So, I was in Bologna. I saw many cool and interesting things while I was there. I went to the University of Bologna and saw the Operating/Anatomy Table that Galvanize did his anatomy work on. Autopsies were performed on this table to see how someone died, to study the workings and structures of the human body. He also took electricity posts and put them on a dead frog, electrocuted it, and it started hopping around on the table. It’s nerves came back to life. People would come and watch dead people being opened up, thus it being called a theatre. Mary Shelley, the author of Frankenstein got her idea from watching him perform with electricity and the frog coming back to life and jumping on the table. The University of Bologna is also the oldest school in the entire world. It has been around since 1088. It is a very prestigious and high ranked university. Bologna is actually nicknamed “La Dotta” meaning the educated, because of the University. I also went to this really good gelato place called Creamaria Cavour. It has some good gelato. I got grapefruit and blueberry. While I didn’t like the grapefruit because I thought it was too sour and bitter, I absolutely loved the blueberry. I am not surprised at all at the quality of food in Bologna. After all, it’s nicknamed “La Grossa” meaning the fat because of it’s amazing food products and just food in general. I saw the last remaining two towers in Bologna as well. Back in the ancient times, they had towers everywhere. The towers marked the elite and wealthy. The higher the tower, the wealthier you were. Everyone was competing to be the one with the highest tower. While I would have loved to climb one, nobody in my group wanted to, so I didn’t. If I’m in Bologna again, I’m definitely climbing one. Bologna was a cool place to visit. Just I wish, I had explored just a tad more, but it’s okay. I liked what I got to see.  

Our short, sweet trip to Poppi had some of the most meaningful moments for me on this journey.  The mountain air was crisp and a fine mist hung heavy even when it wasn’t raining.  No tourists walked the quiet streets.  We all felt compelled to whisper.  Views of the unforgettable mountain landscape rolled on forever, be-speckled in a red and yellow late spring bloom, tiny homes tucked away in places few will wander.   You’d notice some of those houses for sale on our happy, muddy walk to Castle Romana.  We swallowed the lumps in our throats with our dreams, for now, and laughed at each other, wondering who would slip first.  (It was probably going to be me but it was Emily.)  We were all glad for the walk after even a short bus ride, and proud of how strong this trip has made us.  I’ll never forget that walk through the beautiful countryside I wanted to camp in on my free day, had I not gone to Venice.  It reminded me of growing up on my grandparents’ mountain lake.   We were a good group in Poppi.  We missed Firenze but we had come together as a family by this time.   The Italian language and culture lessons with Giana, Alina, and Carlo, where we learned to describe ourselves and each other, were comfortable and fun.  Duolingo can never teach what an afternoon talking and laughing can.  Everything was first said in Italian, and then translated into English bit by bit.  I love being able to understand parts of lectures and conversations, and the longer we are here the more we understand without a second guess.  The Italian language spoken is my new favorite sound; I want to hear it all day and in my dreams.   I will teach English as a foreign language here someday, when all the stars align. Watching them teach was an inspiration—as was watching others learn and grow.  I was told I could come back to Poppi to take classes at the language school.  This possibility now feels real, and if I could infuse Poppi into a fragrance—I’d call it Hope.   Madison, Bonnette, and I found Oratorio Della Madonna Contro Il Morbo (Our Lady Against the Plague) wandering, looking for a church to sing in.  That evening was the 4th year anniversary of Bonnette’s father’s passing.  The following morning marked one month since my grandfather left the material world and became a part of me.  Though spiritual, I am not the kind of person who typically lights candles in churches or prays for peace.  Standing in that particular church watching that candle flicker put God and Grandpa in the same place again.  The caretaker was closing the church, but he kindly took the time to ask what language we spoke and explain its sacred history.   Some interesting facts about Oratorio Della Madonna Contro Il Morbo include: It was built as an homage to the Virgin for protection from the plague....

Firenze, what can I say?  Heartbroken and homesick for you, my tears flow like your sweetest wines and words of inspiration on Dante’s rock.  The things your streets have taught me are things I will never forget or be able to explain to many people.  I never had so many powerful life lessons in one place.   Our first night strolling out as a group, I refused to rub the boar’s nose.  I can be intractably stubborn when I’m just that convinced of something: you make your own luck.  As far as making my own luck— in Firenze, I nailed it.  I lost makeup, clothes, my iPad, all my purchases from the Uffizi, my digital video camera, and my debit card.  ALL the pictures I took are gone.  I was late.  I was lost (really rather often).  I ended up not getting to do many of the things I wanted to do like climb the Duomo and tour the Boboli Gardens.   How can anyone have such bad luck??  The answer is simple.  You don’t refuse to do things in Italy.  You take every opportunity to learn or experience local culture.  I should have paid homage to the boar on night one!  I cast my own maluche.   Bad luck was only bad luck.  It didn’t get the best of me.  One of the first things I was told after falling down the rabbit hole was: sometimes you have to get lost in order to find yourself.  I felt like maybe I could overcome my past and the decades I spent truly lost.  Internalized, those words prepared me for the challenge; I would be a world traveler and navigate the cities alone. This set me up for another powerful lesson: sometimes you have to lose everything you don’t need to appreciate what you do.   I was in the company of amazing people and given the opportunity to truly connect and rely upon them.  The friends I made here (friends I didn’t even want to make, truth be told) were worth more than a million iPads and I wouldn’t have talked to a single one of them, had I spent every night chatting on Discord with my best friend.   The saddest thing I saw happen in Firenze was on our passagiato after dinner out.  A string quartet was playing and everyone stopped to listen.  A nearby vendor selling bracelets was drunk and shouting obscenities at the musicians and the crowd.  Most people ignored it.  It wouldn’t be the first or the last time someone got drunk and made a scene here.  Some believed he was upset because the quartet was absorbing any money he might have made that night.  Some thought they heard him crying out that so much bad mojo might jinx the boar.   In Firenze, you are not just tolerated.  Whatever you are is celebrated or taken with a level of acceptance we don’t have in the States.  No one shamed this man for his behavior....