Firenze Day 2: Introduction to the Markets

Ciao! 

I am going to kick off today's post off by sharing with you my current favorite Italian word: Zucchero. (Zoo-kair-o) This--no surprise to some of you--means "sugar." Oh my goodness gracious. I love saying this word. I love the way it rolls like a wave through my mouth. My heart glows warmer and warmer the more Italian I speak... or maybe I'm confusing that with heartburn due to all the carbolicious food I'm eating (made that word up yesterday by the way, catchy eh? I think I am going to have to copyright it.) 

Actually, I love the word so much that I accidentally said "Zucchero" when I really meant "Grazie!" Maybe because, subconsciously, sugar in my head is synonymous with thank you. I do thank the gods for providing us mere mortals with this wonderful gift. 

Zuchhero. Zucchero. Zucchero. 

Never gets old. 

Love my zucchero! 

Beware: I'm switching topics on you now. 

Jetlag. Let me switch the topics to jetlag and then I will get back to some more Zucchero (love, love, love that word!). I am not as jetlagged as I was yesterday, but I was feeling pretty dang lethargic at about 13:00 (I know some of you out there are not Military clock savvy, so I will save you the headache of trying to figure out what that means in American time: 1:00pm). My step-dad came into the city today and he was definitely tuckered out from flying all day. So, while he took a nap I read my book "The Help" (which is a FABULOUS book by the way) and started to drowse off too. The three of us (remember my mama is here) took a two hour nap. It felt good, but YUCKY... it was so difficult to get my butt cheeks out of that comfy bed. (Yes, the bed here is actually being incredibly generous to my back, which is a rarity when it comes to my screwed up back [like the pun?])

So, yes, jetlag sucks, but here are some things that can help you get out of this lethargic-I-want-to-see-nothing-but-the-insides-of-my-eyelids syndrome. 

1.             Hydrate. Hydrate. Hydrate. Drink tons of water. (Seriously this helps. Plus you should do it anyways.)

2.             You may take naps, but restrict them to one hour. Otherwise it will take longer for you to adjust to the current time zone. Note that the adjustment takes three days average. 

3.             Walking around. Exercise. (This helps SO much. See some Italian men. That will get your heart thumping...)

4.             Eat healthy. Vitamin C is a good idea. 

Ooh, I got to tell you about this morning... I mean, after all, I did title this post after this particular event. 

The markets!!! 

Oh my good golly gosh! The markets here are absolutely amazing. 

A-MA-ZING! 

My mother and I walked out into the streets. The cobblestone streets that is. Some of the cobblestones actually wobbled and made gritty sounds beneath my worn out orangy sneakers. The city here is bursting with life. People are everywhere! You have to be aggressive if you want to cross the streets (Italian word for crossing the streets is: attraversiamo [learned that in Liz Gilbert's memoir "Eat Pray Love"]) because people--all shapes & sizes, walking speeds, etc--are literally everywhere. Good thing I have had lots of practice with this particular issue during my high school years--the halls of Sprague are hellish. Another thing you have to look out for when crossing the streets are bicycles, scooters, and cars. Some people don't even warn you that you are coming. They just come! 

I thought I was going to get flattened down like that pigeon my mom and I saw the other day. Yes... we saw a cobblestone crushed pigeon outside our hotel. It looked like a freaking pancake with feathers! How did that pigeon not see that wheel coming I will never know. As you see, this flattening-of-the-pigeon thing still boggles my mind. 

I also noticed a lot of people coughing today. 

I wonder why?

Oh let me take a wild gander here... (Sidenote: Looked up "gander" in the dictionary on my lovely laptop and it means: male goose. Learn something everyday.)

Maybe it's because they smoke so much here!!!

WAHA! I think I found my answer. 

So, my momma and I were cruising down the markets and I was in awe at the beautiful scarves, purses, leather jackets, jewelry, etc. My mom and I talked with this very sweet middle-aged Italian man about where we came from and guess what??? You are never going to believe this... HE KNEW WHERE OREGON WAS!!! It was so exciting. He actually knew more about Oregon than even some Oregonians know about Oregon. I was fascinated. His wife went on a study abroad trip, met him, fell in love, and now has been living there for 19 years. My mom turned toward me and then wiggled her eyebrows. I just shook my head. Ain't going to happen chica.

