Today was our only full free day during this trip, and it was glorious to not have an insanely intense agenda for the first time in a week.
We still woke up early, but got to take our time with breakfast and getting ready before leaving the hotel. A big group of us went back out to the wonderful stores that sprawl out around the Florence Duomo. We 
avoided Prada and Gucci and Coach and so on like the plague… it’s for the better that way.
The clothes are definitely more expensive over here, but it’s obvious that you get what you pay for when considering the quality. Also, the styles found in American stores can’t even compete with what you can find over here, which is frustrating knowing that eventually we will have to return to those stores. I’ve been writing down the names of ones we went into because online shopping and I have no self control.
By the time we got back to the hotel we were all exhausted but finally had time to just sit and relax. It was Mother’s Day and I got to call my mom and talk to her for the first time in days (with the exception of Facebook messenger.) I was happy to hear my brother did something special for her while I’m away– still wish I could’ve been around for her too.
For dinner, per a recommendation from Matteo, he told us of a steak only offered in Florence and is allegedly famous throughout the country… because it weighs two pounds. We were sold instantly. Four out of six of us in the group split “the Florentine steak”– thank God.
“This steak better be as big as my head.” It was as big as our heads. “This better be the best steak of my 
life.” It was the best steak of our lives. “I feel like an animal.” Yeah, pretty much.
The only thing is we stumbled across the word “manzo” earlier and Google translated it to find that it means “beef” in Italian. So all night, we kept saying the word over and over “Manzo! To the manzo!” At one point we were switching out the word with Star Wars movie titles. “The Manzo Strikes Back,” “Revenge of the Manzo,” “The Manzo Awakens,” and the group favorite, a nod to the newest Star Wars film coming out, “Manz Solo.” Don’t ask.
Here’s where we pump the brakes. Manzo doesn’t exactly mean beef in Italian. I mean it does, but later that night when a bunch of us were at the Florence Irish Pub, my friend Emma said “To the manzo!” and oh my holy God, Matteo’s face just dropped.
He explained that thanks to some popsicle named “Calippo” shaped a certain way back in the 80s/90s, and due to a certain way people have to eat this popsicle using their hands, people would add “di manzo” to the end of it, effectively developing “manzo” into what is now known as a slang term. I think you all can put two and two together.
Yeah, we were saying that word all night in the restaurant and in the streets. I’m just going to leave this blog with that. What did we learn today boys and girls?