I-ah Speak-ah Engleeeesh very goood!

Ohh, where to begin?... So I left Haarlem, the Netherlands on Wednesday instead of Tuesday, for Paris, which according to Anastasia, "holds the key to your heart", land of all things that I absolutely cannot pronounce (just in case german and Dutch weren't difficult enough). The woman at the Amsterdam train station informed me that the high-speed, nonstop train to paris from Rotterdam Centraal was completely full. She helped me plan a route that consisted of 4 trains that all were free with my eurail pass, but that took 3 and a half hours longer. But I made it safely to Paris.
I wouldn't say it holds the key to my heart, but it was nice that the metro was so easy to figure out there. It's basically impossible to get lost in paris. I went to Louvre Museum, which is super huge. I left right about the time they were closing it. Then I went down the Champs Elysees, which was totally decked out for Christmas, and to the Arc de Triomphe. Saw the Eiffel Tower and Sacre Cour and Montmarte. I loved Notre Dame. I've been in lots of gorgeous cathedrals while I've been in Europe, but I think that Norte Dame was my fave. The Saint Chappelle was gorgeous too. Somehow I managed to get myself confused for a good 20 minutes or so standing right in front of it. Apparently it's kind of inside the area where France has its Supreme Court or something and I was staring at the map going, "Ok, so Saint Chappelle should be right in front of my face, but this says it's the Justice Building... Hmmm." Eventually I figured it out. Well, at least the metro is idiot-proof.
I also got to spend some time with my cousin Becca while I was in Paris. It was so good to get to sit down and talk to her about life and get a few hints about Paris. She had been really helpful in letting me know what I should see while I was there and how I should get there. I don't know what I would have done without her.
I left paris on a night train headed for Milan. In my couchette compartment was a South African, a Pakistani, 2 Frenchmen, and an old Itaalian woman who kept insisting that she "speak Engleesh very gooood." (Half the time I couldn't communicate with her, but she was so sweet and I'm super glad she was there.) Anyway, these 2 suspicious looking French guys didn't have passports, so the conductor told them that they were going to have to talk to the police when we crossed the border. Sure enough, shortly after 1am, the police came banging on our compartment door, yelling in Italian and English about who didn't have a passport. It turned out to be those 2 guys and they didn't really understand what the policemen were asking them. They searched their bags and one of the other passenger's bags, and then took them out of the compartment. They never came back, so I guess they got thrown off or something. I didn't realize it was such a big deal. Even on international trains, I show them my eurail pass aka ticket and they've never asked me for my passport before, except that night trian.
So I got to Milano Centrale at 5:40 in the morning, got a reservation for a train to Firenze Santa Maria Novella station, paid 50 euro cents (75 dollar cents) to go to the bathroom, sat around on the floor like a hobo for 2 hours, and finally left to go back to Florence. :) I love Florence.
It really is home. I left SMN and followed my familiar path to the bus stop, got on #16, and rode out to Scandicci. My next task was climbing the hill to the villa with my backpack, whcih is difficult, but wasn't so bad. I think I'm gonna miss that hill. Anyway, I was the first person back and no one was there, so I sat outside the villa with good ol' Zeus to keep me company until Kyle got out of church and showed up to let me in. Let me tell you, I got right in the shower, and it was a good thing too. I smelled like trains, cigarette smoke, and nasty French people. Icky.
Optional villa stay was fun. For the most part, for like I whole day I was feeling really crappy, but trying to seem happy and I know it wasn't working. I think it was a relapse of what was bothering me in the Netherlands, which is probably just because I'm so exhausted and have been forgetting to take my allergy meds. Anywho, the first day, we went back to San Gimignano aka San Jimmy-John-o. It is definitley one of my fave places. Just a cool little town. I got to spend some more time in Florence, relax and plan some more free travel, and print off something like 30 pages worth of maps, buss maps, and directions. (Thank-you Harding University!) It was cool, because we pretty much ate out for every meal, unless the ladies were cooking, and I never had to buy a thing.
