was a good idea (why I don't know) to each order dessert and share... tiramisu- mediocre at best, chocolate cake- nothing to write home about (even though I am), but the cream filled creme with dark chocolate and berries- Holy Yum. We took turns rolling each other back to the hotel for our final Italian lesson... I had to tape my eyelids open.

After some chill out time, I rallied some troops for dinner at a highly recommended place called 4 Leoni (4 Lions- sticking with the theme of the day, I thought it was fitting.) 11 of us found ourselves in good spirits and totally entertained by "Daniel" our cute waiter that I kept calling Dennis... short term memory loss. I made him sit next to me and go through the whole menu for the group... don't want anyone accidentally ordering cow stomach! He greeted us with a bottle of prosecco and we enjoyed amazing food. We are all sharers... sharing is caring... some of the girls got tortellini stuffed with pears and asparagus, with a white sauce... Ta'Die! I anted up and took a chance with brains. And heart. Cow brains and heart. Won't know 'til you try, right? Pleasantly surprised... the texture was rubbery chicken, cooked in a red wine bouillabaisse-y, extremely rich sauce... kind of tasted like you'd think brains would taste like (whatever that means). "Dennis" brought us a dessert on the house... some sort of cream, chocolaty, cakey goodness... so much dessert today... I never ate dessert before I came to Europe, ha.

On the way back to the hotel, Kate, Becca, Jesse and I turned a corner and heard Phil Collins singing... but it wasn't Phil Collins, it was a guy that sits in front of the Uffizi with his guitar, belting it. We were his only fans for about 5 minutes until hordes of people flocked once we started making making requests and were invited up to be his back up singers... we pooled 10 Euros for his CD... not bad for covering 90's alternative rock. We pre-gamed back at the hotel with "The Harv" and headed to Club 21 to dance the night away... except they weren't open yet, so "Harvinator" (that's a group consensus nickname) took us to a fun pub with artwork all over the walls and pony kegs with pillows on them for seats. We sat around and talked about art. Literally. It refreshing to be able to strike up a conversation about something that interests me and have someone else be just as interested in discussing it (sounds like the perfect man). "Harvinator" said we are the only group that really takes the art outside of the walls... until we get to the discotecca and dance our faces off... It's a good thing I've been classically trained in booty shaking because Jesine and I, the lone rangers, looked at each other at 3 a.m. and decided it was time to go. I hadn't even fed Luigi yet... makes me yawn just thinking about get up early to catch the bus to Roma tomorrow...

I just realized this is Day 44... hmmm, ironic. Wonderful city Florence is... definitely some memorable experiences.... ciao ciao!

DAY 43: Bloody Head

“You can get paid to say NO FOTO?” We’ve been placing bets to see when “The Harv” finally gets kicked out for using his camcorder in museums and churches… “Priscilla” was ready to have him arrested after she told him 3 times “No Foto!” He rebelled against the war in 1972 and 40 years later he’s rebelling against Catholic security guards… and with such a “Oh I’m sorry, I had no idea… I’ve only lived here and visit every year…” bogus innocence. I love it. On our way to the Bargello Museum, he pointed out statues that nonchalantly stand in little nooks in buildings, watching over the bustle below… John the Fairy, Skinny Matt, Marky-Mark, Thomas the Doubter… the whole gang was there, looking like they needed a café as much as I did. I now understand where Disney got their inspiration for “The Little Mermaid & Hercules”… sadly, my mind relates these statues to cartoons, where as a far more educated (or Italian) person would relate the cartoons to the statues. “Mommy, Ariel’s daddy looks like St. John the Baptist!”

At the Gello of the Barg, we compared “Due David” (2 David’s, which I wrote a paper on 5 years ago, so I was STOKED!)…. The little adolescent twerp that beheaded Goliath the giant stands with sword in hand, over the massive head, proud and relieved… the story sounds so glorious and brazen- a young man defeats the undefeatable. But you know that he was crapping his pants because he was barely strong enough to lift his sword… it’s like being charged by an elephant and all you have is a toothpick to defend yourself. Of course the “God I hope this works” face was thrown out the window and Donatello builds a mesmerizing bronze sculpture of a young nude (1^st bronze nude of the time), wearing a mischievous, coy smirk under a hat that creates a mysterious shadow. He erotically stands with one foot on Goliath’s decapitated head, straining every muscle to lift his sword victoriously. I’m surprised “Don” didn’t throw a few beads of sweat on his temple… Upstairs to Verrochio’s giant killer, we observed sims and diffs.  SIDENOTE: I’m afraid to the majority of the population, looking at 2 statues of a couple kids and a head would be lackluster… but again, I won the blue ribbon in the Nerds-R-Us Parade and I could contemplate every muscle, toe and strand of hair for hours. “V’s” David was created AFTER “Don’s,” so he got to sit back and watch the condemnation and praise before he broke out the bronze. He formed a smaller, younger looking boy, who wore “silk armor”- it was metal, but clung to his pecks like silk- he carried a smaller sword and stood over G’s head with pride, but not arrogance. I wonder what kind of grade I got on that paper?

Exercise never makes me hungry. But climbing stairs and exercising my brain leaves me famished… there is a great little wine bar on the street right by our hotel (which we unfortunately discovered 2 days before our departure) that has been around FOREVER called “DueFratellini”- 2 Brothers- they make sandos that are Ta’Die… super simple… one meat, one cheese, some veggies maybe… I rocked a turkey, eggplant, roasted red pepper and zucchini and a glass of vino, all for 4 Euros- SO scrumptious. Across the street was a vintage store called “Angelo” that was calling my name… we played dress up for awhile and the storeowner spoke incredible English, so I asked her where she was from.

Her: “The States… Montana.”

Me: “No F’ing way! Where?”

Her: “Missoula…”

Me: “We are from Bozeman!”

Her: “No Way!”

Me: “Yeah Way!”

Her: “NO WAY!”

Me: “YEAH WAY!”

And so on and so forth. Really isn’t that unreasonable. If we were from Fargo and met a fellow Fargonian in Pakistan, that would be a trip… but we’re not Fargonians. Nor are we anywhere near Pakistan. If I could live in Florence, I would in a heartbeat… we’ve been surrounded by NYU snots that yell into their cell phones and have no idea who Michelangelo, Donatello or Leonardo are, so it was refreshing to chat with a fellow native.

