Relax, Run, Enjoy

Gita, a word that holds adventure of the unknown possibilities. A little trip. One of my favorite words...

A new day brought many new adventures for us, that's for sure. The best part about new days is that there is no knowing what it will bring. The key word for any day is flexibility. The flexibility to just go with whatever the day gives you, especially since the day is always keeping you on your toes and throwing surprises out there. Given this, there is little to do to control it or try to plan to do anything, especially when traveling here in Italy. Just let go and allow the day to show itself, drop those expectations, and enjoy the adventure. Also important to keep in mind that not everything has to be done in one day. While enjoying the ride, though, don't forget to relax, but also to be assertive, maybe even a little pushy, so as not to get lost in the shuffle or miss out on opportunities.

"The only way of catching a train I ever discovered is to miss the train before" ~G.K. Chesterton

I experienced all this on our day trip to Cinque Terre. It was here that we became intimate with the Italian trains, something that hardens you and forces you to think, and run, fast. The trains are not designed for the sluggish or tepid. In order to get where you need to go, its required to commit to it and don't slow down until the doors are closed and you're sitting down, either on the train or on a bench waiting for the next one. The energy at any of the stations we were at was a mixture of thrill, urgency, confusion, anxiety, excitement. The people in the crowds were your competition, battling for a spot on the train. Looking into the eyes of each person, everyone was thinking the same thing, you will not take my spot on that train. No way. We awoke before the sun to get to hop on a train, my first trip departing from the station. We got our tickets, which you just choose the starting point and destination and no specific time on them, and got them validated in one of the little yellow boxes. Once validated, they last for 6 hours, which I later learned is so if you miss a train you don't have to get another ticket, just use the same one. Very important.

"The traveler was active; he went strenuously in search of people, of adventure, of experience" ~Daniel J. Boorstin

The train ride to La Spezia was about two and a half hours, arriving just before 9. From there we connected to Cinque Terre. During the wait for the next train, we got our park passes which included access to all the trails and trains within the 5 towns. Then we joined the throngs of travelers on the platform to board the train. What we didn't know, as we soon learned, was that placement on the platform determines everything. When the train arrived, we realized we were in the exact wrong position, in between the doors, one being 10 feet to the left and another the same distance to the right. As the mob quickly filled the train, it became apparent that the sardine can could not fit even one more desperate passenger. People were crammed, practically hanging out the doors and windows, with us desperately looking back at them from the platform, hoping they would squeeze just a little more so we could cram in. I was caught off guard by how quickly the train filled up and sped away as we were left standing with the few other stragglers in the now deserted station. Luckily, there were many more trains leaving for our destination, so it worked out. We were prepared from then on out for the rest of the day, by the end of which we could be professional train riders.

Cinque Terre. It is difficult to describe this set of little characteristic towns hanging off the coast of the Riviera in northern Italy. And the water. Oh, the water! Rich, pure, serene, salty, refreshing, healthy, and blue blue blue. We made a B-line for the water after the short walk from the first town to the second. Sliding from the harbor into the Mediterranean I was at peace, wishing to stop time for just a little bit so I could enjoy it for a few more moments. I could have spent a lifetime floating in that water…But on to the next town! Each of the towns are connected by the train, or there are trails and paths from one to the next, varying in length and difficulty. So as to get enough time in the last two towns, we decided to take the train from the second town, to the fifth and hike from the fifth to the fourth, skipping the third. We hopped out of the water just in time to realize the train we wanted was full, no surprise, and the next was a ways away. But no worries, we hiked back to the first town and went from there to the last town. It was less than a 10 minute ride.

In the last town, the farthest north, we had lunch and swam again for a bit. On the way to town we passed an accordion player with his scruffy dead-looking dog serenading passersby. Cinque Terre is known not only for the stunning coastline and unique towns, but also their pesto, great seafood and for their "acciughe", anchovies. In honor of that, we ate pizza! I got one with anchovies, capers, and mozzarella and stole a few bites of the pesto one too. Delish! While we were chowing down, we were sitting next to a group of Italians signing and my roommate Janelle was able to practice her sign language skills too! It was so fun to watch! At first, though, she thought she was a little rusty in her fluency, but that was because they were signing in Italian, which has quite a few differences than ASL. Despite this, one of the older men was still able to communicate his fondness for Janelle, without any bashfulness, asking her to run away with him. She declined though, we had more exploring to do!

