A SMALL TRIBUTE

I read one of those year-end wrap-up kinds of columns in the newspaper today – you know, the ones that talk about New Year’s resolutions, either the failed ones from last year or the hopeful ones for the coming year – and this author’s version of that annual exercise was intriguing.

                She contended that one should stop to be grateful for the quotidian, the mundane. She begins her recitation of gratitude with praise for her washer and dryer. I was hooked.

                As a young wife way back in the early ‘70s, I did laundry as my fellow Navy wives did: at the laundromat. We moved around so much, six months here, three months there, six weeks elsewhere, and we lived in furnished apartments and once, memorably, in a single-wide trailer parked at the side of a country road. My husband was training to be a pilot and we began in Pensacola, transferred to Corpus Christi, had a brief time in Newport, RI, and finally landed for what was to be four years in Jacksonville. Through all of that first 18 months of marriage, I hung out in apartment complex laundry rooms or in commercial laundry joints, where the machines were huge and pretty much mangled everything.

                In Jacksonville, we bought our first house. It was modest, located in a rural area, tiny, immaculate. It had a laundry room. No garbage disposal, but definitely a laundry room. We agreed that we could buy a washer and dryer on time. My husband, who grew up in a Navy family, had pretty rigid ideas about things like appliances. Sears was the first and only store we visited.

                Since I had gone straight from living in a college dorm (where, you guessed it, we had a laundry room) to living the nomadic life of a pilot trainee’s wife, I hadn’t used an actual laundry appliance that was located in an actual home in years. An important part of my day involved building my collection of quarters. I had been known to make several stops for small purchases simply for the joy of the 25-cent pieces I would receive in change. Quarters were the living embodiment of ease at the laundromat. And the lack of quarters – alas! Torture.

                So as we wandered through the appliance area of our local Sears store, I marveled at machines that had no coin slots attached. I lifted lids and read directions. I twirled knobs and peered into tubs. I read brochures. I compared Kenmore to Whirlpool and, Cadillac of washers, Maytag.

                My husband, who never shopped without having read Consumer Reports, interrupted me in mid-caress of a particularly attractive model in the trendiest Harvest Gold: “We are buying only Kenmore. And no color. White. It’s ten dollars cheaper.” I had faith; he had not let me down, ever, in matters of money. “Okay,” said I. I didn’t care – I was about to have an Actual Washing Machine in my Actual Laundry Room.

                And so it happened. A few days later, the Sears delivery truck pulled off our dirt road and into our driveway, and lickety-split, the laundry room was occupied as its creator had intended. Gleaming white, shiny, quietly efficient, there stood our very own Washer and Dryer. I was daydreamed about starring in a TV commercial where two women are discussing the joys of fabric softener.

                This happened 42 years ago. That Kenmore dryer dried my laundry for over 30 years, and I replaced it with another Kenmore. I have owned a few more washers than dryers, and my current one is a modest Maytag. (My butt-crack appliance guy told me, “Git the bottom Maytag. Same washer, not so many electronic things to break down, does a great job. Don’t let them salesmen talk you into anything fancy.” Mr. Butt-Crack has always steered me right.)

                The following is no exaggeration:  When I do laundry, I experience a little thrill, truly a twinge of pleasure. Every. Single. Time.  I have my own appliances. No coin slots. No scrounging for quarters (“Don’t give her the correct change, are you out of your mind? I need those quarters”). I’ve experimented with detergents, fabric softener sheets, Woolite for the Washing Machine, even those dry cleaning things (which don’t work). I’ve thrown the kids’ shirts in the dryer to “de-wrinkle.” I’ve washed baby spit-up, baby poop, dog spit-up, dog poop, and, on one particularly awful weekend, lots of vomit. And, miraculously, all those awful, gross, disgusting, smelly things have disappeared, leaving clean sheets, towels, blue jeans, sweatshirts, and ugly Christmas sweaters sparkling clean.

                The word “miraculous” is perfect. And I will never, until the day I do my last load of laundry, stop feeling grateful. 

Our last day in Florence

This morning we caught a commuter train to Arezzo, which was an interesting experience in itself. Though it's been decades since I traveled by train in Europe, I remember it as being quite a pleasant way to move from place to place. This train didn't disappoint. Though it stopped many times between the two cities, it was comfortable, cool, and very smooth - a marvel of electricity and automation.

What had been planned as an all-day excursion had to be shortened because our group has been invited to a little celebration of our visit put on by the proprietors and staff of our most excellent hotel. It was decided that we would spend only a couple of hours in Arezzo so as to have most of the afternoon in Florence to do a few last-minute errands, complete our packing, and enjoy our party.

