May 17 - Innsbruck

Sorry I missed y'all from Florence. There was a big combination of too much to do and see, and not so fun mornings.... oh well. I am sure you didnt miss me all that much. This will be my first somewhat rambling, lack of coherence blog post, as, yeah, you guessed it, I am not all that sober right now. I think that, relatives aside, you've been expecting this, so there's a damn good chance of spelling, grammatical, punctuation, and other errors. And rambling. Its 11:15pm inInnsbruck, and its funny to me that I I shoudnt be in a bar right now, yet I am tapping away at a computer. Go find that logic somewhere. I´ve got a lot to catch up on, so here we go. (please note that due to my less than sober mindframe, there will be an editors´s note or 2 thrown in here - random thoughts thatI felt needed to be said)

Edinburgh was great, I think I´ve already gone there. I got into Florence on thursday and immediately knew it was a great call. I would do the entire city a serious injustice by trying to describe what the city is like, so I am not even going to try. Words cant describe how beautiful Florence is, so Im taking a pass. Do yourself a favor and get there sometime. Seriously. I wouldnt really call myself an art guy, per se, so that should tell you something. Just go. You have to. (EN - there´s a McDonalds next to my hotel in Innsbruck - Gasthof Weisses Kreuz - so I am drilling some fries right now. so good. how about that for an american cultural invasion and ruining my nice florentine intro)

Thursday I got in and wandered around. Id like to thinkI have a decent sense of direction, but in Florence I was royally fucked. I got lost more times than....I dont know. Got lost a lot. After a nice walk, I hit the Trattoria Pendemonio for dinner, which was recco´d to me by a good friend (thanks Natalie). They didnt serve wine by the glass, only the bottle. After about a half a second of wrangling and arm twisting, I relented and got a bottle, which we all know didnt stand a chance. It was my first night in Italy. Come on. A phenomenal 3 course meal later, and an empty bottle, I was feeling good. There were a lot of Americans at the restaurant, some fun, some not. One table of a family of 4 next to me looked as if they were having as much fun as a prostate exam. Ive had more fun at job interviews. No joke. The family buzzkill left and the next thing I knew, the waiter dropped a comp'd bottle of Limoncello on my table. Bad news. For me. Limoncello in italian means lemon death mix in american. Not kidding. I was pouring shots for me, the table next to me, the table next to them, and the italian grandma in the corner. (EN mmmmm fries). This shot was toxic, I had 2 or 3 and I may be a wuss but grandma took it down with ease and essentially called me a ____ (EN you all know what Im saying).

Friday, predicatably, I woke up feeling less than stellar. But i had a big day planned and wasnt going to let a top 10 hangover stop me. Again, I cant do any justice to the sights I saw, so please do yourself a favor and go to Florence and see what I saw. ( EN - I know I have a juvenile sense of humor. I laugh at farts and whenever anyone says the words`"rod" or "sack" - what can I say?? So I got lunch at some pizza place, ordered a sausage slice, which was awesome - I love the language barrier, as the hot server girl came by asked me, no joke, "So, how is your sausage??" After 10 seconds of uncontrollable laughter, I said "amazing" and had to walk out. Not kidding. I wouldnt make this up.) Then I hit the Uffizi, the Galleria Dell Accedemia (both amazing) and then the Duomo. Not just the Duomo, I had a bright idea of going up to the dome of the Duomo. 475 steps. This was the single most harrowing experienjce of my life. I hope you are laughing at me. I went up about 250 steps., and the next thing I knew, I was on a catwalk the width of shoulders....looking down 250 fucking feet. When you combine someone who is afraid of heights with vicious hangover anxiety, you get someone (ie. me) who was scared shiteless. Actually, scared shitless is a monumental understatement to how I felt. Made it to the top though, and have pix to prove it (EN - I still dont know how to upload photos. Me = idiot) I had another 3 course meal that night at Trattoria Zaza, which was awesome, and then hit the hay.

On Saturday, I had another sightseeing day (EN - mmmm fries are good). I hit the Bargello, Museo di San Marco (thanks Dor) and then the Boboli Gardens and Palazzo Pitti. Great day. I went out to dinner and decided to trat myself, as it was my last day in Italy. Got a bottle of wine for dinner (ummm, they only served bottles....wink wink) and another 3 course meal that would make you weep. The table next to me was a super sweet Swiss couple from Bern who were back to Florence for their 30th wedding anniversary, Dieti (his name is Dieter, but he is Swiss German and thus anti German, dont as me, so he goes by Dietie) and Madelaine and they were very, very nice. As a solo traveller, one of the toughest adjustments for me has been to eat all of my meals alone, so the way they interacted with me was very heartfelt. So kind. After dinner, they bought me a shot of grappa, which had a 2fold effect - 1. kicked the sobriety right the fuck out of me and 2. put hair on my chest. No kidding. I went from 6 to 13 after drinking it. And then, much to my dismay, out came the Limoncello/Lemon death mix. Thankfully, I somehow made away with just one shot - after Madelaine took her shot, she was so drunk she looked like she was pledging a soroity - and wandered home. My hotel was about 2 blocks away, yet it took me a solid 15 minutes to get there.

So now I am here in Innsbruck, probably my favorite city on earth. (EN - for my 1 or 2 euro readers out there, please help me understand 3 things about euro men´s fashion - I realized this after people watching for 2 weeks. 1. why do euro men wear skintight shirts?? not a good look. 2. why do euro men wear capri pants? most women dont even wear them also not a good look. 3. why are euro men trying to bring back the mullet?? spanish mullet, english mullet, italimullet....so bad. all 3 looks flamed out (no pun intended) in the 80s - that should have been a sign for them to die and never come back.) I waled around and refreshed my loive for this city. There is something quaint and charming about this place - small town surrounded by mountains. I grabbed dinner at an outdoor garden and decided to try something I had never eaten before. Venison. Much like bungee jumping, a new beer, or a new sex position, this could go one of 2 ways - 1. incredibly amazing and lived up to the hype, or 2. horrendously and famously wrong. Thankfully, my experience was the former and Bambi was delicious. (EN - I hope that made at least one person laugh, because I actually had misgivings about using that joke...)

Alas, my ramblings are coming to an end for tonight. I hope you enjoyed reading about it as much as I did living it.