So last Monday began my 3-week Spring Break. Although, it started off as usual as normal. I went to my Italian lessons with the girls, and we grabbed tea afterwards. However, afterwards, we decided we wanted pizza. Why don’t we go to Don Miguel’s and see if a certain beautiful, blue-eyed boy is working?
And guess what? He was. :)
So we go inside, and say hello. I got this pizza with a white sauce. It had ham on it, so I thought it should be pretty good. Come to find out, that white sauce was actually potatoes. Like, mashed potatoes on pizza. Not my favorite, but it was terrible. I knew I shouldn’t have changed from what I usually get. This is why I don’t try new foods. I’m sticking to the red sauce from now on.
When ordering pizza, I talked to Andrea a little bit. At least, with what Italian I could successfully communicate to him in. His uncle comes out and starts talking to us, explaining that he was Don Miguel (from the sign outside) and Andrea was his nephew. He then asks me where I was from. Why did he ask only me? Goodness gracious, I’m like a magnet. When I told him the U.S. he excitedly showed me a postcard from Yale, where his other nephew was attending. “Yale? Wow! Wonderful!” I tell him. He then goes on to say that his other nephew was very beautiful, and Andrea was the ugly nephew. If Andrea is the UGLY nephew, then I really want to see the other one! Because Andrea is far from ugly in my American eyes.
After we sat there for a while, we left, saying goodbye to Andrea on the way out. I sighed again. I won’t see him for a long time due to my 3-week Spring Break. Maybe I can convince him to come with me…
I went home to pack. Marcello was going to call me when he was done with his thesis meetings in the late afternoon. It was about 12:00, so I had plenty of time to pack. I’m listening to music and trying to figure out what to wear, while simultaneously checking weather.com and emptying out my backpack, when my phone rings. It was Marcello!
“Anna, I have finished my meeting. So, let’s meet in 30-45 minutes? Do you know Don Miguel’s in the Piazza. I’ll be there eating my pizza. See you soon!”
30 minutes to pack! Yikes! AND I have to go back to the place I just ate at. Andrea is going to think I’m such a creeper. This could ruin our whole future together.
Okay, so I exaggerate, but after I hastily managed to pack everything I needed in my backpack and computer bag, I headed across town to meet up with Marcello. I had my black running shoes dangling by their laces from my computer bag, and it looked like I was carrying enough food in my backpack for all of starving Africa. But I don’t have a tiny suitcase with me, so it was the best I could do.
I entered Don Miguel’s and didn’t even look in Andrea’s direction. Yes, I was very proud of myself. I saw Marcello sitting across from a very pretty lady. When I managed to maneuver me and my ginormous backpack/computer bag between the tiny seats, the lady stuck out her hand and said, “Anna! It’s so nice to finally meet you. Marcello has told me a lot about you!”
Her name was Kristen, and she was Marcello’s girlfriend. The best part? She’s from Boston. Another American!
After she introduces herself, the first thing she says to me is, “that guy over there was talking about you. He said he met some girl from America. A funny-named state near Texas,” motioning to Andrea. Right as she said that, he pointed to me and said, “Lei!” (Her!). Kristen laughed and said, “Yeah, her!”
So I guess he DID see me come in. I was kinda hard to miss. Pink jacket. Blonde hair. Purple computer bag. And a backpack that looked ready to explode. It was only wishful thinking if I had any dreams of blending in.
But the fact that he was talking to her about me is a good thing, right?! We sat waiting for Marcello to finish his lunch, then he pays and says he will meet us outside of the restaurant. As we were leaving, Kristen thanked Andrea for the pizza. He asked where I was going, and she said “Firenze.” He looked at me and nodded in approval, smiling at me when we said goodbye. Have I said his eyes are beautiful?
After leaving the restaurant, we hopped in the car. We stopped by Marcello’s Teramo house so Kristen could shut off all the lights, then we were on the way to Florence! It was an absolutely GORGEOUS day outside, and I was just praying that it would be the same in Florence.
On the 5-hour drive, Kristen and I talked about practically everything: Siblings. Grad school. Working. Good teachers. Bad teachers. Languages. Magic School Bus days at her school. How HUGE my high school in terms of students was. Apples. Peanut butter. Movies in English. Siblings. Family members. Parents. Tampons.
Like I said. Practically everything.
We picked up Marcello’s daughter, Costanza, at her friend’s house. Apparently she speaks English, but she is very shy about it. Kristen makes one night a week English night. Despite it being English night, Constanza didn’t speak much English the entire time I was there. I don’t blame her though. I’m embarrassed to speak my Italian, because I don’t want to sound stupid speaking it.
Kristen and I were dropped off at the supermarket to pick up things for dinner. She said they have peanut butter in Florence! But, unfortunately not in that supermarket. But, technically, they live outside of Florence. Maybe I’ll have more luck in town?
We got to the house, and I sit with Kristen in the kitchen. It was like American HEAVEN. She gave me Entertainment Weekly, US Weekly, and People magazines to read. She had Easter Peanut M&Ms on the table. She pulled out Peeps and told me to finish them off if I would like. She drew a package of Oreos out of the cupboard, and tossed a bag of Maple and Brown Sugar instant oatmeal in my lap. Like, I said…American heaven.
We had a wonderful dinner, and I turned in to my tiny bedroom for the night. I actually did homework. On Spring Break. My overachieving tendencies never take a vacation. I didn’t sleep well that night, because I was hot and too excited about my trip the next morning.