Arezzo is a lovely town. We had an opportunity to visit the Chapel of St. Francis and view the wonderful frescoes depicting the Legend of the True Cross. We also visited Il Gelato, which is one of the Top 10 shops listed in our guidebook. The gelato is homemade and features some unusual flavors. Mike and I had some of the pine nut flavor. Delicioso indeed! Bill suggested that I point out the reference to his little shop in our guidebook to the proprietor, and when I did, he smiled and said he already knew that. Guess we weren't the first Americans to seek him out . . . .

Upon our return to Florence, we came back to our hotel and got as much packing done as we could before we finish up tonight. As our flight leaves at 6:30 a.m., we'll be up in the middle of the night, catching a cab. Needless to say, the less we have to do at 4:00 a.m., the better.

Mike and I decided we would take one last leisurely stroll around the neighborhood. After a very successful visit to a leather shop (a new PURPLE bag), we wandered the streets in a section that is frequented by the many college students who are doing study abroad here in the summertime. We found a little bar, sat on the street and had a coffee and a beer, and just indulged in a little people-watching. What a treat! We're trying to inhale the ambiance of Florence and keep these images fresh until we can get home and look at our photos and match them up with our recollection. Even though we had thought two weeks would be enough, that we could then move on to travel to other cities and countries, we now admit that the idea of a return visit is extremely attractive. After all, we have discovered a perfect hotel and know this city like the back of our hands! Well, maybe not so much - but we are certainly comfortable wandering on our own. The presence of the Duomo, visible from almost anywhere in the central city, gives us a landmark by which to find our way back to our very comfortable "home." We love it here.

So now I sit and record these thoughts in the hotel bar. Today is very hot, so the window is closed and the air conditioning is turned on in the bar for the first time since we arrived. We listen to Pierpaolo as he deals with new arrivals and answers the phone, shifting easily from Italian to English and back to Italian. The large flat-screen TV in the now-deserted breakfast area chatters away, featuring a sort of Italian soap opera (we think). It's just another late afternoon in Florence, at Hotel Casci, Via Cavour 13. How we will miss all of this!

The Pitti Palace and LOTS of shopping

This morning everyone slept in a bit, then a few of us gathered and set out for the Pitti Palace. As we were in no hurry, we went by the mercato nuovo to let one of our group put a coin in the boar's mouth. It slipped from the boar's bronze tongue right down into the grate - which means that Fran will return to this citta bellissima.

Onward to the Pitti Palace, once the home of the Medicis, then later remodeled and refurbished by Lorraine-Hapsburgs. What an amazing place! We wandered the Palatine Gallery and the royal apartments and most thoroughly enjoyed our peek into Napoleon's bathroom (which Rick Steves assures us he never used, and we have found our boy Rick to be completely authoritative!)

After a quick walk through a portion of the Boboli Gardens and a peek inside the Grotto, we moved across the street and had a bit of lunch and some acqua naturale (and used the W.C.) Then we started our serious shopping. On our initial trip we had spotted a jewelry store that was more reasonable than the gold markets along the Ponte Vecchio, so on our trip back, we stopped and browsed the earrings. We looked at fabulous mosaic work, wonderful leather gloves lined with cashmere, and T-shirts. I really wanted one that said "Ciao, Bella" in rhinestones, but they were definitely sized for young women who weigh 85 pounds - not for those of us with more matronly figures. But I may go back tomorrow . . . .

Now we're back at the hotel, finishing up little dribs and drabs of bottles of wine, some cheese, some crackers, some pesto. I sit in my favorite spot near the open window, writing these words and chatting with friends, sipping the wine. We are waiting for the six of our group who journeyed to Rome this weekend, and plan to have dinner with them and hear all about their adventures. We have become a close-knit group, thoroughly enjoying each other, laughing at our misadventures and marveling at the serendipitous happenings we've encountered. For instance, at last count Mike and I have seen four bridal parties, one of which had groomsmen clothed in kilts! This was in Cortona, and was surprising, to say the least.

We have chatted with vendors and gracious salespeople from all over the world. Some speak English, some speak a tiny bit of English, and some speak no English at all. All of them have been smiling and friendly, and with our cobbled-together Italian, we have done just fine. We startled one sandwich-maker with a request for bruschetta with tomatoes AND cheese, but for the most part, folks just smile and give us that "crazy Americans" look and wish us buongiorno or buona sera - or perhaps even give us a "ciao" as we leave a shop. We are old hands. If we had just one more week . . . .

