I thought it would be interesting to see the famous city of Florence by myself so early one morning I took the local bus from San Vicenzo a Torre into the old City of Flowers.
The day was a Sunday--my "day off" at Il Poggio and it was high summertime--what I didn't know was that Florence would be jam-pack-sardine crowded with tourists and Italians.
To me, awfully, miserably crowded after my free and easy, quiet and spacious life at Il Poggio.
The city was interesting. The cathedral--huge--awesome construction and the other famous chapels and buildings--more than interesting--but horribly crowded.
I happened to walk by the famous Uffizi gallery--the place that contains Michelangelo's David and some other totally famous pieces of sculpture--but the crowds packing the entrance and the price of admission was really too much for a country boy like me so I took a pass and I think you might as well too since you can see copies here and there or look at the nice, quiet picture books in your local library without getting elbowed by the sweating crowds.
Maybe it would be better on a cold, rainy winter day.
I got tired and discouraged early in the afternoon but couldn't find my way back to the San Vicenzo a Torre bus stop so I asked a black-robed priest for directions. To my absolute astonishment he gave me a tongue-lashing like I have seldom ever had.
My Italian was not good but I caught his drift very clearly. He despised tourists--especially English-speaking tourists who could barely speak a word of correct Italian--and ME in particular!
We should all GO back to wherever we came from, or to Hades, and STAY there!
I guess what shocked me most was that he was a priest. In fact that is why I asked him--because I thought he might give me a more polite answer perhaps than one of his harassed countrymen--and maybe he did.
But instead of searching for the bus stop any more or asking anybody else for directions, I just hiked back to Il Poggio. I was used to walking.
Walking always did me good.
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