I slept past breakfast today. I also slept when I came back from class. I want to sleep right now.

It turns out that seasickness patches make you pretty sleepy. Combine that with the rock-a-bye baby effect of the ship rocking and it’s lights out–even for someone who usually has trouble sleeping like me.

Today was a “B” day (we do A and B days rather than certain days of the week because we also go to classes on the weekend to make up for time in port). That means I didn’t have class until one. Which was fortunate, because it almost took me until then to get the computer to work well enough to check out my course options to prepare me for drop/add tonight.

I went to my first “Writing Back to the Empire” literature class. I’ve never taken a college-level English class, so I’m a bit nervous to see how it pans out. In my head, “writing back” in the title meant corresponding back to the British Empire. The professor means it more like “talking back” by the people affected by empire.

At 5 I got to participate in drop/add. In this environment, that was harder than it sounds. Picture 40 people crammed into a computer lab waiting for their turn to use the bandwidth and trying to keep their balance as the ship rocks back and forth. I watched a spot in the class I wanted become open and then instantly fill while my computer loaded. So frustrating!

I kept checking back throughout the evening and someone else finally dropped. Thus, I am now enrolled in Beginning Drawing. And the teacher better have meant it when she said “beginning,” because I am totally new to this. Then I had to find someone with supplies. We have a sort of Craig’s list on the bulletin board. A girl saw that I wanted a kit and offered me hers. Another girl saw that I was trying to sell the books from the class I dropped. From there it was a simple matter of meeting up to exchange materials. No cell phones here, kids. Spotty Internet. Over 400 students. A maddening plethora of places to sit. I ended up selling the books for the same price I purchased the kit. Perfect!

Later, I met with the other 8 Presidential Scholars to present our project outlines. Some of them are doing really awesome projects. They range in topics from micro-finance to education for the homeless.

One thing I can say about this ship: It definitely has a service minded conscience.

That evening I sat on the deck for a long time typing on my upcoming presentation and watching the bright orange and pink sunset. There is nothing like a sunset at sea. Not a beach sunset. There, the pretty sand distracts you. Here, in the middle of the Atlantic, there is just the sky– big and unadulterated–and the water, the perfect reflective surface but still beautiful in its own right. The professors’ kids didn’t seem to notice. They were screaming and playing ping pong. It wasn’t long before I was trying to help them find a ping pong ball that went into the pool.

We left the curtains open last night because we had heard that you become more accustomed to time changes if you wake up to natural light.

It didn’t work.

I jolted awake at 8:00 a.m., looked out of the window and almost fell out of bed. Blue water was speeding by and the Canadian mountains dotted the horizon.

Once I reminded myself that I was on a circumnavigating boat, I also remembered that breakfast ended at 8:30. I ate while chatting with the girls from France and Spain and a UVA student from Mexico. We went to the Student Union and had mandatory meetings for the next three hours. I was horribly fidgety, but we learned about Global Studies (the ship-wide class that prepares us for each port), IT (the IT guy began his lecture by asking us not to throw chairs at him since only fifty people out of 800 can use the Internet at one time), and the University of Virginia’s Honor Code (if you blow one of their ten-point offenses, you are off the boat with no way to get home– not kidding–I get 3 points if I’m ever late to port, even if I’m in line to get back on the ship at curfew).

We broke for lunch just long enough to remember that we have legs, then met back to hear from more speakers. The Academic Dean explained in his British accent the concept of a living learning community envisioned by Thomas Jefferson. Jefferson’s plan for UVA (which is now a UNESCO World Heritage Site) included faculty and students living in close proximity, like we do on the ship. We are encouraged to eat, hang out, and chat with our professors.

We had a safety talk from our captain that was downright terrifying. He began with an old quote from a sea captain talking about how uneventful his career had been– then revealed that the quote came from the man who would later captain the Titanic. He also explained that doors frequently slam shut, smashing fingers in the process, and that fire is the single biggest fire hazard (hence the reason I bought my adorable hot pink “auto shut-off” curling iron).

