Florence, the city of my dreams

For various reasons, I have dreamed of going to Florence for over 10 years. The more and more I heard about it, the more and I more I built it up in my mind as this magical place. This was also cemented by the fact that everytime I've been in Tuscany, I have been wowed by how beautiful that part of Italy is. I've also always been frustrated by how close I've gotten to the city, and yet, never been there.

Well, sometimes dreams come true, sometimes they don't. I've come to realize over time that while traveling, things can go wrong, even if you really try to plan everything to the last minute detail. Florence is one of those times. As much as I'd love to write about the city, I honestly did not meet anyone this time, and didn't see anything that struck me as "purely Florence."

Yet this time just proves, as always, that despite the glories of public transportation, there are some downfalls. I used to complain about how American trains, buses, and coaches are always late. You could always count on showing up at least 15 or 20 minutes after the printed scheduled time, and at the worst more than an hour. I always proudly bragged to everyone at home how organized the European system is, how smooth those trains are, and how buses show up on time. I should make at least one exception to this rule, of course, if not more as soon as I discover them. The first being the Italian train.

The first few times I've been late on Italian trains I wrote it off as exceptions to the rule. This last trip, however, with a train 2 hours late getting in to Milan, I started reassessing the situation. Maybe there is some truth to what Antonella has been telling me. Those beautiful (cough), clean (cough cough), trains that I have been taking back and forth around Italy have been late one too many times.

The best part is watching the Italians. Compared to the average train going crowd in say, Hayward California, they looked pretty calm, considering how late the train was. However on the train, if you were to compare them to the average group of bus passengers in Reunion, they were definitely more agitated. More In my compartment, there were three of us, listening to our iPods, talking on our cellphones, and lulling off to sleep. Of course the instant we got back to Milan, everyone bolted out the door, running around. Again, the rushing, bustling city life. Even I ran out, hoping to have at least enough time to meet up with my friends. Never again, will I make the assumption that all trains in Europe are equal. I guess I'll have to move to Switzerland.