It was the night before Easter and all through the town, not a room was available, not a single one around.

Here we were, just off the train from Rome and all prepared to crash in our Florence apartment for a nine-day stay.  It was Easter weekend, and the city was packed with tourists and students— the busiest weekend of the year.  Boy, were we happy we had confirmed reservations! 

Confirmed in Italy does not necessarily imply that the agency you are renting from will have your apartment.  It’s not really a commitment.  (Some U.S. hotels are getting like this too, so I’m not picking on the Italians;after all, my grandfather and grandmother were born here.)  In fact, our apartment became mysteriously “unavailable.” “Unavailable”  I suspect meant that 1) a relative showed up and needed a place to stay or 2) the agency could make more money by renting the apartment to someone else.  Regardless here we were, no place to stay, it’s late on the Saturday before Easter, we’re speaking little Italian and totally clueless about what we were going to do next.

Now comes the agent from whom we had rented the apartment.  He had a deal for us—another apartment in the same building.   We took a look.  It was small, dirty, dark and had no Internet access.  We said “No.” This is a big agency and has lots of apartments in Florence—find us something comparable to our “confirmed reservation.”  Well, he couldn’t do that because this was the busiest weekend in Florence, and everything was booked.  His tone suggested we had better take what he was offering or be prepared to sleep under a bridge.

Now Florence is beautiful and had the weather been warmer and not raining, sleeping under the famed Ponte Vecchio wouldn’t have been all that bad.  The Arno was below flood stage. What could go wrong?  Our agent waited patiently for us to cave in and accept his offer.  After all, where would we go.  Two foreigners in a hostile land?  We had paid a deposit, but we had our euros tucked safely in our pockets, so we looked disaster in the face and told him we were VERY disappointed in his agency (italy-accom.com) and that his “solution” was unacceptable.  Off we went, and that was one surprised Brit.  We had no idea what we were going to do next, but it was good to be free of this agent, agency and the mess it had created for us.

I do think God provides social workers with some kind of special protection because as we mulled over our limited options, a little Italian “nona” appeared who was to rescue us from the mean streets of Florence.  I can’t tell you her name or how we met her, to protect her identity, but she just happened to have a recently remodeled apartment that heretofore only her relatives were permitted to use.  It was very clean, bright, well located and cheap, um, relatively cheap.  Nothing is cheap in Florence. 

See our Florence Apartment in this video

Anyway, our little angel of mercy let us have this great apartment for our entire nine-day stay.  She and her husband were wonderful.  We spoke very little Italian, and they spoke very little English, but we got along so well that it was all hugs and kisses when we left.  These Italians are fine people.  (The two people at italy-accom.com were not Italians: the owner of the apartment was an American and the agent was a Brit.)

So there’s a moral to this story.  First, avoid this agency unless you are a VERY lucky person.  Second, always have a backup plan.  It’s not that something might go wrong, something WILL go wrong.  Before you leave your little nest at home, make sure you have alternate emergency accommodations figured out, know where critical services are located like an English-speaking hospital, American embassy (not that they’ll do much for you), and have a WiFi-capable computer or cell phone with you, both if possible. 

I’m glad we treated the Italians well after WWII.  Those of you who don’t remember should know that Italy was an Axis power on the side of Germany during the war.  I can’t help but believe that some of the kindness shown to us by these older Italians had something to do with their good memories of Americans after the war.  They never talked about it, but I think so.

By the way, everyone over here dislikes George Bush.  I think I could live here. 

 
This is proof!  The exchange rate today is $1.52 to one euro.  You can see that a big mac, Coke and fries is 6.2 euros x 1.52 or $9.52 American.

Once again, thank you George Bush.

The Palm Springs Aerial Tramway rises 8,500 feet from the Palm Springs valley floor to the top of the San Jacinto Mountains.  This is not a trip for the faint of heart.  If you’re afraid of heights, don’t do this.  You are toying with death here.   The Swiss-built tram car holds 80 people and takes 11 hours to make it to the top.  It’s actually 11 minutes, but it feels like 11 hours. 

Do not eat before boarding, and do not look down. Hold on for dear life when the car passes one of the four towers on its way up, and everyone screams including the guy in charge of the car.  Yes, there are safety features and backup things, etc., but if anything happens, you’re toast. Period.  Everything eventually breaks, right?  (Look at the country under George Bush)  No-one can get you off that tram when it’s stuck nearly one and half miles up in the sky, except perhaps a helicopter.  Don’t bother.  Climbing up through the escape hatch to the roof of the tram would kill the average person from shear fright.   And once you’re up there, you have to go back down.  There’s no other way but by tram.  So when you get to the top, remember, it’s only half over. 

It’s not all bad.  The scenery is spectacular, and you can see forever from up there.  You can also hike, snowboard and cross-country ski while on the summit.  And there are several restaurants and a bar for those who need liquid fortification before descending in the tram.  The tram also runs at night, which offers the added benefit of not letting you see what you’re going to hit if the cable breaks. 

No contest here—Palm Springs (PS) is the better place to be.  The mountains surrounding PS are taller, closer and much more impressive.  There is a lot of green, both grass and trees.  PS sits on top of a huge aquifer with water expected to last another two hundred years.  Of course, at that point, there will be big problems.  But look on the bright side, if we keep electing people like George Bush, we’ll all be toast long before the water runs out.

The people here are also much more diverse than in Phoenix.  To be sure, there are lots of retiree/golfer types in this neck of the woods too, but there are also regular folks and some regular places to shop.  And if you have an issue with “gayness” stay away. 

This is a very big gay destination.  They have revitalized this town, which ten years ago was a broken-down, has-been kind of place.  It has changed dramatically and is getting better all the time.  As a demographic group, gays have more spendable income, tend to be liberal, creative and willing to take risks that the rest of us probably wouldn’t.  In fact, my advice is this: if you don’t have any gay friends, find some.  They know all the best places to visit, to eat, to shop, to decorate, to live.  If you know of a place frequented by gays, try and get a reservation; it’s very likely the best of whatever it is.  The gays we’ve met here are simply great people.  They are friendly, interesting, outgoing, socially conscious, love dogs and make great sons/daughters.  I have stories I won’t share here about how some of these friends of mine are taking care of their parents—even a tried-and-true homophobe would have to be impressed.  Fifty-five percent of the American people do not see being gay as a moral issue—what is wrong with the other 45%?  Hitler gassed not only Jews, but gypsies, gays and the mentally ill as well, which is to point out that anti-gay feelings have been around a long time like so many other prejudices. 

I promised myself I was going to keep this as a travel blog and not make it political.  I will try harder.  Who needs another big mouth? I’m starting to sound like JJ.