Christina di Firenze

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This is Christina. She’s an Italian Animator and Artist who I met in Florence.

She likes birds. She likes birds because “They travel, go wherever they need to go but they need one thing. A warm nest”

She runs a hotel with her sisters in the city center. It has a panoramic view of Florence from the rooftop.

Its called The Panorama Hotel.

She decorates the halls and rooms with her images of Birds, chandeliers made of recycled materials, paper mache sculptures and some  of her framed Paintings.

Christina apologized often for her English, which I thought was pretty solid. Her views were clear. Her spirit was crazily vibrant.

Really cool person. Glad I got the chance to meet her.


Renaissance Sandwich Artist

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The thick stone railings of the Bridges in Firenze make for excellent prep benches. Here you can whip out a baguette, some proscuitto, tomato and fromage to make something tasty with a view to match. Sure people might looks at you funny as you start hacking into your crusty loaf with your pocketknife and start slicing tomatoes awkwardly in the palm of your hand in the middle of a bustling bridge.

They cant judge. They don’t know. The pleasures of a Renaissance Sandwich Artist putting on a show.

A delicious show.

But the real sandwich comes from a Pro. And its name?


You take the inner lining of a cows 4th stomach, braise it until its super tender. Get a crisp bun. Slice it in half. on the base half, carve up that stomach. That’s how tender it is. You carve it on bread. Then you season the shit out of it.

So then take the top half, tear a bit of dough out the middle and toss it to the Pigeons. Dip it in Passata then fill that dough hole with a Salsa Verde comprised of Basil, Parsley and garlic.



Took two bites and turned around and asked for another one.

Coat of Paint

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Firenze. Seems like a nice place.

I arrived at midnight after a 10 hour train ride from Cannes. Every hostel was closed. Slept rough. Didn’t get rolled. Florence seems like a nice city.

Forgot to pack socks. I’m afraid to take my shoes off. Its been three days.

The night before I left, I finished up my job. Four pints and ten shots in an hour. I woke up in a prayer position on the edge of my bed, with these shoes on my feet and so took them for a ride to Italy. Long train ride. Three transfers.

What were the shots? Some looked like medicine.  There were Jagerbombs and Skittlebombs and Tequilla and a lot of bright red medicinal looking things…

I don’t have any way to charge my camera. This poorly prepared traveler is a bad traveler.

There is a fly in my Peroni Birra. I’ll try drink around him.

Today I’m fairly disgusting, but Florence is a pretty neat place.