Florence for Dummies

    My little brother just graduated from high school yesterday. And I think I have officially become the "you're growing up too fast" adult every time I think about how grown-up he has become. Yikes. I can feel the "well, back in my day" and "young people these days" adult lurking right around the corner.

   I get to see him and my family in a few days, which is really exciting because I haven't had someone to torment in far too long and I am terrified of loosing my edge, ya know? I need my little brother back so we can continue our usual bickering and bantering. Life gets quite boring without it.

   In preparation for his first time in Florence, he has been asking me about what he should and shouldn't pack for our adventuring together, which has got me thinking. What should Americans know before they leave America and visit Italy, or more specifically, before they come to Florence..?

So... here are a few insider tips and tricks on how to do Florence, Italy like a pro:

1) When asked if you're an American, either put on your best British accent or just claim you're from Canada. Trust me when I say it makes life a teensy bit easier.

2.) If you want the good, authentic gelato, stay away from the stores that sell it in giant piles for high
prices, like this:

What you really want is super cheap gelato that comes in tins that look like this: 

3.) This plays well into my next tidbit: when looking for good Italian snacks and pastries, generally, the cheaper they are, the better and more authentic  they will taste. 

4.) Wearing shorts, neon colors, or white sneakers and sandals will mark you as a tourist almost immediately. Italians rarely wear shorts. They prefer wearing black and darker colors, and white sneakers/ sandals are just very American looking for some odd reason. 

5.) No matter what you do, or how hard you try not to, you will probably look like a tourist, so please go ahead and take photos of everything. You're not gonna want to forget this experience. 

6.) Get super lost and not sure where to go?? Look up and try to find the Cathedral de Santa Maria del Fiore (also known as the Duomo), which looks like this: 

                                

It is the tallest building in Florence and serves as an excellent reference point to help you find your way back to where you need to be. 

7.) Speaking of the Duomo, the closer you get to it, the more expensive everything will get, because it is the most 'touristy' spot in Florence. Try wandering away from it if you feel a little adventurous. Chances are you'll find places that are just as good, and a little less expensive. 

8.) When you go to restaurants, expect to get the entire meal put on one check. It is not customary for Italians to have restaurants split up their checks. Your server will most likely just lump it all together and leave it to you to decide who pays for the entire meal. So be prepared with cash, Splitwise, or Venmo to pay each other back for your meals. 

9.) Want to avoid the long lines for museums? Try to get to museums and galleries earlier than they open, or visit them on Tuesdays and Thursdays- the lines generally aren't as long then for some reason. (Also April- August is peak tourist season). 

10.) Buongiorno/ Ciao is 'hello'

        Ciao/ Arrivederci is 'goodbye' 

         Grazie is 'thank you' 

           Permesso is 'excuse me' 

            Dove is 'where is' 

Hope this proves helpful should you ever find yourself in Florence, or in Italy!! 

--Leah 

The Power of the Artist

    I probably should have finished this post a few weeks ago, but even when bouncing around the world, procrastination still proves to be a constant companion.

    There are many words that one could use to describe an artist- a reclusive hermit, a strange character, creative genius, unpredictable and uncontrollable... and now, after this semester, I have one more synonym to add to that list: cross-cultural socialite.

    Being an artist means having powers that could rival Iron Man, Captain America, or any of Stan Lee's creations (in my humble opinion). Artists bring any vision, any intangible thought, to life. They  shape the lenses through which the world is seen. They can shift public opinion, move the heart, and communicate across generations and continents. And, as I have now learned, they can connect with any person, regardless of cultural background, age, ethnicity, or gender, without saying a single word. Artists, I have found, are almost entirely immune to the normal social restraints that govern every day life. They do not need to be fluent in any language, native to any land, or devout to any religion, in order to connect with the people around them. They simply need to begin creating something.

   There are many seemingly insurmountable challenges that travelers face when visiting or living in another land. I would be so bold as to claim that language barrier is one of the most difficult of those challenges to overcome. If you do not speak or understand the local language, you are always one step behind, always on the outside of the circle. And that is quite an ostracizing feeling.

    But... when you are an artist, the only language you need be fluent in is that of creation. You see, I have found that people, no matter their background or genetic makeup, no matter their ethnicity, religion, gender, or age, are drawn to artists like my dog is drawn to chocolate cake (bless his little pudgy heart).

