Spring Break in Florence

[Being Part 2 of the necessarily incomplete reflections on our recent sojourn in Italy.] 

So we packed up our two mega-suitcases and roll-along carryons and headed off to the train station in Venice. Departure was a normal "hurry up and wait" procedure, but soon we were heading south to Florence where we had spent a delightful time at Hotel Brunelleschi during our first trip to Italy together some seven or eight years ago. It is a neat location, set in a converted church and featuring a Byzantine tower dating from the 6th century. But our luck ran out a bit here. Our comfy little place had gone upscale - but rather unevenly.

The website features spacious rooms with luxe accommodations. Those were apparently all taken when we checked in. No doubt spoiled by our rather palatial digs in Venice we felt a bit let down when we were shown, by an unfailingly polite staff member - why did the quote from My Fair Lady, "oozing charm from every pore, he oiled his way across the floor," spring to mind? - to a clean, fresh room with almost enough room to swing a dead cat.

The room did feature a nice sized bed and a bathroom that could be defined as well-appointed. I waffle a bit on that description as the room and the hotel at large had apparently been redesigned by a bright young designer from one of Italy's hip design schools - the one's that turn out Lamborghinis, Paganis, Maseratis, etc. The problem was that the fixtures were so ultra hip that it was a challenge to figure out how to use them. For example, what do you think this is?

It is a faucet. You pull out the middle part, which is a lever, to turn on the water and then twist it clockwise or counter - I was never sure which - to adjust the temperature. The water then spills into this crystal-like container - manufactured I assume in the Italian equivalent to Rivendell.

The light switches were toggles that came in ranks of three which illuminated various sets of lights - seemingly in random order. 

 The elevators on the other hand were all glass, quite roomy, and moved smoothly from floor to floor. And the breakfasts were again excellent, lacking the egg cooker, but beating out Venice with a great selection of pancakes with maple syrup, and again a benign tolerance of my doing "carry out" to Christine. However, given the close quarters in our room, it should not strike you as odd that we came to spend much of our down time in the very pleasant bar before striking out to enjoy the city outside.

Timing had presented us with a few options during our trip. We had planned for Carnival in Venice and found the experience delightful. We had not planned for Spring Break in Florence and since there were no beaches to speak of, the kids, often of seeming middle school age and lead by teachers cum tour guides, flooded the streets. And these were streets that shared in a dance, strangely reminiscent of the running of the bulls in Pamplona. Their dance partners were motorcycles, cars, trucks and electric scooters, all seemingly very late for an appointment somewhere else. Shudder. Look both ways - no, look all ways.

Fortunately, we knew where we were going and Christine knew how to get there. Tho' I must add in my own defense, that when I bombed out and retreated to the hotel for a map, my trusty iPhone map got me there easily - some 80 to 90 percent of the time.

For me Florence is really about two things, art and meat. First the art. Historically, Michelangelo and Botticelli are the ones that pulls us back. It is naturally The David at the Accademia that draws the crowds and deservedly so, I mean the big guy is really impressive - 17 feet tall and made from a single flawed piece of marble - and all that by a guy who never did practice versions, just started hacking away at a huge stone to "free the statue lurking inside."

And over in the Uffizi Galleries Botticelli's Birth of Venus and Primavera [aka Springtime] both make a visual bucket list and we did them both.

However, it is the more hidden workshops and galleries in Florence that I find attractive. There is one on a street that I can neither remember or spell that duplicates carousel horses. A big lathe that has a reference rod that passes over a finished pony that guides a couple of cutting blades that carve the new horse. Later that afternoon we were resting in a plaza where a carousel was being packed up to move, I assume to another location, and I wondered if those horses had sprung from that backstreet workshop.

But who am I kidding, Florence means meat to me. Two items in particular. First one that is ubiquitous, "bistecca alla fiorentina," is a T-bone steak made from Chianina beef, a breed of cattle native to Tuscany, and is cooked rare, many places refuse to cook it any other way. We get our fix at Il'Latini, a sort of hole in the wall, but with long lines out in the street. A few images - trigger warning for vegans and vegetarians:

Then there is La Giostra that we refer to as the Prince's place, because when we went there on our first trip to Italy, the owner was an actual Italian prince. He was the very essence of an attentive restaurant owner, poured our wine, hand-grated truffle on our pasta, cared for us without hovering. We just loved him. He has passed but the family still owns the restaurant and we had a lovely time reminiscing with his daughter. And, of course, went back twice to get the grilled goat chops. 

As with the Chianina beef, we spent significant time trying to decide how one would describe these flavors - and decided you simply cannot. Color to the blind, music to the deaf; one could make a sincere effort, but one doomed to fail.

The rains set in for our last couple of days in Florence, and growing tired from our extended travels, we pretty much cocooned in the hotel, hanging out with Spritzes in the bar. The rain was an omen. Made our flight late out of Florence into Munich, missed the connector to O'Hare, stayed in a strange little hotel provided by Lufthansa and headed off to O'Hare the next day.

Really neat Lufthansa plane, comfortable big seats in extended economy, contained so leaning back or forward didn't intrude on the space behind you. Free drinks. Airplane food served with real utensils, but even Lufthansa couldn't make a silk purse out of that particular sow's ear. Watched a lot of video on screen with real full-sized headphones.

Good times, but glad to be home. Exhausted, not quite as young as we used to be. 🙂 it will take awhile to transition to life in this hemisphere.