Like 7 Miles
We hit the ground running on our first day in Riomaggiore. Almost literally, but not quite. We did sleep in a bit, though the timing of our day worked out perfectly. It began with a long way down to Via Columbo, and a trip to the tiny Co-op a few steps up the way. Out in front they had displayed all manner of fruits and vegetables, of which we grabbed some apples and pears. Inside the tiny store was packed an amazing amount of food and goods. At the front was a small deli, where we ordered our usual salami with cheese on a roll. We also grabbed some granola bars, corn chips, and off-brand cookies. Then we faced the day ahead.
The twenty minute walk back to Manarola was busy, but bright and breathtaking. It was when we got into Manarola that we realized just how many people had our same idea. We made a quick trip through the tunnel to the main street, but once we had a glance, we decided to backtrack to the train station and continue on to Corniglia, as the walking route between the two towns was closed. The tickets were easy to come by and cheap, but as we waited on the platform, more and more people began to trickle in, and eventually entire tour groups were standing with us waiting. We must have waited at least a half hour, and there were so many people trying to fit on the train that we wished we had just taken the alternate walking route. However, it seemed rather silly when the train ride lasted less than five minutes, and we began a rather hot trek up the snaking road from the train station to Corniglia. Unlike the other towns of the Cinque Terre, Corniglia sits atop a soaring cliffside rather than at the tide. It is a very quaint, old place, small and close-knit. Memories of hazelnut gelato with my mom came back to me. We climbed to the panorama to see Manarola and the coastline, and on the way back said hello to a very sleepy kitty beside the stairs who looked exactly like my Ziggy. It was like petting him again. We ate our lunch on someone's doorstep, then set out on our long trek to Vernazza. My memory served me well, and we headed up the road, then down into a shady gully with a stream and a bamboo thicket alongside. We hiked 4 kilometers up stairs, through olive orchards, at the base of soaring green mountains, along mile-high cliffs with commanding ocean views, down into shaded woods, and up and down again. Occasionally we would look back at Corniglia and Manarola, far in the distance, in amazement at how far we'd come. The breeze alleviated the heat somewhat, though I will say in all honesty that I can't recall sweating so much in my life.
We made the slow descent into Vernazza. It is a truly gorgeous, unique place. The first you see is the ancient tower used to scout for pirates back in the day, then the part of the town below the tower which juts into the ocean, and eventually the bulk of the town, which much like Riomaggiore, is nestled between two steep green hills, cluttered with buildings of all shapes and sizes. The hills which rise steeply above the town are striped with the horizontal lines of the vineyards for which the Cinque Terre is so famous. Upon descending into town, we immediately saw a Siamese cat lounging on the path, whom was friendly and soft. Our first contact with the town was in its quieter section, above the train station, where a small deep creek bisects the village. I had an objective in mind, and soon it came into view. Il Pirata caffe was a frequent stop for my mom and I three years ago, and a source of many fond memories. We were greeted by Massimo, the biggest character of the two twin Sicilian brothers who own the caffe. He is very Italian, and hilarious. He immediately handed me a menu and pointed to my favorite: Panna cotta with mixed fruit. He says: 'Here, you must try this, is the dessert of your dreams.' I smiled and nodded, as this was what I was there for.
It was cool outside, so we grabbed a table for two, and soon were presented with the panna cotta I had been waiting for. Absolutely smothered in fruit, whipped cream, powdered sugar/chocolate, and raspberry sauce. And beautifully arranged to boot. We made unfortunately short work of it, but I wasn't done yet. We cooled off with our (iced!) Fantas, then soon were setting ourselves on their famous canoli with ricotta cheese. I aimed to order the same one my mom and I had tried, though I'm not sure if it was the same. Either way it tasted amazing. Once finished, Massimo treated us to a free iced cappuccino (bellisimo!) and asked us about our origins in his funny Italian way. He urged us to have dinner there, saying it would be 'the dinner of your dreams', though we told him we would not be staying in Vernazza for dinner. Knowing he had tried, he shrugged and said, 'Well when you are married you come back here and have dinner.' We laughed and agreed, thanked him, left the check and the tip, and went on our way.
Refreshed and happy, we took in the sights of Vernazza. Each town in the Cinque Terre has its beauty, but I will admit that Vernazza is probably the most unique. Every inch of it seems to be different from the last. It is a bit more touristy than Riomaggiore, though a local presence still exists strongly here. We roamed around the small marina, as the town is sloped though not nearly as severely as Riomaggiore. There was activity everywhere. People swimming, cliff diving, sitting, talking, dining, ferries coming in and out. I'd forgotten how busy it was here. We decided to climb to the tower, Castel Doria, to see the town from a different view. It was a pretty vertical climb, but the effort and €1.50 entrance fee was worth it. From the small tower one can not only see the extent of Vernazza and the jutting hills surrounding it, but the coast farther north, the next town of Monterosso, as well as the coast that we had just hiked, and the two towns south. The ocean glittered in the afternoon sun, bright blue and pure. A beautiful view I was glad to revisit.
Everything was as I remembered as we traveled up the center sloped street to the train station. Luckily for us, a train pulled into the station just as we did, so we hopped on board with only the tickets we had bought that morning and hoped no one would check us. Sure enough, we made it back to Riomaggiore without a hitch, retracing in 10 minutes a journey that had taken us the entire day on foot.
Despite the many steps back to the apartment, we were eager to wash the day off and start fresh for dinner. We ate at one of the places only steps from where our stairs end on via Columbo. It was a nice restaurant, though not so much so to keep us from going. I ordered stewed veal, and Erik a seafood soup, which both came out in steaming huge pot-like bowls. It was impossible to eat for at least ten minutes, though my soup was delicious when I could eat it. Erik, though, was faced with the challenge of shelling his meal, as all of the sea life were whole. We tried some more wine and decided it wasn't for us, though out of politeness, I finished it. As always, we ended our tiresome yet rewarding day with a relaxing and rewarding gelato, on the rocks of the jetty in the Riomaggiore marina, the sun turning the sea to gold.
Inspiration - Imagination - Innovation
Sunday, June 26, 2011
6/21
To Riomaggiore
Our day of travel out of Lucca was the most daunting, yet one of the smoothest we've had. We had the luxury of sleeping in (or attempting to), then packed once again and prepared to leave. After a final hearty breakfast ala Claudio, we left our big packs with him temporarily, as our train didnt leave for another few hours. We visited the ATM, then a gelateria for some early panna cotta and caffe. For close to an hour we watched the activity of piazza San Michele, a much busier day than previous. As we were anxious to get to the train station, we retrieved our bags and said arrivederci to Claudio and Jerry. Even the short walk through the town, under the wall and to the train station was difficult with our packs. As the self service stations in Lucca are fairly rudimentary, I decided to wait in line to personally order the ticket. I did get a ticket to Riomaggiore, but it had hardly any information about our trip. Luckily, I had looked at the train schedule that morning, and knew what our connections were. During our hour wait for our train, we noticed a crowd beginning to form, with yet another camera crew at its center. A tall man with dark curly hair and nondescript casual clothing seemed to be the center of attention, and we figured he was some kind of Italian celebrity director, though neither of us knew who he was. I guess we'll have to google it.
