2 august 2005

Today was pretty fuckin fantastic as days go. I woke up in Debbie's Siena apartment, one with a big door like I've always dreamed about, and lay about in the sun eating a nectarine and reading The Art of Travel. Then I booked my flight to Amsterdam, wrote letters, chatted with the town artist who specializes in illuminated manuscripts, ate grapefruit gellatto, made a quick sketch.

Everything in life feels fabulously easy after the Balkans.

And part of me feels like I cheated, like I should have gone to Slovenia for my last four days, because it's a place I've been imagining ever since the Slovenian guys in my Turkish hostel five years ago told Slovenian stories.

But then the rest of me opens another bottle of wine and goes back to laughing with my friends on the Piazza del Campo.