Saturday, March 12, 2005
Firenze
Wake up at an 4am to begin a journey under camouflage of 10m visibility fog to Prestwick. HP cautiously drops to 85mph. The commute to Firenze was dull, zero visibility out of the plane, lots of hanging about, and no overzealous customs officers with rubber gloves. But then arrival, and check-in. Prepare for tourist stomping of streets in no particular direction, seeking to get bearings. I never bother with bearings unless on my own, so this was an opportunity to follow, photo and feed. Florence is a small city that still smells of renaissance. Reeks even. Check this:

I had been told by many that Italy is an expensive place to visit - these people were either stupid, or travelling with partners who wouldn't be seen dead anywhere remotely proletarian. Fast food in Italy is easily available in the form of snack shops selling pizza slices, paninis and the rest. It's cheap, (less than 3 euro a pop) fuss free and of reasonable quality. Coffee and wine are everywhere. You see these guys pull into a coffee shop, order an expresso, stand at the bar, shoot it, and continue on their journey. A 45 second detour for a hit of caffeine. The first day was simple. Wander around, IT studiously noting every street with an Irish bar. Climbed some large hill:

Followed by dinner, then drinks in Irish bars. The drinking continued until about 2am, by which time we had gotten invited to a house party by some white rasta. Run off to another bar, and hang out with some American college kid called Joe Cameron, referred to as Camy. Not the abbreviation I would have chosen, but the guy was chilled enough to endure the drunken rants of two late twenty-something hobos and repeatedly use phrases such as "Solid" and "Fucking-A". Perhaps it was the Alaskan accent that allowed him to quote these phrases without turning his baseball cap sideways, yet still sound authentic.
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