Hide and Seek

I have this thing with Ben & Jerry's, well, it's becoming a thing. A couple years ago I was standing in line waiting for my favorite scoop, Oatmeal Cookie, joking around obnoxiously with Rachel Tomlinson, as only we do...and who do I catch out of the corner of my eye but Bruce Willis. Bruce was wearing the classic, don't notice me, celebrity get up...ratty jeans, black t-shirt, hat, and sunglasses. As if no one notices someone who doesn't take off their sunglasses inside, but whatever, Bruce.

I like to think that seeing a movie star doesn't phase me because I have grown up around enough "famous" people in my town, my school, etc. so I didn't really react. I'm mature, I'm smooth. About a half hour later as we walked around the plaza (in Malibu), and who do we run into, but Bruce. Bruce, are you following me? I wonder. Of course it didn't occur to me at the time that I was in the smallest town in the world. Two Bruce sightings in one day? It was uncanny!

Fast forward to this summer in SB. I was sitting inside Jeannine's, waiting for my Turkey Cranberry sandwich (my mouth is watering), and gazing outside at the beautiful sunny day. After a few minutes I noticed a guy (hat and sunglasses, como siempre) who kept looking up from his meal at me. Only then did I realize I had been gazing right over the head of my good friend Bruce. Of course, being the celebrity that he is, naturally he assumed I was gazing longingly at him. I hastily averted my gaze, totally embarrassed, despite the fact that this time his incognito celebrity uniform had actually worked!

On Friday, as Mara and I strolled through Sevilla doing some lazy afternoon shopping and I noticed an older, scruffy looking bald guy sauntering along with an ice cream cone- from Ben & Jerry's (aha! a pattern, yeah okay, a loose one). I sort of recognized him and wracked my brain for a moment. Sometimes this happens when you see a celebrity, you get this, how do I know you nervous feeling, like you're about to have a blank-faced awkward interaction. As soon as I realized I said to Mara under my breath (smooth and classy, remember?), "Mar are you seeing this?" She kept on talking, not paying any attention. As soon as we passed him I grabbed her arm, "Mara that was Bill Murray!"

"No it wasn't!" she cried incredulously and immediately turned around to follow him, "I have to see his face!" I began protesting. I did not want to break my suave, unaffected performance! I followed her anyway, realizing how much I wanted her to believe me, but after a few minutes I couldn't take it any longer and ducked under an overhang, saying, "Is this the place you were looking for Mar?" As soon as Bill heard me (speaking english...dumb!) and saw that I had backtracked with a tall, blond, German girl (we don't blend well in Spain, have I mentioned that?)-- he crossed the street suddenly.

Mara stood there, exposed, and watched him walk. He proceeded to duck into an alley behind a big truck. I thought he had just disappeared and came out to continue on our way, but Mara stood and continued watching. "Vanessa! He is hiding behind the truck." QUE?? I followed her gaze, and sure enough, Bill Murray's feet stood right below the frame of the truck. We gawked for at least a minute and they didn't budge. He must be finishing his ice cream cone, I thought, and waiting it out. Crazy Americans!

I walked away, again, horribly embarrassed, but secretly thrilled. A couple minutes later Mara said, "Umm, remember when Bill Murray hid from us?" We bust up laughing. An amusing anecdote that I thought I'd share...doesn't surpass Jon sharing a joint with Rob Schneider in Amsterdam, but still, pretty good. :)

Bom Dia, Boa Tarde, Boa Noite!

Last Wednesday I hopped on a midnight bus to Lisbon to spend a long weekend with my Portuguese family. Well, if we're going to get technical, they are not "real" family, but Ana Margarida and Rita are the sister and niece (respectively) of a family that is as good as my own, the Martins, and they have never failed to make me feel that way on the various occasions that we have spent holidays or celebrations as one big, well, family. This time was no exception.

I emailed Ana Margarida on Monday of last week, having just been told that I would have a 4 day weekend for some Spanish holiday of no particular importance, hoping to seize this opportunity to visit the Portuguese Martins in Lisbon. Thankfully, Margarida, ever warm, inviting, and enthusiastic, embraced my spontaneity and booked me a hotel straight away, saying "Come to Lisbon, we are waiting for you!"

