It’s been a couple of days. Mostly because I feel increasingly less interesting. 

What do you want to hear about? Another day, another unbelievably beautiful moment. Series of moments. Rest, good food, wine galore. And beauty all around. 

On Tuesday, after my trip to St. Peter’s and a couple of failed attempts at the Castel Sant’Angelo, I decided to walk down to the Colosseum and the Roman Forum. That is, after I send about 10-15 lbs. of things back home. I’ve gotta lighten my load for the trek out. 

To be honest, I did not do enough research about this, mostly because I had not planned on going to the Colosseum. Can’t really tell you why, but I hadn’t.

But wow. The entire Roman forum is beautiful. Ancient ruins, but you can feel how wonderful it must have been. Makes me think about some of our site plans and master plans. How do I bring this back? Full of people and activity. The birds are incredible. And the trees. They’re magnificent. And poppies, just growing out among the grass and weeds. 

I really love poppies. Maybe because I don’t see them ever in the states. They look so delicate and I love their shape. Their brilliant red color in the sea of green. 

I walked through and made my way to the Colosseum. Everything sold out for the day, oh well. So I walked around. I’m continually amazed by the engineering of these structures. The materiality, the sculptural quality, the size, the proportion. It’s really incredible. 

They are filming a movie and some of the roads are closed. I’ve seen them around the city. Today it’s a parade scene! With elephants!

I walk and get lunch and walk and walk. The sun is out, so it’s really warm. 

Back to my room and then more walking, a light dinner, and then some more walking and wandering. I head back to the hotel to pack. I’m very excited—I sent things back, so it should be easier. Not so much, but a little bit. 

I wake up, get some breakfast, and take this little puppy lady to the Pantheon for a photo. Don’t laugh. She rides around in my bag, but sometimes I forget about her. I still don’t know if this was for Ellie or for Paul, but that’s ok. I smile every time I see her at the bottom of my bag. 

Even though I’ve packed a little less, I still get a cab. The very nice ladies at the apartments try to get me to take the bus—cheaper. I’m sorry, I’d rather take a taxi. I do not feel like figuring out the bus situation today and missing my train. 

Again, an anxious traveler, so I get to the train station about an hour early even though I know the routine. I find a bookstore at the station. Books in English? Si! Thank goodness! I don’t have to keep reading on my phone. Find a couple (since I also have room in my bag now) and find a spot to sit and read until my train. 

Board the train and text with a friend for a while. It’s nice. Takes my mind off sitting backwards and getting slightly motion sick. Please don’t barf. 

Firenze. I walk off my train. It feels empty. Where is everyone? 

I start walking to my hotel. It’s only 18 minutes away. I can do this. 

As I get closer, the streets become increasingly narrower, the buildings taller. Much fewer people, much much fewer cars. As I get closer, almost no cars, but more people. I keep missing my turns because the “street” doesn’t even look wide enough for me to walk down. 

Finally here. Sweaty. So I take my shirt off and lie down. Vacation. 

I wander around a bit. Right outside the door is the Ponte Vecchio, and literally just around the corner is the Galleria degli Uffizi. Unreal. Walk a bit further, the Palazzo Vecchio. A little further is Santa Maria del Fiore. My god. 10 minutes and I’ve seen some of the most incredible parts of the city.

Both Milan and Rome were so different, but wonderful in their own way. I hope I saw the best parts of both. Everyone incredibly kind, everything incredibly beautiful. But so, so different. 

And Florence different than the two. But again everyone so incredibly kind. Thank you. I need kindness. Everyone does. But somehow this feels extra special in certain moments.

I grab dinner at a small cafe around the corner. A couple walks in and sits at the table next to me. I notice the two women sitting next to them, speaking in French, giggling, gesturing to the couple next to me, and then staring at the woman. Just staring. 

Finally she says, “Can I help you?”

The older woman says “No…”

And so she says, “Ok, then why are you staring at me? That’s very rude.”

The older woman mumbles something, perhaps embarrassed. 

It is tense. I can tell she’s upset and her husband is anxious, bouncing his leg under the table. I know about that. I’m sitting on the sidelines of this, but we are all so close.

I look over, “Where are you guys from?”

The guy answers, “New York. What about you?

“I’m from Memphis. How long have you guys been in Florence?”

We continue to talk. She finally joins the conversation.

We share our stories, this is their honeymoon, they’re from Brooklyn, off to Rome tomorrow. 

