The Florentine Ages

I hopped on an Eurostar train bound for chilly Florence for the weekend with my giant 32 person group. (I swear I will never travel in herds, packs, flocks or gaggles ever again - it's an absolute nightmare). Daylight hours were a blast but nightlife? There could not be more drama and we all know how much Faith loathes drama - I don't roll that way. I got chewed out by my professor for being at the wrong place at the wrong time. You don't want to see an angry South African man in all his fury at 3 a.m. Yikes

The sepia washed photo is from inside the Duomo or Basilica di Santa Maria del Fiore in Florence (a.k.a. Firenze, the origin of the name of which I still need to wikipedia). I huffed and I puffed all 463 steps up to the top of the dome overlooking the soft fog that nestled all over Florence. Stairs were killer but absolutely worth it for the bomb diggity view.

The only export is leather, I swear. I could smell cow hide in every twist and turn down alleys and every shop window flaunted rows upon rows of leathaaaa purses, jackets and wallets. But where else would you want leather than Italy?? So yes, I now have a rockin' leather jacket but from Rome. I like to think it makes me look tougher than I really am - gotta make up for my being vertically challenged!

Mwah