Mercato San Ambrogia and the shortest lady I've ever seen

As the days pass by and I have begun to realize how little time I actually have left here I don't want to leave. (I will leave though, Dad; I miss you way too much to stay.) This has been the most incredible experience of my life thus far - hands down.

Actually one of the things I will probably miss most is having mornings exactly like this morning:

I don't have class on Tuesdays, so I slept in a bit and then got up and headed to my favorite cafè where I had a capuccino and a paste con cioccolato and wrote in my journal and read my Bible. Just so you know, for future reference, this is practically (a word my bookbinding teacher can't get enough of - and which, when she uses it, means precisely) the best way to begin a day. My favorite cafè is just 10 or so meters from the San Ambrogia market where you can buy fresh veggies and clothing articles and housewares and, if your brave, a whole dead and skinned rabbit, head and all. I didn't get a rabbit, as I'm not brave when it comes to dead creatures, but I did get some veggies and such to make dinner this evening. I browsed around the market, attempting to listen in on conversations, and then strolled down the road a bit to Bacco di Nudo, the enoteca where I get my wine, except next door they have another store that doesn't sell wine, but jams and pasta sauces and olive oil. Here is where the shortest woman in the world works. I'm not even lying. So, I walked in (actually I've met her before, but I didn't realize it then) and she gets up from her chair behind the counter and comes over to me to tell me (for she speaks English very well) about every single sauce and jelly in the store, and no joke, she comes up to my waist. She was short. Very short. She went on and on and on about each and everyone of those "prodotti tipici" that I though I would never get out of there, but I did by this Balsamic vinegar cream that she said to try in yogurt. I plan to do that this evening if I make it to the supermercato or if the bakery I usually go to sells yogurt. I'll let you know how it tastes, but the cream is spectacular. I had it on some bread for lunch.

Allora, sorry to bore you with the everyday happenings of my Tuesday morning, but I felt the need for a post and well, this is the real Italian life, not all that other travel stuff. This is the kind of thing that makes me want to stay.