I'm not short, I'm conveniently travel-sized.

The next day Anna and I go to the Spice Market and buy tea ("luuuuv tea. for more romanticeesm.") and endure furthering questioning about our heritages. ("Where you fromm?") I am really tired of that question. Then the Grand Bazaar, which is ridiculous. In my four hours there I only buy three things, but I think I take thirty pictures--carpets, tea sets, gold jewelry, loose Turkish clothes and tacky Western fake designer clothes, pointy shoes, pillows, pashminas, china, Turkish eyes, windup whirling dervishes, tin pots, paintings, enamel jewelry. Everyone shouts and tries to put their arms around me and take me back to the stores, and I let one nice boy pour me tea and tell me about how carpets are made, and escape before I wasted too much of his time but after I demur on his invitation to go to the football game. I bargain--not like a Berber but like a reasonably savvy and polite American. I talk extensively to an artist who creates beautiful glass tea sets. And then I walk home--half an hour, on feet that are throbbing less than they did in Italy, past cellphone stores on thousand-year-old streets. I pass the bakery that sold me the perfect apple pastries the day before and buy three more, getting a half block and two bites away before I realize I have been eating walnut and apple pastries this time. I go back and get macaroons instead, but have no reaction at all to the walnuts. Did I not eat them? It seems unlikely.

On my last day in Istanbul I am lonely. I'm tired of being on my own and afraid that my loneliness is unattractive, so I mostly do not attempt to make plans with anyone in the guest house. Instead, I take the tram across the Bosphorus bridge and end up getting off at the fish market, which smells salty and gross but delicious in a way. There are cats smarming all over the place, sweet-talking the fishmongers, and seagulls trying the same moves with less success. There is a gnarled man selling pomegranate juice for a lira, and I watch his shaking hands press me a glass against a fresh plump field of oranges. I sit down with juice, watching the catch come in from the river, listen to the echoing muezzins, and feel less lonely.

Eventually I get up and find a ferry that will be taking a trip up the Bosphorus and am pleased to find that there are no other English speakers on the boat. The ferry ride is not exciting but is very picturesque. The wind is tangy and the waves are slate grey.

That night, after a dinner I can't remember, I decide to just go to bed early. I have no plans and I am too exhausted to go out and feeling guilty for not going out, and I have to get up at 4 am. I turn off the lights at 9:30.

At 11, I am still awake. I decide that it is my craving for Turkish yogurt and honey that is keeping me awake, so I pull on some jeans and start upstairs to the dining room. My host Emrah is just coming upstairs and asks me if I am going to bed or if I want to join him for a narghile--shisha. I really just want to go to bed, but how can I turn down a trip to a non-touristy narghile place with a native? I put on shoes and we shuffle out of the touristy neighborhood we are in and into a maze of crooked cobblestone streets and stray cats and drizzly rain. The narghile place is dusty and fragrant and padded with rugs and pillows. No one else is there except for two older men playing backgammon. Emrah and I sit by the window, smoke apple shisha and eat some bready, eggy dish with tomatoes. I get to sleep at 1.

The next day I travel for 24 hours. During my 6 hour layover in Madrid, I find that my credit card has been demagnetized, and I have 40 Turkish lira to my name. I trade them in for 18 euros, buy two Metro tickets, head into the city and find a tapas bar, and shove the rest of the money across the bar and gesture. Feed me for this much. The proprietor thinks I'm so funny he brings me much more than 15 euros worth of seafood tapas: razor clams, anchovy salads, langoustines, prawns. Or maybe one of the old Spanish men sitting nearby pays for me dinner. I can't know. We don't share any languages at all.

I haven't recorded anythıng ın three days so I hope I don't forget anythıng! I am on my host's laptop ın the dining room, watchıng ıt get dark over the Bosphorus as the sun sets. I have just had tea and am about to take a nap before dınner. I fınd myself speaking very carefully ın short sentences lately so than peopole can understand me--and yet my punctuatıon on foreign keyboards is shot to hell. Perhaps you have noticed.

