Italy Day 1 - SF to Florence
San Francisco to Amsterdam
I made sure to get to the airport early. There was no way I was going to miss this trip. When I finally sat down on the plane, I ended up between an Indian guy on his way to Amsterdam for business and a little old Iranian man who must’ve been about 80. He did the usual – ask me where I’m from (no, where I’m really from. It was interesting watching him throughout the flight – he’d get up and socialize, get all excited when the flight attendants were serving food – and then complain that he couldn’t open the single-serving containers. I lost count of how many wrappers I opened for him. And then when we got ice cream, he complained that it was still frozen and too hard. The flight attendant told him he needed to let it thaw – and then got him another one. He’s a slick one. Most of the time, I’m out within five minutes of strapping myself into the airplane seat. Not this flight. I think I got about 20 minutes of sleep. Maybe it was the beer, wine, post-dinner Bailey’s and coffee?
Amsterdam to Rome
This portion of the trip was pretty uneventful. The flight was short and uneventful; I managed to get some sleep.
Rome Airport to Rome Termini
Somehow the guy driving the train missed the stop for the Termini. The train stopped for a few minutes, turned it off, turned it back on, got us to the station. There was an American couple for whom this was just another delay in what seemed a long string of delays just getting to Italy. Well, once we arrived, I realized I was going to miss my train to Florence. So, the adventure began – find the place to change my reservation, pay the 3 Euros, then find the train. At least the train ride was uneventful and comfortable.
Florence
I got to Florence and left the station, only to realize I didn’t really have a clue how to get to my hotel. I knew the address and that it was close to the station, but so were about a hundred other hotels. First task: Find the street – via Nazionale. No small feat, as the streets didn’t seem to be terribly well-marked – at least not with bright green signs. Luckily, after some wandering around and looking like a lost American tourist, I found it, checked in, showered, and made my way out to find some dinner. The guy at the front desk recommended Zá-Zá and it seemed like a pretty popular place with a bunch of seating right on the piazza. Of course it then took me a bit of waiting in line to realize that I had to get on the list and then wait in line. Dinner was quiet – at least at my table for one – but there were other groups in the basement with me who kept things pretty lively as I indulged in some pecorino cheese, rigatoni sorrentini, and tiramisú.
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