Broam K's Italian Saga: Day IV

I slept much better last night.  The absence of those hormonely-charged high school boys from the other group was much-relished indeed.  I had also set my alarm for twenty minutes early, which allowed me to get ready at a leisurely pace and still have time for a cigar on the patio before most of the rest of the tour group was even out of their rooms.

Booya.

Following the standard breakfast, we loaded up the bus and bid adieu to cold, rainy Venice.  The drive would take four hours, so our tour director Rebecca - who is a girl, if you'll remember - decided to put in a DVD.  She figured since we were in Italy, we should watch a movie about Italy.

Remember this guy?!

The Godfather, The Italian Job, Gladiator, or even (God help me) the Super Mario Brothers movie would've been fine choices.  Hell, there's a horde of Italian-themed movies to choose from.  Evidently Rebecca does not know about this.

. . . and that's why we watched Under the Tuscan Sun.

Anyway, I tried my damnedest to not pay attention to that thing, and occupied myself with the view out the bus window instead.

Rest stop at the foot of the mountains. . .

Bizarro Pay Phones

After a brief pit stop at a rest stop, two hours into our journey, the view began to get really awesome.   Hills turned into Mountains as we began to zig-zag around the famous Apennines of Central Italy.

The Apennines

Tuscany was beautiful, but due to the fast-moving bus and reflection on the glass I didn't really get good pictures of the countryside.  I did manage to take some decent video, though (not that I'm willing to wait twelve hours for a one-minute, 1/2gb video to load onto Google to include it here, now that they're charging for data).

We finally rolled into Florence in the late morning, and began a long - and quite inconspicuous - hike through a modern area of the city, taking into consideration our bright blue-and-white EF backpacks and roaming bands of chattering high school girls that all dress the same.

Train yard of Florence

Can you spot the tourists?

We made straight for the Piazza del Duomo - the very heart of Florence itself, where the great Duomo (a gigantic cathedral) sits.

Here, our group once again parted ways for lunch, with Rebecca's instructions to meet back in front of the Duomo at 2:30pm.

Piazza del Duomo

The Facade of the Duomo. . .

Rebecca gives instructions to a horde of teenage girls. . .

The Piazza del Duomo

Statues line the walls of the Orsanmichele

Rebecca led the Orlando Nine down to a granary-turned-church called the Orsanmichele.  Not really the sort of name you'd expect for a church, but whatever.

We were going to buy tickets for the Museo de Delhpi Uffizi (an art museum), but it was closed on the account that it was Monday (Italians seem to have a three-day, 12-hour work week. . .which I'd be a huge fan of).

The Orsanmichele - a granary-turned-cathedral in downtown Florence.  Not much of a looker compared with the grand Duomo, but its nearly 700 years old, and rich with history. . .

At the Facade of the Orsanmichele. . . 

Unable to purchase tickets, we decided to enter the church. . . but unfortunately, we were unable to take pictures or video once inside, just like in Venice. So, once again, here's some images from Google of the first floor:

The old ladies that ran this place were a couple of decrepid, old battle-axes. . . just so you know.   Personally, I don't see the harm in photographing the inside of a building like this (so long as you don't use a flash), but they would've certainly knifed me had I taken any pictures.  And I was not about to get knifed by a couple of old ladies during Spring Break again. . .

The Orsenmichele was not as impressive as some of the other churches we've been to, true enough, but they did have a Virgin Mary fresco from the 1340s (see above), which saw lots of futile pleas during the deadly Bubonic Plague.  I, too, sat before the medieval alter. . . but my pleas were far less desperate, as I assume my future will be far less 'plague-y.'

Up a winding, stone staircase - so narrow that only one person could ascend at a time - we came to a large gallery room with a tall, vaulted ceiling and huge windows that ran nearly floor to ceiling.

At the center stood a dozen statues of famous saints (these being the originals that used to be housed in the alcoves that lined the exterior of the Orsenmichele - those photographed outside on the street are bronze copies to protect the originals against nature and vandalism).  As it turns out, this was the Orsenmichele museum, which - coincidently - is only open on Mondays.

