Florence - gelato, Icche C'e C'e, art galleries, and cheap umbrellas

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The saga continues...

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From Paris, we flew to Florence. We grabbed another chausson aux pommes at Brioche Doree and then jumped on the Roissybus (a shuttle that takes people from the Opera to Charles de Gaulle airport for about 9 Euros). And then we sat there. For about 20 minutes. When the bus finally took off we felt relieved, but that didn't stop us from nervously checking the time every 45 seconds. We got to the airport about 50 minutes before our flight, which is pushing it at a big airport like CDG, but doesn't yet cross into the realm of oh-no-we're-not-going-to-make-it-AACK! After crawling around the airport for what seemed like centuries, I happened to glance up to the terminal map inside the bus. We had to catch our flight in terminal 2G and this map only had A-F... what? It's fortunate that I speak French (kind of) or we would have been screwed; the (monolingual) shuttle driver told me that we needed to get off at terminal B and catch another shuttle to Terminal G, which is located, apparently, somewhere in Pennsylvania. At least it felt like it was. By the time we got there we had about 25 minutes until take off. We sprinted from the shuttle stop into the terminal (which thank god is small and easy-ish to navigate) with our rolling bags bumping along behind us, and while my mom scurried off to check her luggage, I dashed over to the nearest flight monitor. And, in true CDG fashion, our flight was delayed. So by the time we got through security, we still had to sit and wait for about 45 minutes. Sigh.

After a short, highly turbulent, stomach-rolling flight (the sketchy smoked salmon sandwiches they served did not help), we landed in Florence. We managed to find a shuttle into town, and as we sat there, waiting for the shuttle to pull away, I looked out the foggy, rain-streaked window and was completely floored by what I saw. It was an Italian flag, waving gently in the cool, drizzly air, as if it claimed to be some kind of run-of-the-mill, everyday piece of landscape. An Italian flag. I'm looking right at a real, live, flapping, Italian flag. In Italy. I'm in Italy. Whoa.

As the shuttle, er, shuttled us into downtown Florence, I watched the stores and signs pass by outside and it hit me: I speak zero Italian. Nothing. Turns out I didn't even know the right way to say "grazie" (it's GRAH-tsee-ay, not just GRAH-tsee). I asked my mom for her Italian phrasebook and flipped through the pages until I felt sick from looking down in a moving bus. Oh no. I don't even know how to be polite to a waiter here! I don't know how to order a glass of water! I don't even know how to say "please"! A sudden feeling of helplessness rolled over me as I imagined what visiting Bordeaux sans le Francais would be like. Fortunately, in the end it wasn't a problem at all; Florence is so touristy most people seem to speak some English, and for the most part people seem to be pretty nice to two women travelers who are clearly (if awkwardly) attempting to polite and culturally aware.

We got off of the shuttle at the train station and found a map at a tourist office nearby. We and our bags clattered down the cobbled and bustling streets until we found our hotel, tucked away on a tiny street near the Duomo. The lady at the tourist office had made a face when we told her its name, so we were a little uneasy. To our great relief our worries were without foundation; the place was great. Our room was charming and warmly decorated, and our bathroom was actually kind of big. The only downside was that it sort of smelled like burnt pizza in there. Oh well, could definitely be worse.

Our next plan of action was obvious. We've arrived in Florence. We've located our hotel. Next up is the extremely important Operation Consume Mass Quantities of Gelato (OCMQOG). And this was not a difficult mission to carry out. Gelato shops in Florence are as common as bakeries in France, meaning each block has at least two. But there's good gelato and less good gelato. Occasionally, you might even encounter bad gelato (*cough* Rome), but it's unlikely. The best gelato we found was this amazing pear gelato at an organic gelato shop (recommended by Rick Steves) right outside our hotel. MMmmm.

After OCMQOG was momentarily dealt with, we needed to find dinner. Rick Steves helped us with that too. If you don't already know, Rick Steves is the author of a series of travel guides and other books about travel in Europe (the Europe 101 book I recommended in my last entry is also his) which seem to be incredibly popular. We saw that familiar teal-green cover in the hands of many-a-tourist throughout our entire Italian excursion, and we used our own copy pretty much non-stop. Rick had a number of recommendations on the pricey side, but, as you may know, we are not a fan of the pricey side. He did have one that seemed perfect, though: Icche C'e C'e (EEKay chay chay), which he describes as "a small family-style eatery where fun-loving Gino and his wife Mara serve quality, traditional food." Sign me up!

It took us a while to find; it was tucked away on a tiny, narrow, poorly-lit cobbled street that wasn't even on the map given to us by tourist office. We peered around the corner into the tiny back alley, lit only by the vertical neon yellow "Trattoria" sign, glowing quietly, unassumingly in the damp night air, and felt a bit wary. We approached cautiously; all seemed rather quiet, but we opened the low wooden-framed door anyway. We stepped inside and were greeted warmly ("Buona serra!") by a small group of friendly Italians, all seated in the back of the restaurant in the middle of a lively, laughter-filled conversation. The place was very charming; red and white table cloths, pretty, colorful, glass lamps, wood paneling, and a warm glow throughout. A smiling, middle-aged man stood up and welcoming us, asked if he could help us. We said, well, we'd like a table for two. "Ah, yes-a. Sorry, but we do not-a open for another 30 minutes, but-a welcome!" I seriously think they would have let us hang out there for a half hour, chatting with them in their toasty warm little restaurant. We felt immediately that we'd picked the right place. And 30 minutes was just enough time to get another gelato.

