Day 2 in Florence (Jean’s Walking Guide A-the Uffizi Museo)
Our itinerary for the day set, I ventured out before Maura and Rebecca for a run up Giotto’s bell tower next to the Duomo. It was a trial run for next day’s climb to the lantern that rests atop the Dome of the Duomo (463 steps high); the bell tower being 50 steps less.
The tourists had not awakened yet so the few of us walked right in and started to climb. I decided to make this a morning exercise, and took two steps at a time, only to wear myself out half-way up.
Once on top of the tower you have a grand view of the roof-tops of Florence, more beautiful than Cherburg and a really close up view of Brunelleschi’s dome. I focus next on a young woman on the opposite corner of the tower, bent over with her butt in the air, and her nose at the white marble stone. Bond beam (that’s a swimming pool term) or at the railing, with a Scripto pen, she begins to tag “Kilro, I’m here.” In what language could I or should I yell, “NO!” ? She then takes her camera and photos her “artwork.” I decided to abhor this foolishness and forgive the fool.
Picking-up Maura and Rebecca, We are off to the Uffizi
But first, we stopped for our morning cappucino at Rivoire Cafe in the Piazza Signoria (Jean’s recommendation because the view is better) for a little people watching, and to kill some time till the tourists lines dissipate from the mueso’s line. Know that when you order uno caffe and you hold up your index finger, you get duo caffes. The Italian’s finger count, begins with the thumb; thumbs up in Italian means “one of everything,” not “its okay!”
Jean’s guide laid out the floor plan of the museum, numbering each room with the art and the artist. We chose 10 and 14 for Botticelli; room 16 and 15 for da Vince, 25-28 for Raphael, and room 46 for Toilettes; we called it, “Racing the Uffizi.” I picked Botticelli for his fascination with the female form; I have to agree with him that the “S” curve is more attractive than the straight line (see = man). In his painting, “Allegory of Spring” you see the outline of the women’s bodies underneath their clothes a better fantasy than the full, plastic image of an airbrushed centerfold. Da Vinci’s “Annunciation” showed Mary facing the Angel, pointing to her pregnancy, pushing her hand palm up, as if to say, “Why me Lord?” Once can understand this reticence, since being pregnant without a husband meant, stoning to the death. I have always believed that Joseph’s act of faith was as great as Mary’s: “It’s a virgin birth, Joe.” We ended with Raphael, whose death ended the Renaissance in Florence. Now, up to the top of the Uffizi for a view of the Ponte Vecchio Bridge over the Arno; a break for water and Snicker’s Bar, and a free toilet.
It is now evening, of The Second Day. And we are off for a truly, authentic, Florentinian Meal. If you arrive before 8:30-9pm, no reservation is necessary. No Italian starts to eat before this time. We have agreed to split: the antipasta, the primo, and the secondro, which will be bistecca alla fiorentina, a 3-5 cm thick T-Bone steak. The menu outside Pallottino (thank Jean), reads 38 E for 1 kilo of bistecca. The closest I came to understand a kilo, was smoking pot and listening to the Jefferson Airplanes, in Golden Gate Park, in the 60’s. So we ask the owner for “how much steak for tres?” He said, “800 grams.” We still didn’t understand how much steak we were going to get. In the end it was just right.
Next to us sat a Chinese couple; the man spoke broken English, and Maura got to speak English now without using sign language. I really have not understood the Asian affinity to photograph everything. As their meal arrive, his bistecca and her pollo, they bowed to the food as if in prayer, and then the woman took out her camera and photographed their meal. We ended ours with less than a prayer, never mind a camera shot, with tiramisu.
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
Mom's Blog from Day 1 forward
Our Beginnings
Kindness Simply
Deplaning after nine hours in flight from Chicago, we climbed off down a flight of stairs like burros heaped with luggage.
Holding to the railing and carrying the duffle bag I must have a) been slowing the line following, or b) looked as terrible as I felt, when an absolutely gorgeous young man asked (without words) if he could take my bag…
Later, in Bologna, we left luggage in the trunk and made our way by bus to the Piazza Neptune. Again, we were met with kindness from a bus driver and her passenger who encouraged us (again almost no English) to use the Euro machine and made sure we got off at the correct stop.
Our second day, the merchants in the market place were generous and kind to us with samples of meat and cheese.
Kindness is spilling over me without the need for words or even response.
Montepulciano
Bella- hills and churches and simple kindness: the “take my arm” gesture by “older” woman on steps of St. Augustino. Then, later, being asked by Americans if I knew the Church’s name. Who me? Are you talking to me? But of course: “Saint Augustino.” How kind of you to ask—in E
nglish.
Florence
One week after our arrival by plane we took the local train to Florence; like the train from Crystal Lake to Chicago, it lasted 1 ½ hours and gave us a great look at the countryside, small towns, and a great listen to Italian as spoken in the early am.
