Art and Food

Today has been the hottest one yet in Florence and the first one where I've gotten so tired that we've come back to the room earlier than usual. Our entry into the Uffizi was a bright and early 10:15 - and already the piazza and the museum entrances were packed with tourists. Above all, the worst thing about the city are the tour groups. They travel like packs of wolves and come in all shapes, sizes and languages. Behind their leaders, they walk like zombies through the city and museums - headsets in their ears and following the person holding the numbered stick. They cut you off and you have to weave around them lest they swallow you into their group. This morning was no exception. Despite our tickets, we let the passing train of people pass us by before we attempted to go inside.

Once again, facing Rosemarie - there they were..the stairs. Lots of them that led to the first level of the gallery. Gripping the handrail she made her way to the top and we started our audio tour. Now, I'm a big fan of recorded tours so I was a bit disappointed at the quality of the one for the gallery. Not only was it confusing, but it was also difficult to find the corresponding numbers in the rooms to press. Once we did, the descriptions were minimal and at the end of each section, all that was missing was the voice to say, "Now get the hell out of this room."

Many of the paintings the faceless voice directed you to were being restored, so we'd search in vain for this or that religious representation only to face a tiny photocopy on the railing where the picture hung. Of course, the prize of the gallery to me is Botticelli's Birth of Venus. Behind glass, the painting takes up nearly the entire wall of one of the rooms. It's stunning in its beauty and colors. My mother had never seen the picture before but was immediatly enraptured by it.

From room to room, it was clear that the rich of centuries past had huge egos. Without fail, the patons were depicted in the masterpieces as part of the saints. It was a "Where's Waldo" game of the Medici family.

Over two hours later, we were once again famished. I don't know how we get so hungry, but the only solution is to eat yet again. Pizza is the food of choice for lunch and today we surpassed yesterday's meal. We'd passed a Pizzeria several times during our stay and I made a direct route to it today.

I think an entire bottle of olive oil must have been poured over the pie. Sopping with it, the pizza was a gift from God as was the massive calzone that my mother had in front of her. Now, Rosemarie has a tendency to offer you her food saying she can't eat it all - this is a lie.

As we ate, the more I pressed down on the pizza, the more oil was released and I sopped up every last drop.

Oil is my new lover.

Next to us during lunch were a father and son from Sacramento, making them the third pair of Californians that we've met so far.  Of course, what comes after pizza but gelato. Years ago, I'd gone to a place called Vivoli and thinking I could find it again, we set off. The sun was out in full force and several bottles of water later, we wandered into a cute ice cream store, giving up on trying to find the other. It was a fortuitous stop as this creamy concoction surpassed all that we had up til now. Sitting at the covered seating area, we devoured yet more high fat content ice cream. Of course - what did we find as we walked back? Vivoli. And what did I do? Yes, I got another cup of fat. Strangely, either it was the chocolate flavor or my heart was still at our last stop or it could be I was just too full, but this gelato was the lowest on the cream scale to date.

Continuing on, we decided to make our way to the train station so we were sure of where to go tomorrow for our day trip to Rome. We are meeting my high school friend Cinza and this morning, when we chatted, it was if we were still 17 years old. I couldn't believe what it was like to hear her voice again. Tomorrow is going to be an incredible memory.

Walking to the station, you're faced with cars zipping by you and we had to stick to the sidewalks or be run over by crazy Italians. The best part is watching the drivers swear in their native tongue and gesturing out the window. It's classic Italy. It's an easy 25 minute walk, so we'll have no trouble in the morning.

The heat was intense so we stopped into Santa Maria Novella. What is about the Catholics? Is a chuch of this size really necessary? Of course, there was an admittance fee.

"Is she over 65?" the ticket taker asked.

"Oh, you bet," I replied as my mother's ticket was free of charge as a result.

Stained glass, alters, crypts. You name it, it's inside this church. We lit a candle of course, because that's what we do and sat for awhile to escape the outside sun. At last, we headed back, mailed some postcards and dragging our weary selves back to our room, I have fallen asleep five times trying to write this entry. Rosemarie just woke up and said, "I think we should take a nap."

I think we should because it will almost be time to eat again.

Dinner Can Be Musical

Believe it or not, we found the restaurant. Armed with my map of Florence, we followed the twisting roads that led, right off the Ponte Vecchio, to La Posta. With a row of tables along the sidewalk under a yellow canape, pink napkins on the tables, and the friendly greeting of the staff, the restaurant is not to be missed on your visit to Florence.

