Last day :(

Guys, I really like making friends. And learning about people. Which is why studying abroad has been so fantastic! I also really liked staying in a hostel because there was pretty much an endless supply of people to talk to.

The downside is that eventually you have to say goodbye and revert to facebook as communication, or in the case of the hostel meet them for about two minutes (slight exaggeration  kind of) and then just never see them again at all. For instance, I met a really nice girl from Australia who made me feel like such a wimp for being nervous about going to Italy by myself, when she's 19 and is travelling the world by herself for EIGHT MONTHS. But also, she was just so nice!

Anyway, the last day was really good because I talked to so many people! And it was just lovely.

In the morning, I ate breakfast with two other Americans and we talked to the hostel owner about the Mafia, how he started his business, and how much he loves Italy and how it is much better than Paris, and he doesn't understand why Parisians think it's so great because they just have "a big metal box". This made me laugh a lot.

After this, I walked to Castello Sforzesco and wandered around the grounds. Everything was so beautiful! And as much as I like the castles in Scotland, this one was a nice change.

They also have a replica of the Arc de Triumph, for reasons that are unknown to me.

Then I went to the aquarium, which was really cool! Although, I must admit I do not like aquariums very much. They freak me out a little bit. I think it's because I saw an episode of Superman when I was little in which Lex Luthor had an aquarium in his house with an orca or shark or something in it and the glass broke, and well...you can imagine what ensued.

However, this aquarium was really nice (And I say this even though I have been to the Monterey Bay Aquarium, which should have ruined all other aquariums for me) and good fun!

The hostel owner had pointed out Chinatown to me as a place in case I wanted to by cheap souvenirs for people. And although I had no room for anything in my backpack, I decided to head over because, well.... I miss Chinatown. Mostly because Scotland (And I presume the U.K. in general) is just....full of white people. Not that there is anything wrong with that, but I think the homogeneity has gotten to me. And sometimes it tends to promote less-than-politically-correct thinking. Which has been a definite adjustment, I would say.

I think I had very high expectations going in. I mean, San Francisco's Chinatown is pretty fantastical. And not that it wasn't lovely here as well, it was just.... hard to distinguish it except for the red lanterns.

Anyway, so I wandered around here for a while, then I went back toward a downtown area (I'm not sure if this is their proper downtown, but it seemed like it). Then something very exciting happened.

I saw a food truck.

For Sicilian food.

Being just a bit, erm, umburrassingly obsessed with Italian things I knew this meant cannoli (among other things, but this is the most important). 

Oh my gosh. There were so many pastries to choose from. But I went with a chocolate cannolo, and it was so good.

I mean SO GOOD.

Fo realz though, I made some at camp this summer, and I thought those turned out well. And that the ones Iggy and I ate in North Beach were good. But this was delicious.

I miss this LITTLE goofball! Can't wait to punch, pinch, and
poke him!

Cannolo from North Beach

But fo realz nothing compares to this (until I go to Sicily that is...)

I would say that it is a safe assumption that I had quite the food baby after this, so I started walking back to the hostel.

Unfortunately, it was freezing out.

Well, not really. But I was really chilly. So eventually I stopped somewhere and got a brioche (only adding to the food baby-poor Luigi!) which the man behind the counter was kind enough to warm up!

So fo realz. Such a food baby by the time I made it back to the hostel. And I realised that at that point I had only eaten sugar in the past 24 hours. Umburrassin? A bit. Delicious? Very much. Regrets? Never!

I also decided I should probably pack, since I had to get up early the next  morning. And it also made me start thinking about how unready I am to leave Scotland. Because I will miss people here so much, and everyone is so lovely, and mostly empire biscuits. 

Which people always laugh at me for loving. But fo realz they are delicious.

Anyway. So basically I packed up all of my things, which took a lot longer than expected. Also I lost my shampoo, and even though I am now pretty much all unpacked I still have no idea where it ran off to. Fortunately, someone was nice and lent me theirs.

The next day was pretty uneventful. Although I almost forgot to mail the postcards. I was going to do it at the train station, then I forgot and didn't remember until I was already on the bus to the airport. Luckily there was a post box at the airport.

I think that by now I had gotten pretty used to using Italian. Because when we touched down in Scotland I kept having to remind myself to use English. Umburrassin? A little.

Overall it was a really lovely trip, and I am so happy I was able to go!