The two women on the other side leave. 

The guy thanks me, “Thank you for talking to us. You really calmed her down.”

She says, “Yeah, I could tell they were talking about me. I’m sorry, I don’t know if you heard any of that?”

I did but didn’t make a big deal, I could tell she was embarrassed for making everything so uncomfortable. 

“It’s all good. You’re good. Don’t worry about it at all.”

We continue talking. They give me restaurant suggestions for Venice. I tell them about Rome. 

They get up to leave, I congratulate them on their marriage, and they wish me luck on my travels.

Kindness and love. It’s all that ever really matters.

I woke up today and got breakfast at the hotel. It’s really great, a little bit of everything. 

Walking around again. Leather stores everywhere. I’ve been wanting a leather jacket for probably years now, but haven’t found one I really like/don’t really want to pay for one. I find a small shop and walk in. 

The man who owns it is very kind, “Ciao. Can I help you with anything?” He’s owned a number of leather goods shops for 30 years now.

I like this one, but it’s not my size. He helps me find one, only two of this particular style in the entire shop. A pattern from one of his friends who makes purses for him, a pattern from the 60s. He tells me it’s one of the best ones he has. 

I look around but stick with my original pick. “Yes, I would not choose anything other than this one,” he says.

I book tickets to go to the top of il Duomo (after texting about the Grizzlies kicking ass, a text to Emily: “I’m about to walk up Brunelleschi’s dome. That’s all I do these days is walk up domes.”)

I finally get there, stand in line, and start walking up. Very similar to the last—tight walk, lots of people—though the way down is also the same as the way up, not separate. People tight against the wall when we cross paths. Not enough room for that, but it’s fine. 

Then out to the Campanile and up. So many steps. Incredible views. Incredible breeze. 

Then back down. To the Baptistery. 

I love where this is located, on the street, so close to everything. And it’s so incredibly beautiful. Different from the Cathedral in Milan, more like a patterned tapestry, a mosaic. I’ve learned about Brunelleschi in every art history, architecture history, art class I’ve ever taken. I love it. 

Lunch then back to the room to rest before dinner. Dinner at a bistro right down a street from il Duomo. I can see it. And hear bells during dinner. Beautiful.

I buy some art from one of the art vendors on the street. The pieces are different from the others. Etchings with brush strokes to obscure the image a bit. He tells me about the process. The images feel like a memory. Only 15 euros, 25 for both.

“Why you travel alone? You not find no one to travel with?”

“No. No, going it alone.” I always feel slightly uncomfortable telling people I’m alone. I have to gauge the situation each time…

“Ah well. Is good and bad, yeah? Good is, you free! And if you find nice boy and fall in love well…where you from?”

“Memphis, Tennesse.”

“Ah. Ok, Tennesse.”

“You know Elvis Presley?”

“Ah yes, yes!”

“He’s from there.”

“Ah handsome guy. Are the women there beautiful?”

“Uh. Yes?”

“Well you are very beautiful to my eyes. Your eyes are beautiful. Blue.”

“Oh grazie. The people here are beautiful too. It’s amazing…”

“Yeah we each have our world, your world in your head, my world in mine. Come together to make one world.”

“Yes.” 

Dinner was lovely. I sat in the Piazza degli Uffizi for a while. A violinist was there. It was lovely. And now I’m sitting on the rooftop of my hotel writing this with a glass of wine and a view of il Duomo. A group of older folks, old friends, sitting behind me. They get up to leave—“you finish your homework now.”

“I will. Have a good night.”

My brain has quieted significantly. I feel present. Not thinking much about what’s ahead. Not dwelling on what’s behind. It took a little bit of time. “An adjustment period.” Exactly that. Some kind of separation. It is very interesting to me how quickly we adapt. I’ve only been away twelve days, but Memphis feels like a lifetime ago. The Kroger on Union, a distant memory. Makes me laugh to myself. Watching the grizzlies highlights with the entire Forum singing “Whoop That Trick.” I do miss it. And everyone. But I hope I can find some space in this moment. Some mental space. To sort through. To rest. To heal. To reset. 

One of my favorite parts of my day is texting everyone. Some days it’s different folks. Always Emily. She has a text that comes through at exactly 8:30 every morning—“I set it up so you got a good morning text every morning.” I text her around 2:00 pm my time to tell her good morning. 

It means a lot that you’re all with me. I couldn’t do it without knowing that