Three days ago, I woke up early and went to the food market ın florence, where ı bought strawberries, vın santo, and bıscotti (just pretend that ş ıs a comma--ı canit fınd the real one althought I seem to have typed one by accıdent.) I walked down the ponte vecchıo to see the jewlers shopsş and then went tothe uffızı gallerıes. ı was delıghted to see the bırth of venusş but was not moved my much else ın the collectıon--a few pıeces mad eme stop and stare but ı got so used to the natıvıty and the pıeta scenes that I just strolled slowly around much of the museum. ı,m (there ıt ıs!) Im hopıng to get to the Prado ın Madrıd on the way back, so maybe that wıll be more excıtıtng. then on the way backö grabbed a convnıent panıno (even convenıent food ıs good ın Italy!) ad hopped on the traın.

So ends the part of Italy I lıked.

Bologna was a paın ın the ass. People were rude (ıf you get on the traın before I get off and the doors are closıng and threatenıng to take me ıllegally to mılan, you have to get out the way!), homeless men accosted me twıce ın the fırst half hourş and ıt wasnit even that pretty. my hostel was awful and far away from the cıty--a bad choıce on my part. ı dıd get to go to kaths frıends house for dınner, whıch was fantastıc--thw wıfe makes her own olıves and marmadale, and they served pasta bolognese and cheese and homemade bread along wıth those treats. ıt was very comfortable to be there, not weırd at all. (we had a lot of wıneş and they loved the vın santo and bıscottı ı brought them.)

Then up super-early (4 am) and to the aırport, and a short 14 hours later I was ın Istanbul, where ı ımmedıately befrıended a hılarıous german gırl who luckıly speaks perfect englısh, and we wen tout to the baths. they were amazıng--huge gorgeous and very old marble rooms wıth heated platforms to lıe on and steam bıllowıng around the room (so at least some of the other naked people were obscured). I had a soapscrub, whıch gets allll the dırt out of your skın, and an olıve oıl massage, so ı smelled lıke olıves for awhıle. then we has shısha and kebabs and apple tea before we went home.

Thıs mornıng we started early and ended up doıng a lot of the sıghts ın one day--the blue mosque, the Hagıa Sophıa, Topkapı palace, the cıstern, and even a quıck famılıarızatıon trıp to the bazaar, where we are goıng for real tomorrow. we dıdnit rush, but they are all so close and easy that we had seen them all before 6. we also got to the blue mosque just as the call to prayer went upş and ı sat ın the sun lıstenıng, tranfıxed by the otherworldly sound. we had pastrıes (whıch ı ordered usıng the cell phone text message that ısıl had sent me to show people that ı was allergıc to nuts--at least that,s what ı thınk ıt says. the pastry makers laughed pretty hard when ı showed them.) ı have met lots of frıendly dogs and cats who want to be petted, ınstead of just sufferıng through ıt. ı probably shouldn,t pet them but they are so nıce and ı mıss otter. oh, and two boys asked to take my pıcture! so funny.

More later--want to nap before dınner, ad runnıng out of tıme. Love!
K

Just have to brag about my evening for a sec:

After I finished writing that last email, I decided to go to a little village just outside of Florence called Fiesole (fee-AY-sol-eh) for the evening. On my way out I realized I was staHARVing so I stopped into a cafe for a sandwich. They had the most amazing-looking spread, so I decided to stick around and eat there, so for dinner I had very good chianti, olives, caprese, tiny pizzas, tiny sandwiches filled with fontina, parmesan, pecorino, ricotta, prosciutto, some lovely dark cured pork like jamon iberico, salmon, and truffles (not all together of course, but did you hear me, I HAD A TRUFFLE SANDWICH), penne with sauce, and whatever the Italians call pate. It was fantastic! And I was the only tourist! God, I love that.

Then I hopped my bus to Fiesole, which is such a beautiful name that it makes me think about Solla Saloo from Dr. Seuss. The sun was just setting and I wandered around the tiny curvy streets and looked out over olive groves and the city and smelled wood smoke. Then I sat in a cafe and had cioccolato before I headed home.

I am going to bed super early tonight so I wont be tired for the wine tour tomorrow. I will probably be awake from 5-6, which always happens in Europe, and which really bugs me when I'm on my own. Its dark, and theres no one here to look after me! I suppose it is karmic retribution for making Mike think about zombies right before going to sleep on Christmas.