~ - ~ - ~

Also guys, I have six days left. As in, this is my last Wednesday in Scotland. It went by too fast! And although, yes, as predicted I still have a long list of things that I want to see before leaving because I kept procrastinating (Although I think I have done more work on it than predicted as well!), I really am not too torn up about it. Because I realise that although sightseeing and doing touristy things is great and all, I have been just as happy to sit in the kitchen with friends until 3:30 in the morning giggling like crazy because we're all so tired but having too much fun. 

Also, it's not as if I will never come back. I mean it will probably be a while, and yes the plane tickets are steep, but if I had to eat just cereal and live in a sketchy neighbourhood for a year, I would do it and make it work!

So yes, I am quite sad to be leaving (as anyone in my kitchen will tell you I am a consistent whiner about this), but more because I will miss people here and certain things about here that I won't have for a while than because I think it's my last time here and I will never ever ever come back.

Firenze

The day I went to Florence was certainly the most adventure-filled (and delightfully delicious) day I had while in Italy.

The train ride, though very early, was going along fine until we hit Bologna. The train in front of us broke down and we were stuck at the station for an hour or hour and a half or so. At this point I got a little bit worried, since I had no way of contacting my friend to let her know I would be delayed. During the wait I tried to make conversation with the people on the compartment, and although it was enough to find out what was going on with the train it was fairly limited due to my lack of proper Italian.

I would like to pause before continuing. You see, it has been brought to my attention that I have pretty much come across as a "Nervous Nelly/Nancy" in these past few posts, and I would just like to say that this is not true! I usually enhance the nervousness and anxiety for entertainment purposes.

Anyway, finally we made it into Firenze Rifredi Station. I got off the train and went to look for my friend, who as a small blonde in a crowd of mostly brunettes I thought should have stood out.

This turned out not to be the case. Not only were there more blondes than anticipated, I could not find her anywhere. There was also no real waiting area at this station, so I wasn't entirely sure where to look. After walking along all the platforms and in and out of the station cafe, I concluded that she wasn't there. I thought something might have happened and got directions to the nearest Internet Point so that I could check facebook and send her a message (I think this is one of the few times this semester I really would have liked to have a phone).

After finding my way there, about a five minute walk including a tunnel and a weird intersection I sent her a message  and then went back to the train station to check one more time.

After a little bit of back and forth between the internet point and station (The employee at the internet point must have thought I was crazy), we were finally able to get things straightened out and meet up! Whew!

Our first stop was lunch. We went to a sandwich place that had a line out the door (which was positively correlated with the deliciousness of the place). My friend suggested asking for the guy's favourite vegetarian sandwich, since I had no idea what to order.

It. Was. So. Good.

Mozzarella, tomato, spicy eggplant, and some other delicious
things. MMMMMM

Seriously though. I don't think I will ever eat something this good again. Maybe I will just move to Florence.

After this we went to the Christmas markets. They were so cool! I'd never been to a Christmas market before, and was quite impressed! All of the stalls had so many things, I just wish I had room in my backpack to bring things back for people!

Then we headed over to Ponte Vechio ("Old Bridge") with one of her friends, which was of course beautiful!  There were so many nice shops as well!

While wandering around we passed by a gelataria that they remembered as being good, but couldn't remember how much it was. After peering in the window and seeing it was 2,50 for a small cup/cone, they breezily dismissed it with a "We can do better" and we kept walking. I wish I had been here long enough to  know these things! I also learned that if a place had huge mounds of gelato that it means they're not making it every day and you should go somewhere else. 

The gelataria we did go to was absolutely delicious. I don't know how I can go back to regular ice cream after this! 

Cookies and Santa Tristina

At this point it had started to rain, which brought out all the Umbrella Men (Which leads me to wonder what they sell in the off-season). They brought me to this really great bakery, where I got a chocolate brioche and a shortbread cookie under the pretense of saving it for the next day although in reality I ate them on the train later.

To avoid getting soaked we ducked into a book shop near the train station and browsed for a little while. 

WANT

It was really funny to me how many books I read as a kid were just translated into Italian, including Dr. Seuss! In case you were wondering, he does rhyme in Italian.

After saying goodbye, I went to the train station to see which platform the train back to Milan would be departing from. I didn't see any train with the destination for "Milano", but knowing that it's not necessarily the final destination I opened my bag to look up the train number on my ticket.

I couldn't find my ticket.

No embellishment is necessary to describe how panicked I became. Every cliche of hearing one's heart pounding, sweaty palms, and the like applied. Mostly because I always keep my ticket folded around my passport. And as I couldn't find my ticket I assumed the worst about my passport.

