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Finally in Firenze!

After a 2 hour plane ride from Milwaukee to Detroit, a 3 hour layover, 6 hours of Northworst Airlines to fix a simple problem and get us another plane, 8 hours from Detroit to Roma, Italia, 2 days bumming around Roma, and a 2.5 hour train ride, I’m at my home for the next 4 days, the Pensione Ottaviani.  Being in the Shadow of the Duoma de Santa Maria Nouvella, I’ve only gotten to see the city briefly, having walked a few blocks and gotten an amazing plate of Lasagna with another member of the ACM program, Nathan.

I didn’t know it was possible, but I miss Roma already.  The beautiful city, the beautiful people, was all so overwhelming, and the energy of the city was incredible.  Once I got off of the train from the Airport to Termini Station, the main train station in Roma, I made a call home and found a hostel.  Soon after, I met a group of English-speakers (Michael and Craig from Sidney, Australia, Choaimi from London, England, and John from Texas).  We got pizza e bierre and ate it in Vatican City, under the stars in St. Peter’s Square.  We swapped each other’s information and slang from our respective homes, and then headed back, calling it a night.  I then met a girl from Vegas who had just gotten back from a week in Turkey, which she had followed up with a week at a yoga camp in Sicily, which she used a houseboat she rented to sail to.

The next morning, I was ready to take in more of Roma, and I jaunted over to Trastevere, which is an area across the river, to meet up with some friends who I met on the plane.  Their names are Liz, Carmen, Zach and Erica, and they all attend John Cabot University.  (They then introduced me to Boots, Alex, and all of Zach’s roommates).  I toured Rome with them, and they kindly allowed me to stay the night, just to do it again today.  After a nice walk back to Vatican City, Zach, Sean, Harry, Heraldo and myself saw the Castle and then got into line to get into the Basilica.

After around 15 minutes of being in line, we get past the metal detectors and arrive to the guards (not the Swiss Guards, but the Catholic tools who check if you have sleeves).  I was wearing a wife beater, and they told me that I could not come in.  Being the only one of the group who could not get past the line, I looked for a woman to loan me her shall, as all the woman with short skirts and sleeveless shirts were simply wearing scarves around themselves and getting in just fine.  However, when I get to the line, the guard says again, in broken English, “No, no t-shirto, no.”

The others then decide on a brilliant plan where Shawn goes into the bathroom, takes off his shirt, Harry brings it out to me, and I get in.  AND I GOT IN! As we proceeded out of the bathroom, Sean wearing his original shirt, and me again only in the wife beater, the same guard yells, “Hey! Hey! Oy! HEY! T-shirto! OUT-A!”  We then realize it’s a fruitless caper, and we head out back to the apartment.

After a rushed departure, and making a train I never thought I was going to catch (always buy bigliettas/tickets at least one day in advance), and meeting one of the nicest people on the train, I got to Firenze!  I’m now sitting in my room, listening to the Italians in the café across the street jabber in such a melodic tone, and the Americans (so many Americans here in Florence) yell and scream at each other in slurred speech (Friday night at 1 in Florence…).

Caio!

P.S. Italian is so much more beautiful that I had thought it was!

P.P.S. Italian women are so much more beautiful than I thought they were going to be!

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