Yes, I still whip out my camera and have the characteristic tourist stare whilst in the shadows of historic buildings, but let's just pretend for a second that I don't.
For the past 10 days, I've been passing the time with my 2nd-cousin, who has been kind enough to let her foreign, seemingly mute relative tag along with her and her friends. We frequent a little nearby town of Corsico, and...
I think it's lovely.
(although my pictures might not convince you)
We usually hang out at one of several "bars" (which are more like cafés than what an American might think of when they hear bar.), but the other day we passed the time in a cute park.
[I could have watched these little kids playing for hours, and I think that makes me creepy.]
The other night we went out to play billiards at this giant sports complex (soccer, swimming, squash, bowling, pool, you name it)
...and afterward we went back to Corsico to pay a visit to a local bakery. On the car ride over they were telling me how fabulous it was, so you can understand my confusion when we pulled into a dark, damp parking lot, surrounded by graffiti-covered walls, upon which dark characters leaned for a smoke. The entrance consisted of thick strips of hanging plastic, which didn't (or did?) add to the ambiance.
Nonetheless, through the door I walked, and aren't I glad, for the aroma of freshly baked goods that forthwith stirred my olfactory nerves was magnificent. [Pizza, focaccia, and brioche, oh my!]
We revisited it later, during the day. Here are some pics of the exterior, in daylight:
[Just be glad that my cousin's boyfriend–trying to force my cousin
to eat a doughnut–was blocking the rest of that blue graffiti man...]
Can't believe it took me this long to eat my first cannolo!
[In other news, who else knew that cannoli is actually pural for cannolo?!]