I found a spot where I could sit and take everything out of my bag to be sure. Luckily, when digging through my bag I did find my passport, which slowed my heart rate a little. Just a little though.

I still couldn't find the ticket that I had printed, but I was pretty sure I could also print them from one of the self-serve kiosks so I ran over to one of those, noting that the train was due to depart in fifteen minutes. 

I found that this was not the case. Without the reservation number, which is printed on the ticket, I could not print the ticket from the kiosk. I am still trying to figure out how this makes any sense.

I explained my situation to the kiosk assistant, and she told me to go to the customer service office, saying something about calling someone to get the reservation number.

I ran over to the customer service office, anticipating a long line but I was surprised to find that I was the only one there! Whew!

I tried to explain to one of the agents that I had already bought a ticket, but could not find it. And although for the most part my Italian vastly improved in my panic, I was still using the verb "incontrare" incorrectly (still not having remembered that it means "to meet" rather than "to find" as a similar verb would in Spanish). This made getting my point across a little difficult, and the agent kept thinking I needed to buy a ticket.

Once I was able to communicate my situation properly, he said there was no solution but to buy another ticket. I sighed, realising that this was probably the best course of action since according to my watch I only had ten minutes to get on the train, not enough time to find an internet point to print my ticket again.

I opened my bag to check one more time, and there was my ticket, right on top of all my things!

I don't think I have ever felt like more of an idiot. I was so sure I had taken everything out of my bag to check. Not to mention I came across as a complete rambling crazy mess to the two agents in the office!

The agent said "Well there it is! You do have it!" (in Italian) and gave me this look that made it pretty clear he thought I was a weirdo. Which I don't really blame him for. Because it is true.

He then took the ticket from me to check what platform it was departing from. The platform hadn't been announced yet, but he did point out what train it was. I thanked him and said that I should probably at least walk back towards the platforms since the train would be leaving soon.

He shook his head and pointed to the clock, telling me I had twenty minutes until my departure.

What.

I checked my watch, sure that I had less time than that. Then, of course, I remembered that I had recently set my watch ten minutes ahead so that I would be more on time to things.

I know. I am a freak. Not only do I know this, but now both the Trenitalia agents know it too! The other agent who had mostly been watching at this point motioned for me to sit down and catch my breath so I did.

But really. I felt like such an idiot.

After I calmed a little, the two agents and I started talking-about where I was from, why I was in Firenze, what I thought, etc.

These two should be a comedy duo.

They are seriously the two cutest old(ish) men I have ever met in my life.

When I told them I was from San Francisco, they asked me if that was the one with the triangle shaped sky-scraper (in a mix of pantomime and English), and I said it was. Then they started talking excitedly to each other about San Francisco and Los Angeles, although for the most part I did not understand them. 

Then they started writing down something on a sheet of scrap paper and showed it to me. They had drawn a triangle and box to convey the Transamerica Pyramid, then written "600,000" and "6,000,000" next to it and wanted to know which one was San Francisco and which was L.A. I told them San Francisco was the smaller one (Although in reality we have more people than this), then they consulted each other more and asked me how many people live in New York. I said 8 million (I think this is true, based on something Pop once said about if it is a one in a million chance of someone having a tiger in their apartment in New York then there are technically eight people in New York with tigers in their apartment). 

They continued to chat to one another in rapid Italian, and turned to me again to ask if San Francisco is the one with the hills and trolleys, which I confirmed. They then very casually concluded that although they think San Francisco is beautiful "Non è Firenze" (It's not Florence). 

At this point the platform for the train had been announced and they sent me off with a hospitality guide to Florence for the next time I go =]

Basically I want to be their best friend. They were so sweet. And patient with my craziness! And at least I hope I made a good story, and that they can go home and tell their wives about the "crazy American" they met.

Italia: Il Terzo Giorno: Venezia

I must explain something. Or state something. Venice is my favourite city. Ever. I mean, San Francisco is obviously my favourite city in the U.S. And yes, this takes into account New York. I am not a fan, despite what some of ya'll might try to convince me of. Mostly because once I spent about a zillion hours in the cold there because SOMEONE locked the keys in the trunk. And once when I was seven or so SOMEONE took my picture when I did not want it taken! Also, Times Square is just a bunch of ads. And really, if I want to look at Ads I can flip through a magazine.It's cheaper and doesn't involve navigating around people walking slowly.