 Of course, right away, we ordered wine and much to my surprise, my mother had an entire glass. Perhaps now, I will only order red so I can keep it all to myself. Starting the meal with Forttunta (toasted bread soaked with olive oil and TONS of garlic), the dinner was off to a gastronomic delight. Rosemarie had gnocchi ala pomodoro while I dived into Ravioli Rosa. The pasta was so light that it didn't seem as if we ate at all. In fact, I had to scrape all of the sauce from my mother's plate - I wasn't about to waste a drop. The pasta and antipasto reminded us of my father's mother who loved garlic as much as I do. For years, she would tell Rosemarie that there was no garlic in her cooking despite my mother biting into huge chunks of it. We sprinkled both with a generous helping of parmesean cheese.

Of course, I added a primo secondo and it was one of my favorites, veal. Politically incorrect, but someone has to eat it and this is Italy and I'm Italian. Yet, perhaps the most incredible portion was the Tiramisu..overladen with marscapone cheese and just the right amount of rum, bits of chocolate sprinkled throughout and strawberries folded into the delicate yellow cream, the dessert lasted less than two minutes between us.

Sitting next to us was a lovely young couple from, of all places, Orange County. Celebrating their four years together, the two were the most gorgeous couple and heard us talking about our day and asked me my opinion on the Pitti Palace, since like us, had visited Paris and loved Versailles. Since I think the Florence equivalent is a poor man's version without the Marie Antoinette history, they took my advice and opted to save their euro for Rome.

Of course, my mom's obsession with the Casey Anthony trial came to a conclusion during our meal when my brother texted me the verdict. The Orange Country couple and I knew what the outcome would be so we had a grand time convincing my mother that the jury had done its job. As if on cue to get Rosemarie's mind back to surroundings, soon after we paid our check, we listened to the incredible sounds of a youth symphony in the Piazzia Signoria. With the strings echoing throughout the square, we were both enraptured by the string section. And, for a little taste of home, the rousing 1812 Overture echoed over the night sky. Every American in the crowd and everyone else of course, cheered - it's a small world and one where music can really make the world unite.

I walked my mother back to our bed & breakfast and I went out for a nightcap that proved that men are men - no matter where in the world you find them.Give me a Tiramusa in Florence over them any day.

Pizza, Cannolis and Gelato: Oh My

Today started off with a passing rain shower. My mom and I had breakfast on the patio, looking at all the clothes hanging out on the lines of the neighbors. There's four people here from Orange County as well as a good looking family of four from Toronto. The OC folks leave in the morning and I'm wondering if a more, well, shall I say, Los Angeles type of person takes their place.

I planned to have the day be simply a walk and look tour of the city and we've found a restaurant that looks great. Trouble is, will we be able to find it again tonight? I've written the name and the street and will attempt to make our way there this evening. On the way, we were stopped in our tracks by a bakery. And there they were...cannolis. The hard crispy shell with an inside chocolate coating was the perfect complement to the creamy cheese filling. We had to lick our fingers along with the paper before we decided we had had enough.

Stopping in some nameless Italian church, we lit some candles and on the way out, I even dipped my finger in the holy water and made the sign of the cross. I figured I'm in the land of the Catholics, it won't hurt to act like one for a brief amount of time. We past the museum that houses The David, but with a three hour wait, we decided to reserve tickets for later in the week. It was the one thing I did not buy beforehand, so I'm hoping to rectify that today. With umbrellas packed just in case, we set off for a leisurely stroll across the Ponte Vecchio. Bumper to bumper walking traffic met us all the way to the other side where we decided to check out the Pitti Palace and Boboli Gardens.

If you've been to Versailles, then the Florence equivalent pales in comparison. Even Rosemarie could tell these rich kings really had egos bigger than both palaces combined. Once again, I bought us the audio tour and without fail, Rosemarie kept pushing too many buttons to turn it on. With a little help from me, she got the hang of it and we proceeded through the countless rooms full of portraits, gold, marble, tapestries and frescos. As with Versailles, these kings and queens were squat little people. My entire lower half would hang over the side of the tiny beds and chaise lounges. Passing the hordes of tour groups, we bought admittance to the gardens in the back of the palace.

With my mom holding on to me and the guard rail, we made it to the top for an incredible view of the city.

"We don't have to go any further," I said, worried it was too much of a hike for her.

"Nope. I didn't come here to stay this far down, let's go to the top."

I must admit, looking towards the top and feeling the sun beating down on me, I was kind of hoping she wanted to turn around. Once there, as I looked at the murky green water of the pond, I hoped that  no one ate the fish who were swimming and jumping out of the water. Jumping fish was quite bizarre and after having our picture taken, we headed back down for lunch.

