7-10-09

Sorry I haven't been posting lately. Term finals are eating my soul, and my Russian Literature final paper will be the death of me. So, to remain somewhat sane, I decided to post yet another record from my Notes for your enjoyment. Let the madness continue...

We finally made it to Florence! The plane ride has thoroughly botched my reliable perception of time - Is today the 10th? Or has the plane ride sent us back in time to the 9th? Who knows... And so if you are now as confused as I am we can continue the story. Getting to Florence was interesting. It all started in Portland when they told us we had to pick up our boarding passes for the flight to Italy in Amsterdam. Upon hearing this, my dad and I exchanged skeptical glances knowing exactly what that meant. We pleaded with the attendant to try once more, and she said that because it was a different airline it was impossible to retrieve the boarding passes. We would have to get them in Amsterdam. As we walked away from the desk, my dad said, "Ah hell, let's go on an adventure!" And that is exactly what we did.

Upon arriving at the Amsterdam airport we stopped at the list for departures. The readout listed our flight to Florence as canceled. Having our worst nightmare come to fruition, we made our way to the ticket booth. Behind the desk sat a portly Dutch woman who told us our flight to Florence had been canceled. "Well DUH!" I remember thinking, "If that's all we wanted to know, we'd still be sitting in front of the departure listings. We need a solution woman!" Well, she had one. We were to take different flight to Bologna, where a transport would be waiting to take us to Florence. We said goodbye to our Dutch maiden and pressed onwards.

The flight to Bologna was pretty uneventful. I attempted to rest my weary body during the two hour flight, but chance saw to it that I didn't get a wink. Behind me sat a beautiful Dutch family whose oldest son never gave interlude to his nonstop chatter. From take-off to touchdown, his piercing voice rang in my head, violently jerking me awake. He had obviously never learned the rule "Silence is Golden", and I wasn't the one to teach him because his dad was built like Van Dam and I felt stringy from a lack of sleep.

Despite my being dog tired, the adventure continued in Bologna. As promised, a transport awaited us and 12 others (fellow refugees of the airwaves) at the airport. We were all told to stay at the baggage claim by wiry Italian woman with a clip-board, so we did. Then she left and came back with a walkie-talkie and told us to move upstairs, so we did. She then told us to wait on benches until she knew what was going on, so we did.

After a while, we were led outside to a Mercedes Mini Bus. Our luggage was loaded by the sweaty driver and we were off.

The ride was incredible! We zipped through mountains, into small cities, and out onto open fields where we saw Italian villas with vineyards.

We made it to Florence in good time. I give credit to the driver, who managed to average 90 mph while dodging cars and navigating the spindly mountain roads. He dropped us at the airport and sped off into the heat of the Italian afternoon. We watched him go, then u-turned to find ourselves outside the car rental.

Soon we found ourselves behind the wheel of an Alfa Romeo with vague instructions on how to reach our hotel. The man at the counter had outlined our route, but neglected to tell us how to get on the A1 (similar to an American Interstate). So, after three near collisions in the roundabout, we mounted the A1 with our course set for the hotel.

"The Grand Hotel" is properly named, and I recommend staying there if ever your in Florence. However, we had little time to gawk as we were hungry, so we threw the stuff in the room and went out for some lunch and a stroll. We had arrived. Walking along the cobblestone streets we saw shopkeepers smoking cigarettes, beautiful women on cell phones and street vendors selling art prints. My dad pissed off one of these vendors when he unknowingly walked on some of their prints. But who could blame him? He was engrossed with the beauty of the city and forgot where his feet fell. As we sat in a small cafe we munched Paninis and sipped beer while watching the afternoon haze settle over a bustling Florence.