Fabulous Florence

Florence from Fort Belvedere

Wednesday, August 4, 2004 - Rome to Florence

As we are checking out of our hotel, we are interrupted by an American woman who asks the owner, who's checking us out, if there are any churches nearby where she can go to mass.  The poor fellow is totally confused by her question.  No one has ever asked him if there are any churches nearby.  This is Rome.

We decide to go to Termini Station with plenty of time to spare as Tom must have his Eurail pass validated.  It being Wednesday, we figure we will have no problems.  Wrong!  The lines at the ticket windows are very long.  After trying to find an alternative to standing in line, such as an information booth like they have in other European countries, we discover there is only one place you can get your pass validated and that is at the ticket window.  We are aware the ticket can be validated on the train but there is some unspecified charge to do so.  The line moves slowly.  The clock moves swiftly.  With about 15 minutes to spare, Tom gets to a window where the agent is surprised that all he wants is a validation.  We never do figure out what the alternatives might be.  Fortunately it's a one time issue.

We are forced to kick a surly, German-Thai cross-cultural couple out of our seats.  They obviously have no reservations but they just move across the aisle to a couple empty seats there.  Not that they need to sit near one another as they never say a word to each other during the entire ride to Florence.  Tom notices their lack of communication and mentions it to me.  I tell him I don't find this kind of behavior abnormal in Western-Asian marriages.  I think part of the problem is lack of a common language and part of it is lack of a common cultural background.  There are exceptions, of course, and there are plenty of common-culture spouses who don't talk to each other.  Nevertheless, this phenomenon is a good reason for people to think deeply before they marry someone from another culture, no matter how strong the attraction is at first.

We have reservations but I'm not so sure we need them in First Class.  They aren't so expensive so maybe it's better to play it safe but I notice that every train I take during the entire seven weeks has empty seats in First Class.  I think if I was traveling alone, I'd forego the reservations except on holidays.  With a partner, it's nice to know you'll have seats together, assuming you are talking to one another.

Rape of the Sabines, Loggia dei Lanzi

On the train, we meet a couple from Las Vegas, in the facing seats.  She works for a private school in Las Vegas.  We never discover exactly what he does for a living.  Since Tom teaches in a reform school, they are both fascinated by his stories, as am I, so the time passes swiftly.  We also compare travel stories as do most tourists from the same country meeting in a foreign land.  I think it's partially bragging and partially information sharing.  The tales usually involve some kind of situation that requires the teller to come up with an innovative solution.

We arrive in Florence at the Santa Maria Novella train station and head in the general direction of our hotel, the Sempione, which is "only a few minutes from the station."  This "few minutes" takes about a quarter of an hour.  I always thought "few" meant three or four.  I must now adjust my thinking when booking hotels.  The hotel is in a so-so neighborhood but the clerk is very helpful, making reservations at the museums for us, and the rooms are clean and airy.  We grab a quick lunch at a near-by restaurant and I hit the internet while waiting for our room to be made ready. 

After a necessary nap we head out for a restaurant Pam and I discovered in December, Bacchus.  It is about an hour's walk - a real sixty minute "hour."  It takes us much longer, though, because Tom becomes totally enraptured with everything he sees.  I must agree that walking through Florence is like walking back in time.  We pass the Duomo and the Piazza Della Signoria, which is fronted by both the Pallazo Vecchio and the Uffizi Gallery.  It is close to dusk so the Piazza is relatively uncrowded.  We make a quick stop to see the sculptures in the Loggia dei Lanzi and the copy of Michelangelo's David which stands where the original did for hundreds of years.   It is not hard, at this time in the evening, to realize that the piazza has changed very little since the Renaissance.  We move on to the Ponte Vecchio, Florence's most famous bridge, and then walk along the Arno River at sunset to the restaurant. 

I am shocked to find the restaurant staff remembers me from December.  Of course, they are disappointed that I show up with Tom rather than Pam.  She has that effect on people.  We order the house wine which is the best wine bargain in Florence at €7.00 a bottle, as well as an appetizer.  For dinner we get a "Tuscany T-bone," a kilo plus piece of beefsteak grilled over an open wood fire accompanied by two kinds of pasta and another bottle of wine.  We stagger out of the restaurant sated beyond the bounds of good sense and decide to walk back to our hotel hoping that we will have digested enough of our dinner by the time we arrive to be able to go to sleep.