Perhaps there's nothing better to eat in Italy than pizza. The trouble is deciding which establishment to visit. The sun at its peak and we both decided that inside and cool was the best place to be. The host sat us next to a mother and daughter who I knew instantly were Americans. They made for a fun lunch conversation as they've never been to Florence and I directed them to the must see sights for the day.

Our spiced salami pizza with onions was in a word - perfection. This is no deep dish American version - this is, pure and simple, pizza. A thin crust just on the verge of being burnt, yet remaining light and crispy was saturated with olive oil. My mom and I can never get enough oil on our pizza and it took everything we had to not wipe the plate with our tongues.

Getting ready for that oil  - and oh, yes, the pizza too.

As I suspected, the server thought our lunch neighbors and us were one party. I gave them enough euros to cover our share of the bill and we set off for the only thing that is an every day must have: gelato.

As hard as it was to resist my favorite flavor, pistachio - I let my mom order that while I dove into the dolce de latte. Yes, the fat content is higher and yes, you can taste that the fat content is higher and no, you don't give a damn of what it will do to your waistline as you eat even the cone where the gelato thinks it can escape.
It was  now either more walking or take a B&B break, and we opted to make the hike to the Piazzalle  Michaelangelo.

Now, anyone who's been to Italy knows what a challenge it is to cross the street. There are rules of the road, but the Italians don't bother to obey them. I turned to my mom, told her to walk with me quickly and we'd get across. So imagine my surprise when I turned around and saw Rosemarie still on the opposite side of the street. A few speeding motorbikes and scooters later, she joined me at last. It was then as we headed towards the piazzalle that we saw a staircase that reminded us all to much of our time in Paris.

"Do you want to go back?" I asked thinking she had done enough uphill climbing for the day.

The trouper that she is, we made it, although we did stop on every section so she could catch her breath. It was today that I realized that for as much as I can forget and take for granted, my mom really is 76. As one of her hands held my arm and the other the wall of the staircase, I thanked whatever higher power there is that I was experiencing all this with my mother.

My mom contemplates how many stairs we have left to the top.

Arriving at the top, the view was simply breathtaking, and of course, there were two gelato shops on either side. Note to travelers, never regret passing an ice cream shop and stopping in because there's one coming up in ten seconds.


My mom and I walked around the perimeter of the piazzale, got our picture taken and walked over to look at one of the copies of The David. The poor bastard is green and covered with bird shit but he's still one of the best looking naked men I've ever seen.

We found the WC before we headed back down and thought how horrible it would be to be the woman working behind the booth there. You're in Florence and you sit behind glass in a public restroom taking .60e from every person who needs to empty their bladder. Sufficiently relieved, we headed back down the immense set of stairs, where I held onto Rosemarie as she had a slight trip.

"Will you please put two feet on each stair instead of just one?" I implored.

"That makes me feel like an old lady."

"You are an old lady!" I laughed before I proceeded to lose my footing on the sidewalk.

"Now who's old," my mother observed. Touche Rosemarie, touche.

We've added six more miles to our total today and it's time to nap and google that restaurant. It's not up any hills or stairs, so that's something in our favor tonight.

Take A Right At The Ass

My mom and I both had impromptu naps today. Between the flights and walking around the city, we were exhausted, so a quick hour of shut eye was all we needed to get ready for dinner. The small European bathroom is a challenge, but we are making it work and figuring out which way to turn the key to the bed & breakast was a challenge. I kept locking ourselves out for what seemed an eternity.

After wandering around the city looking for the perfect outdoor seating, we settled on a place close to our bed & breakfast that I had gone to back in 1999. The food, while still amazing, was dimmed a bit by the service. First though, the pasta with fresh ricotta and mozzarella with a creamy tomato sauce was undeniably, the best thing I have eaten in months. The bruschetta, crispy, yet oily with a hint of garlic topped with sweet tomatoes and basil was just about heaven on our lips. Alas, my tagliatelle seemed to disappear in the kitchen and we decided to nix the prosciutto salad, opting instead to go in search of some gelato. Although we had the perfect table - you should never sit behind a bush because the servers won't only see you, they will think you are done with your meal when in reality you've only finished the first course.

My mom and I talked about a million things - conversations that delve into my personal life - things I never share with anyone and I, once again, consumed the whole bottle of Vino Rosso.

"Maybe you shouldn't you drink the whole carafe," Rosemarie said to me when I couldn't remember what she just asked me five minutes prior. Then she laughed and poured me the rest of the wine.

Since the service was taking as long as it did to fly here from Boston, we nixed the last course. I even left an extra 2e just so we could escape and walk the piazza. You'd think I'd left the server a fifty dollar tip from her reaction.

