All of the O's. Day 5.


The Day:
I wake up early without a hangover (h2o hey, who would have thought...) which is amazing; but the 'early' part is more because it turns out that the room is actually really noisy when an entire room is getting up, packing their shit and leaving for checkout... so my thought that I have managed to sleep in because it is clearly a skill of mine, it not quite as on the money as I thought, perhaps it had something more to do with the coma induced sleeps I have been having thanks to a little friend of mine called alcohol.
Even though it is only 8am (yes this time does actually exist), I decide I may as well get up, checkout and move into Linda's room, as she leaves today, so I have her room for the weekend. Having done this and its still before 10am, I decide that I will go for a run (God its amazing what you can do when you don't have a hangover and are awake before lunchtime). I run past the Duomo and the Cathedrale de Santa Maria del Fiore,

through Piazza della Signoria, over Ponte Vecchio, down the river and back over Ponte Alle Grazie - so just your everyday run really (ok I just love saying this very nonchalantly, truth is I am still in awe of Florence). I stop and have some breakfast - some sort of beautiful little pastry delight, then walk myself back to the hostel, and there it is, the Cheshire smile is back!

I get back and have a nice long shower (just because I can), and then take all my clothes out of my backpack (also because I can), and reassess what I actually have - yip it still really is just 23kg of dresses and bikinis, but thankfully the weather has been beautiful, so this hasn't been a problem as yet. In fact every day I have been able to wear a new dress and skirt, which I have thoroughly enjoyed, as this is not something that can generally be done in London.

Another walk, another Gelati, more "ciao bellas". I walk through another Piazza where there are a lot of restaurants, and all beautiful Italian men outside trying to get you into their restaurant. One stops me, and I apologise saying I am not eating, he says "no it's fine, you don't need to eat, but I love my job because I can stop and talk to beautiful woman"; I don't mind stopping and talking to Angelo either as he himself is beautiful.

Side note here: All of the "o's"
So far the majority of all the Italian men I have met, end in an 'O'; there is Angelo, Stefano, Filipo, Antonio, Fabrizio, Matteo, Valerio, Nicolo... just to name a few.
It is such a cliche but I love it; they are all beautiful, charming, and most of them look like they just stepped out of an Armani advert. I am sticking to my rule, but it doesn't hurt to look, and be told I'm beautiful almost daily - a girl could get used to this. I walk back to the hostel, falling more and more in love with this city as each moment passes, it's hard to describe exactly, but Florence just seems to have so much flavour; even the little green man that signals you can cross the road seems to have swagger (it is the only place in the world I have seen the little green man with a slight lean), and I imagine there is a little green lady roaming somewhere around Florence with some pink in her cheeks!

The Night:
I head down to the bar, which is just the norm now, as it's either that or sit in my room by myself - so to the bar it is. I have a drink, and some staff join me. One of the guys standing at the bar looks familiar, but I am not sure if I have officially met him yet, so I invite him to join me, apologise saying I can't remember if we've met or his name, he just laughs a little...

Oh great, this looks like another one of drunk Tash's secrets, so I am assuming we met the other night when I was really drunk... I apologise, and ask whether I need to actually apologise for anything, he says no, then "vino veritas" (the wine makes you true/honest) and just laughs (I would have to say that from previous experiences, I would not necessarily agree with this statement, as dancing on a bar is not typically something I do, or want to do when sober... but drunk Mary normally has other ideas). I have a feeling there is more to the story, but don't ask as for now sober Tash is happy remaining ignorantly and blissfully unaware.

The owner comes up to me and says that Linda called and potentially has a job for me; now just in case many people actually start reading this, I am not going to say where it is (also the fact that I am basically writing that I will not necessarily have the correct papers to be working is not something I should really be advertising...but of course once I start working I will have the papers come through...) This role is basically an entertainment role at another hostel, liaising with tour companies, organizing parties, and having to drink with everyone every night... tough gig right? Doesn't sound like me at all... This is very exciting news, but also sad at the same time as I really am in love with Florence, and feel like part of the family here now, so it would be sad to leave. And this hostel is a bit further out of the main centre of this city, unlike here in Florence, where everything is central and a walk away. So I would most likely just be stuck there, not being able to go for a walk through the streets - which has become one of my favourite past times here in Florence. Don't get me wrong, it would still be fun, and I am so grateful to Linda for organizing all of this, but still a little sad nonetheless. It's very sweet though, all of the staff here are still trying to find me work so I can stay in Florence - one even rang his Dad to see if he would know the best options for me! (success I finally worked out the exclamation mark).

We carry on drinking, then head into the main bar, where there is soon an influx of Italians - as it is one of the staff - Stefano's birthday. Within seconds there are 30 shots lined up at the bar, and platters of food coming out (Italians really know how to do it right), and I realize I am the only non-Italian in the room, which doesn't bother me at all, I just keep smiling and saying "ciao".

More drinks, then the guy that I coudn't remember meeting asks if I want to go out in town, it is my first Saturday night in Florence so I probably should, though something tells me that I shouldn't put myself in a situation where it is just me and one other guy; another of the staff said he would join, which is better news, so I say yes. Moments later the other guys pulls out because he can't bothered, so I can't very well say no now... here we go.

We head to a club which is closed (I didn't even realize its almost 2am already) so we head to a pub for a drink, have a dance, then he tries to kiss me, I pull away and say sorry but I really don't want to get into anything with anyone.. then here it comes "but you were the one hitting on me the other night" (Fuk, once again, thanks drunk Tash); I apologise again saying I'm really sorry but I really am trying not to be with anyone - now try explaining to an Italian whose English isn't 100% that I don't want to be with a guy - "so you like girls then?"... No... confusion. "So you like guys, what is the problem?"... more confusion..."But it's your fault, you started it..." Shit, seriously how do I let myself get into these situations. He tries kissing me again, this time I kiss him back for a second before pulling away again, which only makes him angrier... oh dear I am a Grade A idiot. Anyway after a bit more arguing, me trying to explain that I really don't want anything, he walks me back to the hostel and we say goodnight, though you could cut the tension with a knife... I take myself to bed, and go to sleep scolding myself for yet another ridiculous situation.

Side note: my vice
Considering my major vice has always been drinking, I am not sure that putting me in a role where I have to drink every night is the best idea... It would be like sending someone that is addicted to McDonalds to work there - it is going to go one of two ways:

1. They indulge in every Big Mac, cheese burger and fries that they can get their hands on, spew on a customer, and dance on the counter (ok maybe not this last point, but you get the gist) before they finally get told that maybe McDonalds isn't for them..


2. Finally seeing what goes into McDonald's, the type of people that come in, and the state that they are in, puts them off McDonalds for life, or at least limits their daily intake to a moderate, socially acceptable level...

I am hoping for the latter, and more and more thinking that I still really need to write my own list of life rules, like those on the training trip.

random note: I may have worked out the exclamation mark, but the computer is now stuck on overwrite mode (I did warn that this was not going to be the best grammar etc, but I am also learning that I am clearly technology illiterate); so I apologise but I am not going to be able to go back and even quickly check spelling, grammar, or that my ramblings even make much sense as I just really can't be assed. Deal with it.

You may also like

No comments:

Powered by Blogger.
There was an error in this gadget