Today, a time to stroll, explore, tie up some loose ends - and eat!

It's almost 10:30 p.m. here in Florence, and I'm stuffed.

Today we ventured out around 11:00 a.m. and walked over to Santa Maria Novella to visit the Officina Farmacia, where wonderful cosmetics and natural remedies are compounded in the same manner and using the same materials that were developed by the monks and have been used for centuries. It's a beautiful small shop that smells absolutely divine. How many such places are worthy of photographs? We took some, smelled a few things, and bought a little.

After returning to the hotel to drop off our purchases, we decided to make our final trip to the Uffizi. Bill has advised us from the beginning of our pilgrimage that the Uffizi is most satisfying when taken in small sips rather than big gulps. We chose three artists, Raphael, Titian, and Caravaggio. What a pleasure to really study the paintings, trying to "read" them as Bill has shown us. We loved the Titians most of all.

Looking for just a little snack for lunch, we popped into the Da Vinci museum. This exhibit contains models built from Da Vinci's drawings, and they are truly amazing. For a mere eight euro, we got a slice of pizza, a drink and an admission ticket. We spent a lovely half hour browsing the machines, marveling at the genius of Leonardo. I'm thinking he was an alien among us. In addition to writing up his ideas in script that read from left to right, he dreamt of things that he couldn't possibly have anticipated: helicopters, tanks, automobile differential systems, and some truly wicked weapons of war.

At 3:30, we met our group back at the hotel, ordered two taxis, and set off to the lovely mountain village of Fiesole. High atop the city, Fiesole is very, very old. It contains some truly fascinating Etruscan and Roman ruins. We browsed the archaeological museum and marveled at the ancient finds preserved there. I cannot imagine the reaction of the scientists who found the first of these tombs. There are actually small drinking glasses that are intact, some of them buried with their owners 2,000 years ago. The excitement must have been overwhelming!

After a small break for caffee latte in the tiny shaded bar, we ventured up a very, very steep hilly street that wound around into another very, very steep hilly street and found our restaurant. Our reservation was for 7:00 p.m., and we were seated right on the dot. Since we are in Italy, we were the first patrons to arrive. We old Americans dine very early in the evening by Italian standards. (By the time we left around 9:00 p.m., the place was full!) We had a very beautiful and delicious meal, probably the most elaborate one yet, complete with aperitivo and bruschetta offered at no charge by the house, followed by antipasto and our main courses. Some of the braver among us had dessert. Then we had to get ourselves back down that hilly street and into our cabs to return to our hotel.Probably a good thing - we certainly needed a little exercise after all of that lovely food.

As I sit in the small bar here at the Hotel Casci, I can hear the sounds of the street outside the open windows. A light breeze is blowing, and there are large groups of young people walking below. It's Saturday night. World Cup Soccer is on the TV, and all eyes are on the screen. I'm tired - and stuffed! To bed. Tomorrow, the Pitti Palace, the Boboli Gardens, and the Palazzo Vecchio.

We're are so comfortable here, and . . . .

This morning Bill delivered his last lecture to us. He spoke of sculpture and the color green. We were to visit the Bargello this afternoon, and it's been his practice all week to prepare us for what we will see in our wanderings.

Class was cut a bit short in order to give us time to visit places we haven't made it to quite yet. Mike and I feasted on salami, cheese, bread, and chips in our room, then set out for the San Marco monastery. It is fascinating. Each monk's cell has its own fresco. The cell reserved for Cosimo Medici (who certainly wasn't a monk, but often came to San Marco for a retreat) is, by the standards of monks, quite elaborate. He had his own chapel!

This beautifully preserved building is home to a display that outlnes the procedure used by the monks to create illuminated manuscripts. Also on display are examples of the books they created. But most compelling is the cell of Savaronola. It contains a painting, a bust, and several of the vestments of the monk. Famous for creating the Bonfire of the Vanities before the people turned against him, Savaronola was burned in the Piazza della Signoria, his remains gathered and burned again, then gathered and burned a third time. The ashes were thrown into the Arno. Needless to say, there is no relic available should anyone wish to commemorate Savaronola!

