Last evening nine of us walked through rain-washed streets for a couple of blocks to have dinner at Ristorante Accademia, highly recommended by others in our group. We arrived a few minutes before 7:00, which, as it turned out, was their opening time. They seated us anyway, and we knew we were going to like this place!
After a delicious meal of melanzane di timballo, eggplant cooked in a way I'll never be able to duplicate, and of course several carafes of wine, we topped off the meal with shots of limoncello that our waiter brought - on the house. We had a blast! In fact, we had such a blast that we attracted the attention of other diners who turned out to be staying at our hotel, and they greeted some of the group at breakfast this morning with a big cheer.
After breakfast, we attempted the hop-on/hop-off bus again. Remembering our stormy experience on Thursday, we tied our rain jackets around our waists, took a deep breath, and once again found seats on the top of the bus. What a glorious day! Using the earbuds supplied by the bus company, we listened to a wonderful narration of everything we were passing and enjoyed the beautiful Baroque music playing in the intervals between the snippets of information. We wound through the city and climbed the hill to Fiesole. The flat meadow in which Michelangelo created many of his beautiful works was perfect - the view of the city below, with the Duomo, the Campanile, the Arno, the Ponte Vecchio. What artist could have picked a better spot?
After returning to the city, we made our way to the Chapel of the Medici. We were most curious about the tombs of Florence's founding family, and also were curious about the many religious relics displayed there. What a magnificent chapel! The domed ceiling is a marvel of painting. The tombs are quite grand. The room where the most important tombs are located was never quite finished, and the niches intended to be occupied by statutes of the dead remain empty. Bill pointed out that all of the ornamentation is marble work. How on earth an artist/craftsman could depict shafts of wheat using only marble, right down to the tiniest spicule, is hard to understand. This is art that takes a lifetime to create, and sometimes the lifetime of more than one artist. It's difficult to imagine anyone having the patience and dedication to do that in modern times.
After returning to our hotel for a brief rest, we ventured out again, headed for the Duomo. Finally, time to go inside! The long line moved quickly and we were inside the vast church. Bill had noted that perhaps the exterior of the church is more impressive than the interior, but we were quite taken with it. It is a soaring, cool space, with plain arches and only a few (beautiful) stained glass windows. There are sculptures and paintings, both sacred and secular, lining the walls. We heard a voice: "Silenzio. Shhhhhh. Silenzio, per favore. Silence. Shhhhh. Silence, please." Oops. We had indeed been talking, although very quietly. In about ten minutes, we heard it again. We realized that it is a recording, and began to listen to the crowd. Even though everyone seemed to be reverent and quiet, there were many people there, and a thousand whispers make quite a racket. Just as the sound began to be noticeable, the recording would play again and everyone would fall silent. Then the voices gradually rose until the next playing of the recording. I found this to be a fascinating, and pretty courteous, way to control noise. I'm thinking it might work well in many situations!
After the Duomo, we were off to Santa Croce. As we approached the piazza, we found every street blocked. This is the beginning of the summer games, calcio storico, which are football/rugby/boxing/ kicking/gouging matches played with teams from different neighborhoods. We had been warned that the actual matches are quite bloody, with players suffering bloody noses, breaking limbs, and sometimes even losing eyes! We really don't want to see a match (assuming we could get a ticket, which is almost impossible), but we are interested in the processions that precede them. The supporters from different neighborhoods come out in groups and march through the streets, apparently becoming more and more rowdy as they near the makeshift stadium set up in the Piazza di Santa Croce. So instead of visiting the museum, we circled around, stopping for gelato and to peer into the mercato nuovo, before we encountered a portion of the procession. What fun!
Back to our hotel, hot, tired and very thirsty - but dry! We heard some rumbles of thunder, but no rain. Hooray!
Saturday, June 14, 2014
Friday, June 13, 2014
Evening of our first full day, and another day - and more rain!