Our train finally came, almost a little late, but we soon were heading for Viareggio, our first leg of the trip. The ride was short, only about a half hour, then we made our connection for La Spezia, the longest portion. The entire ride was truly stunning. The countryside here is just beautiful, with mountainous peaks on all sides, carpeted in greenery and closely knit villages, some in valleys, some perched atop steep hillsides. The sunshine was only interrupted by the swirling clouds which engulfed the upper massive peaks of the Carrara mountains. We made it in to La Spezia sooner than we expected, and it was only a ride of minutes to Riomaggiore, as it is the southernmost of the Cinque Terre. After the darkness of the tunnel through the mountain, we were suddenly propelled into bright sunlight, the train stopped, and we stumbled out to a panorama of the glittering ocean. Without fail, the expanse of water always amazes me. We made a short trip underground to reach the main platform. On the huge natural stone wall above us was painted a beautiful mural honoring the heritage of Riomaggiore. Once again we headed underground through a smaller tunnel which runs along the main train tunnel, domed with a bright blue ceiling, its walls decorated with maritime mosaics, shells, rocks, and colorful paintings. Then we emerged into Riomaggiore proper. It was love at first sight. It is truly a beautiful little town. And in truth not that little. The main street, Via Columbo, makes a lazy arc where the canyon of two steep hills once converged, the slopes of these hills now ridged with the cheerful, almost humorously multicolored buildings of infinite height, width, and character. A veritable myriad of stairways, passages, and narrow lanes lead up almost vertically on both sides through the village as it ascends. I will say first off that Riomaggiore is a very bohemian place. Everyone is friendly and understanding. Two or three tiny grocery stores can be found along Columbo, and the many restaurants, pizzerias, and bars zigzag their way up the street, mixed among private residences and hotels. Everything has a very lived-in feeling, without being trashy in the least. We found the office of our 'hostel' with ease, a small room with vaulted brick ceiling and stringed beads on the door, a cluttered yet seemingly organized jumble of things, with a desk. Giacomo, our renter, is a personable, laid back guy in his 30s, a bald surfer, if likened to our culture. He spoke English very well and used his hands while talking more than any other Italian I'd seen. After some paperwork, we began the long hike up many, many stairs to the apartment, all the while hefting our packs. He also pointed out a faster way from Via Columbo (which we found later was still a good deal of stepping).
The supposed hostel is doing itself a disservice by the name. It is perfect. With two separate rooms, one with a single bed Erik used for storage, and the small bathroom, and the other room with the double bed. The kitchen utilities were across the hall but exclusive to us, with our key. And all those steps were worth the effort. As if the apartment could not be more ideal for our use, the view is absolutely perfect. An entire panorama of Riomaggiore, including the small harbor and ocean. Literally breathtaking. Both of our expectations were completely overwhelmed. Giacomo left us the keys and we settled in. Not long after, we set on the town. We explored the length of Via Columbo, quite a steep hike toward the end, but the shops waned, and we turned around. On the way we saw two kitties lounging and stopped for a pet and photos. We scanned the restaurants along the way, and decided on one farthest up the street, with a nice covered seating area and good menu. I ordered swordfish, and Erik had breaded veal with French fries. The most unique part of our meal was the end, as we ordered panna cotta with carmel, (delicious but about half too small), and sciacchetra with biscotti (a local dessert wine which my mom loved on our last trip). The wine was for old times sake, and didn't appeal to either of us, but it was worth a try. After we paid il conto, we descended Via Columbo to the marina. It's a very narrow harbor, but vertical, framed on either side by sheer cliffs, with a mishmash of structures rising from them. Below, the concrete ramp meets the tide, flanked by archways which house all manner of nets, buoys, and small fishing boats docked in a line. As you pass the marina and ascend more steps to the left, a path which opens to bars and gelaterias on the way, a view of Riomaggiore's small harbor and the coast of the Cinque Terre expand before you. The path continues around the stone cliffs which crumble into the ocean, hugging the mountain, until another tiny bay opens up, seeming to be cut directly into the mountainside. Here is the closest Riomaggiore comes to a beach, which is simply a surface of pebbles, boulders, and cliffs. Far above the beach stands the exterior of the train tunnel, with arched openings to give the travelers inside a taste of what is to come. This tiny beach seems to always be crowded. We stayed long enough to take in the views, then got gelato and enjoyed it on the return down the blue tunnel toward the train station, where the Via dell'Amore begins.
This flat walk follows the majestic cliffs between Riomaggiore and Manarola, with only a railing between you and a two hundred foot plunge to aquamarine waters below. The cliffsides are beautiful, covered in local vegetation, with colorful flowers and prickling cacti. The sun sank below the far range on the coast of Monte Rosso, the Northernmost town, painting the entire Cinque Terre in dusty orange. One could not ask for a more romantic welcome to such a beautiful place.
Our day of travel out of Lucca was the most daunting, yet one of the smoothest we've had. We had the luxury of sleeping in (or attempting to), then packed once again and prepared to leave. After a final hearty breakfast ala Claudio, we left our big packs with him temporarily, as our train didnt leave for another few hours. We visited the ATM, then a gelateria for some early panna cotta and caffe. For close to an hour we watched the activity of piazza San Michele, a much busier day than previous. As we were anxious to get to the train station, we retrieved our bags and said arrivederci to Claudio and Jerry. Even the short walk through the town, under the wall and to the train station was difficult with our packs. As the self service stations in Lucca are fairly rudimentary, I decided to wait in line to personally order the ticket. I did get a ticket to Riomaggiore, but it had hardly any information about our trip. Luckily, I had looked at the train schedule that morning, and knew what our connections were. During our hour wait for our train, we noticed a crowd beginning to form, with yet another camera crew at its center. A tall man with dark curly hair and nondescript casual clothing seemed to be the center of attention, and we figured he was some kind of Italian celebrity director, though neither of us knew who he was. I guess we'll have to google it.
Our train finally came, almost a little late, but we soon were heading for Viareggio, our first leg of the trip. The ride was short, only about a half hour, then we made our connection for La Spezia, the longest portion. The entire ride was truly stunning. The countryside here is just beautiful, with mountainous peaks on all sides, carpeted in greenery and closely knit villages, some in valleys, some perched atop steep hillsides. The sunshine was only interrupted by the swirling clouds which engulfed the upper massive peaks of the Carrara mountains. We made it in to La Spezia sooner than we expected, and it was only a ride of minutes to Riomaggiore, as it is the southernmost of the Cinque Terre. After the darkness of the tunnel through the mountain, we were suddenly propelled into bright sunlight, the train stopped, and we stumbled out to a panorama of the glittering ocean. Without fail, the expanse of water always amazes me. We made a short trip underground to reach the main platform. On the huge natural stone wall above us was painted a beautiful mural honoring the heritage of Riomaggiore. Once again we headed underground through a smaller tunnel which runs along the main train tunnel, domed with a bright blue ceiling, its walls decorated with maritime mosaics, shells, rocks, and colorful paintings. Then we emerged into Riomaggiore proper. It was love at first sight. It is truly a beautiful little town. And in truth not that little. The main street, Via Columbo, makes a lazy arc where the canyon of two steep hills once converged, the slopes of these hills now ridged with the cheerful, almost humorously multicolored buildings of infinite height, width, and character. A veritable myriad of stairways, passages, and narrow lanes lead up almost vertically on both sides through the village as it ascends. I will say first off that Riomaggiore is a very bohemian place. Everyone is friendly and understanding. Two or three tiny grocery stores can be found along Columbo, and the many restaurants, pizzerias, and bars zigzag their way up the street, mixed among private residences and hotels. Everything has a very lived-in feeling, without being trashy in the least. We found the office of our 'hostel' with ease, a small room with vaulted brick ceiling and stringed beads on the door, a cluttered yet seemingly organized jumble of things, with a desk. Giacomo, our renter, is a personable, laid back guy in his 30s, a bald surfer, if likened to our culture. He spoke English very well and used his hands while talking more than any other Italian I'd seen. After some paperwork, we began the long hike up many, many stairs to the apartment, all the while hefting our packs. He also pointed out a faster way from Via Columbo (which we found later was still a good deal of stepping).
