Italia Tre

I woke late the next morning. The room and bed at the Ville sull'Arno was so comfortable I lost track of time. Leslie was up and gently shook my shoulder.

"Look out the window, dear."

I drew back the gauzy curtains and was immediately struck by the beautiful reflections of the trees on the Arno River. My namesake bird perched on the opposite bank.

We leisurely got dressed and then made our way to the dining room and to an incredible breakfast.

When I tell you they pull out all the stops on the buffet you will have to believe me.

All manners of pastries, eggs, salumis, fruit, fresh honeycomb and jams. Extraordinarily good.

We sat next to a bunch of brits of Indian extraction and talked curries. Nice people, down to earth.

We took the free shuttle into town and prepared for our morning appointment at the Uffizi Gallery, which I had made a month in advance. The square was a crazy bustle.

When they tell you to be in line at 11:15 to 11:30 they mean it. If you are a minute out of schedule you are sent to the back of a line.

I believe that I counted three long queues and a near interminable wait. We met a lovely mother and son, Doris and Luka, from Australia and had a delightful conversation with them while in line.

The Uffizi is huge and it is overkill. There is no time to see every jewel in the Medici's museum but we did our very best.

What is amazing is that there are these long lines for three artists, Botticelli, Leonardo and Michelangelo but humans, being such an ignorant lot, walk right by works that are equal or maybe even better.

But we bipeds have to be told what is good and we lionize and celebretize our favorites and so you get a twenty minute wait for the Birth of Venus while a remarkable Durer in the next room barely gets a look. Ba-a-a-a.

It is not just paintings and sculpture that are remarkable. The ceilings ain't bad, either.

Alessandro Botticelli - Adorazione dei Magi

Perhaps the painting that stuck the strongest chord for me this visit was the Rubens, which stands with the best work of his that I saw at the Prado.

Gorgeous light and movement. My friend Gary told me that Rubens liked to put a round element in the dead center of his paintings and you clearly see it here with the man's head.

Giovanni Canaletto - View of the Ducal Palace in Venice

My advice would be to not focus on the rock stars because there is so much more to see and love. Every human being is capable of great work and inspiration. These paintings represent a time of artistic skill and flourishing that I would guess will never be equalled again.

Michelangelo Buonarroti - Doni Tonti

And of course that Michelangelo fellow is pretty damn good too.

Giovanni Larciani - Allegory of Fortune

We had a personal mishap at the Uffizi. I wanted to get a quick look at the Caravaggio and said I would be back in front of room 45 in 10 minutes.

Leslie never heard me and we spent the next two hours looking for each other, both sneaking in the building a second time to look for each other.

It freaked us both out but I eventually found her on the stairs to the exit. Neither of us enjoyed the Uffizi experience as much as we could of and now we have a good reason to come back and try again. A remarkable place.

Caravaggio - Testa di Medusa

We needed to catch a train to Bologna and headed back to the plaza where we would take a shuttle back to get our things from our hotel.

Hard to leave Florence. Now I know why some people stay weeks or months at a time and never leave.

The train to Bologna was quick and uneventful. We got into a conversation about food with a man whose girlfriend was a native and he suggested we eat at a place called Buca Manzoni.

We took a cab to the trattoria but it would not open for over an hour so we went to a wine bar, had a drink and relaxed. Played cards.

A very interesting town, but a city we had no time to penetrate since our flight was leaving the next mid day.

The restaurant was fantastic but I must admit to losing face. I ordered five or six things and said just feed us like a Bolognese and keep it coming.

Plates and heaps of food did just that, just kept coming. Stracchino, a creamy cheese with square pillows of dough like sopapilla. Two kinds of tortellini, Bologna's specialty, cured meats, cheese, antipasti, salad.

So much! Honestly I have not felt this full since the twenty courser at the French Laundry. Make it stop Mommy... Leslie wanted to put an end to it and cancel the veal cutlet but I would rather keel over than lose face and I refused. 

They sensed our plight and cancelled it themselves. The waitress looked at me with a touch of scorn and said, "You can't eat like a Bolognese."

Ouch. The shame.

The Aemelia Hotel was modern and great. We lucked out on every hotel of the trip, all wonderful. Another great breakfast the next morning, talked to a lovely Spanish couple from Madrid, feasted on three types of cornetti, chocolate, cream filled and straight, eggs with red yolks, the great Italian bacon that I will yearn for in the years ahead until we can make our return.

Flew over Milan and Lugano. Switzerland. The alps look pretty good too.

Hmmm.

