Anyway, while I’m sitting alone in my room without her comforting two-room-away presence, I figured I had better put my lazy time to good use and update this thing that I’m attempting to pass for a blog. And so here is Chapter 1 of the long-anticipated lengthy detailed Italy trip entry.
I started out my journey at 7am, headed to the tube station with my £12 carry on suitcase (compliments of Primark) and backpack and purse, and made my way (with the help of several people who pointed me in the right direction) to the Victoria Coach Station, where I was able to get on the 8:35 National Express coach to Stansted Airport, where Air Force One would be landing later that day to deliver Barack Obama to the G20 Summit that was occurring in London that week. I checked in, checked my bag, and waited in line for security, who had to search my precisely packed backpack because my makeup set off the liquid sensors. Somewhere along the way I started talking to the grungy Irish guy in line behind me, who turned out to be a history PhD. on his way to a conference, and the smell of alcohol that permeated the air around him was explained when he told me he had haphazardly packed earlier that morning when he was still drunk from the night before. Having nothing better to do, I helped him find more whiskey in the Duty Free shop and he helped me find an Italian phrase book at the airport Waterstone’s, but when he invited me to have some tea with him, or should I say assumed I would have tea with him, before our flights left, I drew the line and insisted that I should really be heading to my gate since Ryanair flights queue early and I liked the window seat.
When I got to the Ryanair section of the terminal there was an employee checking carryon luggage. I stopped and proceeded to take 10 minutes to rearrange the contents of my backpack so that my purse would fit inside, thus abiding by their one-carryon-only rule, but as groups of people started walking by with suitcases, backpacks, purses, and shopping bags with only weak protestation from him I realized that he wasn’t really checking. As soon as I got to the gate I unpacked the contents of my purse and my purse itself from my backpack and waited for the flight to board. Despite being one of the first ones there I was one of the last to get on the plane, but the flight wasn’t full, so I ended up sitting on an aisle with one empty seat between me and a clearly Italian man sitting by the window. We didn’t say much to each other, and beyond the initial “Hi I’m sharing this row with you whether you like it or not” smile and the “Oh jeez there is a four-month-old two rows in front of us” grimace, we didn’t communicate at all for most of the flight. I intermittently studied my new phrase book and mouthed “Vorrei un biglietto di andate per Firenze,” fell asleep, and listened to music, and he was intermittently engrossed in a book titled “Degustations” and the view, but when we began our descent we started to make small talk. He probably between 29 and 32, and was wearing leather shoes, tight dark jeans and a black turtleneck, his hair was spiked Guido-style and his right eyebrow sported a piercing. It turned out he was a sommelier at the Ritz Hotel in London, originally from Italy, on his way to a wine-tasting conference in Verona. Impressed, I shook his hand and introduced myself, and we chatted about London and Italy, the conversation lightly skimming our separate pasts and futures that somehow connected in the present. Afterwe landed, I went to collect my checked bag and we parted – his name was Fabrizio Panchetti, and I was going to find him on Facebook, and maybe we could get together for a drink in London when I got back from my spring break trip.
Overwhelmed by the new country and essentially being asked out at an airport twice in one day I made a frantic call to Johanna before opting to take the Terravision bus instead of the Trenitalia (not to be confused with genitalia) train and I finally completed my journey to Florence.
Johanna was standing there with a sign (of course) when I got off the bus, and we screamed and hugged and then started walking toward Via Pronscola 9, their flat, which was literally right next to the Duomo.
I dropped my stuff off at the house and freshened up a bit before heading to their school, Lorenzo de Medici, where I was accompanying Johanna to her Italian class. I had a tomato-basil-mozzarella panini beforehand, since I was starving from my long travels, and I learned from Johanna that in Italy, if you get food in a cafe, you sit and eat it first, taking your time,and then you pay after. It is also insulting to tip them. I could get used to that. I saw Dana briefly before the class started, because she was going to her Tuesday night wine-tasting class. Beginner Italian was fun and it was especially interesting to learn a little bit with the knowledge I had from French and my Italian phrase book, but also from my linguistics class this semester, Word and Sentence Structure. Being able to pick out patterns in a language really speeds up the process of learning it, and since most of the vowels are pronounced phonetically, rather than silently as in French or unphonetically as in English, I definitely think it is a language that I could grasp. After the class, we went back to their flat and had some dinner – pasta with a sauce made out of vegetables that were essentially stewed together with some garlic, herbs, and olive oil. We had some fresh bread as well as some wine in an attempt to catch up with Dana (who was quite happy as she apparently is every Tuesday night after her class) and overall the meal was delicious and I was stuffed. After sitting around the table and chatting with their flatmates and friends, we went to get some gelato. In fact, every subsequent day I spent in Italy save one I had a piccolo cuppa or a piccolo cone of gelato. At only 2 Euro it was both addicting and delicious and I tried out many flavors before I left, including Tiramisu, Pannacotta, Fragola (strawberry), Cherry, Hazelnut, Nutella, Coconut, Mixed Berry, Dark Chocolate Orange, Lemon, and Stracchiatella (chocolate chip). Mmm calories.
The next day I went to the market with Dana. We walked around the stalls selling leather and scarves and jewelry and souvenirs, and then we made our way to the indoor fresh market, where we picked out fresh bread, salami, mozzarella, and tomato to make sandwiches for lunch. Then there was a two hour block where both Dana and Johanna were in class, so Dana left me in line for the Accademia, the museum where Michaelangelo’s David is housed. The queue was pretty long but I had two hours to kill, so I waited. And waited. And moved a few feet. And waited. I had moved about halfway through the line in the hour and a half that I waited, and after that I gave up. I wandered around the Duomo and found my way back to their flat, and after I let myself in with Dana’s keys I took a little nap, still exhausted from my travelling the day before. When they got back from class, we all had lunch, and then they showed me around Florence a little. We got gelato (of course) and went to the leather market, and then Dana had to go to another class. Johanna brought me to the Ponte Vecchio, a bridge crossing the Arno River that’s lined with little shops hanging off of the sides of it.
