A Walk with a View

Hey all,

went for my big walk in the country today. Was fun – from 11:30 in the morning till we caught the bus back to Florence at about 6:30 – all organised by this woman from the rowing club, one of those tiny feisty women who bustles about with this apparently inexhaustable supply of energy – they bustle here, they bustle there – like a normal human on fast forward.  I met her at the rowing club, which I entered through the discreet little door – a woman in the front office said “Bongiorno!!” in a tone of voice that changed “good day” into something like “F*** off immediately you dodgy looking tourist scum before I have you killed” but then I said I was there to meet the energizer bunny and she became all smiles. 

Anyway, waited around while TFW (Tiny Feisty Woman) changed, then the two of us walked from Florence to the town where we were meeting the rest of the group – who all took the bus there, having been horrified on previous occasions by the pace that TFW sets. Took a couple of hours and I managed to keep up with her - she used to be a marathon runner (and winner) and even won a few 100 k runs: completely unstoppable.  Once we met them we all wandered off to some huge cemetery – different to cemeteries in Australia as most of the people are buried in stacked shelves in walls, that is, it was mostly buildings. They read a few poems to each other from a translation of the Spoon River Anthology – one of them had a bilingual edition and kept passing it to me so I at least had some clue.

Then a long walk up into the hills and forests above Florence – was really lovely – five women in their 60's, one man the same, and me. TFW has some English, as did the man, so got a bit of an update from time to time as to what they were talking about, but it hardly mattered – they were all lovely and very interesting to wander about with – a couple of the women, once in the forest, started picking mushrooms, ignoring some and picking others with an expert air about them. They looked delighted with their haul, insisted I smelt them. Also collected some kind of nut off the ground and the odd herb. Another kept climbing up things and walking along the tops of walls six feet high.

The end point of the walk was this abandoned church – it had signs up which I assume were saying no entry, but they were not cowed and we wandered around the grounds looking for a way in – when it looked like I had found one and opened a door the chief mushroom collector said “Bravo!” and came over to break in with me, but it turned out to be a dead end store room thing. Really nice way to spend a day.

Back in Florence now at the communist cafe. They have good broadband and a couch, but I have been here a few times and I am getting sick of them – the waitresses, apparently in a rage over the fact that their careers as actresses or singers aren't working out quite as planned, are rude, sullen, unpleasant – almost as rude and sullen as waitresses in Brunswick St, or even Corsica. Don't need it. I think in future I will get take-away from somewhere else and sit on the footpath using their broadband instead. I am sitting on the couch now in the stage area, despite the fact that it is really upsetting the DJ (and his hangers on) who is trying to set up – they keep looking at me, but I am ignoring them and they aren't game to be as rude as the waitresses. I am hoping I put them off so that the performance is a disaster and no one ever comes here again. If I sound bitter, here is my most recent exchange with the help:

Me: “Ciocolato?” (the spelling might be wrong, but this is Italian for hot chocolate, or is at least me trying to ask for a hot chocolate in Italian)

Skank: “You have to choose which one you want.” (Note: she says this in English)

Me: “Ok. Can I sit down?”

Skank: “This is Italy! You should at least try to speak Italian!”

Seriously.  What a horrid person.  She should go to Corsica and work for the idiot who pretended to not know what I was asking for when I pointed at the vanilla ice-cream. Anyway, apart from that, a lovely day.

Photos. 1. Inside Rowing Club. It is a shame that cigars are not allowed. 2. The cemetary – TFW is, it goes without saying, the one in the bright orange. 3. Just in case you forget where you are. 4. The pointy tree, dead centre – if you zoom in you can see the Duomo right on top of it – was quite a walk. 5. Abandoned church from a distance. 6. This weird monument thing that none of us could quite figure out – wasn't a tomb, wasn't a memorial – had quotes in both English and Italian. 7. Abandoned church, up close.

Cheers, B.

PS - the DJ at the communist cafe?  ALL his songs were in English.  I felt like complaining to the waitress about it: "This is Italy - you could at least try to play some Italian music!"