Florence

My first thought about Florence, after we exited our train and maneuvered through the masses of people and luggage and made our way out onto the taxi platform...was "Dear Lord, its humid here. My hair is going to be gigantic."

Situated in a valley between two mountainous areas, the atmosphere holds a great deal of moisture. Up to 85% humidity is not uncommon. I am pleased to report that my hair soaked up at least 15% of it while we toured the city. You're welcome, Florence.

As I have come to expect from Italian cities (and cities of the world in general) Florence had a very distinct atmosphere. It had a big city vibe in some ways, with lots of traffic and throngs of people. But also, in the old, historical section of the city, where we were staying and spent almost all of our time, there are so many old buildings and marble statues that they start to all look the same. Art and architecture are the things this city is famous for. And, of course, food and wine, as it is the capital of the Tuscany region.

As we wandered, I would say "What is THIS amazing building?" (expecting it to be something famous and unlike anything else...) And then we would discover it was a museum, and we would take in its lovely renaissance architecture, and move on. After the 3rd of 4th time this exact same thing happened...I changed my approach. I began, instead, to count how many different museums we passed as we explored the old city. I am pleased to tell all of you that we laid eyes on 12 museums in the 2.5 days we were in Florence. I feel that keeping track of it was brain power well spent.

In addition to soaking up some of the humid air, my hair also received an original Florentine treatment, designed to instantly moisturize and perfume the strands...and by that, I mean...a bird pooped in my hair while we were exploring the old, original bridge crossing the river.

Not just a little bit of poop, either. It was a giant PLOP that soaked into my hair and onto my shoulder. Of course, we hadn't yet checked into our hotel room, so I had nowhere to go to wash it out. Instead, we stole some napkins from a street cafe, and I handed them to Heath to clean me up.

He barely kept from throwing up (eye roll) so Ashley took over picking the pellets out of my rapidly growing mane.

I have now developed a fear of birds.

Nature has been toying with us this trip, for sure. Ashley got stung by a bee in France, I got pooped on by a bird in Italy...and we were rained on in Cinque Terre.

But, oh my, how different that part of the Italian landscape was from the bustling cities we have stayed in.

It took 2 hours to drive from Florence to the coast, and as we went, we passed through several different regions of the country. Each one is known for a different specialty of food or wine or natural materials. For miles and miles we drove past nurseries, with rows upon rows of different trees, grown there due to the high volume of rainfall and then shipped all over Italy. Then, almost as soon as we entered a new region, the fields changed, housing grapes or olives. And then again, a new region, with many textile factories. Then we entered a mountainous region, and our guide pointed out a set of tall, white peaks nearby.

"This is not snow," he told us, then asked if we knew what it was. We were stunned, because anyone would immediately consider them snow capped mountains.

"The town is the town of Carrera," he hinted...and we blinked, not understanding. "The white you see is Carrera marble. It is only found here."

You've never seen anything like it. Actually, that's not true. If you've seen snowy mountains, you have seen something like it. But this was MARBLE. An entire mountain range of marble. Unbelievable.

The 5 tiny towns that make up the Cinque Terre region were charming, picturesque, adorable. We were amazed by the fact that they terraced gardens and buildings were built into the side of sheer rock mountains. And all of the planting and harvesting and working was done by hands and feet and backs, no matter how young or old. It had to be grueling work. And after everything was built, the grueling work continued. The people who live in that area work from morning till night, just to sustain their way of life. They produce wine and olive oil, they grow lemons and figs and prickly pears, and they fish, pushing their boats by hand down and up the precarious dock, and through the winding, steep streets, every time they want to use them. With such small space, and so much work that is required for everything they do, they don't have enough of the wine or olive oil or lemons available to sell it outside the region. If you want to taste it, you have to visit the towns and eat at the cafes. And so we did.

I can't describe how charming we found it, to sit down to a meal made entirely of things grown on the surrounding hills. It was my favorite Italian experience so far. And I've seen and done a LOT of really cool things here.

We climbed more stairs here, because we are eating so much pasta and bread that we keep looking for things to do to burn them off. (That last part is a lie. We ARE eating all the carbs, but we are only burning them off because their are very few elevators, and none of them were installed in the old structures we are touring.) Another 400+ steps to look out over Florence from the top of the Duomo (dome). It was oppressively hot. As in, Ashley and I are considering burning the undergarments we wore that day. My hair did its part to soak up the moisture...but we still sweat puddles onto the stone steps. The view from the top was magic, as all the elevated views have been.

The statue of David did not disappoint either. People with any artistic ability amaze me, as I have NONE. Seeing the famous art of the world makes me feel a lot more cultured, even if I know deep down I'm just a little old country girl who gets a daily hankering for sweet tea and bare feet.

Now, we can say were are country folk who have laid eyes, in person, on a few of the art world's masterpieces.

It's off to Milan now, but only for a short bit of touring. Tomorrow is the Manza Formula One race, so this evening will be our only chance to look for discount shopping. "Is there a Ross, dress for less, in Milan?" Ashley asked. And there is, in fact, a discount store. I'm not sure that the retailers of Milan have the same idea as us about what price is considered a discount...I'll keep you posted.

Arrivederci for now!