Florence, Italy

Our time in Florence could have been very different. We had our first wierd couchsurfing experience here. After Venice we were very in need of a few cheap days, and feeling pretty desparate to find a host. Efforts to find a host had not been fruitful, so we posted an emergency request in the Florence group and hoped for the best. On the train, we got a message from Leonardo, telling us he could host for the first two nights. With great relief, we accepted his offer and made plans to meet. He told us what bus to take from the city center, and to tell the driver the name of his office building (something in Italian) so we could determine at which stop we should get off. Not necessarily the most logical way to meet someone, but happy to have found a place for the next few nights, we followed his instructions. This was actually foreshadowing for what was to come.

Normally we get very specific directions, i.e. "take line 4 in the direction of (insert name of last stop here), and get off at (insert name of stop). Call me when you pass (insert landmark) and I will come meet you." At this point, we are appreciative that we have somewhere to stay, and don't think twice. When we ask the driver where to get off, she doesn't know. A gentleman near the front of the bus says "copalignia", or at least that's what I hear. We start watching the message board, waiting for our stop. Meanwhile, Leonardo has texted us, wanting to know our status. We reply and he tells us we should be there in ten minutes. Twenty minutes later, we haven't seen our stop, and Leonardo is calling. Andy talks to him, but the bus is loud, Leo's English is not very good, and he has a very strong accent. Essentially, we gather no information. He calls back a few minutes later. Andy is frustrated, so Marisa takes the call. A lot more of the same ensues. He is definitely either saying to remain on the bus.... or DON'T remain on the bus, along with and a lot of other nonsensical strings of verbs and nouns. It is obvious at this point that Leo is very frustrated, but we try to remain polite and calm, apologising for inconviencing him. He demands to talk to Andy again. Now we have the attention of several local Florentines, one in particular who speaks far better English than Leo. (I will interject here that we are not holding it against him that his English is less than adequate. Clearly our Italian is far less than adequate. But, we weren't yelling/mumbling/talking very fast in our less than adequate Italian. In fact we were speaking in very loud, slow, clear and concise in simple English. AND we had asked him several times to text instead of calling, which would have been cheaper and probably comprehendible.) After telling this gentleman where we want to go, he consults his fellow Italians, and they determine we are on the wrong bus... but copalignia is coming up. We are so confused. The bus we are on runs in a loop, and at this point we have made a full revolution. Once back at the station one of the girls looks at me and points outside, saying, "copalignia," as if motioning for us to get off. We now gather that copalignia means end of the line. This is not helpful. A minute later, we recieve, finally, a text message from Leo, telling us the name of the stop we need to get off. I recognize it immediatly from our first revolution, and a few minutes later we arrive at the stop.

We thought our troubles were past. Once in the car, Leo explains that he needs to stop at a grocery store. Fine, no problem. After speaking with him for a few minutes during the car ride, we are overwhelmed. At first we thought he was the looney proffessor type- his office was at a University- but he explains that he is a manager of information technology for the engineering department. He doesn't stop talking, and very awkwardly jumps from one thought to another, thinking that we are with him all along. He gives us the "mmmm, you're supposed to be laughing now..." look (either that or the "I'M INSANE!!!" look, I'm still not sure), and speaks so fast that we can only pick up on half of it anyway. In the grocery store it became even more evident. Whether it was the way he dangled the cart from the corner behind him as he briskly walked, or how he lingered over Andy's shoulder as he tried to pick out cheese, one thing was clear: this guy was a little bit nuts. While we make our way through the grocery store he informes us that we would be cooking dinner that night, which would have been overwhelming anyway, but then he went on to say that he doesn't like lobster, or bread in his soup, and he's already had meat a few times this week, et cetera. Taken off gaurd, we scramble to try and think of what we could cook that would be suitable for everyone. At one point we were looking for chickpeas to make falafel, but Leo didn't understand "chickpea" or "garbanzo bean". This shouldn't have been a problem, as this is actually a word that I know how to say in Italian: "ceci". When he still didn't understand me, instead of just asking me to repeat myself, or speak slower, he just ignored me and turned to Andy for an explanation, giving him an obnoxious "what the hell is this this crazy woman saying" face. At this point, I walked away to pick out some vino, which we clearly needed in order to deal with this situation. A few minutes later, my choice in wine was also rejected, as it was only suitable to accompany red meat. We eventually settle on just making macaroni and cheese, but once we begin to look for the right cheeses to use, he hovers unconfortably close over our shoulders, circling around us like a moth around a bright light at night. Suddenly, we were experiencing clausterphbia in an enormous grocery store. And on and on continued our increasingly bizarre grocery shopping experience.