On the way we meet a group of four young female teachers from the Lyon area of France, who are lost and trying to find their way to the train station.  Since this is my "second" trip to Florence, I am able to help them.  Since only one of them speaks much English and Tom and I could most likely come up with maybe ten words in French if our lives were on the line, the conversation is limited but spirited.  

I decide I must have a gelato "to settle my stomach."  Lying to myself about how much food I need comes very easily in Italy.  The gelato works and I fall asleep quickly.  Tomorrow is a daunting day.  We plan to do Academia, the Uffizi and the Pitti Palace.

Tom on the Piazza della Signoria

Thursday, August 5, 2004 - Florence   

Tom and I decide that the breakfast at the Sempione, is barely edible and later discover it cannot compare with the coffee and pastries at the coffee bar next door.

Our first full day in Florence is fully booked.  You can find Florence photos on my photo page.  We have an early reservation at Accademia.  What the reservation allows us to do is stand in the "reservation" line which is not clearly marked and can only be identified by asking people already in the line.  Why someone would not make a reservation is beyond my understanding.  The procedure is for the "reservation" people to be admitted about 15 minutes after their scheduled time and if there is room, then people from the "non-reservation" line are admitted.  It keep the crowds from overwhelming the venue.

Michelangelo's David

I have never seen a statue that impresses me as much as Michelangelo's "David" does.  When I visited in December, experts were restoring the statue and the scaffolding was intrusive.  Today there is no scaffolding and I sit for 20 minutes or more just looking at "David."  How did Michelangelo create such a masterpiece at such a young age, especially one that so broke with the past?

The rest of the museum, with the possible exception of Michelangelo's unfinished "Prisoners" and a couple Botticellis, is rather pedestrian. An inordinate amount of space is given up to copies of ancient works of art done by students over the years.  I also discover that finding the men's room is even more problematic and I have a near disaster - poor planning on my part given my eating habits while in Italy. 

We leave "David" reluctantly and head for the Museum of San Marco, previously a Dominican monastery and the home of both the sublime Fra Angelico and the rabble rousing Savonarola.  This museum, which is relatively uncrowded, has a room of incredible illuminated bibles, dozens of Fra Angelico's paintings on the walls of the monks' cells, and a collection of Savanarola's artifacts in the rooms he lived in.   I'm surprised and thankful that it isn't more popular with tourists.

Uffizi Gallery Courtyard

After last night's pig-out, Tom and I decide to skip lunch so we can grab a quick rest at the hotel before heading for the Uffizi Gallery.  While waiting for our reservation time, we meet a couple from Chicago. They are using the plane tickets and hotel reservations of his brother who couldn't make the trip at the last minute.  We only later appreciate the irony that this couple, who freely admit they are only visiting the Uffizi so they don't have to explain to their friends why they missed it, are here by accident when Tom and I and many of the other visitors have waited years to be able to visit this incredible museum.  Tom runs into them later and the man's only comment is that the place is poorly lit and dirty; a comment that serves to break both of us up as we view 45 rooms of Renaissance art to say nothing of the additional rooms full of the paintings of Rubens, Van Dyke, Titian, Giotto, Caraveggio, etc. and the hallways studded with statuary covering centuries of Italian history.  I'm reminded of the 60's San Francisco disk jockey who spent a week in France and ate only at McDonald's because he didn't like French food.

I go into data overload after about 90 minutes but spend another hour seeing things Pam and I missed when we were here in December.  Tom and I stagger out into the rain and decide that the Palazzo Pitti will have to wait for another day.  We find a small café and tank up on foccaccio and beer while waiting for the rain to ease.  The rain never eases and we finally decide to make a run for it but manage to get lost and arrive at our hotel completely soaked and exhausted.

After the mandatory nap and changing into dry clothes we, on the advice of the desk clerk, go to a nearby trattoria, supposedly very popular with tourists.  After entering the place, we decide to try to find another restaurant.  The place is overcrowded, under-serviced and over-priced.  Other than that, it looked great.  Instead we wander into Trattoria Alliense.  It's owned by an Italian Canadian.  The food is superb.  The wine is good.  The service is personal and efficient.  The ambiance is warm and welcoming.  We decide later that it was, most likely, the best restaurant we visited while in Italy. 

While we are there, we help a couple of young Japanese women figure out what they might like off the menu, argue with a Danish woman whose husky voice reminds me why I stopped smoking, discuss the failings of Northern Florida with a woman from Orlando who has already been befriended by the Dane and defend our Florida position with a family from Jacksonville, Florida who are very aggressive in singing the praises of their city.  It appears the owner, whose name I have unfortunately forgotten, seats foreigners in the front room and locals in the back room which works out well for all.  As we depart and are making our good-byes, he thanks Tom and me for the free entertainment.

