Florence, Italy, May 1984. This morning's Uffizi post reminded me of my visit to Florence. I didn't find the city charming. There were more tourists than in Venice. The historical sites stood in a tight area that made the city center seem like an amusement park. The place was claustrophobic. I also had some trouble understanding the Florentine dialect, which softens the "c" sounds: "Casa" becomes "hasa," for example.
Florence is the city in which I encountered my first "ugly American." As I sat sipping a macchiato, a woman exclaimed to her husband, "Why can't these Italians make a decent cup of coffee?!"
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