Each of the towns, unique in their own way, were full of character. The brightly colored buildings. The harbors of equally impressive expression. The tiny little streets that have become a familiar sight around Italy and continue to transport me to another world. The coastline. The deep blue water. The vineyards climbing the steep mountainside. The paths connecting the towns. All this creates an atmosphere of delight, of exploration. The magic of the area's charm reassures me that I will definitely come back here again soon!

From our lunch spot we made a short hike down to the water, skipping the touristy beachy spots where you have to pay for a spot on the sand and opting for the rocky cliffs to jump into the water. There we jumped off the little rocks, explored a little cave, and floated on the surface which was surprisingly easy in the salty water. You almost don't have to even tread the water to stay afloat! The water was so clear and calm and peaceful, being disrupted only by our splashes as we jumped in. It was so clear too. I would have loved to get some diving in. Hopefully on the next trip there! Not wanting to get out, we swam around for a bit. Kristina even showed off her newly found talent of opera singing. The caves had great acoustics too! After a while in the water we reluctantly had to move on to the next town so we could make it back to the station in time. Not surprisingly the regional trains were going on strike that evening, starting at 9pm through the evening the next day, limiting our chances to get back home. Though it wouldn't have been the worst thing to be stuck there a couple days…

As we started the hike from the fifth town, Monterosso, to the fourth, Vernazza, we realized it would be good to know about how long it would take. The others were all less than 20 minutes so we didn't give it much thought. At the trailhead, hikers coming from the other direction were beat red, sweaty, out of breath, and sipping their last few drops of water. I thought, hmmm, how long is this trail? Luckily we had Rick with us (as in Rick Steves' guidebook). I have his "Italy" book and Janelle got the genius idea from her dad to just separate the book from the binding into sections of interest. So we had this little booklet about Cinque Terre that informed us the rough trail takes about an hour and a half from start to finish. This wouldn't have been an issue, but we soon realized that we only had about that amount of time to catch the last train leaving the town and make the connections before the strike started. We debated for a bit whether to quickly hike the trail or walk back to town to leisurely take a train to the other town instead. I was eager to hike the trail, seeing as it is one of the highlights of many who visit there. As more hikers crawled their last few steps, we got a mixture of times of how long it took them, ranging from an hour and a half to three. Later Janelle pointed out that it would have been best to ask those with with actual watches rather than relying on those out of breath, warning us between gasps that it took all day long. Not wanting to neither miss out on the hike or the train home, Kristina and I took off up the trail, with just enough time to book it to the other side and catch the train. A few minutes in, or more like up the seemingly never-ending set of stairs, we realized we only had a few drops of water each left in our bottles of water. Janelle too had used up her water to wash off her feet before she put on her shoes, realizing only later how precious that water would soon be. Those coming down huffin' and puffin' warned us between their breaths what we were in for. But we pushed through. On the way up we sew a man selling lemonade literally out of a stand in the mountainside. As we hurried past he yelled out to us "Ciao ragazze!", hello girls! We had no time to dawdle, though, and whipped by him turning only to yell Ciao back. We had some big ol' stairs to focus on! With each giant step up we were one closer to the top, keeping in mind that it naturally meant the second half would be downhill.

(Pictures were a great excuse to take a breather on the trail)

As we scurried past those causally strolling the trails, the views became more and more impressive. Making our way up the hill, the trail swerved through lush coverings and over little bridges and streams, through vineyards, and on the cliffside. At some points there was only room enough for one person to navigate the skinny trail on the side of the mountain.

