Day Two-Siena

Today, we had a wonderful day trip to Siena, which Scott will detail in his post. I have some thoughts I wanted to write, before they flew right on out of my head. I have some thoughts because I have actually had moments of peace, quiet, and true enjoyment of the simple pleasures of life. It makes me realize how I've created some habits in my life that do not allow for much of any of those things. Checking my e-mail once a day, rather than every time my phone "dings" has been very refreshing. Not hearing a phone ring (the house, mine, Scott's) has also been refreshing. No tv, no radio, no neighbor kids running through the house-refreshing. There is not a clock in this house, and I'm not even sure what day it is. I am on vacation, but there are some changes I can make at home that can help. I have often said I haven't had time to have a complete thought or finish a project since I had kids, but some of that is my own fault. I don't let myself just sit and think very often.

There is a lot to be learned from Italians. They know how to take pleasure in life. They make things beautiful. They have conversations with each other. They (at least those I have met in the past few days) are kind to foreigners. It's amazing what someone with survival Italian and someone with limited English can accomplish with a few words and lots of gestures, if they are both willing. Oh, and everything that is said about how they eat is true and then some. I could go on and on, but I'll just say this, "gelato."

At home, I rarely have to ask for help. I actually take pride in that. It's very cool to be in situations where you are the fish out of water and are forced to ask people for help. In another language. We were the only non-Italians in a grocery store today, and we didn't know the produce procedure and the check out lady and the lady behind us in line helped us. They weren't even irritated that we stalled the line for a minute.

Today, I watched Margaret walk across the street from the Duomo and buy two oranges from a street vendor. They greeted each other, had some trouble with the price and money exchange, but he wrote down the amount and patiently waited while she got out the money. They said their parting words and she came back excited about her accomplishment. That whole situation was hard for me...I would prefer her not leave my side, and I really wanted to step in when she was struggling, but it was important that she do it.

This has been a little scattered and random, so I'll end with some final thoughts:

My husband and son look Italian, even though there's not a drop of it in their family.

I think older Italian men riding their bicycles are about the cutest thing ever.

I thought it was strange that the gift shop of the Duomo was playing American pop music.

Gelato.