I took a midnight train two days later to Lisbon, arriving at 6am, and wandered to find a taxi to my hotel. I try to make a point of utilizing whatever meager amounts of a language I may have in my repertoire in each new cultural exchange, probably because of my perpetual fear of linguicentrism (I think I made that word up, i.e. expecting everyone to speak english), and this pre-dawn taxi-ride was to be no exception, no matter how tired I was. I managed a "Bom dia", the address of my hotel and an "Obrigada," which I thought was pretty good, considering how tired I was, but my taxi driver cocked his head up and took one glance at me through the rearview mirror and said, "You're English, aren't you?" "Americana," I responded. "Well then, speak English!" as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Despite my disheveled appearance and bleary eyes, my taxi driver saw my brief presence in his cab as an opportunity to practice his English and bestow upon me, what I later found to be, a characteristic Portuguese perspective. After relaying to him my current occupation in Spain he said, not without an air of disdain, "And how are your students?" I hemmed and hawed a bit, giving them a gracious report only to be met with what resembles a "Guffaw" and a small rant regarding the inferiority of the Spanish, them...and the French. For the remainder of the trip, almost without fail, I was met with Portuguese who could not only speak English proficiently but also Spanish, French and/or German, and this ubiquitous opinion of the Spanish.

On Thursday I wandered the streets of Lisbon, full of hills, taking in the plethora of awe-inspiring vistas, classic Portuguese white buildings with yellow or blue trim, castles, bridges, the vast river (often mistaken for the sea) and dined with the happy couple and the beautiful Mika in their flat in Cascais. On Friday I made a day trip to Sintra where I saw the most unique and exquisite palace, perched on the top of a hill overlooking the city, the forest, and the sea.

From Palacio Pena I decided to wander of in the direction of a convent, aided only by one road sign about 3km down with an arrow down a simple road. My fascination with convents and monasteries began not too long ago when I was sitting and talking and dreaming with my dear friend Abby about the adventures we were about to embark upon and she showed me a book of Monasteries in Italy that allow you to stay in them for a nominal fee. Intrigued, I did some research and found that the same was true in Spain, although the actual ones are not listed online. I inquired in the tourist office in Sevilla only to be told that "No hay en Andalusia." Bummer. I'm going to do it though, only a matter of time. Anyway....

I walked for about 30 minutes in that direction, perfectly content with earbuds tucked in and my "iphone glory" playlist of worship songs playing, imagining myself on a mini-pilgrimage, a sort of practice round for the somewhat longer pilgrimage I will take in May (more on that later). Not long after walking I noticed little posts on the side of the road marking the distance, 8.6, 8.5, 8.4km...and thought, perhaps this is to show how far the historic convent is from here. 8.6km, well, that's quite far...but no matter, I have all day and there is really nothing I enjoy more than walking through a new country, especially off a beaten path. And, let me tell you, this was an unbeaten path. Well, at least for a couple centuries. I came upon several dilapidated estates and only dared to enter one that was very near the road. There is something so enchanting and eery about abandoned buildings, especially ones that have been overtaken by vines and moss and trees and that now barely resemble a human abode.

I kept walking for miles, every once in a while being passed by a curious car, to which I paid no attention because I was set on walking the whole way there. As I reached the top of each new hill I found a new village nestled among the trees below or a clearer view of the sea and reveled in the beauty of this little storybook land. As I saw the numbers 3.2, 2.4, 1.1 pass by I began to walk a bit faster with excitement and anticipation in each step. Then, all of a sudden, I was at the end of the road, looking at another sign, just like the first one I had seen over 10km back, except this time, with one marked difference- note the distance: "Convento Capuchos 4". What? 4km back?? How did I miss it? Besides the obvious disappointment, now I was a bit worried. It was about 4:30 and I knew I had about an hour and a half before dark and I was well away from the town, not to mention the Convent would probably be closing soon. I knew I was going to have to hitch-hike back to Sintra either way so rather than walk down into another town to find my way back, I head back up into the hills to complete my quest.

