Rome was like a hot fast love affair. 

I arrived and immediately fell, I was dazzled by it's passion and mystery. i explored and played in it's age and beauty.

The nights were cool and exciting, it's days were warm and rich with color. I loved the mingling of old and new, the celebration of modern and ancient. I was thrilled to find myself so comfortable in it's rich surrounds so quickly. But all to soon it was over and the love affair had to end.

Now I find myself in Florence. 

Florence is quite different. This seems to be a prearranged relationship. We are slowly getting to know one another, exploring each others quirks and slowly finding ways to celebrate them. Florence is much more subdued, not finding it necessary to reveal it's love and passion all at once. The pace is much slower here, the pulse of the city is not hard and fast as Rome, but quite more controlled and even. But that is not to say that the heart of the city is not passionate, the determined streets are full of artistic touches. And in the evenings when all the tourists have retired to their western hotels, the city allows it's self to breath and relax. The heart of the city is the Dome, you can almost hear the sigh of relief in the evenings when it's stalwarth duties are over for the day.  

Yesterday we went to the markets, amongst the chorus of bartering and different languages we found a small alley that opened up to a market. The rich smells of seafood, the bright colors of local fruit and regional delights met us at the door. As I sit here writing this I eat the most delicious cherries I have ever put into my mouth. 

I think the evenings were are my favorite. The wind picks up and the tired streets are revitalized with energy. You can find on any given street couples  strolling arm and arm whispering beautiful expressions to one another. And I think even the most worn in relationships find them self a bit sentimental when walking along the river at sunset. 

I love all of the street music, it compliments the architecture perfectly. I love being able to follow a sound or a song, Feeling the excitement as the melody grows louder as you follow, not knowing where it is taking you. (one of my favorite feelings)My love for Florence is blossoming. But it's very apparent my  love for Italy is timeless. 

                                              

"I have always relied on the kindness of strangers"

I have been nervous for months about getting the timing of my flight to Rome right. The group I am going with have a very tight schedule on when things are done, and quite often work with the buddy system; I was scheduled to meet up with a young girl from my group, on my flight. The fist indication that my trip was flawed was that I didn't see anyone I knew on my flight. I was flying standby , thanks to a friends pilot father, so i was one of the last ones on the plane. My seat was right behind the first-class section, so I had plenty of room and could even put my feet up. The woman i was sitting next to was delightful, we shared a good laugh when we both admitted that we each brought gummy bears and were a bit embarrassed to bring them out in front of the other prior to the flight.  She was from Texas and reminded me of a distant Aunt i have with a faint spanish accent, and she called me mi-ha.

Joell, that was her name, who lived in Rome for a bit with her air force husband gave me some excellent tips and explained me were to go in the Rome airport. We hugged when we parted and wished each other well. 

 Once in the airport I was so confused as to were to get my bags!  But I heard a distinct  southern drawl coming from around the corner I was standing. I followed the sound and found two southern older ladies. They were dressed like two proper women, wearing a good deal of diamonds and had fancy little holders for every item they owned including matching luggage. I asked them if they knew the airport and if they could help,  they proceeded to ask me were I was coming from and essentially my situation. They blessed my heart, and darlin-ed me all the way  to my baggage and escorted me to the passport line. These two ladies are widowed and do noting but travel, I want to be just like them. They were great! They wished me a good trip, and I was on my way. At this point I was still looking for my group I was scheduled to meet up with and was growing more concerned that I hadn't seen anyone. I exited the passenger area, you know that point were you can't return unless you go through security, and waited. I decided to sit after my sleep deprivation was threatening to knock me off my feet. Shortly a woman wearing airport attire sat next to me, I felt like I should talk to her. I asked, in my broken Italian, if she spoke english. She was from South Africa and her job was to pick people up and escort them to hotels and cruses. She was nice. One thing lead to another and I ended up holding a sign and escorting a group of Catholic Canadians from St. Mary's school to a bus waiting out side. I bid my south african friend a good day and knew it had been long enough. If my group was coming they would be here my now. After sneaking into a restricted area and being busted playing stupid american by a airport guard. I new something was not right. 

