[vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]“Toscana is a ‘fitness country,’” said my host mom as I dragged myself, panting, up the mountainous flight of stairs to her apartment. “You don’t say…” I huffed before collapsing on the couch. I’ve been in Tuscany for the last five weeks and have walked nearly 26,000 steps a day. My fitbit broke the second week (thanks to an impromptu dive into the ocean — #firstworldprobs) but my stepping hasn’t faltered for a moment. All this exercise could probably do wonders for my overall health if it weren’t for the incredible three course meals I have daily, but hey, you can’t have your cake and eat it too. Actually, I’m always down for more cake. And so are the Italians.
Maybe if I stopped taking the offered second (and sometimes third) helpings of dessert, all the trouble of just getting around wouldn’t be so exhausting, but I’m not ready to make that sacrifice quite yet. However, there have been times I really didn’t think I was going to make it. Huffing and puffing, thighs and calves burning, stumbling my way up the endless steps to see sights does not an ideal experience make, but I’ve seen some pretty incredible things nonetheless.
My first weekend in Italy, we visited Florence and climbed the 400 some odd steps to the top of the tower of the Duomo. It was crowded, cramped and claustrophobic to say the least but the views were worth it. Or so we thought, until we followed a crowd to a different line for a mysterious exhibit and ended up in a small stairway climbing another 400 steps to the top of the largest masonry dome ever built.
I guess I have Filippo Brunelleschi to thank for my new smoking hot thighs because that was one of the hardest climbs I’ve ever experienced, made even more difficult by my clumsy nature. I was so tired on the way down I didn’t even care when I slipped and fell backwards onto my (thankfully) large backpack. The Italian couple in front of me panicked and rushed to make sure I was okay while my own classmates laughed uncontrollably. All I could think while sweating on those steps was, “I’m so glad I’m not on my feet right now.”
But I did it.
And I’ve done it countless times since. I’ve climbed up and down the four flights of stairs to my classroom every day of the week. I’ve climbed to the top of the tower in Piazza Del Campo in Siena and seen my city in its entirety. I climbed 10 flights of stairs at least twice a day for 3 days when I stayed in an apartment in Paris. I dragged myself up to the top of the Arc de Triomphe and had my breath taken away. (Literally. I couldn’t breathe. So many stairs.) And I now live on the sixth floor of an apartment overlooking Genova and I climb up and down those steps every single day.
There’s a trick to being able to handle the insanity of ancient ruins being used as regular living spaces and it’s shockingly applicable to daily life: Forget the amount of stairs you’re climbing, don’t worry about what floor you’re on, put your head down, breathe and just take it one step at a time. In the end, it’s worth it.
@katherinekellis[/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column width=”1/1″][vc_empty_space height=”32px”][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column width=”1/1″][vc_facebook type=”standard”][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column width=”1/1″][vc_tweetmeme type=”horizontal”][/vc_column][/vc_row]