We dined last evening with six of our fellow pilgrims, al fresco, in a lovely little restaurant that we had spotted earlier in the day. We ordered carafes of the house wine (a Chianti, I believe) which was definitely drinkable. Mike and I shared a simple bruschetta with tomatoes, then split a pizza with prosciutto, artichokes and black olives. Our companions had lasagna, spaghetti with clams, eggplant parmesan.There was a little breeze, the rain was gone, the food was divine, the company was excellent. Italian restaurants are friendly places, never any pressure to hurry and leave. Our waiter was Lupo, the wolf. Even though tips are included in the bill everywhere, we couldn't resist pitching in an extra euro for him.
Later, after we had returned to the hotel and had had a few minutes of toes-up, Mike and I ventured out into the evening. We wanted very much to see the Duomo and the Campanile as they are at night, so beautifully lit, continuing to draw the eyes to the heavens. We were mystified at the small size of the crowd. The evening was cool and clear, with a light breeze. Who would not walk at that time? We encountered a smallish group surrounding a street magician, vendors in the streets with lighted toys that spun into the sky, and even a carousel. Definitely a different city after night falls!
This morning we had another fascinating lecture from Bill. Our topic was architecture and symbols. There is so much to learn! Bill has boundless knowledge and so far has been able to answer every question, no matter how strange. In fact, he can usually expound on any new topic we introduce. We're certain he has so much stuffed into his brain that we'll never stump him!
For lunch we had another Tuscan picnic in our room, polishing off the salami, cheese and bread from yesterday. Mike has discovered a delicious canned iced tea with lemon that has just a hint of sugar and is happy. I stick with water. The humidity is low here, even though the heat is high, so I'm always thirsty. And of course that might have something to do with the food that I can't seem to resist.
This afternoon the group walked to the Uffizi, stopping frequently along the way for Bill to point out curiosities and treasures. We crossed the Ponte Vecchio (Old Bridge) which is lined with the most amazing jewelry shops. Never have I seen such an array of beautiful jewelry, mostly in gold. A veritable feast for the eyes, and window shopping is always free!
What follows is in the present tense, as it's very fresh in my mind:
A small group of us heads back to actually go into the Uffizi. Finally we get inside a building! It is enormous and confusing. Bill has warned us that to avoid museum fatigue we should see just a few works of art. We choose the Botticelli and da Vinci rooms. Surely the largest collection of Madonnas anywhere - and from our lessons with Bill, we know how to look at the symbols that surround the Mother and Child. What an experience! We look forward to returning more than once in the next days; our Uffizi card entitles us to a free ticket as many times as we wish to visit.
Next we make our way to the terrace, carefully avoiding museum fatigue and looking forward to the view that Bill has recommended so highly. It is indeed spectacular, although the gathering dark clouds and approaching rain are a little daunting. Today we have been smarter: our rain jackets are knotted around our waists. By the time we finally find our way out of the enormous building, another huge thunderstorm has developed. We zip up our jackets, pull up our hoods, and venture out. Mike grumbles behind me, "We need to tell all of these guys selling umbrellas and slickers to get the **** out of the way!" And actually, he has a point.
Back at the hotel, we are wet from the thighs down, and have yet another two pairs of shoes totally soaked. We are rapidly running out of dry footwear, but are very grateful for the protection we did get from our rain jackets. And it was an adventure!
Later, after we had returned to the hotel and had had a few minutes of toes-up, Mike and I ventured out into the evening. We wanted very much to see the Duomo and the Campanile as they are at night, so beautifully lit, continuing to draw the eyes to the heavens. We were mystified at the small size of the crowd. The evening was cool and clear, with a light breeze. Who would not walk at that time? We encountered a smallish group surrounding a street magician, vendors in the streets with lighted toys that spun into the sky, and even a carousel. Definitely a different city after night falls!
This morning we had another fascinating lecture from Bill. Our topic was architecture and symbols. There is so much to learn! Bill has boundless knowledge and so far has been able to answer every question, no matter how strange. In fact, he can usually expound on any new topic we introduce. We're certain he has so much stuffed into his brain that we'll never stump him!