Anyway, Venice is just so beautiful. So. Beautiful. And I have wanted to go there since I was in elementary schoolish (Although back then I thought it was pronounces like Venus). I once even tried to convince my parents to move there-I looked up a list of the most expensive cities in the world, and found that San Francisco was ahead of Venice, so of course we could afford to live there and it made perfect sense to move!

Finally, a couple of years ago I got to go with the Fam-Bam, and it was ahmazing! But I have always wanted to go back.

Basically, all this explains why I was so willing to get up early for a 7:30AM train to Venice from Milan.

Normally, I would be so excited I would have butterflies. But I think this time I was pretty much paralysed by excitement. I also handed the conductor the wrong ticket, which was a little umburrassin.

The day before, I had bundled up to walk about Milan and this had ended up unnecessary. So I decided to learn from my mistake and only take my jacket, rather than jacket and hoodie.

Of course, I get there and it is freezing cold and rainy. Perfect.

First thing I see from the train station

I would also like to point out that I went there without a map. Which is crazy because we all know what happens when I get lost and don't have a map. Although I guess a map is really not that helpful in Venice anyway.

I decided to pick a direction and go with it. There was no sight I was dying to see, and was a little exhausted of touristy things from the previous day. I spent most of the morning seeing signs pointing to Piazza San Marco and walking in the exact opposite direction.

Eventually, I stopped seeing signs for Piazza San Marco and Ponte Rialto. I got so lost I saw cars. In Venice. I'm still not entirely sure where I was at this point. All I know is that I was FREEZING. And dripping wet. But I was also convinced that if I had made it through Scotland this long without an umbrella, I could go a day in Venice without one. So I avoided the umbrella men and continued to be wet.

Even with the rain. And the overcast sky. And the flooded walkways. Venice was just gorgeous. And I was so happy. And in absolute awe.

Little gates to keep the water out-cool! I had
been wondering how shops and houses don't
fill up like little boxes.

At this point I figured I should stop in somewhere to eat and warm up. After doing the same thing I did in Milan the previous day in which I was so worried about making a fool of myself that I had to keep walking and telling myself "the next one I'll go in", I finally went in somewhere.

After much deliberation, I ordered tortellini.

Alright, so most (though I sincerely hope all) of you know I am a vegetarian. I have been for 20 or so years, and it is not something I am willing to change for anything or anyone.

Well. I ate meat. Accidentally. I think. "I think" refers to I think it was meat, not "I think" it was an accident. 

You see, it didn't occur to me to ask what the tortellini were filled with. I know. A rookie mistake.

So there I was eating the tortellini, and it was covered in sauce so all I could really taste was tomato. Then I ate a plain tortellino, and well, it tasted strange and unfamiliar.

When I tell this story, the next question people always ask is "Did it taste good?" With an expression on their face that assumes my answer to be something along the lines of "Yes, it was delicious and I'm crazy for not having realised this sooner-I will definitely change my ways!"

It did not taste very nice. It was very salty, I would say. When I realised that the taste was unfamiliar, I cut open a plain one to see what the filling looked like. It was brown. Not that I am uber-familiar with meat, but I decided that I could conclude that between the unfamiliarity and colour that it was filled with meat.

Of course, then I was faced with a problem. Do I keep eating this? I was really hungry. And had only take a few bites. But also, I'm a vegetarian and do not each such things. Also, if someone doesn't eat meat for even just a few years, their body often rejects it when they start eating it again. I couldn't imagine how my body would take it after a roughly-vegetarian roughly-twenty years.

But also, I did not want to be impolite.

So....I made myself eat half of it, remembering a story in which my dad went to Japan, and was given VERY fresh fish (he swears it was still moving) and ate it anyway because that is what you do. I copied his coping method of sticking pieces in the back of my mouth and just swallowing. But mostly, I drank a lot of water and ate all the bread.

After this, the waiter asked if I wanted a cappuccino  Now, it was well into the afternoon at this point. And like any good traveler, I had looked up things about the country I was travelling to and had learned that ordering a cappuccino after noon is not something that is generally done. But also, he offered it and I was still shivering, so I had it anyway.

After this pretty eventful meal, I started walking around again and decided that I really would like to visit the Bridge of Sighs as the last time I was there is was covered in the canvas stuff used on scaffoldings and made to look like the bridge. The only way I knew how to get there was through Piazza San Marco. So, although I spent the first half of the day avoiding the square, I spend my second half finding it. 

