Italy brings a little change in that Libby is really looking forward to it, and me, not so much. Our wake-up-and-get-off-the-coach song, Jubel by Klingande, comes on, and we scramble to find clean toilets and our first pasta in Italy. Both are disappointing.
We pass through Carrara, and find out about the famous marble that is quarried there. We find out that Italy is famous for more than pasta and wine — motorways, cable cars, trains, batteries and even the humble reading glasses are all Italian inventions.
We stop at Pisa, and after an hour and a half of avoiding the selfie-stick and designer bag wielding men, admiring the Leaning Tower and refraining to take that photo, we make our way on to Florence (or Firenze, as it's referred to by the Italians). The landscape has changed drastically in the last few days – from the bright yellow canola fields of France, to the lush towering Swiss Alps, to the flat lands, earthy colours and wineries of Italy
Florence is shabbier than our previous cities, and I miss the biting mountain air terribly. Our hotel room is not that great, but we're surprised to find three beds in our room. Two singles joined together to make a double, and a single one by the window. Since I got to pick my beds in Paris and Switzerland, we decide that Libby should get the double bed. I flop on my single by the window, and it smells funky. The decor is musty, and the shower curtain paper thin. Oh, and there's wifi, but not available to our group. Did I say I missed Switzerland?
The only good thing about this hotel is its location. I can peek out our hotel window and look at the famous Cathedral. We are right in the heart of Florence. Not wanting to stay in this room any longer than we have to, we drop our bags and gladly walk out for dinner. We pass the Cathedral, and the green, pink and white (Carrara!) marble makes it look otherworldly in the evening light.
The dinner is an optional Florentine steak for our meat lovers, but I'm told there's a veggie option. Not wanting to explore the city by ourselves just yet, we sign up. The steak is literally still bleeding. I don't know, and I don't want to know what such a thing could taste like. The caprese salad I receive is literally four pieces of tomato, mozzarella and basil leaves with a drizzle of olive oil. The ravioli is bland. I woefully hand over my 20 Euros, trying not to think of all the amazing options I would have had, had I not come to this dinner. I hate sounding negative, but I also hate spending money on disappointing food. We also get to try saltless bread, which tastes like what I imagine cardboard to taste like. Half the group goes to a karaoke bar afterwards, and a few of us walk back to the hotel.
The next morning, we have an included tour of Florence with a local guide. I'm not keen on going, but Libby wants to go, so I tag along. It looks like the tour guide is local indeed, but her accent sounds very mixed and interesting. The tour runs for about an hour, and we look at the Cathedral, Ponte Vecchio and Uffizi Gallery amongst other random things. We learn that Tom Hanks will be filming Inferno here in a couple of weeks (why not now, darn it). Libby and I ditch the group going for the leather presentation (included by Topdeck), which sounds like a marketing spiel.
We wander around by ourselves, and are struck by how compact and vibrant this city is. We can walk everywhere, and we do. We visit a little leather shop tucked away in a corner near the Cathedral, and I'm absolutely in love with the bright orange leather gloves that I buy. We are enjoying walking around, and after last night's dinner, we are not in the mood to go to the Topdeck included fiesta at the Tuscan winery, no matter how charming Christian, the owner, is supposed to be. We walk for hours and I fall in love with a trench coat at Zara. We finally decide to have dinner at a restaurant in Piazza della Signoria, where the food is good and they charge us 3.50 Euros for water.
The area surrounding Piazza della Signoria is brilliant. Here is a mass aerobics session, there's a glittering carousel going round and round, here are hawkers with their light-up toys that leap metres up in the night sky, and right over there is an open-air museum with ancient statues. You know, life. I can't believe I'm having dinner here, me, little old Gandhali who used to be afraid of crossing streets without holding someone's hand. Somebody pinch me?
We pass through Carrara, and find out about the famous marble that is quarried there. We find out that Italy is famous for more than pasta and wine — motorways, cable cars, trains, batteries and even the humble reading glasses are all Italian inventions.
We stop at Pisa, and after an hour and a half of avoiding the selfie-stick and designer bag wielding men, admiring the Leaning Tower and refraining to take that photo, we make our way on to Florence (or Firenze, as it's referred to by the Italians). The landscape has changed drastically in the last few days – from the bright yellow canola fields of France, to the lush towering Swiss Alps, to the flat lands, earthy colours and wineries of Italy
Florence is shabbier than our previous cities, and I miss the biting mountain air terribly. Our hotel room is not that great, but we're surprised to find three beds in our room. Two singles joined together to make a double, and a single one by the window. Since I got to pick my beds in Paris and Switzerland, we decide that Libby should get the double bed. I flop on my single by the window, and it smells funky. The decor is musty, and the shower curtain paper thin. Oh, and there's wifi, but not available to our group. Did I say I missed Switzerland?
The only good thing about this hotel is its location. I can peek out our hotel window and look at the famous Cathedral. We are right in the heart of Florence. Not wanting to stay in this room any longer than we have to, we drop our bags and gladly walk out for dinner. We pass the Cathedral, and the green, pink and white (Carrara!) marble makes it look otherworldly in the evening light.
The dinner is an optional Florentine steak for our meat lovers, but I'm told there's a veggie option. Not wanting to explore the city by ourselves just yet, we sign up. The steak is literally still bleeding. I don't know, and I don't want to know what such a thing could taste like. The caprese salad I receive is literally four pieces of tomato, mozzarella and basil leaves with a drizzle of olive oil. The ravioli is bland. I woefully hand over my 20 Euros, trying not to think of all the amazing options I would have had, had I not come to this dinner. I hate sounding negative, but I also hate spending money on disappointing food. We also get to try saltless bread, which tastes like what I imagine cardboard to taste like. Half the group goes to a karaoke bar afterwards, and a few of us walk back to the hotel.
The next morning, we have an included tour of Florence with a local guide. I'm not keen on going, but Libby wants to go, so I tag along. It looks like the tour guide is local indeed, but her accent sounds very mixed and interesting. The tour runs for about an hour, and we look at the Cathedral, Ponte Vecchio and Uffizi Gallery amongst other random things. We learn that Tom Hanks will be filming Inferno here in a couple of weeks (why not now, darn it). Libby and I ditch the group going for the leather presentation (included by Topdeck), which sounds like a marketing spiel.
We wander around by ourselves, and are struck by how compact and vibrant this city is. We can walk everywhere, and we do. We visit a little leather shop tucked away in a corner near the Cathedral, and I'm absolutely in love with the bright orange leather gloves that I buy. We are enjoying walking around, and after last night's dinner, we are not in the mood to go to the Topdeck included fiesta at the Tuscan winery, no matter how charming Christian, the owner, is supposed to be. We walk for hours and I fall in love with a trench coat at Zara. We finally decide to have dinner at a restaurant in Piazza della Signoria, where the food is good and they charge us 3.50 Euros for water.
The area surrounding Piazza della Signoria is brilliant. Here is a mass aerobics session, there's a glittering carousel going round and round, here are hawkers with their light-up toys that leap metres up in the night sky, and right over there is an open-air museum with ancient statues. You know, life. I can't believe I'm having dinner here, me, little old Gandhali who used to be afraid of crossing streets without holding someone's hand. Somebody pinch me?
