Italians Just Know...

How to make things beautiful.

Like Christmas decorations. I've always thought they had a certain flair. In the cities, they always hang rows of lights above each street, and it's such a cool effect.

But this year I saw something new.

They are projecting lights onto buildings, but not just any lights. They're designed for the buildings so that the lights match the architecture. Like so:

That pretty much blew my mind.

I mean, how do they get it so perfect???

#goals

But I Want to Let you All in on a Little Secret

 Which is another home store, not unlike IKEA, but French, and fabulous, called Maisons du Monde.

They have the BEST decor!! I love all of it and want to buy it all, but it won't fit in my suitcase.

So here is just a sneak peek at some of their best stuff!

This Vespa table, which is MUST have:

This cabinet that looks like an old gas pump:

And this beautiful pink and gold globe.

I could go on and on, but I won't. I'm going to go paint and drink prosecco, but more on that, later.

This is why I don't blog...

 ...because I get caught up in the moment and forget my job as Travel Blogger Extraordinaire. I mean, how dare I enjoy what's happening in the present and forget my loyal public (my mother and myself)??

So I haven't blogged since Spain.

But I've been in Italy now for 4 days, visiting my boyfriend outside of Torino. He has started a new job managing a GastroPub in Pinerolo that has just opened, which is keeping him very busy--especially in the evenings, and so I've had some time to just enjoy my time in Italy.

Now, I could be checking out the cathedrals or visiting museums, or even taking a gastronomic tour, gorging myself on pasta...but I'm no tourist. I'm more of a local! And so I have been doing those super-secret things that locals do--like shopping at IKEA.

My friend Emilia has been looking for a new couch, and so I told her I'd meet her at IKEA and we could check out their selection. And so we did! She's a total love, but usually shows up very late, and this time was no exception, so I had time to just wander IKEA by myself..and I realized something.

IKEA is exciting and romantic.

Now you may be already shaking your head...but I swear it's true. In fact, I found myself a little sentimental and sad there, because the store is entirely populated by couples. Old couples, young couples, gay couples, straight couples, couples with young children--but couples. All dreaming and planning--starting a new home together, or renovating a home they've had for years. But I found myself lonely. I remembered that when Marco and I were dating when we still lived in Italy, we used to visit IKEA to buy the $1 candles which were literally all we could afford, and to dream about how we'd decorate a future home. And now, I have a lovely partner, but who lives in another country, and so we don't have the ability to plan a home together right now.

Regardless, I found it lovely.

And then Emilia showed up, and we bought her a couch, and did partake in some haute cuisine:

I thought Spain was only 7/10 but now it's 10/10.

Or is it 11/10?? 

Either way, despite the fact that I've been to Barcelona a handful of times before, I had even more fun this time. 

First of all, it's amazingly beautiful and warm here. Sunny, blue skies, 60s... I'm at the airport awaiting my flight to Italy, and I'm sitting outside on a terrace. Little birds are stealing my fries and I'm wearing no coat. It's wonderful.

Oh no you don't, little bird 

Awaiting my flight outside.

And Hans has shown me that this weather is awaiting me in Italy:

I thought I'd left Michigan!

Anyway.

But it was also so fun to hang out with my brother and sister-in-law here in Spain! We walked by the beach, had paella and sangria made with CAVA and life was perfect 

I love me a good gimmick and 2 showed up yesterday at lunch. 

First, a paella timer, which they brought to the table so you wouldn't drive them crazy asking when it would be ready:

And a spork to eat it with!

I need one of these for rice!!!

Anyway, I am so happy I got a few hours with them in Barcelona...and now on to Italy!!

The First Hiccup in my Wild Week

I mean, it's a tale as old as time 

I arrived! But my luggage didn't.

The flight was delayed out of Detroit, as I mentioned...and I ran like a track star through that airport, but apparently my bags are lazy a#$holes. So they're still hanging out in Paris.

They're missing out, because it's sunny and 60 here, and I'm in the heart of the action on Las Ramblas!

And now, off to consume large amounts of sangria with Max and Maryel.

A Wild Week

I'm a very seasoned traveler. I've been to Europe 17 times this year. I get postcards from stewards on the plane thanking me for my business. I have Diamond Medallion status with Delta, and am working toward my Two Million Miler status. Still, what I have planned this week is not for the faint of heart, and things are already going awry.

Let me just preface this by saying that I have a bit of princess in me. I like to think that I'm easy-going and low maintenance, but the truth is that I prefer my comforts, and you wouldn't find me dead in a tent. And those comforts are sort of growing over time, so things like sipping champagne in the Sky Club before my flight are now my base expectations. I know. I'm not proud of it. But there you have it. 

So it was to my dismay that I discovered that I was $5k short in MQD spend to keep my Diamond status on Delta for next year. I WAS GOING TO LOSE STATUS!! This was a tragedy. I researched a million ways to game this system and find a way around it, but no such luck. I was going to have to buy a business class ticket to Europe. And so I did. Obviously.

So here I sit on my second leg of a flight to Barcelona. Panting, with my sweater in my lap and a sweat-soaked tank top, while stylish and horrified Europeans eye me with mild disgust and a good amount of shock, as they sit in coats and scarves. But I've just sprinted through Charles de Gaulle airport, and all those Orangetheory classes didn't help.

