Italy - Day Ten (sun in Florence)

Okay, this was our last full in Italy. We could either hop the train to Rome early and spend it there, or spend it mostly in Florence and take a later train to Rome (we were staying our last night in Rome, as we were flying out of there). There was still so much to see in Florence, that we decided to stay longer here, take a later train, and hopefully catch the Christmas tree finally lit at the Vatican.



The day was beautiful! Full sun, no rain, gorgeous city. We checked out of our room and stashed our luggage with the concierge before heading out. We walked down the river to Ponte Vecchio, a medieval bridge spanning the Arno River with shops all along it. We passed a line of parked motorbikes that seemed to stretch for blocks (between those and the Smart cars, which are all over Rome too, it’s obvious that Italians have fully embraced economical vehicles).

We came to the Basilica of Santa Maria del Santo Spirito, which was rebuilt in the 1400s following a fire. It’s Gothic in design, but honestly since we were prohibited from taking any pictures inside I don’t recall a lot. There were a lot of paintings, and according to the guidebooks they apparently included a Lippi.

We headed toward the Galleria dell’Accademia, but when we got there, we weren’t sure where to enter. We wandered up to the university, located next to it, and asked someone where it was. We were unceremoniously told, “Left! Left!” and shooed out. I will say here that by this point, considering the number of a) snooty, or b) unhelpful, or c) snooty and unhelpful people we had run into in Florence, we were neither surprised or offended by her response. Initially though, we were surprised to find this so common in Florence, as people in Rome had been completely opposite and really pleasant. Maybe it’s the Gothic influence?

So we managed to find the not-so-obvious entrance, and bought our tickets. The Galleria dell’Accademia is the first art school in Europe, started in 1563, to teach exclusively painting, drawing and sculpture. In 1784, it opened its art collection for students and visitors to study and includes Michaelangelo’s “David,” works by Lippi (ahh, Lippi), Botticelli, and the original plaster for Giambologna's “Rape of the Sabine Women” (considering it was carved from a single block of marble I can see how it was considered to be his masterpiece).

In addition to “David,” there are also four unfinished marble sculptures of Michaelangelo’s on display that I really found fascinating. While “David” is stunning and beautiful, these other pieces, “Four Prisoners,” intended for Pope Julius II’s tomb, appear to be walking out of enormous marble blocks, with just their torsos and arms gaining shape.

We also saw some amazing Russian Christian icons, musical instruments, and yes, more “Annunciation” and “Adoration” depictions, just in case we were feeling in need of a re-fill. Overall the Galleria was a really nice museum, with nice displays, interesting and different pieces, and not too overwhelming.

We made it back to the hotel, grabbed our bags, asked the concierge what bus we should take back to the train station, but she appeared to only speak Russian, so we just wandered outside until we came upon a sign. Ron had previously seen that bus tickets could be purchased from meters that also offered parking passes, so we attempted to use one. It took a few tries, and a lost Euro or two, but we finally managed to get it to spit out two tickets. When a bus came, we hopped on for the quick ride to the station, however, as seemed to be our luck in Florence, this bus took us on an hour-tour of the other side of Florence, up into the hills, beautiful views, but as far from the station as could be. (The primary issue here was that we failed to purchase a bus map at the station when we arrived, plus no one we ever asked was helpful or knowledgeable about the busses, and therefore we will not fail to get a bus map next time we head anywhere in Europe.)

We finally managed to get the 5:30pm train back to Rome, although it was delayed until 6:00pm. In Rome, we dropped our bags back at our friendly Monte Carlo hotel (same room even), and dashed out to take one last look at the Vatican in the moonlight and grab some dinner.

As we were walking around the quiet streets around the Vatican, I was taking pictures and Ron was ambling about and was approached by a woman. He then came over to me and said that she had very kindly asked him if he needed a drink or a sandwich, to which he said no thank you, only after which he realized that she was there offering food and blankets to the homeless who were huddled in doorways. We chortled at her thinking we were homeless, but then wondered just how frazzled we looked. Regardless, it’s a perfect example of how nice and kind Romans are.