In case you are curious: If I fall off the boat, it will take at least 15 minutes to come back to get me, and the ship would be at least a mile away by that time. Oh yeah, I get kicked off at the next port, too, if I fall off for a stupid reason. The health staff spoke and explained that we get free seasickness medications that we administer ourselves, we take our malaria medication ourselves, and the clinic is open two hours every day (i.e., I better take care of myself).

Once we were finally free, Laura and I met up with some others to read on the deck. It was so gorgeous sitting out there that we ended up talking for forever. We shared blankets since it’s pretty cold. We are entering the Northern Atlantic soon.

We ate dinner (carrot ginger soup that tasted good after the cold), then went to the Student Involvement Fair. Somewhere between signing up for intramural volleyball, student service, LeaderSHIP (A program where I go to evening lectures and get an academic passport stamped at the end of the voyage), Student Ambassadors (the kids who welcome guests and diplomats to the ship), Bible Study, Church Service, Kids Rule (I get to socialize with, babysit, or tutor the professors’ kids. Gosh, I miss kids), and Extended Family (I get partnered with an adult learner and some other students and we have dinner together), the ship started to rock.

Laura and I went for a walk with a premed who is enthusiastic about breaking from his routine of “planning every detail of my life” and being “completely spontaneous.” We were the only people on deck. I saw my favorite constellation, Cassiopeia. It’s a W shape, but I always pretend it’s an M for “Martha.” I liked the story of Cassiopeia and Andromeda growing up, so it reminded me of my daddy, who used to tell it.

By the time we were walking back to our cabin, I was feeling the rolling in a big way. I started feeling pretty rough.

I had a guy who lives two doors down help me fix my watch so I can get up on time tomorrow, took a Dramamine, and passed out.

I’m writing from the St. Lawrence Seaway!

The day of so much anticipation finally arrived. This morning I sent my last few emails and farewell texts. Mom and I sat in the same chair for some time. I can think of few times I’ve been so upset…I mean it will be over 100 days without hearing the voice of a single family member or friend. She has been so supportive of my wild dreams during this whole process.

It was a beautiful day. We got my two huge bags and backpacks down to the pier checkpoint. We parted quickly so there would be few tears. Laura and I met up since we had to board by last name and ours start with the same letter. We passed through security successfully with me proving that my curling iron was auto shut-off and turning in my passport and yellow fever card.

We next had to go through 8 orientation stations before making it to our room–which is so great! I have the bed on the right side of the room under a big world map. There is a hideous picture on Laura’s wall. When I took it off the wall we discovered lots of messages written on the back with advice from previous voyagers. Most of it was pretty bad advice, but it turns out that messages on the back of the ship’s framed pictures is a tradition.

The ship halls are divided into “seas” (I know. So grade school) and I am in the Bering Sea. Other Presidential Scholars like Laura and me are up and down our hall. Our names and hometowns are posted by our doors. While I was waiting for my bags, I went to order some FDPs (Semester at Sea sponsored trips) since the deadline was 1 p.m.

After the office, I settled into my room by posting some photos and quotes on the wall, laying out my fuzzy blanket, and hanging a UK pennant on the wall. I also put a UK message board on the door. Then we explored the ship.

We had a mandatory lifeboat drill at 4. Laura and I donned our life-vests and hit the hall to find our hallmates—-who all seemed to be guys. Another room of girls from France and Spain showed up, and we did the drill, which involved us standing in silence for 30 minutes with a man patrolling while holding a sign that told us to “pipe down.” Let’s hope a real-life evacuation doesn’t take quite that long. I kept thinking about the Titanic.

It took us a while to leave port because someone hadn’t completed check-in. They kept announcing that “someone” hadn’t, then finally called him out by name. If I ever hear my name on the PA system, I just might die. Leaving port was super exciting. We all gathered at the back of the boat to wave at the people assembled on the pier. I was SO GLAD that my mom hadn’t stayed (as per my request). The girl next to me was sobbing as she watched her mom sobbing and getting smaller and smaller. We were only heading into the St. Lawrence Seaway, but it still felt rather epic. This ship CAN MOVE. We clipped along.