Books now. Mom, youre not boring. Dad, no one will believe me if I pretend to be working on top secret documents. They might believe me if i pretend to study for a geometry final, though. David, thats so funny you mentioned the yellow umbrella, because I had just remembered earlier this week. About 20% of the umbrellas in use here are torn (toe up)--losers in battles with stronger umbrellas. They make me think about the kite tournaments in the Kite Runner.

So the wine tour was today, and was as close to perfect as real-life can ever be! Angela, the guide, took us down to Montalcino, where we walked around the pretty little town for awhile before heading to the first winery, Fanti, where we had a pretty basic we-squeeze-grapes-here sort of tour. Then we left without tasting anything, much to my alarm, and visited a nearby Abbey (San'Antimo) and listened to the monks sing Gregorian chants before heading back to the winery for lunch and (whew) wine tasting. (The monks are on a schedule, they are swamped!) We had prosciutto and salami and pecorino with honey and oil and tuscan bread (all very local) with our expressive, structured Brunello and Rossos, sitting next to a fire even though it was mostly warm enough. My, the Italians are generous pourers. Then to another winery, San Carlo (with a friendly dog!), and more wine, and home. That's five sentences covering eight hours. :) I am tired and not doing the trip justice, but I took pictures which will tell it better than I could anyway. The only bad thing was that I fell asleep coming home and missed a good twenty minutes of beautiful countryside. I could feel my eyes sliding shut and couldn't fight it off! I was mugged by a nap, like Mike.

I got lost coming back from the drop off point, as I was searching for a particular famous gelato place and got turned around. It was happy sort of lost, though--warm (it hasn't rained all day) and with only mildly sore feet. And plus I had gelato. I ran out before I reached the leather market this time, but luckily they were closing up shop. When I got back the Argentinian girl and I went for dinner, sort of--I mostly just dipped my bread in her calamari florentine sauce. I did rally for biscotti dipped in vin santo (a thick, honey-tasting dessert wine), however.

Tomorrow I'm headed to the food market nearby, and then to the Uffizi, where 3 Euros has purchased me the right to go inside at 12:45 rather than wait in line for four hours. I'm a little suspicious, as if it is that easy, why does anyone ever stand in line? Then on to Bologna, where I have a dinner date. Don't wait up. I won't be in till at least 6pm your time. :)

Ciao Bellas,

QUICK RUNDOWN OF YESTERDAY: Wow, I cannot deal with this keyboard.  Yesterday morning I went to Piazza de San Pietro for Easter Mass and heard the Pope...but just barely could I hear him over the thunderstorms going on directly overhead. It doesn't matter for me, as he was speaking Italian anyway, but I do wonder what the devout thought was going on with God. It was obscenely crowded, literally--Italians sure are handsy. The crowd was very happy, though, and there was lots of cheering and a beautiful choir.

Then I grabbed my bags and hopped on a trian to Florence--after the crowd I was pleased to have a compartment to myself. Heres a thing I hadn't figured on about traveling by myself--anyone else who is on his or her own is much more lonely than I am, and so they all want to talk to me. All the time. So it was nice to have a quiet hour on the train. The countryside was lovely, and I saw sheep (including running lambs!) and goats and horses and hill towns. Mom, you would have loved it. My hostel (because thats what it is) is actually adorable and clean and nice, and I have three nice girl roommates and a private bath and computer.   My roommates and I had pizza for dinner, and then one of them, a party girl from Argentina, and I went out to a wine bar that the front desk guy had told us was the best and most important in Florence. We shared two gorgeous reds: a sparky, bright Chianti and an earthy cab or something. I am still looking for nebbiolo, as it is more of a piedmont thing.

Today we all four got up early-ish and went on the hostel's walking tour of Florence, which was only partially rainy. I meant to leave after the Ponte Vecchio, but out guide was so lovely I limped around with them for another hour after that. We saw the Cattedral and the Baptistry and the Medici palaces and Dantes house, and the leather markets and about twenty other statues, fountains, churches, and piazzas.   I left them at the Cattedral and went up and up and up into the Duomo for a staggering view of everything we had just spent three hours looking at from the ground. Then I walked back through the leather markets, neatly avoiding purchasing anything by having sticky gelato in my hands, and ran back here to check on my wine tour tomorrow. During the tour I asked the guide if she knew where Piazza dei Cavalleggeri was, and she said it was in Siena. Bah! I remembered that my wine guide also gives tours leaving from Siena and I was sure shed booked me on the wrong tour. But all is well--apparently it is not nonexistent in Florence, just inconvenient. Plus I called her to be sure. :) Hooray, I still get to wine tasting tomorrow and its not supposed to rain!

