We boarded a bus and looked around at a sea of confused faces. None of us really understood why we had been rounded up and forced on this bus. Were we mistakenly on a tour bus? Were we being rounded up for a visit to the local penitentiary? Instructions gruntingly given in Italian were all we had to go by.
If you came to read a blog about Florence, prepare to be disappointed. Florence is a beautiful city, but the fun was in the travel.
That isn't where the story starts, but it is a beginning. As with each day of our cruise, our preparation for a day of exploring begins the night before. The cruise line provides a pamphlet for next port, providing details about the port, transportation, things to see, etc. The first thing I noticed was the port to visit Florence was now Carrara and not Livorno, which it had been when I purchased the cruise. The trip to Florence would now require an hour and forty five minutes of travel instead of the originally planned hour. Less time in a city we were excited to see was a bummer.
Being stalwart adventurers we forged ahead, not willing to give up our plans for the Jewel of the Renaissance, though it would be slightly abbreviated. The pamphlet indicated a walk into the city would give many opportunities for buses for exploring or the train to Florence. The next morning, arising with a bit more energy as our legs and feet had now become a bit more adjusted to the 20k step days, we set off for another days adventure.
Upon departing the boat we were immediately lined up and asked by local port helper "Tour?" When we answered no we were pointed to another bus. Not knowing what was going on we followed others and boarded the bus. Most of us looked confused. No one was walking out of the terminal. All were boarding buses. Several people tried asking the bus driver and port helpers what was going on and where we were going. None of them spoke English. None of us spoke Italian. Now we were starting to get nervous, but were covering that with laughter because we were all on the same boat (not ashamed).
After filling, the bus departed, and we left the gate of the terminal. Proceeding to drive one mile north the bus went in a gate to another area of the terminal. What?! That seems useless. We all departed and milled around outside the bus. There was only one worker there and she also didn't speak English or understand our queries as to where we needed to go. Some wandered into the terminal, some towards the gate, and after a minute, we followed some more down an alleyway (Isn't that how the best horror stories start?)
Luckily we picked the correct direction and ended up at an information kiosk (being a pop up) with locals who spoke English. Yay us! From them we bought bus tickets, found out where the bus to the train station left from and which number. Unluckily for those who wandered off other directions, they found out that the bus ticket kiosk was broken, and the local buses didn't take money to buy tickets. They ended up missing the first train to Florence, which for most meant no Florence. For us, the train was boarded and our destination reached.
Surely this must be the end of the story, right? Not at all. We got to the train, wandered around Florence, and caught the last train back to Carrara, along with a large group of cruise members. When we arrived back in Carrara we had about 45 minutes to get back to the boat, which should be plenty of time. Remember that large group of cruisers on the train? Yeah, now they were all waiting at the single bus station outside the station, waiting for a single bus that comes about once every 15 minutes. People were tired, some were trying to be controlling to others, and overall there was about 3 bus loads of people waiting on a single bus.
Despite one of our party members dying from all the walking we decided as a group to start the two mile trek to the terminal along the main road. If a bus came by that had room we would hop on it, otherwise, we should still make it by departure time. Several others decided to do so as well. So we walked, and walked, making it halfway before finally getting a bus for the last mile. Here we were, just outside the terminal, the ship in all its large glory before us, and a mob storming towards us from the gate.
In bewilderment they waved their hands in the air, pitchforks held high, torches blazing as they shouted "Down with the French!". Ok, maybe not so dramatically it was more like pointing down the street behind us saying we would not be let in the terminal gate. The gate guards would only point down the street to the North and say go that way. Always up for a protest, we joined the mob, stomping and grumbling, North it was. The smaller mob, marching back our direction gave us pause. I thought, we can take them, as they pointed our way saying others told them to come this way.
Confused, we once again began the group dance to decide which way the herd should proceed. It was decided North was still the best choice. Let's find where the busses dropped us off to begin with and see if there is anything there. Luckily this turned out the be the right choice. Not for our feet, poor Rebecca, though a trooper, was seriously considering feet transplant at this point. A mile later we found a bus, made it back to the ship, right at departure time with our laughing mob, and headed to the bar for a celebratory drink.
It ended up being 40 minutes after departure time before we finally left the port of Carrara. So many guests were lost and confused it took that long to get them all back aboard. Carrara is a working town, known for the beautiful marble it quarries from the mountains around the area, but as a cruise port, it leaves quite a bit to be desired.
Now, about Florence. The Jewel of the Renaissance. Known for wondrous works of art and historic buildings. What can I really say that can't be said in pictures?
Wandering Around
Piazza del Duomo
We saw so many fun things. Got to climb the bell tower, tour the cathedral, wander the streets, eat great pasta and tire ourselves with joy. Another great stop on our Mediterranean tour.
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