As requested, here is a recap of my New Year's Eve in Florence:
On Saturday night, after bundling up for the night out, I caught a train to the Center with my friend and her mom and sister (with whom I was staying during this particular part of the break). The train ride from the part of Florence in which we were staying to the center of Florence was a short one, only about 7 minutes long, but in that period of time I almost witnessed my first fight on a train. There were a bunch of younger men, maybe 10 to 15 of them, who were all really worked up about something and were somewhere between talking loudly and yelling. We sat down in the same car as them, but farther away. During the ride, the man I was sitting next to started yelling over at them and getting involved in their argument. At one point, some of the men came over and, back and forth above my head, continued their altercation with me in the middle. We finally moved over to the next car, and I thought the rest of our night would be smoother once we got out of the train.
I could not have been more wrong. As soon as I stepped off the train, I wanted to turn around and get right back on. My history classes from the past came alive as I felt like I was literally in the middle of a war zone there in the Center. Between the huge fireworks being set off by civilians on every side and the mine field of broken glass, waving sparklers, and (unusually) plastered Italians, even my industrial ear plugs were futile when pitted against the explosions that literally shook the ground. At this point, it was only 9:15pm.
After navigating our way through the masses of people (holding hands at all times so as not to be separated indefinitely), we sought refuge in a cafe that was still open. That lasted for about 45 minutes, and then we decided to venture outside once again. While wandering through the streets, we rushed past each piazza as we learned that they were the most dangerous. Fireworks that I'm sure are illegal in the U.S. were like children's toys in the hands of Italians. They were setting of large, legitimate fireworks no more than 10 yards away from where we and others were walking, and then running away as the explosives detonated. I was afraid for my life more than once. When we weren't busy navigating around the piazzas, we were dodging people who walked through the streets waving sparklers right in front of our faces and smashing bottles where we were about to walk. Some way or another, we managed to get to Palazzo Vecchio, where the booming seemed a bit softer, and the background noise was mostly due to a classical concert which was being performed by an orchestra. We stood there for a few minutes, relieved, and then looked around only to realize that we were seeking refuge in the senior hang out spot. Literally, I could not see anyone who looked under the age of 60 except, of course, ourselves. But hey, it was safe, so that's where we stayed until the end of the night.
I must say, with all the theatrics of the evening, you would think the firework show at midnight would be out of this world; however, I can say without a doubt that America is, hands down, far superior to Italy (and probably all of Europe) in this regard. After hours of anticipating, midnight arrived with no more than a wimpy, single file line of simple fireworks that could best be personified as patient and polite...after an individual firework went up, the next one waited for a few moments to slowly go up into the sky and do the same, one after another, with the only variety being in color. I actually laughed out loud when I saw the display.
Finally, when it was all over, we began our search for a taxi to take us home, which was a whole ordeal in and of itself. Somehow we found one, got back, and went to bed around 2am. It was quite a night, and I am glad to still have my hearing and my life :)
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