We all took a 9:10 train into Florence, and once we got there we went out separate ways. Marcello said goodbye and headed to his University office, Kristen pointed me to the Tourist Information office and she and Costanza went shopping, and I headed to that very Tourist office. When I was called up to the window, the lady asked me where I came from. Only, for some reason, I heard, “where are you going?” I said a hostel, and she asked, “Austria?” then marks down a tally on her piece of paper.
I see what she has just done, and I say, “Oh, no no! I’m from the United States.” She nods her head, then writes “USA” on top of her paper and puts town a tally. One lonely tally. I can’t be the only American in this town…I’m just the first one to come to this office. That has to be it.
She gives me a map, circles where my hostel is, and I head that direction. It was actually really easy to get to, despite being pretty far from where everything I wanted to see was. I discovered this over the next few days. I dropped my stuff in the communal, locked, storage area until I could check in at 3:00.
I decided to climb the dome of the cathedral. I walked around the church 2 or 3 times trying to find a ticket booth, but I couldn’t. The next thing I know, some guy has come running up behind me and asks me where I’m from. Not another one.
Yes. A creeper. And I haven’t even been in Florence for an hour yet. He didn’t know much English, so I tried my best to talk in Italian. Again with the questions about where I live, where I was staying, etcetera, which I did my best to give vague answers to. By this point, a lady cop and her male-cop teammate walk by. I think she could tell I wasn’t comfortable, because she conveniently placed herself 2 feet away from me and stood watching the line at the cathedral.
The creeper asked me to go to a “discopub” with him, to which I told him I didn’t know what I would be doing the next couple of nights and shouldn’t make plans. At a lull in the conversation, I took the opportunity to turn to the lady cop and ask where I could buy a ticket to climb the church dome. At the door, she said. Perfect.
I began to walk that direction, turned and said over my shoulder to my creeper, “I’m going to go climb that. Ciao!” At least he didn’t follow. He seemed to get the idea much more quickly than Jimmy.
Standing line to climb the dome, I got into conversation with this couple behind me. They were from New Jersey! The father, Skip, was vacationing in Italy with his wife, Jane, and their 2 sons Mike and Jeff. They were incredibly nice people, and I enjoyed telling them all about my life in Italy! We got inside the covering of the dome and, literally, seconds later it starts pouring rain. What timing.
463 stairs later, I was on top of the 4th largest cathedral in the world. The view was breathtaking. Which was bad, considering I had no more breath for it to take after climbing those 463 stairs. I enjoyed looking around Florence when Skip came over and asked if I would take a picture of him and his family. “Of course!” I told him. “Only if you will take a picture of me afterwards!”
One bad thing about traveling alone: you don’t get many pictures of yourself.
That afternoon I headed back to my hostel to finally check in and rest up a little. I hopped on the Internet and watched Melrose Place, when one of my roommates came in. She was a mom (40-something?) from Australia. She had left her 2 kids in London with the grandparents and took a little vacation for herself. She was very nice, but I didn’t get to know her very well, unfortunately. She had a 5 AM cab to take, so she went to bed early that night.
For dinner that night I decided I would go out to this little off-the-beaten-path restaurant listed in my Italy guidebook. After about 45 minutes of wandering around, I obviously wasn’t going to find this place. I should have remembered that it was my first night in Florence, and trying to find a tiny restaurant on a even tinier side road wasn’t going to be easy. In fact, it was impossible.
I turned into the closest restaurant I could find, after assuring that the menu was in my price range. I walked in, and a nice older man asked me how many. “Solo uno” (Only one), I replied. He motioned to a chair right in the front of the restaurant. The rest of the night, he was my personal servant. I think he was the owner, because I didn’t see him serving any other tables but my own. Here we go again with the special treatment. I’m starting to get used to this!
This guy was hilarious. At the table next to me were 4 people. Americans if I was any good at placing accents. Whenever the ladies didn’t finish their food, the owner would come over, tuck their napkins around their necks, and feed them until they were finished! It was hilarious.
I ended up talking to the 4 people seated at that table. They were in fact from the States! One couple was from Georgia, and the others were from Florida. Fellow SEC members. Best conference in the nation.
They were on vacation, just like every other non-student in Florence. I told them about studying in my tiny town, and let them know about certain traditions that were uniquely Italian. They asked me what this funky drink was, but I couldn’t tell them. They showed me a picture, but I had never seen it in my life.
The owner came back over to my table to clean up my plates. He asked me if I wanted dessert. When I told him I was full, he shook his head and asked if I like chocolate. Of course I do!
He came out with this amazing-looking dessert. But I said I didn’t want any! Man, he is persistent. But I can definitely finish it.
When I asked for the check, he wrote it down on the paper placemat. He even gave me the dessert for free. :) I paid, said thank you and left to his calling, “Ciao, bella!” after me. I said goodbye to my new friends at the table next to me, saying, “Ya’ll have a good rest of your trip!” One of the ladies said that that was definitely the first “ya’ll” she had heard while being over here. I apologized, laughing, saying that it was just part of my vocabulary. They laughed too, saying that it was part of their vocabularies too. They were just surprised to hear it over the Atlantic Ocean.
I’m glad I could make their night. I do what I can.
I got lost on the way home. Well, not completely lost. I managed to find my way back, it just took twice as long as it should have. And I had downed an entire liter of water at dinner, so I was hoping for the shortest trip back to the hostel as possible. Of course not.
By the time I rolled into bed, everyone else but one was in bed. I set my alarm for 7:30, telling myself I would wake up, shower, then get in line to see David at The Accademia. It was so nice to lay down. Day 1 in Florence had been crazy. 4 more days to go!
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