live from Amsterdam...

Friday morning. I decide I want to walk leisurely to the bus stop with Helen and Lindsay rather than run to the train station to meet Juan and Jack. "See you at the airport, man."No. No such thing. Our bus gets delayed somewhere between half an hour to an hour. (There was a lane closed on the highway. Apparently Italians don't know how to merge. This makes sense because they don't know how to form lines either. They just crowd.) The girls and I miss our check-in by five minutes. We have rebook our flight. We're stuck. But we're still in Italy, and we're stuck in Pisa. We buy a pizza - pizza at Pisa! - and go sit on the grass around The Leaning Tower. We ordered Napoli Pizza to be adventurous, but it's anchovies and capers. It's surprisingly good. We get gelato while heading back to the airport. We fly away.

Friday night we arrive at the airport in Belgium. We walk around Brussels for a while because we have a few hours until our train to Amsterdam. We grab dinner at a Mediterranean place. The staff is really nice. They keep the place open late for us. They point us toward a nearby bar when we ask for the check. We don't make it to the bar. We see a sketchy looking door that says Africa Music Club. We can't help but investigate. It's a bar. Our waitress is beautiful, but we think she'll be creeped out if we take a picture of her. We drink several bottles of Jupiter. Alliteration. Belgian beer brewed and bottled in Belgium. We play gin rummy. Eventually one of the black guys convinces us to dance despite being tired. He says something about not knowing whether we'll be alive tomorrow, so we should live tonight as much as possible. It sounds like my favorite James Dean motto. And he says it in French. So we all dance. The playlist is awesome. It's everything with a good beat and a good melody: American hip-hop, Latin music, reggae, and even some African music. Some of the people there are crazy good at dancing. One hilarious guy walks up to me and starts copying movements. It's like watching a mirror. Then he has me try some of his. Eventually like four guys crowd around Helen. They're not pushy like Italians or bump-and-grind like Americans, but she gets tired of it and we head to the station at four in the morning. We bump into the same security guard who told us when our train was a few hours ago. He thinks we've been lost in the station all night. He's really nice and helpful. All the Belgians are awesome. They have a great sense of design, fashion, and are friendly. They also all speak at least four languages. It's a great country. I'm going back. We get on a train at six.

We pass out on the train for three hours and wake up in Amsterdam around nine on Saturday morning. Juan and Jack are waiting for us at the train platform. They haven't slept. We didn't have a place to stay for that night anyway. Outside the station, Helen's friend Nikita meets up with us. She's also from Zimbabwe. It's her birthday. We all start walking. I blaze a trail to the first coffeehouse I see. Coffee and cake. Breakfast of champions. We walk around Amsterdam. It's amazing. Somewhere between Venice and New Orleans. There are canals, but they aren't annoying like Venice. It's easy to get around. There are bike paths everywhere. There's lots of Green like New Orleans' Garden District and small roads like in the quarter. It actually looks a lot like the quarter except without as many bars but just as many neon signs. Indonesian food is to to here as Indian food is to London. There are also lots of Argentine restaurants, inexplicably. We go to Vondelpark and walk the path. We buy hot dogs (with crazy toppings like sauerkraut, curry ketchup, onions, fried something, and sriracha hot sauce). They're good. We almost fall asleep. We get up and go to The Van Gogh Museum. It's amazing. Juan decides to sleep outside instead. Jack, Lindsay, and I join him. They fall asleep. I'm still hungry. I find a stand that sells Belgian waffles, chocolate, and soft-serve vanilla ice cream. I have them top a waffle with melted chocolate and ice cream for me. It's amazing. I wake Jack up. He loves it. He goes to sleep again. I get hungry again, for real food this time, and go get a "big boy burger."" In my stupor I call it a Monster Burger. The lady laughs, and she makes it monstrous by putting extra cheese and extra bacon on it. We regroup outside the museum. We finally go to our hotel and pass out.

When we wake up, we've overslept the alarms we set for dinner. All of us. Light is shining through the curtains. It's 8:15. Jack doesn't believe that it's still Saturday night: "Fuck you. It's morning. Where's Prima?" Eventually he's convinced and we all go to dinner at an Indian restaurant. We all eat too much, but we're in Amsterdam, and it's Kit's birthday, and we're well-rested and well-fed so we go to a coffeehouse after. It's named Ben, so I miss Ben. Cake and coffee. Breakfast Dessert of champions. We walk around The Red Light District. We enter a few sex stores. I'm jaded to both, but some of the others look like they're in awe. We go to another coffeehouse. After sitting in there for ten minutes, we realize it's a gay coffeehouse. But we don't care. They're all having fun. And so are we. When we leave from that, we decided to put Helen to bed since she's got an early flight. We go back to the hotel, hug and double-kiss her goodbye, and pass out.