. . . now that's good timing.

Again, no pictures were allowed on this second floor, so here's some more pictures from Google so you know what I'm talking about:

The statues in alcoves that line the outer walls of the building are actually replicas of these originals, which are housed on the second floor inside.  Each statue was commissioned by various Florentine guilds in the 14th century.

. . . the richest guilds choosing to construct theirs of bronze. 

By going up one more floor, you found yourself in an identical room, only sans medieval/renaissance statues.  Here you could take pictures of the impressive view of the city's rooftops.  Which we totally did:

Third floor of the Orsanmichele, which had initially served the city of Florence as the granary storeroom for the city's guilds.  By being housed on this third floor, towering above the surrounding buildings, the city's grain was protected from enemy sieges, the deadly Bubonic Plague, and the like. . .

The Duomo and its impressive dome (the largest brick dome in the world, by the way.)

More of Florence. . .

The Palazzo Vecchio (background) - ancestral home of the powerful Medici family, and currently a museum housing tons of artifacts from the medieval and renaissance eras. . .

After receiving word that some decent 'ristorantes' could be found in the Piazza de San Lorenzo - the heart of Florence's Leather Market - we left Orsanmichele and headed out for food and souvenirs.  Leather is Florence's legendary product, so en route to the restaurant's we were able to catch a glimpse at some of Florence's fabled craft. . .

En route to San Lorenzo.  This archway is famous, but I couldn't tell you what it is. . .

Graffiti is HUGE in Italy. . .

The Leather Market of San Lorenzo. . .

Statue of some guy.  And another cathedral.  Don't know the names of either.

We had lunch at a little 'snack bar' called Caffe San Lorenzo (I had my usual lunch - a PowerBar and a Birra Grande, this time a lager called Peroni which cost three euros for a 24 oz).  The waitress there was Cuban, and the entire staff was very amiable - we were all quite pleased with the service, food, and prices.

Most of the Caffes we frequent in Italy tend to have a 'diner' feel to them - you pick out what you want,  have a seat, and you're in and out quickly. . .

Deli sandwiches, pizza, and pastries - the standard Caffe fare.

Still, these sandwiches ran you about four euros (about $7), so I wasn't having any of it.  That shit adds up real fast.

Gelato. . . apparently a huge deal in Italy.  I didn't try it.

Behold Amy Winehouse's restroom ghost. . .

Three-euro ($5) 24 oz Peroni.  Tasted a lot like a Heineken, and soon became my favorite Italian beer. . . 

Afterwards, it was about time to head back towards the Duomo for our guided tour. . .

Florence is a unique blend of centuries-old architecture and modern Euro-centric fashion. . . 

Our tour guide this time around was much more lively, informative, and flexible than his Venetian counterpart - armed with a fat, stuffed monkey on a stick, his jokes and good humor helped bring the city of Florence to life.

'Follow the chubby monkey, okay?  Okay.'

We first hit up the Duomo - a gigantic domed cathedral that rises of nearly 400 feet into the sky.  As in most churches and cathedrals we've seen so far, the Duomo was covered in rich frescos and statuary crafted by the Renaissance masters.  We were able to take pictures inside, too - which was weird considering most cathedrals frown upon that sort of thing.

Check it out:

The Bell Tower of the Duomo. . . which is considerably tall.

Front gates that lead inside the Duomo's sanctuary.   Like every other church we've seen so far, the Duomo is covered with statues, frescos, relief sculptures, and the like.  The folks who commissioned this thing (probably the Medicis), had to have had a few coins to rub together. . .

Incredibly spacious and well-lit inside the Duomo, which, at its highest point, is nearly 400 feet tall.

This pope looks really, really confused. . .

Some fancy artwork on the inside of the Dome.  I don't envy the guy that painted this thing in the slightest.

The alter. . .?

Side of the Duomo.  There was a line to head up the stairs to the inside of the Dome, but our group didn't explore that route. . . maybe tomorrow, who knows.

