Florence among the Apennine Mountains. My Italian instructor had us hike up to San Miniato al Monte for this city view.
Three years ago, I boarded a plane on my way to a study abroad in Florence, Italy, equally terrified and excited for the next five weeks to come. I bought my ticket — my first huge purchase as a 22-year-old — and it would take me from St. Louis to Montreal to Rome and back.
When I arrived in Rome, the plan was to take the train to Florence. However, almost every piece of advice that I religiously followed from Google was wrong. Not every Italian spoke English. You didn’t get your train ticket to Florence from where it said I should. Jet lagged in a foreign country, I did the only thing I could: I followed the signs.
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MAY 30, 2015
After a nauseating ferry ride from Naples to Capri (what a way to learn that you’re prone to sea sickness), we finally arrived at the base of the famed Mediterranean island. We noticed that everyone was jumping into white vans that shuttled them off, but we opted to walk instead.
Four flights of stairs in, the city was still nowhere in sight. We trampled through makeshift rock steps that trailed up Capri, surrounded by white artsy beach houses (owned by the rich and famous, no doubt) with views of baby blue skies and cerulean waters. We emerged from another flight of stairs and came out into a road, where I spotted a local man. Centro? I asked, out of breath. He pointed up.
Hundreds of steps later, hungry and ready to give up, we were almost to the top when we smelled it. Warm sugary scents wafted down the stairs toward us and instantly, we picked up the pace. What was that smell? we wondered. Was it fresh baked chocolate croissants? Was there some new Italian delicacy waiting for us at the top of the stairs? We finally broke out into the centro of Capri and sped walked past the high-end boutique shops and restaurants when we saw it.
The source of those delicious aromas came from piping hot waffle irons, conveniently placed by an open window, churning out just-baked waffle cones for Buonocore Gelateria. In awe, I watched as they took those thin crepe-like waffles and rolled them into a perfect shape of an ice cream cone. It was the most memorable welcome to Capri.
I fell asleep to the steady whoosh of cars that would rock our van every time one would pass. The traffic lulled me to sleep and before I knew it, the sun was rising and the fog was lifting from the bay. The van was perspirating and had it not been for the limo-tinted windows, our illegal presence would be given away. But it didn’t matter. All the cars that surrounded us on this strip of parking space had sleeping inhabitants, and it also struck me that quite possibly half of L.A. was homeless. No, not homeless* like the man who dug into the trash can a few feet away from us and ate the remainder of my In-N-Out Double Double. Homeless as in didn’t care for a home and would rather wake up to the waves crashing on Santa Monica’s beach.
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Lula’s Tavern was recommended to me from the very beginning by my friend’s husband who is a Moberly native. Moberly is not a tiny town compared to Missouri standards, population roughly around 13,700, but Lula’s fit the requirement nevertheless. Upon research of this place, the words “warm beer and lousy service” kept appearing in contrast to it’s high ratings and outstanding comments. What was going on?
via Tiny Town Tastes: Lula’s Tavern in Moberly | Food & Drink | Vox Magazine
You’re in for a history lesson. My tiny-town travels have taken me to the quaint historic town of Blackwater, which is so small that if you blink, you might miss it. Located 40 minutes west of Columbia, past Boonville and a couple exits, Blackwater was once a refueling station for the Missouri Pacific Railroad between Jefferson City and Kansas City.
via Tiny Town Tastes: Iron Horse Hotel & Restaurant in Blackwater | Restaurants | Vox Magazine
After a slew of suggestions, I had a handful that pointed me in the direction of Claysville Store, 5650 E. Claysville Road in Hartsburg, located north of Jefferson City by the river and Katy Trail. I headed south on U.S. 63 and took a right at Claysville road down yet another winding path to find out what the rave was all about.
via Tiny Town Tastes: the Claysville Store in Hartsburg | Food & Drink | Vox Magazine
Chim’s Thai Kitchen is my go-to place for pad thai in Columbia. Once upon a time, they had three locations — downtown, off Nifong Boulevard and down by the river at Cooper’s Landing. Last fall, I called to to put in my weekly order and the phone rang and rang. No one picked up. I drove to the restaurant, and it was vacant. What was I supposed to do? Where was I supposed to get my pad thai? The other Thai joints had to suffice. I didn’t know where Chim’s went.
via Tiny Town Tastes: Chim’s Thai Kitchen in Cooper’s Landing | Food & Drink | Vox Magazine