Vaga-Blog - Volume I - Florence (May 30, p.m.)

WHAT'S ITALIAN FOR "THATS A LOVELY SPEEDO?"

So the hotel claimed to be in Florence. In reality it’s more like Westchester, which is still Manhattan if you didn’t mind a 20km commute up a dirt road. That’s actually the least of my concerns, because I have a fairly good sense of direction and I can follow graham cracker crumbs anywhere. My concerns, listed here for you in a convenient format, are:

1. I’m just off the road, dusty and dirty. I saunter up, hoping to be greeted like any over-paying, unshowered hotel guest would be. Carry my bags? Great! Warm cookie? Don’t mind if I do! Alas … this is no Marriott. Office is closed, and the only person I can find is a nutjob in a green speedo lying by the pool. Sure enough, he’s the one who will check me in. In his speedo. After a while he puts on a towel. But the damage is done, and he’s still naked as far as my eye can see above the desk. Yet, I’m desperate – so I give him my credit card and ask for dinner recommendations.
   
   
2. Call me a brat. To me, “apartment plus sofa bed” means more than one room and more than one place to be horizontal. Here, it means one spatially challenged room with a sofa bed. Meaning that’s the bed. No real bed, no couch. It’s all in one. Super convenient AND comfortable! Fall asleep watching TV? No problem, you’re already laying comfortably on your non-bed!
   
   
3. Speaking of TV. There’s no TV. There is, technically, a TV. But it would take a NASA scientist to make it work, and when I’m here and awake (7-9 am, 6-11 pm), no one who works here is actually here to help. This wouldn’t be a problem if there was, say, a clock radio to play background noise. (No worries, the voices in my head telling me I’m nuts will suffice for now.) Of course, there’s also no alarm clock. For 70 bucks a night, why would I expect an alarm clock? There’s a kitchen – complete with gas stove and minfridge – built into an armoire, but no alarm clock. How I wish I was kidding.
   
   
4. Wireless internet? That’s another good one. Dr. Speedo tried to hook my laptop into his wireless network and he was unsuccessful. So for my first three days, I’m incommunicado with my world. No internet. No newspaper. As you may have heard, no TV or radio. Even the phone is sketchy –cell reception is hitto and misto – and it’s a buck a minute. So if you call me, talk fast.