After the Duomo, we continued on to the Piazza della Signoria - a large, L-shaped, open 'square' that featured the Museo de Palazzo Vecchio (where the legendary Medici family, the financial powerhouse that ruled Florence for countless years and commissioned most of the Renaissance masters, used to live/work).  There were also several, priceless sculptures and statures from the Renaissance throughout the square (Achilles and Patroclus, Perseus and Medusa, a giant Poseidon fountain, etc.):

The Piazza della Signoria

Remember this? The Palazzo Vecchio.  Last seen from the top floor of the Orsanmichele. . .

Some Italian guy.  My guess is that he was somewhat important.

Poseidon.  Not a big fan of pants. 

Nobody's impressed with a soccer-playing Lion?  Really?!

Multiple Renaissance statues stand in a giant alcove in order to protect them from the elements. . .

Nearly all of these figures come directly from Greek and Roman mythology. 

More dudes that hate pants, guarding the entrance to the ol' Medici place.

This more or less sums up Florence.

Teenagers.  Being schooled.  None of them will remember any of the shit this guy's saying.  While they were sitting through his speech, Yours Truly wandered about the piazza, taking pictures and half-paying attention to what was being said via WhisperNet.

Another tacky souvenir stand. . . this got old REAL fast.

This statue is called 'Being Nagged.'  Look it up.

Nobody pays any attention to Perseus' prize (Medusa's head) anymore. . .

We continued walking through Florence, passing churches, old medieval buildings that now serve as stores for Chanel, Gucci, and Armani, as well as hole-in-the-wall ristorantes, souvenir stores, and exchange kiosks.  Everywhere, as in Venice, you could see sculptures and statues, carvings and friezes, and ornately-carved stone.  The entire city - down to the most humble of buildings - is a work of art.

The Italian version of a 'Bobbie'. . . which, I can only assume, is called a 'Bobbino.'

Word.

In the old Loggia Del Marcato Nuovo, we came upon the Porcellino - a large, bronze boar (which the Florentines call a 'pig.')

Apparently, if you drop a coin in the statue's mouth, however many tries it takes for the coin to stay inside the pig's mouth without falling out, that's the number of years that will pass before you return to Florence 

I didn't try it.  I'll come back when I damn well feel like it.

These guys always creep my shit out. . .

Approaching the banks of the Arno River. . .

More street art. . . ridiculously overpriced.

The Ponte Vecchio Bridge

Shops along the Ponte Vecchio Bridge

We strolled down the Arno River towards the Ponte Vecchio Bridge, where countless jewelry stores were built right along into the sides of the bridge below the street level. . . 

Most of these stores specialize in gold, and are way out of my souvenir price range.  This bridge dates back to the medieval era, and is the only bridge left in Florence that predates World War II.

Down the Arno River.

Traffic along the bridge.  And yet another famous guy's bust.

Apparently the Germans destroyed all of the others in an attempt to stop the Allies from advancing.  The bridge was spared because the officer in charge of the detonations was an avid art lover.  Go figure.

More gold merchants. . . 

There's some random tradition that totally explains why this gate is all covered with locks. . . but I don't remember what the hell it is.

The last stop on our guided tour was at the Leonardo Leather Shop, where we were to watch a leather-making demonstration.  Unfortunately for me, I had to use the restroom severely, and was waiting in line for the 'water closet' during the duration of the presentation.

By the time I got back from pissing my brains out, the group was already exiting into the gift shop. . .

Over.  Priced.

Mr. Hough and his students. . .

Again, just like with the glass in Venice, everything was way too expensive - I could buy the same thing off Amazon using my Prime membership for 1/10th the price.

We had an hour before we had to get back on the bus, so I ventured down the Via d Garli to the Piazza del Croce to see the big Basilica del Croce (didn't bother going inside, though - it was closed).  On my own, it was a lot easier to walk around and take pictures 'under the radar' without looking too much like a tourist. . .

Heading towards the Piazza del Croce. . . 

The Basilica del Santa Croce.  Despite not being as famous as the Duomo (it's considered a minor cathedral in the Roman Catholic Church), this Franciscan church is called the Temple of the Glories because it houses the tombs of Michelangelo, Rossini, Machiavelli, Galileo and a bunch of famous, dead Italians. 

