The Tower of Bolog Na

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At last we reached the top, where we found a group of French schoolgirls lounging about and sketching one another, as well as the most spectacular view I have seen in my life. I'm ashamed to say it was like something straight out of Assassin's Creed: red rooftops spanning endlessly to the horizon, occasionally interrupted by church towers jutting toward the heavens and large streets trafficing in buses and mopeds. On the southwest side, the city gave way to rising green hills, upon which stood ancient temples, bordered from above by a heavenly golden sky. This was the Italy I had always imagined.

I perched in the windows and soaked in the view for a good hour, my face invariably warmed by the sun and cooled by the wind, bothered only by Brent's childish nagging. Apparently, his capacity for the experience of beauty is limited to the checking off of items on an itemized list. What a penis pump!

Speaking of penis pumps, Italian trains have considerable trouble running on time.