Stories from the trip of a lifetime…
I wore the wrong shoes. Every woman knows this has the potential to ruin an evening, especially when this one included cobblestones. But I was in Italy, so I should have seen that one coming. Again, I was in Italy, so I refused to let it ruin the evening.
There is no climax of this evening; of this story. The highlight of this story is that I was in Italy. There are no emotions building or plot lines unfolding.
We were just strolling through Florence like people do. Me, eyeing each stone like it had the ability to change under my feet. Him, offering a hand and an ear to my regrets and a compliment to ease the pain.
We found a table in front of the Duomo and I took pictures of him. We put our phones away and smiled at each other. We got a bottle of Chianti, the only wine he’s ever liked. I assume it was because we were in Italy.
We ordered pizza, because we were in Italy.
When we finished, we continued our stroll. We wandered to a bench, where a man was setting up to entertain for the night. Bob Marley was his money maker. As we listened to him sing of peace & love, a few more people gathered. I scooted onto his lap, draping my arm around his neck. We sat there long enough to feel obligated to donate to his cause.
I got the warm fuzzies knowing that Bob Marley is universal. It seriously brings the people together.
I was red wine drunk, my dogs only whimpering. He offered a piggy back ride and I accepted. I bounced along for an acceptable amount of time before guilt crept in and I requested that he pull over and drop me off.
I took off, yelling “It’s easier to run in heels!,” which many of you ladies know to be true. I ran until I was overcome by the giggles, realizing how slow I was actually moving. The walk back to the hostel was more like a relay race. He walked at a leisurely pace, surely amused by my antics. I raced ahead and took periodic breaks.
Go ahead, put on your best for Italy. She’ll strip you down and make you feel like a child running through sprinklers on a hot summer day. All kinds of cliche.
You’ll drink wine like water and carb load like you’re preparing for the match of your life.
You’ll put on your heels and not give a damn that you’re teeter-tottering all over the place because you’re in Italy!