Reminds me of the British bikes I used to hawk to villagers back in Ghana. . .

Ol' Strappy takes a breather. . .

Soon enough, we all reconvened at Leonardo's and began the long trek back to the bus.  We trudged back along the Arno River for the majority of the way, and had to board the bus while he waited in traffic (that was interesting to say the least).

Fortified walls along the Arno River. . .

A Post-WWII bridge (thank the Germans) spanning the Arno. . .

The lamest waterfall I've ever seen.

Loading the bus with tourists. . .

On the way back to the hotel, most of the people fell asleep. . . but I can't get enough of this mountain-ous countryside, so no sleep for me. . .

Cafes built right over and across the public sidewalks are pretty common over here. . .

We arrived in the town of Montecatini, and were staying in a joint called the Hotel Universo.  The bus driver unloaded our luggage in the middle of the road, so we had to scurry away with our suitcases while Fiats and hatchbacks honked away at us.

Good times. . .

Since the fates love me ever so much, my room was located on the very top floor of the hotel.  With the high school girls clogging up the elevators, Yours Truly decided it'd be 'legit' to haul my luggage up six flights of stairs. . . forgetting, of course, that Yours Truly is somewhat out of shape.

It was just as much fun as you'd think it'd be.

A cramped, shitty room.  Awesome.

Once again, it would appear that the Italians are big fans of their bidets. . .  

The Command Center.  Established.

Fold-up bunk beds. . .?

The Wi-Fi in this hotel was free, but required a 22-digit passcode. . . and, awesomely, the signal only worked within 20 - 30 feet of the lobby.  I was able to send out an email (finally) and attach some pictures, but the dial-up-ish connection was horrible at best.  Not that I had a whole hell of a lot of time for using the Internet, though - dinner was upon us, and we were served the exact same meal we had been served the evening before.

Whatever.  It was free.

After dinner, most of the high school girls - and the majority of the female chaperones, oddly enough - began dolling themselves up for a 'disco' (I was apprehensive at first, but then found out disco is the Italian term used for club. . . so, in reality, I was still apprehensive, just not as much.)  There's a club about a block down from our hotel that caters to EF groups and young tourists , so for fifteen euros (which includes a free drink. . . so it's still a rip-off) students and chaperones could dance their asses off and get moderately drunk while doing so.

Education, folks.

The whole prospect of throwing a bunch of underage girls into such an environment seemed (and still seems) questionable, but, then again, I'm not their chaperone.

So. . . who cares.

Anyway, we walked down to the disco at 9:45pm, passed the hooting and hollering of local boys (I kept thinking 'jail bait,' but kept that to myself).  I ended up not having to pay the ridiculous fifteen-euro cover charge, due to me being one of the two Group Leaders on this adventure.

Lame.

Good thing, too - if the idea of being in a 'club' with hundreds of drunk high school kids wasn't shitty enough, the fact that drinks across the bar (from 6 oz beers to small mixed drinks) cost seven euros (approx. $10 - $12) was enough for me to say 'no thanks.'

After ten minutes of waiting for the stairwell to clear - two more EF groups showed up, dressed up and ready to meet their exotic trysts, following by a bunch of rowdy NCAA players (who tried talking the admission price down by claiming they'd one day be in the NBA), and a handful of drunk, horny college kids from Croatia (seriously) - I made my escape from the meat market.

Montecatini Terme

BOOYA.

The town square was full of young people stumbling about, shouting, joking, on the prowl for the opposite sex, etc.  Older adults were about as well, but they kept a lower profile.  Crowds gathered at the entrances to every nightclub in town as I made my way back to the hotel.  Before going up to my room, I ducked into a Snack Bar and bought a large Peroni (birra grande, people) and proceeded to the hotel lobby.

Here I was finally able to Skype with Kris and the girls.  The connection sucked, so the picture lagged and appeared almost 8-bit.  The girls - in true Hough form - were loud and hyper and unable to focus.  in the end, though, it was good to finally be able to touch base with my roommates.

Around 11:45pm or so, I retired to my room.

Utterly exhausted.

- Brian