Friday, October 21, 2011

To Italia!

Buongiorno Principessa! We caught a quick 45 minute train to Italy, Friday afternoon.

Just like the views on the LIRR!...

I thought we were going for dinner, but my aunt just wanted to show me one of their food markets. So we did some of her kind of shopping

Well, first got gelato (gelato was way better in Italy, but France had me on their cones)

and then did some of my kind of shopping

We were thinking "ooooh what kind of fruit is Sicilia?! It's everywhere in this market!" It's everywhere because that is the area of origin, as in Sicily, you turkeys.

I bought some wicked cheap persimmons to have for breakfast the next morning. As well as a ton of olive oil (that later gets ceased at airport security :(, biscotti to bring back for my dad and some gnocchi that I had for dinner last night)

Then walked back to France admiring Italy's fancy trees

i luhs trees.

Stopped to get a pint on the beach. We talked about our books and projects and family eating the complimentary bruschetta and crisps. We're smiling hard because the guy taking our picture kept shouting "and pose! and pose! AND POSE!" This IS how we pose, dude!

And check it, not wearing a tshirt.

The beer must be stronger here because one of these and I am merry and rosy cheeked.

We walked around to find a place for dinner, settling on someplace random bc we wanted to be in time for the train. I was psyched about gnocchi all day thinking we were eating in Italy, and ordered it anyway even though we were in France. It was terrible. I'm not even posting a picture of it. The dessert was worse. Nothing chocolate and then that jello on top of the cake. What? What, people? Think about some of us adults who have a seven year olds palate sometimes when creating your menu, will you?? Altho seven year olds would probably like jello on their cake so I don't know where I'm going with that, but still, no bueno. (I kept catching myself speaking in Spanish while in France. Apparently the thought of any foreign language makes me think in Spanish. I would catch myself saying gracias or si and then the person talking to me would get excited "ohhh espanol?!" and I would have to let them down, "oh! no, mean oui. Pardon...((sigh))lo siento"

It was another long day and time to pass out when we finally returned home with all our loot. At this point in the trip I was missing Ireland a lot and wanted to get home more than anything else. France just did not pull me. It didn't keep my attention for too long, which I'm sure was because I could only speak to people who spoke English and that's no way to get to know a culture. Tre ignorant. Altho I did not feel this way in Germany at all. So you know what, France? It's not me. It's you.

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