Trying to make good time, not being sure of how long the trail really was, we kept a good pace, passing all the slow-pokes to be sure to not lag behind or loose time. At one point there was on older couple moving probably at the pace as snails and taking up the width of the trail. They may have been hearing impaired as well, seeing as they had no idea we wanted to politely push them out of our way…The whole hike, or more like jog, through the vineyards and over the hills was thrilling! As the trail neared the cliffside the view of the water was breathtaking. Looking out at the water it was so peaceful and across the hillsides with vineyards and over to the towns we caught a moment of serenity. Then we continued our speed hike, leaving our footprints in the dust…As a side note, for future reference, bananas are an awful choice of snack for hiking seeing as they don't seem to do well in the bottom of backpacks…

As we rounded a corner, we finally saw the town of Vernazza, our destination. After less than 50 minutes on the trail, Kristina and I made it to town, covered in sweat, dirt, and in search of a water fountain. We then met up with Cameron and Gina at the station, later followed by Janelle, Maggie, and Elsie. Still pumped on making the train in time, we were ready another challenge. Boarding the train. As we waited the few minutes for the train to come through the tunnel, the nerves in each of us built up slowly. Where should we stand on the platform to be by the doors? Who will we have to compete with to squeeze onto the train platform? Will I get left behind again? As we strategically positioned ourselves next to a tour guide (we figured he knew best where doors would be when the train stopped) we met a couple of American women traveling together from Germany; one lived there and her friend joined her on their trip to Italy. They too were ready to charge for the doors as the train stopped. Luckily our plan worked and getting on this time was no problem, for us at least. Once in La Spezia, we had to decide whether to take the earlier train to Pisa, then connect to Florence, or to take the later train straight to Florence. The risk with the second option was the strike that would start at exactly 9pm. We were unsure if the trains would continue their planned route, or just stop wherever they were and leave the passengers to fend for themselves for the rest of their journey. Not wanting to hang out in La Spezia, a few of us debated for a bit and bought tickets for Pisa, which was leaving in the next few minutes; when I got my ticket I realized I only had 2 minutes to board. Maggie got hers right after me. Half the group planned to catch the next train straight to Florence. After I grabbed my change I took off ran across the station,

down the stairs,

through the tunnel,

up to the platform,

looking for the right train.

I saw it.

I heard Janelle lean out a door a ways down yelling out my name.

I got on and started to make my way through the cars.

The lights were off and there wasn't anyone there. I thought, hmmm…everyone must be sitting close to the front. I opened another door, and it was the end of the car!

I was on the wrong train!

I bolted out and ran to the other set, Maggie coming up the stairs to join me as we got on literally just in time, the doors closing on our ankles. We sat down and took a breath. We made it.

But wait!

We didn't validate our tickets! I've heard the fines are pretty steep for not doing so. Then someone told us if we told them as soon as we boarded that we skipped that step, we wouldn't be fined. We set off through the cars in search of someone official looking to sign us off. We couldn't find anyone...They must have started their strike a few hours early… On the train we talked with an older American woman who is living in Lucca for almost 2 months. She gave us tips about the little town between Pisa and Firenze, sharing our excitement of going to new places.

A short while later we got to the Pisa station. By this time we were comfortable knowing how to navigate the stations quickly. We got our tickets to Firenze, remembering to validate them this time, ran to the right track and got on just in time. Our skills that we learned throughout the day definitely payed off in this quick train switch. What an adrenaline rush, and challenge. I kinda felt like I was in some competition of who could figure out which was the right train and get on quickest without being left behind in the crowd. Though I can see how it can be as stressful, I thought it was fun! Exhilarating!

Getting to Firenze was the ultimate reward! We arrived safely before the strike started, home once again. As we were walking through the station, though, there was an older man asking someone for help and clearly not receiving any. After navigating all the stations throughout the day, I asked him if I could help him, feeling confident in my train station knowledge. Graciously he accepted, wanting to buy a ticket before his train left in a few minutes. I showed him the ropes of buying and validating his ticket and dropped him off at his appropriate track. I felt like it was my duty to help him since it is so confusing for newbies. (Not that I wasn't in his place that morning).