Once back at his place, we start boiling water for pasta. After a few minutes, it became evidant that WE were not in fact making dinner, Leo was, not pleased with our the idea of our version of pasta with cheese. Rather than explaining this to us, he just kind of took over, making his pasta quatro formaggi. As we were discussing what cheese to put in, he would interject saying, "no, no" making it clear that his recipe was to be followed. Dinner was awkward. Everything was awkward. It is worth mentionioning that his cooking was indeed excellent, preparing homemade tirimisu (using Marsala instead of a coffee or liquer) and a Tuscan style soup that were both terrific. We should also say that we are, as always, grateful to anyone who opens up their home to us and always accepting of different people, however this case was not one of a culture clash or a "bad fit"- it was social ineptness and lack of consideration in certain regards to people that are guests in one's home. There is so much more to say on this topic, so many more examples of where things went wrong/weird, but I would rather not think about it any longer. Our last night in Florence, we stayed in a hostel and celebrated our freedom from Leonardo.

Our first morning, we went to the Accedemia and saw Michelangelo's David. I was not expecting to be impressed, but it was amazing! I had no idea how big it was going to be, I had previously figured that it was life-size. We spent the better part of the morning sneaking behind pillars and poking up behind tour groups trying to take pictures, which was strictly forbidden and the rule enforced by several watch ladies around the room. The rest of the pieces in this Museum consisted of clay molds for other famous sculptures, and a vast array of religious paintings by notable artists. I can appreciate a fine brush stroke as much as anyone, but after a certain number of "Madonna and Child(s)," my mind started to drift elsewhere. A gentleman pulled us aside and asked us as we were coming down the stairs to leave, "oh, what's up there? anything good?" "More religious paintings," I answered rather bleakly. I think we were on the same page.

After the Accedemia, we considered going to the Uffizi, but decided we were museumed out for the day. We visited the "Duomo," the giant cathedral in Florence, next. This was actually very different from all of the other cathedrals that we had visited during this trip in a couple of ways. First, the colors on the outside were much more vibrant, which helped aleve the dreariness of the rainy day. Second, the inside had barely any seating, leaving most of the nave open for pedestrian traffic. The dome itself was a fresco of "The Last Judgment," elaborately detailing the final eternal home of both sinners and saints.

For lunch, we had an interesting theory. Looking at the map, we noted a grid of small streets in a neighborhood across the river, and thought based soley on that, that we could find a good meal in that part of town. I don't know if that strategy will work in every city, but it certainly paid off here. We had an amazing traditional Florentine style lunch in the basement of an old taven style building. The walls were several hundred year old bricks, arching into impressive high ceilings. There was a notation on the menu, explaining that because the restaurant used traditional old-fashioned Florentine cooking techniques, many of the dishes take quite some time to prepare. We took this as a good sign. Andy ate a perfectly executed roasted half chicken with roasted potatoes and Marisa enjoyed Crespelle alla Fiorentina, large homemade egg noodles stuffed with spinach and ricotta cheese, baked in the oven and finished with a creamy tomato sauce, delectable! We also enjoyed biscotti, small almond cookies, with vin santo, a sweet and strong dessert wine, for dessert. Although the biscotti can be quite dry on its own, when dipped in the vin santo, it's perfect! The other really great meal we had in Florence was at a restaurant called "La Messiera," which my parents reccommended and ate at while in Florence a couple years ago. Here, we sat at the table directly in front of the kitchen and were able to watch the chef prepare everything from cut-to-order T-Bone steaks Florentine style to punded out veal loin for veal Milinaise. When the restaurant became a little more crowded, we ended up with a few more people at our table. We shared fettunta, a tuscan garlic bread and ravioli stuffed cheese and spinach, topped with a terrific pomodoro sauce. Marisa ate Ribolitta, a traditional Tuscan soup made of vegetables, beans, bread, and stock. Despite being listed as a starter, it was very filling, and more than adequate as a main course. Andy enjoyed Veal Osso Bucco which was reportdly also very good.

With mixed impressions of Florence, we returned to our hostel to a blissfully quiet and unexciting abode, where we both got to chat with our families using skype. After having our fill of this Tuscan town, we prepared ourselves for one of our most anticipated stops of the trip - the Cinqua Terre villages of Italy, along the Mediterranean coast.