It is so picturesque and very pretty. We walked around the river for a while and I was amazed at all of the yellow buildings – in Paris, every building was pretty much made out of the same stone, and they were all white, and in Florence, they are all yellow with red roofs.
We walked back to the Duomo but it was closed for the day so I couldn’t peek inside, and then Johanna had class and Dana got out of hers. I got an iced coffee and Dana and I walked around the market again, where I bought myself a scarf that I proceeded to wear every remaining day I was in Italy. One of the girls from Pronscola 9 had her parents visiting, and they came over to make dinner for us – mini pizzas. Little saucers of fried pizza dough + homemade tomato sauce = yummO. That night Johanna and Dana took me to a nearby bar (which turned out to be London themed!) and we caught up over some sangria.
We then went to another bar that had a dance floor, and were there for less than 10 minutes when we decided it wasn’t really happening. Johanna and Dana had brought their umbrellas because it was raining outside, but when we went to leave the bar the umbrellas were gone! After searching the bar and questioning innocent civilians with similarly colored umbrellas standing outside, we gave up and embraced the raindrops streaming from the sky on our way to the secret bakery. Sadly I don’t have any pictures from it, but the secret bakery is a bakery that illegally stays open for business for 24 hours. After closing time, while the staff inside is busily preparing the next day’s pastries, the hidden back door is unlocked and those in the know can venture inside and get the previous day’s giant scrumptious sweets for 1 Euro each. I had something that Johanna referred to as a “crema” but all I know is that it was a sticky sweet flattened croissant. Mmm. After we finished licking our fingers we snuck back out the door marked “Shhh... Please be Quiet” and headed back home in the rain, passing the bars we had been to on the way. We were lamenting the loss of our umbrellas when I spotted a rose salesman walking toward us who looked slightly ridiculous with his unmistakably feminine teal, brown, and white polka dotted umbrella. I alerted the other two and we marched forward angrily. Johanna went right up to him, seized the umbrella handle and informed him: “Excuse me, THIS is OURS!” He knew he was in trouble because he let Dana’s umbrella go immediately and started hurrying away, with Johanna incredulously reprimanding him from behind: “Why did you take it?!” We never found Johanna’s umbrella, but we were all pleased to share Dana’s on the way home, and we collapsed into hysterics every time we replayed the encounter in our heads.
On Thursday morning Dana and Johanna took me across the river to the Pitti Palace, where the Medicis used to live. I paid an ungodly 10 Euro to gain entrance to the Boboli Gardens surrounding the palace, but they were enormous and breathtaking so I guess I got my money’s worth.
We had nice views of the city of Florence and it was a lovely warm day – I was actually sweating! We also saw the costume museum where they showcased the actual clothing that members of the Medici family were buried in. Weird. When we were done walking around we walked along the street in front of the Pitti Palace and found a cute little nameless cafe to get lunch from. The lady was super nice and I got a pepperoni (which in Italy is “spicy salami”), tomato, and arugula panini drizzled with a little olive oil. We went and ate our sandwiches on the pavement in front of the palace and just enjoyed the sunshine. Dana had class and Johanna and I were going to go to the train station to pick up Flor when her bus arrived, so we got some gelato from the same cafe and ate it on the Ponte Vecchio before it was time to go. We waited for what seemed like forever next to the bus stop at the train station and finally Flor arrived in Florence!
We were her quintessentially crazy friends Рme with my camera and Johanna with her sign, and both of us jumping up and down and waving Рand it was wonderful to be reunited again! We brought Flor to Pronscola 9 and she settled in, and after Dana got back we all went out to dinner at their favorite pizza place, Gusta Pizza. The pizza they served there was similar to Pizza Express, but it tasted absolutely incredible because everything was made fresh right in front of us, including the dough! They only had 5 or 6 choices of pizza and they were only 5 or 6 Euro each. We sat on chairs pulled up to glass-table-top-covered barrels, and I really enjoyed my margherita pizza. Since Johanna and Dana are regulars, they had heard that the chefs there also made a special dessert pizza Рa pizza dough topped with nutella and sprinkled with powdered sugar. It was a great end to the meal, and when we went up to pay, he gave us the dessert pizza for free! Molto grazie!! On the way back home, we stopped at a liquor store that Dana had found, and bought some peach vodka for the following night when we were going out to a discoth̬que. The owner gave us a free bottle of white wine with our purchase, and as we were walking out, he also gave us free lollipops! It was a night of freebies! It had been a long day full of excitement and good food and friendship and I was exhausted. We headed back to Pronscola 9 for the night and fell asleep.
I think I’ll close this chapter of my Italy story for now. I still have to talk about Friday-Sunday in Florence and Sunday-Tuesday in Rome, not to mention the rest of my month of April and now the first two weeks of May... but I am also getting tired and I hope to write more in the morning.
Bueno notte.
Love, Amanda
I think I’ll close this chapter of my Italy story for now. I still have to talk about Friday-Sunday in Florence and Sunday-Tuesday in Rome, not to mention the rest of my month of April and now the first two weeks of May... but I am also getting tired and I hope to write more in the morning.
Bueno notte.
Love, Amanda