This very kind surprising-Oregon-savvy Italian man sold hats. Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful hats. I bought this gray felt hat. It will keep me nice and warm in the summer and not just warm, but I'll be stylin' too, which is good because I need to up the stylin' factor... remember I'm Amanda Yancey aka: THE DORK. 

My awesome felt hat. 

My beautiful elephant bag! :)

We walked a little further and came across a man selling these gorgeous hand-made muslin purses. I really liked this white purse with an elephant on it. The man asked for 20 euros. Mom offered 10. He took it. Mom realized she offered too much. He didn’t barter back. Maybe she should have offered 5.

Next Mom and I walked into the indoor market. Sooooo cool. Nearly everyplace had samples. And these samples definitely beat out the ones Costco. We tried some bone-melting black truffle broushetta (sp?) on a square piece of bread. I am NOT a mushroom person, but goodness… that was just down right delicious. Some advice: Be adventurous in life. I promise you will be pleasantly surprised.

Momma and I ended up eating at a little German delicatessen. We shared a bowl goulash—warm and spicy deliciousness. I dipped my bread into it. Holy moly moly holy the bread was heavenly. It definitely qualified as CARBOLICIOUS! I also had a bratwurst sandwich. Yum. Yum. Yum.

Mom taught me something smart today. When I am sitting outside with my purse. I need to sit with it by my side with my foot through the loop—this makes it harder to steal.

Ba-bam! That’s how it’s done.

Oh I got to tell you something sad. Something very sad…

Mom and I were walking around the market place and we saw this meat deli and on top of the glass was a little statue of a horse.

Mom: Hmm… makes you wonder. (Suspiciously eyes the meat.)

Me: Makes you wonder what? (Totally clueless here.)

[We both look up at the menu. There we see two gut-wrenching words: Horse Meat.]

Me: (On the verge of tears.) Oh… no… no! (I was about to fall to my knees and throw my arms up. YOU CAN’T EAT HORSES. Of course the man selling the meat would beg to differ.)

Hmm, hmm, hmm… what else should I talk about.

Oh yes. So, I’ll say that even though food is outrageously delicious and incredibly fatting, the people here in Firenze aren’t fat. Not even close to being fat. Actually they have GREAT figures. It’s because everyone walks here.

I will walk a lot too. I will walk, walk, WALK, climb stairs—do whatever I got to do in order to continue chowing down this carbolicious food.

Here is my mantra: Must exercise. Must eat carbolicious food.

Oh! I need to tell you about the big domed church we saw today. You can see this grand structure in pretty much any picture of Firenze. We saw it from the aeroplano. Such a spectacular sight! This red-tiled amazing human-made structure is called the Santa Maria. The building just towers over you like some fierce giant, demanding your attention. There are these marble statues everywhere--I love the one of little baby Jesus giving a blessing--some of them are just demonic looking. Want to know something amazing?

Of course you do.

This grand structure was built in the 1300s.

Has your jaw popped open?

I know mine did as I craned my neck back to look up at it, but then I had to shut it quickly before a pigeon pooped in my mouth.

If you look up at the tippy-top of the dome you’ll see people up their admiring the view. Yes, you can actually climb the stairs to the top. I am going to do this before I leave.

My apartment is just down the street from this beautiful structure. How lucky am I???

That’s the end of my gloating.

I’m just really appreciative and thankful for this INCREDIBLE experience.

Periodically throughout the day the bells would tong away. I was trying to think of how to describe the sound to you. I guess right now the words that come to mind are deep, guttural, calming sort of…

There were a lot of nuns and priests walking around. For some odd reason the sight of them always made me giggle.

