So after a picture perfect Spring Break road trip, I am in Paris now, and have closed the Italy chapter of this adventure (time is flying crazy fast isn’t it!) When I look back at the type of posts I did in Florence I recognize that they were very different from the type of posts I did in China, less funny anecdotes about life in another country, more fashion and beauty items. But that’s because (understandably) Italy was much more of a familiar environment, less discovery, and so less stories of the “mouse in the grocery store kitchen” ilk that I had in Shanghai.

However, that’s not to say I didn’t notice some things I found funny while I was in Italy, that I decided to share. In no specific order:

1. When you’re in a fast fashion store in Florence, and your transaction is declined, the salesperson will tactfully yell, “NO MONEY!! NO MONEY!!” at the top of his voice to alert you…and everyone else in the store at the same time. I wish I could say this was a story that happened to someone else.

2. In preparation for the club, Italian men will watch several installments of the Step Up film series in order to prepare for their awkward break dancing and pop-locking, dance-off routines later that night. Or so it seems. I first observed this at an R&B and Hip-Hop night (entitled “Smooove”) and was concerned that this is how Italians thought black people really behaved in the club. But then I went back to the same club on a non-themed night and breathed a sigh of relief cause that’s just what they do.

3. Speaking of Italian men in clubs….the ratio of men to women at bars and clubs in Italy is like 70/30. Seriously. What’s “stones party” in Italian?? I can kind of understand now why club promoters the world over let a dude in only if he’s accompanied by 7 women, because that ratio feels weird unless its a gay club. And don’t get excited about the prospect of being surrounded by large amounts of Italian men, ladies. I have seen more hot men in my week in Paris so far than I saw in all of Italy for three months, soooo, yeah. Don’t believe everything you read. However, if your type is the pop-lockin’, breakin’ and battlin’ kind….welcome to Nirvana.

4. It takes a week and a half to do your hair. Starting from the DIY relaxer at home; to the trip to Rome to get it cut by a snip-happy, Edward Scissorshands, self-styled hair “genius”; to the rewash, rewrap, restyle; to the mark at the African barber (Eddie thought that leaving my edges unfinished looked more “feminine”)….it takes a week and a half to get done what I could get done in mere hours (okay, 8 to 10 hours if I’m begin honest) in Trinidad.

Anyway, my time in Paris already promises to be kixier as my area is a bit more … colourful (on the day I arrived, a person was breaking up with his/her partner by pelting all his/her belongings out the window of his/her second floor apartment. Not just clothes. I heard shit crashing and breaking). Also, I have to take the Metro.

In the meantime, enjoy some pics from my last days in Florence, and look forward to the stories!

In the Piazza San Spirito