Footsteps. Tom’s soft footsteps are what I woke up to. And as I shuffled in the sheets silently with sleep still in my eyes, I saw him slowly folding his own sheets. He looked like he’d gone mad, the way he folded the blankets and pillow cases with the blankest of stares upon his face. What was he staring at? I looked. And it was nothing, at least nothing in particular.
I watched with my ears, listening to his movements. Until I felt too awkward to even do that, so I had to face my back to him because I simply couldn’t bare peeking anymore. It was not even ten minutes after I had done this that the ever-mysterious Tom walked outside the room down the hall… to his clothes… drying on the drying rack… that Mick had broken just hours before in a drunken indulgence.
I knew Mick was up too, because after he walked out, I lifted myself up a bit to get a look at her, then we made eye contact and telepathically told eachother OH EM GEE both with my wide eyes. Then, quickly getting in sleeping position again, I heard him begin to unclip his clothes, then CLANK CLANK! The entire drying rack collapsed to the floor and not even a second later, I heard the Mick’s muffled squeals of laughter. You know those moments when you aren’t allowed to laugh and it only makes it funnier? Yeah, well this was one for us.
Eventually, Tom was all packed and gone. Even when we had seen him in the common room while we were checking out, it was as if he was already gone. He simply didn’t acknowledge either Mick or I’s existence. It was only on his official and final walkout did he peep through his shadowed cap at me. Then, like a ghost, he was gone forever and Mick was devastated… I didn’t understand it either.
Before the trek back into Florence, Mick had to have us ride bikes in the countryside. And to no one’s surprise but hers, did we only make it to the end of the hostel’s property before she tapped out. So, there we were. Speed walking to catch at least one my coveted views of the area. I wish I had a grander reveal to Mick of the impeccable view, but instead it was more like just me announcing that we had to cross this particular street and bush in order to see it. And wa-la! I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it everytime, but no amount of pictures or video, or even how great the camera is, will ever do this place justice! And that in itself should be a crime. Naturally, we spent more time than we had there, so we were forced to speed walk up all of those rolling Tuscan hills, and hope we weren’t going to miss our bus. Though, mostly I was just hoping the Italians would do what they do, and be twenty minutes (or more) late to everything. Yes, I know. This is my kind of country. Thank goodness the bus driver was thirty-one minutes late. Lucky.
The bus ride was as beautiful as ever, and also bittersweet. It was bittersweet because I knew it needed to be savored. Every moment. Every hill. Needed to be savored. Because Lord only knows the next time I will see this sight. Hopefully not too long, I cannot stay away from Italy for too long or else I’d probably die or something dramatic like that.
We had the same issue, but not as intense, when we arrived back in the city of Firenze. Rain and not knowing where we were exactly going. But we caught some gelato! It was Mick’s first experience to which she had no comment on the dish.
Plus Florence Hostel was big and had everything you could think of from a spa, to bar, to pool, everything. They had everything except for a receptionist that knew how to do her job. We had to make three trips up and down a flight of three stairs because she didn’t tell us how to access the room, told us a wrong room number, then didn’t tell us that the room card is what powers the room… Frustrating.
That afternoon we spent trying to see the David, only the line looked four hours long and we just didn’t have the daylight on our side to invest that much time with 4% batteries. Instead, we saw the Duomo. It hit me like a flashback, seeing it again reminded me if the first time I laid eyes on its intricacy, detail, and opulence. And my breath caught. Mick was a victim to its beauty too. We sat at a cafe and stared at it, while also drinking Spritz and people-watching in much more likeable weather.
After an hour or so, I decided we had to see the view of the entirety of the city. And since the Duomo was booked for the next two days, our only option was the Bell Tower. I was happy for the trek because I knew the view was well worth the climb. Mick on the other hand, was not. The climb was nearly 500 steps. And let me clear about this and make this distinct differentiation: Italian steps are not normal steps. These steps are steep, tiny, uneven, and ancient. In other words, the trek ended up feeling like a thousand. Reaching the peak, made it all worth it. There’s a reason they call it the City of Red and so many household names have roamed these cobblestone streets. Lucky for us, the way down was easier, but definitely scarier because we are both certified clutzs. We made it eventually by holding each wall and taking an eternity for each step. We didn’t feel like getting sent to the hospital for tripping down centuries-old stairs that day.
Well, both of our phones died. We had no way of knowing or going back to where the hostel was except the old fashioned way, and that is going off of sheer gut instinct, intuition, and a good old map. We did good looking like iconic list tourists on our search throughout the city. It took us until nearly nightfall to find the hostel….
Luckily that evening was a ball. Truly, it was. We got dressed and decided we were gonna spend a night out on the town. Except, we were two young foreign girls in Italy and I was not about to put Mick and I in that position. So, I opted to have us go to the hostel’s bar first to formulate a squad so that we could go out on the city in a little safety net. And that’s where we met Tiana and Diana. These ladies were from California and they were beyond hilarious. Seriously, especially Tiana she was the single friend and she had us all rolling on the floor laugh. And to top this all off? The bartender liked me so he got me discounted drinks and a free round of shots for the girls. Oh, it doesn’t even end there. We heard all about Diana’s love story and saw her inspiring wedding pictures, then this guy who we named Cody did his dance. I don’t know how to explain this dance without be offensive so I’m not even going to bother, just trust me, it was free comedy! And he was all over Tiana.
Unfortunately, the bar closed a lot earlier than expected and no one was ready to submit to the night. So we didn’t. A crowd of foreigners, us in the middle, parading through the streets of Florence just trying to not let the night go wasted was a blast. Our army of fun eventually found the perfect place to take up camp, an Irish Pub. God, I love the Irish. I must go.
Anyways the night ended in blur. A blur of wandering the streets, sipping drinks, ordering more drinks, and saying stupid drunken things (Mick).
Stumbling to the room at night, a wave of emotion overcame me. I missed my boyfriend. While videochating him in the hall, I was crying hormonal tears or drunken tears, neither of us could pinpoint it. Lol. And to be quite honest with you, I don’t remember how I had gotten into bed after that, I only knew the next morning I woke up with makeup wipes all around me.
Thank you Florence. It was fun. You never disappoint. Ciao bella Firenze!
xoxo,
J
