This past weekend, we got to visit a town called Bologna. It was such a relaxing, eventful, and different experience. I still don’t know my exact feelings on this topic, but we had a great time! We stayed at a new, reasonably priced hotel just outside the city limits. Besides the long bus rides to the city, I’d say our accommodation was perfect. Speaking of bus rides, I think our group of five (Mary Beth, Meg, Tiffany, Coleen and I) made a rather large impression on the Bologna Bus drivers. We probably should send them a thank-you card.
I want to share a few stories with you guys. I’ll start off with our first bus ride to the hotel. Mistake #1: After arriving in Bologna, we boarded Bus 25 headed in the wrong direction and road for almost an hour. Mistake #2: After getting off the wrong Bus 25, boarding the right Bus 25, we quickly grew impatient and got off the bus at a stop by the fountain. It was obviously not the right one, and the bus driver honked for us to get back on so he could continue his route. Mistake #3: After riding for another half-hour, we all were in deep discussion (about men or something) and one of the passengers started yelling in jumbled English, “you need that bus!” Mistake #4: After we changed buses, we got off one stop too early and walked to where the bus was parked—the last stop on the bus route; the stop for our hotel. Yes, we were pretty far out there, but, it shouldn’t have taken us 2.5 hours to get there.
For our second bus adventure, I’d like to quote a few passages written in one of our roommates travel journals.
“Scary Ticket Police” recorded by Tiffany Crowl
“My biggest fear became a reality tonight as we got caught riding the Bologna buses without a ticket. We had been riding the buses all day without purchasing a ticket because the cost of a bus ticket is similar to the price of a gelato—which a gelato seemed more important than a bus ticket and we are all a little tight on money anyhow. But, each time we got on the bus I almost wanted to go without my gelato because I feared getting caught. Since Colleen, Mary Beth, Meg, and Lizard never seemed to worry, so why should I? Then as we were interring the bus headed into town for a crazy night of pizza and gelato, Lizard suggested we get a ticket. Everyone ignored the request because, hey, we got around free all day today. Then it happened, two men in blue coats stepped on our bus. My heart began to race and I couldn’t see straight. I tried to hide the terror that I was feeling inside. The bus police got out his pad and began writing a ticket to two guys behind us. I turned to Lizard; she was the only one who noticed the trouble we were in at this point. My armpits began to sweat intensely. He was coming to us next. The bus had to stop soon. We had to get off! Then, everyone was aware of the situation and we made plans in mumbled English to calmly get off the bus at the next stop. The time between stops felt like an eternity. Then, it finally stopped. The doors opened and I could smell the freedom of the cool nights air. As Lizard made strides toward the exit, she was stopped by the bus polices’ arm and a gruff voice. We tried to play the dumb American card. I even gave him the ticket we had bought yesterday and I acted like I thought it was good. He did not fall for it. We were trapped. The bus doors closed and I felt that I was being held captive. We calmly walked to the front of the bus, bought a bus ticket, and strategized our escape. Moving to the front bought us a little time but we had to get off. I felt so trapped. We begged the bus driver to open the front door and we got out and walked away as fast as possible. We had successfully escaped the ticket police. Although this situation was scary, it will not prevent us from riding the buses free."
Another excerpt is by our new friend Colleen from London who was visiting us for the week. This is our last and final bus adventure.
“…the last bus ride home. We were parading down the road, owning it as American girls do—after our final dinner in Bologna and all of a sudden (as most of us are probably dreaming of when our next bite of Nutella will sweetly visit our lips), we hear Meg yell “Bus 25!” cuing our bus. We know this bus well—as it was one of the main places we spent our time in Bologna. Anyway, back to the story—at this burst of information—Mary and I stop our boisterous singing and in single-file-unison, our bodies full or pizza, panne, nutella, crepes and cromboline—start sprinting in ridiculously SLOW-motion to catch this bus as if our lives depended on it. I don’t know what the streets full of Bologna locals thought of us, but all I could hear was uncontrollable American laughter as our feet slowly pounded to the bus, in fear we might have to walk any further with our bellies. Needless to say, we caught it, and I don’t think Bologna has had a show like that in a long while.”
Although we had a rather peculiar trip, I would still recommend Bologna to anyone. They might just need to get a bus route map before boarding a Bolognian bus :)
Yesterday, my umbrella officially broke. It had been hanging on for the past week, but now it’s completely lacking three stems. It has been raining almost every day, but on Monday we were able to see the big blue. One of my classes took a tour of the fresh food markets. It’s probably my new favorite places! There are street vendors everywhere from 7am-2pm selling their fresh produce straight from their farms. My teacher Martina said they drive for miles every morning just to sell their produce in Firenze. I can’t tell you how much I have grown to admire the Italian lifestyle and culture.
I am very thankful to be studying here, though I do wish there weren’t so many Americans. I feel like everywhere I turn, there is another American student. I didn’t realize that FUA wasn’t the only American University in Firenze. I guess that’s just me being naive. Overall, I do like my classes. I am enjoying my culture and language classes because we have been able to interact with true Florentines. Also, my Fashion and Religion classes seem to be very interesting so far. The only class I constantly complain about is my writing class. I think it’s just because I’m not used to my teachers style of teaching, or rather the type of competitive atmosphere he allows the students to create. I just hope I adjust, so I will improve on my writing skills.