We walked from the Piazza di San Marco down to the Piazza della Signoria to meet Bill and the group at the Loggia del Lanzi. This vaulted space is home to beautiful Roman sculptures and others that are very familiar: Perseus with the (bloody, severed) head of Medusa; the Rape of the Sabine Women; Hercules slaying the Centaur. Then we went a few blocks down the street to the Bargello, which is Florence's primary sculpture museum. Home to works by Michelangelo, Donatello, and many others, it is simply overwhelming. One could spend days in this beautiful building. Perfectly curated and loaded with information (in English - yay!), this museum is an absolute don't-miss. My favorite is the young Michelangelo's statute of the young David, who looks like a triumphant teenager, ready to brag to his friends!

At this point in the day, I needed a little pick-me-up; in fact, I needed someone to pick me up and carry me! So a small group of us went to a local department store which features a rooftop cafe with a most glorious view. I had a caffee latte, which delivered the necessary jolt, then we journeyed on.

We strolled to the mercato nuovo and shopped for a bit, then wandered back to the Piazza di Repubblica, where a young woman was singing and the carousel was full of children. Making our way to the Duomo, we passed a procession of Hare Krishnas, and followed a bride and groom to the front steps of the church.

Mike, Carolyn and I simply stood there and soaked it in. The sun on the Campanile and the dome of the church, the blue sky, the cool breeze, the throngs of tourists, the street vendors, the pigeons - how can we bear to leave this magical place?

We are so comfortable here now, after having been here over a week - and we have so few days remaining. We are heading out to dinner tonight to one of our favorite spots, then to bed! Tomorrow will be another beautiful day in Firenze.

Siena and San Gimignano

Today we're back on the bus, headed for Siena. We've been looking forward to this trip, as Siena is a town frozen in time. Devastated by the Plague, the city fathers were unable to continue their ambitious long-range plans, which was pretty awful for Siena, but gives our group of pilgrims an opportunity to see more of the medieval art and architecture which Florence replaced with the beautiful creations of the Renaissance, for the most part.

We walk along a section of Siena's city wall. It looks as old as any structure we've encountered. It seems to undulate. Constructed of plain bricks, it may be impregnable - and certainly is on track to last another 900 years, at least.

We move into the city itself and walk to the Piazza Pubblica, which is sometimes called the most beautiful piazza in Italy - many feel it might be the most beautiful in the world. The piazza slopes in a gentle bowl shape down to the Palazzo Pubblica, which served Siena as its primary muncipal building. Around the edges of the rim of the bowl are ristorantes and trattorias and a gelato shop that bills itself as having the best ice cream in the world. One of our group was compelled to sample the gelato. She agreed that it was pretty good, but isn't sure that it holds the world record!

This piazza is home to a famous horse race, the Palio, in which an enormous crowd gathers in the bottom of the bowl and the horses race around the rim. We understand that it's an extremely dangerous race for the horses, and many of them are seriously injured running on the ancient bricks. At other times, the people of Siena treat the piazza much the way Floridians approach the beaches. They sit and sun and chat and simply pass the time.

Inside the Palazzo Pubblica we view the frescoes that depict Good Government and Bad Government. These were quite revolutionary in their day as they are based on the idea that man can have direct input into the quality of his life simply by operating in a peaceful, communal way. Even though the Sienese were devout Christians, they accepted the idea that they could control their lives in a way that communities had never attempted before. The frescoes are remarkable.

For lunch we grab a slice of pizza and a bottle of water and eat and drink as we continue exploring the town. We visit the Duomo, which is famous for its patterned floors, its striped columns and its frescoed ceilings. And on the way back to our bus, we stop in at the Basilica of St. Catherine. The patron saint of Italy, St. Catherine is credited with returning the papacy to Rome from Avignon. Her basilica contains her head, inside a box. Inside another box is one of her fingers. I intend to spend some time on line when I get home - this definitely calls for more research! Since she has been dead since the 14th century, the appearance of her face, complete with rosy skin and beautiful eyes, seems pretty incredible. The finger, on the other hand, is dried and wizened. It's definitely a finger, though, complete with fingernail.

Back on our bus, we head for the beautiful mountain town of San Gimignano. San Gimignano once boasted over 70 towers, built successively higher by competing wealthy families. Fourteen of these are still standing, and the view from the base of the mountain is amazing. As we climb the very, very steep streets we catch glimpses of some of the towers. In the main piazza we turn slowly and count - seven towers visible.

This is a wonderful shopping town. We find a pink shirt for our granddaughter; a lovely framed piece of local art for ourselves, one which depicts the towers of San Gimignano; and finally buy a bottle of the lovely fruity white wine for which the region is famous. It's made with the vernaccia grape. We are finally beginning a little shopping and are thoroughly enjoying this wonderful mountain day.

