Getting to Florence

Ja drove us down to the train station in Menton at 5:30 the next morning. Amanda had looked at booking tickets online but it was confusing and seemed too expensive so we decided to just pick them up at the station. The station was empty when we arrived and none of the ticket booths were open so we tried to use the ticket machine. Though it was a different machine from the one we used in Nice, the interface was equally confusing and non-responsive. After navigating several menus it told us we would have to pay 100€ for our two tickets. We accepted this price even though it seemed a bit steep and it took us to a screen asking us how many children we were bringing along and then locked up when we said none. Fortunately while we were messing with the machine, a ticket agent opened his booth and he sold us two tickets for 60€.

The train journey was confusing, hot, and stressful. We were supposed to change trains in Genova Brignole but there were about ten stops in Genova and we didn't realize they were all called Genova <something in Italian>. We jumped up several times in confusion before we realized what was going on. After a while I started to wonder if Genova Brignole was the actual name or if it was called something else at the station. Further confusing matters was the fact there were no maps on the train and few if any signs at each station. Also the tickets said we would be arriving at Genova Brignole at 10:20 but we didn't actually arrive at the station until 11:30. An hour is a long time to spend riding a train in Italy with no idea where you are or where you are going - especially when your ticket suggested you'd passed the station long ago.

The second leg of the trip, from Genova Brignole to La Spezia Miglirina, was not on the list of departures from that station. We stood in line at the ticket counter and tried to explain our situation to the agent. He told us in very broken English to just get on the train to La Spezia Centralia which was leaving at a different time.

The train to La Spezia Centralia was supposedly leaving from track 1 but there were no numbers on the tracks and the only train in the station was parked way off the platform and looked abandoned. So we joined the other confused foreigners and locals waiting for another train to arrive at the scheduled time.

No train arrived but a minute before the ticket said we were departing, a voice came over the loudspeaker suggesting the train was about to leave. The only train was the seemingly abandoned one parked most of the way off the platform but we all picked up our luggage and raced to get on. There were no ticket agents and we asked a few people if this train was going to Florence but got only shrugs in response.

Fortunately the train took us to Florence. During this stretch of the journey the driver drove extra fast as if to make up for lost time. The entire train leaned around corners and seemed to jumped into the air as we went over trestles. The carriage was oppressively hot and humid. There was no air conditioning and the windows were either stuck or locked shut. The condensation grew on the windows opposite until it ran down in little rivulets. Amanda and I took turns fanning ourselves with a handheld paper fan and we emptied our drinking bottles. Other passengers seemed to be on the verge of passing out from heat exhaustion and we left wet outlines on the seats when we stood up.

We went through a handful of small towns before reaching Florence. The mountains behind them were visibly rutted and diminished from being used as quarries for millennia. The train stations we raced through all had large cranes and quarry yards for loading cut blocks of stone. It was interesting to see how much the mountains had been cut down to build the city.

My first impression of Florence was bad. It was crowded, hot, and crass. There were no public water fountains near the station and from the train we were funneled down a wide corridor through an underground mall selling the types of luxury items you'd see in a Williams-Sonoma catalog. We walked by beggars lying prostrate on the concrete, their foreheads touching the ground with hands outstretched besides signs advertising bathrooms for 0.80€.

We emerged from the underground passage beside a busy street outside a tall stone cathedral in a mass of tourists. Amanda had the address of the hostel where we would be staying but we had no cell service and had no way of orientating ourselves in the city. The hostel was located on a short narrow street near the river and even with GPS and the map I downloaded to my phone the day before, we had a hard time locating the place.

The city was packed with tourists; huge Chinese tourist groups and overweight Americans in pastel shirts. Mopeds and taxis sped down the narrow streets at dangerous speeds and most of the shops and restaurants were closed or so crowded it was practically the same.

00:44 (11.2MiB)

We passed a church where a DJ playing loud dance music was setup on the steps outside and the interior had been converted into a 'mall'

At dinner that night we went out for pizza and they charged us extra for water and added an extra 4€ on the bill for 'corto' (which at the time we thought was a tip but I looked up the translation afterwards and it means 'short' as in 'short-sleeves' or 'short of money') During the meal I began to suspect they made the bread extra salty so we would buy more drinks. I think I would have given them the benefit of the doubt but every service in the city seemed designed to separate the tourist from his money.

Our hotel was in a small street just off the river and though it was originally listed as a hostel, they charged us 200€ for the three nights we would be staying in the city and it was surprisingly nice. Further supporting my suspicion they were only after my wallet, they charged an extra 5€ a night for air conditioning and 10€ to run it during the day. Towels were extra, as was water, cookies, beer, and wine. The bathroom only had 1/2 roll of toilet paper.

After our torturous train ride, we showered and tried to rehydrate from the bathroom tap.

The woman at the desk gave us recommendations of restaurants and sights to see in the city. She told us we should cross the river and hike up the hill to see the sunset over the city. There were gelato shops on every corner and people crowding both sides of the street.

We climbed the steps and turned the corner to the stone balcony that overlooked the city and waded into a crowd of 2000 people all there to see the same sunset. It was unbelievably crowded. People were stacked up 10-20 deep along the stone wall. Then there was a gap where others could walk up and down behind the crowd and across from this, a line of street sellers with their trinkets and belts laid out on blankets on the ground.

I've got a note my notebook from that evening.

"My head hurt, my tooth hurt, the alleys smelled of urine and dog shit, everyone wanted to take my money, and nothing was open. It wasn't the best introduction to the city."

I had cracked my tooth a few weeks before the trip though it wasn't diagnosed until after I got back. It bothered me throughout the trip.

Amanda noticed I couldn't take anymore and we wandered up the hill away from the crowds into a relatively deserted ground of a large church and the locked gates to the cemetary. They rang the bells while we rested there and tried to recover.