Idiosyncracies and such

Tonight I leave for London.

I’ll spend 4 nights in London, possibly go to Paris for Halloween.
May 2nd I fly from London to Madrid, where I spend two nights before heading to Barcelona for one final night of partying!

Ciao kids…

It’ll be nice to get a break from Florence…and I can’t wait for Starbucks and Krispie Kreme and all the other American goodies found in London!

Peace, Spice, and Adventure,
-Edgar

We have company. Across the courtyard-like space inside of our apartment we have 4 flat-mates from the UK. Most are from London, and three are women, while the remaining Londoner is a boy who happens to play for my team. Yesterday after screaming to each other from opposing windows I talked to two of the girls, Julia and Emma, who seemed like oodles of fun. Being as one of the girls is named after one of my favorite pop stars of all time, I started up that always fun and familiar conversation. It was moving enough for them to invite us over to watch Sex and The City (which is what Chris and I were watching in our apartment at the same time). After Chris made fun of me for being social and talking to the Brits, I got the boy dressed and we went over.

Most of the girls were really fun and I enjoyed them tons. They had an issue of Now magazine, in which there was a feature on Emma, additionally a not so flattering picture of Victoria Beckham was on the cover. At one point my favorite English girl, named Mimi, and I went to their Piazza facing window, and started chanting to people on the streets in Italian. To any boys that walked by we’d ask if they knew where the hot boys were, to which they usually replied “right here.” Then Mimi and I would discuss if they were worthy of coming up, and we’d ask them if they were omosessuale, and then we’d reply to the guy (regardless of the answer) that “sorry, not hot enough to come up”…at which point laughing would ensue. That was fun for about 15 minutes.

It wasn’t long until the gay English bloke found out that Chris and I liked the boys. This is when things started to change. He kinda became an accessory to Chris and Edgar. The type of accessory that doesn’t quite go with the outfit and that should really be taken off.

After a little more interaction with the girls, we decided to go, as we had plans to attend the always fabulous Christy and Ronita Thursday night bash. Brit boy decided to tag along. At this point, the accessory was severely holding back the otherwise perfect ensemble. In all fairness though, Brit boy had not yet shown his uber levels of sketchiness that he was about to unleash at the unsuspecting partygoers.

When we arrived to Christy and Ronita’s apartment we were warmly greeted, as always, and it was absolutely wonderful to see the welcoming faces of some of our best NYU friends. Their parties are nothing short of spectacular. Jolly Sid’s presence always makes me happy. Jules also arrived, with her luscious locks and sexy exuberance that personifies every sexual fantasy I have ever had. Twas a hot affair, I’m not gonna lie…we be some happenin’ bitches.

As is customary, Christy and Ronita made sure that every guest got as crunk as they possibly could. The place was bumpin’ and there were more people than there were chairs. I was at a corner somewhat squatting down, when Brit boy (after initially hinting at it), in a flirtatious way told me to sit on his lap. I kinda pretended not to hear and kept partying. A few minutes later he told me to sit on his lap again, and I said “no thanks, I’m fine.” To which he responded “what, am I that horrendous?” I didn’t fall for his guilt trip and went with Christy without responding to him. Truth is, he was not horrendous, yet he was far short of being David Beckham, Pierce Brosnan, Hugh Grant, Orlando Bloom, and maybe even Alan Cumming. I just didn’t want to sit on his lap. Apart from his creamage-ensuing accent, there was no attraction there.

After several hours of partying, due to our NYU site trip to Florentine villas in the morning, we decided to call it a night. On the way home, someone asked what the Brit boy’s name was, to which Jasmine responded Humus. This triggered a hilarious response from Julia and Chris, who not only thought it was absolutely hysterical, but additionally they had an inside joke about the chick pea creation, that was all too much for them, and they fell on the floor laughing. If there was ever a time that we felt like drunken American kids in Florence, this was the time. In retrospect it probably wasn’t good that they fell on dirty Florentine streets, but when the buzz is a goin’ logic is always the first to go. Brit boy’s name wasn’t exactly humus, but something very close…we’re still trying to remember. He had given me a note with his number on it (he also drew his number on my hand with a pen), where I could have read his name…but alas I think it got trashed pretty quickly.

As we continued our walk, every respectable notion I had of the English (which was considerable) was flushed down the toilet. Humus, while trying to woo me says “I need to take a poo.” I didn’t respond, but walked farther away from him, and closer to Chris and our friends. At this point Humus was no longer a bad accessory, but a stomach virus whose verbal diarrhea was really doing my head in.

We said bye to the girls when we arrived at our apartment, and Chris and I entered our corridor only to see that Humus was still there…he wanted to come up. At this point Chris and I are trying to figure out the best way to tell him to leave. We hadn’t hooked up, sat on each other laps, or taken a poo together….clearly he had not earned to right of coming up. I then decided to be polite (as Edgar is usually unable to be bitchy to people when in person) and I told him I was going to bed, that I’d talk to him later. He finally left.

