We have been remiss. We have failed to keep you, our avid readers, up to date on our travels. There you’ve been, logging on faithfully every day without reward, while we indulged in truffles, gelato and Renaissance frescoes ad nauseum, barely thinking of you. This afternoon, though, after a long lunch and a longer nap in Pisa, we awoke with a start, and yelped, “We’re bloggers! Remember?” So in the spirit of making up for lost time, we present a summary of our travels thus far, as reflected in our recent purchases:

1. A lungi, from Dhaka, Bangladesh. This is a tubular garment of ultra-soft cotton worn around the waist by men — generally, it must be noted, with nothing underneath except that which was bequeathed by the Lord. I know what you’re thinking, you narrow-minded westerner — that’s a skirt! But you’re wrong. It is very common in Bangladesh, and in fact is the unofficial uniform of the rickshaw driver, a decidedly masculine sort. These men pedaled us around the streets of Dhaka, Chittagong and Sylhet, the three cities we visited in Bangladesh — streets crammed not just with other rickshaws, but with all manner of other vehicles, from scooters to buses and everything in between, and people of all sizes as well. Traffic rules were largely ignored. Horns were used so liberally as to be rendered meaningless. Small herds of goats sometimes darted in and out of the traffic. Luckily, traffic was light for several of the days we were in Bangladesh as there was a hortal, or nationwide general strike, enforced with spasms of mob violence visited on those who ventured out in motor vehicles. We largely defied it, relying on pseudo-military escorts provided by a well-connected uncle, survived, had way too many dinners at way too may cousin’s homes and jetted off to Calcutta, where we purchased:

2. A sitar. (Editor’s note You may have noticed that all of the purchases thus far are for Alex. This trend will continue throughout the trip.) It was a storefront, really — a tiny shop on an unremarkable street in this most remarkable of cities. The salesman, clad in battered sandals, was in fact the maker, as became clear when he conducted major renovations to address a concern of ours. He did so, seated Indian style, on the dusty floor, using primitive tools like a hand-powered drill. Everything he needed was an arm’s length away, or less. It was rather fascinating to watch him work. It was equally fascinating watching him negotiate the thing through the Dickensian post office. We suspect he brokered a bribe, but we’re not sure; we just paid what seemed like an outrageous sum by Calcutta standards, which was actually very reasonable by U.S. standards, and were pleasantly surprised to hear that the thing has subsequently arrived on Long Island. We would’ve stayed longer in Calcutta had we been able to breathe comfortably there (it’s outrageously polluted) and had every person we encountered in the city aside from the sitar maker not tried to rip us off. But we high-tailed it out of there the next day and jetted off to Rome, where we purchased:

3. Three ties, a sport coat and a pair of sunglasses. It quickly became clear why Italians are so fashionable. Clothes here are cheap and nice. The ties are voluptuous. The sunglasses are like ski goggles. The sports coat came with a faux hoodie zipped in. But if one lingers in Rome too long, one starts to feel guilty about neglecting certain historical and religious-themed attractions deemed by many to be unmissable. We proved them wrong, and headed for Tuscany, where in a small sandwich shop in the countryside we purchased:

4. Several truffles. They were 10 euros. The gentleman behind the counter explained that he had found them that morning and, in response to a quizzical look, pointed to his dog, which stood proudly, ankle-high, behind the refrigerated case. In the absurdly picturesque town of San Gimignano we purchased a truffle shaver, but that’s really an accessory and doesn’t deserve it’s own entry.

This entry, while quite thorough with respect to our purchases, is woefully incomplete with respect to our travels in the larger sense. A sampling of omissions: in Florence, Alex fell in love with Botticelli’s Venus and Toni fell in love with Michelangelo’s David, and a brief crisis ensued, but we calmed down and vowed anew to settle for each other; we bicycled through the Tuscan countryside to the point of exhaustion, which came quite quickly, actually; we have plane tickets to Senegal on Valentine’s Day, but we fear these past two weeks driving across Italy may have stretched our finances to the point of return. We’ll let you know.

From Pisa with love,

Toni and Alex.

P.S.: A word of advice to those who plan to visit the Leaning Tower someday: when they say the tour to the top is best avoided by people with a fear of heights, listen to them. I mean, for God’s sake, the thing is ABOUT TO FALL OVER!!