Bitch....Slapped...

The Venus...the only one I recognized...gosh I am so unedemacated

We woke up relatively early again on Saturday to make our 10:15 admittance time to the Ufizi Art Museum. The Uffizi is one of those unavoidable traveling mistakes that left us both kicking ourselves in the ass after about an hour. The Uffizi holds the largest collection of Renaissance Art in the world and is one of Florence’s main attractions. Low and behold we come to realize, once we are sweltering amidst the tourist crowds and 30 euros later, neither one of us even likes Renaissance art at all. We rushed to get tickets and avoid the line even though neither one of us even had any particular desire to go. We just felt like we should go see what all the fuss was about I guess. Kinda funny. This is what I learned at the Uffizi:

- You can never wear too much deoderant

- Italian museum curators don’t know jack about the museum they work in

- There is no way all those little kids running around possibly can understand what they are looking at

- Asian people don’t smile in pictures

- looking at 300 portraits of women who look like men is not my idea of a kick-ass afternoon

And most importantly, which Brandon will explain in a moment....

- Do not lose your significant other in a crowded museum unless you want things to get violent

ANYWAY, as I was slowly but surely getting over the 30 Euros or $50 (fucking exchange rate) I just spent on shit I really didn’t want to see AND the fact that they wouldn’t give me an audio tour cell phone looking thing cause I didn’t have my ID, I was aimlessly wondering the Ufizi for at least one painting I recognize. At least to say I saw the so and so right? So there I was, Jess by my side, my hand on her tush where it usually is during normal day to day activities, and as were deciding which paintings to gaze at in pure dissatisfaction …I naturally turned to her, put my hand on her tush and casually said, oohhh The Venus. BUT as I squeezed the tush, to the purest of pure surprises… that one cheek of tush I put my hand on, well…it was the size of Jess’s whole ass. And that tenth of a second I had before a 40 something Italian women turned to me, yelled something in Italian and gave me the best bitch slap I have ever had, I thought…uh oh. It was so awesomely embarrassing for both parties I was left speechless. I tried to use slow and broken English to explain to her that I thought she was my girlfriend and I was pointlessly trying to point in any direction to explain to her in sherades that I actually I have girlfriend and she‘s over there, in that direction, who’s ass I thought was yours…After a minute of literally standing there in shame and awesomeness, I realized it was helpless. I also realized that she might have a pissed off husband that might be heated and I certainly did not want to get into a fight, in Italy, where they take there art more serious than any culture, and if I get slammed against one of these paintings and they blame it on me…well I might be stuck here eating pizza and pasta for a long time. And that just does not sound appeasing. So I got the hell outta there and found Jess.

I found Jess in the other room trying to make sense of one of the religious paintings, told her what happened and she chuckled as if I told her one of my bad jokes. “No seriously Jess, I just got bitch slapped by an Italian lady cause I grabbed her ass cause I thought it was yours! We have to go to the next room, her husband might be here and I don’t want another July 4th incident.” ANYWAY, good times Ufizi. Maybe we’ll come back when were more mature…and I have my ID. Till then…

My Jess boozin in the middle of Florence...no big deal

I had to....

Florence. Good Espresso and Naked Statues

After a sad goodbye with Guiseppe, Conchetta,

Kasia, and Chiara (perhaps!) and four hours of killing time in the Catania airport, we arrived in Florence in the early evening on Thursday. And then there were two. Luckily, and much to our surprise, our modest little hotel was about 100 feet from the main train station so that was key since we were so hot, tired, hungry, and hot. Oh and we were hot. August heat has really brought it’s A-game apparently. Pretty much everywhere we go we look like those sweaty desert wanderers you see on Oracle and Grant, just with half our body weight on our backs and much better hair.

ANYWAYS, we get to our hotel and bad news ensues as we come to find we do not have air-conditioning and we are on the 5th floor with a tiny little oscillating fan circa 1982. Thus we turned to all the beauty Florence has to offer to set us out on the right foot for what really felt

like the beginning of our adventure.

Florence is absolutely stunning. Minus the pickpockets and ex-crack heads relentlessly petitioning against drugs. One of the first plus’ we came to learn about in this city is that you can walk everywhere. It is so tiny, and so jam-packed with beautiful things to see, statues, museums, history… that you can hardly get over the one thing before you are face-to-face with the next. We ended up having dinner at one of those picturesque little bistro candle-lit in the cobblestone alley ways. Delicious food…. Bruscetta, pasta with pesto, mint, mushrooms and some sort of sweet chicken thing. OH, and how could I forget… bonus #2 about Florence, you can walk around the streets with your own 1.50 euro bottle of wine and sit down at a restaurantwith it (or so we think).

The city is divided into neighborhoods according

to what major church it is near, for example we are staying in Santa Maria Novella and our hotel window looks down into the courtyard of this gigantic temple. My point is that the Italians are obviously very religious people, amongst other

things, and these ridiculously immaculate churches are everywhere. The most renowned of course being the Duomo. Today it is the 3rd largest church in the world, and let me tell you it is absolutely

insanely huge. Its almost a joke. The next morning we took a walking tour throughout the church, out up onto the balconys and eventually after climbing about 1000 stairs in what felt like the film set for Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom, we got to hang out on the very top of the dome

which overlooks the whole city. Bellisimo! Next we went to one of the famous Piazza’s where free-standing statues and fountains dating back to the mid 15th century, including the

slaying of medusa and a replica of Michealangelo’s David. One of the smartest things we have been doing thus far on our trip has been waking up stupidly early, not by choice, more by my insomnia or Brandon’s snoring, because we have been beating the tourists masses by at least and hour or two.

