For the past week or so, I've been on a trip to Italy with 20 other latin students from my high school and three teachers. (We're studying ancient ruins as well as all the other art that is available in the museums we patronize.) Yesterday, when I was in Florence (I am now back in Rome) I was walking around with a couple of people that are also on the trip, and they decided to go back to the hotel and I told them I was going to make a quick stop at a clothing store someone had told me about. Since it was my second day in Florence, I figured I could find my way back to the hotel because it was only eight or so blocks away from the store. However, the store turned out to be a little further than a few blocks away, but I still had an idea of where I was going. After I had made my purchases at the store, I realized I only had five minutes to get back to the hotel because we were supposed to meet there so the whole group could walk to dinner at 6:30. So, as I was hurrying out of the store, I went out the wrong end and started walking. (I know, I'm very stupid.) I walked and walked, and I wasn't seeing the street where I was supposed to turn, but then I found one looking familiar and turned, walked a few blocks, and then turned again. At this point, I expected to be at my hotel. However, I had found myself instead in this dirty alleyway with dumpsters and nasty, greasy Italian men with cigarettes hanging out of their mouths. I mean, these guys were greasy to the point of SLIMY. And they were giving me bone-chilling smiles and saying "Ciao bella". Needless to say, I freaked and ran as fast as I could down the street and since the streets were slippery, I practically slid into an open leather shop. There was a nice looking Italian man, in his forties, standing in front so I asked him rather breathlessly, "where is hotel medici?" Then I remembered my Italian and said, "dove hotel medici?". And imagine me saying this while being completely dishevelled, hair all messy, face all sweaty, legs covered with little splatters of dirt from running around in the wet streets of Florence. Despite my unkempt appearance, he was eager to help me and started out by telling me to sit down and to be quiet, because everything would be all right. He went and got out his phone book and tried looking for the Hotel Medici. However, he couldn't find it because I told him it was
a pensione, a small type of hotel, and not an actual hotel despite it's name. So, he found a pensione Medici and said he'd walk me there. When walked to the pensione, it turned out that it was not my pensione
Medici but another one (there are three hotels in Florence called Medici). We walked back to his leather shop again! Of course, I was feeling very guilty for giving him so much trouble, but he still insisted on helping me. He went through three other phonebooks,
muttering in Italian swearwords such as "baffangu" and finally he found my hotel. So, he led me back there, said "ciao", and kind of rubbed my face affectionately. (Italian thing). By this time it was 7:15, but it turned out that the teachers had not planned on leaving until then anyway, so I got back in the nick of time.
And the story doesn't end there! The next day, as I was walking around shopping with one other friend, I saw the leather shop guy! He was all, "ciao! How are you?" and I was all, "I'm great, how are things at the store?" and we had this nice little talk, but he had to run off to do something important so I couldn't show my gratitude by making a purchase at his store, but I was glad that I saw him again before leaving Florence.