Well, I got up at 3 this morning to catch the 4:35 train to Venice, only to arrive at the train station and find out there is an incredibly inconveniently planned train strike from 9 last night through 7 PM today. This obviously interrupts my Venetian travel plans, which I am not happy about. Even worse, the ticket office doesn’t open until 6 so I couldn’t get a refund on my ticket and I unhappily walked home, getting yelled at by drunk Italians the whole way. Now I understand that America is not loved in many parts of the world, but I would hope that if you hate it so much you could come up with a better insult than just yelling “hamburger” over and over again. Maybe all those angry people are balanced out by the people who are creepily interested in my hair. I can see how blonde hair would be an unusual thing at one point in time, but now that you can buy it at the drugstore there is no excuse for the looks/touches I receive (yes, strangers have randomly touched my hair.) On a related note, I had heard about Italian men being a bit more forward with women than you would find in other parts of the world, and from my limited experience I would say it’s true. I guess four girls walking alone at 4 AM on a Sunday morning might be asking for comments from the drunk men coming out of the bars (that apparently never close,) but it did nothing to help my mood. I had a nice rant to the other girls about how “at least in America when people strike they have the decency to show up and picket instead of just not coming to work,” but I suppose this just means I’ll have to come back to Italy again at some point.
Anyway, I just woke up from a nap (is it still a nap if it’s dark outside?) and am now trying to make some “It’s my last weekend in Europe I need to do something awesome” plans. Florence is really not a huge city so I’ve walked through a good portion of it, and I’d like to do something other than just wander today, but that might be what it comes down to.
Two days ago was the Festival of San Giovanni. Saint John (in English) is the patron saint of Florence, so it is one of the biggest Florentine holidays. Lots of museums and shops were closed (inconvenient) but it was so cool to be able to participate in the festivities. Early in the morning there was a procession that, as far as I can tell, replicated the tradition of all Florentine men donating wax to the church (I may be very, very wrong about this, because it sounds really bizarre now that I’m writing it down.) Later there was a parade with over 500 people dressed up in Renaissance clothing with horns, drums and flags. Their ability to march in step was questionable at best. Four different soccer teams were also in the parade, in preparation for the final game that evening. Adam and I stood next to a British couple who said that they watched the game a few years ago and that “It was closer to war than to football.” Last year the games had to be canceled because they couldn’t find enough men to play after it was announced that convicted felons were not longer eligible. Unfortunately we got to Florence way too late to get tickets so, we ended the night watching the longest fireworks display I have even seen. I’m trying really hard to take in and remember everything I’m seeing on this trip, and standing on a bridge with thousands and thousands of people watching fireworks reflect in the river is one memory I think I’ll be able to hold onto for a long time.
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