I forgot to relay...

We drove out of Nafplio early morning, and were winding through some hills during the sunrise. Unreal. It was hard to not stare at the sun, which you shouldn’t do, but I had to keep looking away. It was massive and orange and spectacular. Like Impression Sunrise meets National Geographic.

I have seen countless vendors, street-artists, and dumb tourist gimmicks, but this one got me:

HOW DO THEY DO IT? Michelle pointed out a small crane thing in the bottom man’s shirt, “or the second option is, of course, magic.”

The boy at the Gellateria Naturala was quite nice. He worked at the gelato shop until 8 every evening, so we had a few run-ins. Rather, I ran in a few times. Anyway, in classic Italian style he winked and blahblahblah. So on our last day in Rome Michelle and I grabbed some vegan gelato and said goodbye to the gelato boy. Walking back to our hotel:

“What if I married him? Just went back and took him to say our nuptials and in the morning we would get an annulment and head to Florence.”
“You should definitely elope.”
“Yeah! On the last day of February, the first time in over 600 years the Pope resigns, I fulfill my creepy high school fantasy of a dramatic marriage.”
“What if you got pregnant on your wedding night?”
“Ohmygod our child would be beautiful—I’d have a son. My son would be bilingual-“
“Your son would have curly hair!”
“Where would I raise him? My father-in-law wouldn’t approve, I know it.”
“Man you just got married, divorced, had a kid and considered moving to Italy.”
“…and I don’t even know my ex-husband’s name.”

Goodbye, Gelato Boy.