Now that I’ve spent some time in Italy, I come to one major conclusion about the difference between me and the Italians: I pee much slower–or stiller–than they do. The bathrooms have lights that are either on timers or motion detectors, and I have yet to pee in one of them when the lights didn’t shut off mid-pee. Important stuff, I know.
We’ve long left Rome, which means I have no more trite expressions to use (when in Rome, do as the Romans… and leave Rome. Oh, look! I had one left!).
In Florence, one morning at the Mercato Centrale had my boy deciding to become a vegetarian. I’m pretty sure it was the pig testicles that did him in. The brains, didn’t help.
When his sister pointed out that he hates veggies, and would therefore be a breadatarian, he relented and decided he’d merely go kosher. I asked him to wait till as got home, as he’s living on salami and bread here. “That’s not beef?” he asked with incredulity. No, my friend, it is not. He agreed to wait till we returned home.
In the meantime, we’ve left my parents and sister to fend for themselves and we are now eating–I mean, touring–through Tuscany on our own. Today, we had an amazing lunch at an agritourismo, where we had an exquisite fried pecorino cheese and a lovely sampling of three local wines. I will be dreaming of that cheese…
What else have we done? Been to the Uffizi, the Academia, the Bargello.
Learned to make pasta.
Visited a monastery.
And eaten. Did I mention I’ve eaten a bit?
Okay, back to the tough life. Let’s see if, for once, I can beat the light timer! Ciao!