For lunch we had another Tuscan picnic in our room, polishing off the salami, cheese and bread from yesterday. Mike has discovered a delicious canned iced tea with lemon that has just a hint of sugar and is happy. I stick with water. The humidity is low here, even though the heat is high, so I'm always thirsty. And of course that might have something to do with the food that I can't seem to resist.
This afternoon the group walked to the Uffizi, stopping frequently along the way for Bill to point out curiosities and treasures. We crossed the Ponte Vecchio (Old Bridge) which is lined with the most amazing jewelry shops. Never have I seen such an array of beautiful jewelry, mostly in gold. A veritable feast for the eyes, and window shopping is always free!
What follows is in the present tense, as it's very fresh in my mind:
A small group of us heads back to actually go into the Uffizi. Finally we get inside a building! It is enormous and confusing. Bill has warned us that to avoid museum fatigue we should see just a few works of art. We choose the Botticelli and da Vinci rooms. Surely the largest collection of Madonnas anywhere - and from our lessons with Bill, we know how to look at the symbols that surround the Mother and Child. What an experience! We look forward to returning more than once in the next days; our Uffizi card entitles us to a free ticket as many times as we wish to visit.
Next we make our way to the terrace, carefully avoiding museum fatigue and looking forward to the view that Bill has recommended so highly. It is indeed spectacular, although the gathering dark clouds and approaching rain are a little daunting. Today we have been smarter: our rain jackets are knotted around our waists. By the time we finally find our way out of the enormous building, another huge thunderstorm has developed. We zip up our jackets, pull up our hoods, and venture out. Mike grumbles behind me, "We need to tell all of these guys selling umbrellas and slickers to get the **** out of the way!" And actually, he has a point.
Back at the hotel, we are wet from the thighs down, and have yet another two pairs of shoes totally soaked. We are rapidly running out of dry footwear, but are very grateful for the protection we did get from our rain jackets. And it was an adventure!
Wonderful small hotel, a great lecture, the Duomo in 97-degree heat - and hail!
What a day! After a blissful eight hours of sleep, AND the early delivery of my suitcase to the hotel (thank you, KLM, Air France, and a totally unexpectedly efficient group of folks at the Florence airport), we had a beautiful breakfast courtesy of Carla and her son Paolo, our innkeepers here at the Hotel Casci. I must heap praises on this wonderful small hotel. The rooms are great, the water is hot, the floors are marble, there is a frescoed ceiling in the narrow dining room where we eat our breakfast and have our classes. The food! Wonderful Italian frutta, eggs supplied just for American and northern European tastes, and delicious coffee. Even the water tastes good.
After breakfast, we shower and dress and come to class at 10:30. Our instructor, Bill Walter, is an absolute fount of knowledge, with years of humanities teaching to his credit. He immerses us in the history of art and architecture for this beautiful city, and we are sorry to end at noon. In fact, we keep him talking for an extra 10 or 15 minutes, just with questions. (This is par for the course for OLLI folks. We have boundless curiosity and absolutely no shame.)
It's 12:15. Mike and I venture outdoors. It is 97 degrees already, but low humidity. Never mind - it's just plain hot. We stroll down the street, headed for a small grocery store. There we buy salami, some wonderful sliced cheese, two croissants (we can't help it, we love them), some mustard, a six-pack of acqua naturale, and (also can't help it) a bag of chips. These are special chips - nothing but potatoes, olive oil and a little salt. Back in our room, we make sandwiches and the chips are great. So are the sandwiches.
Then out the door again with the group, down the street a mere two blocks, and we are in the piazza of the Duomo. Bill accompanies us and continues the lecture from the morning, giving us all the wonderful details the guidebooks don't mention. There are literally throngs of people; it's high tourist season in Florence. That's okay with us - we're here for two weeks, and we'll come back in the evening and wander the piazza as much as we wish.
Such a great day - so far!
