Italy: African and Italian Beauty

I had set my alarm to wake me up pretty early the next morning cause I wanted to avoid the long queue at the Uffizi, so I was up by 6.30 and taking a shower and getting cute. One thing I really loved about Italy were the square toilets. Now to answer my aunt's question, no...I did not have a toilet that was a tiled hole in the floor. lol. My toilet was pretty modern as you can see. Everywhere I went, there was a lovely square toilet. I want a square toilet!

The complimentary breakfast at the hotel was pretty good. I am not a very heavy breakfast person, nor very Trini when it comes to my breakfasts, so I don't typically eat things like sada roti and choka, or hops and sausage. lol. I usually have cereal and soy milk so continental breakfasts are never a problem for me. But this was a lot. I had a pretty merry serving of croissants, Italian bread, muesli, fruit, yogurt, fruit juice and of course cappuccino. The breakfast experience would have been much better if it had not been for the Japanese guest who clearly had no social graces when it came to eating and the way he was shovelling, and smacking his lips, and slurping the coffee, was enough to make me want to leave the dining area. I also had an amusing albeit slightly annoying conversation with one of the hotel staff. He was very sweet and I was not annoyed with him as much as I was annoyed by Italian ignorance which I was being faced with for the 4th time in less than 24 hours. So I am trying to be the polite tourist and say please and thanks and other little things in Italian. He brings me my capuccino.

Me: Grazie
Him: Prego. How do you say "Thank you" in your country.
Me: Thank You.
Him: No no...in Italy, "grazie", in inglese, "thank you". What is it in your country?
Me: (inner eye roll) "Thank you". We speak English in Trinidad.
Him: No African language?
Me: Trinidad is not in Africa. Umm...near Venezuela.
Him: Ahhhhh...si si si....Trinidad.

If I taught one Italian something, my life is richer today. He did manage to tell me I was lovely and he would want to visit my country one day. I forgave his ignorance after that.

I grabbed a peach and my map and trusty travel bag, packed with Clean and Clear oil absorbent sheets (a must-have anywhere), my camera, water and anti bacterial lotion, and headed outside into what was still the cool Florentine morning. The Duomo looked even more beautiful without the bag o' tourists blocking the view, as did the Piazza della Signoria where I stood and gazed at the sculptures for about 30 minutes, with the sun's heat starting to sear into my skin. I walked through the Palazzo Vecchio for a while, admiring the architecture and enjoying the shade, before I was accosted by the already long line at the Uffizi. I muttered to myself "Not me and this shit" and kept walking towards the Arno River. The river is beautiful at 8am and even with the tourist life buzzing around me, it was rather peaceful. I walked towards the Ponte de Vecchio, trying to convince myself that I did not really need to see the fantastic Renaissance works behind the Uffizi walls but failed miserably and walked right back and joined the long queue, with my Firenze fan in hand. As I mentioned before I struck up a brief friendship with a woman originally from Paraguay and we chatted haltingly in Spanish for 2 hours until I got to the head of the line and inside the gallery.

I was in heaven for the next 4 hours, though the hell of standing in that heat for 2 hours really broke me down and just before I entered the room with Michelangelo's masterpieces, I had to run to the expensive ass cafeteria to get some sustenance if I were not to faint in the gallery. That and my hawked peach from breakfast surely saved me. But just as I had enjoyed the Louvre, I enjoyed Uffizi and walked the length and breadth of it until I was tired.

Foolishly, I thought somehow I could have managed to walk along the Ponte de Vecchio without some lunch, with only a cookies and cream gelato in my stomach, but nah...the sun was really doing its worst and I had been walking for what seemed like eons so I stopped at a trattoria and ordered a pizza which was epic, both as a single serving and in taste. I loved sitting there just watching the people and the Vespas pass by, and snickered every time someone walked in and left the door open, causing the owner to curse in Italian as his precious airconditioning was being compromised by the heat coming through the open door. He sat with me for a couple minutes to ask me where I was from because I seemed to be a real oddity. I was not a street person, did not look nashy but rather posh and divaesque and was not with a sugardaddy so I was as rare as the Uffizi art and every Italian man I came into contact with was curious. It was very hilarious.

With my guts overstuffed and my wine palate once again satisfied, I paid for my pizza and decided I would walk to the Boboli Gardens for some rest and nature.

Next: Part 3: Italy: The Day the Slushie was King to the Trini Queen

Read more »

Italy: Planes, Trains and Flip Flops

Now that I am back home and back at work - thus back to boredom, I can write about Italy a little.