It's Sunday now. Sunday morning. (A lie, Sunday morning just ended because it's past noon.) I wake up, and soon after Nikita comes to say goodbye. I hug her goodbye in my underwear and lie down again. Jack says bye. She doesn't bother waking up Juan, but I think she said goodbye to Lindsay. She leaves. I can't fall asleep again. I get dressed and go downstairs. The computers in the lounge are taken. I buy a bottle of Aquarius (like Gatorade, but the official sports drink of The Olympics). I go upstairs and take a vitamin. Still can't sleep. I come back downstairs. The computers are still taken. A girl is sitting nearby on the couches. We make friends. Her name is Joan or Joann or Joanna. She's from Seattle. She offers me some of her muffin. I happily accept - because I did sleep late enough to miss breakfast - and we drink tea from her thermos. She tells me to friend her on facebook when I get online, but I forget her last name and am not even sure of her first one. The idiots who have been talking loudly about Facebook Applications and Myspace and typing with only two fingers finally get off the computer. (I am glad they are not American because everyone has been glaring at them.) I get online. I am online. I am in Amsterdam. I am in Amsterdam. I AM STERDAM.

Easter weekend

Friday night was the official “Goodbye, Prima” dinner at Trattoria Zaza. Surely one of the best meals I’ve had here. But yeah, Prima’s going back to Mexico to make it in time for her sister April’s quinsiniera. Spring is finally here in Florence, pero Primaverais gone.

After dinner, I went out for a while with Marissa and some visiting British friends she’s made.

Saturday morning Ross called and woke me up because we’d planned to go to the market to get healthy trip snacks. Helen, Prima, John, and Jack all went too. I got a bag of raw cashews, but I doubt they’re going to make it even out of Italy at the rate I’m eating them.

Then Jack and I went to the Nazionale apartment to walk the girls to the train station, see them off, and say “hasta luego” to Prima.

I spent the afternoon doing some spring cleaning. I think L’Auberge Italienne is the cleanest it’s been since we got here. My night was chill. I packed and then went to the Nazionale girls’ apartment to spend the night there – without them sadly – so my walk this morning to the train station would be shorter.

Happy Easter. London is calling. I’m off.

new best week ever?

I’m really sorry that these weeks are flying by and I’m behind on updates.

Saturday ended in a nice and relaxed way. Giuseppe prepared veal cutlets and pesto pasta for dinner. I convinced him to go out with the girls and me since he was sitting on the couch with a book open on his lap staring into space. Do not confuse that with actual studying for midterms. He said he would “only have one drink.” Famous last words. We played Kings with the girls and Liane’s visiting friend before heading out to a few bars. Fun and chill night.

Palm Sunday was fantastic and even more relaxed. I got up early, went to mass, and then went back to bed. When I got up again, Henk and I went to lunch at a self-service restaurant both cheap and delicious. We walked around the city for a while and met up with Juan on the bridge north of Ponte Vecchio to drink some yerba mate. Using Henk’s tripod and Juan’s camera, I self-timed the picture of the three of us in the previous post. After that, we went to the Irish-pub-owned-by-Japanese-people to catch the second half of the Fiorentina/Genoa game and get some pre-St.-Paddy’s-Day beer. Henk and I stopped by Grom on the way home for some gelato. I went upstairs to borrow a book from The Girls Next Floor that ‘Seppe and I had befriended the other night, and they invited me to go to dinner with them and meet some of their friends. Dinner at Rubaconte. Gelateria Dei Neri after. I read half of Next by Michael Crichton, which I borrowed from the aforementioned girls upstairs.

Monday one of my teachers took us to the restaurant in the five star hotel by our house. Sadly it wasn’t an eating visit, just a viewing. He recently resigned as their executive chef. It’s a beautiful hotel. Rooms range from 700 to 3000 Euro a night. And they boast the biggest hotel suite in all of Europe. (I can’t remember the metric measurements.)