As we wander towards the hop-on/hop-off bus tour, which we've planned for today and which tickets will be good for 48 hours, it begins to rain. No worries; we simply duck into a gelato shop and buy a couple of cones. Mike has lemon; I have chocolate (duh). It's delicious. We sit at a table with a group of girls from Minnesota, who are visiting Italy for the first time. They are beautiful, athletic, probably a team of some sort. They're a little google-eyed - Minnesota girls probably have never experienced heat like this. We are fine. We are from Florida, after all, the humidity is low.
As the rain lets up, we all comment (as we always do back home), "Looks like it's about over." And we head for the bus, which boards near the train station, only a few blocks away.
The bus won't hold all of us in the interior, so half the group climbs to the open seating on top. The seats are wet, and there's much joking about getting them dry. One husband invites his wife to slide across both seats to dry them off; she gives him a look. We are optimistic; the brief shower has produced a cool breeze.
As the bus pulls away from the curb, the rain returns. This, my friends, is not just a gentle shower. This is an old-fashioned, gully-washing, frog-strangling, soak-you-to-the-skin-in-30-seconds, just-like-north-Florida thunderstorm, complete with lightning, thunder - and hail.
No one is prepared. This storm wasn't predicted by the Weather Channel. No one has an umbrella or a rain slicker. Some have hats; I do not. First I open a map and hold it in front of my face, as my glasses are like little windshields with no wipers. The map melts and falls apart in about five minutes. Then I use a partially unfolded brochure, just to shield my eyes. The earbuds so thoughtfully supplied by the bus company continue to pipe Verdi into my ears, and the recorded voice of the English-speaking guide cheerfully directs me to see this beautiful piazza on the right and that amazing bridge on the left. I can see nothing. It's raining cats and dogs.
Mike is as miserable as a human being possibly can be. He is angry, cold, wet, worried about his camera, which is out of its case and in his pocket. My bag has all of our money - I'm wondering if we can dry it out when we get back to our hotel. IF we get back to our hotel. The round trip lasts more than an hour, and it pours the entire time. If Dante were still around, he would create another level of hell with exactly these conditions.
However, most of our group is laughing and joking. We all look like drowned rats. Someone even jokes about a lightning strike being just about all we haven't experienced so far on this trip. Those of us raised in the deep South don't think this is one bit funny.
As we ride through the streets of Florence, cheers go up from the throngs on the sidewalks who are sensibly sheltering from the storm under awnings and umbrellas. We love the Italian shopkeepers who wave and smile and shout, "Buongiorno!" We try not to sulk. We are cold. We are shivering. We think we'll be on this bus for all eternity.
But of course we survive. After all, it's just a little rain. We get back to our hotel, strip off our wet clothes and I head for the shower. I wash and dry my hair, put on dry clothes, grab a bottle of water out of the in-room fridge, and head for the lounge. "I'm going to post on my blog," I tell Mike. He's lying on the bed, reading. "I'm going to finish this chapter, then take a shower,," he says. "In fact, it's nice to just lie here and read for a minute."
"We're on vacation," I tell him. "Enjoy!" He gives me a little wave, then goes back to his book.
A little later, we'll go out, maybe have a glass of wine, find some pasta and insalata mista somewhere, and take that evening stroll back to the Duomo. Paradise, indeed.
After breakfast, we shower and dress and come to class at 10:30. Our instructor, Bill Walter, is an absolute fount of knowledge, with years of humanities teaching to his credit. He immerses us in the history of art and architecture for this beautiful city, and we are sorry to end at noon. In fact, we keep him talking for an extra 10 or 15 minutes, just with questions. (This is par for the course for OLLI folks. We have boundless curiosity and absolutely no shame.)
It's 12:15. Mike and I venture outdoors. It is 97 degrees already, but low humidity. Never mind - it's just plain hot. We stroll down the street, headed for a small grocery store. There we buy salami, some wonderful sliced cheese, two croissants (we can't help it, we love them), some mustard, a six-pack of acqua naturale, and (also can't help it) a bag of chips. These are special chips - nothing but potatoes, olive oil and a little salt. Back in our room, we make sandwiches and the chips are great. So are the sandwiches.