We reluctantly return to our hotel but not before eating a stomach settling gelato.  It's been a great day.

Michelangelo's Tomb, Santa Croce

Friday, August 6, 2004 - Florence

As I get up three or four times during the night, it occurs to me that I might not be eating right.  My solution: ignore my stomach and enjoy the Italian food.

I skip the hotel breakfast and go next door to the coffee bar - great coffee, great pastries.  Tom doesn't show and I start to worry.  He hasn't slept past 6:00 A.M. since we met in Rome.  He commutes over 100 miles each way to his job so he usually rises at 4:30 A.M., evidently a hard habit to break.  He eventually shows and announces that he inadvertently slept in.  As we leave, I am undercharged by the cashier and go through a lot of self vs. self arguments about whether to say something or not.  I finally decide to go back and tell the owner.  He misunderstands and thinks I'm complaining about being over-charged.  I try to explain and at some point, he tells me to forget about it.  I decide further explanations are useless.  Is this Karmic justice or what?

Tom has mentioned that he loves sculpture so I suggest he visit the Bargello Museum, which Pam and I had been at in December.  I decide to try the Palazzo Vecchio, which Pam and I missed in December.  We get lost but find our way eventually after walking an extra mile or so.  God knows we can use the exercise.

The Palazzo Vecchio is unimpressive from the outside but very impressive on the inside.  Its contents are more interesting from an historical point of view rather than from an artistic one.  As I wander around, I realize that even the wealthy Medici's lived in circumstances that today's average American middle class family would totally reject.   I visit just about every room and have to rush to meet Tom at our pre-arranged spot.  We have a late morning beer and a snack before moving on to Santa Croce Church.   

Visiting this church for the second time does not detract from the wonder of its attractions.  First, who's buried there - it's a list of the Renaissance who's who, Michelangelo, Galileo, Machiavelli, etc.  The art is magnificent.  The courtyards are well kept.  The attached museum is fascinating.  One could easily spend four or five hours here and still not take in everything.  I start to get compulsive about seeing it all when I begin to feel light-headed.  It's time for lunch.

Since we plan to visit the Palazzo Pitti, we walk across the Arno and stroll along the south side of the river.  We stop to rest in a little park in front of the first and only Lutheran Church in Florence.  It is there, sitting in the shade, that we decide to skip the Palazzo Pitti and concentrate on enjoying our late lunch.  It's now about 2:30 P.M. or so.  We choose the Golden View Open Bar even though it's recommended in a number of tourist guides.  It turns out to be a great place for a relaxing lunch with views of the Ponte Vecchio and the Arno River.  We are the only guests in the dining room so we stretch out, order foccaccio and a number of beers and discuss the nature of existence, which appears to be the ability to enjoy foccaccio and a number of beers.

After lunch we head back to our hotel, ostensibly to read and relax.  Hah!  Actually, I take a long nap and awaken after dark, ready to enjoy the evening.  We decide to find an outdoor café on the Piazza della Republica and watch the free and never-ending entertainment.  We snag a ringside table.  Bands are playing, one on each side of the piazza, each trying to outdo the other.  Jugglers are juggling.  Flame eaters are eating.  Acrobats are acrobatting.  It's a hell of a scene.  We drink wine mixed with a little bit of mineral water to lessen the wine's effect and continue our discussion of the nature of existence which now appears to be the ability to drink wine and enjoy the passing parade on the piazza.

Piazza della Republica at Night

Three hours later, Tom realizes he must return immediately to the hotel while I'm not exactly ready, having napped much longer than he did.  He goes to grab a taxi but soon returns because he can't remember the name of our hotel.  I give him the name but I can't remember the address.  Tom leaves anyway and I wish him luck and return to the job of finishing up our last bottle of wine.  I am unequal to the task so I pay the bill, cork the bottle and head for the hotel.  I manage to find my way back but cannot raise Tom on the phone.  I finally go to his room and knock on the door to find he had been in the shower.  It evidently took him and the taxi driver a while to find the hotel and as soon as he got to the room he jumped in the shower and stayed there until he felt better.  Such is the nature of existence.

I tell him a few embarrassing stories from my own past and finally go back to my room to finish the bottle of wine we had started and find out how quickly I can fall asleep - turns out to be quicker than I can drink.  The wine is still there in the morning.