To celebrate being dry now, I went to wash my hair and got out after I heard a funny noise outside. It is hailing.

P.S. I got to pet a dog at the train station. He kept offering me his paw and then looking at puzzedly at my empty hands like This one's broken.

So I tried to find a restaurant that Kath recommended to me, but I think she got the place wrong because while there is a Piazza Sant'ignacio, there is not a restaurant within. So I went to the next piazza over and sat in one of those sidewalk places with red checked tablecloths and candles and multi-lingual waiters. Good pasta, disappointing tomatoes. Waiter who called me his queen and proclaimed his devotion. Hilarious!

Then I took myself on an inadvertent tour of Rome, as Statione San Pietro is surprisingly far from St.Peter's Basilica. I had just walked in (with dry shoes!) and headed for the kitchen for water, when a girl came in with two wine bottles and offered them to me as she was leaving in the morning. She even found me a wine glass. I pouredmyself some chianti and promised to pass on some wine to the people in my next B&B, and she blew me a kiss and went to bed. Hee! Then I walked into the computer room and found a Mexican woman I had talked to before. I told her there was vino in the cucina although I couldn't remember if "cucina" was Spanish or Italian (doesn't matter in this case), and she jumped up to pour herself a glass When she came back she said Salut! and I responded with Cheers! and then I said Cin Cin! as that's what Italians say if I remember,and she starts giggling and tells me that Cin Cin in Spanish means dirty man parts.

This keyboard is exhausting, and I have mass in the morning. Love and kisses.

Hello again! Eventually I will have to buy a notebook and start writing stuff down, but for now you guys get my journal entries. Years from now when I think of Rome I will remember the Colisseum (and maybe how to spell it), the Palatine Hill, the Sistine Chapel and the Vatican, the gelato, and hopefully whatever I end up eating tonight, but for sure I will remember the sea of umbrellas.

It rained all day. Hard. When I approached the line for the Vatican museum, I smiled at the colorful bobbing umbrellas and took a picture, but I stopped smiling when it took me ten minutes to walk back to the back of line at speed. Plus the line wasn't moving. I finally got to the end, and realized the Sistine Chapel would be closed by time I got there. So I sprung for a guide who bundled me and a friendly couple into the front of the line and gave us a three-hour tour of the museums and the chapel. The chapel was breathtaking, and they don't let you take pictures inside so I photographed everything in the musems for you instead. Then I metroed (how is it possible that they have a subway in Rome-and where is the question mark on this keyboard) to the Colisseum (still raining) and had another tour (aren't you proud, Mike?) with a very grumpy guide who sighed and got annoyed whenver asked a question and rolled his eyes when we wanted to stop walking to look at stuff. God. It thought it was pretty hilarious, althouh all the Brits on the tour kept calling him a "wonkah" and saying he needed to go to "chom school." Luckily we got a new guide for the Palatine Hill (stilllll raining), which lookedlike Arcadia. She was cute, and apropos of nothing promised us that they never let the bitchy guide out the Colisseum, so we wouldn't get him at their other sites. Hee. I met three girls from Alexandria and talked to them for most of the tour, and they invited me to go out to dinner but when our first choice restaurant was closed and they decided to take in more sightseeing before dinner, I took my leave and gleefully went home to take off my wet socks. (Still raining.)