After the adventure yesterday, today has been a lazy, blog-writing, relaxing day for sure. It is overcast today, cooling off…It started to rain earlier. I can hear it pattering on the rooftops...thunder in the background...Maybe it will rain through the night…

La Dolce Vita

And so another day ends in this Tuscan city. I came to Italy not knowing quite what to expect. I've had plenty of time beforehand to ponder what it would actually be like. What I have discovered is the absolute sweet joy of everyday life ~ la dolce vita. It is the gift of time, il tempo libero, that Italy seems to have so much of which allows the chance to breath in every moment. This semi-sabbatical experience I am on (seeing as I am fortunate enough to only have my classes and little else) allows me the freedom in time. I am not locked into a schedule, only that of the day's adventure. It seems that this is the way Italians are as well. Even just walking down the street or having a meal is done at a leisurely pace, each moment to last seemingly forever. The pace of life here is something that I can definately get used to.

"Do not dwell on the past. Do not dream of the future. Concentrate the mind on the present moment" ~Buddha

With only one language, race, religion, and culture, Italy's widespread division is unexpected. Their unity as a country is rather recent, though; this year being only their 150th anniversary as a nation. Despite this "unification", the Northerners and the Southerners, the Sienese and Florentines have strong rivalries. Yet the Italians manage their differences with little violence in modern times. With so many different regions, the country has an eclectic flavor, with each region boasting with pride that they are above all others. They have progressed from hating one another to loving to hate one another, a subtle but significant distinction. As cultural engineers, the Italians transform even the fiercest of oppositions into extravagant celebrations of human passion.

This is seen especially in Siena, just south of Firenze. This is where the "Palio" is held biannually. This horserace is what the Sienese community lives for year around. The race is between the 17 "contrade", the different districts in the city. Each contrade is represented by first its horse, then the rider. The rivalries between the districts is intense, filled with bets against one another, alliances, all in the fight for the prize, the honor of winning accompanied by a banner of the Madonna. The riders, though, are not the stars. It is the horses that determine the race. Even if a rider-less horse wins the race first, they are victorious. The horses will join in on the feast with the contrade as well. The celebration of the Palio is enjoyed by everyone in Siena. It is a long standing tradition that the Sienese value dearly; it is not a show for tourists. They take the competition very seriously with each district of the city cheering fiercely for their representing horse and rider, hoping the others will take a tumble or lag behind for just a few precious moments. Even the streets of the city revolve around "Il Campo", the sea-shell-shaped piazza where the race takes place. Most streets lead down to the heart of Siena. The Sienese also have a fierce rivalry with Firenze, dating back hundreds of years. The Florentines and Sienese battled over their loyalty either with the Guelphs or the Ghibellines, those loyal to the Pope or the Holy Roman Empire respectively. The tension between Siena and Firenze is still felt today. Even our professor, a Florentine, boasts about the achievements and successes of his city in comparison to those of Siena. The Italians like being Italian, and more than that, they not only relish in the pride of their country, but it narrows down to their region and even their city. The Florentines love being from Florence and the Sienese would take no pleasure in living anywhere but Siena.

We took a day trip to Monteriggioni, Siena, and the nearby Casa di Machiavelli. Monteriggioni is a very small town trapped in the middle ages as it severed as a defensive fortification for Siena against Firenze. Even today it still has its walls surrounding the city and a feel of traveling back in time. After lunch there we headed to Siena and explored. The Duomo was quite impressive. The day we went was the birthday of the Madonna, a day in which the usually protected floors of the Duomo are uncovered to reveal carvings, mosaics and inlays. From the floors to the walls to the ceilings and pillars, nearly every inch of the interior was ornately decorated. It was extravagant, almost overwhelming to the senses.

“The first condition of understanding a foreign country is to smell it” – Rudyard Kipling

Food, sewer, flowers, dog poop, b-o, smokers, leather; everything that is essential to the city and the culture within it. Well I guess the b-o isn't essential, but possibly just one of side effects of the mixture of really hot-humid weather and the tiny-tiny washing machines (at least in comparison to the deluxe ones in the states). Every other scent, though, helps to explain not only the history of the city, but also the people within it. While walking down the street the nose is continuously assaulted by the mixture of life within them. From the inevitable delightfulness that comes from a nearby kitchen or from a gelateria making fresh waffle cones, food is by far the most pleasant encounter. It is a expression of the pride Italians rightfully have of their culinary expertise. This will ultimately be overcome, sadly, by the intense body odor of someone who either is embracing their European-ness, does not know what deodorant is, or just hates doing laundry. The last excuse is understandable as I have come to learn. But I never quite expect the shocking stench that seems to waft off passersby all too commonly. Another unpleasant encounter is with the sewer. No description is needed here, but seriously, it concerns me a little. I would rather just enjoy being suddenly surrounded by the warm aroma of freshly baked bread or the girasoli, giant sunflowers, of a flower stand, while wandering the streets instead of being reminded that, yes, this city, as well as the plumbing, has been around for hundreds of years.