And so this morning, I got up after everybody except one other person had already left, said "ciao" to Sandro, walked down the Via Triozzi hill, and said good-by eto the villa, Scandicci, and Florence. It was hard, because this time, I don't know when or if I'll be back. Hopefully I'll make it back one day, but I'm not promised that. I'm not even promised to make it home. It's a crazy thought. I'm really not in control of my life, which kinda scares me. But honestly, I think I trust the One who is to do better things with it than I could do for myself, so I know I'm better off. It's like they say, "I don't know what the future holds, but I know Who holds the future." Hmm, that's comforting.
I wasn't bawling this time when I left...It was different. Yeah I love the villa, but it wasn't the same. As frustrated as I got this semester with some of my classmates and as stressed out as I seemed to be, happiness is something you remember, and I remember it as it was before. It was actually kinds creepy being so empty. The max number of us that were there this week was 7. Compared to 32. Yeah, it was weird.
Ok, I did cry a little on the train though when it left Florence. And here's what's dumb...I do have to go back through that trian station on my way to Venice on Saturday. But it won't be the same.
So now I'm in Assisi, home of good ol' St. Francis, St. Clare, and the Italian people that run my hotel and don't speak English. Like at all. The only word the guy knew in English was "Engleesh?" But I knew enough Italian to communicate with him. Which made me really happy. I have learned a little something worthwhile.
It's way colder here than it was in Florence, and it was so foggy for most of hte afternoon that I could hardly see the church I was standing right in front of.I went to the Duomo of San Rufino and the Basilica of St. Francis. My hotel is right by the Duomo, but they seriously hide the most important church building in the whole town. San Francesco took me FOREVER to find...and there are a bajillion signs that point towards it. I finally got here and went in after looking at the awesome nativity they have outside of it (Europeans LOVE Christmas)... apparently St. Francis was there when Jesus was born. lol. Anyway, I went and saw his tomb and people were like crying and praying, kinda like they were at Pope John Paul's tomb in the vatican. I wish I knoew just a little bit more about Catholicism. I've been living in the middle of it for 3 months and I still feel clueless. I don't even think I spelled it right.
Anyway so I went upstairs to see Giotto's frescoes of the life of St. Francis (I hate that I even know what a fresco is...or who Giotto is...Ok, I actually love it; it makes me feel smart.) I'm looking around and there are like 12 monks standing in a circle at the front of the room, and this policeman looking guy comes up and says something to me in Italian. All I get is "Santa Messe". Which is weird b/c besides that securit guard and all those creepy monks (who were giving me creepy hellish looks) I was the only other person in the church. I think 5 o'clock mass is actually held downstairs...maybe the monks stand around and pray during mass; who knows? So I left. It was dark adn foggy, so here I am. Sitting at my hotel with a package or Ringos (Italian Oreos) and a liter and a half of Pesca Estathe (the most delicious peach tea you'll ever have!) and writing a blog. Story of my life. Heehee.
So tomorrow I was thinking I would try to go to the Hermitage up on the mountain, but I might not want to walk 4 kilometers uphill and I'm seriously creeped out by friars now. htey are way creepier than they sound. No joke. I think they knew I wasn't Catholic and were trying to put the fear-of-God in me. Anyway, 2 weeks from today, I'll be home. Well, actually a little over 2 weeks from today... By the time I land in Georgia, it will be 11 pm on my body's timer and by the time I land at DFW, it will be 3:30am. Whew.