The big activity of the day was the ship-wide meeting. The deans welcomed us encouraging us to get along, be flexible and practice “Ubuntu” a humanist philosophy popularized by Desmond Tutu, whom I will be meeting later on this voyage. The basic principle is “I am because you are.” Still processing what that actually is supposed to mean. We were introduced to the faculty and staff, then the captain spoke and explained that his powers extend “far beyond anything outlined in your student handbook” if we decided to break any rules. I sat next to a girl staying in a deck 5 cabin for free as the nanny to one of the faculty members’ kids. Future job? Maybe.

Our “sea” had a meeting where we introduced ourselves. I really liked them. We have kids from Boulder, San Diego, William and Mary, China, Serbia, Spain, France and a bucket-load of other places. After the meeting, we walked around outside, I journaled in the piano bar, then we went to bed. I tried to get internet from my room, but only 50 people can be on at a time, and the ship community consists of over 800 people.

I can see the stars out of my window when I lie down.

Some voyage stats:

62 percent female, 38 percent male

451 students (this is a small voyage, and there are quite a few empty cabins)

Top colleges in Attendance: University of San Diego and Colorado Boulder

Students from Kentucky: 5

Students from UK: 2

Faculty from Kentucky: 2 (from what I can tell, they are both from Louisville)

Today I embarked on the biggest adventure of my life so far. it has been a ridiculous ten days since my return from Europe. There were lots of things to buy, plenty of people to see, too many academic hoops to jump through and a fair number of complete-panic-what-am-I-doing-I’m-an-idiot -to-try-this moments.

I’ve never lived on campus or been away from home for more than 24 days, so there was a lot to do beyond preparing mentally for seeing–and circumnavigating–the globe. Saying goodbye to my loved ones was an incredibly difficult experience. Only my Mommy accompanied me to Montreal. My sisters and I spent a lot of fun times in the last 10 days (sea-blue pedicures and wedding planning, anyone?), so waking them up this morning  to kiss them goodbye at 5 a.m. was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done.

I’m a conflicted person today: I ache to go and see, but I adore my home. I’ve learned that life is equal parts adventure where ever you are–riding with the windows down in the back roads of Kentucky or on a camel in the deserts of Morocco.  Still, the words of  Andre Gide filled my mind as I said farewell to Kentucky:
“One doesn’t discover new lands without consenting to lose sight of the shore for a very long time.”

In my case, “A very long time” is 111 days. I suppose that isn’t too bad.

I finished packing in two bags, hopefully below the 50 pound  airline limit. Our flight was at 7:30, so I was holding my breath at 6:30 when my bags hit the scale. one was 49.5 pounds, and the other was 46. Whew.

Our flight to Atlanta was as easy as pie and the one to Montreal was surprisingly quick (and on a surprisingly small plane). Customs in Canada was a nightmare because 1. I had too much water on the plane and had to go horribly and the Montreal customs is forever away from the gate. 2. The border agent was confused by the fact that I was in Canada for academic reasons but not studying in Canada and that my Mommy was with me.

We took a taxi to our posh pier-side hotel. It is the St.Sulpice. I’m not used to staying in such a nice place (especially after Rome!!), but Mommy is having trouble walking thanks to severe rheumatoid arthritis and I have 100 pounds of luggage to get to the ship tomorrow morning.

I saw the MV Explorer for the first time from the taxi and all of a sudden my heart was in my throat with  nervousness. I think a large part of me expected it all to be a cruel hoax, and to show up and see no ship, no scholarship, and no trip around the world.

Mommy and I found a cafe on the Rue St. Paul where we could have crepes and quiche. We watched the people on the street walking through the Montreal gray drizzle.

We went back to the hotel and took turns taking baths and sitting in our big bathrobes. The bathtub filled up in like 1 minute and was so hot I almost burned myself.

Mom got to go on the ship to take a tour, but I am not allowed to board until the morning. While she was looking at my future home, I walked along the pier trying to calm down. Several curious people asked me if I would be on the “awesome” student ship.

Most exciting, however, was the fact that I got to meet my roommate, from the University of Georgia, Laura!! We hugged as soon as I saw her getting out of the taxi. I’m so glad that I was able to find/request my roommate before getting to Montreal. We’ve been talking all summer, and I’m confident we will really enjoy living together. A wave of relief swept over me once we met. I won’t be seeing the world alone, after all!