"Italy is not to be domesticated or made familiar. Italy remains intransigently foreign, exotic, a continuing revelation of strangeness and unexpected beauties"

If I had a daily food journal it would probably look something like starting my day with fruit, eggs and un caffè, then a panino, bread and cheese, maybe a caprese salad, followed by pasta and veggies with more bread. And of course gelato throughout. Oh, and anything with nutella too.

Noticeable fashion crazes:

Birkenstocks. Everyone of all ages loves these things, guys and girls; they all wear birks in every style possible.

Aladdin pants. They look super comfy.

A lot of girls wear jeans that look normal at first, but then you notice that they're super baggy. They fit the waist but the crotch area is crazy big, then they're normal again. Personally, I'm not too sure about those.

Uncommon food items: peanut butter, chocolate milk, milk in any size larger than a liter is nonexistent, bread made with salt, syrup (we sadly found this out when we made breakfast for dinner. Instead we used nutella, like true Italians, to top our french toast), and I haven't seen any popcorn yet.

Common food items: figs (they're just ending their season), cinghiale (wild boar), fegato (liver), mandorline (almonds), and of course nutella, pastas of all kinds, gelato, pizza, cheeses, all that good stuff.

As explained by Refugio (the go-to program leader who knows what seems like nearly everything we need to know about anything while we're here) the graffiti in Firenze is motivated either by emotional or political intentions. It's non uncommon to see multiple anarchist symbols within a few blocks joined by professions of love. And there is quite a bit of this throughout the city.

"Chi vuole essere felice lo sia: del futuro no c’è certezza" - Lorenzo de' Medici

The world sees in Italy a sense of beauty; beauty of landscape, beauty of learning, beauty of human romance, beauty of art and architecture, beauty of history. All these ideas are expressed somewhere or other in every aspect of Firenze, from the winding streets to the trattorie (little restaurants), from the cobblestone streets to those hot Italian men I'd been looking forward to oogling at! ;) And part of Italy's beauty comes from the depth of the culture and of history, and from the mixture of the past within the present. This differs so much from growing up in California, which is absolutely beautiful as well, but in a much different way. Italy is a country layered densely, contradicting itself at every corner. When looking around the city, you see the history of hundreds of years still alive in the streets; modernity and antiquity melded together. The past is gone, but the pieces of time are everywhere yo look. This layering makes Italy so filling...though that could be the pasta and gelato too...

I thought I had found my favorite gelato flavor the other day, the best out there. I was convinced, really. Then it happened. I found the REAL best flavor. It came out of nowhere too. I strolled in thinking I knew exactly what was up and I would order my fichi gelato (fig) with another new flavor. Then I saw it. Jamaican Dream. And oh how heavenly it was! Chocolate and coffee. The two things that I love most in the world mixed together by the best gelato creator, Jon Paul. I thought okay I'll taste that and see what it's like and when I did I wasn't expecting to find my new favorite. (Though Jon Paul warned us he ate it everyday for a month straight). I'll definitely be following in his footsteps.

Vorrei una cuppa da fichi e Jamaican Dream per favore!

Fig and chocolate/coffee gelato for the walk home from school

The weather here is a little more extreme than back in San Diego, that's for sure. By the afternoon the combination of heat and humidity leaves me completely drained, but luckily Italians love their afternoons to close down everything and just relax. I've found that I have A LOT of spare time not having a job and only have 1 class for now. Walks around the neighborhood never fail to be wonderful and less and less exhausting. My legs aren't sore anymore, a relief! It's absolutely amazing to have the time to just breath in and to not have a schedule to keep or deadline to meet. It's a free feeling that I can definitely get used to. I'm going to be a professional traveler slash gelato eater. It's decided. As for the weather here, it's started to cool down a bit compared to the first week, even a little rain came through.

