In the early hours of morning before the sun peaks out from the horizon, the aroma of fresh bread baking wafts up to the third floor and into my room at the Palace Hotel in Senigallia, Italy.  I check my watch, and discover it’s nearly three hours before the alarm will begin its incessant chirping.  

I layer myself up in running paraphernalia and tiptoe out of the small room, trying my best to not wake my roommate.  As I creep down the carpet-lined stairs, avoiding the small, shaky eleva...

I smell the sweet sent of roasted almonds drifting from the nearby park as I crane my neck to look up at the vibrantly painted onion domes of the Church of Our Savior on Spilt Blood.  Our cast has lovingly named it “the Ice Cream Palace” and although I’ve stopped by at least once everyday since we arrived in Saint Petersburg, I’m no less awed by its stunning façade.  

A couple dressed in 17^th century clothing poses for photographs with tourists near the exit of the church (for a ...