Then out the door again with the group, down the street a mere two blocks, and we are in the piazza of the Duomo. Bill accompanies us and continues the lecture from the morning, giving us all the wonderful details the guidebooks don't mention. There are literally throngs of people; it's high tourist season in Florence. That's okay with us - we're here for two weeks, and we'll come back in the evening and wander the piazza as much as we wish.
Such a great day - so far!
As we wander towards the hop-on/hop-off bus tour, which we've planned for today and which tickets will be good for 48 hours, it begins to rain. No worries; we simply duck into a gelato shop and buy a couple of cones. Mike has lemon; I have chocolate (duh). It's delicious. We sit at a table with a group of girls from Minnesota, who are visiting Italy for the first time. They are beautiful, athletic, probably a team of some sort. They're a little google-eyed - Minnesota girls probably have never experienced heat like this. We are fine. We are from Florida, after all, the humidity is low.
As the rain lets up, we all comment (as we always do back home), "Looks like it's about over." And we head for the bus, which boards near the train station, only a few blocks away.
The bus won't hold all of us in the interior, so half the group climbs to the open seating on top. The seats are wet, and there's much joking about getting them dry. One husband invites his wife to slide across both seats to dry them off; she gives him a look. We are optimistic; the brief shower has produced a cool breeze.
As the bus pulls away from the curb, the rain returns. This, my friends, is not just a gentle shower. This is an old-fashioned, gully-washing, frog-strangling, soak-you-to-the-skin-in-30-seconds, just-like-north-Florida thunderstorm, complete with lightning, thunder - and hail.
No one is prepared. This storm wasn't predicted by the Weather Channel. No one has an umbrella or a rain slicker. Some have hats; I do not. First I open a map and hold it in front of my face, as my glasses are like little windshields with no wipers. The map melts and falls apart in about five minutes. Then I use a partially unfolded brochure, just to shield my eyes. The earbuds so thoughtfully supplied by the bus company continue to pipe Verdi into my ears, and the recorded voice of the English-speaking guide cheerfully directs me to see this beautiful piazza on the right and that amazing bridge on the left. I can see nothing. It's raining cats and dogs.
Mike is as miserable as a human being possibly can be. He is angry, cold, wet, worried about his camera, which is out of its case and in his pocket. My bag has all of our money - I'm wondering if we can dry it out when we get back to our hotel. IF we get back to our hotel. The round trip lasts more than an hour, and it pours the entire time. If Dante were still around, he would create another level of hell with exactly these conditions.
However, most of our group is laughing and joking. We all look like drowned rats. Someone even jokes about a lightning strike being just about all we haven't experienced so far on this trip. Those of us raised in the deep South don't think this is one bit funny.
As we ride through the streets of Florence, cheers go up from the throngs on the sidewalks who are sensibly sheltering from the storm under awnings and umbrellas. We love the Italian shopkeepers who wave and smile and shout, "Buongiorno!" We try not to sulk. We are cold. We are shivering. We think we'll be on this bus for all eternity.
But of course we survive. After all, it's just a little rain. We get back to our hotel, strip off our wet clothes and I head for the shower. I wash and dry my hair, put on dry clothes, grab a bottle of water out of the in-room fridge, and head for the lounge. "I'm going to post on my blog," I tell Mike. He's lying on the bed, reading. "I'm going to finish this chapter, then take a shower,," he says. "In fact, it's nice to just lie here and read for a minute."
"We're on vacation," I tell him. "Enjoy!" He gives me a little wave, then goes back to his book.
A little later, we'll go out, maybe have a glass of wine, find some pasta and insalata mista somewhere, and take that evening stroll back to the Duomo. Paradise, indeed.
Wednesday, June 11, 2014
Still in Amsterdam!
After a two-hour delay in ATL yesterday,we have been in Amsterdam FOREVER. The Italian air traffic controllers went on strike yesterday.so our flight from Amsterdam to Florence was canceled. We're on a much later flight through Paris and won't arrive until 9:30 this evening.The good news is that we're with OLLI friends, and, trust me,we're so punchy and sleep-deprived, the whole experience is beginning to seem like fun!
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