The Trini saying of cheap ting nah good rings true when one thinks of Ryanair. Without a doubt, this was the worst flight of my life, beating back even Tobago Express. I mean, not only was the check in annoying, but the constant hawking of Ryanair related products and services throughout the 2 hour flight was beyond intolerable. Travel tip: Take your MP3 player with you on any cheap airline service. You will need it.

When we landed in Pisa, it was supremely hot and I was glad I had dressed for the weather and packed for it as well, by which I mean, one small bag and no load. The sacrifice of leaving behind makeup, lotions etc was much appreciated at that point. Italians though are not very good with instructions or directions. Signage at this little airport was preposterous and as friendly as the ticket lady was, she did not fully explain that I needed to change trains when I bought my train ticket for the commute from the aiport to Florence. So while my ticket said Pisa Airport to Florence, nowhere did it say, train will change at Pisa Centrale. So there I am, sitting, chilling my heels waiting for the train that says Airport to Florence, when I should have been looking for Airport to Pisa Centrale. So the train is sitting there, I am looking at it - me and my fellow tourists with similar tickets in hand - and we are all clueless that this is our train. But I dunno what it was that made me go to the train conductor and ask, and sure enough, this was when I learnt that we needed to take this train to Pisa Centrale and then change to the train to Firenze. I swear, communication is a helluva thing.

The other bad thing about the cheap airlines is that they fly to the Pisa Airport which is about 90mins away by train from the city centre, and there is not much to see on the way in, except run down neighbourhoods as is to be expected around any rail line. But once we got to Florence, and I walked out of the station, there it was - beauty and magic. The beautiful old world city of Florence or Firenze.

Now I am really challenged when it comes to reading maps and the like cause somehow I always end up going the wrong way, so it took me a little while to find the hotel, and by the time I did, I was hot and greasy. I chuckled to myself as the receptionist at the Hotel Nuova Italia took one look at me and decided I could not be a guest at HER hotel at all. When I confirmed that I was indeed staying there, she grudgingly passed over my key. My own reflection made me laugh - wild airplane hair, smudged mascara, etc. I just looked like something the cat dragged in so I quickly did a makeover so by the time I flounced down the stairs all fresh and diva-esque the receptionist's heart was lifted cause I know she was probably nervous that she had let some street person into the place. lol. But the hotel was lovely. The best service ever, and spotless rooms, great bath products which I appreciated since I was dreaming about my Bath and Body Works gels, lotions and spritzes all on my dresser in London.

I spent the next few hours traversing the cobble stoned streets of Florence, in my flip flops, amongst a throng of tourists. The Japanese tourists, my arch nemeses of travel, were out in their numbers. It's like they are on every single vacation with their cameras, taking photos of every insect, every stone, every blade of grass. lol. Gotta love their enthusiasm though. I virtually mapped out where I would go the next day and then sat my weary ass down on the steps of the Duomo, with a tiramisu gelato. As my coffee tinged milky goodness ran down my arm in the searing heat, the old dude next to me decided it would be as good a time as any to try to make his move on the cute black girl next to him. I got every positive English word he could muster, and a dinner invitation to his house for pasta. Sadly for him, he was too old, and his teeth too black from tobacco to make a good impression.

I went back to my room to wash the sticky ice cream off my hands and then consulted my brand new friend, aka the receptionist, who now thought I was unique and stunning and was ever so eager to help, on where to go for dinner. I eventually ended up at the little place just outside the hotel door, Trattoria Antichi Cancelli, where I had bruschetta, lasagna and a lovely red wine. Highly recommend the food here, coupled with exceptional service.

I went back to my room, took a long long hot shower and then got to bed cause the next day was all about Uffizi, and walking across the city.

Next - Part 2: Italy: African and Italian Beauty

Read more »

Back to Reality

So I am back home and what an "up yours", it has been so far. I needed to renew my driver's permit so I would be legal to speed on the nation's highways. Get to the office near my house and the woman gives me her best Third World answer:

I can give you a form but the camera is not working so you would need to go to another licensing office.

Welcome home!!!