There were a lot of horse carriage rides in this area and I couldn’t help worry for these horses lives. I mean where do they go when they retire??? I mean—as my Mom would say—it makes you wonder…

I have to admit that when I smelled the horse dumplings on the cobblestones I got a little nostalgic… I was starting to miss my Red-a-Roo. I realize I’m one of the few—possibly the only--people who gets nostalgic when she smells horse crap, but oh well… I’m weird like that.

Interesting fact: The street signs of Italy are not like those in the U.S. They are actually inscribed on placards, located on the corner of buildings.

Ooh I got some gelato today. From a group of women this time—I made sure of this—so we didn’t have a Ground Hog’s Day moment. I got a scoop of berries and a scoop of lemon in a waffle cone. GOOD GOD!!! The waffle cones here are beyond words. I could say tons of things about them—they are amazing, delicious, out of this world, mouth watering, yummy, finger-licking good—but I’d never find the RIGHT word to adequately describe my experience with this waffle cone. Bite after crunchy bite, my eyes would roll back into my head, like I was having a flippin’ ... (I’ll let you fill in the blank here)

Yep, it was that good.

We sat on a concrete bench, listening to a three-man band play in the square as I ate my gelato. The violinist got my foot tapping—remember exercise is important in this carbolicious country.

Next Mike, Momma, and I walked down the cobblestreet alleyways, walked along the river, then came up to a little Caffe. I had my first cappuccino. It was served in a ceramic cup with the world’s map painted on it. A breeze sailed through the air, playing over my skin, as I sipped the foam from my cup. Oh! Here is the fun part. I got to add something VERY, VERY, VERY special in this cappuccino… what oh what could this be???

ZUCCHERO!!!!

Yay! I told you we’d get back to this wonderful word.

You still reading?

I’m amazed if you are because this is turning out to be a freaking novel. At this point it is 7 pages on my Word document. Oh well… what can I say—I’m a writer.

I’m also a serial babbler.

Go ahead and take a potty break now if you wish. 

I promise I'm almost done. 

 At around 19:35 (7:35pm) we went out to dinner--same place as the previous night. I had penne pasta with tomato sauce again. So, so, unbelievable delicious!!! I am neither an onion person nor a tomato person and I gobbled up that sauce like my life depended on it. It was a spicy, peppery, tangy, warm sauce that seemed to melt in my mouth. It tasted as though it was made that day—not sitting in some can with a wanna-be-Italian man on the label on the shelves of a Safeway for months. No, this was fresh.

I had a cappuccino with some more ZUCCHERO after dinner. It was incredibly pleasant. Like this was my reward for all those hellish years of back surgeries.

Now I am back in our hotel, sitting on the third story balcony. The warm arm kissing the back of my neck, making my fingers sweat and slip across the keys as I type. The city is so bright that when I look to the sky I only see about… hold on, let me count… FOUR stars out. Yep, FOUR stars, that’s all. I see a cute little gray kitty looking out the window to the right of me.

Well—GROSS—now he is licking his crotch, so I will glance up to the building in front of me.

There is only one window lit, it’s got that bluish, eery glow to it, that kind made by a TV, there is also a silhouette of man staring out the window. He is totally creeping me out right now. All he needs is a woman’s wig and we have Normano Bates.

The city is noisy at night. I keep hearing cars honking, cars zooming by, drunkards yelling at one another, scooters whizzing by, cats screeching like their in heat or in a fight or possibly both, etc.

Well, I’ve been typing away on this post of mine for a good two hours and need to go to bed now. Plus I think I’m convinced I chatted a storm up for you. Like always, if you made it to this point without flickering eyes of boredom I salute you!

Till next time.

Arrivederci!

We Made it to Firenze!