Why don't I run through my itinerary??

I've been to Europe 17 times this year because my boyfriend lives in Italy. And I am madly in love with the boy. And in the end, it's no hardship to spend a ton of time in the Bel Paese.

And so I'm going back to see him, because, of course. But I'm no simple girl, so this time, I included some add-ons.

First: fly to Barcelona, via Paris. Why?? Last time I was in Barcelona, there was a terrorist attack, and I found myself shuttered in a bar while hordes of screaming people ran by. So what's taking me back? As luck would have it, my brother and his wife are there, on the tail-end of a 3 week vacation. And since they live in L.A., and I'm in Detroit, and don't see them all that often, I figured I'd take advantage of being on another continent together and pay them a visit! So that's where I'm headed today.

Tomorrow I'll fly to Italy, and stay through Friday...when I'll head to Paris for the night and stay with some friends there. I'll then fly the next morning to New York, where I'll meet my cousin and son, and where we'll watch my daughter in a dance performance. Then it's back to Detroit the next day. So 4 countries in 9 days... totally and completely doable.

Only .. I'm pretty sure my luggage isn't on this plane. 😏

I Stand Out Here Like I Did in India

 Well, so does my mom.

I think we're the only 2 blondes I've actually seen here (we can get into the fact that I am not technically a real blonde later. What's important is that's how I look).

We look like this:

                

And since most everyone else here look like these beautiful people:

We tend to out ourselves as Americans. Which, unfortunately, is not a sensation that I get to experience often. Being the only "Westerner." Because it is good for you to feel at times like the odd man out, to get to understand that feeling, and realize that there is a great big world out there that doesn't revolve around you or your culture. So yes, good....but at the same time, you're a target for all the scams.

Yesterday we were in this pretty little plaza, and a guy speaking great English (which is unusual here--because the lack of American/European influence means it's been wonderfully untouched) approached us, because--hair, hat, we're tourists, and asked if we wanted a photo.

He then went on to give us the history of the plaza, oldest church, 375 years old, old convent, etc...and then worked his way into explaining that he had an emerald shop, and that emeralds were THE thing to buy in Colombia. He had taken a great photo of us, so I played along and went to his shop. 

And I mean, the emeralds were beautiful. But the first thing he had me put on cost $1,600 US dollars, which is WAY out of this girl's budget. I'm like, I'm sorry, I don't have that kind of money.

At which point he looked me with disbelief and disgust and took off to find other blonde tourists, if possible.

So yeah. I get that being from the US means I must be rich. And in comparative terms, I suppose I am. 

But I still can't buy his emeralds.

And he did take a good photo.

The difference in the cost of things is staggering here...I haven't had a meal that cost me more than $15 and the best cocktail hasn't been more than $5. My dad bought a bottle of Glenfiddich for $30! You could get so used to it. And it's hard to distance yourself from what you think things ought to cost to what they actually do.

So there was, in fact, some discussion at breakfast this morning over what the driver we hired to take us to beaches today ought to actually be paid, with some in the "we should pay him more because it's still cheap for us as Americans and it's great for him" camp and some in the "yes but we're actually screwing ourselves because paying less is still a lot for him" camp, and both are valid.

Either way, I'm just happy to be spending a lot less than for a week in Colombia than I will for 2 days in New York next week. 

But I Thought Italy Had Prepared me for the Heat....

 I'm sitting here in my nice, cold hotel room writing this (never fear, I will be taking to the streets again shortly), with suspected heat stroke. 

Now I am one of those typical midwesterners who gets so used to months of snow that at the first sign of a 50 degree day is wearing shorts. That's hot for me. So even though I've spent years of summers in Italy, dying in the non-existent air conditioned conditions (as Italians swear it will kill you), they ain't got nothin' on Colombia. I mean, I am scarily close to the equator, so I shouldn't actually be surprised, but for some reason, I thought I could go running in the 130 degree heat this morning. 

OK. it's likely not 130 degrees out. Maybe it's even only 80, and I am just a whiny baby, but I tend toward the dramatic.

Anyway, I went running. And that's because the amount of alcohol I consumed yesterday (and consequently, calories) sort of scared me into some sort of physical activity to counteract said alcohol. So off to run I went!

And true, it may have created a bit of heat stroke in me, but hey! That's the price you pay to be able to experience this:

Or this:

Or this:

Which were all scenes from my run today, which was awesome because it was early and there were relatively few people around. 

So now, I am headed back out into the heat, with my parents, brother and sister-in-law. And I will wear a big hat like a good little tourist and throw back several cold cervezas....and enjoy this gorgeous Cartagenan heat.

Cartin' off to Cartagena

Well, 5 hours ago I abandoned all hope of getting all my work done before heading out on vacation, turned on my OOO and fell into bed for a quick 4 hours of sleep before my alarm sounded at 3 am. Because I. Am. Off!! To Colombia!!

And while YOU might imagine drug cartels and dictators, I'm looking forward to beautiful colonial architecture and eating my weight in empanadas.

So I've got several hundred thousand pesos in my pocket (don't worry--that's like 20 bucks), I convinced Spirit to let me depart even without having pre-filled out some mysterious immigration form, and I'm awake at 5 am. It's an auspicious start to this next adventure!!

I'm a Colombian millionaire.