    Over the course of this semester, I have had the opportunity to wander around Florence and sketch different things that have caught my eye. I'd like to think that I am creating a "visual journal" of sorts. And in the process of working on this journal, I've discovered the cross-cultural power that comes with being an artist. The more I drew, the more people I met from all walks of life.  In fact, whenever I'd get lonely, I'd just grab my sketchbook and go find something to draw, fully expecting to make a friend or two in the process. According to my notes, I met over 25 people, hailing from Kenya, Russia, Korea, India, and all  other corners of the globe. It was quite an interesting phenomenon, one which I fully intend on capitalizing on as I continue pursuing the artistic path.

Below are photos of some of the things that I've done this semester and a brief description of who I met while working on that piece. Hope yall enjoy!

Watercolor painting of The Apennine Colossus by Giambologna- While painting this, I met an adorable little girl name Margherita. In my limited Italian (and her speaking only Italian) she told me that she was five years old, lived in Florence, and loved to paint. She watched me paint for almost twenty minutes, later introducing me to her family as her artist friend from America. 

Sketch of the statue of Christ and St. Thomas by Verrochio- I met a young Italian named Michele who was studying sculpture at a school very close by. He luckily spoke English fluently and told me all about the history of the sculpture and the sculptor, who happened to be one of his favorites.

Sketches from the Bargello museum- I met a young couple while sketching here- the husband was from Russia and the wife was from France. they had been visiting Florence for the week and lived together in Russia. 

Sketch of Michaelangelo's 'Prisoners' and watercolor of Saint Barbara- I met a couple from Dubai, India- the wife had studied art when she went to university and this was their first time visiting Florence. 

Watercolor of Palazzo Vecchio and Piazza della Signoria- I met a spunky old Italian man named Nikolai who didn't speak a lick of English. He counted every window that I drew, every statue, every pillar, making sure that I had correctly depicted each building. Only once I had made his suggested modifications did he pronounce it "bellisima" (beautiful). 

On Being a Woman

   
    Young, old, tall, short, curvy and slender-- women of all kinds are traveling more than ever in this age of female empowerment and opportunity (YAASSSS LADIES). And this concept has received quite a bit of attention from the media, in both positive and negative ways. We now read and hear stories of both strength and horror, hope and pain. As a single, female, white, American traveler, I have pretty immediately encountered an interesting dynamic while adventuring alone. One one side of the equation, there is this fierce desire for independence, change, and freedom-- a chance to prove to yourself and to the rest of the world that you are strong/capable enough to take care of yourself out there. On the other side, there is quite a bit of fear, worry, anxiety, and overzealous preparation for any possible catastrophe. It's exhausting.

   Traveling abroad alone, I spend an equal amount of time with both sides. Part of me is ready to take on the world, meet new people, and prove that I am stronger than the sexism, the harassment, the discouragement. However, another part of me leaves my little Florentine apartment everyday quietly wondering if today will be the day that I am the unfortunate woman announced missing on national news because the wrong people noticed me. Just the other day, the New York Times published an article on single female travelers that, while very informative, definitely contributed to that night's bad sleep.

    To be completely honest, being a young woman makes my traveling experiences both extremely challenging/ stressful, but also rewarding/ unique. I have yet to decide whether that is a good or bad thing. I don't have any super deep observations to make in this post, but rather, I just wanted to share with you all a little bit of my personal experiences traveling as a young woman abroad.

(Keep in mind that all the experiences and thoughts below are also strongly impacted by my race, my age, my ethnicity, how I look, how I speak, etc. etc. etc- i.e: these things haven't just happened because of my gender/sex)
(Also, I am only speaking from my perspective and my point of view- every single person has their own perspectives on the things I talk about below)


1.)  Men and woman in general find it easier to interact with me and my girlfriends than with my guy friends, which obviously has its pros and cons.