The Hotel Maxim in Florence reminded me of something I’d seen in a movie: one minute I’m standing on a crowded shop-filled street and the next I’m entering a “hidden” door –(golden)- to the upper chambers. The lobby -3rd floor- was very comfortably old world and the attendant spoke English beautifully. Our room--#23—was about as big as our kitchen at home with a miniscule bathroom whose shower easily washed across the floor. The door was a fold-out and mildly noisy in the night. Once again this spoiled American showed herself so.
The city of Florence is echoing in my bones: from the Sinsinawa Dominicans of 50-plus years ago. The nuns long-ago shared slides about the Duomo, David, and Dante, so well they are not easily forgotten.
The opera Tosca was beautifully presented. The opera house was gorgeous and the patrons definitely well mannered, genteel and not too elegantly dressed. The players were great and the words in Italian above the stage were unintelligible, as were all around us. Almost all of us stayed awake and enjoyed the performance.
Becca had been artfully preparing zucchini, potatoes, eggplant, pasta, chicken, sausage, cheese, etc., for us all week, and so to celebrate the passing of the Bar, we treated ourselves to an Italian dinner out (an antipasta, a primo, a secondo, etc…) before leaving Florence. Roger did the planning from his guide books,( Jean specifically), and we found our way on foot from our hotel. We shared steak Florentine, bruschetta with mushrooms, salade Caprese, wine, and skipped the world famous gelato next door in exchange for tirmusi. We were seated next to a couple from Taiwan who told us they “try everything different” when they’re away from home. They also told me the difference between Chinese and Taiwanese which I had learned from Sister Gilbert at Rosary nearly 50 years ago. Matt had emailed the question, “how’s the food?” now, we have one really excellent recommendation for him a short walk away in Florence, Trattoria Pallottino.
Washateria
Coming back from Florence, we decided it was time to find a washateria (not to be confused with a Euro Spin which turned out to be a grocery store). After many unsuccessful attempts at locating one, Becca told Roger the English speaking Information Office (for tourists) would tell him where to go. Loaded with words like “levalage auto” (car wash), he asked, “How will I know what the answer is?” Becca drily said, “Daaaaaadddddd, these info people speak English.” Aha, within minutes he leapt out of the car only to find a closed dry cleaner. But since the universe rides with Becca, there –on the map Roger was given by the information people- was an ad for the exact “Lava Piu” we were searching for most of the morning. Becca had guessed earlier that it would be near the campgrounds but I queried, “What makes you think that campers care about clean underwear?” Her years of camping with Michael must have taught her something, because she was correct.
What an adventure laundry day was! Place was empty-no people; multiple machines; change machines; soap was included in machine cycle; and lots of directions in English! Best of all, we had 43 minutes for lunch! Becca had spied a spot off the road trafficked by truckers, called Bruno’s Tavern.
We’re not sure if Bruno is the chef-owner-maitre’d-but his place is excellent and full of satisfied suits and trucker shirts. The meats were grilled on an indoor roasting grill so the smoky aroma filled the place. (Note bene: Roger remembers that Bruno was responsible for the final product, seasoning, etc, off the grill and it was excellante.)
Home
The Lago castle. Our castle, farm, spa, stay is huge. The very size and comfort offered was found by Rebecca online. The view of the countryside is beauteous and Lago del Trasimeno spreads before us as we drive away from the castle. The use of the spa includes: both indoor and outdoor pool, sauna, steam room, wellness services, and exercise equipment. Both Roger and Rebecca have been the best of friends accompanying me and helping me in and out of the pool, no railing (scuzi!)
Assisi
Short walks and many, many steps characterized our visit to Assisi. Becca had been there previously so she had planned the parking, times for Mass, etc.
Kindness Simply
Deplaning after nine hours in flight from Chicago, we climbed off down a flight of stairs like burros heaped with luggage.
Holding to the railing and carrying the duffle bag I must have a) been slowing the line following, or b) looked as terrible as I felt, when an absolutely gorgeous young man asked (without words) if he could take my bag…
Later, in Bologna, we left luggage in the trunk and made our way by bus to the Piazza Neptune. Again, we were met with kindness from a bus driver and her passenger who encouraged us (again almost no English) to use the Euro machine and made sure we got off at the correct stop.
Our second day, the merchants in the market place were generous and kind to us with samples of meat and cheese.
Kindness is spilling over me without the need for words or even response.
Montepulciano
Bella- hills and churches and simple kindness: the “take my arm” gesture by “older” woman on steps of St. Augustino. Then, later, being asked by Americans if I knew the Church’s name. Who me? Are you talking to me? But of course: “Saint Augustino.” How kind of you to ask—in E
nglish.Florence
One week after our arrival by plane we took the local train to Florence; like the train from Crystal Lake to Chicago, it lasted 1 ½ hours and gave us a great look at the countryside, small towns, and a great listen to Italian as spoken in the early am.