The Hiding Place

This was pretty much the highlight of my life...

So on Tuesday, I went to the Corrie ten Boom museum in Haarlem, Holland. (P.S. I really loved Holland...the Netherlands...whatever it's called. It was super cute, even though people didn't go around in their wooden shoes.) Anyway, I don't know if you know the story of the ten Boom family, but Corrie and her father and sister worked with the underground Dutch resistance and hid Jews and other people hiding from the gestapo in their house during germany's occupation of Holland during WW2. They ended up being sent to a concentration camp, and 5 members of Corrie's family died. Anyway, their house/clock shop is a museum now, and I went on a tour of it. The cute little Dutch lady must have thought I was insane, I was so excited. We got to see the secret room in their house where 4 Jews and 2 other people were safely hidden from the gestapo for 2 and a half days after Corrie, Betsie and Casper were arrested. We actually got to go inside it! They took out the wall in Corrie's former bedroom so now people can easily get in it. There were 5 of us in there and it was crowded! Definitely standing room only. And the woman giving our tour said the "toilet" would have been totally full and unusable after 1 day. Ick. Plus, they had to have all their belongings in there too so there would be no sign of them in the house. I got to stand on the farthest edge where the last person in would have stood and closed the passageway. It was super cool.

Google maps and H&M...

Friday afternoon, I left Florence for free travel, and I cried. Alot. I cried when I hugged Robbie, Mona, Leda, and Paola. I cried when I walked out of the villa. I cried when everyone else sent us off. I cried through the whole van ride to the bus stop. I cried when bus 16 started moving. I cried when I got off bus 16. I cried when I hugged Ryan and Andrew bye at Santa Maria Novella. I cried when my train left SMN. I cried when my train left its stop in Milan. No joke. And the ridiculous thing is that I'm going back to the villa in a week. Robbie and Mona and most of my HUF family won't be there, but I'll be back in Florence. I'll see Florence again. I'll see Leda and Paola again. And I'll even see Andrew at the villa and Ryan in London. I felt so silly.

I made it to Zurich safely and was immediately confused by my google maps directions. I wandered around the giant train station, going out and in every exit, until finding an ATM, getting some francs, and going up to the taxi stand. The cab driver first greeted me in Italian. How incredibly ironic. I pointed to the address on my map.

"You go over the bridge and then turn left," he said pointing out the bridge.
"Can you driver me there?"
"It's 500 meters!"
"Uh, okaaaaay..."
"Just go over that bridge and turn left."

I went over the bridge and turned left. By now my 18.5 kilo backpack was KILLING me. Then I wandered around a Zurich neighborhood in the dark for 45 minutes before finally finding my hotel. At one point, I walked down a street, realized that I had gone the wrong way, and turned around and came back uphill. When I got back to the intersection where I had started out, I realized that I had been standing in front of a big sign with the hotel logo on it. It had a big arrow and said "30m" on it. So I followed the arrow up a shady alley and arrived in my hotel room at midnight.

Zurich was not shady at all in the daytime. It was really beautiful actually. I walked to the train station. (It took me 7 minutes to walk what took me 45 minutes the night before.) After finding out that I didn't need a reservation to get to Frankfurt or Amsterdam, I set out down the street that is supposed to be like the main shopping drag in town. I went inside H&M and then realized that I could buy NOTHING because I had NO room in my backpack and no money to spare. Next time I come to Switzerland I will make sure that I have lots of money and an empty suitcase before I set off down Zurich's Bahrnhoffstrasse. Ok, I don't rememeber if it was called "Bahrnhoffstrasse" exactly, but it's the best I can do with these street names.

Then I went and saw the largest clock face in Europe at St. Peter's Church steeple. Corrie ten Boom would be proud. Of course, you can see it from all over the city, but I went up to the church. I think it was a holiday or something, because there was something going on at the church and there was a parade all along the river. I went down this cute little walkway right by the river and went into some of the little craft shops. I bought some postcards from this erally sweet and cute little lady that pretty much only spoke Swiss-German. Good thing I know the most important word: "Danke."

Except I kinda said it like an Italian or a Spanish-speaker would say it: "dahn-keh". Apparently it's supposed to be pronounced like "Dahn-kuh", or maybe it's just "Dahnk". Anyway, I don't know if she was correcting me or just thanking me back, but I've tried to say it right after that. I went on to the Coop, finding it very familiar. One entrance and not enough exits. Tons of people and very long lines. But I got some stuff to eat. My stomach had been growling and I realized that all I had eaten from my sack dinner was a clementine and a Mars bar. And I hadn't gotten up and ready in time for breakfast. It had been over 24 hours since I had eaten anything even resembling a meal. Welcome to free travel, I guess.

I left Zurich at 8 am the next morning and arrived in Frankfurt, Germany at noon-ish. I ate some sack lunch and waited for my train to Amsterdam, which arrived at like 1:30. We were supposed to get in to Amsterdam Centraal Station at 5:30, which would have given me enough time to catch the little connection to Haarlem at 5:40. We didn't get in until 5:45. I was proud of myself though. After a very short period of freaking out time I went and look at the departures for another train that would stop in Haarlem, which is like 15 minutes out of Amsterdam. Train run all the time and I missed the next one, but before I knew it, I was in Haarlem, which is just as cute as can be, even in the dark... and the rain. But it wasn't coming down too hard, so I found my hotel pretty easily.