Peace, Spice, and Adventure,
-Edgar

here is my address…send me some lovin’

Edgar Casillas
Villa Natalia
Via Bolognese 106
50139 Firenze
Italy

Peace, Spice, and Adventure,
-Edgar

Well, well, well…

After 3 weeks of being in limbo, and not being able to find a gay club. Chris came home one day with glorious news of his finding. We finally found Tabasco, the obscure club that its street address we could not find on the map. Part of the reason being that its in a dark alleyway, and that the entrance to the club itself is a shed. Yes…a shed. You can only imagine how scary and uber sketchy it was for us while trying to muster up the courage to walk in to the shed that night. All we could see was a blue light from the tiny window with eyes peering out to see if we were gonna come in or not. Well due to the fact that gay clubbing in the wonderful urban environment permits us to drink before we go, without having to drive, like say in El Paso, Chris and I were pretty happy on our way in. Some alchie in the system is a must if fun is to be had at uber sketchy gay establishments. Yay for the lady down the street that sells white wine bottle for 2.50 Euro. I love her, and I like cheap wine that does the trick (though when I go out to dinner now, I’m starting to get picky about my wine). One bottle for Chris and I though is not enough, but cover at Tabasco was 10 Euro which included a drink, which was nice.

So we’re finally courageous enough to enter, and the greeter gives us a card, and tells us the price. We walk in and to our amazement the shed was bumpin’ inside. Tabasco is full blown gay club. The bar tenders were super nice, and while the first bartender didn’t know what an amaretto sour (my girly drink of choice) was, he asked a second one, who hooked me up. There were plenty of guys, and the place was packed. The music, as in most other gay clubs was absolutely amazing. Its nice to hear Britney, Madonna, and Spice instead of 50 cent all the time. Speaking of spice, without me having to request to the DJ, Spice Up Your Life and Stop were played, to which I had to go crazy too, which after a bottle of wine, and an amaretto sour is not a hard thing to do. It was so much fun, and the greatest surprise of my life, at least that night, was that the guys were respectful and didn’t try to molest us (as has been the case in the US several times). It was the complete opposite of what I was expecting, but maybe we were just lucky that night…Italians have a reputation for a reason, and I’ve seen them chow down on our female counterparts. In a highly-tispy state I decided I liked one of the guys that worked there, and without the need of much encouragement from Chris, I was chatting away with the Italian, and making small talk. He was such a cute little Italian guy, who looked just our age…i think he had braces, which to a drunken Edgar must have been cute. My Italian was good enough to get his name ‘Valencio’ (assuming I remember correctly), and he found out that I was American (something I take advantage of to get the most out of being a foreigner), and when he asked me where in USA I was from, and I replied Texas he said in his italian accent “oh, there is a tornado on its way there”, which i then deciphered to mean a hurricane, after he gesticulated what he meant. That was some nice small talk, but he was working so he couldn’t stay for too long, so I just did a little flirtatious thing every time he walked by. Chris and I had to leave soon, (as it was 3 am, and I had to be at the train station for Ferrrara in 5 hours). I said many a Ciao to Valencio, and in an uber sketchy,very unlike Edgar way, when I shook his hand at the end, there was a note in there. Which is all I will say about that.

So all in all, gay clubbing in Florence was absolutely amazing, and rivaled most gay outings in both NYC and El Paso. Hooray to that! I think its safe to say Chris and I will be back this weekend.

Peace, Spice, and gay clubbing adventures,
-Edgar

Ok so after Ferrara, when i arrived back at Florence’s train station I decided that I really wanted to venture to Venice, so right then an there I purchased a one way ticket for the next morning. I would have gone straight to Venice from Ferrrara but 1. I didn’t have my passport on me (which is needed to check into hotels), and 2. I promised Chris I’d go gay clubbing with him in Florence upon my return. So after a night of gay clubbing, I woke up 5 hours later…running to catch my train. Catch the train I did, and after 3 and a half hours I arrive in Venice. I was instantly stunned by the beauty of the city, but before I could really begin to enjoy myself…I had to find a place to stay the night. At a tourist office I picked up a list of hotels and hostels in the city. After 2 hours of hunting down hostels, all of which were booked, I decided to begin checking hotels. The cheapest I could find was 70 Euro a night, and it wasn’t in Venice, but rather on the mainland. It was kinda disheartening and I was starting to give up hope, when I saw a sign on a tiny little street corner. It read “Beds for Friends” and I follwed the directions to this private appartment. I ran the doorbell, they opened the gate, and in Italian told me to come in. Granted the apartment complex was enclosed, and in a nice area, but it was still uber sketchy. After climbing up 3 flights of stairs I was greeted by a wonderful lady who welcomed me into her home, told me to sit down and gave me some wine and biscotti. She then offered me a bed for the night (for a mere 25 Euro) and she said that breakfast would be included. I was in heaven. Her husband, Pietro, then showed me around the apartment, gave me my own set of keys, and I was on my way to explore the city.