I have been up for over 24 hours now and am very, very, very exhausted to say the least. I traveled with my momma from Portland, Oregon to Amsterdam (10 hour flight) then hopped on another plane (or as they say it in Italian--which is so much cooler to say by the way--aeroplano) to Firenze (Florence), Italy (1 hour flight). The first aeroplano ride was nice. We were non-revving (flying for free) and were able to get a business class seat. Yay! I learned something today. I sleep better on a flatten out tray table than I do on one of those fancy business seats that stretches out into a bed.
Weird, right?
I thought so too.
I watched two movies on my personal little TV screen that popped out of the arm on my chair: "X-Men: First Class" (go Jennifer Lawrence!) and "Something Borrowed." The latter movie is one of those really stupid chick flicks where you know EXACTLY what is going to happen next, but for some annoying reason you just can't turn it off.
Here are some things you should not be thinking, while flying:

1. Ooh, we are flying over the Titanic right now! (This one isn't too bad, but look where it leads...)
2. Ugh, that would suck to drown in cold water... (Just cold water, Amanda? I think drowning in any sort of water would SUCK. Weirdo. And yes... it would suck to drown in cold water. It gets much worse from here.)
3. [Turbulence] I hope we don't crash. 
4. [More turbulence] Oh god, we are going to crash... right next to the Titanic. Great. 

You would think with parents in the airline industry turbulence wouldn't both me, but it kind of did this time. I don't know--must be something about flying over water that bugs me.

Oh yes, I should mention I totally over-ate on this first flight. Bleh. I felt sick when I walked off the plane. 

Ok good useless facts, moving on...

When we got to Amsterdam and walked across those moving belt things (what the heck are those things called? I'm lacking sleep here, so no making fun of me!) the little muffled voice over kept saying: Mind your step. 

She would not shut up. I heard her a million times and was starting to get rather grouchy at this point. We bought some stroupel-waffles (I'm guessing I spelled this wrong. Oh well. If you've had them you'll know what I mean. They are pretty darn delicious.)

This makes my mouth water. So good with hot chocolate. 

Then Mom and I got on our next flight. It was really hot and muggy on the plane, which doesn't exactly help you out when your stomach is bloated to its maximum capacity and you are super duper tired. The seats were tight and I developed a mega headache. I sat in the middle seat too... (ok no I just sound like a huge whiner right now... you have permission to skip this paragraph if you wish.) I flipped open my tray table and tried to sleep on it, but then got violently conked in the head when the lady in front of me leaned her chair back. I'll probably get a huge bump from it. So, I didn't get any sleep on that flight either, even though my body was pretty much begging for it. 

The view from the window was absolutely gorgeous, especially when we flew over the Swiss Alps. Oh my goodness gracious. It was amazing. So, so, so incredible. 

Then we landed in Italy!!! When I stepped outside the heat curled around my body like a comforting hug (there... like how I got all fancy and literary there even though I am falling asleep as I type?). 

We grabbed our luggage--which was easy to find since I painted brilliant reds and yellows on my suitcase--and then grabbed a cab to our hotel. As we drove to our, I unrolled the windows because it was in the mid 80s today I think. It felt very nice. Firenze definitely has its own smell. I kept thinking about how to describe this smell to you as we were driving--then it hit me. It smelled of incense. It reminded me of a yoga shop. When we stepped out of the taxi the air was now a mixture of incense and cigarettes.

When walked up to our creepy looking hotel. 

Why creepy?

Well, I call it creepy because the stairs led up to this really dark room with nothing but a staircase and elevator. A very old elevator, you know the wooden kind where you have to close the glass doors and then the cage-like door? 

Yes? No?

Well, that's what it was like and at first we had a difficult time operating it because the whole dark room with creepy elevator and stairs looked like a spot where murders lurked. Thankfully a very kind Australian woman helped us out with the elevator. The three of us (keep in mind mom and I had our suitcases and backpacks) squished into the tiny elevator and lethargically made our way up to the third floor. The elevator made these awful squeaking noises that inevitably led me to thinking about The Tower of Terror and California Adventure.
Again, not the best thing to be thinking about at the moment. As you can see... I have a tendency to think creepy thoughts like this.

That leads to our balcony. Such a cool shot right?

Our hotel room is perfect. Two beds. Large windows. Balcony. Very, very, very nice. I think I will show photos instead of describing it because I have talked a lot so far.

View from my window. My very LARGE window. 

Balcony. 

My bed. 

Yes, so you need to step UP into the bathroom or you will trip. Know how I know this?

Bathroom. 