This time, I decided, I would not be against a little help, so I decided to petition a small coupe coming up the road for a short ride. An old man named Grecia, the one Portuguese I met during my whole trip who did not speak English (or Spanish) opened the passenger door for me gruffly without saying a word. I just kept saying "convento" and he tried to speak German and we were a goofy lot for the 5 minute ride to his natural spring well. He stopped, said, "Agua" and pointed me in the direction of the Convent...okay, 1km to go. As I walked a blue BMW drove up next to me, rolled down the window and motioned me inside. I remembered seeing it parked in front of a glorious mansion at the end of the road. I shook my head and smiled, "Solomente un kilometer" (resorting to Spanish), and the man nodded reluctantly and drove on. Two minutes later the same car came back the opposite direction and stopped to inquire what (the heck) I was doing because apparently he saw me walking a couple hours ago. Refraining from just calling myself loco, I explained my destination and declined help again (I can walk the last km, claro!). He drove off only to return, once again, going my way, and insisting on driving me the remainder. The Portuguese are incessantly accommodating! ;)

I found myself at the convent, 10 minutes before it was to close, buying a ticket and appeasing the perplexed woman at the desk explaining that I would find some way down the big hill to town (I did concede that I was a little loco this time), and finally venturing into see the place I had walked over 14km to reach. I will explain it with photos only, but suffice to say, I was satisfied and once again enchanted by the history and beauty of the country. The ticket woman convinced me to drive to Capuchos with her and take a bus back to Sintra, so I agreed, happy to not have to hitch a ride in the dark and happier to set this poor woman's mind at ease (and my dad's too, because I knew he'd be reading this ;).

Once back in Sintra, I ran to catch the train, stopping in the station cafe for a hunk of chocolate salami for the road, realizing that I hadn't eaten since breakfast at the hotel. Chocolate salami is one of Portugal's mythic treats for me because Giselle and I were obsessed with it when we came 5 years ago and I hadn't had it since. That night, I met Margarida for dinner, exuberant, exhausted, and famished. We feasted on cod fish (also very Portuguese), wine, and a boiled egg dessert down by the docks.

Saturday Margarida and I took a long scenic drive down the coast to the Troia peninsula, where a lot of families from Lisbon have summer homes. On the way she stopped to show me a beautiful convent nestled up in the canyon overlooking the crystal blue water of the Atlantic. A colleague of hers was married here a few years ago...a new dream of mine! :) We took a ferry across the river and spent hours relaxing on the beach and eating a late lunch in a small fishing village. That night, we strolled through Barrio Alto, a four-street neighborhood of funky bars and restaurants with tons of people hanging out and drinking in the streets until the wee hours (which, like a lot of Lisbon, resembles San Francisco). I met some of Rita's friends and they took me in like one of their own and treat me to a great night in the Barrio and later at the best disco in Lisbon, called Lux. It was truly impressive, and was made all that much more so because we walked right to the front, greeted the doorman with a hug and handshake and passed well over a block of people waiting in the freezing cold of 4am. Yet another way I was happily spoiled in Lisbon. :)

On Sunday Rita and Luis had all of their friends over for a bbq and we spent the whole afternoon playing with the beautiful baby and chatting and gazing out on the Atlantic (and NATO headquarters) right from their balcony. Their friends were delightful and warm and I was so sad to leave, but I have been entreated to return in June for a big festival called Santos, so I hope to make it back before I head back to the states.

More than anything, spending time with Margarida and getting to know her better and Portugal through her eyes was such a wonderful experience. I told her and Rita that the thing I looked forward to most about coming to visit was the normalcy and comfort of being with a family and I enjoyed that time immensely. In some ways, coming back to Sevilla, I feel as if I have left my heart in Portugal...yet another place it now resides, as with all of you.

Boa noite!

A long time coming...

Today is a momentous day. We finally have internet in the piso!! As many of you know, I changed apartments to live with a couple girls in a slightly newer, much cleaner place. We moved in at the beginning of February and had some technical difficulties, but are finally joining the modern world with our very own...not stolen while perched in the freezing cold on the balcony...wifi! :)

It kind of goes without saying, but I'm going to say it anyway...a lot has happened since my last post, so this could end up being arduously long and tiring. Well, grab a cafelito, and suck it up because here it comes...in themes.

