Florence

We got into Florence yesterday afternoon and were pretty wiped so we napped out. At about 8:45 or so, we decided to get some food and walked down the street from our hotel at the J & J Historic House (a full-on room for us to spread out in, located an easy 7 minute walk to the Duomo). We ate some amazing food at a swank restaurant on the corner who had pictures outside of various celebrities who had frequented there over the years. I think the conversation went something along the lines of "If George Lucas can eat here and stand to make that awkward face he makes when he's getting his picture taken, then, by golly! SO CAN I!"

The food was incredible. I'll try and find out the name of the place, but it was wonderful. The best damn minestrone I have ever eaten. No joke.

BUT! As we were sitting there waiting for our pastas, four girls walked in looking oh so lame. They sat and began talking English. East coast Jersey guidettes, if I'm not mistaken. They begin talking about The. Most. Asinine. Shit. Ever. And taking it soooooo seriously, Lupe and I couldn't even laugh at them.

Example:
... ahem...

Lady 1: (dead serious) "She had the most perfect eyebrows I've ever seen"

Lady 2: "I'm wondering if I should wear a skirt or go with, like, more of a casual business look?"

Lady 1: "Well, it is an interview in, like, fashion, so... they're going to be looking at your choices pretty seriously. They already know what they're looking for, so, just, like... be yourself but, y'know... fashionable."

Lady 2: "Well, I did wear the skirt the other day and I walked by this group of guys who really looked at me, y'know. And they were, like, business guys, not just, like, boys so... I mean, they really looked so..."

Lady 3: "Well maybe you should go with that then. But are you wearing that hat?"

Lady 2: "No, of course not. Unless... do you think I can wear this hat to the interview?"

Lady 1: "Absolutely not. You can't be that casual at an interview. You want them to take you seriously, right?"

Lady 4: (to the waiter) "Do you have a something like the pasta with Gorgonzola and pistachios but without the pistachios? Or maybe not penne? I only eat white pasta."

Continue for an hour or so.

Now, I don't mean to be judgmental...

Okay, that's a lie (as you all well know)....

But these ladies were something else. And then, as if that wasn't enough, another group of vapid people came in and at in the restaurant, also loud and empty and ridiculously embarrassing and, lo and behold, American.

We think to ourselves, "Is there a convention going on or something?"

We eat our wonderful food and try to ignore the rest of the very serious conversations about absolutely nothing and leave well satisfied to find a neat little corner bar called Eby's Bar where Eby, the old and grizzled burnout, serves a hundred different rum drinks from all over the world! It was amazing! We had this drink that I will absolutely have to show my friends when we get home: some strange concoction of coffee, kahlua, coke, and dark rum, started with a blood orange slice dipped in raw sugar and coffee grounds, slammed, shot, and finished with a slice of banana sprinkled in poppy seeds. Un. Believable.

Lupe and I got our drink on and met two gorgeous Russian girls; one of whom was there studying for a month; the other who worked in the city. The drunker of the two got very cozy with me while complaining in slurred Italian about the stupid, loud Americans who were leaving the bar. I commiserated with her as best I could, considering I couldn't understand a lick of what she was saying and it was obvious to her that I didn't speak any Italian. We laughed. It was grand.

The next morning, Lupe was still recovering from the rum and fruit slices we ordered to end the night and I went in search of some food. I found this great sandwich shop across from Eby's Bar where I stood in line behind a couple of American girls and in front of some American guy who complained the line was taking too long.

All around us, this entire time, I have been surrounded, passed by, and bothered by Americans. I mean, they are fucking everywhere! I keep thinking, "Is it spring break? There can't be these many people on vacation. What. The. Fuck?!" I ask Joe American "Hey, I noticed there are a ton of Americans everywhere I go here. What's up with that?" He tells me that Florence is an exchange student town: that a lot of kids learning Italian or studying abroad come to Florence.

Ohhhhhh! So that's why there are so many young, loud American youth wandering the streets and yelling in their ugly, slurred, rude, obnoxious way! I get it now!

Florence is an amazing city. Already, just casually wandering around, I have seen some amazing architecture and art, some wonderful shops, and eaten some great food. But there are Americans here. Lots of them. There have been more Americans here than anywhere else we have traveled to. And the experience has not been the most pleasant. They are, indeed, loud. They are, indeed, stupid. They are, indeed, a pain to be associated with. By sheer guilt of language, I am lumped in with them and it would be truly hard to bear... if I gave a shit about them. I want to apologize to every single local I meet. I want to say, "We're not all like that" to every shop owner who has to endure their raucous, poor mannered behavior. Not to mention their drunken excess.

Now before you all go running off to tell Keith Urban and Kenny Chesney to get the keel-haulin' lynch ropes ready, hear me out.

People may read this and think that I am ashamed of my country or, worse, not patriotic enough to stand by my country or my fellow citizens. This is simply not true. I just hate it when stereotypes apply. We should all be greater than our perceived inadequacies, don't you think? Shouldn't we all want to be better than the lowest common cultural denominator? I can't stand anything that perpetuates the disparity between people and there is no reason to act like a jackass on your own soil, let alone somewhere where it's expected of you. I think that America is pretty darn great, which is why it makes me sad when people act like such pieces of shit. Or worse, subscribe to ideals that continue to separate us from each other and from other cultures. I'm not a fan of anything that gets in the way of the 24 hour block party we should all be engaging in and enjoying all the time. Things like racism, discrimination, homophobia, and basic no-good ignorance or ignorant behavior make no fucking sense to me. I think 'rudeness' absolutely applies.

To quote MY guardo comino: "I love America. But not in the 'Archie Bunker marching off to war' sort of way. I love America because Miles Davis comes from here. Jimi Hendrix comes from here. Otis Redding comes from here. Let's face it: James Brown could have never come from London, England. No fucking way".

So yeah. Sorry if I seem a little judgmental in this one. Being surrounded by Americans again has worsened my temper.

Gotta run, the internets are about to shut down for the night. More later.


-d@n