After that we took our midterm for food styling, and I handed in my portfolio for graphic design. I went to aperitivo with Sergio, my one Italian friend, Liane, her friend Robyn, and Giuseppe. We went bar hopping for St. Patrick’s Day but never actually made it to an Irish pub. Is it ridiculous that my drunkest Italian night was for an Irish holiday? Well, just goes to show that what an Irish bartender said when my friends and I pub-crawled in Ireland a few years ago: “Once you’re drunk in Ireland, you’re honorary Irish for life. Salinte!”

Tuesday was my day off. I spent it running errands. “You know what would make dinner better? Wine.” So my friends and I went to aperitivo. After that, we watched L’Auberge Espagnole. I had bought a copy since I told so many people about it. It was a fun experiment because the film is mostly in French, but the only subtitles were Italian. “You know what would make the film better? Wine.” So we bought a few bottles on the walk back to my apartment. After the movie, we wanted to go out but nothing too crazy. We decided to go sit on the bridge. “You know what would make the bridge better? Wine.” [I’m really not kidding about people saying these things all night.] Unfortunately we couldn’t find any wine en route to the bridge, so we just brought beer instead.
Marissa, Helen, Henrique, Juan, and I also formed a new clique. We realized while sitting on the bridge that we have quite the international mix. We’re the new Planeteers. Juan is North America/wind, Henrique is South America/fire, Marissa is Europe/heart, Helen is Africa/earth, and yours truly is Asia/water. Yeah, we’re cool.

Wednesday I had my Food Writing and Italian midterms. They were both pretty straightforward and, I thought, easy. That night, Marissa and Helen brought me to an aperitivo across the river at a bar where they hate Americans. “Speak only Spanish or Italian tonight. They will serve us faster.” I don’t mind that they hate Americans because certain college students aren’t good ambassadors. Plus I love being in bar with mostly Italians. It feels more genuine.

We were still hungry when aperitivo ended, so a bunch of us – Yes, a lot of our friends showed up. – got panini and pizze from Pan Pergo a stone’s throw away. Then we decided to go to Jack and Juan’s house to figure out the rest of the night. Marissa, Prima, Ross, and I decided to sing the entire walk, probably to the annoyance of the rest of the group. Here’s a copy of our quartet’s set list:

• In the Jungle
• Hakuna Matata
• Love Today
• New York, New York
• It’s All Coming Back To Me Now
• Total Eclipse of the Heart

Quite eclectic.

We ended up spending most of the night at Jack and Juan’s. Marissa and I reenacted our favorite Disaronno commercial. And then the game of touch cup started. And that was the beginning of the end. We ran out of wine and then probably out of rum. By then, everyone seemed appropriately “pinted” (Helen’s Zimbabwean slang). In the course of all this, we took over fifty photos, which I’ll upload eventually. A few of us left and went to a few bars, but that didn’t last very long.

Thursday AKA yesterday I had my Food & Society midterm. All the essay questions could be answered in one sentence, if not one word. We made arancini (fried rice balls, as in balls made of rice and then deep-fried, not balls made of fried rice). We shot a few more recipes and then turned in our portfolios for Food Photography. Check my facebook “what’d ya eat?” album if you want to see those glossy pictures. I had a chill night: Napping, getting online at a bar, catching up with David, hitting the sack again.

Today is Good Friday, and I've been running the errands I’ve put off all week. Laundry, cleaning, travel arrangements for spring break, etc.

Is it still a Lenten sacrifice if you love what you’re eating? For lunch I made a tuna salad out of yellowtail/yellowfin (AKA hamachi), cannelini bean, red onion, olive oil, balsamic vinegar, salt, and freshly ground black and cayenne peppers. An original Andrew creation: “Insalate di tonno all’ Andrea.”

Tonight is a little going-away dinner for Prima, and then who knows what will happen the rest of the weekend. I leave for London and more importantly Chad on (Easter) Sunday, so I can’t promise another update anytime soon. I’ll try though. Buona Pascua!

Florence still rules, thanks.

Tuesday I noticed in pictures that my hair was getting shaggy, so I stopped by the haircutting place on my street. I told them to “leave it as long as possible but clean it up” since I didn’t want it short until spring on the 20th. But they cut it all off.

That’s cool. I can deal. Plus my friends’ reactions are varied but generally positive. And entertaining. “You look good/younger/Asian/Italian.”

