Honk!
Nope—that's not a duck you hear, it's what was left of my voice this morning. Great. I have to present in an hour and my voice is so bad I would prefer to listen to Macy Gray's attempt at opera.
(Take this time to "YouTube" Macy Gray)
Got it? Good.
We made our way to the Bargello as I convinced Daniel to read my presentation for me. I trusted him with my fun facts. Oddly enough we arrived in two separate groups due to the fact that the drivers in Florence are BLOODY NUTS. So I was close behind Doug and we, along with a couple other students, arrived where we needed to be. A good 15 minutes later the rest of our group joined us.
I presented the Bargello itself and what it was used for. Also, when I say I present I really mean I squeeked corrected words to Daniel when he couldn't read my "drunk three-year-old" writing. Made for an interesting and pretty comical presentation. An hour and 10 other presentations later we reached the last room in the once-a-jail-where-they-killed-people-but-now-a-museum-that-has-a-gift-shop Bargello.
We made our way over to the Church of Santa Croce where things went to shit—fast. While being in the church for less than 5 minutes Stephanie and Laura were kicked out because they were wearing shorts. As soon as this happened we all looked to Nicole who was presenting and also wearing shorts and we made a silent vow to eachother with our eyes to do everything to protect her from God's security. As we toured the church Doug walked beside her—blocking her legs from the side view as I blocked behind while singing the theme to James Bond. It added to the situation. Just as we were walking into the museum part she was spotted by some guards and they started making their way over to her. She saw this and RAN. One of the funniest things I've ever seen. A low-speed chase in a church. Canada being represented well here.
Then we finally made it to the last room in the museum/church and it didn't get any better.
First, half the group wasn't aware we had one final presentation to do so they walked completely out leaving 4 of us (and that was including our teachers). Then an embarrassingly funny happenstance took place when Chanel forgot that her lid was not on her industrial sized water bottle that was resting under her arm. She dropped something and when she bent down to pick it up in the museum, water went everywhere! Now museums are a place where it isn't right to talk louder than the accepted volume in a library—but when something like THAT happens, what are we to do?!
So as we giggle as quietly as possible, Chanel could only find a single tissue from a travel-pack of Kleenex to slop through the lake of a puddle. Doug stood somewhat over it and made jokes like "Looks like I had an accident doesn't it?" Perfect timing Doug. The security guards are already not happy with us—now the crazy Canadians are cracking jokes about it.
And as we are attempting to do some damage-control inside, my cell phone goes off at a startling volume because I had forgotten to switch it to silent mode after my alarm went off in the morning. It was Kayla and the rest of the group outside wondering where everyone is.
Doug and Lorraine have never been prouder I'm sure.
We all had a good laugh outside and shook it off. It was lunch time and we had the afternoon to ourselves until our second cooking class at 7pm.
Shopping and Cocomero Gelato (watermelon) took place.
On tonight's menu was Pizza and Gelato. Banana Sorbet and a basic vanilla-cream gelato to be exact. But that's not all! We were also treated to being taught how to make a dessert sausage. Now, don't do what we did and look quizzical because you're trying to picture meat for dessert (mince meat?). Alessandro, our chef, laughed at our faces. We each were responsible for making an individual pizza—some did it better than others—and just for fun, after each task of making a pizza they would be dispersed to someone new to work on. So in other words by the time we were done they all looked like shit.
We basically watched Alessandro make the Gelato and Sorbet which most of the girls didn't mind doing since we had a weird crush on him. Which when it came time to prepare the sausage and we had to roll and slap the mashed cookies and chocolate got in the way of our concentration. But in our defense when he told us to slap the sausage shaped dessert and to pack it tight how could our minds NOT go into the gutter. Marc was not helping when he asked further—"...how tight?". I bit my lip and closed my eyes tight trying not to laugh.
Dinner was finished and we all got an individual pizza. They tasted good but we all had to take turns sawing into it. The dessert was just as impressive and the dessert sausage shocked us all by it's fantastical taste!
It being a Friday we decided to make our way out for the night. We polished off a couple bottles of wine and headed to a bar. Now usually I get bored at the guys hitting on me in the bar and I start hitting on the bartender. One way I do it is to order drinks from him all night long. My choice of drink with the hunky bartender at this bar probably wasn't the best. It was tequila. Shots of tequila.
Seven shots later he asked for my number and handed me a pen. Success! But wait, now I'm given the task of writing my italian number that I have to go through my phone to copy from? Uh oh. I grasp the pen and grip the pad of paper and as neatly as I can write my name—making sure to include my last so I could get Italian brownie points. I finish my number and go to hand the pad back when I realize I wrote my name and number on the cover of the pad. Whoops.
I make my best "oops I'm a silly girl" face and hand it back to him. He laughes and rips the cover off the pad. Crisis averted. I say goodbye, call him a baby for not doing the shot I got for him (this made him do it instantly) and left.
Matt and I made our way back to the apartment and half-way through the short journey home my heels came off so I could walk faster since all the tequila was ready to come out now.
No, no, no I wasn't going to puke. If you have ever drank with me you would know I'm a champ when it comes to holding my alcohol. This time, I had to pee. I start making my way bare-footed back home. Not a good idea you say? Going to step on something and get hepatitis you say? Well that isn't as embarrassing as being 22 years old and peeing yourself. We ran, well I ran and Matt being 6"4 walked briskly to keep up with me. We were halted by the voice of a fellow Canadian girl living in an apartment 1minute from our place who we talked to on our way TO the bar. I told her "I would love to talk to you but I really have to pee!" and danced in circles below her. She offered her bathroom and I gratefully accepted! Another crisis averted.
I finally got home and put myself the hell to bed.
Those shots totally won't have any ramifications in the morning...
Love & finding another way to hit on bartenders,
V.
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