Not Quite the Tuscan Sun

I know, I know, I haven't written in forever. I have been writing, just not posting. But now, as I sit in the Dublin Airport for the next three hours, I figure I can take the time to upload some things.  Here is what I had to say Firenze: 

Florence 

Florence was not my city. I had dreams of wearing my floppy hat, a maxi skirt, and flip flops and enjoying some time under the Tuscan sun.  When we first rolled into the train station, we were surrounded by graffiti and run down buildings. Chelsea said sarcastically, "Oh God, we'd probably have to live here," knowing full well that we are both out of money after a long semester abroad. We laughed about it, until the train stopped. "Firenze Rifendi" the sign read. "This is our stop." 

Well, we thought, at least the apartment was cheap for the night. Maybe it'll be nicer than these, we do have a 10 minute walk. Well, with 20 pound backpacks and full purses, an easy 10 minutes walk easily becomes a troublesome 20 minute walk. We just kept reminding ourselves, though, that we were in Florence, Italy; that it would all be worth it. We met with our host, who was very nice and helpful and we thought, it's ok. We'll catch a bus into the city tonight and have a glass of wine in Florence and enjoy our time. We found a wine bar with wifi, and for a moment everything seemed great. Then we tried to book train tickets for the next day. 

Not only has ticket prices jumped significantly, there were only 2 possible times for departure. Either we had to leave Florence at 7 in the morning  or at 5 at night. Knowing we had an early flight out of Venice the day after we got into the city, I was really disappointed. "I guess," I finally said, "we'll just have to see Venice at night." But of course, as soon as we went to buy the tickets, the website wouldn't accept Chelsea's info. So we left the wine bar feeling utterly defeated. 

"Let's just go buy 3 bottles of wine and go home and make some pasta, Si we can get up early tomorrow and see as much of Florence as we can." So, we bought our 3 bottles for 10Euros and were ready for our wind down night. We found a bus stop that said it picked up for route 23, and that the bus would be there in 17 minutes. 17minutes later, the bus drove up, and away. Are you kidding me?! We just sat out in the fond for almost 20 minutes, at the RIGHT bus stop and it didn't stop?! Ok, we regrouped and walked down a ways to a different stop. Again, it said 23. Again, it showed the pick up time. Again, it drove past us. Fine! Fine, universe! We are not meant to take the bus. So we got a taxi. We spent 6 instead of 2, but we got dropped off at our front door. Fine. We'll just eat and go to sleep. 

"Ali," I heard, "do you know how to turn this stove on?" 

I went to the stove, flipped a few switches, and then figured out you had to twist the nob for the gas, and then push down the button for the flame. I couldn't see it, but I heard it. I figured it was just one of those new, sleek stove tops; the kind that turn red when the burner gets hot. "Got it," I yelled. 

Within seconds, what I thought was the stove top, but was actually just a glass cover, exploded, sending glass flying all over the kitchen. My instincts must have kicked in. Next because I don't remember turning the burner off, but when Chelsea came in the room, I was standing in front of the stove just staring. Shaking and staring. 

"What happened?" 

"I don't know. It just exploded." 

After cleaning the entire kitchen, on my hands and knees, we finally ate some pasta - at least the pesky stove cover was gone - and drank some wine.  Nothing, we decided, about this day went as we'd hoped.