So, this morning, I’m sitting on the rocks, by the water, in this adorable purple bikini, when this Italian man approaches me. I see him out of the corner of my eye and he looks familiar. Lana! That means wool in Italian, and I don’t know why it is his nickname, but it is. He’s not the gorgeous Italian you might imagine, but he’s handsomer than I thought and he is a trained cook in a pizzeria and a pastry chef. Che bravissimo. Can you imagine being married to someone like that? I’d be so fat. And happy. Fat and happy! So I know him off of Facebook. He’s friends with a friend of mine who lived here last summer. She connected us so that I would know someone in the area. He lives in Le Grazie, which is the city next to Florence.

We spoke solely in Italian because he doesn’t speak English. I didn’t mind, since it gave me a chance to practice my Italian. He said that he waited all day Saturday on the beach for me, but never saw me. He then said he had been looking for me all day today. We talked a little and he took my phone number before jetting off to work. He seems really nice, but he also seems like he’s really trying to pursue something romantic and I’m not interested. The more I see the men around here, the more I realize how handsome Filippo truly is. I can’t wait to see him!!! Ah, I really can’t wait!

Anyways, Lana wants to take me out on his boat next Monday because he doesn’t work Mondays. He was trying to figure out our schedules and he was counting how many hours he needed for this boat ride. He counted 6 hours! What exactly will we be doing? And where exactly are we going? I’m probably too trustworthy, but I’ve never had a bad experience with an Italian and I can judge people very well. That doesn’t mean I recommend everyone take such chances.

Tonight is the group dinner. I’m opting for a dark brown dress, that feels Grecian inspired to me. It goes well with the scenery and it’s dressy without overdoing it.

Here’s an interesting tidbit: I walked around today without my sunglasses on and got more attention than ever from the locals and tourists. Then I remembered my friend Eugenio who advertised for clubs on the streets of Firenze. He would always take my sunglasses off and ask why I hid my “beautiful eyes.” So sweet, right? Maybe eyes are really important to Italians. They don’t want to flirt with you unless they know you have two eyes. I wonder if any of them think I’m Italian. I really want them to ask me so I can at least tell them I am Italian by heritage! Maybe they’ll treat me even better! Don’t get me started on how embarrassing most of the American students I’m with are….SO embarrassing. Where’s the fashion? C’mon Americans. Please. Just try.