After Mom disembarked, she told me all about the ship and met Laura. Then she and I walked down to a restaurant of my choosing for dessert. I wanted to eat at the Jardin Nelson, an outdoor cafe decked out in flowers, hosting live music, overlooking the square and named after Horatio Nelson (nerd remark inserted).

We walked around Old Montreal at night, which is one of the prettiest cities I have ever seen in the dark because of al the differect colored lights. The Notre Dame is right next to our hotel, so we looked at the pretty windows at night.

I will never forget this day with my mom.

We woke up on our last day with a ton to do. We were the first ones to breakfast when it opened at 7:30am.

From there we used our Roma pass to catch the train to Ostia. Ostia was a post city near Rome. It’s considered to have some of the best ruins in the world. The whole trip took about an hour. We were tickled pink when the guy at the ticket office let us in for free when he saw our Roma Passes—something he was definitely not supposed to do.

Oh my word. Ostia is big. It was really neat seeing all of the different portions of the city. My favorite part was one of the eateries. You could see where the bar had been and could still see original drawings of food on the wall.

The bad news is that I lost Claire. That sounds really stupid, but it’s more like “ I lost Claire in Wilmore” because Ostia is an entire city—not just one or two buildings. The good news is that during my wanderings, I found blackberries, pears, and grapes growing in the ruin. It took 3 text messages, but Claire and I met back up after about 3 hours in the abandoned ancient city.

After Ostia, I really wanted to see the Appian Way/ Catacombs area. We got off at the Pyramid stop and waited for the #118 bus. It took forever. We got on though and rode down the Appian Way to the Catacombs of Callistus. What a lovely area! Green trees, olives, and blue skies.

Unfortunately, the Catacombs were closed when we got there. The were supposed to re-open in 30 minutes, so we walked around, bought our ticket, and waited for an English tour. Were they worth what ended up being a lot of hassle? Maybe not. But I LOVED my visit. A guide took us down into the ancient tombs where several popes and saints and several thousand Christians were buried. St. Cecilia has a monument to her in the position in which she died three days after a botched decapitation.

One man is buried in the room in which he was praying when Roman soldiers came in and killed him. It was just so neat walking around a tomb that old. We are used to seeing old ruins—not old dirt tombs with frescos of people in togas.

They are not in great shape thanks to the Visagoth raiders, but it was still a wonderful experience. After our visit, the bus took FOREVER to pick us up, be we were waiting for it on the cobbled Appian Way, which was too awesome for words.

We then had a very long subway ride to the Vatican City.

What a place to end our trip! You simply must go.

And I know exactly when you should go too. At 5:00pm the Basilica is stunning. The lighting shines through the windows creating one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen.

The Vatican is a pretty good place to end a European adventure. That’s what I did!

I went to the vatican gift shop and bought a necklace with a pendant of St. Rita. Why? Because she is the patron saint of special requests and impossible dreams. This journey was a special request brought to fruition. I’ve dreamed of a European tour since I was a child. Now I have done it, and you know what?

It was even better than my most impossible dream.

The Roman Emperor Tiberius built a villa by the sea in a little town near Naples that is today known as Sperlonga. If a resort is good enough for him, it’s good enough for us, so today we hit the beach.

We knew very little going in. I had never heard of Sperlonga a week ago; I’ve never heard of anyone going there… perfect!

We hopped on a train headed to Naples after hearing a rumor that it would stop at the Fondi Station and we could catch a bust from there to the Mediterranean. Sounds like an adventure, right?

Well our train was supposed to depart at 8:49am, but it was inexplicably delayed until 10:30 a.m. When I say “inexplicably” I mean that we sat in the train for over an hour and wondered why the train wasn’t moving.

It finally did start moving and we were (hopefully) on our way to the beach. We were supposed to hit the Fondi station a little over an hour later, but it didn’t come.

We breathed a collective sigh of relief when the train finally pulled up to tiny Fondi behind schedule. When we got off the train; there was no bus. We waited for about 15 minutes and sure enough, here it came. We got off when we saw the Mediterranean. There’s no missing it. It’s one of the bluest things you’ll ever see.

