Perugia, Roma, Firenze, e Calzedonia

So much happens and I don't have time to write!!

Last weekend we went to Perugia. I'll post photos eventually. It was lovely. As always, the four of us had some interesting traveling experiences. This time the trip included an untimely torrential rainstorm; enormous pancakes-filled-with-sandwich-meat (called piadine, a Roman specialty) and also my first experience with Italian fast food; a bus strike; a farmhouse hostel in the Umbrian countryside complete with goats, cats, kittens, an Italian girl with a Kansas accent, her large and lovable boyfriend from Kansas, foosball, local wine, nonni, and farm-fresh eggs; an underground city filled with chocolate vendors; the piazze di Perugia filled with chocolate vendors; mobs cramming for free samples; and a chocolate-overdose-induced stupor.

The weekend before that we went to Rome. This trip cannot be summarized really. A few notable highlights:
Giulotti: fabulous gelato. I ate fig, banana, cioccolate fondente, pistacchio, and bacio (choco-hazelnut.) Covered with house-made panna (whipped cream.)
Societe Lucerne: delicious aperitivi buffet. The travel guide told us we would find effortlessly beautiful people, and we did. Literally everyone was effortlessly beautiful.

There's more, but for another time.

As the days go by I love Italian more and more. There are so many different aspects of the language and culture to love. I love the hand gestures. I love the superlatives. I love saying "Prego," and "Buona Sera," and "permesso." I love learning new words! Impensabile. Diffusissimo. Candelo. I like all of the old ladies who ride the bus with me every morning to do their grocery shopping, and I love running through the winding roads in the Tuscan countryside, while tiny cars zoom by at incredible speeds, and I can see the hills falling away draped in olive trees and studded with grandi ville overlooking all of their roba.

I like walking through Florence like I know what I'm doing here and I like it when people aren't sure what language to speak to me in. Today, in oviesse, I took six articles into the fitting room and a security guard stopped me. "Signorina! Ma quanta roba ce l'hai?" "Sei. Va bene?" "No. La prossima volta, no. Solo tre. E porta tutta indietro dopo." I later saw him affront an American male wandering through the store with a bottle of beer. "Not in here," he said. "All right, I'm walking out, I'm walking," said American male.

Were an American to remain here permanently, one could form a very negative opinion of one's own country based on their behavior abroad. It almost would make it easier to stay, because you don't see many of the positive aspects of American culture here. The strange part of moving abroad to me seems to be leaving your country behind and having it move forward without you.

On a lighter note, here is a nice Italian commercial. I guess I like even the non-food ones.