I was loathe to do it because I knew what I was going to meet at 9.00am but I went to the San Fernando office to get the job done. I will spare you the mind numbing details but it took almost 4 hours to pay for the renewal, get the photo taken and have the little Third World permit laminated. 4 hours! Never in my life was I so annoyed as I was sitting on the old rickety benches this morning waiting for these people to get their act together. I mean, the volume of people who come in to that office is tremendous so why on earth would you have one person to check the completed forms, one person to accept payment, and one person to take the stupid photo? And then the one person who had to laminate the permits was busy talking on the phone while I looked at the product of my then 3.5 hour wait sitting on her desk just waiting for the plastic jacket and some heat. I almost ran up to the desk and up her chest and told her I would go laminate it myself. I mean, seriously!!!! I left there so vex you could see the steam coming out of my ears.

Then, after not having breakfast nor a regularly scheduled 12noon lunch, and after making a Hi-Lo stop, where I had to tell some jackass to haul something, I decided to go to Eat It to get some bbq chicken, but on the way the traffic buildup was horrendous, adding to an already ridiculous kinda day so I did a 3 point turn and changed direction and headed to....you guessed it...

KFC. My arch nemesis.

As if the magical ineptitude of yesterday's near KFC experience was not enough, God saw fit to make it a double, in less than 24 hours. So I decided to forego the drive thru after yesterday's over the phone experience and go meet the bad customer service face to face. I am always amazed that every time KFC advertises something I would actually want to eat, and they do a very good job of promoting these items I may add, they never seem to have them. I get to the counter after 15 mins of waiting and order the 3 piece crispy strip combo, and the girl takes my $39 (needed a biscuit too) and tells me it would be a 3-min wait for the strips. Twelve minutes later, I am still strip-less and she comes to tell me her supervisor would come out to talk to me. Never a good sign. I mean, shit...even to get some chicken in this place is a task. The supervisor keeps me waiting for yet another 5 minutes and then tells me the strips were marinating and it would be 30mins and did I want to wait, or order something else. You serious, lady?? I was not going to wait 30 mins for some fried chicken and a biscuit, nor do I eat any other KFC item so I asked for a refund. I was beyond exasperated at this point.

To her credit, not only did I get my refund but she also wrapped up a free Cruncher and a bottle of water for my troubles. I sat in the carpark with my free sandwich and inhaled it before I passed out from sheer hunger and exhaustion. The glowy joy of vacation was gone, that was for sure. Gone!!!!

Read more »

Speaking legs

Last evening I braved the chill, rain and sure pneumonia to meet Cat at Sadler's Wells Theatre to catch Tanguera, the tango musical. It was worth every sneeze, every sniffle and every cough I am fighting this morning. It was mesmerising,  beautiful, provocative and totally enjoyable. A story told primarily via legs and no words. Beautiful. Just beautiful. I would recommend it to anyone who has the opportunity to see it. Thanks to the lovely Cat for such a treat!!!

Cat and I had also gone to see Sweet Charity earlier in my vacation, which was also quite good. I love the theatre, good theatre that is.

I have been really craving a Trini roti though. It's been too long since I had some proper curry. I even dreamt about it last night so I may take the train to get it. There is no price I would not pay today for a dhalpuri.

Tanguera teaser.

Read more »

Sniffles, no snuggles

Coming down with a cold. I think between standing in the cold on Saturday morning, Saturday night and Sunday evening, and then with the weather being hot and then 2 mins later, chilly, this was bound to happen.

The bbq was fab. Everyone had a great time, and the pelau was well embraced by all, and I was completely toasty after copious volumes of wine in all colours and nationalities. I just lay on the couch with a huge smile on my face, and bepped until 3am. Then we faced a seemingly unassailable task of cleaning up the kitchen before I finally hit the bed at 5am. At noon I was dressed and off to cricket, where the team I was expected to support was totally abysmal. I mean, there I was, all cute and imaginary pom poms in hand and the team allowed a bunch of fat, rolly polly Brits beat them. However, I must add that 90% of the team were out until 5am at a soca party and were nursing hangovers and more. It was really hilarious. The eye candy on the other team (not the fatties) was marvellous, and behind my sunglasses I smiled lustily. The smiling did not last very long as the cold winds picked up and my cute outfit complemented by a matching pashmina just were no match for the biting Blighty breeze and I knew this cold would soon take hold of my brown Trini body.

Last night's post-cricket dinner was jerk chicken and wine, and it was another late night so it was not a happy woman who rolled off the bed at 7am to keep an appointment outside of central London. Add the sniffles and cold-induced arthritis (I'm sure that is what this shoulder pain is all about) and I am not the hottest thing out today. I am going to drown in some ice cream, Redoxon, Comtrex, white wine and sleep and hope to feel better in the morning.

Read more »