After following signs, and backtracing my steps to avoid flooded streets, and crossing the lovely Rialto Bridge I made it!

Trust me. I know how lucky I am to have friends when I make
faces like these!

The sky had dimmed at this point, but the square was still lovely! I was also freezing again, so I decided to get a move on and find the Bridge of Sighs, then make my way back to the train station, then from there find dinner, then back to Milan!

Finding my way back to the station was harder than I thought it would be. Remember how I had no map? However, I had looked at a map in the restaurant, and thought I could find it from the Rialto Bridge so I made my way back that way. 

Fo realz I am so happy I have friends.

Now. We all know how fantastic I am at rotating maps in my head. Haha, right.

So, I ended up on the exact opposite side of the city as I wanted to be. And as beautiful as Venice is, and as much as I like the small streets and alleys, at this point I was more creeped out and really just wanted to find my way back to the station. Luckily there was a vaporetto stop nearby that would take me right to the station.

Now, I was not entirely sure where to pay. Or how much it was. Or anything at all. So I asked a man standing in the hut where I would pay for the vaporetto.

He said something like "A bordo, o si può anche non pagare" (On board, or just don't pay). I think I made a horrified face, although it is hard to tell because my face muscles were so frozen, because he laughed.

When the vaporetto came, I still couldn't figure out where to pay. But I had read a sign about a 50 euro fine if you didn't, so I kept walking around the crowded boat trying to figure out where to drop coins into! Eventually it became so crowded that I had to stop wandering around like a lost chicken, so I stood in place holding my breath and hoping that no one would check for tickets. I was breaking the law. They would never let me back in the city!

Dramatic, much? Yes.

Finally, we made it to the station and no one came around checking for tickets. At this point I only had about an hour and a half until my train left. I had looked up directions to Ae Oche Pizzeria (which I had gone to with the parental units and sibling the last time we were here) at the restaurant this afternoon and started speed walking in the right direction. 

Even with the map picture on my iPod. And walking directions. I got lost. You see, street names on the map do not always correspond with the ones in real-life. After wandering in circles, I found the tiniest little street that you had to duck to go through because it was also a tunnel, and found the pizzeria.

From here it was pretty smooth sailing. I had known what I wanted when I came in. When I went here with my parents we ordered this pizza with pesto and it was pretty much the most delicious thing I have ever had. Ever.

Now, my dad will tell you that when we went here together that the waiters kept popping their heads in to give me looks. First of all, this is not even true, he just says it to umbarrass me. But also, I really hope this is not true because it defs did not happen this time and had it been true it would be quite the self-esteem blow and maybe a sign that the raccoon-eye makeup, black clothes, and semi-permanent scowl (it comes out after 14-22 washes) was working for me. 

The pizza was so good, but I had such a food baby and could
not finish it!

After I ate and had a food baby, I had to run to catch my train. For the most part I did not get lost on the way back, which was a relief. However, when I sat down in my seat on the train I did not feel too fantastic, and I did not know if it was the meat, the running on a food-baby, or the cold. Because after a long cold day, I looked like this:

Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer had a very shiny nose!
And if you ever saw it, you would even say it glows!

Well! At least I made it! I was exhausted when I got back to the hostel, and as much as I was looking forward to visiting Florence the next day, I was not looking forward to the 7:15 train time!

Italia: Il Secondo Giorno: Milano

Before I go on about what I did my second day in Italy, I have discovered something interesting I would like to share with all ya'll.

Italy is part of the United Kingdom.

I was shocked too! Who knew?!

Now if you are a little skeptical, allow me to present my evidence: Remember that post a little while ago-my open letter to Bank of America? In which they told me that Barclays only exists within the U.K.?

Well, Barclay's banks are all over Milan. So if Barclays are only in the U.K. and they are also in Milan I can conclude that Italy is part of the U.K.!

~ - ~ - ~

My second day in Italy, although my first full day, I walked around for about a zillion hours. 

I asked the hostel owner to show me where we were on a map of Milan, and he also showed me all sorts of points of interest, shopping areas, pretty things, and Il Duomo. 

For a good part of the day I was very anxious about taking pictures. I was crazy self-conscious about being pinpointed a tourist--if my bundled-up-ness did not make it obvious already. It took me quite some time before I was confident enough to actually pull out my camera and take pictures of all the pretty things I saw (there were many).

The first place I really stopped was Porta Venezia-This giant park with gardens, dog parks, and basically everything. It was so gorgeous there, especially since there were still brightly coloured leaves everywhere.