Donatello's Mary Magdalene

Saturday, August 7, 2004 - Florence

I am now habituated to the coffee bar experience.  This morning, Tom and I sit there sipping our cappuccinos, nibbling on our pastries and just drinking in both the passing scene and the activity in the bar itself.  Wonderful!  To make it even more charming, the owner undercharges me again.  I've learned my lesson.  I say nothing.

We start with the Opera del Duomo Museum.  This is one of the most delightful, entertaining and educational museums in Florence and it's seldom overcrowded except for the occasional tour group and even then, you can leave the area and come back later when the group has moved on.  It has the restored panels of Ghiberti's Baptistry door; the door on the Baptistry itself is a copy.  There is much sculpture to see including Donatello's carved wooden statue of the suffering Mary Magdalene, a statue people either love or hate.  I love it.

The museum also contains the finger of John the Baptist and if you believe that I have a number of fingers of historical figures I'd like to offer for sale.  In addition, there are numerous exhibits devoted to the tools and equipment used to build the Duomo Dome including some of the original block and tackle pieces along with architectural drawings and other historically fascinating artifacts.

After exhausting ourselves in the museum, we decide to take an early lunch.  For that we head to the Mercato Central which is fascinating in itself with its deli's, butcher shops, vegetable shops, olive oil shops, wine shops, etc.  We grab a seat at one of the food stalls in the building and the owner remembers me or pretends to remember me from my visit in December.  What does it matter?  I am charmed by his friendliness and Tom and I celebrate the situation by eating and drinking more than we should.

Santa Maria Novella Church

After lunch we visit Santa Maria Novella church.  It is not nearly as interesting as Santa Croce and has rules about wearing shorts, even for men.  It also has lots of places visitors are supposed to stay out of.  We meet an angry German guy with a church supplied shawl around his waist to cover up his legs.  Frankly, he looked a lot more fey and irreligious in the "skirt" than he would have without it.  I get busted for taking pictures, even though our guidebook says it's permissible.  The attendant is incensed that I would even try to take photos and stares at me the rest of the time I'm in the place.  We don't stay long. 

We note that there is such a different atmosphere from Santa Croce where picture taking is encouraged.  Since Santa Croce is a Franciscan church and Santa Maria Novella is a Dominican church, I immediately generalize as to the probable differences between the orders - Dominicans intellectual and forbidding, Franciscans emotional and accessible like their founder, St Francis of Assisi.  I recall the many years of my childhood under the tutelage of Dominican nuns and decide I have the right to generalize about them.

In addition to my usual nap, I spend part of the afternoon in Internet frustration since I can't seem to access my e-mails.  I keep getting a "timed out" message before the Netvigator site has a chance to load.  I try to change the settings but am locked out and the clerk is no help.  I finally figure out how to import all my Netvigator mail into Yahoo Mail and am not only able to read my messages; I get to feel like a technological genius.

At dusk, Tom and I begin our search for a suitable happy hour site.  We settle on the Trattoria San Lorenzo, a very friendly place.  Our Romanian waiter is a jokester and we meet a family from Washington D.C. and another wandering soul from the same area.  After a number of beers and a long discussion of music and art, we decide to go back to Thursday's restaurant the Trattoria Alliense for dinner.  Perhaps because of the beers, we get lost trying to find it and after a buzz busting half hour walk, end up less than two blocks from where we started.  As a last resort, being males, we ask for directions and manage to find our way to our destination.    

We are not disappointed with either the food or the company.   There is a cross-cultural family from Oregon.  He's French Basque, she's American - kind of a stereotypical do-gooder but much more open-minded.  They met in Togo doing good works and have two beautiful daughters.  We also meet an architectural student from Washington University in St. Louis returning from a field trip to Barcelona.  The conversation is scintillating (I think) especially since I own property in Oregon and recently spent a week in Barcelona. 

We get our buzz back drinking the excellent house Chianti and almost wait too long to order.  Tom has a single huge pork chop which he announces is the best pork chop he's ever eaten.  This from a mid-western meat and potatoes guy who, if he's like me, at one time, thought fish swam around with breading on them.  I have a scrumptious grilled veal steak, a dish almost never found outside of France and Italy.  Both meats are accompanied by home-made tagliatelle pasta with a sauce directly imported from heaven.  We both agree we will miss Florence and not just because of its cultural attractions.

A gelato on the way back to the hotel completes the evening on a high note.  I fall easily asleep looking forward to tomorrow when we will be traveling to Venice.