Very tired looking Amanda. 

Towel wrack... so exciting. 

View from balcony. 

Momma on her large bed. 

High ceiling. 

Large windows. You could fall out. 

Love this shot! Kind of eery. 

So I was definitely jet-lagging this afternoon. Well, makes sense. It wasn't even time to wake up at home and I had been up for more than 24 hours. I am human and need to sleep. That's what we humans do... well at least some of us. Mom only let me sleep for an hour and a half because I need to get used to this time zone, but ugggghhhh!!! You can look on my facebook because mom took a photo of this lovely jetlagged look of mine. It scares the hell out of me. Tell me if it scares you.


Mom and I walked outside (taking the stairs this time) into the city and got some gelato.
Ok... this is where our story gets interesting.
Want to know why?
Of course you do.
Two words: Italian men.
So, I am not going to lie, I was forewarned about these interesting creatures. I just didn't understand how true these statements actually were...
So, there my mom and I were picking out what we wanted to eat and this EXTREMELY (not exaggerating here at all) attractive Italian man came out to scoop us up some gelato, but this was not his primary concern. He wanted to know where we came from. Why we were in Firenze? Ok so here's the thing (as Erika Juengling would say) Italian men do not know where Oregon is so we just resorted to California... yeah, they understood where California was. Well, I never really asked to try out certain flavors, but this hot-Italian-googly-eyed man kept trying to NO JOKE spoon feed us all sorts of different flavors. I was like: Uh, no thanks, I will take the spoon from your hand.
Well, then once we sorted out what flavors we wanted he came around the corner and started kissing our hands and hugging us. Needless to say, the dork who doesn't get much attention from boys in the first place was a little overwhelmed. Let's just say the man made me blush big time. If I were to ask me what fruit best symbolized me, at that moment I would have said: tomato.
Hands down tomato.

This picture cracks me up. The guys we met did not have long gelled back hair like this, though. 

Are you still reading?
Good, I salute you.
If not, well obviously what I write here isn't going to make much of a difference.
Ok, at this point in our story mom and I had gobbled up our delicious gelato. I got mango by the way and mom got lemon. Delicious as expected. Next we went walking in the park and sat down on a bench. We watched stray dogs wandering around the park and peeing on various different items. Yes, so exciting. There were also a gazillion pigeons at this park. One of them landed on this statue in front of us and pooped on that statue's head. Gross. Then one pigeon's wings skimmed the tip of my head. Gross.


Hopefully this paragraph did not bore you to bits because I have another interesting scene to describe to you. So, that first Italian man encounter was a bit much for me and I was already burnt out for the day, but... that wasn't the last of the Florence-Day-1-Italian-Man Saga (just made that up by the way). So, picture this. My mom and I are at the park. Innocently admiring the pigeons pooping on the head of this ginormous statue when this Italian man comes up to my mother and starts touching her arms (creeper):


Italian man #2: You are so beautiful. (Remember I'm the dork, so he was definitely talking to my mother not me)
Mom: (Awkwardly giggling): Grazie
Italian man #2: Where are you from?
Mom: Oregon
[Italian man #2: Looking at her with perplexed googly eyes]
Mom: California
Italian man #2: Oh (smiling widely, now he understands...) very nice.
[Just got those googly-eyes going on my momma. Feeling a little awkward here. Kind of wanting a pigeon to poop on HIS head]
Italian man #2: Do you have a boyfriend?
Mom: [Points to her wedding ring] Yes, husband. I am married.
Italian man #2: (Sighs) Oh... well YOU MAKE LOTS OF LOVE to this man.
[Mom nodding awkwardly. I just about pooped my pants]
Italian man #2: Well, good day. (Gives mom's shoulder one last pat and then is on his way.)


Ok, I don't know about you, but when a stranger strolls up to your mother and then tells her to MAKE LOTS OF LOVE with your father the gag reflexes sort of kick in to place. Bleh. Bleh. Bleh. Not the image I needed in my head.

I think you know what I am thinking here. 