    When traveling, or when walking around Florence, I do receive a lot of attention. and most of it is usually not wanted. I cannot tell you all how many times I have been whistled at, cat-called, and followed. I have gotten very good at ignoring the comments, or putting on as mean a face as I can, in the hopes that I won't be noticed or called out. It's pretty tiring to deal with day in and day out. There are times when men will just come up to me and pester me with random questions, not caring to consider if they are interrupting something I am doing or if I don't actually want to talk to them (what a shocking concept). My friends and I are often stopped by guys asking us questions about ourselves,  irregardless of what we might be doing at that time, and will not leave until we either give them answers or run from them (which we have done a few times- ya girl could be a track star soon). I've started to develop a pretty convincing fake identity whenever I am approached by random men (my alter ego's name is Lauren. She's from Ottawa, Canada and she has a boyfriend in the Navy Seals--it works like a charm every time).

    On the bright side, I feel that being a young woman with my kind of personality (because not every woman is like me obviously) makes me a much more approachable person, and that has resulted in some extremely fascinating and wonderful interactions. I have met so many new people partly because they are comfortable enough to approach and talk to me. Being a woman gives me an advantage when meeting people, women specifically. If I was a man, I don't think that I would have met Beatrice from Spain, a couple from India, or a mother and daughter from Asia.


2.) Traveling abroad as a young woman makes you extra cautious.

    This is both exhausting and rewarding. Being a young woman, I am EXTREMELY aware of what bad things could happen to me at any moment. My friends and I spend so much time planning out preventative measures before we go anywhere. We are constantly watching over each other, making sure that no one travels alone, having check-in buddies, etc. etc. There are things we think about that our male peers (generally) don't even consider.  And it is so exhausting. It honestly feels like a full-time job trying to make sure you are safe when you travel.  There should be SO MANY more women in the security/protection work force because most women are experts by the time they're fifteen lol.

    But being extra sensitive to safety issues also means that I am...well... extra safe. Or at least as safe as I can possibly be within my own power.


3.) Adventuring alone teaches you how to be brave.

    You ever heard that phrase "strong, independent woman"? Well-whoever you are- if you want to become one, an excellent way to do so is to travel alone, because you are forced to become one quickly. I have been a push-over for a good part of my life- someone who wants to keep everyone happy, even if at the cost of my own comfort. After this study abroad experience, I don't think that's as much the case any more. I don't worry so much about some random man's feelings if I  tell him to get the heck away from me. I am more vocal now about what makes me uncomfortable. I have learned to advocate for myself more, because if I didn't learn it, safety would be much more challenging. These lessons would probably have not been learned quite so early in life if I had not started traveling alone.


4.) There is more pressure on women to blend in to the culture.

   I have noticed, both in comments by my Italian friends and in actions of vendors and locals here that women are much more pressured to conform to their respective culture's standards than men are. A friend of mine from Ukraine, for example, told me of a time a street vendor tossed a 5 cent coin at her, stating she was barely worth that much money because of how shamefully she presented herself (she was wearing a skirt to her knees). When I am traveling, it is generally for my own safety and peace-of-mind that I try to dress and adhere as closely to the culture as possible.

    Having such external pressure to blend into the culture can be a positive thing, however, in that it makes it much easier to begin to acclimate to your new surroundings and make friends. If I were to behave in my fully-American way here in Italy, I don't think that I would have met nearly so many Italians. Having that kind of pressure forces me to become more culturally aware.



     There are honestly so many more observations and stories I could put down here, but the top four are the most prominent experiences that I have had this semester. What I have experienced abroad will probably be extremely different from what a woman of color or an older woman might experience while traveling alone. I don't speak for every woman, just from my own perspective.             Traveling alone is really scary sometimes. And that fear can make it exhausting: you are on edge every hour of every day. Reading about the sexual assaults, kidnappings, and murders of female travelers doesn't make that fear any less at all. But, as with most things in life, fear cannot be stronger than willpower, or else life is not lived to the fullest. I would not be growing so much, meeting such interesting people, or seeing the beauty of this earth if I let that worry be all-consuming. I just felt like giving ya'll my take on the matter.

Until next time,
Leah


 
 
 

'Ugly' Churches and New Friends

    There are three things in life that you apparently cannot escape:

          Death 

          Taxes

          John Denver 

    Y'all. This blessed man haunts me wherever I go. I literally flew across the Atlantic Ocean to escape his deceptively soothing serenade. His Mountain Mamma ballad has bedeviled my every footstep since coming to Europe. I am not exaggerating when I say that in EVERY SINGLE COUNTRY that I have visited thus far, I have heard "Country Roads" at LEAST once. When I tell people I am from West Virginia, they actually know where I am talking about because of that blessed song. When I go to a bar, guess which tune always makes the queue?