The beach was crowded, but not packed.The Italians pay for their pieces of golden real estate, so we found a snack bar to ask about renting an umbrella. My awkward gestures learned that we could rent one for the day for 20 Euros. The men at the snack counter waved me to his young son, who evidently spoke better English. Our rate was decreased since by now it was 1:00pm from 30 Euros. Our rental came with two lawn chairs, an umbrella with a table and an extra chair, all about 20 feet from the water. Paradise.

We pulled out our massive loaf of bread and jar of Nutella that we had purchased at the supermarket before heading to the train station this morning. We took turns staying with the stuff  and swimming as there were random vendors wandering through the umbrellas selling swim suits, purses, and jewelry. I probably would have bought a swim suit had I seen one. I liked. Why?

Because I had was the only girl under the age of 50 in a one-piece suit in all of Sperlanga. Claire may have seen one other, but I think she was trying to make me feel better. I left my very cute tankinis at home because they took up more space then my sleek training suit. I just couldn’t make myself buy a bikini, though. I really think I would feel naked. And maybe I would be naked after wearing one of the ones I saw for sale– they looked pretty flimsy.

When it was my turn to leave base camp, I walked into the Mediterranean ready to cross “swim in the Mediterranean” off my life list. That was my 3^rd in seeing the Mediterranean, but my first time in it. I thought about how I saw it in December from the coasts of Egypt, Sicily, and Malta, and how I would see it again in less that a month from the coasts of Morocco on the deck of my ship home. Insanity.

“Here’s to a lot and to a lot more” I said to myself  before diving into the blue depths of the sea of the Iliad, Odyssey, Bible and so much more.

We alternated the afternoon between swimming and laying out. Paris  and Germany took a toll on my summer tan. Still, I get antsy after too long in one place– even in paradise. I saw an odd building up on a hill in the distance and decided to walk to it. The town of Sperlonga almost felt Greek. My walk up to the building gave me stunning views of the clear blue water and Italians frolicking way too close to the jagged rocks.

I was hoping to find information about visiting Tiberus’ villa and grotto (he had guests eat around the water in a grotto where they could hear the ocean and see the candles reflecting off the water), but the tourist info office was closed, so I headed back for a walk along the beach.

We didn’t see anyone other than Italians all day. Many Italians take the month of August to head to the beach. It was fun to see all of the families relaxing together. It made me remember how much I miss all the kids I coach on swim team. At the end of the day, I asked the shop keeper’s son where to catch the bus. He gave me his best broken English reply, and we got back onto the train.

Back in Rome, we went to the hotel with “technical difficulties” to try to find a letter my parents had sent. The receptionist spoke no English and was confused. We had to walk pretty far because the subway line A closes at 9.

We congratulated ourselves on a day well spent.

They say that all roads lead to Rome. Well today mine did. But first I went a lot of other places.

This morning, we went to the Duomo early so we could be in line before it opened. We walked inside and looked up at Brunelleschi’s famous dome.

We headed back to the Pitti Palace after that and flashed our “Friends of the Uffizi” Pass one more time. I had wanted to go back to see the Modern Art Museum. I know that you’re thinking: “More art, Martha? And MODERN art? Seriously?”

Before you judge me, I’ve spent a lot of time looking at art that is not from my time period of choice. And modern art is apparently from the 1800s in Florence. Think Romanticism and a tad of impressionism. The exhibit also highlights works created during the unification of Italy. Ok, so I’m a nerd. I know

We finished exploring the Boboli Gardens, which are quite extensive. Then we went back to our hotel where we had left our bags. I ran to a nearby shop to buy bus tickets, then we caught the bus to the train station without a hitch. Of course the train was delayed. Oh, Italy. You just don’t run very smoothly.

We were in Rome in less that two hours later, though. Who can complain about that?

We walked about 15 minutes down Via Cavour to our hotel. We squeezed into the tiny cage of an elevator—complete with a metal door that you manually pull over. When we reached reception on the 3^rd floor, the woman told us there was a “technical problem” with our room and we would have to be moved to a hotel near the Spanish Steps.

