Michela and Marco are heaven sent. The owners of my Florence apartment had no problem with my early arrival. Michela is very pregnant, naturally beautiful, and sweet. Marco looks like a soccer player, not the sexy kind but the cute and goofy kind. He is also very sweet and offers to come back later to carry my luggage up the “authentic Italian” stairs. There are 96, and let’s just say, I won’t have to do any other workouts while in Florence. If there is no posting about me falling down these slippery, steep, and uneven stairs, it will be a miracle.

The apartment is better than I expected, roomy, charming, and pretty nice. It is right downtown on Via Calzaiouli which is good and bad. It reminds of being on Rush Street in Chicago, very touristy but very central.

Most of you are probably wondering why I’m not in Greece or at least Amalfi. Well, I researched both and they were very expensive. I also wasn’t sure I wanted to spend a week on a beach in a small town by myself. I decided to come to Florence early to get my bearings and unpack my suitcase, which I now refer to as my ball and chain. Plus, I had to get a secure internet connection to pay my credit card bill.

Speaking of cash, Italy is a cash only society for the most part. Apparently, it is too expensive to have a bank account here so everyone uses cash. I had to pay for 40 nights plus a security deposit with cash. Although I knew this before I left, I was not prepared. I had to get the cash from credit card who charged me $300 for the privilege. Now that I have said it, I am going to let it go. I hope because it’s killing me. Seriously though, Italy is supposed to be a “developed” nation. I think a decent system for monetary flow is integral to the definition of developed. Apparently, I’m full of shit. Cash only? This is new to me, or old, I’m not sure. I have paid for a 30 cent toll with a check.