I've decided that Haarlem is the Scandicci or the Netherlands. My hotel is on the square and all day there has been a little market going on. It was pouring down rain when I went out today. My clothes were soaked in just a matter of minutes, and my umbrella was useless against the wind. I started following my google maps directions to the ten Boom museum and, of course, walked the complete wrong direction. I can see right down the street from my hotel and somehow missed it. I turned around and came upon it. I didn't realize that Corrie ten Boom grew up next door to H&M... Anyway, her house is now. But the museum is closed on Mondays. Apparently in most of Europe, Monday is just like another weekend day. Which sorta seems like a good idea, but it was some poor planning on my part. I meant to leave for paris tomorrow, but I'll be staying in Haarlem another day. I mean that is the whole reason I came here. And that's ok. Paris will wait for me. And I can get lost again with my google maps directions...

:)

Talking About Love.

In exactly a week, I will be getting ready to spend my last night at the villa. It won't even be the same. Half of our group will have already left for free travel. At least 3 of my 5 roomies will be gone. THis wonderful semest has flown by. It seemed like forever while it was happening, but these last few weeks have gone way too fast. Going home will be bittersweet. I'm ready to be home with my friends and family. But I'm not ready to leave the villa, and even the people I'm here with. Yes, I'll see most of them on campus next semester, but it will never be the same. Most of all though, I'm not ready to leave Florence. This place has become almost just as much my home as Searcy has. I get so restless in Searcy, and after the time I've spent LIVING in ITALY, I don't want to go back. I love Harding, but I've never really loved Searcy.



I'm rambling alot, I know. I'm crying alot too, just FYI.



On the day that we got here, I came up to my room, and found my bed and closet with my name tags on them. On all of our beds there was a rose and 2 pieces of candy. A few days later, I ate my first piece of delicious Italian toffee chocolate peanuty candy and on the inside of the foil wrapper, there was some little piece of Italian wosdom. I don't remember it, but I thought it was cool. So naturally, I opened up the other, ate the wonderful candy, and looked at the words on the inside. I don't remeber the Italian, but the English translation of it read: "We've talked a lot about love. Now let's try to listen to it, shall we?" This is what I needed to hear. This was what would take over my semester.

While I've been here, I've been learning. And most of that learning has nothing to do with the classes I've taken. I want so much out of life, and God will give me what I need, but I feel like he's been leading me on this adventure to calm me down, to prepare me for a bigger purpose, one that I don't understand. And He hasn't revealed it to me yet, because He knows that if He did, I would never agree to it.

I don't just want to talk about it. I want to be in on it. But first, I have to learn to listen to it.

I don't have anything to be afraid of. I might have been to timid this semester, but I want to start jumping into God's will with both feet without thinking about what I'm doing first. It's such a wonderful exciting idea that I can hardly contain my excitement.

I love Italy. I love Firenze and Scandicci. I love the villa. I love my fellow HUFers and the racket they constantly make. Sometimes you have to be loud.

I don't think I can write anymore right now. I wish I had been blogging more and journalling this, but I know there are things God will never let me forget. Pray for me please. Starting on saturday, I'm spending a month travelling around Europe. God has big plans for it, I know.

:)

Pangur Ban

We went to Ireland on first free travel. It was AMAZING! We spent a lot of time travelling around and saw Belfast and Galway and Malahide, but we spent most of our time in Dublin. I completely fell in love with the city. I love Florence, but after just a week, I almost love Dublin just as much, even with the rain. Anyway, one of the cool things that we saw in Dublin was the Book of Kells. It's like this elaborately decorated copy of the 4 Gospels that was one of the first copies of Scripture in Ireland. It was really interesting going through the exhibit and and seeing all of the history about Christianity in Ireland. There were monks in monasteries in and around Ireland who were scribes and would copy down the scriptures, not unlike what was happpening all over the world, where Christianity was coming to areas of the world that were engulfed in pagainism. Anyway, I came across this poem in the book of Kells exhibit. It was written by a 9th century Irish monk who lived in a monastery and worked as a scribe. Apparently Pangur was the cat's name and Ban means it was a white cat. I never liked cats until I got here, now they're growing on me I think. But I think you'll love this poem even if you're not a fan of cats.



Pangur Ban



I and Pangur Ban, my cat,
'Tis a like task we are at;
Hunting mice is his delight,
Hunting words I sit all night.


Better far than praise of men
'Tis to sit with book and pen;
Pangur bears me no ill will;
He, too, plies his simple skill.

'Tis a merry thing to see
At our task how glad are we.
When at home we sit and find
Entertainment to our mind.

Oftentimes a mouse will stray
Into the hero Pangur's way;
Oftentimes my keen thought set
Takes a meaning in its net.