I was disappointed to see that nine days before Christmas the enormous tree in front of St. Peter’s still was not lit. I mean, Target’s probably had their trees up, decorated, lit and spinning for at least 35 days. And this is the Vatican! Oh well. We walked back over the Ponte Sant’Angelo (bridge) and marveled at Bernini’s statues along the way. We had had a wonderful lunch over in this area last time, so we wandered back there but found the restaurant was closed. Turning around, we decided to try Passetto Ristorante, where we were serenaded by a sweet Italian gentleman who served us while he hummed various selections from the “Moonstruck” soundtrack. It was a nice ending to a wonderful vacation.

The following morning we lugged our bags, now filled with Italian ceramics and biscuits, back to Termini station, grabbed the train to the airport and other than the typical issues on an Egypt Air flight (cramped and crammed in, trash stacked on trays, etc.), we had a nice flight.

We met a young Italian woman who was meeting her boyfriend in Cairo. I gave her some advice for wandering around on her own, how to cross the street, don’t ride the buses, and ignore “helpful” people as they always own papyrus shops, however based on her anxiety over the general chaos of the flight, I’m not sure how she’ll cope with Cairo proper. However, I do have complete faith in Cairo’s ability to suck the type-A out of anybody, so hopefully she’ll relax, step around the trash piles and enjoy herself. She gets to return home to Rome, so either way she’ll be fine. With any luck, I could be a Dip Wife in Rome sometime in the future... one can always dream.

Italy - Day Nine (Duomo & the panic attack)

Our first (and only) full day in Florence started at 7:00 am (gotta squeeze it all in)! We were at the Uffizi Museum by 8:30am, having planned our day around using the most efficient and logical route to ensure the most sites seen. Here began our descent into the before-unknown depths of just how many paintings one can see of “The Annunciation” and “Adoration of the Magi.”

They had one Michaelangelo painting, which we dutifully saw and ooh’d at, several da Vinci’s, and after seeing my 87th Lippi painting I found he was growing on me. We also got to see the original Botticelli’s “The Birth of Venus” (c. 1484), which I found really breathtaking. There was a small wing of Caravaggio, who is one of Ron’s favorites, however I found him a little dark, literally and figuratively, not to mention his “Medusa” painting is rather horrifying. (The photo above was taken surreptitiously in the Uffizi corridor, however not surreptitiously enough as I was scolded afterwards and took no more.) Considering our time limitations, we pre-set a three-hour limit for the Uffizi. So we took a brief respite from exploring every possible rendition of “Adoration” paintings, and headed over to the Duomo (Basilica di Santa Maria del Fiore).


Unfortunately it was raining today (oh right, we’re still in Italy), so I was disappointed about my exterior photos. However, we did enter and found a cavernous interior with a few paintings around, some beautiful stained glass windows, but overall a simple Gothic design and as far from Baroque as you could get. It was built between 1296-1463, with its famous dome designed by Brunelleschi, and the interior dome frescos of “The Last Judgment” being painted by Vasari and Zuccari (1572-74).


We had the option to climb up into the dome, and without any hesitation we bought our tickets and headed on up the 463 steps (well, Ron climbed 463 steps…). As we headed up the winding spiral stone staircase we would periodically get glimpses of rainy Florence outside. And obviously as we climbed higher, we got higher and higher views. All was great. No problems. Until we hit the dome and were suddenly staring into the Duomo, almost 300 feet in the air, at a stone walkway that crept around half of the dome. Now, there was a very sturdy stone banister, as well as a thick plexiglass shield reaching easily to seven feet, however, logic has no bearing on a really good panic attack.

So, as life putters on we come upon times where we have to face our fears. And that’s exactly what Ron did. He faced me; tears streaming down my face, begging him to let me go back the way we came, trying not to hyperventilate. He held my hand, while I gripped his other arm, and he slowly, ever so slowly, led me, with closed eyes and panicked breaths, around the inside of the dome. I could never ask for a better husband (we won’t even mention how a year earlier he had to perform a similar task when my dormant fear of fish staring at me manifested while snorkeling on our honeymoon in Maui and he dragged my crying, hyperventilating butt back to shore while I tried unsuccessfully to ride on his shoulders).