Vanessa goes back to school to learn her a, b, th's (that's right, Sevilliano's have a lisp, love it.)....

I spent three weeks in an intensive Spanish language school to get my Spanish back up to snuff. While I am no where near fluent, and in fact still have rather awkward moments where I stare blankly at people and run to grab one of my roommates, I can understand the majority of Spanish that is spoken to me and express myself...well, mas o menos. I've been told that if you learn Spanish in Andalusia (the southern region in Spain), you will be able to understand it anywhere in the world, because the accent is just that difficult. I think this might be a bit of an overstatement. Throw in a "vale" or a "tio" and you've got yourself a ready-made local idiom. I think I can fool people with a few phrases, but once we get past the pleasantries, my American accent shines right through.

My class was a wonderful international hodgepodge comprised of a Japanese girl (talk about culture-shock...do not envy her!), a cute Belgian boy (spoke 3 languages fluently- that's hot;), a Swiss girl (my daily coffee break companera), a German girl (Ana, the architect), a Nigerian nun (her laugh was infectious), and a couple American girls.

I'm pretty sure I have already raved about my profesora, but I might just have to do that some more...there were many things about my professora that I loved. She has a masters in linguistics and teaches Spanish to foreigners 4 hours a day and then has the rest of her time to spend with her family. There is a constant flow of new people coming from all over the world into the school...different ages, different nationalities, different professions and reasons for needing/wanting to learn spanish. Inma infused the teaching of her language to a group of struggling scholars with such passion that I have been inspired to add another career-option to my list and as I have the desire to live abroad, maybe in Spain, or in otras lugares, for a bit longer in my life, teaching english seems to be the best common denominator right now...which brings me to my next section...

Experiments in Illegal Immigration: Vanessa teaches herself to teach English and the beautiful irony of Spain...

Pretty much all of the friends I have made here have been through Mara and they are all girls in her program (teaching English in local schools for the spanish gov't). One of those girls had a couple requests for private tutoring but her schedule was already full so she passed them off to me. So far this has resulted in two different jobs. One is pretty simple, two 1 hour sessions per week with a woman in her mid-30's who wants to start working for a man who owns a bunch of rental properties all over the world. She is really sweet and has two adorable little boys and she pays me 18e/hour. Pretty sweet, considering that I have absolutely no idea what I'm doing. I spend a good amount of time preparing though, because I don't want to be ripping anyone off.

The second job is one that epitomizes Spain better than any haphazard expression I could come up with. I am teaching a class of 6 Spanish civil servants and military men at the Ministry of the Interior just outside of Sevilla. Their jobs range from customs officials to under-cover drug-traffic control agents. I have to enter through a guarded gate and be escorted to the classroom, but the irony is, I have NO papers. I have no visa to live here, let alone work here, and they could care less. So I went for my first day on Tuesday, and the guy who hired me was not going to be there because he just had back surgery, but the other 5 were supposed to be. I got to the gate and the guard did not have my name so they asked for my passport and I regrettably gave it to them (they wrote my info on a post-it though....I mean, do I look like a threat to national security?). I was already 5 minutes late by this point, for my FIRST day as a REAL teacher...I was flustered. I kept repeating the same few phrases to the amiable-enough-looking guard...despite the fact that all he said was "no" or "no puedo entrarte"...and finally I convinced him to walk me to the classroom to prove that I wasn't lying, that I was supposed to be there, I mean, I had a purpose, I was a MAESTRA DE INGLES for crying out loud!

Antonio, 55 year old career military man, father of 4, grandpa of 1, walked me back to my classroom to verify my story and make sure I was okay. Problem was, no one was there. So now, not only am I thinking that I have stood up my class and they have all left in disgust, but also, I have this guard with me who now thinks I'm lying to get on a base. I start apologizing and giving him all the possible scenarios in which my class would not be there at 4:12, but he just smiles and says, "No pasa nada" and asks if I'd like a cafelito? We head into the cafe next door and spend the next 3 1/2 hours drinking and gabbing (in the best spanish I could possibly come up with) and meeting every 50+ officer whom he has been friends with for years. It was one of the most memorable afternoons I have had so far.

