Hotel Cimabue Florence
In 1980, when I was a young traveler with little money, I stayed at hostels. When I arrived in Florence, the hostel had no vacancy. So I ended up sleeping on the lawn in front of the train station. This was pleasant, as I was surrounded by other young travelers who dotted the landscape like cocoons that night. Pleasant, that is, until 5:30 AM when a police officer thumped his baton on my sleeping bag.