Ciao Bella. Day 2.

I wake with a splitting headache, after having drunk for a near solid 12hours, thanks to the lovely manager - she says people always love her at night, hate her in the morning; the pounding in my head helps me understand why. Did I mention that not only did I drink all day, but they wouldn't let me pay for ONE drink all day, the staff here are amazing.

Along with the headache, a slight sinking feeling of anxiety starts to creep it's way back again, as the reality that I am jobless in a foreign country just is not going to ebb away as yet; not to mention, having talked with 'Linda':
  • There are no jobs at the hostel I am staying in which is what I was hoping for
  • Having a working visa soon to expire is not ideal, as the police are more frequent with their checks than they used to be
  • The main drinking area of Santa Croce, is currently going through a legal battle as such, and all bars have to close at 10pm (this is the area where I met an owner of one of the bars and was going to be my next attempt)
So it's not looking promising in Florence (I perhaps should have done a little more research of the current climate)...

It's not all bad though, Linda has got a lot of contacts, and is going to ask around for me. She is going to try other tour companies and hostels etc. So it's not over yet, and it is only day 2, I just need to relax and have a little faith.

I finally drag my hungover ass out of bed (being the only one left in the dorm room) and go for a walk. When I walk outside, I see a homeless woman sitting on the street, and the thought can't help flashing through my mind, a couple of weeks and this could be me...

The next thing I pass of course is a Gelateria; where the gentleman says "ciao bella", and I figure that even though its before lunchtime and I haven't had anything else to eat, gelati is just what I need to make me feel better. I walk around the corner and find this
 the Piazza della Liberta, which seems fitting somehow... and you know what, life just isn't that bad is it, I will make this work.

I finish my gelati, and carry on walking. Next stop, surprise surprise, another Piazza to eat some fruit, where an Italian man sits down beside me, and asks what I am assuming is "are you from Florence?" In Italian. ( I really need to stop looking local somehow, or learn Italian quick). We chat for a bit, his English is broken but better than my Italian, so I can't say much - that is until he says "ah, New Zealand, very beautiful, I would like to visit, but only to try you.." I am going to give him the benefit of the doubt here and assume that it is a translation error.. but just to be safe it might be time to say "arriverderci".

Within the space of 2hours walking, I have been called beautiful and sexy more than I have in my entire life. Have I mentioned how much I love this Country yet?

I had decided I was going to have a quiet night, 9.30pm I get back to the bar, after having gone out for a vegetarian meal with some of the tour leaders I had met the night before (one of whom has offered me his couch if I get desperate - the hospitality of everyone here is just amazing).  I look at my phone and see I have missed a message from a guy that is in town who I trained with. I hadn't realized they were in town and really wanted to catch up with him, so I have one beer at the bar to decide what to do. A pub crawl is about to leave the hostel, so I decide to tag along so at least I can head in with a group of people and perhaps catch up with my friend. I have also just met a lovely American girl at the bar is who is also going on the pub crawl and doesn't know anyone, so what the hell right? This idea is going to go one of two ways...

A couple of pubs later and a few (free) shots, I decide I need to take myself to try and find my friend. And surprisingly with my lack of navigational skills and a few drinks I find the bar easily - and no I don't have an i-phone, smart phone or any other kind of fancy will help you find your way home phone...I am going old school with a £6.99 fliptop samsung. Boom.

side note: maybe navigation skills are like playing pool, just the right amount of drinks, and you're a pro, but sober or too many, it just doesn't work and you end up looking like a twat.

Anyway, so I find my friend, say hi, but then they decide they are going home; so I'm left with the ultimate fork in the road, the battle between the sensible and reckless self... option a) go home and wake up with my memory AND dignity in tact, or 

 b) the complete opposite of a)...

Amazingly, sensible Mary prevails, not only do I decide to go home, but thanks to my friend also convincing me not to walk home by myself by paying for a cab for me (as I don't want to spend any 'unnecessary' money); I get back to the hostel, safe and sound and at a reasonable time, with all my belongings AND shoes (a story for another time). This is a win.

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