T A B L E_T A L K Travel by foot: Is it the best way to see a place? Tell of your adventures hoofin' it in Table Talk R E C E N T L Y Soba, so good By Koji Yoshii Savoring Nagano's specialty food (02/05/98) The big steamy? By Courtney Weaver Searching for sex in New Orleans (02/04/98) Fear, drugs, and soccer in Asia By Karl Taro Greenfeld Hedonistic expats: Fear, drugs and soccer in Asia (02/02/98) I got it online, part 2 By Jenn Shreve Comparing the pros and cons of four Internet travel services (02/02/98) I got it online, part 1 By Jenn Shreve There really are advantages to making your travel plans on the Web (01/30/98) Your virtual travel agency - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Browse the Mondo Weirdo archives - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -		- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - LONELY AND SICK AND FAR FROM HOME, I LEARNED THE POWER OF ART, VELVET SLIPPERS AND HUMAN KINDNESS. BY SARAH SCHMELLING | After four trains and a wrong turn in Florence, I was in Siena, Italy, carrying too much luggage and struggling for words I didn't know. It was November 1996, and I was going by myself to a city with tones so unusually rich, a color is named for it. The family I was to stay with, a relatively elderly mother and her twice-my-age son, didn't speak a word of English and weren't expected to. I was the one who was supposed to learn a language; I was to go to Italian class three hours a day for the next month. But the day I got there, all I knew was "Non parlo italiano," and I said it all the time. The family was short with me at first, and I understood enough to figure out the words for "that's the thing with Americans, they don't know how to speak." But it would be they who would teach me most of the Italian I learned there -- and a few added lessons along the way. I went to Siena for a few good reasons. I left Chicago for a million more. I had just quit a job to go to graduate school, and the people there resented me for it. I had just quit a boyfriend. And I had quit an apartment where the landlord was a little too friendly. I was tired of quitting things; I was ready for big, shining starts. I picked Italy for its art, and Siena was full of it. It was just so old. The town hall was built in the 12th century, and all the other buildings weren't much younger. Streets arched over each other in narrow brick streams, and a thick high wall circled the town as if the whole thing had been thrown like a discus into the Tuscan hills. The Duomo was made of ancient striped marble, and St. Catherine's skull was in a church named for her, where it's been for 600 years. Everything was medieval and preserved, and nothing was like where I came from. N E X T+P A G E | Everyone calls you beautiful