We made it around the top, however his Duomo task wasn’t 100% complete yet. While I waited in the stone staircase and tried to calm my breathing, he continued up to the top where he was able to stand outside and see all of Florence (he gets full credit for all those photos). Then, as we descended, me with a song in my heart, Ron suddenly stopped and said, “Uh oh, we have to do it again.” We were lower on the dome, but we had to go around half of it one more time. I managed to do it without tears this time, but I still shuffled around it holding on to Ron with my eyes squeezed tightly shut. Oh boy, how I love this man!

By the time we got down to the ground I was exhausted (never underestimate the energy required to have a full-blown panic attack). We took a break and grabbed some wonderful pizza at a local spot and watched the rain continue to drizzle.

Fully fortified, we returned to the Duomo and entered the octagonal Baptistry located next to it. Next to the exterior of the Duomo, this was my favorite site in Florence! It was built between 1059 and 1128 and has three sets of very famous bronze doors created by Ghiberti, depicting scriptural stories that Michaelangelo called, “The Gates of Paradise.” Up until the end of the 19th century, all Catholic Florentines were baptized here, including Dante and members of the Medici family (very influential and powerful Florentine family from whom came three popes and the start of the Renaissance movement).



Inside, the ceiling is covered in 13th century mosaics that took my breath away (in a good way, no need for Ron’s help here). I found myself just standing in the middle of the floor, staring up for long periods of time, at the intricate glittering scenes depicting Biblical stories. There was some restoration work going on, but luckily the ceiling was fully visible and in remarkable condition.


From here, we found ourselves wandering. I had been expressing a desire to purchase Italian pottery pieces since the day we landed, but Rome proved to be unhelpful. However, to my great luck, we came upon a little shop selling pottery a few blocks away. We spent a little while there, speaking with the owner who creates works based on old designs, from the 13th, 15th century, etc. After perusing his goods, we chose four pieces. Initially three, but I expressed interest in a beautiful pitcher and he dropped the price enough to convince us to take it as well.

Next on our “How to See Florence in 48-Hours” tour was the Santa Maria Novella church. It’s a huge complex that was started in 1279 by the Dominicans, however I found it a little too Gothic and empty. Or rather, my energy levels were dropping significantly therefore any possible interest I would normally have in such sites had been dwarfed by apathy and exhaustion.

Our next church stop was the Church of San Lorenzo. It was consecrated in 393 AD, was the parish church of the Medici family and housed the last known works of Donatello.

From here I was rapidly becoming whiny and cranky, so we grabbed a bus back to the hotel and dropped off our ceramic goodies. Mildly refreshed, we walked over to Santa Croce church to attended mass. (At one point during the service a cell phone went off and I noticed one of the priests in the pews started to snicker. Finally the main priest realized it was his phone, smiled sheepishly as he turned it off, and continued the service. Interesting juxtaposition of a cell phone in a 700-year-old church.)

Santa Croce is the largest Franciscan church in the world and is believed to have been founded by St. Francis himself. The current building was built in 1294 to replace the older structure. Many famous Italians have been buried here, including Michaelangelo, Galileo and Machiavelli. There’s also a statue dedicated to Dante, although he’s buried in Ravenna. Sadly, for us, the church was under significant restoration when we saw it, so other than scaffolding and plastic tarps, little impression was made.

As we exited the church we spotted a restaurant across the way lit with strings of lights. As our attraction to these lights had not led us astray yet, we opted to try Baldovino for our last night in Florence. The lights were right! It was by far the best dinner we had had in Italy. It was a rustic, family-type restaurant, with half locals and half non-Italians. The family across the way from us brought their little dog who sat quietly under the table awaiting pizza bits. The food was fantastic, the homemade focaccia with olive oil and tomatoes was astounding, and my gnocci sent me into a happy little carb coma I was content to wallow in. Had we found this in Rome, we would have eaten here again and again. We did note that they also have Villas in Tuscany and offer various vacation packages – filed away for future planning.