Back on the “school bus” we trekked to Santa Maria Novella, another church… of course amazing, but will only be remembered by the tacky light boxes featuring plastic Mary’s holding baby Jesus who is stringing pearls around her neck surrounded by Christmas decorations… I shit you not, some beautiful frescos and architecture, but these neon garbage cubes belong in a Baptist trailer park café in Alabama. Kate and I spotted an Irish pub across the courtyard outside and “reviewed our notes” over a couple brewskies, later ending up in the ghetto of Florence on our way to the Ponte Vecchio… an hour later we admired jewels and checked out more vintage. I would have been an outcast in the 50’s… everything is so tiny! If I walked into a tailor, they would yell to the seamstress in the back to ready the noose… Kate had to check out our fav. Gelato shop on the corner, and because I’ve gone sans dairy, I enjoyed a strawberry sherbet… nearly as satisfying. Dinner consisted of crackers, peanut butter and grapes again… really exciting.

2 things: I don’t know how those skinny little pigeon feet hold up such weight… AND I LOVE clean clothes… I forgot how much I love to do laundry (not sure I ever LOVED it, but I do now)… Last day in Firenze tomorrow L I love it here, despite the rain… I may consider future employment in the surrounding area… ciao ciao!

DAY 42: Bells & Balls

You would think waking up to church bells is romantic… well it’s not. It’s infuriating. Especially when they start at quarter ‘til, on the hour, quarter after, etc… And in case you were wondering, the remodel next door is making excellent progress… it sounds like Transformers are battling right outside my window.  Aggravation won, and I pried myself out of bed and into the shower, which is the best way to wake up since the entire hotel shares ONE hot water heater. I can count the number of hot showers I’ve had on one finger… While standing downstairs on the street, waiting for “The Harv” to get his cappuccino, we watched the gypsies come out of the woodwork… one woman walked around in Nikes, with a magazine cutout of 2 kids, pretending they were her own… “My starving children! Please save my starving children!!!” Honey, if your chillin are baby GAP models, ain’t anybody starving. The Umblella,umblella,umblella,umblella,umblella guys are a party in the rain… I want to buy one so I can beat them away with it. There really aren’t that many beggars, but the “leather mafia” rape you with their Romanian-Italian eyeballs and ssssnake-like, breathy comments. One guy practically drug me to his “shop” around the corner and down a dark alley, with a police car parked outside… “Oh! Yes please! I’d love to try on a gangbang for size...”

The wolf pack roamed across the street to the Museo di Duomo to check out some rocks… errr, carved rock, called statues, of important people, by important people, for important people. Many had been removed from the Duomo and were replaced by replicas… p.s. There is a big debate over which Duomo is better, Siena or Florence. I think Siena blows Florence out of the water, but I like pretty things. Florence’s “outside” is gloriously fancy, but the inside is a snooze.  I DO have to say, that when I walk around, and see the Duomo “down the street,” I have to pinch myself… it doesn’t even seem real, it is so big and superlative.  But I’m no art critic! Statues really have to have something “goin’ on” to catch my attention. Grown men in robes with beards and Birkenstocks flirt with my attention span… I like wrestling and animals and muscles… I wonder what my astrologist (and/or therapist) would have to say about that?

The stone-faced lurkers were making me hungry and our favorite kabobs were beckoning us… beef this time, extra spicy and they put French fries in it- gross! As I picked it apart, I threw the fries out into the street for the devil birds… they were on those like hyenas on a water buffalo.  It was my own fault really, because just like Lays potato chips, you can’t have just one… I think they have mating calls and chow calls (similar to men), because a flock of exhaust ridden, dirt pillows came plummeting down. My personal space was being invaded, so I LITERALLY punted a bird across the street… top of foot to bird-belly and POOF! Feathers. Everywhere. As they all cowered on opposing windowsills, cooking up a plan of attack, I decided to scoot before I got my ass Pearl Harbored.

With a few hours to kill, I hit up the food market as it was closing… spilled a carton of pine nuts into a box of figs… “Francis” was real happy with me… but I bought grapes, pears, apples and bananas from her… she got over it. Back at the hotel waited irregular verbs and congigations up the ying-yang… Italian in the afternoon sounds like a lullaby. Immediately following “Let’s-Talk-Romance-101,” we scooted over to the Palazzo Medici to check out the digs of the rich and famous circa 15^th century Renaissance… on the way a Rotweiller puppy and a blackn’tan weiner dog met, played and flirted- they were the exact same size and color and it was hilarious. Dogs in general make me a happy camper, and I love how much Italians adore their pooches. INTERMISSION: So… Granduca Cosimo de’Medici, a loan shark who looks like Joe Pesci, started a family fortune for the kiddies “Ferdinando, Lenny and Squiggy.” The families “symbol” somehow became a “ball,” so there were “balls” everywhere you looked… even naked chicks in frescos had four boobs.  This place would take up an entire episode of MTV’s “Cribs”…

Apparently the BEST gelato is from GROM- a company started by two buddies (now multi-millionaires), using fresh, organic produce daily… they’ve even gone as far as purchasing their own dairy cows to get fresh milk everyday… hazelnut and pistachio for me… definitely good, but our little diamond on the corner is still my fav… Dirty laundry is no longer an option. I have yet to physically place my clothes inside of a washing machine and press start (42 days later… barf.) Kate and I trucked around to find an ATM and Washn’Dry… her debit card wouldn’t work, so I had 15 Euros to buy 3 loads of laundry (3.50 a pop) and a bottle of wine… for our last load, I had a bunch of 1 and 2 cent coins, so I exchanged them at a pizzeria across the street. One 5 cent coin in… and 2 tokens pop out! Another 5 cent coin… 2 more tokens! 5 cent coin… THREE tokens! 75 cents later, I had 80 Euros worth of tokens… EIGHTY EUROS! We hit the laundry lottery!  I was handing tokens out to kids from New Jersey like they were lollipops at the bank drive-thru… Everyone in the wolf pack did laundry, on me… I considered sitting outside the laundry mat, prostituting tokens, gypsy style…

Best current discovery: breadless PB&J… grapes dipped in peanut butter. You are totally going to try it… 2 more days in the frenzy of Firenze! Ciaociaociaoumblellaumblellaumblella.

DAY 41: Flea bitten

Sorry for the delay, no Internet today...