When I got home, Giuseppe immediately brought up dinner. His idea, like always, was Chinese food from the place down the street. Works for me.

Later that night, after power naps and some iTuning, we went to our favorite “cultural assocation” to meet up with Juan and Henk to play some pool and be there for Marissa’s debut as Iceland’s Next Top Bartender. Naturally, Helen and Prima were there too. Joe and Liz showed up for a bit. As did Jack. Prima seems keen on adding another “roommates team” to our league, but her apartment doesn’t have enough players. Our apartment’s foosball record against Jack and Juan is now 4:3.


Cesare was playing acoustic guitar that night. What a great artist. His repertoire of covers is eclectic, but everything sounded great. He had most of us singing and/or dancing along.

Wednesday I slept in until grabbing lunch with Henk at Nerbone, a trattoria in the Mercato Centrale. Salsicce e fagiolo. (Sausage and beans, a classic pairing.) Delicious.

Food writing was devoted to the process of laying out pages in a cookbook. We had a guest lecturer, a photography and graphic design professor. The president/founder of the school stopped by for another impromptu visit for an update on our semester project.

Italian was distracting. The soundtrack for the day was ‘70s and ‘80s disco hip-hop. Oh, and the lesson plan was occupations and three and four digit numbers.

Lisa and I invited her friend Caroline and my roommates to join us in our dinner at Pizzaiuolo where she and I finally got something we’d been discussing for the past month: DEEP-FRIED CALZONES.

My roommates and I went from there to the “cultural association” to meet up with the same crowd from the night before, sans Liz and Joe. The cologne Henk bought in Paris last weekend pretty much elicited the reaction Axe commercials pretend Axe has. The girls flocked to him like moths to a flame. Prima was on him all night. For serious.

Thursday our cooking class got the best recipe so far. It’s famous worldwide but originates from the region known as Emiglia Romana. LASAGNE. I cannot describe how good it was. We made everything from scratch using fresh, authentic ingredients. And it was just a basic lasagne too. Freshly made pasta, Padana Grana cheese, Bechamel sauce, and a beef, pork, and porcini mushroom ragu.

The teacher from next door stopped in. (I thought to yell at us for being loud in our excitement, but that wasn’t the reason.) She proposed a joint session next week. So our “Food & Society” class and her “Wine Exploration” class are pretty much going to merge into the best class EVER next week. Eating, drinking, socializing, and exploring. What’s not to love?

Food photography. Our on-location assignments around the city were cancelled due to inclement weather, so we spent the afternoon cropping and selecting pictures for our portfolios. It was nice to not have to walk around in the cold, but it wasn’t nice to not have the option to eat/drink all afternoon. I snapped this on the way home:

That night, Jack and my friends’ dreams were realized. We, the two culinary students, made dinner together. Dinner for twelve. And it gets better. Our friend Eddie volunteered his expertise, pantry, and knife set to help us out. So the group got three culinary students working for the price of two. Or rather for the price of free since Jack and I bought all the food that Eddie didn’t bring in his goodie bag. When I got to Jack’s apartment (after a month of supposed-to-go-ness), we planned the menu and then went to his neighborhood supermarket to get everything. Oh, and their apartment is amazing. If it had a single bedroom option, I would totally try to live there next semester.

Cooking dinner was quite fun and entertaining. While Jack and I went food shopping, Eddie started whipping egg whites and preparing antipasti and contorni.

By night’s end, Jack came to the conclusion that, had we a professional kitchen and professional equipment, we could open a restaurant. Eddie seriously had to MacGyver a lot of kitchen stuff. He burned a broken tray (like a car radiator) so we could bake in it. Turned a garlic bag into a makeshift cheesecloth. Et cetera. We almost had to find a wire hanger and turn that into a whisk. Luckily by the time the girls got there, we had cleaned the place up.


Although we lacked tools, there was no lack of friendly help. Juan, Giuseppe, and Anton were all ready and willing to beat, chop, and slice-and-dice (respectively) anything we asked them. And we had Daft Punk blasting on the iPod, which I think is excellent cooking music.

We started cooking around 8:00, served dinner around 10, and finished around 1. It was a true Italian style meal: Late, relaxed, and with lots of wine.

Our final menu was:

• Tortilla chips and guacamole
• Minestrone
• Pan-fried garlic crostini
• Artichoke and rosemary risotto
• Pepper/lemon/basil-marinated beef rolled with prosciutto
• Tiramisu

Juan had brought some Yerba Mate from Argentina, which is an excellent tea about as strong as coffee. So that was a nice way to wash everything down.

