Florence

Hey all,

Getting towards the end of the four hour train ride, which was a good choice – it has kind of ambled along, stopping at all these little places; the view out the window has been pleasant – there is something nice about traveling by train. Talking to K last night I realised my ticket did not have a platform, or even time, printed on it – figured out eventually that it was valid any time for the next 12 months, so got to the station early – stood in queue for ages only to be told just to jump on the train, no dramas, then after that read all kinds of dire warnings about validating the ticket – took a bit of messing around to do that. All unnecessary it would seem, as to date no one has asked to look at my ticket at all – I could have just jumped on. Assuming, that is, I am on the right train, which I can't be sure of for at least another 45 minutes. In a little air-conditioned cabin to myself, so quite pleasant to have a bit of privacy for the first time in a week. Feeling pretty chipper as the temperature last light plummeted all the way down to luke-warm, and the amiable snorer was less outrageous than usual. Promising looking clouds out the window at the moment – with any luck it may even rain.

Got rorted for coffee this morning near the station – but had too much gear with me to wander off and find somewhere cheaper, and even if that were not the case I almost certainly would have got myself lost, missed the train. Had one of my rapidly declining stock of duty free Cubans – locals seem to appreciate them at least – some random bloke walked past and in a thick accent said “Nice cigar! Nice!” before nodding several times in sincere approval – nicotine chewies, on the other hand, are outrageously expensive – they don't have the same passion for quitting - no Nanny Overlords.

Quite a few beggars around the train station, and even on the train, sullen gypsies who get on at one station, drop a bit of paper on the seat next to you while chewing gum and looking bored, sinister, miscellaneously pissed off, then come back later to get some coin. They don't seem to have a lot of success with the whole thing, or even to expect any. The street beggars (for the most part) have the air of professionals about them too, unlike the junkies who approach you for money in Melbourne, who at least really do look broke and homeless – many of those here seem suspiciously well fed despite the practiced expressions of woe, the plaintive looks, the moaning tones of voice – I went to give one money, got told off by a waiter for doing so. Default position back home is to give whatever coins I have on me – might have to change that here.

The “use whenever you want” tickets and the fact that I saw some teller machine thing that seemed to allow you to withdraw money against your ticket explains something that happened to me a couple of years ago. In an ill-advised fling of, even for me, stupid proportions, I bought a girl some roses online. It nearly ended up being a much bigger waste of money than the roses themselves were because about six weeks later my credit card stopped working – I called them up, and was told the federal police had blocked it. The reason was that some racket in Italy had hacked a bunch of websites, including the roses site, taken all the credit card numbers, and was using them to buy train tickets which they then exchanged directly for cash. They did not get around to using mine, just had the number – they were foiled in their wicked plot before they got a chance to use it. Moral of the story: if you are going to buy roses, deliver them in person. As an added bonus this will also allow you to fling them on the ground should she prove annoying.

It is now raining. I will be complaining about it shortly, no doubt, but for the moment: joy. In the suburbs of what I hope is Florence. Will add a bit more if and when I get to the hostel :)

Later:

Right train, possibly even the right section of the right train. Was pouring when I got in – hordes of Nigerians were lurking with umbrellas for people arriving from sunny places in t-shirts, making a killing. Found the hostel (fantastic – ceiling fan, big room, only 6 people in it – the toilets, with their seats and paper, are so luxurious I nearly took a photo) then wandered around a bit – it is so absurdly beautiful that it feels like it shouldn't exist. Could not stop smiling the whole time. Can see why T liked it so much. No wonder they all pay so much attention to fashion. The streets and the architecture make you feel under-dressed: for the first time in my life I realise I am a shabby embarrassment. At one point I almost tucked my shirt in.

Anyway, found the address to the language school – it has a plaque on the wall, so looking good – will head in there tomorrow and see if it seems good, and then spend the rest of the day wandering around.

Photos – a couple of views from the train, three photos all just around the corner from the hostel, and on, just around the corner from the Italian school. A significant improvement on whatever suburb of Rome I have just been staying in. Going to be hard work spending (only) a month here...

Cheers, B.