'Gainst the wall he sets his eye
Full and fierce and sharp and sly;
'Gasinst the wall of knowledge I
All my little wisdom try.

When a mouse darts from its den,
O how glad is Pangur then!
O what gladness I do prove
When I solve the doubts I love!

So in peace our tasks we ply;
Pangur Ban, my cat, and I.
In our arts we find our bliss,
I have mine and he has his.

Practice every day has made
Pangur perfect in his trade;
I get wisdom day and night,
Turning Darkness into Light.

What am I supposed to be learning again?

I've heard them say that you haven't seen Florence unless you've seen Michelangelo's "David". On HUF, you take a group tour of the Academia to see the David statue, among countless other beautiful works of art, but of course, thee only crowded part of the museum is where David is at. When we finally got the chance to go up to the 17-ft-tall statue, our tour guide made us walk all teh way around it several times, and we had to take notes for our humanities class over the uniqueness of Michelangelo's scupture versus the Davids of other sculptors. Once we had a chance to get over the awkwardness and take some good notes, our guide, Cindy, presented us with an interesting question: In teh sculpture, has or hasn't David already fought Goliath? Apparently, it's a pretty big debate in the world of art.

David's sling is empty in his hand, stretched out across his back. His face is tense, obviously showing worry, and even fear. His body's posture differs greatly from his face, however. He seems very relaxed, neither worried nor stressed. He seems confident. Victorious.

While we are all left for ourselve to decide what point in David's battle against Goliath Michelangelo has portrayed David to be in, Cindy brought up the point that David might have already killed the giant, and is not left with the task of cutting off his head. His sling is empty because it has just been slung. His body is relaxed because he has just become the victor over not only Goliath, but all the Philistines. The worst is over. Maybe the emotion on his face is not fear or stress. Maybe it's disgust at what he has to do now. He's just a little grossed out.

It's a possibility. Creative. That's what art is about, right?

Some of my friends leaned toward the idea that David has not only killed Goliath, he's done with the battle. They talked about how the empty sling and relaxed posture were obviously the most important part of David. The way he's standing became very popular for scultures in the Renaissance, it;s true. The whole idea pf trying to capture the reality of man and all of that. Maybe the worry on David's face is because he is not left with the task of ruling over God's people. He's already been anointed, and he knows the difficulty that he will face in the future.

This is a good point too.

Art is supposed to be very personal. It doesn't only matter what David meant to Michelangelo or to Florentines or to Florence's enemies; it matters what the David means to me. Michelangelo can no longer tell me exactly what the David was supposed to symbolize or whether or not he had killed the giant yet or not. So I am left to make the decision. And I have.

I don't think David has defeated Goliath yet. There is no stone in his sling; he's hardly gotten a start on his planning. But he is prepared to use what he has to do what needs to be done. He has to fight for his people and remind the world that Yahweh is God. Yes, his face is stressed and worried. You would be scared too. Contrary to the appearance of Michelangelo's scupture, this man after God;s own heart was indeed a man, not a god. He had plenty of reasons to be afraid. He was taking the biggest risk ever, preparing to make a sacrifice. I doubt it would be possible to be cocky enough to not be frightened by the idea of going one-on-one against a giant like Goliath. And I don't think David was cocky, nor do I think Michelangelo has portrayed him this way. I think he is confident. His God will save him. He knows it. he knows what's been preomised and he knows the Power that he's fighting for. He knew in his head and his heart that the God he was fighting for was bigger than any giant, or any army, and when he came to terms with that fact, of course he relaxed. His God would always be big enough to defeat his enemies for him. Even his fear. Even his worry. Even his stress.

I'm picking up my sling. There are alot of things I'm worried about. I have alot to stress out about at this very moment. I feel like everyhting is so uncertain. But it's really not. It's going to be ok, because my God is big enough to knock all of my worry and fear right out, and taake my trembling hand and lead me through all the rest.

"I am still confident of this:
I will see the goodness of the LORD
in the land of the living.
Wait for the LORD;
be strong and take heart
and wait for the LORD."
Psalm 27:13-14

Oh, the things you learn about Jesus from grapes...

Whew! So much has happened and it always happens so fast! Yesterday, I was in the library finishing a Humanities essay and one of the girls sitting at the table with me looked up and announced that we are a quarter of the way through our time at the villa. INSANE!