Alarm, alarm, alarm on a Sunday, on a Sunday, on a Sunday… I stayed home last night while everyone else got their dance/drink on until 4 a.m., and I still couldn’t get out of bed. Onto the train for an hour and a half to Lucca, where surprisingly, had signs of life… I miss Sunday Fundays in the States… sleep in, big breaky/brunch rendezvous with friends and skiing, hiking, climbing, movies… back to bed… whatever. But humongo coffees and lots of eggs are involved, and I love it. I suppose cheap station cappuccinos, massive churches (with mass in sess.) and flea markets suffice for the day… the sun was shining in beautiful Lucca and because mass was in sess., we were unable to checkitout, so a’ marketing we went.  I was in hog heaven, but needed to hit the trough before sensory overload kicked in… grabbed a quick tuna, tomato and bean salad and hit the wall. Not in deprivation- we literally climbed the wall that surrounds the city and provides, not only spectacular views of surrounding mountains and castles, but also a pleasant walking/running/biking path lined by trees and parks. It was refreshing to be surrounded by green grass and trees- something that’s been lacking in previous cities, especially those with canals for streets.  Slowly meandering to and fro, snapping pictures and breathing in fresh air felt more and more like a Sunday afternoon in Montana. I’m not homesick in the least bit, but reminders of what I appreciate about home makes me feel good.

I broke away from the pack and ran (not really) down to the market. I don’t know what it is about old shit that makes me feel like a little kid on Christmas Eve, but I LOVE IT. Boxes of chandelier crystals, silverware, candelabras, leather chairs, vintage trench coats, 17^th century lithographs, antique jewelry, hand painted china, fox tail scarves, and did I mention antique jewelry? Picking up etchings of letters from old manuscripts with beautiful typography got my heart rate up… I know that qualifies me for the Dorkus Olympiad, but studying the precision and integrity that one man had in creating hundreds of pages so unique and fine, (almost) brought a tear to my eye. And that was his job! “Today’s assignment, young scribe, is to draw and write… have at it.” My, my, how times have changed… for better or worse is debatable, since I am using technologies they never dreamed possible back then, to create the same effects and ideas… “Progress” is the common denominator.  I enjoyed some time to myself, especially since no one in the group, or perhaps the world likes to mull over tables scattered with fabulous junk as meticulously as I...

Back on the train to nod off, until “Clifford the Wack Job” tried to steal Jesine’s IPod while she was sleeping… thank God Becca was awake and nudged her out of Never-Never Land to ask him what the hell he was doing. He stood over her, holding it (the IPod) in one hand, motioning for her to hand over her head phones with the other… 5 short seconds later, the wolf pack surrounded him, except for me because visions of my future abode full of leather couches and chandeliers danced in my head… Devon finally grabbed it from him and pushed him away. It was probably a good thing that I was asleep, since I handle confrontation like a silverback.

The long mellow day left us in a conscious coma… peanut butter and crackers was all I could muster for dinner… Sweat pants: check. Movie (The Time Traveler’s Wife): check. In bed with the windows open listening to the rain: check. Sundays in Italy may compete in the popularity contest after all… how COULD I possible complain? Big day back in Florence tomorrow… only 3 more days before I can say “When in Rome” in a literal sense… ciao ciao!

DAY 40: Flied Lice

Forty days and forty nights… wow. So much has happened- 10 major cities, 10 not so major/mistake cities, 4 countries, liters of wine, gallons of cappuccinos, some of the best food I’ve ever tasted and by far, the most breathtaking art and architecture I’ve ever experienced. Europe has done me well, and I still have 3.5 months left! I have definitely established the “Perfect Packing List”… and it doesn’t include 70% of what I brought… rats. The last pair of rubber rain boots I owned had yellow ducks on them, in a size 5. I’d give anything to have those back, 5 sizes bigger… my feet are cold and soaking wet everyday. And the cute cheetah print umbrella I bought in the Paris metro looks like a cheetah mauled it- P.O.S. I don’t even think it’s waterproof. There are many other things I want to just throw away because I’m not wearing them/they are just keeping Luigi fat. Main complaint is lack-o-rain gear… I’m sure I’ll change my tune in a month or 2 when I’d rather eat my sweaters than put them on…

Day trip to Siena today took a bus FULL of other people... I’m not usually a big fan of other people. Especially when I don’t know them and their bathing habits. Quaint little Tuscan hill-town about an hour away from Florence… we found ourselves in the shell-shaped town square, Piazza del Campo where the “Palio” is held twice a year- a traditional medieval horse race that draws over 75,000 spectators… they haul in dirt, cushion the storefronts and pack people into the center like sardines as horse and riders dangerously race around the small ”track.” Across the brickyard sits The Palazzo Pubblico, a beautifully constructed building housing an art museum featuring impressive frescos by Ambrogio Lorenzetti portraying the results of good and bad government. A friendly little man in sweatpants, plaid sport coat and sneakers named “Gordon” befriended us and provided the G! Hollywood Story: Simone Martini and the scandal, controversies, secrets and cocktail jokes. He had caterpillars for eyebrows… what a character. We walked through an exhibit by Ali Hausson- portraits and scenes of everyday life from Eastern Europe and Africa… he painted works by Picasso and Leonardo in neutral colors acting as a background, with bright, exuberant faces in the foreground. It’s all in the eyes, hands and feet- if you can master a heel and eyelashes, you have a special place in my heart.

Following our history lesson, we tried a Siena delicacy that gives “fried rice” a whole new meaning… white rice, water, sugar and orange zest, rolled into balls, fried and sprinkled with sugar… pretty good, interesting consistency. Fair food- like fried Oreos, funnel cake, turkey legs, cotton candy… disgustingly disgusting. Might as well duct tape Crisco to your thighs and sit in front of the TV with an IV of Dr. Pepper while dipping Cheetos in mayonnaise. Following a brief group gorgy, we hiked over to the Duomo (completed in 1380) which, like Florence’s Duomo, makes you pinch yourself to wake up and realize what is ACTUALLY before you. The magnificence, precision, thought, time, planning and skill that goes in to making the Romanesque front door, let alone the whole shebang blows me away. The best part of my day occurred at approximately 12:34 p.m. when I walked into inside and saw zebra pillars. This place is the best inspiration for a children’s book… black and white Cheshire cat striped columns hold up gelato flavored, fresco-smeared walls leading up to a domed ceiling. But not just any ceiling… midnight blue panels centered by bright gold stars lead up to angels sitting on the lip of a rotund window inviting you up to play. The marble floors are a zoo- mosaics of mythological creatures and furry astronomy signs pattern below you. A separate room holds illuminated manuscripts with ink detailing that could only be done with the sharpest feather and the steadiest hand. All I could think about was how at night, statues carefully stepped off their pedestals, mermen wriggled off their pages and angels would stretch out of frescos and let their hair down… they would pull chairs around the pulpit using drapes as a makeshift tablecloth covered by candles, Chianti and fresh pizza pies. And the grand organ would provide background music for dancing merriment… instead of “Night at the Museum” it would be “Night at the Duomo.” Imagination is a powerful tool…

A slice of veggie lasagna for lunch and walking up and down the quite streets filled my lazy afternoon before our bus back to Florence. Rain put a damper on things by the end of the day, so sweatpants were the only excitement my evening offered. And celery with peanut butter, which never tastes the same as good ol’ American Jif… they just don’t get it. Although Nutella is a semi-substantial substitute (lacking nutrients…) Another day trip to Lucca tomorrow- busy weekend! Ciao ciao ciao!