      And how do I feel about this unexpected situation..? Well... conflicted. At first, there was anger. Then annoyance. And now, resignation and acceptance (with perhaps a *tinge* of homesickness mixed in there). I just thought I'd update you on the situation in Europe. 

    Things here have been going wonderfully. I am getting fat n' happy on gelato and croissants. But I am not here today to write about my food-ventures. I wanted to share a little bit about Spring Break! A week ago, eight of us hopped over to Barcelona, Spain for break. With a full itinerary and an empty bank account, we spent the week exploring as much that beautiful city as we could. We had the opportunity to visit some pretty breathtaking sites, including Park Guell (a park for rich people designed by Antoni Gaudi that reminded me of a real life Dr. Seuss world), Monserrat (a beautiful monastery at the top of a big mountain), and the Pablo Picasso Museum. But I wanted to tell you about two experiences I had over break that really changed my outlook on may different aspects of my life and that I hope you will find as powerful and intriguing as I did.

(Park Guell Building) 

    La Sagrada Familia:

     Below are photos of La Sagrada Familia, an unfinished Roman Catholic Church designed by Catalan architect Antonin Gaudi. I say unfinished because this church has literally been under construction for over a century. And you can really see that on the facade of the church. The architectural styles on different parts of the building contrast so starkly against each other, vividly depicting each artistic age that they were constructed during. What struck me about this church, however, was that it was probably one of the ugliest and yet most beautiful churches I think I have seen here in Europe. The oldest part of the church--designed by Gaudi-- is, in my very humble opinion, a mess. It literally looks like someone took a blowtorch and melted the marble. I mean, come on Gaudi, what were you doing? (To all the Gaudi lovers out there, sorry not sorry)

(Yikes) 

    I was mentally preparing myself for what I assumed would be a similar mess on the inside of the church, which explains why I was so utterly shocked upon entering it. The inside of La Sagrada Familia was simply breathtaking. Its clean, crisp white marble pillars were splashed with impossibly vibrant colors created by sunlight seeping through stained glass windows on all sides of the church. It made me feel as though I had stepped into a massive kaleidoscope. The painter in me practically fainted every time I looked at a window. 

 

                                         

 

    New Friend:

    A few days after La Sagrada Familia, we decided to spend a peaceful day at the beach. It soon became quite evident that such a day might not be possible, as the beach was filled with vendors selling all kinds of wares: rugs, blankets, towels, drinks, snacks, and toys. It was like a portable Dollar General. 

    Later that day, I decided to get some sketching done while the rest of my friends grabbed lunch. I sat on my towel and worked on unfinished drawings in my sketchbook for a bit, soon noticing that someone was watching me draw. I looked behind my shoulder and noticed one of those vendors standing nearby, looking over my shoulder at my sketchbook. Now, its not unusual for people to come up and watch me draw (that is a whole other blog post, I can't wait to tell y'all about it), so I just kept working, hoping he wouldn't try to sell me anything. After five minutes or so, he spoke up, complementing my sketches and asking me how I had captured the shapes and shadows. He admitted that he was also an artist,  yet he struggled to accurately depict his subjects on paper. The conversation flowed on like a river from there. 

    We talked about SO many things y'all it was SO COOL.  This man had been working in Spain for the past three months as a street vendor. He used to own a leather market back home in Pakistan, but business became bad due to a rising demand for more synthetic materials, so he had moved to Italy to look for work instead. After spending six months in Italy, he bounced to Germany, and finally landed in Spain. When I asked him what he thought about Americans, he told me that they were some of his favorite tourists because of how friendly and open-minded they were. He told me that they generally treated him with the most respect when he was selling things. (Brownie points for America WOO). I asked him how he felt about being a vendor in a foreign land, if he found his job to be particularly challenging or not. He replied that yes, his job was very difficult, specifically because of how he was treated by people as an A.) street vender, and B.) Middle-Eastern, Muslim man. Sometimes, people would treat him politely.  If he approached, they would simply say no thank you. But other times, people would treat him with unbelievable rudeness, even going so far as to yell at and chase him. Yet, despite such treatment, he calmly declared that he loved the life he was living, and he loved the job he had. 