This column represents a tree that once stood there. A saint, after his death, was being transferred from San Lorenzo to the cathedral and his coffin brushed up against a dying tree. Soon after, the tree then came back to life, flowers miraculously blossoming. Believers began to take pieces of the tree as relics of the power of the Saint. The tree soon died for good because of this, but the column was put in its place in remembrance.

Every last Tuesday in the month, the museums are free to the public in the evenings. We went to The Uffizi to see Botticelli's The Birth of Venus. The Uffizi building was constructed in 1560 for governmental offices of the time, but today holds works of art collected and donated by the Medici family during their centuries of rule. Most of the works are on the top floor, protected from flooding from the nearby Arno. My favorite was "Sei Poeti Toascani" by Visari, a painting of Dante and Cavalcanti because I learned about them in one of my Italian literature classes. (We couldn't take pictures but here's what it looks like).

The amount of art in the Uffizi was impressive. All over Firenze, in fact, the history of the culture is inescapable. Another interesting thing that I'll have to get used to while living here is doing laundry…I thought I had it hard in San Diego scrounging around in the couch or digging in the black hole of a purse for quarters everyday and then once collecting enough of the treasured coins fighting for a turn in the communal washing machine, but man do I wish I could go back to that. We have a washer in our apartment here (one step up from San Diego) and a clothesline for drying. Even though this is completely normal, we had quite the time today trying it out. Our landlord had showed us what buttons of the hundreds to push and he even deciphered the hieroglyphic pictures next to them for us before we moved in. My roommates took a shot at it and threw in a load one morning, but ended up taking turns washing everything in the sinks after flooding the kitchen. We might have to look into an alternative to that...

“If you reject the food, ignore the customs, fear the religion and avoid the people, you might better stay at home.” – James Michener

Ponte Vecchio

In the past week we've had lots of paperwork to fill out. We all had to go to the Questura (the police) to get our permesso di soggiorno and a codice fiscale to live here and it wasn't as frightful as I was expecting. Just some paperwork to get out of the way. Another experience was the Mercato Centrale, my new favorite place to get fresh fruits and veggies, cheese, bread, and meats. All the important things! They also have a little caffè with delish coffee. There are a few big markets throughout the city like this. Very fun! The produce is so fresh here it makes my mouth water even before it hits the chef's pan, which in this case Janelle's, my roommate. She hasn't failed at whipping up something yummy with just a few ingredients the past few nights. Most recently she made pasta with a creamy pesto sauce. I'm all signed up for her cooking class which will take place in our kitchen nightly!

On Sunday morning we headed across the street to the Basilica of San Lorenzo. As one of the largest churches in Florence (consecrated in 393) and in the main market district, it is also the burial place of all the principle Medici family members. We attended the morning mass which was an intimate look into the customs of the church; there was maybe only a couple dozen people there.

While I'm very much looking forward to improving my Italian, I am, at the same time anxious about making mistakes and looking foolish, or worse being pinpointed as American. I haven't quite figured out the attitude Florentines have towards Americans. Right now I think we are clumped together with all the other throngs of tourists. Once I tell someone I'm living here, though, they brighten and are so excited for me and let me in on their little secrets. It's even better if I practice my Italian on them too.

"Almost always when speaking non-English-speaking Italians met in the course of a day's activities discover you Italian is not fluent, they (unlike Parisians) exhibit no contempt and happily hear you out as you mangle their beautiful language. But when they speak in return, they give no quarter; faster and faster they go. Is this the Italian equivalent of Americans speaking louder and slower to foreign-speaking people? What it probably means is that it is utterly incomprehensible to them that anyone cannot understand their language"~Barbara Grizzuti Harrison

The streets are crowded, the mosquitos are out, the architecture is breathtaking, the water is warm, the fridges are small; there are bikes, vespas, buses, and people everywhere; nothing is open, graffiti plasters the streets; the language, art, and people are amazing; and the food is ridiculous, not to mention the gelato at every corner- all of this creates a city that is full of life and possibilities. The thing about Italy is that is is never dull. In the reputation as in the landscape, in the past as in the present, in the idea of it as in the reality.