I love the Spanish work ethic (or lack thereof...4 cervesitas at 4:30, Antonio?...por que no, tia?), desire to care for anyone and everyone (I got 2 invitations to 2nd homes in Granada and 1 in Cadiz), the excessive compliments (Que guapa, hija!), and the habitual and careless use of dirty words that somehow seem to mean nothing (not giving examples here b/c they still mean something to me!). I plan to go to work an hour early every time just to spend more time with my guys. ;)

I've taught one class now and, let me tell you, it was one of the most nerve-wracking two and a half hours of my life as 5 men sat looking at me expectantly, like I was supposed to have all the answers or something!! Actually, it went very well and I absolutely loved the challenge, even as it proved more challenging than I ever thought it would be.

Party-time en Espana....como siempre!

I would say I gave it the good old college try, but I actually never even partied this much in college! Spaniards have an incredible stamina when it comes to nightlife and living with Mr. Fiesta (David) for 3 weeks translated into a never-ending string of bars and discos, free drinks and dancing until my heels wore down. At one point I realized that I had gone out every single night until at least 3 or 4 for over a week...and woken up to go to class at 8 (perfect attendance, btw)! That came to an end after an all-nighter in Cadiz for Carnival, during which time I came down with the worst cold flu I had had in years and had to sleep for pretty much 3 days straight to recover.

The next weekend I was all rested and ventured down to Rota (another beach town) for the whole weekend with some American girls and Spanish guys, who graciously hosted us in their family's beach homes. Mara and I did a return of Poison Ivy and Cat Woman (you were dearly missed, Matil), but this time she got sick (boo)! Nevertheless, Rota was beautiful and it was so wonderful to walk on the beach and dip my toes in the ocean. It felt like home. :)


(Mara and I love this pic b/c exemplifies our exasperation with Spanish men;)
(I found a little bike...weee!:)

This weekend some of the girls from Mara's program wanted to have a party for Valentine's day...La Fiesta del Amor (claro)...but they got a hate note from their neighbors so we thought it was called off. A few hours later, Mara got a next saying, "Meet at 10:30 on Calle Letis, Manu said we can have the party in his palace." So, naturally we thought she had mis-spelled the word and had meant to say "place," but NO, it was literally a PALACE!
...Manu had access b/c he is supposed to be selling the place for 3ish million euros...

We were escorted down a side street and hurriedly snuck into a little door, which served as the only outside edifice of the massive building. It was three stories, with an expansive courtyard in the middle, windy staircases, floor to ceiling mirrors in half the rooms, but completely unfurnished and slightly decrepit, with no electricity or running water, and illuminated only by candlelight and the lively chatter that could only be produced by the excitement of 50 naughty children. Adventures in Spain...just keep getting better.
:)
Thanks for reading the novella...I will try to post more frequently with this new-found luxury called "weefee" in Spain. ;)

Besos y abrazos a vosotros!

Me encanta Sevilla

I have been in Sevilla for almost two weeks and in some ways it feels like I haven't seen half of it and in others it feels like I have been here forever. Thanks for the friendly prodding from a few of you to keep blogging. It has been kind of a challenge for me to get in the reflective mindset that blogging often necessitates (at least for me), but I know you're not asking for the profound...so here it goes.

Very simply, I love Sevilla. I love the incredible vibrancy of this city, the colors of the buildings and the sky along the river at sunset, getting lost in the windy streets of barrio Santa Rosa, the fashionista Sevillanos, the enormous parques, the uneven tempo of the day and week, the cafe fuerte (Amy you would love it), the constant walking, the month long city-wide "day-after-thanksgiving-like" sale (rebajas), copas (drinks) any time of the day or night, the buzzing discos in the wee-est hours of the morning, the most adorable ninos you have ever seen, the guapos (hay muchisimo;), the bell at my language school, the fact that Friday night I was in a piso with a Mexican, a Spaniard, Danish girls, Belgian boys, Icelandic girls, a British boy, Germans...and was the only American (and the only person who could speak less than 3 languages) in the room, the tapas, the periwinkle sky at twilight (never seen anything like it) the siestas, the distinctly Sevillan spanish- short and sweet, the Spanish (in general) who speak the same language as the latinos but with the passion and energy of the Italianos...todos Bellisimo!