We were disappointed that the new hotel would be a longer walk from the things we wanted to see, but “technical difficulties” could mean “you will be electrocuted, drown, or asphyxiate” in  a hotel like that, so we cooperated.

Reception called a taxi for us (which robbed me of the fun of flagging one down on my own… something I’d like to try sometime) and promised the other hotel would pay for it when we arrived.

We felt rather posh using virtually the only man-made form of transportation we hadn’t used yet (except for a Vespa… but I picked up a brochure on renting one as soon as we got to Rome).

Then we got to our new hotel. Hole-in-the-wall seems an apt description, as you actually had to walk down a covered alley to get to it. It was dirty and no one was waiting to pay the taxi for us. I ran back into the alley to find the reception guy. He made me wait while he worked with someone else, then gave me a 20 to pay the cabby.

I brought him back the change, but he absolutely freaked out when he saw that I didn’t have a receipt. Then he started running after the taxi which had obviously gone.

After his sprint, he seemed to forget what had previously been so distressing. He shook our hands and introduced himself. He said I looked like Jennifer Aniston and proceeded to give us a plethora of information that was really pretty worthless because of his accent. He gave us our room 407 key, and we managed to wedge ourselves into an elevator even smaller than the one at the hotel with “technical difficulties.” I held my breath and hoped my heavy bag wouldn’t cause another technical difficulty.

We opened the door to find a room covered in scuff marks and oddly occupied by another person’s bags.

Confused, Claire ran down to reception to learn that  the receptionist, evidently distracted by my celebrity resemblance, had given us a key to the wrong room. Feeling less-then-secure at the possibility of the receptionist giving our room key to someone else, we settled into our humble accommodations.

We went out to get some of our required sites crossed off the list. It was super hot. We walked by a hair salon and nearly went in. I was inspired by one of my favorite movies, “Roman Holiday,” and thought about getting a short cut for the heat.

We walked to the Pantheon, but there was a mass being held inside. Did you know the Pantheon is a church? The former temple to all gods is now a church for just One.

We walked through some other churches while we were waiting for the Pantheon to clear out. I was really impressed by the Church of the Gesu.

There was a mass inside there, too, but we could walk around the back portion. The special thing about this church is that the ceiling paintings look like they are spilling out of the painting because of sculptures around the edges.

After this church, we walked back to the Pantheon. The ceiling around the oculus is just so incredible. The carving is unreal. This building inspired Raphael , and he is buried here.

There is also a statue of a lamb that I remember photographing on a whim with my sisters last time I visited. We laughed for a long time about how funny and creepy it looked. Seeing it again made me feel more homesick than anything on the trip yet.

After the Pantheon, we needed a pick-me-up. We were somewhat more drained today than a lot of other days. We found a restaurant where we could sit for a long time. I was contentedly munching on my carbonara pasta when Claire’s eyes turned as big as the mozzarella sliced on the salad across from me. She jumped up and ran down the street. Naturally, I was surprised.

It turns out she saw some good friends from high school walking down our very same street on their one night in Rome. What is the likelihood of that happening? I have no idea, but it made two girls a long way from home feel a little less alone in the Eternal City. It also entertained the wait staff considerably.

After dinner we walked to my favorite spot in Rome: the Trevi fountain. There’s just something about the Trevi at night. I tossed a coin over my shoulder, which means that I get to come back to Rome. Don’t laugh. I did it last time and look who came back!

We finished out the night by walking by the Spanish Steps. They are considered romantic, possibly because Keats died in the house next to them. Claire and I sat and discussed the movie “Bright Star,” for a few minutes before heading back to our hotel.

It was nice not sharing the shower with the toilet.

I’m going to sleep so well tonight.

At the Doge Palace

I feel so much more comfortable when I’m in Italy.

It reminds me of my family in an interesting way. When I hear the Italians speak, it’s not totally foreign, because I’ve heard my grandparents speaking it. When I make a reservation, my last name blends right in. My grandfather is from northern Italy, so I don’t stand out horribly, though my clothes and the fact that I didn’t inherit many Italian traits other than my shortness (thanks a lot!) don’t make me look especially Italian. Many people picture Italians as having dark hair and complexions, but lots of northern Italian have light hair and light eyes.

