13 October 2008
I am not sure what to say. Sunday started out so peacefully, on such a relaxed, easy pace. After the river and lunch and a stroll through the Sunday markets, I separated from Christie to take my camera out for a walk. We met as dusk deteriorated into darkness, not far from the palazzo. The plan was to head to our standby pizza place. The food was good, the crowd was watchable and hey, a liter of sparkling wine was 7 euro. Not high-class exactly, but comforting in its predictable outcome.
On our walk over there, I decided that I wanted to explore a bit, find something new. In so doing, I had inadvertently sealed our fate for the evening. Ma-Ma approaches.
20081016
The Land of Cheese and Honey
Piazza Santa Croce was our first stop, as we strolled around to see our new neighborhood. The piazza is huge, sharply rectangular, and for this first night, it was packed with vendors of various types, selling leather bags, leather purses, jackets, leather anything. Others sold compact discs made from old American rock and roll records. We heard everything from the Beatles and Elvis to Miles Davis and the Mamas and the Papas. Oddly out of place were all the Bavarian food stands. The schnitzels and strudels and beer were everywhere. I know its October, but this is Italy! It was this evening, in the shadow of Santa Croce cathedral, and its domineering statue of Dante, that Christie discovered the miracle that is pecorino and honey. Since this evening, there have been whole treks to the farmer's market built on procuring cheese and honey to have on hand. After a tasty lasagna and a few glasses of prosecco, we moved on back to the apartment. It was getting late, especially after the voyage.
Our collective library of guidebooks had numerous suggestions for walking tours, complete with restaurants for lunch and dinner, caffes for that mid-afternoon wake-up and gelaterias for whenever. We found Vivoli around the corner from our palazzo. This shop seemed popular, and I fell in love with the cioccolatta al'arranciatta. The shop seems to close up on strange days, though. Monday for instance is not a good day to do anything tourist-related in Florence.
4 October 2008
One gelateria that was mentioned by several sources (including our "Civilized Shoppers' Guide to Florence") was not a gelateria at all but a chocolate shop called Vestri. Aside from the amazing candies we found warm drinking chocolate which, for 50 cents extra, can by topped off with a scoop of gelato. My personal nirvana comes topped with Crema Fiorentino, which is a very floral vanilla flavored gelato. If the electricity goes out for an entire day with out explanation, if there is no hot water for a couple days, even if the toilet pump stops working and floods your bathroom, cioccolatto bere con gelato will make it right.
12 October 2008
Christie asked to accompany me when I go out to sketch the city today. We walked down via Giuseppe Verde, sharing the busy, bright corridor with the morning’s busses, bicyclists and this morning’s noisy ambulance. It was a bright, beautiful morning. Really, glorious light. It was a bit colder, too. As if Autumn decided to tap us on the shoulder and be acknowledged today. Christie suggested we find a place in the sun. Piazza Santa Croce was too busy and hard to relax and focus. Besides I wanted to find a new place to explore.
We crossed the Arno, after a few twists and turns and turned west to find ourselves in the tiny, water-fronted piazza Demidoff. Quiet, sunny and sparsely populated with dogs and photographers, it was perfect for our needs. We set to work, sorting out how to pick a subject, frame it on our pages and begin composing the correct proportions. We chose a prominent loggia perched atop an otherwise non-descript apartment house across the river. It was a simple structure, with easy proportions and the perfect quick sketch project, I thought. After an hour or so, I moved over on the park bench to let Christie take a nap. It was time to re-charge I think. I walked around the piazza, and explored the central statuary dedicated to a beloved city patron. A few more minutes, feeling the excitement of living in Italy, enjoying this view of Florence and wallowing in the mix of cool breezes and hot sunshine. A thought crept up in my mind: I am leaving this place in 40 days or so. Time to wake Christie! I needed to get away from that thought or I might never return to New York.
20081008
Florence, Getting There
After months of dreaming and scheming about a trip to Italy, its finally happened. Christie called me up one day in August at my office. She asked if I wanted to move to Florence. I am not sure she really expected me to say yes, but after a lightning-round of planning, here we are!
For me, this is a chance to see the birthplace of the Italian Renaissance, where the western world woke up after the Black Plague, dusted itself off and reinvented itself almost completely. Its also a chance to eat, drink and stroll around in the sun all day long without a care in the world, which is something I haven't been able to pull off since my senior year in college.
As a first post, I am taking this chance to introduce my blog. It's a working blog. It's a tool for recording my trip, composing what I observe, and reflecting on it. Christie is also keeping a blog, and if you've read it, you will see she is updating you on all the wackiness and adventures, both real and fanciful, on this journey. That said, if you care to comment here, I will be grateful for your input just the same.
