It was an amazing trip. And I took so many photos I needed to put some distance between the images and myself to try and narrow it down. And still . . . so many photos. I feel biased to the photos because I’m too sentimental about them. I can’t be objective to say whether or not they are any good. I tried to photograph all the parts of this story as it unfolded, but there was so much. It was a sensory overload and yet is was a welcome gourmet for my eyes and spirit. I fell in love in Italy with Italy. Since we returned home I have purchased a cappuccino machine and I listen to Italian music . . . I miss it so much. But I am hopeful that some day I will get the chance to make another hop across the ocean and go back. It is another home away from home. I could go on and on but of course I’m gushing.
Wherever we travel I always appreciate the street art. Graffiti has its good and its bad. Some is beautiful; some not so much, but all the cities we’ve travelled to have graffiti artists. Annabelle was more than eager to post with her oversized aviator glasses. Age 9. My girl.
We carried water wherever we went. It was sooooo hot. We started buying water by the liter and just guzzled it as we walked through the cities.
Gelato. I could have a love affair with gelato. Ah, it reminds me of childhood and falling in love, all in a tiny cup.
Around every corner there was something else to see in Rome. I never felt bored. Not for a second.
We rode a motorized four person bicycle. So fun! Even when we crashed! And I swear that it wasn’t my fault . . .
And before we knew it we were in a BMW station wagon that we nicknamed Money Penny because of her British accent. She served us well. We navigated out of Rome and into the countryside. Tuscany was waiting . . .
In Tuscany, Matt found a pool table and spent many an hour there clacking the heck out of the table. We attempted to teach a German couple how to play . . . they preferred the foosball table. I listened to loud Italian opera and danced.
In Tuscany we took a cooking class and learned to make homemade pasta and ravioli. Annabelle was a natural in the kitchen. Me . . . I could get the hang of it if I wanted to. I just don’t have the patience to stand and wait for things to happen . . . I’m better at chopping and prepping and making things happen. Not a good waiter. Patience is not my strong suit.
And before we knew it, it was time to pack up and head off on our next adventure . . . Florence. More photos to come.