The supposed hostel is doing itself a disservice by the name. It is perfect. With two separate rooms, one with a single bed Erik used for storage, and the small bathroom, and the other room with the double bed. The kitchen utilities were across the hall but exclusive to us, with our key. And all those steps were worth the effort. As if the apartment could not be more ideal for our use, the view is absolutely perfect. An entire panorama of Riomaggiore, including the small harbor and ocean. Literally breathtaking. Both of our expectations were completely overwhelmed. Giacomo left us the keys and we settled in. Not long after, we set on the town. We explored the length of Via Columbo, quite a steep hike toward the end, but the shops waned, and we turned around. On the way we saw two kitties lounging and stopped for a pet and photos. We scanned the restaurants along the way, and decided on one farthest up the street, with a nice covered seating area and good menu. I ordered swordfish, and Erik had breaded veal with French fries. The most unique part of our meal was the end, as we ordered panna cotta with carmel, (delicious but about half too small), and sciacchetra with biscotti (a local dessert wine which my mom loved on our last trip). The wine was for old times sake, and didn't appeal to either of us, but it was worth a try. After we paid il conto, we descended Via Columbo to the marina. It's a very narrow harbor, but vertical, framed on either side by sheer cliffs, with a mishmash of structures rising from them. Below, the concrete ramp meets the tide, flanked by archways which house all manner of nets, buoys, and small fishing boats docked in a line. As you pass the marina and ascend more steps to the left, a path which opens to bars and gelaterias on the way, a view of Riomaggiore's small harbor and the coast of the Cinque Terre expand before you. The path continues around the stone cliffs which crumble into the ocean, hugging the mountain, until another tiny bay opens up, seeming to be cut directly into the mountainside. Here is the closest Riomaggiore comes to a beach, which is simply a surface of pebbles, boulders, and cliffs. Far above the beach stands the exterior of the train tunnel, with arched openings to give the travelers inside a taste of what is to come. This tiny beach seems to always be crowded. We stayed long enough to take in the views, then got gelato and enjoyed it on the return down the blue tunnel toward the train station, where the Via dell'Amore begins.
This flat walk follows the majestic cliffs between Riomaggiore and Manarola, with only a railing between you and a two hundred foot plunge to aquamarine waters below. The cliffsides are beautiful, covered in local vegetation, with colorful flowers and prickling cacti. The sun sank below the far range on the coast of Monte Rosso, the Northernmost town, painting the entire Cinque Terre in dusty orange. One could not ask for a more romantic welcome to such a beautiful place.
6/19-6/20
Big change to a Small City
Though we slept in this morning to recover from our previous day of travel, we headed downstairs to sift through some antiques and found that breakfast was still up for grabs. Quite a nice spread had been set out by Claudio and his wife Claudia. Yes, Claudia. Oddly enough, she is Scottish, or something similar, which you can hear in her accent. In addition to the selection of cereal, bruschetta, sliced meats, croissants, and yogurt, they offered us tea and coffee, and fried eggs, which we kindly refused but enjoyed a hearty breakfast of the rest of the selection. Their black and white mild-mannered terrier, Jerry, lurked below the table hoping for scraps. Fueled for a day out in Lucca, we thanked our hosts and descended to street level in the tiny elevator. The antiques market was still going strong, and as we explored further into the surrounding area, we realized that it spread throughout much of the city. I spent time pursuing my Venice postcard, and Erik searched for an object to take home. We meandered through the lines of tents, the tables beneath each loaded with hundreds of unique items. We took our lunch on a shady bench on the edge of a piazza lined with huge birch trees, cafes, and stores. At one end there was even a carousel playing Disney songs in Italian. Thanks to our hosts, we paid for neither breakfast nor our lunch of apples, meats, and croissants.
After perusing the seemingly endless expanse of the antiques market, we decided to take a break from our hunt, and went to rent bikes, as the museums and churches we wanted to visit were closed. I can easily say that this was the most enjoyable activity in Lucca. The rentals were cheap, €2.50 per hour, and the bikes were smooth and easy to ride. The most unique characteristic of Lucca is its medieval outer walls, which are now beautifully maintained pedestrian/bike paths, lined with the same birch trees seen throughout the city. The breeze and dappled shade from the trees made the ride absolutely ideal and perfectly beautiful. A ride around the city on the walls takes less than 30 minutes, so we were on our second trip when I suggested we stop in town to grab some snacks. The downhill slope took us back to the piazza where we had eaten lunch. I stayed with the bikes while Erik scoured the section of the antiques market we hadn't seen yet, then he stayed with the bikes while I got some candied peanuts and candy from a vendor. After a final stop for reasonably priced gelato, we resumed our second round on the walls. On the back portion of the city is a gorgeous green open area beyond the wall, bordered by evergreen trees. We pulled in to one of the battlements which juts out from the wall, now made into a shady park, where we enjoyed the delicious peanuts and the view.
We returned the bikes with time to spare, and headed toward the center of town to find the icon of Lucca, their Chiesa San Michele. Essentially, we spent 15 minutes finding the piazza San Michele, which ended up being only a street down from our apartment. It is where much of the activity- if one could call it such- happens in Lucca.
For the remainder of the evening we resumed our hunt at the antiques market. We saw a great many interesting things, hundreds upon hundreds of items, though nothing really caught his eye. Just as we were ending our day and heading toward a recommended place for dinner, I glanced at one last vendor as the rest were closing up, and spotted a collection of keys in a box. At first glance, they looked like ordinary old keys, nothing remarkable, but as I dug deeper, I found not one, but three beautiful old keys. One was very ornamental, but the key itself was very short, so I decided on the one with the most gilded design. I am very happy that I found something to take home, though I wish Erik had been as fortunate. We enjoyed the hunt all the same.
Dinner was outside a small trattoria, where cars and trucks came within inches of me, though the osso bucco with mashed potatoes and raspberry panna cotta was worth it.
We got lost on our way to the circular piazza called the anfiteatro, though saw a side of the city we hadn't seen. Among the quiet streets, we felt more like locals than tourists.
Our second day in Lucca was essentially a replay of the previous day, though in the morning we climbed their tallest tower, Guinigi, which has a great panoramic view of the city. It was a beauifully clear day, and the entire valley and surrounding mountain ranges could be seen. Piano music wafted faintly up to us as we took in the view. We visited the other large church in Lucca, San Martino, which is completely white inside, dim, though lighted with many stained glass windows which cast amazing hues on the colorless marble. We passed up the cathedral museum and instead rented another round of bikes, returned to the apartment for a nap, then set out to find dinner. We spent a good hour and a half out in the streets scouting the list of recommendations Claudio had made, though only one stood out to us, a place right off of Piazza San Michele called Trattoria de Leo. It was a crowded little restaurant, though we arrived shortly after it opened at 7:30, but the roast chicken and potatoes were prepared in minutes, and delicious. We ended our last night in Lucca with flute music behind us, and large gelatos in our hands. How else?
Though we slept in this morning to recover from our previous day of travel, we headed downstairs to sift through some antiques and found that breakfast was still up for grabs. Quite a nice spread had been set out by Claudio and his wife Claudia. Yes, Claudia. Oddly enough, she is Scottish, or something similar, which you can hear in her accent. In addition to the selection of cereal, bruschetta, sliced meats, croissants, and yogurt, they offered us tea and coffee, and fried eggs, which we kindly refused but enjoyed a hearty breakfast of the rest of the selection. Their black and white mild-mannered terrier, Jerry, lurked below the table hoping for scraps. Fueled for a day out in Lucca, we thanked our hosts and descended to street level in the tiny elevator. The antiques market was still going strong, and as we explored further into the surrounding area, we realized that it spread throughout much of the city. I spent time pursuing my Venice postcard, and Erik searched for an object to take home. We meandered through the lines of tents, the tables beneath each loaded with hundreds of unique items. We took our lunch on a shady bench on the edge of a piazza lined with huge birch trees, cafes, and stores. At one end there was even a carousel playing Disney songs in Italian. Thanks to our hosts, we paid for neither breakfast nor our lunch of apples, meats, and croissants.
After perusing the seemingly endless expanse of the antiques market, we decided to take a break from our hunt, and went to rent bikes, as the museums and churches we wanted to visit were closed. I can easily say that this was the most enjoyable activity in Lucca. The rentals were cheap, €2.50 per hour, and the bikes were smooth and easy to ride. The most unique characteristic of Lucca is its medieval outer walls, which are now beautifully maintained pedestrian/bike paths, lined with the same birch trees seen throughout the city. The breeze and dappled shade from the trees made the ride absolutely ideal and perfectly beautiful. A ride around the city on the walls takes less than 30 minutes, so we were on our second trip when I suggested we stop in town to grab some snacks. The downhill slope took us back to the piazza where we had eaten lunch. I stayed with the bikes while Erik scoured the section of the antiques market we hadn't seen yet, then he stayed with the bikes while I got some candied peanuts and candy from a vendor. After a final stop for reasonably priced gelato, we resumed our second round on the walls. On the back portion of the city is a gorgeous green open area beyond the wall, bordered by evergreen trees. We pulled in to one of the battlements which juts out from the wall, now made into a shady park, where we enjoyed the delicious peanuts and the view.