On a high from our foray into the Italian kitchen, and taking advantage of the lack of rain, we strolled the streets, did some window-shopping and people-watching. We eventually found ourselves back at Baldovinos, walking back to the hotel. We were passed by a motorbike (they’re all over the place, and considering the cobbled streets and narrow alleys I can see why). Suddenly there was a crash and the bike seemed to hit an imaginary wall, throw its rear wheel into the air along with its second passenger, and the driver flew over the front wheel. Without even thinking we found ourselves running towards them, but luckily (for them, truly), others beat us to them. They were both conscious, but definitely hurt and the bike had taken some damage too. We realized that the people around us were calling for help, so we backed off and continued our walk. While our initial reaction was to help, we both realized that our lack of ability to communicate thoroughly, even utilizing Ron’s, “I don’t need a blood transfusion,” sentence, wasn’t going to be of much help.

A few blocks away we saw a young couple get out of a car and walk off down the street. As we passed their parked car, I noticed that their passenger window was down and their car was packed full of stuff. Immediately Ron’s Italian-gene kicked in (finally), and without hesitation he yelled for the man and told him, in Italian, that his window was down. The man ran back, thanked us profusely, and put up his window. Now, Ron may have thoroughly redeemed himself linguistically, however, have no fear, I will never let "No worko" die.

Italy - Day Eight (Florence Bound)

Destination Florence! We checked out of the Monte Carlo in the morning, and with the continued help of the front desk staff (who were of great assistance with any of our questions, from maps to directions to bus recommendations, etc.) we headed back to Termini Station to grab a train to Florence. As luck, or lack-thereof, would have it, it was torrentially pouring as we walked to Termini. It got so bad on our way to the bus stop that we pulled into a doorway to just get out of the deluge. We dove back into it as it let up for a moment, found our luck was not with us at the bus stop either and decided to just walk the rest of the way to the station (there is a point at which you just can’t get any more soaked).

We were able to find the correct train to Florence, got our tickets and were even able to figure out which car and seats we were in. We settled in for the ride, watching beautiful Italian scenery zip past us along the way.

Just 90 minutes later, we found ourselves standing in the Firenze Santa Maria Novella train station. So exciting! Now we just needed to figure out which bus would get us closest to our hotel. The online directions said there was a bus stop close to the hotel, but they neglected to tell us which bus we needed. This minor absent point managed to blow up into a major issue, which involved us dragging our suitcases all over the station, back and forth, up and down and up again the street in front of the station, asking this person, that bus driver, this station employee, all to no avail. Finally someone told us to take the 30 bus and after more wandering, by which point my tolerance levels were shrinking, we found the bus stop and within a few minutes the bus arrived. About time! So the next 90 minutes of our lives took us on a tour of the outlying suburbs of Florence, into fields and farms, past car dealerships, and lots and lots of apartments and houses. This was wrong, very very wrong.

Ron approached the driver at one stop and attempted to ask if the bus was going to head back to Florence, as it was seeming to head north towards Switzerland. The driver, who was on his mobile phone, couldn’t be bothered with Ron and waved him off. Feeling either extra adventurous, or merely apathetically exhausted, more likely the latter, we opted to just ride the bus and see what happens. After 90 minutes we found ourselves back at the lovely train station, where we took our one and only taxi in Italy. The ride to our hotel took about six minutes. We could have walked there and back about 24 times during our bus ride to nowhere.

We settled in to our room, which, despite the River Hotel being on the Arno river, we had a view of the central courtyard. We then headed out to start wandering. A lot of shops were closed, but the cobbled streets were still charming. We did manage to find two shops open, one in which Ron purchased some Limoncello and I purchased a less-purely-functional winter hat with a little more pizzazz.