    Then the conversation turned to more existential matters. We talked about the pursuit of money and how quickly it could steal joy from your life. We talked about the different interactions we have both had with racism in our respective cultures and backgrounds. I told him more about West Virginia and he told me about Pakistan. My favorite topic was on friendship. "You see," he stated, "friends are like stones and diamonds. Some friends in your life are stones- ugly, heavy, and inconvenient. When you carry them around, they simply make life heavier. Other friends, however, are like diamonds. They are beautiful, precious, enriching, and very very rare. You treasure those diamonds when you find them and keep them close to your heart." (How many stones and diamonds do you all have in your life?)

   I mean... y'all... IT WAS SO COOL. I'm geeking out just thinking about this: a girl from Philippi, West Virginia having a deep conversation with a dude from Pakistan on the sandy beaches of Barcelona, Spain. It doesn't get more intercultural than that. 

    The two experiences I described taught me some pretty basic, and necessary, life lessons. The most prominent of them was this: 

If you take things at face value and immediately accept the bias that you have without questioning it, you will lose out on SO MANY opportunities. Stepping back, acknowledging your bias, but choosing to instead examine more deeply the situation at hand can open countless new doors. 

  Barcelona was absolutely breathtaking, and I have so many more stories that I wish I could tell you, but that's too much writing and I'm lazy. So for now, I'm logging off. I miss you all. Every day is tinged with a bit of homesickness, but life is good regardless!

Arrivederci a tutti!
Leah

On Italian Culture

   Let's discuss the art of puzzling (puzzle construction) for a moment. There are many different kinds of puzzles, coming in all varieties of shapes, sizes, and challenges. Some are intended for newly born toddlers and others make you miss the days when you were one yourself. Puzzling, I've discovered, also makes an excellent metaphor for visiting a new culture. 

    Say you decided to challenge yourself by putting together a million-piece puzzle. If you only give yourself three days, or even a week to try to figure out this puzzle, you may begin to experience the same anxiety that Democratic and Republican politicians feel when forced to make adult-y decisions together. It's an impossible task. And what little you manage to piece together in that short time, while pleasant to look at, doesn't show you the whole picture. If you give yourself, however, a month, a year, or even longer to put together those millions of pieces, your final product becomes much more complete and much less overwhelming. It may take you quite a long time to find each piece's partner. There may be days when you don't think you'll ever understand what picture those million pieces are going to make. There may be days when those elusive pieces finally fill in the gaps you gave up trying to complete.  But, if you allow yourself the time and the patience to figure it all out, something beautiful is produced. Living in a new culture is quite the same experience. 

   I have only lived in Italy for around two months, but I'd like to think that my short time here has allowed me to complete the top right corner of the Italian-culture puzzle (that's my favorite corner of a puzzle). And I am loving the picture that is beginning to appear.

Disclaimer: I am not an expert on Italian culture, nor are my observations applicable to every single region or person of Italy. These are just things that I have noticed through my young, white, female, American lens, about this culture that I absolutely love and wanted to share with y'all. 

    Italians are an extremely passionate, proud people, on many number of topics, the most important  of which includes their home region and their food. Most Italians will tell you that a "Make Italy Great Again" mantra isn't going to be very popular throughout the country. Instead, you might find a "Make Firenze/ Roma/ Sicily Great Again" phrase instead. There is a strong pride in one's region and a strong distrust, dislike, or even disdain for Italians from other regions of the nation. I find this  fascinating, especially considering that I come from a country that pushes national pride into its children from the first day of pre-school. One thing that unites most of Italy together, however, is their love, and consumption, of food and drink. A regular Florentine day allows time for at least 4-5 meals of various sizes, and a traditional Italian dinner consists of five courses. I am taking a cooking class here (shockingly enough, nothing important has been burned, chopped, or poisoned yet!) and have learned to give the same respect to the art of Italian cuisine that I would to painting or drawing. Each meal, when prepared properly and with passion, is truly a work of art. When paired with the perfect beverage, it will make the tastebuds soar with the angels. 

