Florence, my love

We stuffed ourselves into seats of a hot Roman train, among an Italian family, whom I’m sure were cracking at least a few jokes in our direction.  But yeah, me no speak Italiana, so how could I know for sure unless of course they were making fun of “the lack of an Italian body frame” that is my man Lucas, trying to be comfortable in what was essentially half of the size of an average booth at any Cracker Barrel you might find in the USA.

A short walk to the hotel, and a short walk to pretty much anywhere worth seeing, Florence is bliss for transportation.  This was one of many reasons we both loved, LOVED Florence.  There were the casual walks through this gorgeous city, the art, the performance, the food, the history, the air…all of it was bliss.  Florence had a way of taking all of the best things we’d seen in Venice and Rome, made them even better.

And oh man, just when I thought it couldn’t get any better, we arrived at our cozy little nest of a bed and breakfast on the fourth floor of a very statuesque building, in the center of all the action.  I don’t think I’ve ever took so many pictures of a hotel room before, but I kinda went crazy once the place was ours.  Massive windows, open to the air and the street below, a growing Iris in the corner, authentic Italian furniture, and a view that could leave you looking out the window (and drooling) for hours.

The next few days were spent galavanting in the truest sense, around one of the most beautiful cities I’ve ever seen.  Everything was old and beautiful. Even the more modern shops seemed to have a deep respect for retaining the aesthetic of Florence.  One night Lu took me on a walk “to show me something”.  We wandered through the square beneath our building, watched a few street acts, treaded upon the famed Ponte Vecchio, and landed at a corner shop with a few paintings on display.

The piece at center was large and abstract, gorgeous and warm.  I loved it for many reasons, but mostly for the fact that it was married with a few others that were completely different in style, but just as striking.  This is something that Florence has a serious knack for, recognizing good art.  I think we’d all like to say we have good taste…but to be able to tell the difference between something that is good and something that is mind blowing requires a little more than a personal fancy for this or that.  Florence takes, like I said previously, pieces of the good in so many places, and well…celebrates them.  There is a sense of wonder here, and I like that.

Roma,

Where you can buy pizza by the pound, get your clothes washed at the laundromat, and then walk down the street, to just happen upon The Colosseum. Bizarre it was, to find strip malls, busy roads, and illegal street vendors all up in the business of one of the most historic places in Western Europe. I guess I expected the remains of the Roman Empire to have some sort of inherent magic in them, like they existed in a space separated from the hustle and bustle, away from the land of tourism and cheap souvenirs. Sort of like where I imagine The Stone Henge to be in my mind’s eye.

But alas, I was wrong. Rome didn’t necessarily disappoint me as much as it did surprise. We arrived all heavy laden with our bags, ready to do as the Romans. The most immediate memory I have of Rome is that it was hot, like a heavy handed hot, the kind that sort of sucks all the moisture out of you, making you really consider trying to lick the insides of your empty water bottle, just to get the last drop. Okay, maybe that’s a bit of an exaggeration but yeah, Rome is hot. Roma Calda.

Being that the transportation system in Rome isn’t exactly geared towards tourism, we walked more than we did in any other city when we were in Rome. I find that doing a good amount of exploration by foot in any city gives one a better cross-section of its culture, attitude, and diversity. And for these things, Rome is beyond fascinating. There are evidences of so many time periods, current and past, in Rome. Really seeing this city requires the same eye as one who’s a talented thrifter or antiquer. Sometimes you just have to dig a little, walk around the backside of a building to see the good stuff.

And that we did. We saw all those things Rome is most known for, The Colosseum, Roman Forum, Borghese, Vatican City, but the beauty for me, was in the back alleys. In the buildings constructed literally on top of pre-existing empires, in enthusiastic and flirty waiters attempting to cool tourists off with spray fans, in those original Corinthian columns just laying next to park benches, I saw so much movement backward and forward, so much evidence of the times we’re living in, and the choices we make to survive in the midst of hurting economies. In all of that, there is a strong essence of perseverance in the people of Rome. I hope that they do persist in these wavering times, and in doing so, inspire us to do the same.

Venice.

No other place on earth quite like it. How it came to be is part visionary minds, part pure ingenuity, and part well…miracle.

