Italian drivers

No photos to accompany this post. I was too busy holding on.

We left Venice bright and early this morning via motorcoach headed to Florence. This was quite a cultural experience in Italian driving, to say the least.

It was bad enough being cramped up on this "bus," which wasn't designed to accomodate someone of my height. Fortunately, we did make one stop at the "Autogrill," which is the equivalent of a truck stop or convenience store in the U.S.

The fare was pretty interesting. I found some motorcycle magazines that I kinda wanted to purchase to read on the ride, except my Italian is not so good. No candy bars, although I did find a section of chocolates. No coffee machine, either; it was made by baristas while you waited. I settled for a Red Bull and moved on.

Leaving Venice, traffic was pretty packed. The driver got several "Italian saltues;" I joked that everybody was waving at us, so we should wave back!

Finally arriving in Florence, traffic was pretty much the same, except more scooters and motorcycles were thrown into the mix. The cyclists filter lanes, or split lanes as it is called stateside. They drive in the space between lanes (basically on the lines on the road), cutting into and through traffic with seemingly little thought. Amazing and frightening at the same time.

We arrived early at our hotel, so we dropped off our bags and headed for lunch, which was our next lesson in Italian driving. While walking to lunch, Jim, who directs the international program at UCA, advised us to watch out for drivers. "They don't stop," he warned.

He was not kidding.

Even at crosswalks, with the light signaling you had the right of way, you still had to bolt. It's made me think long and hard about jogging in the morning, although with the amount of pizza I've had, I probably should.