Florence: The saga continues.

If you haven't read the previous post, please scroll down and read.
Assuming you have read about the shenanigans described in the previous post- please read on:

So there we were in Florence. Dog poopie ground into my pants. It was night and Mike and I were tired. Lo and behold there was a laundromat (The Wash and Dry Lavenderia) located mere steps away from our hotel. We loaded up the washer with all, I repeat ALL of our clothing... ok- we were wearing pajamas! Anyway- We watched our clothes spin around all the wash and rinse cycles, imagining how good it would feel to wear freshly laundered clothing (we had been washing our clothes in the sink with a little bottle of hand wash detergent). Also- I was happy the doggie doo doo was coming out of my jeans without me personally having to touch them. The spin cycle ended... then started again... then slowed... and started again. It kept going and going and going. 10:30 PM and no one had come to close the Wash & Dry that is supposed to close at 10. Mike went to call and 1-800 maintenance number while I stayed to protect the goods. I swear not two minutes after Mike left a young Italian lad walked in. My nightmare of two minutes had come true. He spoke no english and he was trying to throw me out of the laundromat.

After floundering for a few minutes- me attempting to tell the guy that "Mi...esposo...speaks Italian! He'll be right back!". Yeah- the guy didn't get it and didn't care. I tried to tell him the machine was broken. Didn't care. Just wanted to close down the laundromat. Long story short I ended up nearly in tears. Picture me crouched by the side of a malfunctioning washer, breaking down- with an Italian girl who speaks english trying to help me force the washer open. Imagine me almost yelling "I AM NOT LEAVING MY CLOTHING! I am halfway across the world with only these clothes and I WILL NOT LEAVE until it's OPEN!" Apparently the guy didn't understand that every pair of underwear I brought was in that washer. How do you say that in Italian?

Finally calmed down- I resigned myself to the fact that in Italy, being a demanding, fit throwing American does not get you your way. Also- anything can wait til morning in Italy... and with a hot Brioche and some of that awesome breakfast cheese, somehow everything will be fine. We left a note on the laundromat door and in the morning we went in to find the door of the washer mysteriously open. And nothing had been stolen ( I think because my clothing would swallow any Italian woman).

So that's my story about Florence (which has nothing to do with these pictures). Nevertheless- Florence was a beautiful and fun city. I don't hold it accountable for the actions of it's laundromats.



































































Hiking up these steps to get to the alleged "Casa di Michelangelo", a neat church and excellent view.















We found this sculpture in an old church. We went inside when the sun was setting and there weren't any lights in the church (at least not that we could see). This is Abele with his offering.












A spooky little graveyard outside the spooky little church.













Hands down- the most fabulous grapes I have ever eaten. No wonder the wine is so good here... not that I know... or anything....
















You didn't think I would post pictures of Florence without sneaky pictures of the David, did you? And I thought you guys knew me...