14 March, Day 63 Treasure in Toscana

I just came back to Monza after a good week of work with one of our partners outside of Pisa. I took advantage of the weekend in Tuscany to visit some new and older friends in Florence, and explore the hills of Chianti. After eating out 6 nights in a row, I decided to continue the streak, but change the cuisine. I had a terrific dining experience in a Japanese restaurant about 15 minutes from my apartment. I’m not sure what was more noteworthy: the fresh tuna and salmon sushi, or the beautiful Japanese waitresses. There seems to be a definite paucity of both around here.

Let’s go back to the start of the trip one week ago.

I slowed my brisk walk to the train check out a group of six girls loitering on Platform #12 in Milano Centrale. To my amazement, they were speaking English, and it looked like we might be riding the same train. However, my reservation was on the 10AM train to Firenze, in spite of the fact that I made it to the station just in time to catch the 9AM. The foibles of the ticket purchasing process blocked my attempts at from buying a ticket for the 9AM at 8:39. In any case, I was ready to board this train so I asked one of the conductors if there were seats available, and if there was a penalty riding with my ticket. He said it would be 8 euros, and I could probably find a seat around the middle of the train in the 6th or 7th carriage. I decided to go to the 10th carriage and sit in the seat assigned to me there on the 10AM train hoping to avoid the fine.

Coincidentally, the American girls were bantering together a few rows behind me! I settled into (my) seat and counted the minutes before the train would leave. But then a small blond girl approached me and stuttered, “Pa-paarli ingeles?” I beamed, “As a matter of fact, I do!” I was hoping this might turn into a more pleasant 3 hours than I’d planned on! So I made a new friend --a girl from New Hampshire studying architecture in Milan. Soon the rightful ticket owner arrived and ousted me from (my) seat, but I lingered in the aisle talking for nearly an hour before the conversation began to taper off and I excused myself to take a nap in an empty seat. The evidence is mounting up that I’d have quite a different (social) experience if I were living closer to the center of Milan. I regret not devoting more diligence to my apartment search, but living a handful of kilometers away from the action should not be enough to exclude me from the games if I try a little harder. –I just have to make a few more connections.

I woke up about a half hour before our scheduled arrival. The American girls were still talking and giggling in the background. They seemed like the loudest ones on the train. I eavesdropped on their conversation from (my)-(new) seat, but soon became disinterested in their nonsensical chatter about a guinea pig that had passed away during their younger years. I opened my new book about a seduction artist that I started reading about a week ago. I was finding the content more interesting than my last book, and I was hoping to make some good progress this week.

We arrived in Firenze, and I said goodbye to Ms. New Hampshire without ever asking her name. I thought it was a little weird to part so anonymously after talking about an hour, but I didn’t want to seem like I was prying.

Soon I arrived in our partner’s office outside of Pisa and worked though the afternoon on some coriolis force calculations for a mechanism I’m designing. I was happy to put them aside when it was finally time to call it a day. I strolled Pontedera looking to select a restaurant for dinner. I eventually selected a seafood joint and had a decent pasta dish and some fried fish that included a few bits of calamari that may be the best I’ve ever had.

I began to my stroll back to the hotel, but took a detour into a bar that looked way too happening to pass up. Inside was a model-shoot. I asked a couple of guys what this was all about, and they explained that this was for the spring collection of a locally made brand of jeans. The place was swarming with people. I felt consciously out of place in my white tee shirt in this fashionable environment. To my disappointment, there was an aperitivo large enough that I could have made a dinner out of it if I hadn’t already eaten. So I ordered a drink and decided to observe the proceedings. The fashion show ended, but the party didn’t seem to miss a beat.

At some point I found myself standing close to one of the models. She was a pretty girl, about my height, with long dark hair, and dark eye makeup that was strange bordering on artistic. The eye makeup made for an easy opener as she laughed that she doesn’t always go around like this. I was surprised to find her to be rather down to earth, and would’ve liked to get to know her a little better, but she excused herself and left with some other guys. Two men standing next to me approached in a way that might’ve raised my gaydar, but they were obviously more interested in learning more about the girl I had just finished talking to than they were interested in me. A bit later I found myself talking to another girl, and I eventually closed the night by collecting her phone number. I felt like quite the player when she typed her name into my phone and it said that name already exists!