Last week I moved in with a Sevillano named David. He is such a fun guy, great energy, talks to/knows everyone in this city, and so nice! He owns three businesses in Sevilla: a finance/consulting company, a tourist/Spanish fusion company called We Love Spain, and a bar called El Duende. I was directed to We Love Spain by Mara's roommate who said they may be able to help me with housing, school, job, whatever I decided (I'll explain more about their business in another post- pretty cool idea though).

David's girlfriend, Elizabeth, who is from Redondo Beach originally, co-owns We Love Spain and she hooked me up with a room in David's piso (apt.). It's typically Spanish, which means out-of-date, muchas cosas no funcionas, y hay un perro- no me le gusta...but David and Liz are so sweet, we have had so much fun together, and regardless of the ever depreciating dollar, it's still really cheap!

I'm posting a few random photos. I am seriously not a photog...I never use my camera. I think I have a lot of difficulty shattering the experience with a camera...even after seeing great use of candid shooting from friends, it still separates me...and I am so IN it right now. I think that is why I haven't blogged as well. As much as writing can add to an experience, I think it takes away a bit of the magic for me. Haha...I'm so dramatic. No te preocupas...I will keep blogging, if only to add to the experience by hearing from you all! :)

Top center- bottom right is the bridge I walk across every morning to school and any time I go to el centro (a lot)

Middle- I bought two pairs of black boots in one day- Rebajas- what's a chica to do!? (still can't rotate image, bah! oh well) *note: the incredible color of the sky at twilight

Bottom- Mara, Samara, y yo outside David's bar El Duende...it's 3:30 we're giddy and it's closed :)

Besos! (cheek/cheek kisses)

Grathia

Sevillianos have a unique way of speaking Spanish. They shorten and/or combine most common words and they use the classic Spanish lisp. So....gracias (which was even hard for me to convert to from grazie) becomes gracia, but sounds like grathia. And that's just the beginning!

This city is so beautiful, and much nicer weather than Florence was...50-60's and blue skies at least half the day! :) Most of the streets are lined with the famous (although I never made the connection) Sevillian oranges. I was so surprised that people don't pick them, but Mara told me that they are actually quite bitter so they stay on the trees until spring, at which point, the city collects them and makes jam. Nice little revenue source for the city and so pretty to look at!

I have been so blessed so far in my travels because in each place I go (Florence and now Sevilla) I have had wonderful friends to pick me up at the airport, give me a place to sleep, and show me around! It really takes so much of the stress out of traveling. My friend Mara, who I am staying with now, is working for the Spanish government teaching English in local schools. She has students from preschool to high school level. Yesterday evening I got to go with her to a 5-6th grade class and help her teach! It was so much fun!

Today, I went on a language school/apartment/job search and found a local business (started by a California girl and her Spanish boyfriend- We Love Spain) that is going to help me find all three!

So...about these photos...yesterday when Mara and I were strolling around El Centro and the Barrio Santa Cruz we came across a strike in front of city hall. The carriage drivers that take people on tours of the city stood all of their horses in front of city hall so that they would crap all over the sidewalk and express their dissatisfaction with...no se'. How funny is that! And of course, the riot police turned out for the intense rebellion! Mara and I just appreciated the dark handsome men in uniform and laughed at all the horse turds. :)

And then this morning, Mara brought in the newspaper with the exact same photo I took! I guess I'm not the only one that found it amusing. ;)



Time for tapas y siesta! Buenos tardes!

Ciao Ciao!

I absolutely fell in love with this city all over again yesterday. After a really late night...Abby, Greg and I found some Italians to escort us to a disco called YAB, where we danced until 4 am!...A&G were really tired, so I slipped out to let them sleep and took myself on a little adventure.


