I was a boy scout with a mission when I woke up on my second day in Florence. I will go where few Filipinos have ventured before. I will go to a little obscure town named Montevarchi. All for the one thing we mortals cannot resist to do when we travel, which is to shop. Yes, I have set aside good money just to shop in a candy store called Space where Prada is sold at unbelievably low prices. But I was determined to find this place, with just a print out of a broad description of how to get there downloaded from the internet. I was ready, even before the breakfast in the hotel was. I was at the train station munching on McDonald's figuring out the train to ride to get to Montevarchi. Nothing on the information board spelled Montevarchi. It took a cranky old woman in the information booth to tell me to take the train to Foligno. So i bought my ticket and threw my future in the hands of the old woman and this train ride to Foligno. First stop, no Montevarchi. Second stop, no Montevarchi. Third stop, still no Montevarchi. I was getting anxious already thinking I might have taken the wrong train and getting scared of how the hell I was to go back to Florence, and worse I may never get to the outlet. But alas, the train stopped in the 4th station named Montevarchi. I couldn't contain my excitement. I was smiling from ear to ear at 7 in the morning. My piece of paper of a guidebook said to go to the front of the train station where taxis branded with Prada cards can be found. What can I say? That piece of paper with broad descriptions was dead on accurate. I was greeted by a comely cab driver who kept on shouting 'Prada, Prada' to me. Believe me, his annoying voice was music to my ears just because I kept hearing the magic brand name of Muccia Prada. I rode and off we went passing houses after houses that looked like each other. The road to wherever the outlet was was a long and straight one. Then the cab made a left and I instantly felt like I was in this industrial city outside Manila called Sta. Rosa Laguna. Montevarchi has turned into an industrial town right in front of my eyes as stacks of warehouses were right in front of me. But the comparison stopped there. Warehouses here were much cooler because they house designer goods. The cab driver then asked me if I wanted to contract him for the ride back, to which I declined and instead just got his number. Contracting a cab meant that the cab's waiting time would be included in your flag down rate. I wouldn't want my Prada money to partially go to cab fare, would I? And besides, I didn't have an idea as to how long I would be inside the outlet. I jumped out of the cab, entered the warehouse property and began to notice that there wasn't anybody there except me. With nothing to do, I read from my now very accurate piece of paper that you had to get a number to get in. You get in once your number was flashed in the ticket counter. Now, this was proof that I was indeed the first one there. My ticket number bore 001. One hour later, still the ticket counter wasn't flashing a number. Ok, maybe excitement got the better of me. But I was on a mission so I really didn't mind if I was first in line. If I had waited in line for hours to get inside the Vatican museum, could there be any better being first in the non existent waiting line to Prada? There was a coffee shop beside the outlet which had opened. I went in and had coffee to kill time. One by one, people started to arrive. And then it happened. The ticket counter flashed my number. And I excitedly went inside. First impression? A big OMG! Retail heaven at its outlet's finest. It gets better. Check the price tags and you have died, gone to heaven and back. I let all what I was feeling sink in and then I was down to business. I checked out a bag here, shoes there, wallet here, jeans there, shirts here, belts there. I was in my element. When I decided on what bags to get, I was carrying all of them until a retailer approached me, asked for my number and got all my bags for deposit at the check out counter. Talk about service and the temptation of just making you pick up things and buy. Though the items were many seasons past, it really didn't matter because a wise buyer like me would always default to the black items that are safe choices. So after 3 hours inside the outlet, I decided to check out. It was such a joy seeing all your merchandise being brought out in front of you. There's this feeling of unexplained accomplishment that only a good retail therapy experience can do. Still with a high, I exited the store, pulled out my phone and dialed the cab's number. Uh oh, my phone was not connecting. I tried again. And again. And again. Still no connection. I tried to go back inside the store but soon realized it was a futile effort because I had a train to catch at a particular time. So I decided to walk until the main road thinking that I might catch a cab. I reached the road. No cab. I walked a bit farther. Still no cab. I walked farther and farther. Still no cab. I just found myself walking and walking and just stopping for a few seconds just to check for a cab on either side of the road. But still no cab. Then I thought, this wasn't funny anymore. My high was gone as I lugged my loot walking for about 5 minutes. Which turned into 10 minutes and still no cab in sight. I stopped stopping and just kept on walking hoping that I would end up at the train station because time was slowly running out on me. I walked and I walked. My loot bags were becoming more of a nuisance now, whereas they were just a source of joy for me about 20 minutes ago. I had gone so far that I decided to ask an Italian woman where the train station was in my broken Italian. Sometimes, you do things randomly that they make sense to you only after you had use for them. Just like my reading this Italian phrase book I have the night before. I kept on reading 'dove, dove, dove'. And everytime I read it, it made me laugh because what sounds to be a kind of bird in English means 'where' in Italian. Now, lost in the middle of nowhere, I wasn't laughing at 'dove' anymore. It was the most useful word on earth at that moment. The Italian woman started talking to me in break neck speed that I didn't understand a word she was saying, aside from the fact she spoke in Italian. But if I did speak Italian, I wouldn't have understood it either. This woman talks so fast. I just kinda picked up a few phrases that stuck in my mind. So I walked again, just following the path of this long and straight main road, until I heard a woman shouting at me, 'senor, senor'. I stopped, looked back and she opened her mouth to ask me where the Prada outlet was. I don't even remember what I said but I didn't give her the direction because I was just getting pissed by the minute. I even thought to myself that if I got murdered in that town, no one in my country would know where I was because I absolutely had no identification with me, I realized too late. I had been walking for nearly 30 minutes under the hot spring sun when I suddenly remembered one of the words that Italian woman said to me. That word was the name of the grocery that was right beside the train station. I couldn't have thanked my lucky stars enough when I arrived at the train station right in time for me to catch my train. Tired and hungry, I slumped into my chair in the train. Then, my high instantly came back as I began to try on all the things that I bought from the Prada outlet. This was one rollercoaster adventure I surely will not forget. And it was all in the name of Muccia Prada.
