After months of dreaming and scheming about a trip to Italy, its finally happened. Christie called me up one day in August at my office. She asked if I wanted to move to Florence. I am not sure she really expected me to say yes, but after a lightning-round of planning, here we are!
For me, this is a chance to see the birthplace of the Italian Renaissance, where the western world woke up after the Black Plague, dusted itself off and reinvented itself almost completely. Its also a chance to eat, drink and stroll around in the sun all day long without a care in the world, which is something I haven't been able to pull off since my senior year in college.
As a first post, I am taking this chance to introduce my blog. It's a working blog. It's a tool for recording my trip, composing what I observe, and reflecting on it. Christie is also keeping a blog, and if you've read it, you will see she is updating you on all the wackiness and adventures, both real and fanciful, on this journey. That said, if you care to comment here, I will be grateful for your input just the same.
During our first week here, Christie and I have been establishing our house, mostly. We had a few things to buy, we had rent to pay, and hot water to turn on. We have a language to learn! There are similarities to the U.S. and major differences. So, we're taking a look at it all and getting our rhythm. With Christie's help, we flew over on Delta's Business Class, and wow. That's the way to fly. The only way. Slept like a baby, and who wouldn't with a three-course meal and a couple glasses of wine? in a fully-reclined, wide padded chair. with a down pillow. and comforter. Anyway, it was my first experience and it was awesome. We flew to Milan's Malpensa airport, the name of which, roughly translates to "bad thoughts" or "evil hung" depending on the web-based translator you choose. Not sure why you would choose either to name an airport...
The bus to Milan left immediately and took an hour to arrive at the central station. I was warned about ticket vendors in several guide books, and this was my first experience. The guy at the ticket booth charged us a first class rate, which we requested, since it wasn't so much more expensive, but he gave us a second class ticket. So, with ten minutes before departure, I raced (with my backpack) back to the booth, gesturing wildly until he caught on, apologized gratuitously and reprinted the ticket. Finding the correct train was another adventure. Akin to a giant shopping spree where you search desperately down each aisle as time ticks down to zero.
We boarded the correct train at last, stowed our bags and plopped down on some chairs. Christie fell asleep - she's very good at nodding off as soon as we board a vehicle. That's a great skill for a traveller as long as yer not driving. I watched the city pass away into the country. It had been overcast and a bit rainy all morning, but once we left Milan, the landscape, dissected by rows of cypress in all directions, shown gold and green under a bright, crisp sunlight.
The conductor came through our cabin in search of our biglietto. He informed us that we had a second class ticket and we were in first class. It took a couple times, but after my experience with the vendor at the station, that sinking feeling started creeping in on me before I understood the words I heard. Christie was awake now, and after a brief consultation with each other, and our aching backs, we pulled out our credit cards in a desperate plea to stay seated. Cash only, though. We prepared to pack up and move forward, until he called the train captain, who apparently has a portable card-reader. The conductor wandered off to find the captain and that was the last we heard of him. :) :D woo-hoo. Next stop: Florence.
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