Where in the World is Markmen Radtkiego?

On my last day in Florence, I saw Michelangelo’s David. I don’t think I’ve ever been more awed by a work of art. Pictures and replicas don’t do it justice. In an attempt to bring about renewed critical study of the David (to keep it from becoming just a postcard picture), the museum has filled the hall leading to the David with a few modern artworks, which were surprisingly good.

While I was going to Rome, I took a side trip to Assissi (as in St. Francis of Assissi), and walked around a little town high on a hilltop overlooking Tuscany. There are about 5 churches jammed onto the mountain, the most famous and impressive one being the Basilica of St. Francis. He’s buried there, and there’s a museum with a collection of his relics and some artwork. It was a nice way to spend an afternoon, but I’m pretty sure it’s not a very hot spot for nightlife, so I continued on to Rome.

The hostel I’m staying at is unlike any I’ve seen so far. It’s basically a large apartment with about 15 bunk beds throughout the rooms. The staff are all young and very welcoming. I didn’t even go out at night; the staff, a bunch of Aussies and I just drank Peroni and talked until 2 in the morning.

Today I started walking towards the city center. The first big attraction I saw was the Spanish Steps. I don’t get what the big deal is with them. After that, I went to the Trevi Fountain (the one that you throw coins into); it’s a really amazing sight. I never thought a fountain could knock my socks off, but boy were they knocked. Then I went into the Pantheon. It was big, I guess, but the most interesting part about it is that Raphael is buried there. And, I had no idea that it was a church until I saw the alter.

Well, I’ve cooled off enough in this Internet cafè, so I’m going to try to find the Colosseum.

A little bit about Florence so far: Instead of getting in at 6, we got in closer to 11:30. Just before arriving, I tried to get my bearings by looking at the map in my guidebook. The entry for my hostel said, “Strict midnight curfew.” I would have to get to my hostel within half an hour or I’d be locked out! After waiting 5 minutes without any sign of a bus, I asked a guy behind a kiosk if the busses were still running (most of the cities I’ve been to shut down after midnight). He told me that the bus drivers were on strike, but busses would be running tomorrow. So I hopped over to the taxi stand, where I stood behind a big Italian guy smoking a cigar and praying to St. Peter, I think. (Grambo, what do you pray to St. Peter for? Is he the patron saint of cab drivers?) Behind me were three teenage girls communicating in sign language.

Just as St. Peter got up to the front of the cab stand, some sweaty drunk guy cut the line. I couldn’t say anything, although yelling at him in Spanish crossed my mind. (I later learned that Spanish is helpful for reading Italian, but not speaking it.) Five valuable minutes went by before two cabs showed up. I ran around St. Peter and hopped into the second one, and made it to my hostel at about 11:55.

This morning I learned that there is no curfew, they just ask people to be quiet after midnight.

I’m going to write a letter to my guidebook publisher and demand an apology and a job.

I tried calling Hans (Swiss relative) right after my last post. Now, the Hans I was expecting supposedly speaks pretty good English. The guy on the other end definately didn't. After a few attempts at explaining myself (in English, of ... [Continue reading this entry]