I am already totally used to propositions and will probably be quite annoyed when I get home and the frequency of them is reduced. So far at least I am far from lonely. Tonight I am going to an enoteka for dinner, which was recommended by the Irreverent Guide to Rome...which, come to think of it, was published before the euro came out so maybe I ought to look it up first. Hey,while trying to make a smily face I found the question mark! ? It is not marked as such.

| am here and safe,my feet already hurt,\i'm smiling, and my belly is fullof gelato and margherita pizza. That pretty wellsums it up! \I am already back in the B^B preparing to goto sleepbecause I got very little rest on the plane. *Mike, I seriously cannot fathom how you manage to keep yourself from grabbing teenage travelers by th e neck and shaking them. \I had to ask one of them to keep his elbows far enough out of my seat to avoid poking me hard in the ribs, tell two of them twice thattheir loud talking was disturbing others' sleep, ask one boy to chew with his mouth closed because ITWASTHAT LOUD (in allfairness he was wearing an iPod and didn';tknow), and ask the woman behind me not to grab my seat to leverage herself up out of hers. My old-lady whining had no permanent effect, however,and when one of their schoolchums came over to chat and said he wanted to switch and sit with them \I was like THANK YOU I LOVE YOU EVEN THOUGH YOU ARE TWELVE. \so it is possible that I was a little cranky upon arriving in Rome.

My B^B is a very chill little flat with about eightrooms. I do have a private one, which looks out into the laundry yard (i have a soft spot for those). ithas internet,yay,and a stocked fridge for guests which is kind of great. The woman who checked me in advised me notto go to the \colisseum tonight because the \pope was speaking for good friday,but obviously I had to go people-watch. I gotlots of roman-watching in,but missed the popehimself. No biggie,i'll see him \sundaymorning. \we're having brunch. One of the best partsof people watching was all the nuns hanging out on the Colliseum grounds, andfluttering about--you can tell they love that pope! Itwas juststarting to drizzle,.and the floodlights made the dampair glow, so the whole place was lit up in silver,and there were confused pigeons flying around the \Colisseum. and peering down at the crowds.

I also visited the \spanish steps,whichwere crushingly crowded, and the Trevi Fountain, which was much more beautiful than i expected. \I know everyone says this about Rome,but the best thing so far is wandering around and suddenly happening upon a ruin oir a work or art. I grabbed apizza for dinner and got asked for directions twice--either because I look like i know what i'm doing or because there re no actualromans on the streets tonight. they are all hangin with the pope. Then I got some gelato, which is like ice cream squared,and walked back to the subway as it started to rain in earnest. Then I got asked out twice by VERY confident roman men wholikedmy yellowumbrella.

Tomorrow is the \collisseum in earnest, and the \sistine \chapel and \st. peter's.I'mstilltrying to decide if i should clue the management of this B&B into the problem of their English name. 1 step to St. Peter's,indeed.

So it turns out I'llhave more than enough time to run into Madrid for lunch on the way back--where should I go?

Love,
K

Six days from departure and I am well into the arrrrrgh, no, PLANES stage of travel planning. I have barely been able to get myself out of bed this week due to a stubborn circadian rhythm that says “IT IS STILL DARK. DO NOT MOVE OR NIGHT BEARS WILL EAT YOU,” in fact, it is all I can do to stay out of bed between the time I get home and say, 10 o’clock, and in six days I’m supposed to get on a plane, fly to an entirely different time zone, be all stumbly and jetlagged and drink a lot of wine? That’s a great idea. I’m regretting my choice to fly into Rome, where my activities will involve lots of walking and appreciating and being alert, then flying out of Bologna, where my activities will involve mozzarella and prosciutto. Why are they not switched? Because I am foolish.

I know, call the waaaaahmbulance. Get me a waahmburger and some French cries. But I’m too tired to fully appreciate my good fortune right now. (Although the idea of the Turkish bath is soothing.)

In other awesome travel news, I have lucked out twice in a big way on the last few days. Mike’s parents were generous enough to give us their timeshare points for this summer, so we booked a week in Porto Seguro, Brazil, along with Carl and his girlfriend. It’s the hottest vacation spot for 20-something Brazilians, according to the interwebs. I think it is pretty hilarious that we are basically going to Ocean City, Brazil, only with whale-watching and nudity. I canNOT wait.

The second way I lucked out was to win two tickets on jetBlue (there are perks to working in the travel industry), partially for being awesome at my job and partially out of sheer luck. They did the drawing near my desk while I was dealing with production people on the phone and trying to plan for my work trip to New Orleans, so everyone else was crowded around for the drawing and I had to put my hand over the receiver and mouth “Thank you!” when my name was called. Now my colleagues are going to hate me even more than they used to, but I get to go to the Dominican Republic, so pbbb.