As we ride back to Florence, admiring the skill of our intrepid driver, Marco, the conversation ebbs and flows around us. We hear discussions about what we've seen, what kinds of OLLI classes we'd like to see as a result of our experiences here, what museums we still must visit before we leave next week, what gifts we've bought for whom. Packages of chocolate biscotti, bags of sweet licorice, small packs of cookies, candied peanuts make their way up and down the aisle. We share what we have bought. We are pilgrims, and friends.

Back in Firenze, we ask Pierpaulo, the concierge, to make a reservation at a restaurant that he loves. Eight of us venture out; we have decided that we will order bistecca this evening. The giant T-bone steaks were recommended highly by our Italian language teacher, Fabrizio. Mike and I split a spinach pie for antipasto, then split the single steak. The bone is enormous - think Fred Flintstone and dinosaur steak. The spinach is divine, very similar to a spinach souffle. The steak has a flavor we've never tasted and is delicious. Along with a couple of pitchers of house Chianti and some fizzy water, we have a feast. Oh, and the Tuscan bread, which is unsalted and has become an acquired taste.

After a couple of hours talking and laughing with these lovely friends, we stroll back to the hotel. We resist the temptation to stop for gelato, but come back and uncork the wine we bought today. And here we sit, in the friendly bar at our hotel, chatting and sipping. I work on the blog and Mike checks the email for messages from the offspring; others plan their weekend trip to Rome, and our friendly hotelier watches over us all. Outside the open window (did I mention there are NO bugs?) we can hear the traffic passing. The breeze is lovely. Tomorrow we visit the Bargello, probably return to the Ufizzi, and maybe visit the church of San Marco to view the cell of Savonarola. We'll have another wonderful breakfast, a quick lunch sandwich, and another fabulous dinner. We wish we had another week.

Breathtaking mountain towns

The city of Assisi hangs on the side of a mountain and fairly gleams in the sunlight. It's easy to imagine the Franciscans of the 13th century moving silently through the colonnaded walkways and singing in the chapels. Our group strolled the cobbled streets, wonderfully uncrowded, delighting in the cool mountain breeze. The basilica of San Francesco is another beautiful sacred space, marred by the evidence of the damage done by the earthquake of 1997. Whole chunks of fresco were dislodged (killing several pilgrims), and all present hurried to gather every single shard of stone that fell to the floor.Even in the midst of a deadly earthquake, all souls in that space understood that the art had to be preserved. (I understand that one enterprising visitor recorded this on his video camera, and it can be found on YouTube.) Since the church is a UNESCO World Heritage Site, there have been U.N. funds available to assist in restoration, and it's well under way.

Particularly compelling to me was a very modern crucifix, depicting St. Francis prostrate at the foot of the cross. One of the arms of the crucified Christ is hanging freely from the cross, and his extended hand points to the monk. It could easily have been done by Picasso, but wasn't, of course. Of all the crucifixes we have seen, I found this to be the most interesting.

As we wandered back to our bus, we stopped for gelato. Mike had his usual limone, and I tried the stracciatella, which turned out to be vanilla with chocolate chips - delicious!

Did I mention that this was not my first gelato?

We went down the mountain and journeyed back north to Cortona. As I have been reading "Under the Tuscan Sun," this town was of particular interest to me. Our afternoon excursions have been mostly devoted to lunch, relaxation and conversation. How we wished we had more time in this truly beautiful village! Cortona has only one truly level street - all others are either straight up or straight down. This can be very challenging, especially for the senior citizens in our pilgrim group (actually that's all of us). But what a reward! I believe I took the most photos in Cortona. Every vista seemed to be a photo op.

At lunch we encountered our first locals who truly did not speak English. Thank you, Fabrizio, for your excellent tutelage in Italian (OLLI Maymester). Between pointing, gesturing, and some southern-accented Italian, we were able to communicate our order, ask for the check, and let our hosts know that our meal was molto bene.

Now I am home at the Hotel Casci, sitting with the group in the hotel bar, having an adult beverage and writing this account. The bar is half of the space that Rossini occupied in the 19th century, and definitely has good vibes. And this is where I write these accounts.

At this point in our trip, we are wishing we had an additional week. We feel comfortable, acclimated, and no longer jet-lagged. Bill assures us that no amount of time would be sufficient. Our only recourse is to return to Florence, to arrange for more time in Lucca, Assisi and Cortona. (Don't really feel a need to return to Pisa.) What a wonderful trip!