Thank you Italy. You were better than I ever could have imagined. Thank you Francesca and Jacobo, Antonella and all the good people of the Mercanteinfiera. Graci.

Ciao!

Firenze shuffle

We finished our spa session at the lovely Ville sull'Arno and went upstairs and visited the outdoor pool. A brutish looking couple lay on the chase lounges across from us, my guess is that they were Eastern European. He was barrel chested and smoking nasty cigars, she was slightly overripe and had a rather vicious smile which quickly morphed into a glance of sneering upper class contempt.

We ignored them, ordered vodka and blood orange juice, got vodka and orange juice. No big. Our drinks were accompanied by nice large bowls of cerignola olives and nuts. So pleasant to chill, away from the noise and chatter of the bustling city and allow ourselves to be pampered, if only for a day.

Dark clouds were rolling in from the north and we thought that rain would soon follow, our picnic was officially over, retiring back to our rooms as a matter of prudent caution.

The plan was to meet our friends Alyssa and David at a nice restaurant that evening.

We took a shuttle into town and walked around a bit, finally making our way to the jewelry shops on the Ponte Vecchio, where they were finishing up some business transactions with a local jeweler of note, Giovanni Melli.

He had an opal necklace that I was crazy for but that is another story, still unfinished.

Giovanni not only had beautiful material, the view from his shop window might just be the best in the world.

As is usually the case with Jews and Italians, who have always been pretty much culturally joined at the hip, the conversation soon came around to food.

He told us that we had to try the place around the corner, Cammillo. Best in show.

We wandered our way through the Otrarno and found the place on the end of the next block.

The staff was all sitting around eating dinner. They were absolutely booked but would seat us in the attic if we were so inclined. We were.

Dinner was still an hour away so we wandered about the block.

Florence is such a delight, we found a very special mask shop and beautiful clothing stores, shops for fine leather goods, even a chocolate shop that poured the luscious stuff straight out of a tap.

Glorious statues abound, a wonderful place to share with someone you love.

And a fantastic walking city, we certainly covered a lot of ground.

We made our way to Cammillo Trattoria at the appointed hour. The staff and matriarch were kind and helpful. An extensive menu, we started with appetizers of goose foie gras and a burrata anchovy pairing and considered our choices for the meal.

My pasta course was the fresh tagliatelle with pigeon sauce. My entree was char broiled lamb and rosemary. Hadn't eaten lamb all trip and I was due.

Leslie had a pasta dish with white truffle. Alyssa had a deep fried lamb and not quite sure what David ate. All very delicious. They drank champagne, I drank water.

Place was superb, as advertised. We finished the meal with a fresh grape tart.

The Italians do so many things so well in the kitchen. One area where they seem to fall short is bread.

It is not France, nor even San Francisco. Bread is an afterthought in Italy. The dinner rolls are really pretty tasteless and pathetic. No crust.

My friend Ken told me about a co-pilot of his who took umbrage because the country doesn't believe in bread plates (or butter for that matter), you put your bread on the table.

But heck, you can't be good at everything and they have pasta down in spades so we will give them a break. I pretty much ate everything on my food bucket list for Italy except a tripe sandwich. Next time. Oh and by the way, pigeon is quite good.

We walked to the Pitti Palace after the meal and then way back to near the Academie to our friends' hotel. A nice stroll on a cool autumn night.

My friends were happy and high from the meal and the alcohol. I was not drinking and dry to their wet, sort of an asshole to be honest, but tried my best to be civil, needed my own space at that moment. Oh well. You know how I get...

And what better place to engage in a little indulgent self pity than the Pitti Palace? A Pitti pity party?

My friend Tracy told me yesterday that she would have picked Venice as would Mike. She is a violinist and said that she understands our decision as I am visually oriented but Venice is about music. I hope to visit one day and compare.

There is certainly a tremendous amount of art in Florence, the epicenter of the renaissance. Some tire of it. I only regret not having more time and not seeing more.

I really wasn't feeling very well and there were no cabs around. The man at our friend's hotel called us a cab.

What happened next was amazing, like a winged fantasy from Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, the Merry Pranksters or Mary Poppins.

A psychedelic cab appeared instantly from the clouds, Milano 25, full of toys and stuffed animals.

Bellandi photo

We got the whole story. After losing her husband to cancer fifteen years ago, the magical cab driver started a free ferry service for children with cancer. As a cancer survivor, I was touched by her story. One of the greatest cab rides in my life, simply a beautiful person. Changed my bad attitude in a jumping jackflash.


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