We returned the bikes with time to spare, and headed toward the center of town to find the icon of Lucca, their Chiesa San Michele. Essentially, we spent 15 minutes finding the piazza San Michele, which ended up being only a street down from our apartment. It is where much of the activity- if one could call it such- happens in Lucca.
For the remainder of the evening we resumed our hunt at the antiques market. We saw a great many interesting things, hundreds upon hundreds of items, though nothing really caught his eye. Just as we were ending our day and heading toward a recommended place for dinner, I glanced at one last vendor as the rest were closing up, and spotted a collection of keys in a box. At first glance, they looked like ordinary old keys, nothing remarkable, but as I dug deeper, I found not one, but three beautiful old keys. One was very ornamental, but the key itself was very short, so I decided on the one with the most gilded design. I am very happy that I found something to take home, though I wish Erik had been as fortunate. We enjoyed the hunt all the same.
Dinner was outside a small trattoria, where cars and trucks came within inches of me, though the osso bucco with mashed potatoes and raspberry panna cotta was worth it.
We got lost on our way to the circular piazza called the anfiteatro, though saw a side of the city we hadn't seen. Among the quiet streets, we felt more like locals than tourists.
Our second day in Lucca was essentially a replay of the previous day, though in the morning we climbed their tallest tower, Guinigi, which has a great panoramic view of the city. It was a beauifully clear day, and the entire valley and surrounding mountain ranges could be seen. Piano music wafted faintly up to us as we took in the view. We visited the other large church in Lucca, San Martino, which is completely white inside, dim, though lighted with many stained glass windows which cast amazing hues on the colorless marble. We passed up the cathedral museum and instead rented another round of bikes, returned to the apartment for a nap, then set out to find dinner. We spent a good hour and a half out in the streets scouting the list of recommendations Claudio had made, though only one stood out to us, a place right off of Piazza San Michele called Trattoria de Leo. It was a crowded little restaurant, though we arrived shortly after it opened at 7:30, but the roast chicken and potatoes were prepared in minutes, and delicious. We ended our last night in Lucca with flute music behind us, and large gelatos in our hands. How else?
6/18
To Lucca
Today was our smoothest travel day yet. We got ready, packed, and cleaned the apartment as we had done twice before. I missed Florence even before we had stepped out our door. Passing the duomo for the last time was a difficult thing to do, and we stole a couple final glances over our shoulders as we headed northwest toward the train station. Our packs were heavy but manageable, and the heat was much more bearable than yesterday. Straight to a self service station we went after entering the noisy station, knowing the drill by now. The first machine we tried did not accept cash, and the second required almost exact change, but eventually we had a ticket and were prepared to decipher which platform our train would arrive on. I checked one of the stationary boards nearby and found that platform 5 was the one we needed, heading to Viareggio, Lucca being the second to last stop. The train wouldn't depart for almost another hour, so we hunkered down against a wall near track 5 and ate our lunch of salami and rice cakes. Around a quarter to 1:00, the train still hadn't come in to the station, so we double checked the live display boards and found that the platform had changed to track 8. It was already in position, so we verified our ticket and boarded the train. The cargo shelves overhead were too small for our bags, and anybody else's, so we had to set them on the seats across the aisle. Thankfully the train was fairly empty so we didn't feel bad taking up extra seats. We offered the floor space below our bags to some American women who were struggling to find space for their luggage.
The train ride lasted less than an hour and a half. I caught up only a bit on my journals before the train slowed into Lucca's station. We hopped off, descended below the tracks and back up to street level, then attempted to get our bearings with the map. Eventually we simply decided to use our intuitions, which were much more helpful than the Google map directions we had printed. As we walked further, we soon realized that we were currently outside the city walls, which, preceded by a green, manicured lawn, rose up rustically before us. We followed a gravel path around a bend in the wall, and were faced with another wall. As we continued, we discovered a tiny door in the brickwork which was in fact the opening to a tunnel which spiraled lazily back toward the city. Another doorway and a short stairwell later, we stood atop the Lucca city wall, which was lined with sturdy birch trees, split in two by a bike path. Even our first impressions of Lucca were positive. Again we put away the map and let our previous research and instinct lead us to the apartment. It was no difficult task to find the antiques fair we had been anticipating, as it was spread out among the streets and small piazzas within a five-block square radius. With glances at items calling for closer inspection, we made our way between the white tents and ristorante tables to via Cenami. We had no trouble finding our apartment number, and pressing the button beside the door, were let inside. Past the dark entryway, we stood at the fork between a stairwell to our right and an open courtyard with an elevator to our left. Fortunately, a man was exiting the elevator just as we looked out, who motioned us in, and turned a key to send the elevator to the second floor. We stepped out onto a small entryway which opened into several rooms, and were greeted by Claudio, the manager. He spoke quite decent English and was rather friendly as he showed us two options of rooms we could take. We opted for an attic room, which is small but unique, with a low slanted ceiling which you have to watch out for while using the bathroom. He gave us a map with a list of local restaurant recommendations, and the wifi password, which was most helpful. Breakfast is also provided in the morning, and fruit and water are also complimentary.
After settling in a bit, we headed down to the street to tackle the antiques fair. The number of tents packed into such small spaces was amazing in itself, but the amount of items laid out beneath each tent was the most surprising and intriguing. We only sampled a portion of the fair, but the range of items we saw was great. From glass vases to war memorabilia.
Ultimately, we spent close to an hour sifting through hundreds of old post cards, searching for ones of our cities which suited our fancy. The older the better. In the end, we found great treasures from the 1920's - 40's of five cards, Rome, Siena, Florence, Lucca, and Paris. The oldest is marked at the year 1925. Each is not laminated, with the wear of time and the intrigue of some Italian citizen's scrolling inkwork on the back. All for €5. What a great find. I plan to frame them together when we return to the states.
As the vendors began to zip up their tents and cover their treasures in tarps, we followed Claudio's directions on the map to find a good place for dinner. The first place we tried didnt open for dinner until 7:00, and as it was 6:30, we tried the next place, called Gnam Gnam. It's a very interesting, modern place with excellent food. I ate something similar to my meal of last night, and Erik finally got his sufficient portion of lasagna. A very filling meal of high quality.
Dessert was a bit harder to find. I've been hankering for some panna cotta since I've only had it once in Rome, and it took us a couple circuits around the area to find a place that sold it. It was completely worth the wait. Possibly the best I've had. Though I still had the munchies evens after dinner and dessert, we strolled slowly back to our place on Al Tuscany, where I was finally able to update my blog. If our short day here is any sign, I am looking forward greatly to our time in Lucca.
Today was our smoothest travel day yet. We got ready, packed, and cleaned the apartment as we had done twice before. I missed Florence even before we had stepped out our door. Passing the duomo for the last time was a difficult thing to do, and we stole a couple final glances over our shoulders as we headed northwest toward the train station. Our packs were heavy but manageable, and the heat was much more bearable than yesterday. Straight to a self service station we went after entering the noisy station, knowing the drill by now. The first machine we tried did not accept cash, and the second required almost exact change, but eventually we had a ticket and were prepared to decipher which platform our train would arrive on. I checked one of the stationary boards nearby and found that platform 5 was the one we needed, heading to Viareggio, Lucca being the second to last stop. The train wouldn't depart for almost another hour, so we hunkered down against a wall near track 5 and ate our lunch of salami and rice cakes. Around a quarter to 1:00, the train still hadn't come in to the station, so we double checked the live display boards and found that the platform had changed to track 8. It was already in position, so we verified our ticket and boarded the train. The cargo shelves overhead were too small for our bags, and anybody else's, so we had to set them on the seats across the aisle. Thankfully the train was fairly empty so we didn't feel bad taking up extra seats. We offered the floor space below our bags to some American women who were struggling to find space for their luggage.
