High high Low low

High high

A day of sharing with a woman from Florence. We met through Couch-surfing. We walked, talked, drank cappucino, went to her brother's house; then her father's land in the Tuscany Hills of olive trees, fig trees, and grape vineyards. 

I met another brother who 15 years ago met a beautiful young woman from Japan. They married and she is now fluent in Italian; she came to study Italian in Florence and stayed. They drove us to the Tuscany fields where I met ten more of the family: children to grandfather and a second older gentleman in red suspenders, no shirt, and pasta-belly. He completed a stereotype and I loved it. There was no TV or music, no background but the wind; cooked red and green peppers in bowls, bottles of olive oil pressed from his own orchard; the porch and house were one and were open to the Tuscany breeze and view of Florence and The Duomo. The children played simply and easily. 

It looked like an Italian Cooking Show with Patrice and I ate homemade Italian pizza and spaghetti. I laid in a hammock, drank wine, and ate figs off the tree. I brought home two containers of fresh figs to the hostel.

Low low

After nine hours with this lovely Italian family, I opened the door to my hostel room. The two Aussie girls who were not scheduled to leave for several more days were packing. Within five minutes, they would have been gone. Because the center of Florence is closed to cars, it is near impossible to drive anyone home. It was a gracious and random act of kindness for the family to drive me and the figs to the door. Had they not, I would have missed the two young women from Australia. They were called home on emergency. One of the girls received word that her mother died in a car accident. Today. 

Just like that... The father and sister were present.

Both recent college graduates, they had been on the road 3.5 months and were scheduled to return in two weeks out. With tears and sorrow...