The trouble with going for three weeks between updates is that if you have even a reasonably interesting life, your occasional updates start to sound like Christmas card letters. March was a very busy month for us! I just returned from New Orleans, where I ran a very successful business summit and ate a lot of crawfish etouffee and beignets! Mike and I are planning trips to the Dominican Republic and Brazil, and looking forward to summer! We went to the wedding of my college roommate, where I ran into a bunch of my old sorority sisters, and found myself singing Theta songs and clapping along with the rest of them! Oh, and little Otter killed another rat—a big one this time, almost a foot long! I’ve enclosed a picture of him holding it!

The party at the Swedish embassy turned out to be fabulous enough that I am now going to spend the next couple of months trying to finagle invitations to other various embassy parties and checking out the International Club webpage a lot. Whee! Beautiful space, good music, lots of people I knew, and more than one gentleman who should be giving lessons on how to effectly flirt with women without grabbing them inappropriately or talking about how important it is to put a woman's needs first....if you know what I mean. (Does this happen to everyone, or do I just look like the kind of girl who must be appeased?)

Also! Went to see my mom, who's hanging out at home for awhile with a broken ankle. Made a pie. Checked out the new wine bar, Cork, although in retrospect, I should have just stayed in bed with my book. Mike had a few people over for the Superbowl, and helped by happily eating anything that was put in front of me. EZ Cheese on pigs-in-a-blanket? SURE!

I also went to see if I could help out at the shelter, despite the volunteer schedule being full, and it's a good thing I did because the shelter was packed yesterday. We had something like nineteen eight-week-old puppies, and every recently-moved-in couple in DC wanted one. We don't show puppies without a volunteer or staff member present, so everyone was fighting over the three volunteers that were available for showings. I think I showed six puppies, and the most popular one, Dumpling, had to come meet three different families while I was there. It must have been exhausting. By the third time I picked her up and headed for the showing room, she put her chin down on my shoulder and took a nap on the way.

My boss is not here today, and I have a cozy sweater and a bouncy ponytail swinging against the back of my neck everytime I turn my head. Obviously that means it's very difficult for me to concentrate on work. Like the rest of the population that works within sight of a window today, I am sighing regretfully every thirty seconds over the fact that I am not in fact at home with a crackling fire and a damp dog on the couch with me and a book.

Speaking of dogs and books, I have finally gotten around to reading "Eat Pray Love," and I was just sort of finding it promising until I got to the chapter in which she describes her pulled-in-from-many-traditions religious beliefs, and what she means when she says "God" (apparently a major character in this book). Way before the time this book takes place, the author had a dog: a shelter dog of uncertain parentage, with the best qualities of all of her at least ten breeds. She was brown. Every time someone asked the author what kind of dog it was, she would say, "She's a brown dog." And that's her vision of God. What kind of God does she believe in? "A magnificent God." This is so fantastic, because that is exactly what I say when people ask me what kind of dog Otter is! (Brown, not magnificent. Well, that, too.) I love this book so much already, and she hasn't even left for Italy yet.

Watched Lost last night, and watched Mike's heart break over that Pedigree commercial with the dog in the pound, wagging and waiting to be adopted. As soon as the commerical was over, he got up from the couch and brought Otter inside so we could both snuggle him. Otter was still in a rat-chasing mood and DID NOT WANT to be snuggled. NOOOO THEY BE PETTIN MY EARS!

Also went to the gym, which was full of a grunting guy who kept making a huge fuss about how much weight he was lifting and then dropping the weights. I loathe that guy. I just want to fit comfortably into my current wardrobe, and maybe get a smily little endorphin high and learn about what Jamie-Lynn is doing with that baby while I'm at it; so please quit roaring. It is difficult for me to keep my face in a polite, non-disgusted expression when you are so revolting.

In the kitchen at my office there is aposted dress code, with columns for acceptable and non-acceptable. They are very specific, and imply that management feels we are very stupid and need to be told not to wear "bib overalls" to the office. Also included is this terrifying line:

"As with all policies, careful adherence to the rules is essential for smooth operations."

Swedish Embassy party tonight! Bring on the au pairs!