In January of 2003, my family and I went on a vacation to Italy! I'm sure it was exciting and culturally stimulating, but to be honest, I really don't remember much at all. Darn sleep deprivation. Anyhoo, I thought it would be fun to refer back to my diary a bit to see what happened there...of course, I didn't write much about Italy itself...typical. Oh well, here goes.
I think the thing I was most excited about was the plane trip. Yes, the plane trip. (You have to know it was my first ever, though. I'm not that pathetic.) Well, we arrived at the airport with two hours to spare. Plenty of time, no? No. For some reason we hadn't pondered the possibility that we might actually stand in security lines for 3/4 of that time, proving time and time again that, no, we were not terrorists, no, we were not concealing weapons of mass destruction in our luggage, no, we were not going to blast the plane into oblivion. When at last we reached the plane itself, we ran through as fast as our 80 pounds of luggage would allow us, and breathed a sigh of relief.
We were safe. Unfortunately, we left behind one minor detail; my dad.
We doubled back, waited, then bolted back through the barrier with literally five seconds to spare. As I mildly put it in my diary:
My first time on a plane! We almost didn't make it, too.
People always complain about how putrid and horrible airline food is, but I have to give them credit; for frozen-reheated meals that have been mass produced and distributed to hundreds of airlines all over the nation, they were actually surprisingly edible. We had absolutely no deaths on our flight to speak of. Just a few I'd rather not speak of. Oh geez, yes, I'm kidding. Honestly. *Rolls eyes.* Anyhoo. I think flying is my new favorite hobby. I mean, free food, adorable little coke cans, "Home Improvement" in German, scratchy translucently thin blankets, weird guys staring at you while you try to sleep; what more could you ask for?
We stayed in this 500-year-old(at least) apartment, but the outside was quite deceiving. Inside, there was light, running water, a refridgerator, a few outlets, and a television; all the basic necessities of life. Once we "settled in"(threw our stuff randomly on the floor), we headed out for the Italian classic; Pizza! (Yeah, yeah, I know it's not really natively Italian, but they sure seem to think it is.)
The first place we went was Florence. All I seem to have written in my diary is where we went shopping, but I seem to remember a really big building or two...oh yes, here it is:
There was this huge church with a really tall tower that we climbed. Unfortunately, there were 414 steps. And no elevator.
Here is also where I discovered my dad's..erm..passion for taking pictures. Of everything. Of everywhere. Of everyone.
...he's always leaving us to take "one more picture" and he carries those darn cameras everywhere! (Note: plural.)
If you go to Italy and do nothing else, the one thing you MUST do is go to St. Marcos Square in Venice and feed pigeons. You can buy bird feed from one of the many stands there, and if you're too cheap to buy bird feed, steal some. I mean it. Most birds are too scared of large crowds of people to come anywhere near them, but not these ones. If you put so much as a seed in your hand, or on your arm, or my personal favorite, on your head, in a matter of seconds you'll be flocked by so many pigeons you won't be able to see your hands in front of you. And they rarely ever take a dump on you. (They probably just didn't like my sister.) But in all seriousness, I think that was the part of the trip I enjoyed most. Closely followed by the Italian ice cream, gelato.
There wasn't much else we did. We saw a bunch of museums, looked at painting after sculpture after building, and ate a lot of pizza. Actually, all we really ate there was spaghetti, pizza, and McDonald's. How pathetic is that. We go to a foreign country and eat fast food. Oh well.
When we came back home, we were all exhausted, culture-shocked, and plain BLAAAAAHHHHH. So what do we do? Sleep for two hours and go to school the next day.
Ouch.
The next morning I remembered almost nothing of the trip. Actually, even now it's a blur of camera flashes, french fries, and big imposing buildings. But I'm sure I had fun.