The train ride lasted less than an hour and a half. I caught up only a bit on my journals before the train slowed into Lucca's station. We hopped off, descended below the tracks and back up to street level, then attempted to get our bearings with the map. Eventually we simply decided to use our intuitions, which were much more helpful than the Google map directions we had printed. As we walked further, we soon realized that we were currently outside the city walls, which, preceded by a green, manicured lawn, rose up rustically before us. We followed a gravel path around a bend in the wall, and were faced with another wall. As we continued, we discovered a tiny door in the brickwork which was in fact the opening to a tunnel which spiraled lazily back toward the city. Another doorway and a short stairwell later, we stood atop the Lucca city wall, which was lined with sturdy birch trees, split in two by a bike path. Even our first impressions of Lucca were positive. Again we put away the map and let our previous research and instinct lead us to the apartment. It was no difficult task to find the antiques fair we had been anticipating, as it was spread out among the streets and small piazzas within a five-block square radius. With glances at items calling for closer inspection, we made our way between the white tents and ristorante tables to via Cenami. We had no trouble finding our apartment number, and pressing the button beside the door, were let inside. Past the dark entryway, we stood at the fork between a stairwell to our right and an open courtyard with an elevator to our left. Fortunately, a man was exiting the elevator just as we looked out, who motioned us in, and turned a key to send the elevator to the second floor. We stepped out onto a small entryway which opened into several rooms, and were greeted by Claudio, the manager. He spoke quite decent English and was rather friendly as he showed us two options of rooms we could take. We opted for an attic room, which is small but unique, with a low slanted ceiling which you have to watch out for while using the bathroom. He gave us a map with a list of local restaurant recommendations, and the wifi password, which was most helpful. Breakfast is also provided in the morning, and fruit and water are also complimentary.
After settling in a bit, we headed down to the street to tackle the antiques fair. The number of tents packed into such small spaces was amazing in itself, but the amount of items laid out beneath each tent was the most surprising and intriguing. We only sampled a portion of the fair, but the range of items we saw was great. From glass vases to war memorabilia.
Ultimately, we spent close to an hour sifting through hundreds of old post cards, searching for ones of our cities which suited our fancy. The older the better. In the end, we found great treasures from the 1920's - 40's of five cards, Rome, Siena, Florence, Lucca, and Paris. The oldest is marked at the year 1925. Each is not laminated, with the wear of time and the intrigue of some Italian citizen's scrolling inkwork on the back. All for €5. What a great find. I plan to frame them together when we return to the states.
As the vendors began to zip up their tents and cover their treasures in tarps, we followed Claudio's directions on the map to find a good place for dinner. The first place we tried didnt open for dinner until 7:00, and as it was 6:30, we tried the next place, called Gnam Gnam. It's a very interesting, modern place with excellent food. I ate something similar to my meal of last night, and Erik finally got his sufficient portion of lasagna. A very filling meal of high quality.
Dessert was a bit harder to find. I've been hankering for some panna cotta since I've only had it once in Rome, and it took us a couple circuits around the area to find a place that sold it. It was completely worth the wait. Possibly the best I've had. Though I still had the munchies evens after dinner and dessert, we strolled slowly back to our place on Al Tuscany, where I was finally able to update my blog. If our short day here is any sign, I am looking forward greatly to our time in Lucca.
6/17
Panoramic
Our final day in Florence was a long, tiring, and rewarding one.
It was hot today. Almost Rome hot. The sun was out most of the time, which was nice aesthetically but not for comfort. We took our usual route through Piazza Della Signoria, past the Uffizi, then west along the Arno to the Ponte Vecchio. This was the first contact we'd had to the famous bridge, and what we did have was short lived, as the alley between the endless jewelry shops was very crowded. Within fifteen minutes of stepping out our door, we reached the Pitti Palace. It's a very expansive and uniform structure, prefaced by a vast piazza which slopes down to the street. We originally mistakenly bought tickets for the Gardens behind the palace (Giardino Boboli) as well as the Palatino and Modern art galleries. The total for both tickets cost us €22 each, so we hurriedly returned the more expensive ticket with no problem. After breathing a sigh of relief, we proceeded into the main courtyard of the Palace, whose side rooms contain the exhibits included in the entrance fee for the Gardens. We viewed multiple rooms of treasures from ancient Russia, including gold and jewel-incrusted swords, reliquaries, and amazing ivory sculpture. We also viewed a 17th-century costume gallery which was hard to find and not really what either of us were expecting.
Thankfully, the gardens were enjoyable despite the heat. The hill above the Pitti Palace is carpeted with manicured lawns, terraces, groves of trees, and shaded pathways. We explored a portion of the gardens I had never seen before, a hilly area with once-paved paths, dappled with the sunlight and shadow of the arching foliage overhead. We returned to the main entrance of the gardens, a large semicircular amphitheater lined with sculptures, an obelisk and oversized marble bathtub in the center. Of the many resident cats that i remember from our last trip, only one was to be found near the gift shop, taking a snooze right in the middle of the gravel walkway. She enjoyed the stroke on the back and chin rub as much as i did. I miss kitties.
Up two flights of stone stairs is a terrace in which a murky fountain sits, full of fish and ducks. Another dogged trip up two more flights will grant you the top of the gardens, where a tall female sculpture stands, facing a nice view of the palace and a slice of Florence. We skirted the border of the garden, then descended again, past an old tea house, and to the best spot in the gardens for a panoramic view of Florence.
As the fates would have it, indeed I ran out of battery on my second photo of the panorama I intended to take. Cursing first the battery for inaccurately telling me its charge level (it said full charge that morning), and myself for not having charged my second battery, we assessed our options. Our plan was to head over to see Fort Belvedere, then head east to Piazzale Michelangelo. With this new development, our original plan was not possible, so we made the (literally) 15 minute return down the hill, through the Piazza Pitti, across the Ponte Vecchio, and to the apartment to charge my battery. This was a good opportunity to rest, though the fact remained that neither of us had eaten much of anything that day, aside from some yogurt and fruit that morning, and an apple during our exhibition tour in the Palace. Even so, we struck out again in an hour or so, around 3:30. We retraced our steps of the morning, recrossing the Ponte Vecchio, though altered our route by making a left on via Giorgio, an uphill path toward Fort Belvedere. This was a nice piece of deja vu for me, as my mom and I had made the same trek on the sloping street, only downhill instead of uphill in the overcast, humid heat. We stopped for a look at Galileo's house, then took a slight detour through the Bardini gardens, a surprisingly smaller yet more well-maintained version of the Boboli Gardens. Resuming our trek on via Giorgio, we found the fort, which was unfortunately closed, then headed left past it to follow the tiny road which runs parallel to the city wall. Erik was skeptical that this road would lead us to the Piazzale Michelangelo, but as I had researched this route beforehand, was confident of our path. Despite having to walk in the paved gutter most of the time due to occasional traffic on the one-lane road, the hike was enjoyable, with the ancient city wall and olive grove on our left, and another smaller retaining wall on our right. We descended back down into civilization, then were faced with the hot, steep climb up to the Piazzale. We faced and conquered it with courage, likely a hundred steps at least, but the breeze and view at the top were worth every bit.
The Piazzale Michelangelo is an impressive terrace in itself. A massive open space with a road circling the inside and a parking lot for locals, lined with the usual assortment of gimmicky souvenir and gelato carts, intermixed with street mucicians and talented watercolor artists. A bronze copy of David stands upon a pedestal, in an epically triumphant pose, surveying the massive expanse of Florence. This panorama can be described no way other than stunning. Miles and miles of red roofed buildings, church spires, and ancient structures stretch before you, the Arno glittering to the left, outlined by the Ponte Vecchio, and the Duomo standing proudly at the center of the mass, its powerful bells only faintly reaching your ears at this distance. The tower of Palazzo Vecchio also creates its own mark upon the horizon. And yet, Florence spreads for miles still to the East, farther than can be seen even from this vantage point. All of this, the origin of the Renaissance, tucked in the slopes of a vast valley, outlined by the gentle yet proud ranges which mark the borders of the great city. I could not have asked for a greater reward to such a long day of trekking. Nothing can resemble the experience.