I had planned to go to the Uffizi, but being that it was a rainy Sunday, that was the place to be and I couldn't bear a 45 minute line. I walked to the Duomo, thinking I might climb the tower again, but it was closed for noon mass. I really wanted to go to mass, but it was full, so I kept walking. I head across the Ponte Vecchio back to where the Palace gardens are and on my way found a little chapel, where I ducked in just a few minutes late for mass and took a spot in the back. Although I could understand very little, it was a moving experience listening to all the voices melodic chants...always ending in Jesus Christo, amen. That's all the commonality we need anyway. It was beautiful.

I ventured back out into the rain again and found my way to a rather lonely park on this dreary day. It took me back into this little community on the hill, which I think was mainly housing for military families...and I'm pretty sure I wasn't supposed to be there, but the people were friendly enough. I then continued to traipse across town, thoroughly soaked by now, and spotted a fort up on a far hill. I decided I wanted to go there and spent the next two hours hiking through a gorgeous, peaceful nature preserve with a view of olive tree orchards and quintessential Italian villas from the very top. I didn't see another soul for all of that time, which was wonderful. I love finding the unique places in cities where you forget entirely where you are. Forget the Duomo, the Uffizi, the Ponte Vecchio, this is by far my favorite part of Firenze...at least in those moments.

Coming down from the hill I assumed I would be pretty lost, but I found my way directly back to the Arno and quickly back to the hotel. I showered and hung all my clothes and then head out into the city for some lunch with Abby and Greg. I had my first true kebab (essentially a Turkish burrito with mystery meat) and it was delicious. We spent some time relaxing and then head out to our favorite restaurant from the other night for Nelo (the bossy, but entirely gregarious owner) and his fabulous pizza. One of the things I love about little restaurants here is if you talk to your server or the owner even for a couple minutes, you are family. Even though we had finished a liter of wine between the three of us already, Nelo would not let us leave until we had a shot of Limoncello, on the house, of course. We had a night cap of gelato and paid our respects to JJ's Cathedral (the heralded American bar), which we found entirely too American...and called it a night.

I'm hopping on a train to Pisa this afternoon. I'll post again when I get to Espana! Ciao Ciao!

Firenze

After arriving in Florence at noon on the 2nd, I spent most of the afternoon relaxing with Abby and Greg in their sweet apartment and fighting off the jet lag. I didn't sleep much on the plane because I was sitting next to this fascinating Yogi from Iran. He spent hours telling me about various levels of human potential, levitation, meditation and the basics, like home-made cheese (he wouldn't touch the airplane food). He was on his way to an Ashram in the Himalayas to study with his Teacher. I told him about the recent chick lit hit Eat, Pray, Love and my fascination with Ashrams. He just smiled. Oh, simple mind. Anyway, I have a hook up in India if any of you want to go. ;)

It has been so fun and relaxing to hang out with "locals" here in Florence. My last tour of Italy was phenomenal, but the 4 day per city tempo lent to a pretty packed schedule and I have been so happy to hang out, stroll about town, visit their favorite eateries and stomping grounds, eat pasta, gelato, walk, rest, and then repeat it all over again a few hours later. :) Last night we hiked up to this incredible view of the city that I somehow missed last time I was here. After that, I convinced them to wander with me for a while until we found a restaurant that was "off the beaten path", should we say? The 45 minute walk proved so worth it as we finally stumbled upon a place with smoked window doors and a non-descript sign "Antica Porta." It was phenomenal. Napoli style pizzas, a liter of wine for 7e, and two desserts later we happily made the hour long trek back to the apartment.

Today Abby and Greg have to move out of the apartment (thank God, their Brazilian roommate has returned from Paris, with drunken early morning antics and all) so we are all moving to a hotel on the Arno. It's amazing how cheap it is on the off-season! I have to make the trip back to the airport to get my bags. They were supposed to deliver them here by yesterday morning (they were lost in Chicago), but when they had not arrived by 3 I started calling the airport incessantly and all they would do was hang up on me! Abby told me it's a right of passage. How I love Italy. ;)


p.s. I have no camera cord, plus, let's face it, I am a terrible camera person...so I stole these. :)