I think I am finally getting the hang of Florence and (in a way) the Italian culture. I am starting to figure out where things are (like the bus stops) and the best way to get there. Italian people don't quite scare me as much as they did a couple of weeks ago, and I've actually been brave enough to buy things (which might escalate into something that is not very good...). Anyway, things just seem to get better and better.

This week has been crazy. On Tuesday we got to go to a Fiorentina soccer game. I've never seen a town so insane about a professional sporting event. We took bus 16 from Scandicci to the city and while we were waiting at te next already crowded bus stop, a herd of drunk Italian guys with their faces painted purple and their fiorentina jerseys showed up. When all of us piled onto the bus that took us to the stadium, everyone was singing. Singing and banging on the roof of the bus and yelling and even people on the street joined in. It was AWESOME! (Yes, I had a hand on my purse at all times!) Andyway, it was even crazier when we got htere. You stand up THE WHOLE GAME. When we scored our first goal, the woman standing next to me jumped on me and gave me a huge hug. Of course, I wasn't expecting this, so I sorta fell over. It was hilarious. Everyone was smoking weed. Everyone was wearing purple. Except, of course, the Liverpool fans, who were crowded into one small section that was surrounded on all sides except the side closest to the field by those clear walls. And there was security everywhere, probably for their physical protection. It was a really grwat time. Firenze won, and everyone in the whole city knew it. Everyone was honking their car horn. We walked across a street on our way to the bus stop and a bajillion mopeds were waiting for the light. When we crossed and they saw all our purple Fiorentina shirts, they all honked and it was super loud. At first I was like "Uh, it says it's ok to cross the street, and you have a red light." Then I realized what was going on. You could even hear horns honking back in Scandicci. Talk about spirit...

We has onsite classes at San Gimignano and Siena the next day. I LOVED San Gimignano. These are medieval towns that are up in the hills. San Gimignano is smaller and had less people. It had all of these medieval towers and you could go up on a really high point and look out at the hills of Tuscany. SO beautiful. Siena was awesome too, but it was bigger, which took that small town Tuscany feel out of it. But lovely none the less.

On Thursday we went to this vineyard and harvested grapes for these people. It looked like it was going to rain all morning, but it held off until the afternoon. I think that Robbie, our director has a deal with the people that run the vineyard- he has a bunch of college kids that the vineyard owners can have as cheap labor all morning long in exchange for a delicious lunch cooked over an open fire and and "experience". Anyway, it was fun for the first 2 hours, then it got to be really monotonous. But it was still an experience and I'm really glad I got to do it... I mean how many of YOU can say that you harvested grapes in a Tuscan vineyard, surrounded by the Tuscan hills and a medieval castle?

Yeah, that's what I thought.... :)

On friday we had a less-awesome-than-wednesday's-onsite-class onsite class in Florence. Medici chapel and crypt and San Lorenzo Church, etc. But after lunch we went to the Academia and saw Michelangelo's David. It's a little weird seeing things like David and the Duomo and stuff that's so famous like that. Almost unreal.

That night, I went to cooking class. We made pasta from scratch and tomoato sauce from scratch and biscotti (which you dip in wine, not coffee in Italy) from scratch and these chicken rolls stuffed with spinach and stuff. We called them "chicken logs". It was all so so good. And I have the recipe. So I can cook them when I get back. The chef that taught us used to work in a restaurant and now she has her own cooking school. Her name was Marcella and she wanted to call us all by Italian names. Well, I'm pretty sure "Allison" does not translate into ANY other language. I have encountered Spanish speakers and Italian speakers that can't even PRONOUNCE it. And while marcella could say my name, it wasn't Italian, so she called me Alice all night. (ah-LEE-chay)

Yesterday was lame. We had to make up classes from the week. Class from 8-5 with just a lunch break. Ugh. 2 tests and a quiz yesterday too. Ew, ew, ew.