After this, I started walking towards Il Duomo. Now, here is where I made my first big mistake.

I walked right through the Piazza. Right. Through. Probably with a dazzled "OhmygosheverythingissoprettyAAAAAH" look on my face too.

So far, I had been doing a really good job at not talking to strangers. And avoiding all the people standing around selling umbrellas (Much like the guys in San Francisco who sell oranges and other produce on the corners, although a little more active in selling goods). So when a man stepped in my path and started asking me if I wanted to feed the pigeons, I was a bit startled. Where had he even come from?

I said "No, grazie" several times, but it didn't matter. He pulled out a handful of seeds and pigeons from all over dove in. I was pretty much shocked into place. I kept waiting for the flock to thin out so I could walk away, but before this could happen he grabbed my hand and shoved bird seed into it and within seconds I was covered in pigeons.

I was so. Freaked. Out.

I mean. I like birds and all. But I do not go around feeding them, and I certainly prefer the cute little colourful ones to pigeons. Also, if I were my germaphobic friend I am 99% sure I would have had a heart attack and just die on the spot. There were so many pigeons! And their beaks hurt when just pecking you!

After I extracted myself from this situation I speedily walked as far from Il Duomo as possible. Just as I was calming down, and feeling comfortable again, someone else stopped me to say something.

Here's the thing. For the most part, I think everyone deserves common courtesy. Which is to say that if someone engages me in a conversation I will reply, even if it is to dismiss them. I try to be polite to people, because even crazy homeless people on MUNI at 10PM on a Tuesday deserve common courtesy and politeness. I would also rather not anger or annoy someone already so unstable. Basically, unless it is a whistle, a beep, or a psst which I think is just plain rude (See the Adele quote, right), I try to reply when people talk to me. Sometimes, this is not the best course of action.

This leads up to when this man tried to hand me a leaflet, I said "No grazie" and kept walking. Then he called after me, asking if I spoke English. Now, I know I was in the clear. I could have kept walking! However, that common courtesy thing kicked in and I turned around and said yes.

He then asked if I had heard of the Church of Scientology.

I could not decide the best way to answer this. I went with "No" since I thought that if I said "yes" I would then be left to justify why I had not converted to it (I believe in the Flying Spaghetti Monster, it's much more legitimate and I don't have to justify myself to anyone, thankyouverymuch). 

He then said "Well, I have this video I can show you so you can learn, why don't you come with me"

Erm. No. Stranger danger! Nevermind that common courtesy stuff! I'm young, I have no idea what I am talking about! I told him I didn't have time, and walked quickly down the street.

At this point, I was a little fed up with people. And by "a little" I mean "a lot". I also resolved that if anyone else talked to me, I would pretend not to know English or Italian. I would just mutter a quick "No hablo inglés" and move in with life. 

I walked as far and fast as I could from the centre until I found myself on a street full of bakeries and the like. I then realised I was quite hungry.

Any normal person would have just picked a place and gone in and ordered. But as you guys know (or should, at least) I am not normal. I blame this on a combination of my dad, and growing up in "Freaksville" as some have been known to call the lovely city of San Francisco. 

I was pretty much scared out of my wits to go in and order something. You see, I couldn't remember how to say "I would like". I knew how to say "I want" but I was not about to use that! So, I kept walking and walking and racking my brain to remember what it was.

Finally, I remembered that "I would like..." is "Vorrei..."

From here, it should have been easy. Just pop into the next place and go crazy and get a Food Baby!

Erm. Haha good joke. I was still so scared that I would make a complete fool of myself that I kept walking, and walking, and walking-telling myself that I would go into the next place, and the next place.

Eventually, hunger really kicked in and I had no choice but to go into the next place I saw.

One of the best life decisions I have ever made. I ended up with some delicious foccaccia, although I was so hungry I didn't take a picture.

After walking quite far, I decided that I should loop back around, and walked up a street with canals (although they were largely dried out or otherwise quite shallow).

~ - ~ - ~

That evening I went to a nearby restarant that serves both Italian and Chinese food and had pennne arrabiata for supper.

It was so delicous. Oh my goodness. Then I had some nutella gelato to top it off. Also very good, although not as good as in Florence (more on that later).

Overall, despite the encounters with strangers, the day was quite good! I did have to get to bed early though, because I was taking an early train to Venezia (hands-down my favourite city ever, sorry San Francisco).