Out into the streets we went in search of gelato and we ran smack into the Simple Minds concert. Yes, that Simple Minds. My mom and I wandered into a few gelato places, but instead opted to get fat later in the week and instead head back to the bed and breakfast. We were looking for the correct street to turn down and I simply pointed to Neptune and said to Rosemarie, "Just take a right at the ass."

Ciao Florence

After a delayed departure from Frankfurt. My mom and I arrived in the Renaissance City at 1:30. Looking at the bright green hillsides and the familair buildings brought back all my memories of this place. I warned my mom before we got to Dei Mori, that there were a lot - A LOT - of stairs leading up to the second floor. That didn't stop her from tying to help with bags, though, despite my telling her to stay put. I paid the hotel bill today - no going to the ATM to get out money for that and I loved the sound of the 15% cash discount. It's hot and a bit muggy, so the a/c got turned on immediately.

I unpacked us and then we headed to the streets surrounding the b&b. According to her odometer, she and I walked 2.18 miles today. Hunger was calling and I didn't keep it waiting. We stopped at our first outdoor cafe and had some mineral water and an incredible mozzarella and pomadoro sandwich. Bar Giudici over looks the Arno River and has scooters zipping and zig zagging away from the pedestrians. It's classic Italian right down to the old man chain smoking a pack of camel cigarettes a few tables away. I'll tell you right now, there's going to be a lot of food descriptions on here and today it starts with that sandwich. The tomato was as if it were completely made of water, soft, juicy, red and oozing its juice over the fresh mozzarella between the toasted bread- the mid afternoon snack hit the spot.  We couldn't resist the straciatella gelato down the block either. Gelato shops are like pasty shops in Paris. Every corner brings a new one and every new one looks more amazing than the last.

We've made it back to our B&B and once again, just as in Paris, Rosemarie has fallen asleep. I'm right behind her, actually. It's taken me far too long to get all this down. I'll nap and then head out to dinner - there's a few places we passed on our walk that all looked insanely good.

Willkommen

We have arrived in Frankfurt - and let me tell you...there is nothing like a true German Chocolate Chocolate Chip Muffin to start your European morning. Rosemarie and I are sitting at a lovely little airport cafe after a wonderful flight. She even slept - yes, that's right - my mother actually slept on the plane. Perhaps it was the movie, The Lincoln Lawyer that did it, but I'll take it any way I can get it. No bumps or crying babies for the entire flight and we arrived on time. We have two and one half hours until our connecting flight so we are enjoying a cappuccino and a cafe and this muffin. When we got to the center of it, there was a chocolaty gooey surprise. The cocoa nectar oozed out of the decadent treat and into our mouths within seconds.

The fun part is watching the parade of travelers like the crazy American who bought two bottles of beer at  8 a.m. and tried to pay with a $100 U.S. bill. And for the record, European men are not a bad thing to look at this early in the morning.

It Has Begun

The day has arrived. My mom and I are at the airport - but if you thought there would have been no fun beforehand, you'd be mistaken.

My parents are captivated by the murder trial of Casey Anthony.

"Don't be crying those tears, girl," I heard my mother say from the kitchen. "No more of your lies. You're going to get it." Then she asked me, "I won't know the verdict."

"Ah, I have a computer?"

And then we packed up the rest of our stuff and headed to the car, but not before I took one last look at what she was bringing.

"What -what is this?" I asked incredulously as I saw her wallet stuffed full of U.S. Dollars, pictures, Stop & Shop card and the like.

And just like that, as if she were a five year old who was caught with the remants of cotton candy all over her lips and denying she ate anything all day, my mother relinquished her attempt at smuggling something unapproved.

"I didn't think you'd catch me," she said quietly.

I took out the wads of currency, wondering where she thought she was going to spend all the money between here and Frankfurt. I did, however, allow her to keep the picture of her maternal grandmother. I recently found out that she carries it everywhere she goes, as it is the only link to a family she doesn't know.

She kissed my father good-bye and I heard a soft mumble of I love you, too from him before we took off for one last relative visit to my cousin Sandra's. Some coffee and conversation later, we were headed to Logan Airport, where once again, babies are in love with me. On the shuttle bus to the terminal, two little girls sat opposite us and waved continually at me.

Now, we're in the international terminal where it is so much more civilized than flying domestic. Security was a breeze, no full body scans in sight. Unfortunatly, the Lufthansa lounge is closed and the share with Air France will only allow first class passengers in it. I can't even bribe my way in. But we are sitting in a quiet (sans babies) food area where Rosemarie is wandering around with her U.S. currency.

It is 3,671 miles to Frankfurt.  I'm determined to have her sleep for at least 3,000 of them.