A Renaissance Hometown Rendering

The gray tiled floor is somehow wet. I am soaked, but have yet to step a foot inside. Looking above, the ceiling shows no sign of water. The computer—this computer sitting on the tiny desk in front of the mirror is dry. I walk in with the water squishing between my feet and my Chaco’s. Hopefully the watercolor paintings managed to stay dry. Thunder keeps roaring and it sounds the same everywhere so it doesn’t matter that we’re in the home of the badass Renaissance boys. Florence is much smaller than any of the other three cities we’ve been in and feels a bit like a concoction between a college town, a fancy mall and a cultural powerhouse. Elizabeth is out at one of the museums—not the one with David, as we saw him yesterday—I’d give you the name but she has the book. I have my beer and just polished off a small salami and cheese sandwich. It was quite small, but perfect for an afternoon delight. I am lucky, yes it is raining like mad, but my beer is cold and the salami is neither warm nor greasy! I sit on this Ikea stool (just like the green ones LP and I have, though this one is black) in my boxer briefs (best of both worlds baby—not too much boxer, not too much brief) and notice the floor is now almost dry. Behind me my pants, which would be called capris if I were a woman, dry on the silver ladder. No painting or repairs taking place, just a silver bunk bed, also from Ikea. The ladder serves as a drying station and the top bunk is like a storage compartment. The bottom is a double and accompanies me and me lady just fine. This is now the fourth place we’ve stayed on our trip and it appears as if we’re on the Ikea hostel interior design tour. With the possible exception of our place in Madrid each room has been practically furnished by the big yellow and blue. The smell of salami still hangs in the room a few minutes after I finished the last bite. It mixes with the damp and musty smell of a long rain. We’ve got some room to spread out in this place and have done so. Our backpacks rest against the three wooden lockers, think a six foot wide armoire. In front of that it might appear as if we were trying to sell shoes in the place as three pair sit in an arrangement that could pass as a window display. The desk I sit at has quickly resembled one at our home: Top Left—a bag of toiletries Top Right—random papers/empty bottle Bottom Left—small calendar Bottom Right—room key, clippers & pen There’s much more that litters the desk, but I am not able to try and capture the spacial setup if I named the bag of vitamins, toothbrush and dental floss, moleskin notebook and room key. I would however like to mention that the nail clippers are a pair of AS Roma clippers that also serve as a keychain and bottle opener. Looking up I see the rain still falling. It is now a quiet rain that I can keep track of in the mirror. I am happy that I only waited a few minutes at the train station after buying tickets to La Spezia for tomorrow. Liz and I split up around 2:30—she heading to the not too long line for the museum (the name still escapes me) and me heading to the train station to check on tickets and then back here to do this. Later I should check on a few places to stay for the end of our trip. Tomorrow we will end up in Cinque Terre and either hike all five villages or do that the following day. It will be nice to get away from the cities. We have gradually removed ourselves being in the not too large Florence, and will do so fully tomorrow. We have hikes and beach bumming, beer drinking and wine sipping in our future. And if we’re lucky—at least if I am lucky—I’ll find a place to watch the US play in the Confederations Cup Final on Sunday. The floor has now dried and so too has my Tiger Beer shirt. The capris are still in the process and the Moretti beer will provide a few more thirst quenching sips. If our connection to the Internet (thanks Al Gore) is actually working I will post this and try to inquire on a few places to stay for our last few days. If not I will go back to my book that my brother in law so wisely recommended. With a dry floor, drying pants, a hint of sun and a little more beer it seems either way a winning situation. (Stay tuned for the Bullfight story—Notes galore in my moleskin—still working it out in me head. Here’s a quote from LP, “We just saw six bulls die. And possibly one horse.”)