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Excuses galore

16 Jun

Excuses galore

After dinner in Florence, I decided it would be safest to walk home along the river. (Safe route-imagining is one of those things that male travelers might not think about as much as female travelers do, I imagine.) The night was almost warm, and it was around 11pm. I’d had just enough vino bianco (one glass) to feel like Florensh was jush greaaaaat, but not enough to stop me from eyeing every street before turning on to it.

Halfway between Ponte Amerigo Vespucci and Ponte I Never Remembered Its Name, I saw a man about 20 feet in front of me. Here is where I always feel a little bit bad when dealing with strange men on the street. My first thought is defense: What might he want, and if I need to run/kick/hit, where will I go and how will I get scrappy? It always seems unfair, because streets are filled with many non-creepy men. But I have to look at them as possible creeps. Initially, at least. But let us return to our friend. (more…)

A broad eats abroad

7 Jun

A broad eats abroad

Food in Italy can be divided into two categories: gelato and everything else. The city is a sweet-fiend’s dream, supported by ice cream shops on seemingly every other corner. Gelateria is Italian for “magical land of smooth ice cream that somehow tastes better than anything back home,” and I considered it my duty to visit as many as possible. Gelato for breakfast? Si. A pre-lunch treat? Of course. My record was four cones in one day, which sounds piggish until you realize that I always order the smallest size. That’s reasonable. The best gelato was at Grom in Florence. I imagined it was made by young surfer boys. (more…)