The tourist situation is even worse here than in Rome. I suppose I shouldnt be so critical. But the locals really have kinda fled Florence for the balance of the season and I have to admit thats a little disapointing. Last night I dined at a lovely establishment and virtually every table around me was occupied by english-speaking tourists. On my left was a family of pasty British potatoes lamenting the poor breakfast service at their hotel. On the right was an American family from NYC, the kid exclaiming, "Dad, these biscuits taste just like the ones we bought at Whole Foods!". The table behind me was an Australian couple discussing which wine they wanted and across from me was an American girl brousing through the same Time Out Florence guidebook I had. I ended up cruising the waiters (who, btw, were gorge) as the main semblence of authenticity. Its the same way when you hit the streets, everybody carrying their maps and all. Still though, Florence is pretty and the Tuscan countryside surrounding the city is spectacular. Im glad I got to see it.

Florence has only one sauna. I checked it out last night and it was slow. Resigned, I start getting it on with the only do-able one in the place. I presumed he was not Italian with his bright blonde curls, but Id hoped he was at least from the European continent. If only he would have kept his mouth shut during the session I could pretend anyway. As we began getting busy he starts talking about how he is from Tallahasee, Florida and how he doesnt know if he is "straight, gay or bisexual". Please. I promptly put my towel back on and left the room without finishing. Bah!

So I ended up screwing the young bartender who worked there, a native. A slender thing with thick black curls who ditched his apron soon after I arrived. Not "hot" but cute. I was grateful when he gently laid on his back, lifted his knees to his chest and guided me inside his pink Florentine giardino. Afterward he said, "you hava ze cock like African". I just smiled. *wink*nudge.

Now this bartender is my new friend. Tonight he is taking me to the one gay disco in Florence. We shall see how that goes, especially tomorrow when I have to catch an 8 a.m. train to Genoa with a mild hangover.

At its center Florence has a gigantic dome building called the Duomo which dominates the whole landscape. Pretty impressive and very detailed.

Ahh "roman holiday" ... good that you are gettin the salami! Mandingo man!

Hey Ho,
Get your bartender friend to take you to a bar called Crisco...may be too late now but I think you will like it there!

The salami is sposed to be good in Genoa, maybe your luck will get even better.

Be sure to ask for lots of "Pompini" where ever you go.

CALAMITY JANE GOES TO GENOA

Crisco was cute, Jimmy! Well, in a way reminiscent of The Eagle anyway. Kinda sorta catering to bears & leather but kinda not. But I drank lightly before turning into Calamity Jane today.

This morning at 7:30 a.m. Im freaking out in my hotel room thinking Ive lost my passport. My train leaves at 8 and there is no time to spare as I dump all my luggage and re-pack it again trying to find my passport, only to discover as Im checking out at the front desk that the hotel conceirge had it all the time. Evidently its their policy to hold it during the guests stay, which the clerk who checked me in (and who spoke perfect English) failed to inform me of. I was so relieved when he pulled out my passport I nearly fainted. Then, calamity #2 there is some sort of mix-up with my credit card, they want to charge me again for my stay even though I prepaid. So while Im trying to sort that out the clock is ticking and its 7:45 a.m. Major nervous anxiety. The clerk calls a cab and I hightail it to the train station and make my train less than 2 minutes before it leaves. I hadnt even found my assigned compartment and seat yet as the train starts pulling out of the station. That was a close one!

Other minor calamities: I get to Genoa and get off at the wrong station (it seems Genoa has several). Had to get back on another train and get to the correct one. Way too many Lucy Ricardo moments thus far. Finally, having arrived at the right place to make my connection to Nice later today, I check my luggage and stroll around ... only to see this punk/homeless kid abusing his dog, which really kind of upset me. The dog had just pounced on another dog, so as punishment the kid was slapping him around and actually biting him, causing the dog to yelp in pain. I ran over along with a bunch of women who saw this and yelled at him to stop, so he did. But it bugged me. After all this I chilled at an outdoor cafe for a leisurely lunch, then walked around for an hour or so snapping photos. I have about an hour left before I head across the street and catch my connection train to Nice. Basically I wont feel completely OK until I get to my hotel room on the beach.

RAUNCH & SLEAZE IN GENOA

So after lunch and a bit of walking around, I notice how cruisy Genoa is. Much more overt than Rome or Florence. A lot of the shops here are closed and I dont hear any English, so it makes me a little hot. So I head into this x-rated movie theatre, an old-style jism-coated one like they used to have in Times Square with a huge movie screen and theatre seating. There is only the theatre itself and the bathroom, no other rooms. The film they were showing was straight porn, two guys double decking this woman in both ports and shes moaning in italian. The stallions pounding her were cursing too --- I wish I could remember now the words they use for "dick", "pussy" etc. so I could use them myself. They sounded so filthy. Needless to say I recovered some exquisite salami in the bathroom! A real pig, some 30-something hunk-himbo with a wedding ring and a deep deep tan. After he left oozing icing all over my chin, he pulls out a hankie and wipes his own palms and then leaves without so much as a goodbye -- Bless!!! *oink* A necessary antedote after all that sitcom-worthy mayhem this morning. Now I feel better.

Italy makes the best ice cream.

That punk kid gave the women this long explanation about what was happening with his dog. In Italian, so I couldnt understand. I hope the dog is OK.

Once my train ride from Florence got off, it was a nice ride. We passed all these spectacular seaside Italian towns with cliffs and gorgeous houses overlooking. Splendid countrysides too. Theres a big beautiful world out here.

Ahhh such sweet prose....
sure its ice cream that you are eating over there!
Am just jealous!
The passport thing...we are coming up to a long stretch of mercury in retrograde and all sorts of crazy things happening here too...
Genoa definately sounds like the birthplace of the big sausage. Bravo!

Genoa salami. What'd I tell ya. Never say basta.