Thirty minutes later we found ourselves sitting at a table near the window, perusing a menu full of several enticing options. I settled on squash ravioli with an amazing sage butter sauce. Mm. My mom had what would be the first of many plates of linguine with clams. It was spicy and flavorful and she was quite pleased. We also had a bottle of house white wine (which was quite good and somehow ended up costing only like 6 Euros or something). The service was incredible; I felt like the owners and server (who seemed to be family) actually cared about our experience; they chatted with us in English and encouraged our rather lame attempts at trying say things in Italian. After a bit, a couple came in and sat at the table next to us (teal green paperback in-hand) speaking American English. We chatted with them for a bit, and they told us about their other Rick Steves-inspired excursions in Italy. We finished our meal with a delicious creamy, custardy, fruity, amazing panna cotta and were quite content. And then they offered us a free taste of limoncello! I declined, having already consumed half a bottle of wine, but still, offer appreciated. We decided right then and there that we'd be returning for round two the following night.

And we did. And they remembered us! We walked in and the smiling server said, "Oh! You're back! Would you like the same table?" gesturing to our place by the window. Why yes, we would indeed. While we were pouring over our menus, she brought us an appetizer, on the house! It was bruschetta and it was incredible. MMM. I ended up ordering something beefy tomato-y warm and filling and my mom had the same rich, creamy sweet ravioli I'd eaten the night before. So good. We went for the half bottle of house white this time, in order to save room for the limoncello. Amazing. I totally recommend it. GO.

Also, this second night, there was a young American guy sitting at a table by himself. The Icche C'e C'e family kept bringing him plates piled with food and bottle after bottle of wine, and he chatted with them as if he knew then. After eavesdropping for two hours, my mom and I gathered that he was from a travel guide company, maybe even Rick Steves! He mentioned something about "the new book" coming out in November. How exciting! He asked some of the patrons what they thought of their meals and where they were from. Now I really wished I'd asked!

We tried to go back our last night in Florence, but alas, turns out they're closed on Mondays. Very sad.

So now that we've covered food, let's move on to art! The most famous artsy thing to see by far is Michelangelo's David. The David. The one that's parodied everywhere. Unlike the Mona Lisa, it is every bit as impressive as one would expect, perhaps even more so. It stands tall and solid, balanced and thoughtful, illuminated by a skylight, taking the center focal point of the Academia gallery. I am very sad that pictures were not allowed. I stared at that thing for probably 20 minutes. Every detail is perfect. Every muscle, every vein, even his toes are exactly right. He is truly perfect. The one (very much on purpose) change Michelangelo made was the exaggerated size of David's right hand. It's not overly noticeable at first, but take a look, next time you see a photo (or if you yourself get a chance to enter the Academia). It's representative of David's extraordinary strength. The subtle, natural grain in the white marble David is carved from is perfect as well; it ads just the right texture to make him seem that much more real. I really could have stood there for days. Michelangelo always said that he never carved figures from stone, he simply freed the person trapped inside. That is truly the only explanation for this marvel of sculpture. It is truly uncanny. See it. It's well worth the 10 Euros.

Aside from David, the Academia also houses Michelangelo's Prisoners; men partially "freed" from blocks of marble, but not completely. Their bodies twist and struggle as if trying to escape from the famous Florentine's unfinished works. Very powerful. Also worth seeing. The Academia has some other stuff too, but these are the most important, in my book.

The second half of our day was spent at the Uffizi gallery. It is absolutely filled with important Italian Renaissance art that, if you read Europe 101, would absolutely dazzle you. Think Raphael, Leonardo, Botticelli, Caravaggio, Rubens, Titian, Michelangelo, and Giotto. Step 1: Read. Step 2: Go. Maybe there should be a Step 1.5: Come Across a Large Sum of Money. But you get the point.

Florence is famous for leather, so there is leather everywhere. Shops, stands, roadside blankets; all packed to the gills with luxurious (and insanely expensive) Italian leather. I bought some gloves. I love them. If I ever lose them I'll probably have to kill myself. No, but seriously; totally worth it.

It would take far too long to list everything we saw here in this blog entry, but there is one more thing I'd like to highlight. Near the Uffizi gallery one frequently finds top quality street performers. Yes, during the day you have your typical Guy-Painted-Gold-Doing-the-Robot, but nighttime is a different story. The first night we went it was just one lone violinist, standing there in the dark, dwarfed by the huge arches supporting the gallery and by it's massive stone statues of notable Italians. His sweet, mournful song spilled out of his instrument and swirled up among the columns. It was magical. We stood there in the courtyard with many of the world's greatest men gazing serenely down on us, our heads and hearts filled with the emotion is his song. I left him a couple Euros. The next night it was a young American singing Paul Simon covers. It made my mom feel all nostalgic, so she left him a couple Euros too. This time there was a whole crowd of people sitting on steps and singing softly along with half-closed eyes.

Other highlights we experienced were the Ponte Vecchio, the Duomo (see pics), and some spurts of really unfortunate weather. We spent a decent chunk of money buying really badly-made 3 Euro umbrellas that broke every 20 minutes or so. But in spite of that, we had an amazing time. Next stop, ROME!

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So, it appears my Toussaint tale is taking forever to tell; I've been back for over a month and a half. My apologies! I hope you are still reading and enjoying. I really appreciate all of you taking the time to stay updated on my life here. And I really enjoy your comments/messages! I'm heading back to Northern California (just for the holidays) in a mere 4 days, so I will see some of you very soon.

Gros bisous!

-Lisa

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Photos

The Duomo and church
That dome in the back is what makes this church such a big deal. It marks the beginning of renaissance thinking: they built the church not having any idea how they would be able to create such a big dome, but they were so optimistic they just left a big round hole, assuming someone would eventually figure it out. Sure enough, Brunelleschi did. He used the Pantheon as a model.