And One for Adventure

And One for Adventure

            Today, we hopped on an early train to Firenze (Florence).  We were very glad to leave shitty-ass Sweet Hostel.  When we tried to check out, the owner, Bob, was passed out shirtless in the common room snoring like crazy.  Tried as I did, I was unable to wake him.  I went back to the front desk and asked Will what to do.  He pointed out a note from another guest that said “(name) checked out at 7h15.  Could not wake you.”  I left a note saying “Andy and Will checked out at 8h10.  Also could not wake you.”  We got into Firenze and hopped on a bus that literally dropped us off in front of our hostel (400m away from the door).

            It had been approximately 1,000,000 Kelvin in Sweet Hostel (no hyperbole or anything) so I was unable to sleep.  Air conditioning would have cost 12.50 Euro, only 1.50 Euro less than the cost of our beds.  I slept one hour.  I was tuckered out by the time we got to the hostel.

             We weren’t allowed to stay in our rooms, so we bike-locked our backpacks to our beds and head out.  We grabbed one 5.50 Euro pizza each and headed into Firenze.  We walked for a long time, looking for Santa Croce.  From Santa Croce, we hoped to find an antique flea market type thing so that I could find the sword I’m looking for.  We got very confusing directions from several Florentine people.  

            Eventually, we made it there.  Sadly, they were in the middle of a siesta and nothing was open.  We got a drink because it was crazy toasty outside (we may have been a little dehydrated).  After hanging out at the bar for a while, we decided to kill some time by going to Il Duomo.  We got directions from a dude who told us to go past one square and turn left at the end of the second square.  He was very insistent that we not be tempted by the first square.  He was almost dogmatic in his determination to make us avoid stopping in the first square.  Fishy, if you read this, we discussed getting you a postcard from the first square and sending you some Biblical text about resisting temptation.  We thought you’d find it helpful.

We got to Il Duomo.  The line was crazy long.  Will didn’t want to wait in the line, and I had already been inside once, so we didn’t go in.  At least it’s badass as HELL on the outside.

We walked around the whole Duomo, and then we went back to the antique fair.  They had a suit of armor.  I discovered it was made of aluminum.  There was no sword.  I was sad.  The closest we’ve come was that 1870 Prussian sabre, but it was shitty.  I really want a claymore or a hand-and-a-half or something big and two-handed like that.  That’d be great.

We knew that no real Italian restaurant would be open for dinner before 19:30, so we had some time to kill.  We were sitting outside the antique flea market, and I noticed a barber shop.  I had been desperately craving a haircut.  It’s been super hot outside, and my hair had gotten kind of long.  I bolted inside.  The barbers didn’t speak English.  However, I can get by in Italian because I speak Spanish.  Honestly, half the time, you just make the Spanish word sound Italian or drop a letter and it becomes the correct Italian word (e.g., seis à sei).  I managed to ask if their shavers had a numerical measuring system, like in America.  The barber said yes.  I asked for a “six” on top and a “four” around the side.  What I DIDN’T know was that this was all metric.  “Six” refers to “six millimeters.”  “Four” refers to “four millimeters.”  

  

I look like I just joined the Armed Forces.  I have no hair.  It is half a centimeter long at best.  Fuck it, it’s an adventure, right?  Nothing like bolting into an Italian barber shop and trying to wing it.  On the bright side, Will discovered that putting on his sunglasses makes it look awesome.

'Eyyyyyyy 

We then went to the Capelle Medici.  It was pretty neato, but I got yelled at for barely putting my feet on the marble wall we were sitting on.  We left and headed towards a restaurant that the Rough Guide to Europe on a Budget recommended.  It was called Trattoria Antico Fattore.  

 Since I was already on an adventure spree, Will and I decided to keep it going by ordering weird stuff for our entrees.  To start, we had fried mozzarella (not adventurous, but I said entrees, damnit).  It was delicious.  For our entrees, I had ravioli stuffed with who-knows-what covered in white truffle sauce.  I don’t eat mushrooms ever, but I figured whatever…ADVENTURE.  Turns out the ravioli was filled with potatoes, garlic, and something I didn’t hear.  Will had coniglio al diavolo (rabbit in devil sauce, according to the menu).  It turned out to be SPICY BUNNY.  For dessert, I had a chocolate soufflé, and Will had panna cotta.

Everything was fucking delicious, and you should be sad that you didn’t get any.  VERY sad.  Like crying.  Now.

Will’s Corner

            I may be a bad person for this, but sometimes I really love the Metric System.

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 Dear Joe,

            Don’t be like a candle in the wind.  Be more like a napalm strike in the jungle.

Love,

Will and Andy