We got up super early this morning, at like 4:45, so that we could hop on a bus and go to the airport to catch our flight into Florence. The problem was that even with getting up early, we couldn’t get to the airport because our bus didn’t show up. We ended up taking four taxis so that we could catch our flight on time. It was especially urgent because only one flight goes out of Cagliari to Florence per day and we wouldn’t be able to see the city if we didn’t make it.
After the one hour flight where I sat between two older businessmen, we checked in Hotel Albion and dispersed into the city. Pam, Chelsea, Becky, and I headed to an underground mall that while similar to the one in Montreal, was actually really ghetto. I didn’t find anything in the mall to buy, so we continued on toward the San Lorenzo market. The stalls were really a repetition of each other, but I managed to find a cute dress, a magnet, a postcard, a jacket, and some cigarettes for Daniel. I wish I could have bought the absinthe that I saw, but I wasn’t sure who I would drink it with and I can’t exactly take it back to the U.S.
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| The river that runs through Florence |
We stopped for lunch near the side of the market at a restaurant called Za-Za. I ordered the chicken breast and was really surprised by how bland it tasted once it arrived. I also had some potatoes with it. I’ve been craving chicken because of the lack of it since we got here, but the meal definitely did not quench the craving. If anything, it only made it worse because I wanted something that tasted good. The meal was outrageous too and had a 2.50 euro cover charge per person. I swear, the system with which they charge for food in Europe is so unusual.
After lunch, Pam bought a postcard and in our effort to find a post office for her to mail it from, we ended up stumbling upon the Duomi and taking pictures of it. None of us wanted to wait in line to go inside, so we turned back because Pam had lost her postcard by then. We headed back to the hotel so that Becky could unpack her suitcase and Pam could take a nap. Chelsea and I grabbed some delicious gelato along the way and I actually got a really good waffle cone. The man who worked in the shop was really nice too. We made conversation about Jeni’s.
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| The Duomi doesn't even look real |
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| The bathtubs they have all over Florence |
While we were hanging out in the hotel, I looked around on the internet for some clubs that we could go to. Florence has a club that actually sounded really cool, with five floors and different music on each one. It had an outrageous cover charge of twenty euros though, so I decided it wasn’t going to happen. A lot of the other clubs had similar cover charges or weren’t open on Mondays. In fact, only one was free and it was pretty far from our hotel. Monday is such an awkward clubbing night.
We tried to go to the Boboli Gardens after everyone woke up, but the gardens closed at 6:30 and no one wanted to walk all the way there. I tried to find us a bus route, but we had trouble. We ended up going back to the hotel for a little while before we got bored and decided to wander around.
Pam, Chelsea, and I walked along the river, which was feasible once the sun went down a little bit. We took a lot of pictures and walked along the quaint Italian streets. Florence really didn’t feel like home though. We found a market and bought some fruit and Barcadi Breezers then walked down the street drinking them until we found a cheap café for dinner. We all ordered sandwiches and ate them out on the patio before going back for desert. We were charged extra because we ate at the restaurant. I’ll never understand all of the hidden charges.
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| The expensive gelato in the center of Florence - 15 euros for a waffle cone! |
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| Dinner of sandwiches |
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| A bridge in Florence |
After dinner, we wandered the streets of Florence in search of Absinthe, but it sounds like most of the stores that sell hard liquor close at 7PM. It was pretty much a wild goose chase from going where one person told us to where the next person said we would be able to find it. We ended up at some African picnic/dance party that may or may not have been political in orientation. I didn’t really feel like dancing and none of the guys were cute, so I didn’t really want to stay. But I did because Pam and Chelsea were having a good time dancing with the guys.
When it was time to go, Pam suggested that we take a picture with all of the guys that we had been dancing with. They had been teaching us moves and Pam and Chelsea had been sharing theirs, so a sort of camaraderie was formed. They didn’t speak English very well though, so it was difficult getting them into a picture formation. One guy kept doing weird hand signals too, but he would wait right until the guy was taking the picture to do them, so we couldn’t stop it.
Once the pictures were over, we went to leave and Pam noticed that nearly ninety euros were missing from the front pocket of her shirt. She immediately asked who had taken it, but obviously, no one confessed. We looked at the pictures that had just been taken and you could clearly see a guy reaching toward the same pocket the money was in. Everyone in the picture, his friends included, started blaming this guy and Pam got into an argument with him. A bunch of other people who had been sitting under some of the tents set up for the party came over to see what the commotion was. They also started arguing that Pam probably lost the money and there’s no way one of the guys took it because he’s one of them, one of the “hardworking people”. It all pretty much sounded like bullshit but we didn’t know what to do. Pam was really flustered and me and Chelsea were just standing on the sidelines, upset.
The guy that Pam accused gave her twenty euros and another guy came over and kept saying that we should be friendly and was trying to keep the peace while saying that Pam was wrong. Another girl came over and started arguing that no one was at fault, that they were just trying to have fun and we shouldn’t bring bad vibes into their party. She seemed kind of drunk while she was arguing, but she knew both English and Italian, so it made the most sense to pay attention to what she was saying. She gave Pam another thirty-five euros in an attempt to get us to stop worrying about the money.
We were still trying to figure out what to do. It sort of seemed like Pam wanted to report the theft and I had seen a few police cars drive by before everything happened, so I started to walk out to the street near the plaza to see if I could find another. Just as I started walking, one drove by. I ran over to the car with my hand in the air, trying to get their attention. The woman who spoke both English and Italian realized what I was doing and started charging after me with a beer bottle in her hand. Apparently, it was quite the sight.
I managed to get the police’s attention though and they parked their car nearby. One of the officers only spoke Italian though and the woman started into her side of the story in fast Italian before I even had the chance to explain what was happening. She put her beer bottle down on the ground while she was having the conversation with them.
Once the other officer walked over, I was able to tell them what happened, but I have no way of knowing what she said to them. Essentially the officer just kept repeating that we needed to be “friendly, friendly.” He said there was really nothing we could do except go to the police station and file a report in the morning, and even then, he didn’t really see what that would do since we’re just tourists. Pam was freaking out because she didn’t have her passport on her and she was afraid that they would ask her for it if she filed a report, but I tried to calm her down while conversing with the officer. The whole time my legs were shaking. I hate talking to figures of authority.
It was ridiculous though because it was like he looked down on us because we weren’t citizens and felt no need to help us whatsoever. I never realized foreign police were so rude. As much as I hate the local police and all that I’ve been through with the law, this has made me respect the way they enforce things in America a little bit more. On top of the lack of help, the officer proceeded to lecture me about trying to get their attention. He said that running after a police car and calling for help are things that you only do if someone is getting hurt or killed. He made it sound like their job was basically to drive around writing tickets and preventing murders. I wanted to fight back against the lecture, but I just tried to thank him for his assistance with the smallest amount of sarcasm possible before walking away. I needed to leave to control my temper. I can’t stand when people are rude and unhelpful.
We spent the walk back to the hotel trying to calm Pam down and figure out where we were. We were actually pretty far away when this all happened and we ended up being twenty minutes late for the meeting. I think Kimberlie and Dr. Fink understand though.