DAY 39: Lions and Tigers and Bears...

Nine-foot hoops make me feel good about myself. I got up early and went on a long run, in the warm rain along the Arno and as I crossed over and up to Michelangelo's Gardens, I came across staggered tennis courts that intrigued me. I zigzagged up stairs to find a track with a basketball court in the middle! I got a warm, buttery feeling inside... usually I get an upchuck reflex when I'm on a track or basketball court after 6 years of college/pro conditioning hell, but it made me feel at home for some reason. I grabbed a ball and shot some hoops in the rain while "Lloyd and Frank" watched me swish 3 pointers... like I said, it was a 9-foot hoop (vs. 10'), so I looked like Lisa Leslie to them. Genetics are a blast when you are blessed with a small bladder- I am renowned for having to pee halfway through a run… I asked “Marg,” a tubby little woman under the stairs, “tapping” a punching bag, where the toilets were. Zero English and a lot of doe-eyes and fierce pointing later, I ran off, confused and on a mission, UNTIL…campgrounds! Why didn’t I think of that? Actually, why would I think of that? Down to a locked gate and back up to another locked gate and over to a locked gate and finally over to an open gate were the restrooms that NO ONE has cleaned since last summer stood. I love Montana for the fact that you can pop a squat just about anywhere… Italy, not so much. Unless it’s 4 a.m. in Venice during Carnivale and the corner scaffolding resembles a loo…

“The Harv” had 3 surprises for us today… first stop: Santa Felicita where, according to him, “the best painting ever to be painted” lived… a glorious Mannerism (meaning, the more puzzling and nonsensical, the better) of Mary saying good-bye to her son as prophets carry him away. I loved it strictly for Pontormo E. Rosso’s use of electric pinks and blues- unfathomable palette displays for that time. With tearful expressions of men floating like clouds, carrying the weight of their hero's demise, Rosso’s unruly asymmetry manages to balance on one man’s big toe… quite moving.

Surprise #2 was the Santo Spirito Church, held up by huge grey pillars with intimate windows allowing just enough sunshine in to create a warm ambiance… light and airy unlike many Gothic churches. In front of the church was a great little market with antique brass hardware tents, fromage, fruit, veggies and homemade organic wine (no sulfites) that we had to try… 1.5 liters for 7 Euros! And the final surprise for the day was the Science Museum with every animal that has ever breathed in air on this planet, stuffed and shoved into an ancient glass cage. Made me sad seeing a bunch of dead animals, peering out at me through their glass eyes… except for the wicked spider monkey with devil fangs- he can stay in there. Hungry hippo needed some Vaseline Intensive Care- dry, cracked skin… he’s seen better days. There were several rooms full of wax anatomy diagrams of goats, cats, chickens, humans… I started to get a weak stomach, so I stuck with the animals that had cotton balls for organs. My favorites were the bootiful buttaflies and beetles, iridescent hummingbirds and peacocks (of course, I’m obsessed with them), and the platypus (so funny and cute). I started having convulsions upon entering the snake room, covered my eyes and blindly RAN through (they should catch every slithering sucker and throw them all into a big bonfire… after Jimmy Choo makes me snake skin ballet flats in every color…). I was very touched and inspired by Mother Nature’s artistic children… some of the bird’s nests were amazing- precise knots made out of specific grass or string displaying color patterns and intricacy that only a little beak could perfect. I love seeing works of art done by animals because they are simply building a home or teaching their children, without realizing that what they’re doing is beautiful and moving.

A few of us walked to “Koma Sushi Bar” for lunch and warmed up with miso and our choice of rolls from the conveyer belt on the bar. Cool space with a bulbous gold ceiling, purple lights and Frank Sinatra playing in the background… I appreciate the diversion of cultures I’ve experienced so far. Italian lessons followed our MSG and mercury intake that made us all zombies- brain overload! Motivation is trying when rain pours down, but a few of us managed to wander through the leather market, grab some groceries (peanut butter, celery and carrots for me) and finally, what we were craving all day: a kabob from Istanbul. Warm tortilla with lettuce, tomatoes, cilantro onions, hot sauce, taziki and shaved chicken… Holy yum- huge wrap for 5 Euros. I heart tasty cheap food. Though it was a Friday night, we hung out at the hotel, with our sketchbooks, music and wine and drew the night away…

Day trip to Sienna tomorrow… I hope everyone is watching the Olympics for me! Ciao!

DAY 38: Motha' Supa'

After 3 hours of sleep, you could say I was a real live wire this morning… Jesine and Becca were dragging ass as well, all the way to the Academia. Being “alta” (tall… see, I learned something in Italian class) leaves very few men to chose from, and that’s before they open they’re mouth, which REALLY narrows things down. SIDENOTE: I love it when people say “I know this really tall guy, you two would be perfect together!” I get so insulted they think that’s all us Jolly Green Giants care about… it doesn’t matter if he has a job, a car, a brain, both feet or a fabulous sense of humor- I’m tall, and he’s tall, so we should get married and have tall boring babies… WTF people? Slight segway, BUT I found someone that is TOO tall. Never thought I’d see the day, but… he likes to stand around in the buff, which is fine because he has a killer body, doesn’t talk much and isn’t super active but I could probably get him out on the town. His name is David and his right foot is the length of my entire arm. He could hold me like a ragdoll in his left hand and literally towers me, thrice over. Michelangelo didn’t really keep me in mind when he created this guy, but I forgive him since he is the Italian Sculpture God… this “Big White Guy” looks towards Rome with a furrowed, determined brow and because Italians are known to talk with their hands, his are emphasized (so what’s their excuse for genitalia???). Quite a phenomenon that he is able to stand freely, with only the support of a tree trunk behind his left foot- really a beautiful work of art.

Onto Museo di San Marco to check out some Angelico frescos, which I thought were by Frangelico, but I think Dance-Off 2010 was still saturating… I laughed when I saw “Saint Benihanna” doning a double beard and a catfish whisker moustache next to baby Jesus who was saluting Hitler… Ghirlandiaos “Last Supper” was amusing as well- everyone looks totally unamused and pissed off at John the “Fairy” Evangelist who must’ve thrown back one too many during cocktail hour. He is a total fem-bot- a waif with long hair and tiny hands… no wonder he keeps passing out in Jesus’ lap. Some dudes were even rolling their eyes and knocking over their Dixie wine cups, looks like a bread and grape fight will break out soon.