Legend has it that if you and your loved one attach a padlock anywhere on the bridge then throw the key into Il Fiume Arno, your love will last forever. (Though due to the damage it has caused, there are hefty fines for doing so) These days, lovers simply touch any remaining locks that have not been removed. The luck that has kept them there perhaps will rub off on the hopeful couple as well.

Sono Arrivata!

“There are no foreign lands. It is the traveler only who is foreign.” – Robert Louis Stevenson

This is going to be a long one since I was internet-less for a while. Since I have been in Firenze I have moved into my apartment, started a class, and gotten to know the city pretty well. It's great to get to know everyone else studying here too since we're all experiencing this together and everyone is really excited to explore and travel around. So when I first got here I started writing, but like I said I couldn't post it. Here it is though, to catch you up:

I was so happy to be on that plane headed to Italy, it was a long wait until that moment. Though no matter how excited I was, as soon as the flight started I was ready for the next 11 hours to be over and to be off the plane, but luckily the endless wine helped time pass a little quicker.

I flew into Zurich, Switzerland and got my first European passport stamp! Alright! Flying into Zurich was absolutely breathtaking because the hillsides were beautiful, green hills all over. It was a great start to my European exposure. I was half expecting to see Heidi to be skipping down them. The rolling hills had little swiss houses scattered about, surrounded by clusters of forests and rivers all over.
My first night in Europe I joined the groups of other 20-somethings sprawled out across the airport chairs and floor. The best part was that none of the seats in the Zurich airport have armrests so I was able to snag a set that made a great bed. We all made our own diverse little community of low budget travelers, some starting their journeys with anticipation and others sharing their favorite they've been to. Some were prepared with mats and pillows (I myself took the blanket from the plane) and we all were willing ourselves to sleep. I had the first flight out to Florence and it was comical to watch the airport wake up. The freshly showered and well rested airport employees began filing in, starting their day at work, tip-toeing around the sleeping travelers.
I arrived in Firenze in mid-morning, so happy to be done with airports! I met some other girls in the program and we hopped in a taxi to the place we're staying for the first week, until everyone finds an apartment or room.

Walking around Firenze is hard to describe, and there is a lot of it (walking that is). Firenze is a pretty small city, but when your feet are the only transportation, it can seem ten times bigger. Before I came I was warned of how much walking I'll do. I thought oh, yeah for sure I'd be fine walking everywhere, but man are my legs tired! It's great though because I've gotten to see a lot of the city.

Over the first few days, I've really only been trying to find a place to live. Looking at apartments and hoping that I'll find one! It's been fun to see a bunch of different ones, though, because there is a great variety in the style, modernity, and furniture (almost all of them are furnished). They each have a lot of their own character too. One that comes to mind had a 20ish foot ceiling with a mural and crown molding all around, it was pretty impressive. All the buildings in the city are 5 stories, and to get into them you have to ring a buzzer. Another cool thing is the doors to most of the buildings, they're all really tall (maybe 15 feet high), with various intricate frames and door knockers.

So with the tall buildings and narrow winding streets, it's really easy to get lost. Over the past few days, though, I've gotten familiar with some of the city, like I said it's pretty small. But it's hard to find a point of reference when walking through the streets since you can't see very far. But that's also pretty awesome because you can take in what's right around you and notice the little details.

One of my favorite legends so far is of the Palazzo Grifoni. The top floor window (On the right) always has the shutters partly open to see the piazza below. The story is that a few centuries ago a young woman in love marries a son of teh Grifoni family, who soon after goes to war with other noble families of Firenze. Her heart aching for him, she sits at her window and awaits his return. Everyday she does this with the shutter cracked to see out, but he never returns. She dies years later in that room and her family says that when the shutters were closed, she haunted the room. To settle her spirit, the shutter on the window she looked out of stays open for her for a view of the piazza below.