We made it here, after nothing short of a day of epic travel.  And I use “epic” in a legit way here, all you hipsters can step aside.  We left our place in St. Andrews at 7am, embarking on a journey of count em, 9 legs of travel, to arrive in Venice at approx 12:30am the next day.  We were still zinging from all the travel, all the movement, when we arrived on this floating land.  Anyone who’s heard about navigating Venice knows that you might as well throw your maps in the trash, cuz that just isn’t gonna work. But knowing it’d be so late and that there was little chance of us being able to ask anyone for directions, we tried to cover all grounds by getting written directions from the hotel, having a map with us, and drawing a map as well.  Even still, it took us about 20-30 minutes to find our way from the banks of Venice to our hotel that night, a journey that any other day there would end up taking about 5 minutes.  So, keep your sense of humor folks, and all your senses for that matter, because you’re going to need them whilst wandering the streets of this little town.

We only had two days in Venice.  The morning of the first we made perhaps our best decision while there.  We were tired from the craziness of the previous day (and night), and not feeling super excited about all the logistics that come with traveling, so we decided to walk.  That’s pretty much what we did all day and all night that first day.  We got lost intentionally, and in doing so, found important landmarks around the city that helped to orient us.  And it was such a good time! Probably one of the best days on the trip as a whole for me.  I think that in travel I tend to get caught up in getting purchase on every moment of every day.  Whether that be to see the sights, do specific activities in the area, or eat particular places, I gotta do it all, and somehow I get all “business” about it and end up missing the main purpose: A VACATION.

So we wanderlusters wandered, and hand in hand, explored one of the most beautiful, fascinating cities in the world. There is so much to see in Venice from both a historical and an artistic lens, but just walking those streets, peering into 17 layers of paint and earth and proof of people and time, I was hopelessly, aesthetically, falling in love.

I have always been swooned by decay.  Especially in manmade things.  I like the idea of the Earth taking things back, swallowing the big headed empires of the past and returning us to the oldest vision we have as a people, that of living in and being surrounded by nature. The fact that Venice is sinking in more ways than one should make me sad, but in it I see us being humbled, and I think we need that desperately as Americans in this day and age.

So cheers to Venice, for all who’ve walked its streets and painted its ceilings, for what it will become regardless of our efforts, and for the hope that decay brings all of us, that something is being made new.

From the South West coast of England we flew North, to the land of the Scots.

Scotland is gorgeous.  It’s green and it’s mossy and it’s mounted firmly to the earth with stout stone buildings that look as if they’ve been there since the Stone Ages.

In preparing for our time in Scotland, I contacted my trusty high school classmate and friend Josh, for some advice on Edinburgh and Fringe Festival.  Since he lives in St. Andrews, just a skip, hop and a jump away from Edinburgh, I had figured he’d be able to enlighten us to a few tips and hints on the area.  Little did I know that Josh would not only provide us with tons of useful information for traveling in Scotland, he’d also be ever so gracious as to offer his home for us to stay while there. AWESOME.

So we began in earnest, eager to explore the massive list Josh provided and thirsty for some great adventures.  We had four days to wander about Scotland, and chose to split them right in half.  Half of the time in St. Andrews, half in Edinburgh.

St. Andrews:

What a cool city, an obvious college town and dare I forget to say it, a golfers paradise.  In case you didn’t know, I’m ashamed to say I didn’t (forgive me please, I know only mini golf) that St. Andrews IS the birthplace of Golf, a sport that originated on this coast, about 600 years ago.

In addition to paying homage to the sport by sipping down a “Jigger Ale” at the Jigger Inn on the course, we also explored the town of St. Andrews.  Lucas, who has a very midwestern “fear” of eating fish, even tried some fish and chips at the Tailend.  He now likes fish “pretty much”, I’m happy to say.

But most notable of all the things we saw while in St. Andrews was the St. Andrews castle and cathedral ruins.  The castle, propped up on a rocky cliff facing the North Sea, was one of many built on this site since  the 1100′s.  We walked through the visitor center and learned about the rich history of this space, then ventured outside to check it out for ourselves.  That’s when we found the mine.