Hey Cheryl, if your reading, the best espresso you’ll ever have made into the best cappuccino you’ll ever have only costs 1 euro here.

After lunch at an awesome little deli/restaurant which my lonely planet directed us to and a quick nap followed by workout on the front lawn of the train station (normal) we decided to get some shopping in. By shopping I mean half “just looking because I could never afford you “shopping and half “ 10 euro’s? I’ll give you 4” bargaining with the street vendors. Florence is insane with their fashion; I have never seen so many well dressed dudes in my life… all serving as serious inspiration for B.Cohen as you can imagine; lets just say a purchase of purple loafers are in the near future. We pass 3 different

Gucci stores before we even get to our morning coffee spot, even the crickety boned old man bumping down the cobblestones on the vintage schwinn is pimped out. I’ll let Brandon write further about this later, but the men’s fashion is incredible and somewhat addicting to explore; its like the Italians care more than anything about looking good whilst not caring at all what anyone thinks.

At night in Florence everyone just gathers in the dimly lit piazza’s, drinking, eating and people watching. After grabbing some quick and cheap chicken schwarma from the kebab place next door we went and sat on the steps of the Duomo with a bottle of wine and joined the people watching crowd. In the other piazza’s and streets on our way there were opera singers, jazz bands, and comedians but where we settled there was just one lonely guy and his saxophone. He was good, and without an amp provided just enough background music permitting us to still eavesdrop on all the travelers conversations around us. By midnight we were tucked in bed with our cans of Heineken and a night cap of How I Met Your Mother on the laptop.

Let's Chat...

Let’s talk about Europe and the things they do differently. Open forum for all friends and family, cause I would certainly love to hear your opinion on all subject matters. And for those who haven’t been, well I guess your just gonna have to take my word it on it huh?

First, my favorite topic of digestion, I mean discussion….food. My love and hate (for lack of a better word) relationship with food in Euro

pe started in Germany at a gas station

café. Yes…a gas station café. Jess and I woke up at 4:30am from jet lag fairly hungry and ready for some coffee. We asked our half awake concierge at the hotel desk where we can get some eggs. She directed us to the nearest gas station, yes…gas station where they will literally cook us eggs. Ok..fair enough. Worth a try right, just to see a café at a gas station cook you up some fluffy scrambled? So to our surprise it was actually pretty nice. The café was clean, neat and organized. We ordered 2 cups of café (as they say) and two Panini like sandwiches from the display window. From the first bite…mmm mmm delicious. Now…let’s break this down cause they are many topics of discussion here.

Numero uno (in italiano as I’m at the Sicily airport on our way to Florence). The café.(coffee) The café was fantastic. Frothy at the top, perfect blend and hot enough to last 20 minutes. Now you ask yourself sitting in this gas station at 4:30am in the morning, damn…can this coffee be

this good? The answer is yes. This good. Europe takes their coffee very seriously and I’ll be damned if I don’t enjoy at least 2 cups a day. Let’s compare. In America, if I was at an “On the Run” at 4:30am in the morning, they would have that nasty grainy coffee sitting in the coffee pot you have to put 3 creamers and 5 sugars in to bear the taste. Mind you they haven’t made a fresh pot since the night truckers came through 3 hours earlier and a new one doesn’t come on till 5am. And just for the record…this cup of coffee I had could blow Starbucks drip outta the water anyday. ANYWAY… Numero due. The Panini. Now the Panini we had was freshly baked crusted bread with mozzarella cheese, “turkey” (which is really a mix of pork and chicken) and oregano. Delicious. I wanted another one as soon as I finished but I held off cause I didn’t want to be to full for the workout. ANYWAY, here’s the thing. In America, at the majority of gas stations, airports and truck stops (TA, or Toltecs) your only options are pre-made, thinly sliced sandwiches that are wrapped in plastic and made in China. That or the salty trail mix,

watermelon bubble gum and ritz crakers for $7.99. My point is two fold. One, “the working man,” traveling man food is excellent in comparison to America’s. BUT…the problem is, is that it’s everywhere! In Munich, in Sicily… all the street food, airport food, all the truck stops, all the

gas stations have the same thing. Over and over again, mounds and mounds of Panini’s, “turkey” sandwiches, caprese, ect…. Point is there is no variety. Now America on the other hand is fantastic for an assortment of selections. Example. Sky Harbor airport, Phoenix, Arizona…you have your choice. Do I feel like Flo’s Asian cuisine, maybe some chicken and rice (J Stapes) or d

o I feel like a veggie sandwich from Paradise café (Jordan and Jess)? Do I feel like baby back ribs from Chili’s to go, or having my once every six month’s whopper from Burger King? I don’t know…I don’t know. Choices. I love them. That’s what’s great about America.

As far as why this is I have an idea. In America, we are full of diversity. Full of Asians, Mexicans, Italians…a melting pot as they say. So…what do we get? A shit load of choices when deciding where to dine. But in Germany, or Italy…the majority of the population is those named after the country. Now I don’t know if they are just that prideful that they won’t let some new flavors come in, but dammit…didn’t they know BCohen wanted chicken and rice at least once a week?

And now...some random Sicily pics

The most beautiful view we have ever seen.

I had to...I just had to. Me in my natural state.

The best chef in sicily, Conchetta and the rest of the Sicilian crew!