     I have found Italian, or at least Florentine-Italians, to be quite friendly and welcoming, especially when I try to speak (and usually butcher) their language. They have often stopped their day to patiently help my stumbling tongue figure out a word or phrase. As a woman, I can't smile at people I pass in the street/accidentally make eye contact with, as I would at home, because that generally gets me into trouble. And as with most cities, people here can brush and push past you if you get in their way. But, when personally interacting with people in Italy, I am usually met with an Italian version of Southern Hospitality. There has been more than one instance when my friends and I have received free desserts/ wines/ and other treats from restaurants because the staff took a liking to us (definitely going to miss those free treats when I come home). One downside to such friendliness, according to a few of my Italian friends, is that Italians are generally much less confrontational than is good for them, often looking for a way to skirt around a problem until it gets too bad to ignore.

    My absolute favorite aspect of Italian culture, something that I hope desperately to bring home with me, is the slow, meandering pace of life here. Not very many things are rushed in Italy, (except perhaps their language, which could put any rapper to shame). Dinner is usually a three hour affair at least and one can spend hours upon hours doing nothing but sipping coffee and reading a good novel without feeling an ounce of guilt. As with any wine or cheese, the longer you rest, the better you turn out. 

    As much as I love American culture, there are certain aspects--its push for constant speed, its rewarding of complete burnout, and its guilt-tripping of those at rest-- that I will always despise. My mental health hasn't felt this good in a long while, being less frazzled, worried, and stressed, since living here. A day spent wandering museums, sipping wine, and chatting with a friend is a day well spent. Now granted... a leisurely life-pace can often produce less than desirable results in productivity. Not much gets done around here, as my Florentine friends have often complained. "That is why", they explained, "Italy is so well preserved. It's because no one ever got up enough desire or energy to change anything!"  Yet I still LOVE the idea of existing completely guilt free in rest. Usually back home, the only times I ever truly rest is when my body stops functioning and sickness takes the reigns. How unbelievably toxic to assume that one can only attain happiness and fulfillment if one is working and busy all of the time. (Again, I am speaking from my own perspective and experiences from home, I know that not all of American culture applies). I love it here. Heaven help me when I come back to college with that slow, relaxed Italian mindset. Yikes. 

    Spring break is fast approaching and I will be spending all of next week in Barcelona! You best believe I fully plan to roast on whatever Spanish beach is closest to us. I hope you all are doing well!

Arrivederci, 

      Leah 

P.S. The photos you are about to see have not been altered or photoshopped in any way at all. I'll be honest, when I saw this sunset I kiiinnddaaa had a little bit of tears in my eyes. The sky from San Miniato Church never fails to disappoint. What an honor to see this masterpiece in real-time.

Busy Weekends --> Empty Bank

   
     It's definitely been a jam packed few weeks. I accidentally set off the fire alarm in our apartment for the third time (amazing culinary skills right here), visited Switzerland, Slovenia, and Venice, emptied out my bank account, and, most importantly, fell in love.  Honestly, I never really considered love to been in the cards for a good long while, but, after my weekend in Ljubljana, Slovenia, I think it has found it's way back into my heart. Allow me to introduce Bruce. He loves cuddling, gives amazing hugs, and always makes you feel valued always. He's just a big softy. Also.
                               IS HE NOT THE CUTEST DOGGO IN THAT SWEATER???

    There has been a noticeable lack in my life of interactions with dogs lately, so, having a whole weekend to cuddle with one was very much needed for my mental health. People take their dogs everywhere here in Europe. Literally everywhere: in grocery stores, restaurants, clothing stores, banks, museums. In the same way that Europeans and Americans act differently, so do their pets. These pups are SO well behaved it's ridiculous. People let them wander without a leash all the time in the streets and in shops. But I have yet been able to build up the courage to try to pet a European doggo. Apparently Italians think Americans are a tad weird for wanting to pet every doggo they see. It makes us seem like we are obsessed with them, which.... I mean... is not exactly inaccurate...