Venice is absolutely amazing. Its a city full of life, rich in vibrant colors, italian hospitality, and an almost unrealistic beauty.

Here are the best pictures of the trip so far: Read the rest of this entry »

Finally some more pictures for ur viewing pleasure. I went to Siena today and it was lovely.

This way to pics! Read the rest of this entry »

Natalie Imbruglia is playing her first live gig in 7 years on October 31st 2005.

Guess who has tickets?

Peace, Spice, and Adventure,
-Edgar

The cappuccinos NYU makes us in the mornings are absolutely amazing, and cost us only 70 cents. We have our own ‘bar’ just like legit Italians. I really have been impressed by how amazing this campus is. Its the tiny little country college expereince you never wanted, but actually found to be quite fun when placed inside of it. My US/Euro relations class gets me quite excited, which is geeky, but I will admit to it. Yay for academia, how I missed you this summer.

I think I want to go to Siena this weekend. I duno when the train or bus leaves, or where in the train station that would happen, but i figure if I miss a bus, I can go to Pisa, Genoa, or Fiesole intead. Yeah, I think day trips on Saturdays are well in order.

Next weekend I’m trying to get the gang to agree to go to Capri, though really I think Napoli could be a day or two in itself.

hmm…decisions, decisions.

Peace, Spice, and Adventure,
-Edgar

PS-yay for free internet on campus!

This update is 3 days old, I just forgot to post it.

To say the effects of the alcohol from last night are long gone would be a bit of a lie. Instead of waking up, say in the early afternoon, which is usually the case after an interesting night out, I was up and running by 6:45 this morning. I figured the best thing to do would be to explore Florence at such an hour. I found a quaint coffee shop, or bar as they are known here, ordered un café Americano e un pane di cioccolato. It is at this bar that I sit writing this.

I must say I’m being unusual to the locals, by acting so American and whipping out my laptop. Going to get coffee in Florence is a notable difference from Starbucks or Café Dali in the States. It is called a bar, because literally you order coffee at a bar, and drink it there while standing and chatting with other locals before leaving for work, or whatever Italians do that comes close to the word. This whole sitting down to enjoy coffee for a while is not what most people do, but as I notice, it’s a tourist type of thing, which is why I think they have a few tables and chairs available. People don’t come to coffee bars to discuss their problems, but only quick and superficial things like the weather. As I doubt Italians have the therapist addiction New Yorkers have, they must let out their troubles through dinner and wine, or while screaming to each other at night and gesticulating their emotion. Caffeine does not interact with emotional trauma I presume.

I feel I draw attention, and while I am uncertain as to whether its because I’m an American wearing an “I have Candy” shirt, I think the laptop is more of a culprit. I’ve had 3 people look over my shoulder to see what I’m doing…it’s the subtle reading someone else’s newspaper while they are reading it on the subway type of thing.
You have to hand it to the locals, they are some of the nicest and most accommodating people I have ever met. While I think that collectively we would not be too excited having thousands of Italian college students roaming Manhattan, in Florence, where my kind have just about taken over, they tend to be exceedingly nice to us, and I don’t think we’re deserving really. I guess it just speaks of the general goodness that are the Italian people. They love their culture, which is why I think they enjoy seeing foreigners embrace it and love to share what they know, do and eat.

Peace, Spice, and Adventure,
-Edgar

So here I end up going to the most amazing Italian restaurant only to get yelled at by the waitress. It was really sad 🙁 but totally hilarious.

Chris and I went to eat at this place near our piazza, where the 3 course meal was a mere €13. The food was absolutely amazing. I had a wonderful meal with some excellent vino bianco. My last side dish I ordered though was called fried potatoes, which I wasn’t100% sure what such a name would entail, but I was eager to find out. Well when I get the side dish, I realize they are some Texas style steak fries, or french fries. They are pretty nice, but they lack ketchup. I politely ask the Italian lady if she had ketchup, to which she yelled at me ‘THIS IS NOT MCDONALDS, no ketchup’ It was pretty funny/semi paralyzing.

Now, immediately I remember that there is a McDonald’s right near the restaurant, so for like 3 minutes I debate walking out, getting ketchup, and then walkiung back in to finish my meal…just to piss her off. I realize that would be quite innappropriate and I refrain from doing so, but damn did I want to!!!!!! Had it been some bitchy waitress in the US, I would have totally done it, but in Italy and to an otherwise nice waitress, I figured such action on my part would have been very rude, and wouldn’t have helped out our country’s image abroad, lol.

In the end, it was a great meal, and now I have a cultural experience to share with Professore Carlo on Monday. wOOt for that!

Peace, Spice, and Adventure,
-Edgar