After a long (rerouted) flight, some lost luggage, and a long drive from Milano, we arrived in Siena yesterday. Immediately, I understood why Italians love this city. Unlike many tourist towns, Siena feels lived in. If you leave il Campo and il Duomo, you quickly fall into neighborhood life.

Siena is a city of neighborhoods.  In most Italian cities, people will describe their identity in this order:

1. City (I am Milanese.)
2. Province (I happen to live in Lombardia.)
3. Country (Lombardia happens to be in Italy.)

Here, in Siena, neighborhoods rule.  You are born into a neighborhood.  Sienese babies are baptized twice: once by the Church and once by the contrada.  Even if you move to another neighborhood, you cannot change your contrada affiliation.

This week, we live in la Contrada della Selva.  Selva happens to be in Siena.  Selva also won the 2015 Palio, so we’re pretty badass.

This trip, we’re almost entirely AirBnB’ing.  Our first apartment is amazing.  Not only are we in a cool, Palio-winning neighborhood (a block from il Duomo and two from il Campo), but it is gigantic and beautifully equipped.  (I’ll take pictures and the link to AirBnB later.)

Today, we explored our neighborhood and city. We hiked the steep hills of Selva and the other contrade of Siena.

We romped and breakfasted on il Campo.

We admired il Duomo.

 

 

We shopped while il Bambino napped.  Gelato and spritzes were purchased.

We made gnocchi in our kitchen.

We also secretly relished the fact that there was a winter weather advisory at home.  It was in the 70’s (F) here. It was a wonderful and exuberant day.  Tomorrow, Montepulciano is on our list.

Buena Notte.

 

Over a decade ago, I was fortunate to study at the Université Libre de Bruxelles.  For a good part of a summer, Brussels was my home.

I lived in an awesomely crappy apartment.  I spent too many nights exploring Belgian beer culture. Almost every morning, I would stop at Boulangerie Stubbe, on the way to class, to pick up a baguette or croissant. I stopped feeling like a tourist, and I started living. And, I used Brussels’ train stations to explore the rest of Belgium and the continent. I will be forever grateful for my time there.

My first European home was attacked today.  I know that airport and that station.  This one hit closer to my heart than Boston or Paris.  I’ve been to both those places, but I can’t truly claim them as my own.  Today’s attacks brought tears to my eyes.

(Note:  I initially mentioned New York too, but that was an overstatement.  I’ll never forget where I was on 9/11, and how I felt that day.  I hope I never experience that again.)

Today was also the first time that I registered a trip with the State Department, through the STEP program. But, I want to make it clear.  I am not afraid.  I refuse to be afraid.

Terrorists, no matter their affiliation, want to keep us apart.  The thing I learned in Brussels, more than anything, was that when people travel, we change for the better.  My world view was challenged.  I discovered that I was braver and more capable than I imagined.  I gained perspective.

Stereotypes and fear are easy to believe if you stay in your backyard.  More than ever, we need to reach out to each other.  We need to be global citizens.

Pack that bag.  Ask questions. Learn.

Let’s not let them win.