Bug Unit

I have recently returned from swanning around the continent. Swanning felt good. Returning, strangely enough, felt just as good. But more on that later.
One of the perks of being *essentially unemployed* is that you can just go and do stuff without taking leave. This is what I did, so that I could laugh in the face of all the people with real jobs. Basically, it is a slippery slope towards claiming the Dole and hair curlers.
Anyway, I went off to beautiful Tuscany for seven great nights, caught up with old friends and newer old friends and had a jam, except for the warthog. I will tell you all of the warthog later, but the thing has a nasty streak, and was mocking me. If you are getting mocked by a bronze warthog then you are probably not all that close to achieving all your lifelong dreams, or maybe you are closer than you ever thought possible. It really just depends what your lifelong dreams are, and if they involve being mocked by a warthog, who am I to judge?

Ok, so the trip started really early two weeks ago on Wednesday. I got up at 2 am to pack, and was in the taxi at 2:45 to get to a 3:30 bus to Prestwick. I arrived at Prestwick at 5:30 to get the 7:10 flight to Pisa. From Pisa I then waited 2 hours for a Terravision bus to Firenze SMN (the main train station in Florence). Then I had to get myself to Figline (believe it or not, you pronounce this word fee-lee-nee, and it officially becomes the only name in the world with a silent ‘G’) Valdarno, a scenic town about 40 minutes outside of Florence. I did this by grabbing Italian people, pointing at my ticket, and speaking slowly i.e the international language of travellers who want to look like idiots. Luckily I found a ridiculously pretty Italian girl called Camilla who spoke excellent English, and kindly took me through every step of the process, including helping me validate my ticket in the wierd yellow box next to the train. She was also getting off at Figline, and took me under her wing, which was lucky, because ten hours of travelling combined with a dying cellphone battery (I still needed to get to Simon, tell people at home where I was and maintain business contact with the UK) was making me a little edgy. So Camilla ushered me onto the train, where I was able to appreciate for the first time one of the tru-isms about Italy: evryone is better looking than you, thinner than you, and wearing better sunglasses. Luckily I was tired so I only managed one or two girly up-and-downs at people before losing interest.

I arrived in Figline Valdarno which is almost straight out of some film about Tuscany. It has those windy streets and green hills, with the Italian alps on the one side, and some genuine villas. I was staying with Simon, a friend I met while at M-Net last year. He is currently in Figline working on websites and drinking at the campsite bar. He lives on the first floor of a 700 year old villa, and thus, I can now say that I have stayed in one too. I had a nap while he finished off work, and then we had some anti-pasti and chianti in the villa courtyard as the sun went down. It was totally cool. We then went out for dinner and a bottle of chianti at the campsite restaurant, then a glass of chianti at the campsite bar, and then we made the Decision That Was A Bad One, namely to check out the campsite Discotecque (sp?). Soon I was bellowing ‘Uno Corona/Jagermeister/Chianti per favour’ at the poor bartender, and Italy’s camping community was being treated to my gumboot dancing and Simon’s Impi stepping. I would love to say that the cultural exchange was a success, but judging from my head the next morning, it is pretty safe to say I wasn’t the best cultural ambassador. Bygones though- I had a great night.

The next day I read and soaked up the 27 degree weather, and then Simon, Rani (one of his new colleagues, a girl who speaks about 5 languages fluently and is the nicest person ever) and I went to dinner in Florence. Now, to say that Florence is beautiful is understating things a bit, but understatement will have to do. Basically, it is a city of yellows and reds and blues set against scenic hills and along a green river. It is really beautiful, and so different from anywhere I have ever been before. I was absolutely enthralled- a feeling that wore off briefly when I forked out 17 euros for two ice-creams, but returned as the sun went down and the city lit up with sounds and sights and smells and minstrels. It was great. After dinner Simon and I headed back out to Figline, almost missed our stop, had a campsite bar chianti and resisted the urge to go discotecqueing again, and went to bed.