The Hotel Maxim in Florence reminded me of something I’d seen in a movie: one minute I’m standing on a crowded shop-filled street and the next I’m entering a “hidden” door –(golden)- to the upper chambers. The lobby -3rd floor- was very comfortably old world and the attendant spoke English beautifully. Our room--#23—was about as big as our kitchen at home with a miniscule bathroom whose shower easily washed across the floor. The door was a fold-out and mildly noisy in the night. Once again this spoiled American showed herself so.
The city of Florence is echoing in my bones: from the Sinsinawa Dominicans of 50-plus years ago. The nuns long-ago shared slides about the Duomo, David, and Dante, so well they are not easily forgotten.
The opera Tosca was beautifully presented. The opera house was gorgeous and the patrons definitely well mannered, genteel and not too elegantly dressed. The players were great and the words in Italian above the stage were unintelligible, as were all around us. Almost all of us stayed awake and enjoyed the performance.
Becca had been artfully preparing zucchini, potatoes, eggplant, pasta, chicken, sausage, cheese, etc., for us all week, and so to celebrate the passing of the Bar, we treated ourselves to an Italian dinner out (an antipasta, a primo, a secondo, etc…) before leaving Florence. Roger did the planning from his guide books,( Jean specifically), and we found our way on foot from our hotel. We shared steak Florentine, bruschetta with mushrooms, salade Caprese, wine, and skipped the world famous gelato next door in exchange for tirmusi. We were seated next to a couple from Taiwan who told us they “try everything different” when they’re away from home. They also told me the difference between Chinese and Taiwanese which I had learned from Sister Gilbert at Rosary nearly 50 years ago. Matt had emailed the question, “how’s the food?” now, we have one really excellent recommendation for him a short walk away in Florence, Trattoria Pallottino.
Washateria
Coming back from Florence, we decided it was time to find a washateria (not to be confused with a Euro Spin which turned out to be a grocery store). After many unsuccessful attempts at locating one, Becca told Roger the English speaking Information Office (for tourists) would tell him where to go. Loaded with words like “levalage auto” (car wash), he asked, “How will I know what the answer is?” Becca drily said, “Daaaaaadddddd, these info people speak English.” Aha, within minutes he leapt out of the car only to find a closed dry cleaner. But since the universe rides with Becca, there –on the map Roger was given by the information people- was an ad for the exact “Lava Piu” we were searching for most of the morning. Becca had guessed earlier that it would be near the campgrounds but I queried, “What makes you think that campers care about clean underwear?” Her years of camping with Michael must have taught her something, because she was correct.
What an adventure laundry day was! Place was empty-no people; multiple machines; change machines; soap was included in machine cycle; and lots of directions in English! Best of all, we had 43 minutes for lunch! Becca had spied a spot off the road trafficked by truckers, called Bruno’s Tavern.
We’re not sure if Bruno is the chef-owner-maitre’d-but his place is excellent and full of satisfied suits and trucker shirts. The meats were grilled on an indoor roasting grill so the smoky aroma filled the place. (Note bene: Roger remembers that Bruno was responsible for the final product, seasoning, etc, off the grill and it was excellante.)
Home
The Lago castle. Our castle, farm, spa, stay is huge. The very size and comfort offered was found by Rebecca online. The view of the countryside is beauteous and Lago del Trasimeno spreads before us as we drive away from the castle. The use of the spa includes: both indoor and outdoor pool, sauna, steam room, wellness services, and exercise equipment. Both Roger and Rebecca have been the best of friends accompanying me and helping me in and out of the pool, no railing (scuzi!)
Assisi
Short walks and many, many steps characterized our visit to Assisi. Becca had been there previously so she had planned the parking, times for Mass, etc.
Sunday, October 19, 2008
Ingresso Libero
Okay for those of you who took Latin either voluntarily or against your will, you probably guessed it off the bat and are feeling mighty superior. For those of us with a public education and high school French taught by a teacher from
Either with the universe as my translator –or dumb luck—I recognized it right away to mean FREE ENTRY! (or literal translation Admission Free!) Since everything in Italy costs something (every hill town’s Etruscan Museo costs at least 6 E or $9 and the Uffizi cost $30!) my eyes are drawn to this purse friendly phrase.
It’s not that I’m cheap; my mother will be the first to tell you I have
I’ve discovered in my travels and life that sometimes the best things in life ARE free. Brunello wine at $50 a bottle is not one of these things, but the Cortona Alvarez Guitar Quartet tonight was.
It was by fluke that my parents and I ended up at this lovely concert in Teatro Luca Signorelli (the theater my first apartment looked out over.) Dad and I were at the grocery store when I spied the poster on the way out.
“Dad what day is today?” (a common problem when on vacation for over a month.)
“The 17th.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, then after church in
“Really?”
Four men of varying ages, playing classical guitar with modern twists-it was wonderful and a small crowd of locals, also varying in ages, gathered to delight in this Sunday evening treat.
Sometimes the best things in life are free and never planned for.
P.S. In the lobby of the theater, I tried my first Campari and soda with orange slice—not a huge fan but I’d give it another try to make sure.
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