After fully enjoying the fruits of our labor, we returned the way we had come, though instead this time we passed beneath the city walls and crossed the Arno again, followed it West, then passed through the Uffizi courtyard and the Piazza Della Signoria. We headed over toward the Duomo by way of the back streets to try and find a more off-the-beaten-path place to eat. Instead we stopped by our grocery store to pick up supplies for the next day, then with our packs full of food, stopped at a small yet charming Ristorante. It was a lively place, with arched brick ceilings and nice lighting.
Thankfully, our intuition proved correct, as our best meal of Florence was here. For as little as we ate during the day, and considering how many miles we walked, it seems a miracle that we kept enough energy in us to do what we did. When our meals came, mine of grilled strips of steak, and Erik with a veal bone with mushrooms and sauce, we 'ate like homeless people' as Erik likened it to. After thoroughly enjoying our meal, we dropped the groceries off at the apartment then made our last trip to the Piazza Della Signoria. It just so happened that the gelateria two doors down from us had none other than Panna Cotta flavor. I definitely bought the large cone. I will never love another gelato flavor for as long as I live. Erik picked up some tiramisu gelato from his favorite place, in the alley off of the Piazza. We enjoyed our final Florentine gelato nowhere else but on the steps of the town hall, the sculptures of Hercules and Perseus at our backs, the Palazzo Vecchio stretching toward the darkening sky, its facade and windows glowing brightly. To stand where the rebirth of art was conceived, is to stand almost in a dream. Goodnight, Firenze.
Our final day in Florence was a long, tiring, and rewarding one.
It was hot today. Almost Rome hot. The sun was out most of the time, which was nice aesthetically but not for comfort. We took our usual route through Piazza Della Signoria, past the Uffizi, then west along the Arno to the Ponte Vecchio. This was the first contact we'd had to the famous bridge, and what we did have was short lived, as the alley between the endless jewelry shops was very crowded. Within fifteen minutes of stepping out our door, we reached the Pitti Palace. It's a very expansive and uniform structure, prefaced by a vast piazza which slopes down to the street. We originally mistakenly bought tickets for the Gardens behind the palace (Giardino Boboli) as well as the Palatino and Modern art galleries. The total for both tickets cost us €22 each, so we hurriedly returned the more expensive ticket with no problem. After breathing a sigh of relief, we proceeded into the main courtyard of the Palace, whose side rooms contain the exhibits included in the entrance fee for the Gardens. We viewed multiple rooms of treasures from ancient Russia, including gold and jewel-incrusted swords, reliquaries, and amazing ivory sculpture. We also viewed a 17th-century costume gallery which was hard to find and not really what either of us were expecting.
Thankfully, the gardens were enjoyable despite the heat. The hill above the Pitti Palace is carpeted with manicured lawns, terraces, groves of trees, and shaded pathways. We explored a portion of the gardens I had never seen before, a hilly area with once-paved paths, dappled with the sunlight and shadow of the arching foliage overhead. We returned to the main entrance of the gardens, a large semicircular amphitheater lined with sculptures, an obelisk and oversized marble bathtub in the center. Of the many resident cats that i remember from our last trip, only one was to be found near the gift shop, taking a snooze right in the middle of the gravel walkway. She enjoyed the stroke on the back and chin rub as much as i did. I miss kitties.
Up two flights of stone stairs is a terrace in which a murky fountain sits, full of fish and ducks. Another dogged trip up two more flights will grant you the top of the gardens, where a tall female sculpture stands, facing a nice view of the palace and a slice of Florence. We skirted the border of the garden, then descended again, past an old tea house, and to the best spot in the gardens for a panoramic view of Florence.
As the fates would have it, indeed I ran out of battery on my second photo of the panorama I intended to take. Cursing first the battery for inaccurately telling me its charge level (it said full charge that morning), and myself for not having charged my second battery, we assessed our options. Our plan was to head over to see Fort Belvedere, then head east to Piazzale Michelangelo. With this new development, our original plan was not possible, so we made the (literally) 15 minute return down the hill, through the Piazza Pitti, across the Ponte Vecchio, and to the apartment to charge my battery. This was a good opportunity to rest, though the fact remained that neither of us had eaten much of anything that day, aside from some yogurt and fruit that morning, and an apple during our exhibition tour in the Palace. Even so, we struck out again in an hour or so, around 3:30. We retraced our steps of the morning, recrossing the Ponte Vecchio, though altered our route by making a left on via Giorgio, an uphill path toward Fort Belvedere. This was a nice piece of deja vu for me, as my mom and I had made the same trek on the sloping street, only downhill instead of uphill in the overcast, humid heat. We stopped for a look at Galileo's house, then took a slight detour through the Bardini gardens, a surprisingly smaller yet more well-maintained version of the Boboli Gardens. Resuming our trek on via Giorgio, we found the fort, which was unfortunately closed, then headed left past it to follow the tiny road which runs parallel to the city wall. Erik was skeptical that this road would lead us to the Piazzale Michelangelo, but as I had researched this route beforehand, was confident of our path. Despite having to walk in the paved gutter most of the time due to occasional traffic on the one-lane road, the hike was enjoyable, with the ancient city wall and olive grove on our left, and another smaller retaining wall on our right. We descended back down into civilization, then were faced with the hot, steep climb up to the Piazzale. We faced and conquered it with courage, likely a hundred steps at least, but the breeze and view at the top were worth every bit.
The Piazzale Michelangelo is an impressive terrace in itself. A massive open space with a road circling the inside and a parking lot for locals, lined with the usual assortment of gimmicky souvenir and gelato carts, intermixed with street mucicians and talented watercolor artists. A bronze copy of David stands upon a pedestal, in an epically triumphant pose, surveying the massive expanse of Florence. This panorama can be described no way other than stunning. Miles and miles of red roofed buildings, church spires, and ancient structures stretch before you, the Arno glittering to the left, outlined by the Ponte Vecchio, and the Duomo standing proudly at the center of the mass, its powerful bells only faintly reaching your ears at this distance. The tower of Palazzo Vecchio also creates its own mark upon the horizon. And yet, Florence spreads for miles still to the East, farther than can be seen even from this vantage point. All of this, the origin of the Renaissance, tucked in the slopes of a vast valley, outlined by the gentle yet proud ranges which mark the borders of the great city. I could not have asked for a greater reward to such a long day of trekking. Nothing can resemble the experience.
After fully enjoying the fruits of our labor, we returned the way we had come, though instead this time we passed beneath the city walls and crossed the Arno again, followed it West, then passed through the Uffizi courtyard and the Piazza Della Signoria. We headed over toward the Duomo by way of the back streets to try and find a more off-the-beaten-path place to eat. Instead we stopped by our grocery store to pick up supplies for the next day, then with our packs full of food, stopped at a small yet charming Ristorante. It was a lively place, with arched brick ceilings and nice lighting.
Thankfully, our intuition proved correct, as our best meal of Florence was here. For as little as we ate during the day, and considering how many miles we walked, it seems a miracle that we kept enough energy in us to do what we did. When our meals came, mine of grilled strips of steak, and Erik with a veal bone with mushrooms and sauce, we 'ate like homeless people' as Erik likened it to. After thoroughly enjoying our meal, we dropped the groceries off at the apartment then made our last trip to the Piazza Della Signoria. It just so happened that the gelateria two doors down from us had none other than Panna Cotta flavor. I definitely bought the large cone. I will never love another gelato flavor for as long as I live. Erik picked up some tiramisu gelato from his favorite place, in the alley off of the Piazza. We enjoyed our final Florentine gelato nowhere else but on the steps of the town hall, the sculptures of Hercules and Perseus at our backs, the Palazzo Vecchio stretching toward the darkening sky, its facade and windows glowing brightly. To stand where the rebirth of art was conceived, is to stand almost in a dream. Goodnight, Firenze.