Today was the first time that we got to go into Florence for church. (Chiesa is the Italian word for church. [key-EH-sah] I think it's a really pretty word. We sang some songs in Itlaian and some in English. Some of the Italian ones are not originally in English, but today we sang Let the Lower Lights be Burning, Higher Ground, and Jesus Loves Me in Italian. :) It was AWESOME. The communion was indeed wine. And everyone made comical faces while drinking it. (It was a little strange.) Their cchruch building has a dome ceiling like alot of church buildings here, so the acoustics were super cool. We sang an Italian song that was just gorgeous. I might have to find out the name of it b/c it was so beautiful with the acoustics. After church we had a potluck, which they called "agape feast". (I like that better than potluck.) They just turned the wooden pews around to face eah other and put tables us in between them. We ate our dinner in the same room we had just worshipped in. But like Italy, we still had a first course of pasta served to us before we got up and went throught he line to pick out what else we wanted to eat. It was all so delicious. Church people always make good food. Italian Church people make AMAZING food. During the potluck I got to meet a few really cool people from the church. There was a couple, whose names I forgot, that ate at my table. The woman was an American and the man was an Italian. I met another guy named Nick who was born in Italy but was raised in Connecticut. He lives in Florence now and was really fun to talk to. He had lots of good pointers about travelling in Europe.

Ok, Zeus, the cat that lives at the villa just jumped up on my bed and plopped down next to me. Now he's purring. He's really old and just has one tooth. So sweet. I might have to get a kitty when I grow up.

It's tea time now. And tomorrow we're going to Pisa and Lucca and then on to Cinque Terre. So I'll go now. God bless! I love you all and miss you!

"I have never seen American girls so...sober!"

Since getting here, I've gotten to meet a lot of interesting people. In addititon to my roomies and my classmates (some of whom are more interesting than others...) I've gotten to meet other American students that are studying in Florence too. They've been having this basketball tournament that finally ended tonight where teams played each other that were made up of American students from all over and Florentine students. On Sunday, we had a quick worship service and then we rushed off to several different basketball games. We were supposed to be meeting people, even if we wern't playing in the tournament, but when we got there, the only other spectators were more HUF students that had cought an earlier bus. (The public transportation system and I are still not very good friends.) Me and like 3 other people who were just watching had the opportunity to talk to a guy named Shawn from California in between games, and when we were ready to leave and go back to the villa, Robbie invited him and a few other California State Uniersity students to come back to the villa for lunch. California people are supposed to be real characters and these people cartainly were. It just made me think of all the cool opportunities that we have to shine God's light in Florence. It seemed easy to talk to them about our school and why we do what we do. Easier than it would have been back home even. We had common ground- Florence. And we were all American students. It was so easy to just start a conversation and begin to build a relationship. It was quite exciting for me, and I'm super grateful that God gave me that opportunity to learn from. I can do that at home. All I have to do is be real. Because my God is real. And I don't think that anyone can deny that for too long. :)
On Monday afternoon, we did a scavenger hunt in Florence. I was on a team with two other HUFfers and and 4 Italian girls- Valentina, Laura, Veronica, and one more whose name I absolutely can't remember, because I couldn't even pronounce it. They were really super sweet, even though Laura was the only one who spoke English (and her English was like my Spanish) and Valentina was smoking constantly. We had an amazing time running around the city together, taking random pictures of ourselves with the landmarks we were supposed to find. I really loved Veronica. She told me about how she went to Volterra to see them film New Moon and got to meet Stephenie Meyer and Rob Pattinson. (Jealous!) It was amazing gettting to talk to her. We could hardly understand each other, but it's amazing how a language barrier can really disappear if you just want it to badly enough.
After the scavenger hunt, we went to a pizzeria with all the Italians. We sat with the people from our group and at the other end of the table, there were some outrageously good-lookin' Italian fellas. ;) We all drank out Cokes while they had glass after glass of wine. It was quite comical... Italians drink wine with their food, and most don't drink at dinnertime to get drunk. Most of the girls in our group only had a few glasses, and Laura just had water, because she doesn't drink at all. The guys there had a differnt idea though, and they drank the house wine until every bottle on our table was completely empty. And they started to get a little silly. They kept trying to get us to try some, and because they didn't speak English, it was a little harder to get them to understand than it was to get the Californians to understand. One guy even poured a little wine into the empty water glass of the girl sitting next to me. He then filled it up the rest of the way with water. "There! It's Coke!" They kept making toasts. "To McDonalds!" was probably the most hilarious. At one point, another guy made the comment in broken English, "I've never seen American girls so...sober!", which just brings me back to what I said a while ago. The Harding students that are constantly getting cycled through this ancient and beautiful city have an amazing opportunity to show these people a new kind of American, and really just a new kind of peron in general.
Ok, they turn off the internet a midnight, so I'll go ahead and finish up now. I miss everyone at home, and I get a little lonely sometimes, but for the most part, I really like the people I'm here with and I'm definitely loving Italy so far. <3