Friday was a bit of a crazy day. My cellphone had now died a final death, and I needed to get hold of Tanja and Natasha to meet them somewhere in Florence, and I was trying to get hold of a company in Edinburgh to see if I had a second round interview with them. Oh, and there was a train strike. It all worked out fine in the end though, since I was stuck in Figline, Tush and Tanja were stuck in Ancio after returning from Croatia, and once the trains got running again it was a simple journey to Firenze Santa Maria Novella to meet up (them by train and me hitching a lift with Rani). The scariest part of the whole journey for me was a window washer (yes, they have them in Italy too) who started bashing on Rani’s car window outside the train station and telling her that she would break her window unless Rani gave her 2 euro. Today’s lesson: everyone needs to stop bashing South Africa and understand that extortion happens everywhere. At least in Jozi it is only 2 rand, not 20.

Seeing Tush and Tanja in the middle of a busy bus station in Italy was very very surreal. It is always wierd to see people outside of their natural surroundings, but we still hugged and yay’d and did all those good things. We then went back to Tanja’s mom’s house to make tea, which was equally surreal, simply because I have yet to find a circumstance in which Tush and Tanja can’t be comforted by a good cup of tea. We chatted until late and then went to bed.

We woke up on Saturday morning and prettied a bit before heading into Florence to look around. Both Tush and Tanja are incredibly generous people and had lists and lists of people that they had to get presents for, so most of our exploring took the form of looking around markets and shops seeking out the perfect gifts. I am stingy and bought no presents, so I had more time to take in the amazing scenery. We wandered into and out of shops, bargaining and laughing and eating ice-cream. It was great. Also, the Cupola is officially my favourite building in Florence. You can just look at it again and again, and the more you do the more you are amazed by the intricacy of it. That people put so much work into a church is absolutely incredible.

On Sunday Tanja, Tush, Stefi (Tanja’s brother) and I headed out to go and see Pisa. Pisa is a small city about an hour outside of Florence. It is also home to the famous Leaning Tower of Pisa, so named because it is situated in Pisa and as a result of limestone, poor building and shifting ground, it leans. A lot. It is a building that is so mediated, it was cool to see it in person. It really does lean, although it isn’t as tall as it always looks in photos. The church that it was going to be the belltower for is also incredibly beautiful, all built out of the same white stone. We resisted the urge to have photos of us pushing against the tower, and compromised by doing leaning pictures instead. Double the fun for half the cheese- everybody wins. The other highlight of the day was watching Natasha bargain an item from 25 euros down to only 8. She has a real talent for it, whereas both Tanja and myself seemed to only get the stroppy shop assistants who had no interest in making a sale.

We spent most of Monday and Tuesday wandering around Florence, buying presents and taking everything in. A high point, literally, was going up to the top of the Cupola, and having a 360 degree over the rooftops of Florence. The low point contained within the high point was having to climb up 400 odd steps behind thirty school children. Trust me, claustrophobia is being in a tiny tunnel high up with only school children for company. At least the view was worth it.

Other memories that will always hold a place in my heart are as follows:
1. Being called a long nosed Pinocchio liar (phrasing exact) by a stallholder, after I told him that my friend had bought a certain jersey for 8 euros.
2. Being rejected by a bronze warthog. There is a tradition in Italy that you have to put a coin in this warthog’s mouth and rub his nose if you want to make sure that you come to Florence again. I tried three times, each time the coin fell out of the warthog’s mouth onto the paving. The third time the coin fell into a dirty puddle. Basically the warthog doesn’t want me to come back. I am getting over it, only because I think pitting your wits against a bronze Italian warthog is taking away from important red pepper hummus time.

So now I am back to real life in Edinburgh, which is actually amazing, since spring has officially sprung and it is all green and beautiful with blossoms. Blossoms is a cool word.

Summary of Italy:
1. Beautiful. Beautiful beautiful.
2. Good shopping, but get good at bargaining otherwise you could end up being called a long nosed Pinocchio liar.
3. Buy ice cream if you feel like a millionaire.
4. Italian men do stare more than ordinary men, but this is actually flattering considering that everyone in Italy is
5. Thinner, prettier, and with better sunglasses