6/16
More Michelangelo
We slept in again this morning, as we had no reservations to keep, and didn't get out the door until a little before noon. It's interesting to step out the door onto via Calzaiuoli. It's almost like trying to get onto a freeway or step into a rushing river. Immediately you are immersed in the energy of Florence's busiest street, with all kinds of people passing on their way to somewhere. We hooked a right onto Calzaiuoli and then a left toward the east portion of Florence. Without a map, we found the Bargello, though it took us a trip around the small museum to find the entrance. Though the Bargello is one of Florence's tinier and lesser known museums, it houses a concentrated yet strong set of works. The building itself is part of the experience, as its frescoed, vaulted ceilings and crest-covered rock walls remind one a bit of a castle. It has beautiful high rooms with patterned windows that make interesting light patterns on the marble floor, and walkways which open onto the main courtyard. The most notable work housed here is Donatello's David, which marked the introduction of the male nude into the renaissance, though to be honest, is outperformed by other pieces in the gallery. One in particular I've always loved is Giambologna's Oceano, whom I had the pleasure of drawing again, and gave Erik a spontaneous yet successful drawing lesson on. It seemed that many others had the same idea, as there were students all throughout the museum sketching.
Once again, Piazza Della Signoria was our place to eat lunch. We resumed our spot from the previous day and were just opening our package of salami when we noticed a camera crew making their way through the crowd, with the cast of Jersey Shore safely at the center. I've never watched the show nor had the desire to, but it was a funny and rather interesting coincidence. We got a couple photos as best we could.
After enjoying the familiar guitar music and the atmosphere of the piazza, we headed northeast again for a quick stop at the Internet point, in order to read reviews and decide on either the Galileo museum or Michelangelo's house museum. Not only was the Casa Buonarroti less than five minutes away, but less expensive and better reviewed. Our choice was obvious, and it proved to be a great one. This museum is quiet and small, but packed with enjoyable artifacts, art inspired by, and original works from Michelangelo himself. The rooms which stood out to me the most were those containing his rough ink sketches. Ironically he wanted to burn these, as he was such a perfectionist, he did not want people to see the workings of his brain, and instead wished to seem perfect. In fact, I feel more of a presence of his very hand in these sketches, moreso than the David or Pieta. The rooms also contained original sketches from Leonardo Da Vinci (rather pathetic ones to be honest, some were literally a half inch square) and others. We headed upstairs, where we saw his diplomas, miniature models he had done in preparation for his main pieces, and a room full of Baroque-era paintings illustrating his life. The only complaint I can say about this museum is that the docents were rather overbearing and started following us around because the museum was closing in fifteen minutes.
After an afternoon of quiet museums, we returned to the crowded and noisy Piazza for another drawing lesson. We spent nearly two hours sitting on the steps of the town hall, me doing my best to teach Erik the fundamentals of drawing the figure. What better figure to instruct with than the David (or rather its copy)? Despite the noise and crowds due to a very strange and creepy mime whom the tourists found very amusing (he was just obnoxious), and incessant hassling from the cup-shaking gypsies, a rather impressive drawing of David was born. Even with just a few sessions of drawing practice, I've seen a great improvement in his work. He's a good padawan. :) I inked and washed a couple of my previous drawings, got an offer from a random Italian for my drawing of Saint Teresa's Ecstasy which I kindly refused, then stopped for dinner on the opposite side of the Piazza. The Jersey Shore crew made another appearance, but overall we enjoyed our meal- me, fillet, and Erik, salmon with the same sauce- in peace.
We grabbed gelato and made another stop at the organ concert. The experience is both impressive and slightly unsettling, as the church is lit sparsely and dramatically, combined with the ominous yet intricate notes of the organ which completely immerse you in the reverberation of sound. A street performer dressed like Charlie Chaplin caught our attention momentarily before we headed in for the night. There is no place like Firenze.
We slept in again this morning, as we had no reservations to keep, and didn't get out the door until a little before noon. It's interesting to step out the door onto via Calzaiuoli. It's almost like trying to get onto a freeway or step into a rushing river. Immediately you are immersed in the energy of Florence's busiest street, with all kinds of people passing on their way to somewhere. We hooked a right onto Calzaiuoli and then a left toward the east portion of Florence. Without a map, we found the Bargello, though it took us a trip around the small museum to find the entrance. Though the Bargello is one of Florence's tinier and lesser known museums, it houses a concentrated yet strong set of works. The building itself is part of the experience, as its frescoed, vaulted ceilings and crest-covered rock walls remind one a bit of a castle. It has beautiful high rooms with patterned windows that make interesting light patterns on the marble floor, and walkways which open onto the main courtyard. The most notable work housed here is Donatello's David, which marked the introduction of the male nude into the renaissance, though to be honest, is outperformed by other pieces in the gallery. One in particular I've always loved is Giambologna's Oceano, whom I had the pleasure of drawing again, and gave Erik a spontaneous yet successful drawing lesson on. It seemed that many others had the same idea, as there were students all throughout the museum sketching.
Once again, Piazza Della Signoria was our place to eat lunch. We resumed our spot from the previous day and were just opening our package of salami when we noticed a camera crew making their way through the crowd, with the cast of Jersey Shore safely at the center. I've never watched the show nor had the desire to, but it was a funny and rather interesting coincidence. We got a couple photos as best we could.
After enjoying the familiar guitar music and the atmosphere of the piazza, we headed northeast again for a quick stop at the Internet point, in order to read reviews and decide on either the Galileo museum or Michelangelo's house museum. Not only was the Casa Buonarroti less than five minutes away, but less expensive and better reviewed. Our choice was obvious, and it proved to be a great one. This museum is quiet and small, but packed with enjoyable artifacts, art inspired by, and original works from Michelangelo himself. The rooms which stood out to me the most were those containing his rough ink sketches. Ironically he wanted to burn these, as he was such a perfectionist, he did not want people to see the workings of his brain, and instead wished to seem perfect. In fact, I feel more of a presence of his very hand in these sketches, moreso than the David or Pieta. The rooms also contained original sketches from Leonardo Da Vinci (rather pathetic ones to be honest, some were literally a half inch square) and others. We headed upstairs, where we saw his diplomas, miniature models he had done in preparation for his main pieces, and a room full of Baroque-era paintings illustrating his life. The only complaint I can say about this museum is that the docents were rather overbearing and started following us around because the museum was closing in fifteen minutes.
After an afternoon of quiet museums, we returned to the crowded and noisy Piazza for another drawing lesson. We spent nearly two hours sitting on the steps of the town hall, me doing my best to teach Erik the fundamentals of drawing the figure. What better figure to instruct with than the David (or rather its copy)? Despite the noise and crowds due to a very strange and creepy mime whom the tourists found very amusing (he was just obnoxious), and incessant hassling from the cup-shaking gypsies, a rather impressive drawing of David was born. Even with just a few sessions of drawing practice, I've seen a great improvement in his work. He's a good padawan. :) I inked and washed a couple of my previous drawings, got an offer from a random Italian for my drawing of Saint Teresa's Ecstasy which I kindly refused, then stopped for dinner on the opposite side of the Piazza. The Jersey Shore crew made another appearance, but overall we enjoyed our meal- me, fillet, and Erik, salmon with the same sauce- in peace.
We grabbed gelato and made another stop at the organ concert. The experience is both impressive and slightly unsettling, as the church is lit sparsely and dramatically, combined with the ominous yet intricate notes of the organ which completely immerse you in the reverberation of sound. A street performer dressed like Charlie Chaplin caught our attention momentarily before we headed in for the night. There is no place like Firenze.
6/15
The Hard-hitters
One of the greatest art collections is housed in Florence at the Uffizi gallery. It's a horseshoe-shaped gallery with three floors, the third of which is lined with windows and at one point runs parallel to the Arno river.
