Amidst the verdant Tuscan hills, our adventure started.
Actually, it started just a few hours before that in the Frankfurt Hahn airport where I asked Phil if he could eat every last bite of a large dutyfree Toblerone on the flight to Italy. He said he could. So, being the juveniles that we are, I bought one for him and made it an official dare. Here’s that champ now – too overzealous to even unwrap the chocolate and honey happiness.
Pisa:
Finally, Tuscany. We landed in Pisa saddened by the fact that Phil only finished half the Toblerone because he didn’t want to go into diabetic shock on the plane. I thought that would have been fun to watch. He did not.
Once on terra firma, we wasted no time getting to our ultimate destination. Seeing this guy.
Oh that’s me, brightening the day by being the butt of an embarrassing butt joke. I was posing like a kitty because I wanted Keyvan to angle the camera so the Tower appeared to be lodged straight in my bum. (Did I already use the word juvenile?) The funny part (not to me of course) was that Keyvan always “almost had it,” forcing me to hold that pose for the better part of five minutes while locals and tourists alike walked slowly by and actually started to gather in a semicircle to watch I believe.
The sun also brightened the day and made it easy to see that Keyvan was actually, creatively, amazingly supporting the Leaning Tower with nothing but his head. What a guy.
Florence:
A short train ride and a few Toblerone pieces later we were in the most beautiful of Italian renaissance cities. The city had some of the world’s most famous art, architecture, gelato, and piazzas. 
It also had what seemed to us an exceeding amount of gallantry and class. Too bad we didn’t have any.
Here’s me with a neo-Nazi haircut the barber thought I asked for.
Here’s Keyvan scratching an itch Mona Lisa had. I'm apparently smiling at Keyvan's elbow.
And here’s Phil doing god knows what inappropriateness to this perfectly harmless and helpless hunka mozzarella.
To further display our lack of class, we became best friends with a trashcan. 
And brought a bottle of vodka with us everywhere we went.
Luckily, we were able to regain some refinement by eating at one of the best and most famous restaurants in the city: Il Latini: A place where Phil ate so much he hasd to go to bed at 8 p.m.
Rome:
Our adventure that seemed to more and more revolve around Phil eating things took us to Rome, a place rich in culture and history but downright ghetto-welfare in terms of food. It was so bad, in fact, that Keyvan had some sort of violent, shuddering convulsion in front of almost every monument in the city.
One saving grace was the gelato, which gave us a violent shuddering and altogether pleasant convulsion of a different type. Multiple times. Oh
We saw all the traditional sights and I’ll save you the time of my proving it. Instead, here are more pictures of Keyvan losing it.
Actually, it started just a few hours before that in the Frankfurt Hahn airport where I asked Phil if he could eat every last bite of a large dutyfree Toblerone on the flight to Italy. He said he could. So, being the juveniles that we are, I bought one for him and made it an official dare. Here’s that champ now – too overzealous to even unwrap the chocolate and honey happiness.
Pisa:Finally, Tuscany. We landed in Pisa saddened by the fact that Phil only finished half the Toblerone because he didn’t want to go into diabetic shock on the plane. I thought that would have been fun to watch. He did not.
Once on terra firma, we wasted no time getting to our ultimate destination. Seeing this guy.
Oh that’s me, brightening the day by being the butt of an embarrassing butt joke. I was posing like a kitty because I wanted Keyvan to angle the camera so the Tower appeared to be lodged straight in my bum. (Did I already use the word juvenile?) The funny part (not to me of course) was that Keyvan always “almost had it,” forcing me to hold that pose for the better part of five minutes while locals and tourists alike walked slowly by and actually started to gather in a semicircle to watch I believe.The sun also brightened the day and made it easy to see that Keyvan was actually, creatively, amazingly supporting the Leaning Tower with nothing but his head. What a guy.
Florence:A short train ride and a few Toblerone pieces later we were in the most beautiful of Italian renaissance cities. The city had some of the world’s most famous art, architecture, gelato, and piazzas. It also had what seemed to us an exceeding amount of gallantry and class. Too bad we didn’t have any.Here’s me with a neo-Nazi haircut the barber thought I asked for.Here’s Keyvan scratching an itch Mona Lisa had. I'm apparently smiling at Keyvan's elbow.And here’s Phil doing god knows what inappropriateness to this perfectly harmless and helpless hunka mozzarella.To further display our lack of class, we became best friends with a trashcan. And brought a bottle of vodka with us everywhere we went.Luckily, we were able to regain some refinement by eating at one of the best and most famous restaurants in the city: Il Latini: A place where Phil ate so much he hasd to go to bed at 8 p.m.Rome:Our adventure that seemed to more and more revolve around Phil eating things took us to Rome, a place rich in culture and history but downright ghetto-welfare in terms of food. It was so bad, in fact, that Keyvan had some sort of violent, shuddering convulsion in front of almost every monument in the city.
One saving grace was the gelato, which gave us a violent shuddering and altogether pleasant convulsion of a different type. Multiple times. OhWe saw all the traditional sights and I’ll save you the time of my proving it. Instead, here are more pictures of Keyvan losing it.
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