Today we started at the Accademia. There I saw some Bellini pieces I really enjoyed. He has some very pretty Madonnas–and I’m becoming a Madonna connoisseur.  Next we tackled the crowded St. Mark’s square. We were determined not to wait in line though, so we were clever.

First, we bought out ticket for the Palazzo Ducale at the Correr Museum– a place few seem to go. Next we went to St. Mark’s Basilica where we went directly to the baggage check to get a tag. Most people wait in the hour-plus line, get to the door, and are then told to walk to the baggage check dorm down the street. Claire packed a backpack on purpose so she could check it and we could both skip the line with her tag. The hitch was that I was flagged down and forced to buy a 1 Euro wrap for my waist since my dress hit above my knees. I think the guy was just giving me a hard time though, because I saw dresses of the same length all over the church.

We paid 2 Euros to see the required Palo d’Oro. It’s a golden altarpiece studded with precious gems and images of the various Bible book authors. We took our time trying to identify each one.

I wasn’t a huge fan of this church, however, because it is extremely crowded and heavily decorated in the Byzantine style. I prefer a plain, quiet chapel.

We walked across the square to begin our super long trek up to the random church in  the north we were required to see. We went to the Ducale Palace where our prepaid ticked let us skip another 1.5 hour line. The palace is where the doge, or ruler/king of of sorts, of Venice lived when Venice was a kingdom. The symbol of Venice is the winged lion of St. Mark– very dramatic. The palace is full of art and not a ton else, because Doges changed like presidents and took their stuff with them. Actually, they changed more like Supreme Court justices because they stayed in office for life. It took us a while to find the required painting, but it was fun walking though Venice’s old halls of power. We also walked over the famous Bridge of Sighs and through the dismal dungeons.

After the Doges’ Palace, we went back tot he Correr Museum/Archaeological Museum for good measure, but were in an art coma (way too much Tintoretto) so we decided to go to another required church.

Church hopping as we went, we made it to the uppermost edge of Venice. That’s when we realized that the required church, the Church of the Gesuiti was closed and would reopen in an hour.Fortunately, we were famished and opted to go into the “Tortuga” restaurant. I think it’s called that because the table overlooked the ferries and ports on the north side of Venice. It’s admittedly strange eating at a restaurant called Tortuga in Italy.  There was a pretty cemetery across the water. The menu was in Italian. I kind of like it when you aren’t sure what you are getting. Mine ended up being a panini with intense cheese. We’re talking blue stuff, chunks of brie, and who knows what else. I ate it with gratitude.

We took our time walking back after seeing the church and window shopping. I had heard that San Marco Square is special at night, so we went back out towards dusk. I got some strawberry gelato from a vendor next to our hotel.

We watched gondoliers give couples rides at night. A short gondola ride can cost well over 100 dollars. Gondolas really are a romantic way to travel though. Speaking of romantic, there were men selling roses and I almost bought myself one.

By the time we walked to the Bridge of Sighs and stood there sighing, it was almost dusk. At night in St. Mark’s square, the cafes there “battle” music.

They have 5-piece sets and play good music– a lot of classical and some fun stuff like “My Fair Lady.” We sat looking at the square where people were buying cheap light up toys from illegal vendors, posing for pictures with the pigeons (San Marco has a ton and people think it’s fun to let the birds perch all over them. GROSS.), and sporting stylish European clothes. It gradually got dark, then magically the lights all turned on simultaneously. Amazing.

We walked back to our hotel slowly, enjoying Venice at night, then listened to the noisy Italian voices downstairs though our open window.

Some people think Venice is smelly, old, and bizarre. I think it’s wonderful.

This morning at breakfast a hotel staff member asked me if I would like her to make me a cappuccino to have with my cereal, fruit and yogurt on the shaded terrace. Some people ask the silliest questions.

After an auspicious beginning, I took on Florence fortified by classy caffeine and my Friends of the Uffizi card. We began at something I had never seen before: the church of Santa Maria Novella. Here we had a required word of art to view: Masaccio’s “Holy Trinity.” On our scholarship list, we aren’t given any explanation as to why we are required to see the pieces listed.

