Written June 29, 2011:
My hotel here in Italy is nestled in a hillside, surrounded by open green pastures. The golden color of the hotel seems to glow as the sun hits it in the morning then when it sets at night. I could imagine myself living there, wandering up the winding dirt road, the smell of dew on the grass piercing my nose, sound of crickets loud and everywhere. The feeling I get when I see the hotel is magical, overwhelms me with feelings.
The rooms are so unlike the ones you would find in America. Four of us were in one tiny room. The big windows open inwards and reveal a beautiful view of the neighboring meadow. The bathroom seems like the size of a storage closet in America. The shower didn't allow a lot of room to lift my arms and there was even a bide. Even though it's not what I am used to, I actually enjoy my room.
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