Back in Florence

After a brief train ride (and an opportunity to dry off a bit) I arrived in Florence full of energy and ready to sight see. Even though I had spent 4 days here already, I decided to make a one-night pit stop for three reasons: 1.) There were a few minor sights that I felt like I still wanted to see, 2.) It was on the way to Siena (my next stop) and 3.) I realized I hadn’t done hardly any picture taking* while I was here and I wanted to document what felt like Florence to me.

First on my list was the Church of Santa Maria Novella, which was actually right near the train station. Supposedly it was packed with art and cheap to enter. I found both to be true, but wishing they had an audio-guide. I did my best to appreciate what I could on my own (and with a few notes from RS) but was soon back out on the street. (Sorry, no pics allowed – and I’m definitely all about following that rule again…)

Second on the list was the Medici Chapel, but before I could go in, I needed to make a pit-stop at a Bancomat; I was low on the cash-flow. So I stopped at one near the Chapel, but was refused funds because my pin number was “incorrect.” This was slightly disconcerting, but I thought I had remembered reading that sometimes European ATMs require 6 digits instead of 4. If that was the case, then I was supposed to just tack 00 (or something) onto the front…or the end…I wasn’t exactly sure, but I knew it was a solvable problem.

But first I simply tried my code again – perhaps I had entered it wrong. No dice. Fine, I’ll try this 00 thing. Still nothing. I decide to try a different ATM since I haven’t had a problem with my code before this; maybe this one in particular is just wonky. So I wait in line at another ATM, but the girl there tells me that the # 2 and 7 buttons don’t work, so if my pin uses either of those, I should go to a different one. Augh – that sucks, but okay. I walk another block and find another Bancomat. As I cross the street to use it, someone gets to it before me. Rats. I try to wait patiently, but now my hunger is starting to become a factor and this whole thing is kind of a nuisance. The person finally finishes and as they move away, a man who had been waiting on the other side of the ATM cuts me off and gets there first. A-nnoying! So I wait….again. When it’s finally my turn, I punch in my 4-digit code, but this time it tells me that my code has been tried too many times – contact my bank. Rut Roh Reorge. That can’t be good.

I try my card in vain a couple other places on my way back toward the hostel, but continue to get the same message. What is it with me and this dang card and having NO MONEY when it’s time to eat? This never happens when I am satiated and can think rationally. Booo! Anyway, I go to the hostel and dig out the fine print on the card and learn a) I can change my code online and b) that if my pin is locked, I’ll have to wait 24 hours for it to be unlocked, or the card-holder can contact the company and have it unlocked immediately.

Alright, this is good; options to fix my problem are good. I first try simply changing the code, but when I test it on a nearby ATM – no luck (I didn’t think it would, but it was worth a shot). I’m really starting to lose patience/get really hungry at this point, so I use my debit card to get a few bucks out so I can eat – at least I’m learning from my experiences, eh?

Next I try calling the card company, but I can’t get either the phone card I had or the one Philip left with me to work. Augh!! SO FRUSTRATING! So I decide to take a little break and check in with friends and fam online (besides, it looked like I was going to have to get my dad involved…my hands were pretty much tied.) Fortunately I log into my gmail account and begin to chat it up with Kristen. Being the awesome friend that she is, I ask her if she would be willing to call the card company for me and find out what’s up. Of course she is more than willing and calls immediately.

As she is dealing with the automated system, she too tries to change my pin to see if it yields a different result. Since she is leaving for lunch soon, I tell her I’ll go try the card in the mean time (and feed myself to boot) and let her know how it goes when she’s back online.

Of course, this does not fix the problem, so I head to the grocery store next to the hostel and buy a liter of milk, a pear and a small jug of Nutella. I eat ALL of these while I wait for Kristen and catch up on the blog (yes – there was a bit of binge/grumpy eating there…it happens to the best of us). I give Kristen the news when she gets back and so she calls the company back, this time navigating through the push-button labyrinth until she speaks to an actual person. She learns that yes, my card is indeed locked, but if the card-holder calls, it will be unlocked immediately. And for future reference, try 00 both before and after the 4 digit code…one of those will work. But I only have three tries before I’m locked out**. Lovely.

So Kristen offers to call my dad for me and tell him the situation so hopefully we can get it taken care of ASAP. What a great idea! Certainly easier than email. So she does and she does (call and get it taken care of ASAP, that is). Yay for super Kristen!! Miraculously my dad is at his desk and answers his phone (this is so rare…you just don’t even know). He is able to call right then (which he does) and then calls Kristen back to confirm (which he does) and she IMs me to tell me I’m in the clear – woo hoo! And I didn’t even have to spend a day hungry and penniless this time around! What a great friend and Dad I have!

So even though I binged on Nutella, Kristen tells me to go spend frivolously on a meal with my new access to funds. So I do. I find a Rick recommended restaurant and order the gnocchi – fantastic!! (I MUST learn how to make these when I come home, I’m obsessed. I probably order them every three days). While I’m enjoying my scrumptious pasta, I overhear at the table across from me that these three women are also here because of Rick’s recommendation. They start talking to the owner/waiter about it and ask him if Rick is a nice guy and did he know he was in the book, etc. Before I know it I’m chiming right in with there conversation and we get to chatting. This eventually attracts the attention of another gal sitting at a table kitty-corner to me (whom I recognize from the hostel last time I was here) and we begin discussing the differences between Italy and America.

In the midst of our conversation, the ladies have ordered panna cotta (which Rick actually recommends getting at this particular restaurant). I ask them how it is and about to order it….but I’m sooo full (stupid Nutella). So I decide I’m coming back here tomorrow at the very least for dessert, but maybe for lunch too.

Soon I part ways with the ladies and make my way back to the hostel. This time around I opted for a cheaper room (shared with more people) since it was only for one night (previously with ferocious sleeper and bag-rustler there were only 6 beds, this time there are 16).

When I finally settle in for the night, I think – this was a great idea; definitely saved a few bucks and for one night, it’s no biggie at all. Wouldn’t you know, I thought too soon. Honestly, about 5 minutes after I completed my thought, two people come into our room (its almost 1am by now), TURN ON THE LIGHTS (big no-no), put all their crap away, make their beds, talk amongst themselves in faux-whispers….augh! It was SO annoying. I was actually shocked at how rude they were being. No concern whatsoever for the other 12 or so people trying to sleep; it’s like we weren’t even there.

Perhaps I wasn’t very tolerant because I hadn’t slept well the previous night (Sally was a ferocious snorer – I spent half the night out in the common room on the couch with a blanket) and all I really wanted was a decent night’s sleep. But it just didn’t look like that was going to happen. Rats.

*Except for my illicit pic of the David, of course ☺

**With all the random ATMs I’ve been using in so many different cities, I can hardly believe I haven’t come across this 6 digit thing before. I mean, it’s been 5 weeks – that’s crazy!