I stood gazing at it for a while, a little confused as to why it was on the list. The longer I looked, however, the more impressed by it I was. This guy tried to draw God the father–that takes nerve.

I couldn’t find the Giotto listed on the placards (I like Giotto). Then I realized that it was a giant painted crucifix hanging in the middle of the church.

After the church, we went back to the train station( yeah!) to make our final reservation. Next we headed to the Medici Chapels where the men of the famous family were laid to rest. You don’t realize how rich the Medicis were until you see their tombs. They had Michelangelo design them. Need I say more? Probably not, but I will.

One Medici, Leo X, was a pope (also a chum of Michelangelo). It was no big deal to get Michelangelo to design part of the tomb, because he actually grew up living with the Medicis for a while. Michelangelo never finished the sacrestry, and it’s fun seeing the sketched plans and cartoons that were left on the unfinished portion.

Museo San Marco

After the Medicis, we went to the Museo San Marco with no idea what to expect. I failed to get excited about the medieval art downstairs, but really loved the upstairs. The cells of all the monks who used to occupy the building are located there, and each plain white room has a different biblical fresco.

One saint who kept reappearing had what appeared to be a head split down the middle. I asked a docent about it, and he answered by asking me if I spoke French. A bit taken aback, I was pleased to answer, “Yes!” He explained in French that the man was St. Peter Martyr, an Italian Dominican who had an unfortunate run-in with an axe.

One famous monk who lived in the former monastery at the Museo San Marco was Savonarola–the famous monk with a huge nose who always wore a hooded cape and brought about the Bonfire of the Vanities. This was sort of like a giant bra burning, only religious and involving people throwing “vanities” like books and mirrors into the inferno. I was surprised that they had his cape on display. For some reason, I found that super creepy.

Next, we waited in line for Accademia. Our pass got us into the museum in a much shorter time than most, but we still had to wait. The Accademia is made for David. It’s a pretty impressive feat, I admit, but it just sort of makes me feel awkward. I bypassed the frontal view and enjoyed a lovely exhibit of Bartolini sculptures.

The Bargello

After fighting past the crowds of giggling tourists sneaking banned photos of David in his nude glory (did he really face Goliath nude? Because that seems a lot more vulnerable to me. If David faced a giant while nude, I’m a lot more impressed with that story), we left the Accademia. We walked down to hit another required stop, the Bargello.

Here, we were required to see Donatello’s “David.” I know. Florence is obsessed. This David is much smaller, but also butt-naked. That’s kind of why it’s so famous. it was the first male nude sculpted since classical times.

We moved on to the Pitti Palace, the former residence of the Medicis. It was also the house of rulers from Austria and France, however, as Italy is no exception to the uncomfortable rule of intermarriage most of Europe seemed to follow. It is primarily known for its Palatine Art Gallery, since the Medicis were patrons of the arts (sort of like me with my Friends of the Uffizi Pass).

The ceilings in the palace are pretty neat, and one was painted to look just like a tent. We walked through the costume gallery, then hit up the gardens. The Boboli Gardens are expansive and lovely. They are built on an epic hill, like the gardens of so many grand houses, and you must climb to the top to see it all. I suppose they built the gardens this way so that people could enjoy the view, looking up at terraces, fountains, etc. If I had that much money, I would have built my palace ON TOP of the hill, and looked out from the breezy top over Tuscany. But my ancestors were humble stone masons in Chiampo, not wealthy dukes in Florence, so now tourists walk up their epic hill in the blistering heat.

Pretending to be a Medici in the Boboli Gardens

After the palace, we recharged at the hotel for a few minutes before going out for dinner. We ate at the Duomo cafe. Our table was close enough to the famous church that I could have thrown my panini  and hit it. I don’t know why I would have wanted to do that, though. My pesto mozzarella sandwich was wonderful. The waiter kept commenting on how happy I looked. Apparently I smile a lot while traveling. I wonder why?

After walking back across the Ponte Vecchio and window shopping at the lovely jewelry shops, we went to bed.