So then we went back to our hotel. Walked up to our room. Smokey, smokey hallways. I am definitely going to suffer from second-hand smoke here. Cough, cough, gag, gag... can someone say lung replacement???
I worked on my blog for a little bit and then we went out to eat. We walked down the block a little ways to this fabulous ristorante (yes, genius that is "restaurant" in Italian). I nibbled on the bread, which has a much different taste than the bread in America. I don't exactly know how to put it, but mom said they use different wheat so I am guessing that had something to do with it. But I also think it has something to do with no sugar added. I had penne pasta with tomato sauce and oh my goodness gracious people.... it was delicious... seriously THE BEST Italian dish I have ever had, which makes sense. I am in Italy now. Here's how I know it was THE BEST. See, I'm not a tomato person and I actually ate all the tomatoes in this dish... yep, it was THAT good. As I said in a Facebook post... with all this carbolicious food, my pants are going to choke the living daylights out of me by the end of this trip.


It was interesting because this family came in and these two young, young girls, maybe under the age of eight were drinking little glasses of wine. It was really cool and different at the same time. Those two little girls were two cute. They kept bickering in Italian. My brother and I bickered a lot (bickered? are you kidding me... we still bicker), but my mother probably would have preferred that we bickered in Italiano. It was a very relaxing, enjoyable evening.


So now I am sitting outside on the balcony, nice warm air blowing my hair around, the smell of lung cancer (aka: cigarettes) is in the air, and I am writing my first blogpost from Italy. I am not even tired now because it is noon at home. But it is almost eleven at night here. Great. I'll get used to it though.


That is all I have for the day. I hope to write at least every other day on this blog because I know a lot more interesting (wink, wink) things will happen to me on this Italian journey. Thanks for tuning in. Hopefully it is entertaining to read as it is to experience and write.


Arrivederci!


P.S: I got an Italian cell phone. Just thought that was some cool information that needed to be put in before I published this sucker.

Packing... :P

Don't get me wrong, I am incredibly, incredibly excited about my trip to Italy. I just don't particularly like the whole packing part. It's sort of a pain in the butt and gives me headaches. I am, however, packing early--this isn't a last-minute-pack-the-night-before-the-trip thing, so I should at least get some brownie points for that. It isn't as painful when you listen to music, though. I'm listening to Cake and the XX right now.
I am not to pack anything that would suggest I am an American. Maybe I should sneak my Canadian shirt in... everyone loves Canadians... eh?
Here are some pictures of my packing experience...

Do you think I'll spot this easily in luggage claim?  

Packing a mountain of clothes into that tiny suitcase of mine. Yippy skippy. :)

I'm nauseated looking at this... :P

Jacob is going miss me... 

Getting Really Excited Here!

Hello there (whoever you are, not even sure if anyone is even reading this),


I am getting incredibly excited about my Italy trip, which is coming up pretty quickly now. I just ordered this self-learn Italian workbook and am doing my best at trying to figure this beautiful language out, but I'm thinking I should get a Learn-Italian-While-You-Drive kind of CD because I am more of an audio learner--plus it would be nice to hear how to properly pronounce the words.

My lovely Italian workbook. 

Look I made some spiffy flashcards to practice.

Well, I got a list of the people I will be going to Italy with. It's kind of funny because there are four girls named Rebecca in my group. That is going to be interesting. I contacted some of these people through Facebook and we are all equally excited about the trip. I'm looking forward to meeting them.


My mom thinks that while I am in Italy I should go by my middle name, Claire, instead. Any guesses as to why?


(Jeopardy music playing in the background...)


It's because there is another Amanda in Italy right now, who is also from the Pacific Northwest and she, my dear friends, is in jail. Yes, that would be Amanda Knox. (Yikes! I kind of look like her too...)

Dun. Dun. Dun... :( 

So, I suppose I am going to have to get used to saying: Mi chiamo Claire Yancey.
I am going to be reading some books on what I should expect when I go to Italy--social etiquette and such. Hopefully, these will actually help.

I wish I could flip this image over. Dang. 

Did I mention how excited I am getting?
Till next time. :)