I dug through my suitcase to find my itinerary, to reassure myself that this was the day to meet; to my terror I found that I had arrived a day early to Rome! While standing with shock written all over my face, I bumped into a woman who was German but lived in Rome for years. She told me that I should take the bus to a city-center and they would find a hostel I could use for a night. Now why on earth would I use a bus service to choose my sleeping accommodations! With thoughts of bedbugs and STD's dancing through my head I ventured outside the airport to get a taxi. A nice man, who apparently hailed taxi for a living, summoned a driver for me. I decided to just go to the hotel we has reservations with and try to get a room for the night. The driver was confused when I only knew the name of the hotel and not the address. I told him the situation and he said that  I shouldn't even try, that the hotel will be all full (this week the pope is giving some sort of blessing on the city or something) He said he would take me somewhere safe for the night. I had to option but to trust him. Now, my south African friend (that I had met earlier) told me that there is a flat rate of 40 euros to drive from the airport, so i was going to see if he was honest of not. We arrived at a nice little hotel in the heart of rome. It was across the street from the colosseum! It cost 100 euro ($160) The bellman took me up to a quant, elegant room, it was wonderful.  The paintings and chandelier in the room were beautiful and out my window I could open to look at the colosseum and street below. It was enchanting. After putting my bags down and changing clothes I decided to enjoy the city alone. I walked the cobble stone path, having trouble focusing on what was in front of me because i was looking up the whole time. I wondered and stumbled upon the Trevi Fountains, it was huge. I ate gelato on the steps of some local church on a street I found. It was magical, I felt so free; wondering the city alone, only my minimal italian as my guide. I knew that this was one of those events that changes you forever. I felt so alive. 

The morning I took a taxi to the groups hotel, on the ride over i found myself moved to tears completely by beauty. The statues and buildings standing majestically though  in the morning light, the smell of coffee and spring in the air it was all just so moving. 

Rome truly is a magical place, I know I have lost  my heart in Rome! 

My Hotel Room

                                                                                                          

                   

I loved the lighting

The view from my window

Fountain of Trevi

My Italian is like Texas hair; just a little over the top

I am leaving on the 28th of April for a one-and-a-half-month stay in Europe. I will be in Italy for a month, studying fabulous art history. And when my program ends my best gal-pal is meeting me in Venice to discover Spain and Greece. Excitement level= High! But I am also really nervous; I'm afraid I won't fit in.  I want to look like a local, with my name, hair and a little time tanning I think I'll have the look but now I'm working on my accent. A good friend of mine passed along a CD that she found in her chick-fii-a kids meal that teaches you Italian. Seriously! how awesome is that, why hasn't McDonald or other Fatso-Burger places gotten the memo on giving out educational items, instead of sugary trachea blockers for toys!? (that rant is for another time) But this CD is great, it has a bunch of helpful phrases that a visitor to the county could need, such as "help, I need medical assistance" or "can I meet your friend", "what's her phone number". You know, little phrases you could use if you find your self on a pinch, or need to make some side money.  But I am realizing now that my Italian may be just a wee-bit over the top. Well, honestly I sound like Luigi's older whinier mother. I have this CD playing on a loop in my car. So here I am driving down the street each morning around town yelling Italian phrases and gesturing like I leading a choir.  So far I think I'm doing rather well.

I've gone and done it.

For a while now I have been rolling around the idea of creating a blog. I am not a big fan of journaling, and don't fancy myself as a profound or even witty writer. But I have thoughts, and ideas.....and hey, this could be fun. 
The reason I couldn't bring my self to start this little adventure a while ago was, I thought it too pompous to create a site entirely about me and my life. But a friend of mine brought it to my attention that you, as a viewer, can choose weather or not to read my little jots and tittles. So I suppose now the choice is yours...