I thought I was just impressed that we made everything and nothing went wrong. (Especially since we made minestrone and tiramisu in less than half the time you’re supposed to.) But according to all our eaters, everything went really, really well. And now we’re painted into a corner we’ll probably have to do several repeat performances.

And yeah, it was a really fun night. Easily the best night I’ve had in Florence even though we didn’t go out. Good food. Good drinks. Good music. Good company. Good times.

Henk and I stopped into our neighborhood Latin bar for a little dancing and caipirinhas before bedtime. Those were nice night caps.

Friday Yesterday morning at noon Henk and I got up and went to the “eat-all-you-can” Japanese restaurant for lunch. Mmm. After an afternoon of digesting and my mandatory weekly Lost episode, we went to aperitivo at another bar. Which will probably become my favorite aperitivo bar. The place is nice, the food spicy (probably to encourage drinking, but it doesn’t phase me), the liquor quality, the drinks strong and well-mixed, and the bartenders amazing. By amazing, I mean they have the kind of flair you see on The Food Network or Travel Channel.

We went to the cultural association to play foosball and pool. Marissa was working again. Liz and Anna met up with us, and we introduced them to the friends we’d made at pool, Paule and Adam. A few rounds later, the l’auberge Italienne crowd (Liz, Anna, Henk, and I) went off to a Russian bar for gyros and beer both good and cheap.

Saturday This morning I went to the hospital for my appointment with the orthopedic doctor re: my knee. It’s been a month since the injury. There is no damage to the ACL, but there may be minor damage to one edge of the meniscus. We decided the best course of action would be to get an MRI (and any resulting arthroscopic surgery) back in the states. The surgery isn’t urgent and wouldn’t require a recovery period of longer than two weeks. But two weeks of not walking and then a week on crutches would do some serious damage to my semester, academic and extracurricular.

But hey, all that aside, I have a clean bill of health! Party on.

Liz, Liane, Anna, Henk, and I went to a late lunch at I Ghibellini before they went off to the Uffizi. I decided to go to the bar and post all this. And then I’m going to rest up because tonight most of the gang is returning from Rome and we’re all supposed to go out on the town.

And now we’re caught up back to the present. But surely not for long.

too much randomness

Yesterday was laidback until about dinnertime. I forgot to mention this phone call I made to Prima on Thursday night.

“Hello.”
“Mi princesa, it’s Andrew!
“Hey!!! What’s up?”
“Not much, Jack and I are just hanging out and figured we’d call to see how you were doing since we haven’t seen you in a while.”
“Who?”
“Jack and I.”
“Who you with???”
“Jack.”
“Who’s Jack?!”
"Jack!"
"Jack???"
“Um, Mr. Blondie?”
“MR. BLONDIE!!! TELL HIM I SAY HI!”

So this led to a plan for last night night which evolved from dinner-out to drinks-at-a-bar to aperitivo to ultimately pizza-and-poker-at-Prima’s. Jack, whose real name Prima apparently doesn’t know and whose hair isn’t even blonde, and I went over there with Liz and one of her friends. Prima, Helen, and Juan were there waiting for us and Marissa eventually got home from her job interview with the owner of Loch Ness.

The pizza wasn’t amazing but the sriracha Jack carries in his backpack(?) helped it along. It was the only delivery number we had available. Good thing we had booze.

Apparently Liz and I cannot be friends in terms of pop culture. She hated Brokeback Mountain but loved Troy? AND she hates Billy Joel but loves Hilary Duff??? Since my mind was warped by this and I wasn't interested in the discussion of Troy (i.e. Brad Pitt's ass and pits), I went upstairs to the terrace to watch the others play poker and eventually subbed in for Prima. I had brought cards but not chips, so we used beans for currency. [Insert offensive Mexican joke here.]

Eventually Marissa, Helen, Jack, Juan, and I went to Angie’s Pub to get more drinks. Aneet and Jess met up with us there. Prima stayed home, and Liz went home to do crunches while listening to the Lizzie McGuire soundtrack because she’s lame. (I love Liz. Really. I tease because I love.)