As the gallery sits directly adjacent to the Palazzo Vecchio, a walk of merely minutes from our apartment, we had no trouble keeping our 10:30 reservation. If ever you visit the Uffizi, please do yourself a favor and make a reservation. We collected our tickets at the number 3 door, and literally walked inside while, as so many times before, those who failed to plan ahead stood wasting their time in line while we headed on to the art. Checking our bags was required, though they told me to keep my camera with me, which was quite an unfair thing to ask due to the no-photo policy.
The main hall of the gallery is lined with windows, between which on either side stand ancient sculptures, usually Roman copies of Greek originals. The sculptures here are in my opinion the weakest aspect of the collection, as the quality of the paintings completely overshadows all else. The main hall opens into a myriad of rooms which house specific eras or artists' work within. First, one will tour the Byzantine rooms, then essentially, section by section, view the Renaissance's evolution throughout the gallery. The number of artistic gurus whose work is displayed here is staggering. I'll list the ones who come to mind immediately: Giotto, Duccio, Cimabue, Botticelli, Michelangelo, Da Vinci, Durer, Titian, Caravaggio, Rembrandt, Tintoretto, Raphael, Artemesia... And that's the short list. Such works as Botticelli's Primavera and Birth of Venus hang here. Short of the Louvre, the Uffizi is possibly the most concentrated collection of talent housed in a single museum.
We spent 3 or 4 hours soaking in the glory of the greats. The lunch we ate was fit for a dog, but the weather and location- atop the town hall, across from the Palazzo Vecchio, was grand.
With the juice from a fresh fruit cup quenching our thirst, we sat on the side of the town hall which faces the intersection between the Palazzo Vecchio and the Uffizi. Counterfeit art vendors attempted to sell their wares to no avail, and even once the wind blew one poster beneath the feet of an innocent passerby, who effectively creased the poster in half in mid-stride. The vendor was furious, but could do nothing, as the tourist was innocent.
After taking in the music from a live guitarist and the bustle of the crowd among the ancient structures surrounding us, we made our way to Santa Croce. This church has fascinated me since I took a peek into its courtyard three years ago. Since then, it has become increasingly intriguing for reasons I will explain shortly.
The facade is impressive, sheer white marble with ornate patterns of inlaid green and pink. It is a rather large church, more like a monastery, as its grounds spread horizontally for almost an entire block. Other than the facade, it is a very medieval-looking structure, made of dark stone. Despite the steep entrance fee, we were eager to get inside. (Everything is expensive in Florence) Again, it seems a very medieval church. Probably gothic in style. Dim inside, though beautifully lit in places by stained glass. Toward the altar and on the side aisles lie tombs in the floor. It is rather unsettling and one instinctively avoids stepping there. As beautiful and sobering as the church itself is, the draw for us were the tombs of none other than Michelangelo, Galileo, and , to name a few. Michelangelo's tomb was one of the most modest, considering his status, though still regal, and adorned with high quality marble sculptures representing each of his crafts: painting, sculpting, and poetry. A bust of his likeness stands above the tomb. Through all the busts we have seen of the great man, I can finally visualize what he once looked like. It was a great experience to pay our respects to arguably the greatest artist to ever live. The halls and side chapels are tranquil and interesting, and the courtyard outside is beauifully well kept. A truly enjoyable experience.
We headed farther north directly from Santa Croce to find Michelangelo's house. It was closed, so we stopped into an Internet point to email the family and transfer some of my photos to a flash drive.
Our dinner that night was a bit unorthodox, but unforgettable. On our way back to the apartment, we stopped by the grocery store to stock up on sustenance for the next day, and realized they carried a top ramen equivalent. We grabbed a few bags of ramen, some chips, salsa, and salami, and went home to prepare our impromptu meal. The stove was an electric, and kept turning itself off and on, but ultimately, after a half hour, we had our dinner laid out on our circular table on the terrace with a nice table cloth and drinks. Again we watched the sun sink below the horizon together and enjoyed the sights and sounds of Firenze.
One of the greatest art collections is housed in Florence at the Uffizi gallery. It's a horseshoe-shaped gallery with three floors, the third of which is lined with windows and at one point runs parallel to the Arno river.
As the gallery sits directly adjacent to the Palazzo Vecchio, a walk of merely minutes from our apartment, we had no trouble keeping our 10:30 reservation. If ever you visit the Uffizi, please do yourself a favor and make a reservation. We collected our tickets at the number 3 door, and literally walked inside while, as so many times before, those who failed to plan ahead stood wasting their time in line while we headed on to the art. Checking our bags was required, though they told me to keep my camera with me, which was quite an unfair thing to ask due to the no-photo policy.
The main hall of the gallery is lined with windows, between which on either side stand ancient sculptures, usually Roman copies of Greek originals. The sculptures here are in my opinion the weakest aspect of the collection, as the quality of the paintings completely overshadows all else. The main hall opens into a myriad of rooms which house specific eras or artists' work within. First, one will tour the Byzantine rooms, then essentially, section by section, view the Renaissance's evolution throughout the gallery. The number of artistic gurus whose work is displayed here is staggering. I'll list the ones who come to mind immediately: Giotto, Duccio, Cimabue, Botticelli, Michelangelo, Da Vinci, Durer, Titian, Caravaggio, Rembrandt, Tintoretto, Raphael, Artemesia... And that's the short list. Such works as Botticelli's Primavera and Birth of Venus hang here. Short of the Louvre, the Uffizi is possibly the most concentrated collection of talent housed in a single museum.
We spent 3 or 4 hours soaking in the glory of the greats. The lunch we ate was fit for a dog, but the weather and location- atop the town hall, across from the Palazzo Vecchio, was grand.
With the juice from a fresh fruit cup quenching our thirst, we sat on the side of the town hall which faces the intersection between the Palazzo Vecchio and the Uffizi. Counterfeit art vendors attempted to sell their wares to no avail, and even once the wind blew one poster beneath the feet of an innocent passerby, who effectively creased the poster in half in mid-stride. The vendor was furious, but could do nothing, as the tourist was innocent.
After taking in the music from a live guitarist and the bustle of the crowd among the ancient structures surrounding us, we made our way to Santa Croce. This church has fascinated me since I took a peek into its courtyard three years ago. Since then, it has become increasingly intriguing for reasons I will explain shortly.
The facade is impressive, sheer white marble with ornate patterns of inlaid green and pink. It is a rather large church, more like a monastery, as its grounds spread horizontally for almost an entire block. Other than the facade, it is a very medieval-looking structure, made of dark stone. Despite the steep entrance fee, we were eager to get inside. (Everything is expensive in Florence) Again, it seems a very medieval church. Probably gothic in style. Dim inside, though beautifully lit in places by stained glass. Toward the altar and on the side aisles lie tombs in the floor. It is rather unsettling and one instinctively avoids stepping there. As beautiful and sobering as the church itself is, the draw for us were the tombs of none other than Michelangelo, Galileo, and , to name a few. Michelangelo's tomb was one of the most modest, considering his status, though still regal, and adorned with high quality marble sculptures representing each of his crafts: painting, sculpting, and poetry. A bust of his likeness stands above the tomb. Through all the busts we have seen of the great man, I can finally visualize what he once looked like. It was a great experience to pay our respects to arguably the greatest artist to ever live. The halls and side chapels are tranquil and interesting, and the courtyard outside is beauifully well kept. A truly enjoyable experience.
We headed farther north directly from Santa Croce to find Michelangelo's house. It was closed, so we stopped into an Internet point to email the family and transfer some of my photos to a flash drive.
Our dinner that night was a bit unorthodox, but unforgettable. On our way back to the apartment, we stopped by the grocery store to stock up on sustenance for the next day, and realized they carried a top ramen equivalent. We grabbed a few bags of ramen, some chips, salsa, and salami, and went home to prepare our impromptu meal. The stove was an electric, and kept turning itself off and on, but ultimately, after a half hour, we had our dinner laid out on our circular table on the terrace with a nice table cloth and drinks. Again we watched the sun sink below the horizon together and enjoyed the sights and sounds of Firenze.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)