Backpacking in style

I skipped out of Venice late and made my way to Florence.

The train arrived in the dark and I found the last bus out to the Youth Hostel I was intending to stay at.  They knew I was coming so that was all good.

The bus weaved it's way through the Florence streets and I peered out into the dark trying to spot the sign indicating my stop.  Slowly the numbers on the bus dwindled and when I was alone, except for the driver, he asked me where I was wanting to get to.  I told him my destination and he chuckled and turned the bus about -apparently my night vision is about as good as my Italian - I'd missed my stop two or three back.

I apologized profusely to the driver as I must have been making him late for his knock off from work but he wasn't accepting any apology from me, he was happy to help out and of course I couldn't thank him enough.

The hostel was a old villa that had been converted to this purpose.  Naturally I didn't see much of it when I arrived but the next morning the beauty of the place was clear to be seen.

Being winter the gardens were still a cool grey but I could imagine them in spring or summer when the trees were in full bloom and the fruit ripe for the picking.