Crossing the Arno
Florence 244p
I arrived in Florence at 11 or so, tired from having had to wake up early for my train. Still it meant a long (and hopefully productive) first day in the city, which would be necessary since the city has a density of attractions rivaled only by the density of black currants in puddings. Unfortunately my hotel's check in time was 2p, so I left my bag with them and started to tramp around the city. I won't tell you about the attractions themselves, as it is information you can pick up in any guidebook, but mostly write about my impressions such as they are.
Whereas Viterbo was a small town, Florence is in every way a large city, which means that it has a significant immigrant population. It reminded me of Paris in that regard, the area around the central station with it's many north Africans, with the added spice of many Ethiopians, Eritreans and Somalis. As with my trip to Addis Ababa two years ago, I got a lot of hostile stares from folks positive that I was ignoring my heritage.
The other abundant species of human in Florence is the common tourist, who practically outnumber the roaches. Now I'm sure you're saying, "what's about you? Aren't you a tourist too?" To which I reply that I am not; I am a man interested in art and history and have come to Florence in search of those two things. This stands in contrast to the sunburned herds that clog the city streets and impede the entry into the galleries. Their only interest is to take snapshots of their friends and/or relatives making a pass at David's privates. I haven't mentioned the ubiquitous back packers, who slouch through town like snails, homes on their backs, leaving a slime trail of body odor mixed with cigarette smoke. It's a rather ironic contradiction that the healthy allure of the open road should be so intertwined with bad hygiene and habits like smoking - but I suppose it makes sense in a way since nicotine is an appetite suppressant. But I digress ...
I walked from piazza to piazza, soaking up the sights and setting my strategy for the next day. I crossed the Arno, and found myself a might peckish (perhaps I should take up smoking) and found a small trattoria tucked behind a take out place. I had one of the best meals I've had in Italy to day, ravioli florentine in a butter and sage sauce, accompanied by a cool caprese salad. It was exactly the right thing to have on a hot summer day.