Still Not Dead in Italy
Rumours of my demise have been greatly exagerated. I am alive and in Trieste, Italy. Way to suck, UK terrorists. You missed me again! I am terrorism-proof!
In my last post when I said that Florence would be filled with cat-hittable art, I had no idea how right I was. From anywhere you stand in the downtown area, you have some piece of damn superb art and/or architecture within six feet from you. Most of it involves big naked men with plainly visible penises. I have pictures.
The brother and I spent the day in the downtown area just seeing the sites, drinking the coffee, and being pretty darn awesome if I do say so myself. I'd speak at length about the wonder that is downtown Florence (and the ridiculous disparity in prices between the tourist sections and the real Italian sections (add five bucks onto everything if you're within a kilometer of the Plaza il Dumo)) but pictures will speak more loudly on that count. Again, they will be up once I'm in Ireland and have my laptop back.
We caught a night-train from Florence to Trieste last night, which means we had the joy of catching our train from Campo Marte, a train station so far flung off in the boonies of Florence that the homeless people barely know it's there. Despite its godforsakenness and general sketchiness, I loved it because it was quiet, cool, and had the most amazing coin-opperated, self-cleaning bathroom I have ever seen. It washed the floor between visits, and at only twenty cents is easily worth the price of admission. I drank coke and water just so I could justify going again. Plus, after I paid sixty cents earlier in the day for a regular bathroom cleaned (poorly) by a weak human, I truly appreciated the value. A third of the price, cleaned regularly by unerring machinery, and doesn't smell like shit? This bathroom is superior to the human-administered counterpart in every possible way. I for one welcome our new robotic bathroom overlords.
I discovered that the second least restful substance in the known universe (behind airplane sleep) is second class night train sleep. One of the guys in our cabin had his entire life with him in garbage bags and his feet smelled like Satan's sweaty groin. He was eventually replaced somewhere around Venice with a guy that was very friendly but tragically misinformed. He told us that we were at Trieste a solid hour before we got there. He later appologized for this when he discovered his error, but we appreciated the effort anyway.
In Trieste now, on the eastern tip of northern Italy and right on the Mediterranian. We're going to try to make it to the biggest cave in the world and a coffee museum today. This is a big maybe, though. We were told that August is high season for tourism, and to a certain degree that is true here: everyone here has gone on holidays, so a lot of stuff is closed. Stuff like the local pool, where we were hoping to shower today. Not only is it closed, but they drained the water too. We couldn't even go if there was some kind of swimming emergency. The cafes are all open, thankfully. We've had coffee twice before lunch, and it's dirt cheap out here, no matter how close you are to the glorious architecture. Eat that Florence, you bastard.
Venice tomorrow. I look forward to falling in a canal.
In my last post when I said that Florence would be filled with cat-hittable art, I had no idea how right I was. From anywhere you stand in the downtown area, you have some piece of damn superb art and/or architecture within six feet from you. Most of it involves big naked men with plainly visible penises. I have pictures.
The brother and I spent the day in the downtown area just seeing the sites, drinking the coffee, and being pretty darn awesome if I do say so myself. I'd speak at length about the wonder that is downtown Florence (and the ridiculous disparity in prices between the tourist sections and the real Italian sections (add five bucks onto everything if you're within a kilometer of the Plaza il Dumo)) but pictures will speak more loudly on that count. Again, they will be up once I'm in Ireland and have my laptop back.
We caught a night-train from Florence to Trieste last night, which means we had the joy of catching our train from Campo Marte, a train station so far flung off in the boonies of Florence that the homeless people barely know it's there. Despite its godforsakenness and general sketchiness, I loved it because it was quiet, cool, and had the most amazing coin-opperated, self-cleaning bathroom I have ever seen. It washed the floor between visits, and at only twenty cents is easily worth the price of admission. I drank coke and water just so I could justify going again. Plus, after I paid sixty cents earlier in the day for a regular bathroom cleaned (poorly) by a weak human, I truly appreciated the value. A third of the price, cleaned regularly by unerring machinery, and doesn't smell like shit? This bathroom is superior to the human-administered counterpart in every possible way. I for one welcome our new robotic bathroom overlords.
I discovered that the second least restful substance in the known universe (behind airplane sleep) is second class night train sleep. One of the guys in our cabin had his entire life with him in garbage bags and his feet smelled like Satan's sweaty groin. He was eventually replaced somewhere around Venice with a guy that was very friendly but tragically misinformed. He told us that we were at Trieste a solid hour before we got there. He later appologized for this when he discovered his error, but we appreciated the effort anyway.
In Trieste now, on the eastern tip of northern Italy and right on the Mediterranian. We're going to try to make it to the biggest cave in the world and a coffee museum today. This is a big maybe, though. We were told that August is high season for tourism, and to a certain degree that is true here: everyone here has gone on holidays, so a lot of stuff is closed. Stuff like the local pool, where we were hoping to shower today. Not only is it closed, but they drained the water too. We couldn't even go if there was some kind of swimming emergency. The cafes are all open, thankfully. We've had coffee twice before lunch, and it's dirt cheap out here, no matter how close you are to the glorious architecture. Eat that Florence, you bastard.
Venice tomorrow. I look forward to falling in a canal.
posted by B-Boy Nothing at 4:12 AM
2 Comments:
It's interesting that after all the wonderful art you saw, all the works of beauty, all the historical monuments, items of splendo, ect., the one thing that sticks with you and is worth posting on your blog:
men's penises.
Says a lot about where your mind is ...
stupid humans.
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