    Switzerland and Slovenia can now be crossed off my list of places to visit (although they definitely require a second trip if I ever have money again). Both were beautiful in their own way, surrounded on all sides by those massive, majestic Alps. My roommates and I put on our adult-y pants and planned our own weekend trip to Interlaken, Switzerland, specifically for the purpose of paragliding. I emptied my bank account faster than a box of Boston Creme donuts because of that trip; however, to be able to soar over the Alps mountains was an experience I know I'll never forget. There is an age limit of around 60 years for all paragliders. Hopefully I'll be able to glide many more times before then. If you ever get the chance, go paragliding. Seriously... Do it. I also highly recommend a nice relaxing sit alongside the shore of Lake Brienz, which provides a stunning backdrop for you to consider all of the existential questions in your life by.

    Visiting Slovenia, I travelled by myself for the first time since being here which was so nerve-wracking. In Italy, once you leave the touristy areas, most people only speak Italian. I guessed and Google Translated my way through the entire trip, even making a wonderful friend along the way! Her name was Mara and she is now one of my first official Italian friends. We sat next to each other on our first bus from Florence and ended up chilling in a cafe together while waiting for our connecting busses. Despite the fact that she didn't know much English and my Italian was pathetic, we became quick friends (Shoutout to Google-Translate for being the bomb.com). Arriving in Ljubljana, it turned out that I had visited during their "Slovenian Marti Gras", which is basically a cooler version of Halloween. Every year, people from all over gather to celebrate this festival, specifically with the intention of 'scaring away the winter' with their costumes. (Honestly, the weather back home makes me desperate enough to consider bringing this tradition back to the states). Everyone poured into the city square dressed as all manner of creatures: fairies, superman, ninjas, Shrek and Cousin-It looking things (see below for photo evidence). I had a blast watching the festivities with Bruce's WONDERFUL family and stuffing my face with a traditional Slovene donut filled with chocolate fudge and topped with melted chocolate icing for good measure. (Shockingly enough, all my jeans still fit! They're only slightly snug..)

    Now Venice... Venice was beautiful. And apparently still sinking. Officials are working around the clock, our tour guide told us, to try to keep the entire city from becoming Atlantis 2.0, but I guess we will just have to wait and see. It is completely true when they say that getting lost amongst the streets of Venice is the easiest thing a tourist could do there. We wandered for quite a bit through the twists and turns, squeezing in between impossibly thin alleyways and under walkways so short they made me feel like Mrs. Sasquatch. We explored souvenir markets to find the perfect Carnival Masks and also tried pizza as large as our face (it was delicious, in case you were wondering). My favorite part of the day, however, was the gondola ride (and dinner.. that was amazing too). While our gondolier did not serenade us (much to my disappointment), he take us through some of the twisting, watery alleyways of Venice. We were able to get a different perspective of the city that I found quite charming.

    Murano and Burano were both just as alluring as the main island of Venice, if not more so. Burano, a teensy island filled with brightly colored houses of every hue, shade, and value, was a photographer's/artist's/ instagram-model's paradise. Legend has it that fisher-wives used to paint their homes those vibrant colors to make it easier for their husbands who were returning from sea to find their way home. Little did those fisher-wives know that in 2019, tourists from all over the world would be waltzing through every street and alley, hunting for the perfect house to take the most instagram-worthy photo in front of. (I am unashamed to admit that I found a quaint, bright yellow house for my photo-- see below). Hopefully someday I'll be able to return to Burano with some paints and canvas in hand to capture the colors for myself.

   
    While traveling every weekend is a blast, my exhausted body is now looking forward to this upcoming weekend of rest and relaxation in Florence. I'm hoping to go watch Captain Marvel on Saturday (LITERALLY SO EXCITED) and possibly check out more museums and churches. There is an endless supply of them here. That is how I spend most of my days now (when I am not in school, of course), wandering around Florence with my sketchbook, spending a few hours in one church, a few more hours in another. Maybe walking 20,000+ steps a day is the reason why my pants still fit (mostly) after a month and a half of chocolate croissants and pizza. In my upcoming posts, I want to tell whoever is still reading this blog (Hiii Mom and Dad) about the normal Italian day, Italian culture, my classes, and a few interesting phenomena. So... stay tuned

    As much fun Florence is, I do miss home. I hope all ya'll are doing well and surviving the cold!

      Ciao, Ciao,

            Leah


                                                                          Switzerland:

Slovenia:

Venice: