June 15 - June 18 Firenze Fashion Victim

My trip from Bologna to Firenze was reasonably uneventful, aside from the nagging heat, the only point of excitement was on platform 3 in bologna station where ... having managed to secure a patch of shade i sat and watched the other passengers arrive and fumble around like fools just like i did... when suddenly,.. he emerged from the underpass,.. the last of the great exploreres,.. this was an american tourist who had obviously spent some time studying old tarzan movies before selecting the appropriate garments to accompany him on his no doubt adventure packed package tour of italy... i dont think kontiki stop in bologna.. maybe he is a scout for future expeditions. Now he wasnt wearing a pith helmet,.. but if you were thinking along those lines you would have been rather close because i would wager florence's coldest beer on the fact that he had forgotten the helmet on a bus somewhere because the outfit was screaming for it. I managed to keep the amusement internalised until, in a swift well practiced manouvre he turned moved both hands behand his back and opened the vents that ran along side his outdoorsmans jacket allowing the cool breeze which would no doubt soon emerge as predicted by his instruments to cool him down... this guy was tall too, and this is mne telling you he is tall... and im tall... the unzipping process was swiftly executed but still took a good 2 seconds to complete. Immediately after this i had moved into a reclining position and threw out one of the best belly laughs i have unleashed on this continent, ... i was alone in my outpouring of emotion but that didnt hold me back, his eurostar train should be just about pulling into some rugged tanzanian station about now.

Arrived in Firenze on Sunday afternoon and quickly tracked down my lodgings Sense of direction was spot on this time, room was ok, shower wasnt a shoe box, usual 3 star fire trap rabbit warren of buildings. As it so happens my roommate from Urbania Ben would be in Firenze and we had planned to meet at the you guessed it duomo, I of course4 waited nearby not wanting to give the japanese schoolgirls too much of a chance to photograph me... Ben swaggerred towards me, the confidence of a loca, having spent 8 months or so here as a student and even working one of the god damn souvenir stands on the ponte vecchio of all places.

Ben gave me a guided tour of the sites, we didnt venture into anything other than the odd gelateria but that suited me. We made it to a little bar in sant spirito ... which is on the (gasp) other side of the Arno and met with Samir and some other locals, Samir works the souvenir stand at the middle of the ponte vecchio and was an all round top bloke brought me a beer and all, now thats just top.

After 3 or 4 ales the 20 minute walk to the shack Ben had picked for din dins that night became a 35 minute stagger, i know this muich.. it was in santa croce, behind the church and the piazza. The regular calcio storico games take place on the piazza in front of santa croce church and yeah we had missed it... calcio storico is the italians justification for claiming the right to call themselves the originators of the game of soccer. Now calcio storic occasionally looks like soccer, but more often resembles an organised beating

Dinner was ok, but i started to get bad feelings about this towm, when the waitress who turned out to be Irish, was commenting on our Italian Having surviuved the tourist throngs in venezia i thought that florence would be a sinch, but alas no, it had found my weakness.

The next 2 days helped reinforce this thought in many ways. Sure venice is a tourist town, sure its hard to find people who are native italians and speak to you in italian. But the city itself has a spirit that has endured and which mocks the tourists that come there stay for 3 days and think they understand what makes the town tick. I havent sensed such a spirit in florence, yes there are stupifying landmarks and no doubt the worlds best art, but the city is sparce and the spaces between these highlights are to me totally demorialising.

Adding to my bitterness were 2 things,. 1 a bi-annual fashion extravanganze happened to be running in firenze on the days in which i wanted to find accomodation. The Pitti uomo is the mens fashion event and therefore every stick of accomodation in the town had been snapped up by some gutter dwelling industry type. Of my 3 days in florence i spent at least 1 walking around looking for accomodation or on the phone asking about it... what a treat.

The second of my 3 days in firenze was spent in my bedroom in bed. The heatwave broke with a ferocious storm on Monday afternoon, i stood in the rain watching steam rise off everything, it was a truly joyous 30 minutes or so, not an umbrella in sight, it even took the moroccans a good hour before they started trying to sell you little fold up brollies,.. actually at 3 euro a piece they were probably providing a public service for a change... but then again i didnt buy one.

I returned to my bedroom soaked to the skin, opened the door ro my personal space and was greeted by a strong blast of cold air courtesy of my air conditioner, i switched it off, opened the windows squelched my way onto the bed and actually slept for an hour happy to let the mozzies feast on me. I awoke feeling good, feeling better about the town, had a shower and went about the usual process of appropriate attention being giving to various body parts. I bent down to search for garments when an almighty force tore into my back, suffering chronic backpain i know all about the occasional tightness and spike of pain but this was a new world, i slumped to the floor, .. not an easy feat in itself in this bathroom and let the pain organise itself into a committe and write a declaration of wart on the back of my brain.

I think i used my finger tips to drag me along the floor and to a space in which i could stretch out. I couldnt move my back at all, but felt no pain when stretched out flat so i was able to laugh... laughter is the best medicine,.. pigs ass it is. I could see the phone cable makes its way to the top of the bedside table,.. i reached for it and gave it a good tug, the lamp that landed on my face made it immediately apprent that this wasnt the phone cable. I could see the phone cable make its way to the top of the bediside table,.. i knew for sure it was the bedside cable as the lamp was now sitting on my chest... i tugged at it figuring what else could go wrong.

I dialled reception and in my pain found that my italian had improved, i dropped the odd swear word, told the guy i couldnt walk and used some of the phrases the beggars have used to appeal for assistance. He explained to me that all they had was aspirin but he would bring that up to my room ''pronto'' that means fast in this town.

He emerged complete with cup of water and a look of grave concern covered his face, yes i had not had the opportunity to put my pants on... thats makes 2 unsuspecting italians i have exposed myself to, way to go. Turns out that the word voltaren translates directly into italian, they change the pronunciation of course... typical,.. but i had to procure some of the goodness that only voltaren could provide. Signore from reception couldnt help me as he was the only person running the hotel, and the only farmacia that would definitely be open at this time was back at the train station.

I swallowed the aspirin, waited 15 minutes gritted my teeth and made my way down 4 flights of stairs to reception, he wished me luck, apologised again that he couldnt help more,.. i lied and said oh youve done so much.. and walked out into the tourists. Next door to the hotel was a 24 hour bar, these are handy as they serve alcohol... i walked up to the counter and said ''grappa'' she replied with about 5 words .. i replied with '' non lo so,... grappa!'' she placed one before me... i swallowed it and said '' un altro'' she saw it coming so had the bottle in her hand, i repeated this process once more and now found myself able to mmove my head back to the normal working angle and yes feet could be placed one generally in front of the other without too much ball tearing pain.

I swaggerred my way to the farmacia at the station and up to the counter, hey i was so lucid i even remembered that i had lost my toothbrush during the exods from my last hotel in bologna and looked through the vast array of brushes they had availabel and selected my appropriate weapon.

The pharmacist helped me out, got me my vol-ta-ren but just as i was about to pay she asked me if i had been drinking... i explained to her that i wa in a great deal of pain, this was made apparent by the fact that half of my 3rd grappa was actually located between my goatee and my shirt. She was well trained and refused to give me the pills if i had just had a drink, i got a bit upset, she said go get some food and i will give you the pills... and o i procured the worst 2 slices of pizza any person has paid money for from one of the bars on the platforms came back to the window of the farmacia, tapped a few coins aginst it to draw more attention to myself and chowed down on said slices. She kep her end of the bargain,.. gave me the pills i had 3 at the counter and went outside to let the lovely volatern cloud come and sweep all the bad stuff away... 10 minutes later,.. it did... right on cue, i toook the opportunity to head back to the hotel and prepare myself for a night of motionlesness... oh yeah.. the tv remote doesnt work either.