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Four: Florence,
Italy
Take A Hint!
The first inklings of
what Florence would be like occurred on the train ride there
from Venice. A young Italian man decided to sit at our booth
even though his reserved seat was in an entirely different
coach. So for the next three hours of our train ride, this
man attempted to talk to us in Italian, despite knowing
perfectly well that we didn’t speak an ounce of the
language. In addition, he made it a point to have conversations
with the old couple sitting on the other side of the train
from us. These conversations were clearly about us girls
and how we wouldn’t talk to the poor young gentleman.
Apparently Italian men don’t know how to take a hint.
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"On
March 17th, two brave, attractive, and daring students,
Shawna and Amy, embarked on 18 days of nonstop backpacking
across Europe. Both players were involved in the New York
University study abroad program in London, England, and
decided to spend spring break taking advantage of how ridiculously
cheap it is to travel in Europe. They set out on an amazing
quest to find one thing: Men in Kilts (not to be confused
with Men in Tights, as in "Robin Hood Men in Tights,"
a comedy favorite of both travelers). Shawna writes about
the history, the food, the catcalls, and the revelries the
two ladies found on their journey through six cities: Dublin,
Paris, Venice, Florence, Rome, and Athens. Read on to find
out if they were successful in their quest to find kilted
men…
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We stayed in Florence for three days,
including Easter Sunday. Our first day in Florence involved going
to the extensive leather market at San Lorenzo piazza, where we
were harassed by the Italian men running booths along the street
fair every inch of the way. We followed up the experience by having
a nice Italian meal at the Zaza restaurant, which is apparently
a tourist hot spot because the restaurant was almost entirely
filled with obnoxious Americans. However, the food was as good
as my colleague who recommended the place said it would be.
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Easter Sunday was filled
with festivities surrounding the Duomo, despite the dreary
rain. We didn’t make it to the ceremony but we certainly
heard the bells ringing and the fireworks (in the middle
of the day?) going off. Instead, we took that opportunity
to travel to the Galleria dell’Accademia to see the
David. This was a smart decision on our behalf because instead
of having to wait four hours in line, which is what the
wait would usually be, we went in within minutes of arriving.
This was because everyone else was being a diligent Catholic
and watching the Easter Sunday ceremony at the Duomo. Genius!
Ironically, our productive morning
was followed by five hours of napping. Fortunately for us,
we had enough days left in Florence to do everything there
is to do in Florence…and most of everything to do
in Florence is outdoors anyways.
Ready to make up for our lazy ways
of yesterday, our next day in Florence was packed with fun
tourism. We went to the Duomo and walked all 463 steps to
the top of the dome to see the most breathtaking view of
Florence.
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Afterwards we made our
way along the river and up to the Piazzale Michelangelo
and Palazzo Pitti and then crossed the Ponte Vecchio, which
is the famous bridge in Florence that houses dozens of jewelry
stores along the way. We also stopped at the Ufizzi to see
the copy of the David displayed outside the gallery.
That evening, we ate dinner at a restaurant that has the
best caprese in the world and was also conveniently located
next door to our hotel. I’m always amazed by the European
dining experience; in stark contrast to dining in NYC or
America in general, waiters don’t rush you to finish
your meal at restaurants in Europe. Rather, you almost have
to beg them to bring the check to you. Upon first discovering
this nature of European dining, I was relieved; there’s
nothing worse than feeling pressured to finish your meal
and get the hell out of a restaurant because there is a
waiting time of 2 hours for the next diner. However, more
and more, I’m beginning to miss expedient service
as I ask for my check for the third time and feel like an
ass for pestering the waiter. |
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But back to Florence: so, in true European
tradition, we ate dinner for about three and a half hours and
called it a night, bidding farewell to Florence.
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