Two “Last Supper’s” in one day was making me hungry… Andrea Del Castagno’s was controversially housed in a convent in Sant Appollonia. Of course impressive, but I get a kick out of body language and expression. John the “pixie-lush” has his head in Jesus’ lap again, and even Jesus is over his debauchery… Peter is filing his nails while Jacob and Matthew play cards and Jerome is flabbergasted that there’s no food on the table, which looks like it’s inside a subway car. Enough starving men in robes for one day… a few of us found Ristorante Cinese and felt weird as Americans eating Chinese in Italy- what’s wrong with this picture? Steamed shrimp wontons, egg drop soup and veggie soai noodles filled me up, only to be topped off by gelato from our favorite little shop up the street from our hotel, that makes it fresh daily and claims to be the best in Florence. Almond and pistachio may have just beat out macaroons, and that is BIG. We each got a cone and no words came out for the next 10 minutes… and there are no words to explain its deliciousness when it hits your lips. I hope you’re drooling right now because I am just writing this…

After a much needed nap, some sketchbook work and research, a group of us followed “The Leader” to a small, hole in the wall place that serves cheap Tuscan food… Verdura Salta (cooked spinach) and Osso Bucco (lamb shank) was the perfect pair- simple, great flavors and a great atmosphere. The owner walked around with legs on meat hooks, after the chef cut off huge pieces  while his souse chefs made flirty eyes at me through the shelves in the open kitchen. Early to bed, need to catch up a bit… the heater doesn’t turn off in our room, so we sleep with our two large windows wide open. Drifting off to sleep with the sound of rain is so tranquil… ah Florence….

Surprise day tomorrow, stay tuned to see what’s in store J Ciao ciao ciao!

DAY 37: Soccer Mom Disco

Lovely morning run along the Arno river with Katie this morning, very humid- shorts and a t-shirt sufficed. El groupo moseyed to the meat cellar formerly known as Santa Croce Church- huge space you could have batting practice in there. I’m certain that back in the day, community service/punishment involved having to white wash the walls… what a chore that must’ve been. There was a ton of scaffolding and construction going on AND “Marshall” was tuning the pipe organ- “Wanna here the most annoying sound in the world?” Really hard to get into “art mode” today with all the sounds and distractions and the fact that the sun was shining outside while we were freezing our asses off inside. Mary Mary Quite Contrary is getting a little tiresome… gold, Gothic frames, frame her in all her glory, with the Bambino sporting a man-dress on her lap and looks like he just finished smoking a cigarette with his fingers nonchalantly giving a peace sign. Angels with rainbow wings kneel at her feet, like sorbet fairies craning their necks to check this kid out.

Leftover quiche, salami and crackers for lunch before our first Italian language class… a.k.a. flashback to Freshman year of high school where little if any English was spoken. “Sophia” asked us questions as we dumbfounded, stammer back non-words, butchering pronunciations. An hour and a half of blank stares later, we learned some simple conversation pieces such as “Oh my God I love your boots! Where can I get some?” and “What is the scientific rule of thumb concerning limestone decay?” You know, the basics. Walked around to some shops by myself after a cat nap and met up with some groupies at “The Sizzler…” salad, wings and beer tied us over before we got dance fever and went on a mission in the rain to find Club 21… over the river and through statue gardens to disco pumping we go. An hour of much confusion later, we realize it was around the corner from our hotel, waltz in while Harry Potter checks our coats and initiate Dance Off, Pants Off 2010 (can you believe that is a real show?). Tons of people got down to “Hits from the 90’s” such as Will Smith, and as groupies were dropping like flies, Jesine, Becca and I managed to turn it up with our Nigerian back-up dancers. Around 3:30 a.m. we were drenched in sweat, had no moves left and trudged back to the hotel. On the brief walk back, I looked down at my outfit and realized why no one wanted to dance with me: I was wearing sneakers, a shirt-dress and a baseball cap. I looked like a soccer mom picking her kids up from the disco. Shows how much my care for appearance has flown out the window… I wouldn’t dance with me either.

Pretty chill day here in Firenze- food nor art really struck my fancy, which is weird. And rare. More blue and gold pissed off Mary tomorrow!

DAY 36: HAIRY MOLE

I don’t know how Mary did it… being the mother of a savior is hard work. Dark circles and crows feet are prevalent… too bad Estee Lauder wasn’t around back then. You can tell she’s an “Unplanned Pregnancy Mom”… pissed off, never smiles, throws on whatever’s on the floor and has painters in her face all the time. The daily tease from saints and prophets must have been painstaking… “look but don’t touch”… it’s like walking into an Italian disco and realizing all the gorgeous men are gay. I think Paul was trying to home wreck on Joseph… the “Days of our Lives” circa B.C... Little did we know that the paparrazi have been around for centuries… Jesus was like a Brangelina baby- people just couldn’t get enough of him- when Mary is the real hero, giving birth unwillingly to a media brat… tough luck, but it made her famous! What people will do do to get their mug in the media... (Yes, I realize I have a beer waiting for me in hell…)

Uffizi, Uffizi! Mawvelous work, simply mawvelous. Strokes so fine, light shines through feathers, perfectly straight cross-hatching on ribbon, gold details are finely stamped into the wood canvas portraying horse bridles, halos and even monkey collars. Some artists were so enthralled in the detail of jewelry and fabric, that they’d forget to paint fingernails! I felt as faint as fat baker being corseted when I turned the corner to stand face to face with Botticelli’s “Madonna on a Half Shell” (The Birth of Venus)… the Goddess of Love stands enraptured by the sight of us all, gawking at her promiscuously nude figure. She made me want to get hair extentions… on the opposite wall stood the Three Graces with Miss Venus herself and Flora in "Prima Vera" (Spring). Botticelli really knows how to have fun with color- he and Isaac Mizrahi would style out a whimsically fabulous penthouse. Unfortunately my interior design dreams were instantly shattered when a Japanese man and his mole with (I shit you not)  THREE INCH LONG GREY HAIR sprouting out from his chin, OVER his collar. Gag reflex was tested, kept the gelato down, but it was a close call.  Anyone who knows me well, understands my disgust, allergic reaction, phobia of hair in general, attached, detached, whatever… if he doesn’t have family members that love him enough to tell him to REMOVE that sucker, I’ll volunteer, gas mask and all. The world can do without hypocrites and hairy moles.

