In the past seven days…I have packed up my life, moved 4500 miles across the globe, and, looked out my bedroom window to see the Duomo towering over the city. My city. Yet, I still have so much to see and explore and do. Everything still feels like a daydream, and I think it’s going to take some time until my feet touch the ground (which is good, because cobblestone streets will eat you alive).
My last American morning was spent watching I Love Lucy with my family and my dog. Hi, Riley. I hope they’re feeding you well.
I don’t have cankles, I swear. It’s just that airport lighting, non? Also, the man whose feet you can (unfortunately) see was blasting some serious Snoop Dogg.
What I see when I look out the window every morning, and when I kiss Florence goodnight.
Villa la Pietra.
How I practice Italiano, and how I attempt to convince supermarket clerks I am a native. It always works until they as me if I have some sort of membership card, I am forced to reply “Non capisco,” and they hand me my receipt with a look of contempt.
Lemon trees in the garden…
The Cinema Odeon; a stunning old-fashioned movie theater. Some intense Sex and the City girls’ night action was going down on this particular day. On that note, praise the Lord for creating Alec Baldwin.
Fortunately, Instagram requires that pictures be square, otherwise you would have been able to see my seemingly omnipresent armpit sweat stains. I just adore the sun.
I took a walk across town, over the Ponte Vecchio, and to what is oft dubbed “The Best Pizza in Florence.” It was, to say the least, magical. That’s right. Magical Pizza. Just let that one sink in.
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