Retained to this day, on the side of the castle ruins, lies an entrance to a mine that was dug in 1546.  The short of the story was that a cardinal was murdered, his murderers took control of the castle, the authorities wanted it back so they decided to go about that underground, building a tunnel under the walls of the castle from the outside.  As it turns out, the “murderers” were hip to this and began building a countermine within the castle to try and stop them.  However, going off of only mere guesses aka. sounds in the grounds, they dug a pretty caddywompus and narrow excuse for a mine. Eventually the two mines meet, the battle ensues, and the “murderers” win.  But not for long, since the French forces then arrived and bombarded the castle shortly thereafter. Cool story no less, and even cooler that we got to go into this said mine.  The picture posted below is of Lucas entering the space where the mine and countermine met.  Needless to say, it was quite a small space, for quite a tall man.

Next we ventured down the street to the Cathedral Ruins, and probably one of the most beautiful ruin sites I’ve ever seen.  This church was Scotland’s largest and most incredible church in its prime, this is evident even in just strolling along the cathedral grounds.  I took lots of pictures here, there are a couple below I’d like to share.

Edinburgh:

Edinburgh was nothing short of greatness.  Imagine a throbbing metropolis, with a facade straight out of the early 19th century. This city was especially hoppin due to the Fringe Festival, which occurs over the month of August every year.  25 days with over 30,000 acts (theatre, street performance, music, and more).

Naturally, we were pretty overwhelmed as to just how one could even begin to choose one  show to attend.  So, we hopped in the ticket line, opened the ginormous catalogue of shows, and picked a page.  Meanwhile, we found ourselves being approached constantly by various actors and actresses advertising their shows, trying to reel in as many audience members as they could muster.  So we had a lot of conversations with those people, and a few of them won us over.  By the time we hit the ticket counter, we had made our decision.  All were great, all were very different (a theatre performance, a physical theatre performance, and an improve musical put on by a largely American troop). It was fantastic.

Between the castles on the cliffs of the city, and the very strong heartbeat of the artists who live there, we were won over by Edinburgh, and would love to return someday.

Thanks for reading this post! Up next week: Venice

Greetings from a little town called Truro on the SW coast of England.

Here, is the home of John and Katie (my beau’s best friend and his lovely wife), oodles of pasties, cream teas, and well just about everything else one might call “Cornish”.

England is truly enchanting, rich in history, in color, in good hearty people.

This is where our journey began, and how nice it was, to land right in the adorable household of John and Katie.  Not only were they great hosts and and experts on the area, they were just about the friendliest people you’d ever hope to meet.

We started our trip to the Truro area with a walk around this little town.  We explored the cathedral, walked along the river, and commented on various English oddities, like “why do they have 20+ Curry restaurants in one teeny tiny little town?”, this unfortunately, we have still not figured out.

The next day held an adventure in St. Ives. This town had some serious charm.  I can see why a lot of the English call the Cornish Coastline and the coastal towns dotted along it, a perfect place to take a holiday. We walked along the harbor (down the longest dock I’ve ever seen), had a word with the ocean, and ventured up a hill to an ancient church and a beautiful view.  With that view came the sight of a very Very old cemetery on a hill leaning almost flush with the sand of the beach. As we approached it, its age became clear. Haunting it was, seeing these beautiful tombstones so close to one another, much like animals cuddling close to keep warm in the winter.  We were all pretty quiet walking through that place, reading the family names, noticing the artful renditions in stone, reflecting on our own fleeting days. It was a good moment.

In the next few days we would eat pizza, play games, rent a car, travel through Cornwall to places like Lizard Beach, Tintagel Castle, and the Minack Theatre.  Driving down those roads was not an easy feat, luckily my very brave boyfriend was at the wheel.  Take one part “driving on the left side of the vehicle” add a little “crazy winding narrow roads” and a dash of “8 to 9ft stone walls covered in moss on either side of the road” and there you have it, driving in Cornwall. But we made it, thanks to a little thing called GPS, and a lot of bravery!

A definite highlight in those days was seeing a play at the famed Minack Theatre, an outdoor theatre and stage made of stone and grass, set upon the beautiful English coastline.  A very determined woman named Rowena Cade planned an nearly built all of it by time of her death in 1983.  Go here (http://www.minack.com/history.htm) for more info on the history of the theatre.

All in all it was an incredible little snapshot of Cornwall we got, and we’re looking forward to going back soon. Now, the pictures.