Following Baby Jesus, baby Jesus, Madonna, Peter, Mags, Paul, Matty, Jerome, Leo, Michael, Guy Richie, and my presentation of “Madonna with the Long Neck” (which I could never say without thinking “Long Duck Dong” from Pretty in Pink…) totally aced it… only because I have taken this class before, back in 2003 (obv. not in Italy)… Celine where are you? (“It’s all coming back, it’s all coming back to me now”). Other classmates were STRESSING out about presenting their paintings… it took me 7 years of college to realize that stress, does nothing, and procrastination is key- I work best under pressure anyway…

“The Harv” is totally in his element… he lived in Florence for a year, so it’s as if we’ve awakened The Beast of Art’s Past- good thing I’m a sponge and suck up information like it’s my job. (Ha.)  The San Lorenzo market  closes at 2 pm, and I waltzed in at 2:05 like I owned the place… being an inobstrucable blond has it’s advantages… pointing to brie cheese, “What’s that???” Professional fromagers look at me like I’m an idiot, saying “Really, you don’t know Brie?” as if he's up there on a pedestal with Dante. Of COURSE I know Brie, as he hands me a huge sample, on baguette, with parma ham. I know what I’m doing people, free lunch parade through the closing counters at the food market, duh. Loraine quiche is heaven, by the way… dried apricots, almonds, swiss, salami, bananas and an AVOCADO!!! (first one I’ve found in Italy) The Ponto Vecchio (bridge) is TA’ DIE… jewelry shop after jewelry shop after jewelry shop… did I die yesterday and come back to this metal-gemlicious paradise for all my good-doing? A shop owner came outside and handed me a hankerchief to remove the drool from my chin…

I’m confident I’ve developed an intolerance for lactose. And gluten. My intestines HATE me right now… gonna try to cut out cheese, milk, yogurt, gelato, pizza, rolls, paninos, cereal…. Great diet. Good Luck… Florence rocks my world… ciao ciao ciao!

DAY 35: On Top

Breakfast buffets are thebomb.com… yogurt, cereal and fruit… cappuccino maker… rolls, ham and cheese… ate breakfast, enjoyed 3 cappuccinos (equivalent to one American sized coffee) and made my lunch. We had a long morning on trains since we took the longest route possible to Florence- 3 transfers later, we arrived in the sunny haven of creativity. Upon arrival, “The Harv” HAD to get his cappuccino, so we all stood with Luigi and his tribe piggybacking, awaiting the “2 mile” trek to our hotel. On a side note, I can’t believe outdoor companies make bags as big as mine and expect normal people to haul them around. Luigi weighs more than a normal person… I should write Arcteryx a thank you note for finding the most durable zippers and clips made. So… I quoted 2 miles, because according to “The Harv,” our hotel was a longgggg walk from the station, about “2 miles”… 5 blocks and 10 minutes later, we have the Duomo to our left and Hotel Maxim on our right. After 7 flights of stairs, we collapse into our rooms and change out of sweaty clothes. Montanans are naturally acclimated to cold weather, so when we all rolled out in shorts and t-shirts, the locals in their fur and down looked at us with crazy eyes. To aid in cooling off, Kate and I HAD to get gelato- cocco again of course, because I have an addiction to anything coconut- lotion, Thai food, bras... Onward and upward to the Piazzale Michelangelo (Garden of Michelangelo sculptures) and San Miniato al Monte (Church on top of the Mountain)- basically across the Arno River to the top of the city (2,649 stairs later). If I can give one piece of advice to anyone travelling, even if you only have ONE day, FIND YOURSELF ON TOP of the city (literally and figuratively), in the late afternoon. The view, journey, air and light are so romantic and ethereal- glancing over the Medici Estate, Ponte d’Elecio Bridge and Cyprus trees kissing the setting sun, I wondered how I could ever leave? It’s no wonder Leonardo and Giotto are so famous- they had heavenly landscapes at the tip of their brushes.  Benedictine monks swept the premises in white robes, preparing for their daily 5:30 p.m. Gregorian chants. I feel like I’m in another world… close to perfection- more sunshine, less Japanese tourists and I’d be set.

My ACL’s strength was tested on the steps down towards town- the exhaustion that takes over simply from traveling i.e. sitting down, standing up, lifting, going down stairs, going up stairs, semi-comatose-zombie-like-mind-meld really gets to you after awhile. By the time we got down to the river, I felt like a Looney Tune getting slapped in the face by Bugs Bunny’s metal glove. A quick timeout at Zoe’s for a refresher supplied energy enough to continue on… until Jesine ran out of the American Steak House “Sizzler,” waving us down claiming it was the coolest place ever! We were welcomed by Francesco, the British bar owner that loved hauling tons of sand in for Beach Parties and Karaoke… and he served burgers. I know what a good burger tastes like, I surely won’t find it in Florence, Italy… I opted for a chicken fajita and we all shared a tank-o-Italian-beer with a lit firework on top (seriously). The shit was shot for nearly 2 hours, and we discovered our way toward our home for the next 10 days… only after a few groupies HAD to get gelato. I'm required to give a presentation of “Madonna with the Long Neck” at the Uffizi tomorrow, so I figured I should do a little homework while I’m here… it's funny that going to churches and museums are considered school... I have an A+ in life for sure.

Travel days result in short stories… unless you forget something or get on the wrong train… if blogs start to get stale, I may jump on random trains just to get thrown off, put in jail or end up in who knows where- for the sake of the story… and sanity of my fans. I think the best way I could have prepared for this trip, besides re-thinking my completely inappropriate clothing choices, was to read the Bible. I feel like I’m in Sunday School again… if only I had paid attention 20 years ago… I’d know everything! I have to say the great thing about going back to school is that I don’t take it for granted or worry about memorization and volume as much as I appreciate what I'm wrapping my brain around, voluntarily… I know what I’m looking at and enjoy deducing and appreciating the history behind it. There are NO stupid questions, it is the best way to feed your curiousity.  We may get old, but knowledge never ages.  Though it may take age to realize that fact J

This is all I’ve dreamt and more… best decision I’ve made in 26 years. Ciao from Firenze!