You know in Peter Pan how you need a happy thought to fly? Apparently Marissa was badly in need of one last night, so after striking out twice I was able to offer a successful one: Brazilian booty. As in, the kind we’ll see tonight when we go to Maracana. Apparently Marissa is also a fan of those firm, healthy cheeks and “just wants to bite them.” I’m not making any of this up, by the way. I’m not that creative.

Eventually I walked Aneet and Jess to get gelato so Aneet could satisfy that third of her gelato-diet coke-Nutella food pyramid. (“Oh my God, you guys. I went up a whole size from a double zero to a ZERO!”) And then I went with them to Twice to do a little dancing. Aneet batted her eyes at the bouncers who let us in through the smoking lounge door rather than make us wait thirty minutes in line to get through the front door.

I left a little earlier than them and on my way home ran into the others at Salamanca, but we didn’t stay long at all and went home. Helen called me “smug boy” since I live six seconds away and was smirking as they planned their routes home.

week closed out nicely

Food writing was lecture and discussion about various forms of food media as well as some new assignments for us to cover. We also got to meet the president and founder of the school because she was the original teacher of our course and our semester project is of particular interest to her. More on that in the future. She was nice and laidback though.

So Italian class was all about the Pink Floyd and as far as Italian, demonstrative adjectives and articles of both the definite and indefinite nature. When I got home, Henk suggested we give the Chinese carryout place down the block a a try. (Giuseppe had approved, noting it was "just a little salty.") So he and I went and got some dinner. I got roast duck and a chicken curry fried rice. Both were surprisingly good... unlike the last time I had Chinese food in Italy circa 2000.

Then I got a call from Aneet, so we went to go meet up with her and the other girls at Moyo. She and Alison left for a Yung Joc concert and due to a misunderstanding, some people wound up at another bar or calling it a night. Liane, Henk, and I went into Loch Ness to do a few quick shots. By the way, Liane forgot her membership card and any other form of ID. But the bouncer from the other night remembered her and accordingly us. "You guys were here last night, with the other girl, THE RUSSIAN." (Anna, if it's not obvious.) Eventually we wound up back at Moyo with Mindy, Jess, The "Russian," and Jack. I got a 7&7 and found Mindy a "bitch drink"(her phrase not mine) that tasted like the blended fruit ingredients rather than vodka. Lots of drinking. Lots of dancing.

semi-candid? "'cause I'm Mr. Brightside..."

Thursday was good too. In my cooking class, we had a substitute teacher. She prefers having one half the class work on the entrees and the other half work on the desserts. Our usual teacher just has everyone prepare one of each course. I was in the half of the room assigned desserts, so I lucked out. (I saw the pasta recipe, and I could've done it in my sleep.) We made zuccotto, a semi-frozen dessert, and decided to melt some leftover chocolate to cover it with. We did have lots of fun with all the chocolate and brandy at our disposal.

zuccotto, a Florentine dessert. it's brandy-dipped sponge cake wrapped around a rich filling made of whipped cream, chocolate, confectioner's sugar, and ricotta.

My photography class was less eventful. Since I missed last week's class, I didn't have as many photos to load, but I did get a few good ones in to contribute. We had another brief meeting with the president/founder. Deja vu.

When I was walking home, I got a call from Liz about having dinner at Prima's. I had completely forgotten I was supposed to hang out with her this week since she moved, but lucky for me my school is like two blocks from her new place. So I spent the afternoon with her drinking beer on her rooftop terrace, which has a great view of Florence. She also finally realized I went to college in New Orleans, and apparently its her family's favorite vacation spot in the states. In fact they call it their "home" in the states. That was awesome.

She and her new roommate Marissa, who is half-Mexican half-Icelandic, had made chilequiles for dinner, complete with the homemade tortilla, cheese, cream, and of course peppers. I personally loved the heat. Some thought it was too spicy. Their other roommate Helen sliced and fried some potato wedges with rosemary and sundried tomatoes. And Liz contributed a dessert I can't remember the name of it but they're Italian and little dough balls rolled in honey. Oh, and of course we all had nice helpings of authentic guacamole, chips, and beer right before dinner.

Angie's pub with Marissa, relatively early in the night

There were a good number of people at dinner, but that night only Prima, Marissa, Joe, his sister's boyfriend Anthony, and I ended up going out. And what a going out it was. We went to Angie's Pub and closed that down. So we went to Loch Ness and closed that down. And when we closed Twice down after four in the morning, we decided to go home. Great times. Probably the best night in Florence so far.