During our first week here, Christie and I have been establishing our house, mostly. We had a few things to buy, we had rent to pay, and hot water to turn on. We have a language to learn! There are similarities to the U.S. and major differences. So, we're taking a look at it all and getting our rhythm. With Christie's help, we flew over on Delta's Business Class, and wow. That's the way to fly. The only way. Slept like a baby, and who wouldn't with a three-course meal and a couple glasses of wine? in a fully-reclined, wide padded chair. with a down pillow. and comforter. Anyway, it was my first experience and it was awesome. We flew to Milan's Malpensa airport, the name of which, roughly translates to "bad thoughts" or "evil hung" depending on the web-based translator you choose. Not sure why you would choose either to name an airport...
The bus to Milan left immediately and took an hour to arrive at the central station. I was warned about ticket vendors in several guide books, and this was my first experience. The guy at the ticket booth charged us a first class rate, which we requested, since it wasn't so much more expensive, but he gave us a second class ticket. So, with ten minutes before departure, I raced (with my backpack) back to the booth, gesturing wildly until he caught on, apologized gratuitously and reprinted the ticket. Finding the correct train was another adventure. Akin to a giant shopping spree where you search desperately down each aisle as time ticks down to zero.
We boarded the correct train at last, stowed our bags and plopped down on some chairs. Christie fell asleep - she's very good at nodding off as soon as we board a vehicle. That's a great skill for a traveller as long as yer not driving. I watched the city pass away into the country. It had been overcast and a bit rainy all morning, but once we left Milan, the landscape, dissected by rows of cypress in all directions, shown gold and green under a bright, crisp sunlight.
The conductor came through our cabin in search of our biglietto. He informed us that we had a second class ticket and we were in first class. It took a couple times, but after my experience with the vendor at the station, that sinking feeling started creeping in on me before I understood the words I heard. Christie was awake now, and after a brief consultation with each other, and our aching backs, we pulled out our credit cards in a desperate plea to stay seated. Cash only, though. We prepared to pack up and move forward, until he called the train captain, who apparently has a portable card-reader. The conductor wandered off to find the captain and that was the last we heard of him. :) :D woo-hoo. Next stop: Florence.
For me, this is a chance to see the birthplace of the Italian Renaissance, where the western world woke up after the Black Plague, dusted itself off and reinvented itself almost completely. Its also a chance to eat, drink and stroll around in the sun all day long without a care in the world, which is something I haven't been able to pull off since my senior year in college.
As a first post, I am taking this chance to introduce my blog. It's a working blog. It's a tool for recording my trip, composing what I observe, and reflecting on it. Christie is also keeping a blog, and if you've read it, you will see she is updating you on all the wackiness and adventures, both real and fanciful, on this journey. That said, if you care to comment here, I will be grateful for your input just the same.
During our first week here, Christie and I have been establishing our house, mostly. We had a few things to buy, we had rent to pay, and hot water to turn on. We have a language to learn! There are similarities to the U.S. and major differences. So, we're taking a look at it all and getting our rhythm. With Christie's help, we flew over on Delta's Business Class, and wow. That's the way to fly. The only way. Slept like a baby, and who wouldn't with a three-course meal and a couple glasses of wine? in a fully-reclined, wide padded chair. with a down pillow. and comforter. Anyway, it was my first experience and it was awesome. We flew to Milan's Malpensa airport, the name of which, roughly translates to "bad thoughts" or "evil hung" depending on the web-based translator you choose. Not sure why you would choose either to name an airport...
The bus to Milan left immediately and took an hour to arrive at the central station. I was warned about ticket vendors in several guide books, and this was my first experience. The guy at the ticket booth charged us a first class rate, which we requested, since it wasn't so much more expensive, but he gave us a second class ticket. So, with ten minutes before departure, I raced (with my backpack) back to the booth, gesturing wildly until he caught on, apologized gratuitously and reprinted the ticket. Finding the correct train was another adventure. Akin to a giant shopping spree where you search desperately down each aisle as time ticks down to zero.
We boarded the correct train at last, stowed our bags and plopped down on some chairs. Christie fell asleep - she's very good at nodding off as soon as we board a vehicle. That's a great skill for a traveller as long as yer not driving. I watched the city pass away into the country. It had been overcast and a bit rainy all morning, but once we left Milan, the landscape, dissected by rows of cypress in all directions, shown gold and green under a bright, crisp sunlight.
The conductor came through our cabin in search of our biglietto. He informed us that we had a second class ticket and we were in first class. It took a couple times, but after my experience with the vendor at the station, that sinking feeling started creeping in on me before I understood the words I heard. Christie was awake now, and after a brief consultation with each other, and our aching backs, we pulled out our credit cards in a desperate plea to stay seated. Cash only, though. We prepared to pack up and move forward, until he called the train captain, who apparently has a portable card-reader. The conductor wandered off to find the captain and that was the last we heard of him. :) :D woo-hoo. Next stop: Florence.
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