DAY 34: Ebony & Ivory

After yesterday’s No Child Left Behind episode, our American posse toured the sights of Ravenna in the chilled, misty air. And it only took 4 hours… the San Vitale houses some of the most impressive mosaics in Europe. Small glass tiles no bigger than a lima bean illustrated the vast ceilings, naives and balconies surrounding the altar in a rainbow of colors. So far, I am more impressed by mosaics than frescos because from afar, they look like paintings, but once you walk closer, you realize the amazing highlights, shadows and landscapes are “Chiclets-by-numbers,” and can’t help but be blown away. Imagine lying on rickety scaffolding 70 feet off the ground, trying to not only glue tiny tiles upside down, but achieve symmetry and balance at the same time. My donkeys and lambs would look like a Kindergartner’s rendition of sea creatures. To achieve expressions and gestures all while telling a story is a TRUE art form. I almost had to lay down due to over-awe-ness… so I did lay down, on a church bench, and drifted into another time for a few tranquil moments. Next door the Mausoleo Di Galla Placida was a smaller entity who’s interior was entirely made up of mosaics featuring Flora, Fauna and peace doves dive-bombing into holy water. Although little light was allowed, the gold tiles illuminated the space enchantingly (clear tile+gold leaf+another clear tile, pressed together). Rosy cheeks and sad eyes stare down at you silently as if they’ve been locked away for centuries… blue and green filigree framed arches surround a baptismal pool transformed into a coin-filled wishing well.

The second half of our morning included the Battistero degli Ardni, Sant Apollinare Nuovo (churches) and an Archeological Museum who’s name escapes me, but along with the two prior, mean absolutely nothing to you or I. The museum stood out to me most as it contained ancient writing tablets, seals and architecture facades… as advanced and intelligent as we deem ourselves today, the abilities and ideas people had hundreds of years ago- without ANY sort of technology, viable transportation or arguable vocabulary- is remarkable. Inventing alphabets that enable communication, ability to tell time and governmental rule is definitely overlooked by the masses. I loved seeing chunks of stone with names and symbols carefully etched… perhaps in the spirit of Saint Valentine, I imagined the process of writing a love letter. Cave men pounded their chest to show affection; Roman’s were thrown into a lion’s den to prove their strength and ability, so the notion of delivering a 400-pound rock that says “I Love You” to a neighboring village really meant something. And it takes a few minutes to find the right mineral consistency and remove it from the side of a mountain, so they probably started rock hunting in November… and if it cracked around New Year’s they were totally getting dumped… Another lasting impression was the Easter calendar- the rarest, most significant in the world, it determined which day to celebrate Easter Sunday, all depending on phases of the moon. I can hardly figure out a train map let alone create a calendar for the future existence of humanity. My final How’s They Do That? moment was the ivory throne of Archbishop Maximian- originally ebony with 27 panels of intricately carved ivory biblical scenes decorating all surfaces except the flush seat. In short: Wedgewood’s wet dream.

A few groupies piled into “Al Passatore Pizzeria” for lunch… caprese (EVOO, mozzarella, tomatoes and basil) pie for this girl. Nothing mind-blowing but I didn’t throw it away. A few of us girls lounged and gabbed with a little vino rosso and as a communal Burt’s Bee chap stick was passed around, Jesse proclaimed, in sync with our current conversation piece, “Burt’s definitely a player… look at all these lips he’s been on!” Perhaps you had to be there, but it struck a cord. The restaurant had been closed for an hour before noticing we were the only people in the place… I’ve found Sundays are nonexistent in Europe, so the walk to the hotel left little to explore. Back in the dollhouse… our room with 4 girls and 3 beds is a really nice loft, but the ceilings are angular and Bob the Builder considered NO ONE over 5’5”. I feel like Vyruka in Charlie’s Chocolate Factory walking into shrinking rooms with optical illusion ceilings and walls. I found 4 goose eggs while shampooing my hair this morning from getting up in the middle of the night, hitting my head by the bed, and again in the bathroom trying to find the light conveniently fixed in the opposite corner where the ceiling goes from 6 feet to 4 feet in 3 steps… Leftover pizza from lunch, prunes and a blood clementine for dinner… I’ve developed an obsession with blood clementines…

The art keeps getting better and better! Ecstatic to arrive in Firenze (Florence) tomorrow for 10 days. Ciao ciao ciao ciao ciao…

DAY 33: Fa-ra-ra-ra-ra Ra-ra-ra-ra

Trains, trains and more trains... when 15 people board a water bus each carrying two large backpacks, back off. A woman in head to toe fur and trilby hat threw her arms up in exasperation as if I kidnapped her first born (who would be my mother's age...) and yelled at me for not taking Luigi off... I explained that he was too heavy and gets separation anxiety- she scolded me and stomped to the back. I have a new found sympathy for idiots hefting baggage equal to their body weight... Off to Ravenna we venture, through the flattest land in all of Italy. We change trains in Ferarra and while Mother Jesse was organizing and shooing everyone else off the train, she left her jacket. With her wallet and camera. Of ALL the people to be irresponsible, our built in GPS navigator forgets her damn jacket. A very helpful woman at the ticket counter called the conductor and he agreed to put it on the next train back from Bologna. And since I've been elected vice-president (behind "The Harv"), I volunteered to stay behind and keep her company in the God-for-saken town. I entrusted Roo with Taylor (which I think he harshly regrets), grabbed Luigi and Trixy (my red bag-o-tricks, finally decided on a name) and we huffed it into !FERARRA! Isn't the guy that bought Suri Cruise's  bronzed baby poop from there? We had an hour to kill before her jacket came back, and another 3 hours before a train to Ravenna left... after 20 minutes of walking, we started to lose feeling in our shoulders and wondered how we weren't indenting the pavement with every step. We set up camp at Cafe Diemme CAPITOL and tested "Alfie" and "Chong's" Italian-to-English culinary vocabulary... which entertained us for a good 20 before ordering salads and a plate-o-pig. Jesse ran back while I sampled 8 varieties of ham and enjoyed a very fresh salad- yellow peppers, artichokes, tomatoes, fennel, carrots, olives and tuna. Since Lizzy and Mr. Dawsy went with Roo, I contemplated the differences between French and Italian baked goods(if this is your first time reading my blog, you'll need a refresher on the cast and crew of "Team Blond Voyage")... 


SO FAR, there have been no bakeries but a lot of sweet shops with hard, shortbread/biscotti style cookies, dunkers, dippers and "turtleheads"... It sounds like a sample platter at TGI Fridays (barf). I call them turtleheads because they are basically a flour derivative shell stuffed with anything you can imagine: chocolate, creme, gelato, marinara, ham, nuts, shellfish... Holy Canolli! When I walked by French Pastry Shops, I felt like Michael Jackson walking by a daycare... you just can't resist (I'm aware of my inappropriateness). Seriously, who can pass up a white truffle hazelnut macaroon from Pierre Hermes in Paris??? No one can. I promise. But in Italy, the only time I have to cover my eyes and plug my nose is passing by gelato shops. ALL of the bread is bleached white, and even though I AM white bread, I hate white bread. 


