My guide book told me that “no matter what country you consider home, in Sienna, you’re Italian.” (Doubt it)

My apartment is a tundra. Slept in my mittens last night, an adventurous but necessary choice. The heat is on a timer, entirely out of our control and exclusively turns on j u s t as we’re leaving. Could have sworn that I liberated at least two blankets from the airline, unfortunately I think it was all part of a vivid dream. damn, because I'd give anything for those scratchy burlap sacks now. what else...already took a little day trip, went to Sienna with Adrienne yesterday—SO SO proud that I found her apartment on my own, navigating exclusively with landmarks. Discovered when walking alone, it’s essential to look pissed when any tour group passes you on the street, you’ll instantly blend in as a local. Sienna was a true taste of Tuscany. Adrienne showed me her school, met some peeps, got pizza, hit up every .99Euro store to stock up on everything we didn’t need. Went to a basilica that has saint somethings finger and literal face on display. Crazy, crazy Catholics. wanted to love it there until I hated everything about it. almost got stranded for the night, turns out there is a schedule for the week and for the weekend. a las, we waited for an hour for the 7:40 bus that never intended on coming. Huddled together with our tabaccheria snacks for the ten something bus. At this point we were so deliriously tired we felt wasted. And ready. Had subsequent breakdowns, comparable to the “you know that…” incident of OH six. cut to me drinking tap water out of a hotel coffee pot with tears uncontrollably running down my face. Because YOU KNOW THAT... I love you all so much.