She reported back with no sign of activity, except for a hair salon she contemplated getting a new coufe in... I told her not to move, asked if she knew her own name, where we were and if she could see how many fingers I was holding up... I then slapped some sense into her and we headed back to the station. Until we found a RADICALLY FABULOUS vintage shop. (I knew staying behind in Ferarra would be worth it... I mean, what else would I write about today?)


 "The train stunk like Chihuahua puke and the seats were made for 5 year old asses. The hotel is mediocre at best and I have to share a bed with another human being. Boo. And I ate some more food..."


Exactly... so we played dress up with Dior and Valentino for the better part of an hour, and because the shop opened yesterday, the owner's buddy brought a celebratory bottle of wine HE MADE and included us in the "Cin cin." It took all the muscles I have left in my body to not purchase a mustard yellow, cropped leather, bat-wing biker jacket that screamed "WHIT!!!" I would have won best in show at 80's prom, no questions asked. Damn you practicality- you win. You always do... I walked with a cheap-as-Indian-curry Armani vest instead. This rendezvous coerced us to miss our train, so we decided to take the NEXT train leaving in 45 minutes. Plenty of time to grab some snacks at a grocery... until we found huge steel barrels full of "pour your own wine"... my boss probably won't re-hire me this summer (bartender) based solely on the quality of koolaid I've been consuming- frankly it's embarrassing... BUT 2 liters for 2 euros?! SOLD. A Mausoleum caught our eye on our never ending trek to the station and of course we had to check it out... a giant statue of a naked man pouring babies out of pots onto cliffs welcomed the public... IT WAS A FAMILY CENTER! And there were heroine syringes in the playground... LOVELY. We missed our NEXT train due to complicated contemplation of abortion innuendo via the Rock of Gibraltar...


We finally arrived in Ravenna, eagerly greeted by a few groupies ready to show us where the hotel REALLY was, contrary to our directions. Apparently "The Harv" was minutes away from calling in a search party (really? I think he just wanted to go to dinner...) and once everyone changed out of their worried pants, we dropped into a place around the corner for some veggie risotto and Adriatic Blue Fish a.k.a. Anchovies a.k.a. mud on a stick. I received approximately 40 fish divided onto 2 skewers dipped and fried (I think). Definitely worked off the calories trying to debone each one, which lacked any rewarding flavor or substance. After a team Lemoncello and a slammed middle finger in a broken chair, I left tired and aggravated. But never go to bed mad... in Italy!


Happy Single's Awareness Day! errr Valentine's Day! Peace and Love, peace and love!


Mosaics and more manana... ciao!

DAY 32: Don't touch me I'm STARVING

If you've been to Vegas, you can understand our crew’s demeanor this morning… really I needn't say more, but recall crawling on hands and knees out of a casino, strip club, or any space that allows minimal, if any light, removing one’s time/day/place gage? 9 a.m. felt like a rhinoceros was sitting on my forehead… and why am I experiencing vertigo? It was a beautiful, sunshiny day brought to us by Nurse Vitamin-D… walking+fresh air= first steps to recovery. Carnivale ate us up and projectile spewed us into the Palazzo Grassi, a modern art museum that put a little pep in our shuffle. Hip-hop blared through the windows upon entering, with floor tiles that lit up- it was like psychedelic Twister meets Dance, Dance Revolution. We stood and stared for a good 10 minutes before travelling through rooms containing works by the masterminds of weird shit. Life size drill bits with porno collage coloring books lining the walls and through the window, astronauts sitting in a gondola in the canal. (WTF?) My favorite was “101 Art Ideas You Can Do Yourself:”

-Paparazzi your pet.

-Make a scent instillation: pine branch in your microwave, glass of cologne, fart.

-Publish your emails

-Frame a painting with a feather boa.

-Go on an urban animal safari- pigeons, rats, squirrels, cockroaches…

-Make mud: 2 parts dirt, one part water.

-Take Drugs

-Sprinkle glitter.

-Kill yourself.

-Title your life.

-Don’t clean your house and call it scatter art.

Part of the wolf pack had to scamper back to the hotel and sleep, so the rest of us searched the desert for the San Giovanni y Paulo Church… housed a great Bellini (the artist, not the cocktail) and intricate little rooms with great ceilings and Venetian sculptures. “Harv” took us to his favorite sandwich shop, "Lazzarini” with the friendliest guys and a killer Panini- parma ham, eggplant, zucchini, mozzarella, EVOO on a perfectly toasted roll… D-lish! (I’m running out of yummy vocabulary). We lost more soldiers, and Devon, Taylor and I were on a photography high, so we walked to another church with another Bellini and glass performers out front- they each had rolling carts full of water glasses and gently rubbed the rims serenading the crowd with Beethoven and Mozart.

Carnivale is Italy’s Halloween, Mardi Gras, New Years, Cinco de Mayo and Superbowl spread out over 10 days, with Friday being the most important day. Couples step back in time creating elaborate costumes that put Shakespeare In Love to shame. Imagining the time and effort and process it takes to build this wearable art is mind blowing. I mean, there was a man riding around on a mechanical snail... They even dress their dogs up to walk around, posing for photographers and tourists. I never realized Venice was where Lady Gaga’s stylist came for inspiration…

I received an email from a friend in Bozeman, recommending a great little restaurant called “al Covo.” I grabbed a few girls and walked to an intimate little cave, tucked back behind the hub-bub… the owners are a darling couple- she is from Texas, he is Italian, and they met in the States 25 years ago. They don’t use any butter or animal fat and everything is fresh from the market daily. We were lucky enough to be seated across from a family of ignorance (not immigrants, ignorance…) who brought their delightfully retched children along for a Friday night outing… these rug rats were screaming and hanging from the chandeliers like chimpanzees, but honestly, father dearest took the cake. Literally, and swallowed it in one bite. The “God Fatha” sat at the head of the table, with two empty chairs on either side creating “elbow room”… he received course after course, shoveling it in as fast as they could cook it. I felt like I was witnessing an eating contest (in horror) as he chewed with his mouth wide open, dribbling enough marinara down the front of himself to feed a family of shrews for a week. I nearly lost my appetite, BUT we shook it off and shared fried calamari, artichokes and polenta. I decided on black pasta- (fresh spaghetti noodles, boiled with squid ink) served with prawns and a light tomato sauce. When “Gus” set it in front of me, it’s aroma made the whole table drool- Y.U.M. A bottle of Sangiovese and total contentment later, we thanked the welcoming committee and grabbed a night cap at the IrishShark, our favorite (and only) Irish pub… procrastinating the endeavor of feeding our flock of backpacks.

One month feels like 5 days… Europe is flying by before my eyes! Continuing on to Ravenna tomorrow for more CHARTEUMS (church, art, museums…) Ciao ciao!