We did come upon the Church of Saint Ambrose, which is said to house a vial of miraculous blood. Tradition says, in 1230 AD, a priest did not properly dry the chalice following Mass and later found blood instead of the consecrated wine in it. The church was rather austere compared to the overwhelmingly ornate churches we’d left in Rome, however it did have some amazing frescos.


Our wanderings did bring us to the Duomo, which you practically smack into as you turn a corner. It’s this amazingly enormous stunning structure, seemingly wedged into the middle of Florence. I truly couldn’t get enough of it. It was like a big glorious white and green marble wedding cake. Despite the rain, yes it was raining again, it took my breath away (which was telling, considering how I reacted the following day).


We grabbed dinner at a little restaurant where we were the only customers, then walked back to the hotel for a good rest after a mildly stressful day.

Italy - Day Seven (Hey, that's the Pope!)

NOTE: I apologize for the blog absence of late. We've had houseguests and I've been traveling, so the blog has been put aside. But let me finish up Italy and we'll get back to the chaos of Cairo.
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ITALY - Day Seven (Hey, that's the Pope!)


Sunday morning in Rome -- gotta see the Pope, right? We walked down to St. Peter’s Square and after waiting a little while, amusing ourselves with some fabulous people watching, Pope Benedict the 16th appeared at his window in the sky and we were privy to his weekly prayer service in which he offered blessings in at least Italian, English, Spanish, and French to a very enthusiastic crowd.

Since the weather was beautiful today (yeah!), we decided to walk over to the Castel Sant’Angelo, which we had passed repeatedly on our way to and from the Vatican. It is located on the banks of the Tibre and apparently started out as a mausoleum in 128 AD, however has also provided a place of safety for popes since 1277 AD due to an underground tunnel between it and the Vatican. For whatever reason, however, it was closed today.


We took in the floodwaters of the Tibre as we crossed the bridge, looking for a lunch spot. We found a great trattoria, all locals inside, and had a wonderful lunch of homemade pizzas.

From here we walked to the Pantheon, as we were drawn to it almost daily. And along the way I convinced Ron (with great arm-twisting, I might add) to stop and share one more gelato. Yes, it was cold, but at least it wasn’t raining.

We then found ourselves back in the Pantheon square, full of Romans, tourists and even some live music. The latter had great, and immediate, effect on Ron who found himself moved to perform his robot-dance in the middle of the square. Why can't I remember to carry a video camera?!

We continued our walk, determined to find an obelisk mentioned in the guidebooks that had an elephant at its base. It was a mere block behind the Pantheon, but we had managed to never see it during our previous amblings. It stood in front of a huge gothic church that had brilliant blue ceilings and ornate gilding.

We made one more trip to St. Ignatius di Loyola so I could grab some pictures (there was a mass when we’d come earlier), and then hopped on a bus to find Basilica di San Giovanni in Laterno. We had noted a priest on the bus and assuming he might lead us to our destination we followed him off the bus. Well, this was no ordinary priest, he was apparently a former Olympic speed walker, so we were soon left in his priestly dust. But we huffed our way up the hill and in a few blocks found ourselves at San Giovanni.


The Basilica di San Giovanni in Laterno was founded in 313 AD by Constantine and was the first basilica (large church given ceremonial rites by the Pope) to be built in Rome. It also served as the Pope’s primary residence until the late 1300s. While it was certainly large, gilded and impressive, we were both very taken with the octagonal bapistry next door. We quietly imposed on flurries of Italian families who had either just finished baptisms, or were about to begin them. But the feeling of joy and family was incredibly strong and Ron and I each were very moved by their presence. The mosaics, dating from the 5th and 7th centuries, were particularly stunning.


By this point it was getting dark so we hopped on another bus to take us back “home.” Along the way we came upon the Colosseum, and in a spontaneous flash we dashed off the bus to get some night photos. We then decided to take a romantic walk in the moonlight, past the Arch of Constantine, and on to the Circus Maximus, which, in its 1st century heyday was Rome’s first stadium, seating 250,000, but currently is merely a large grassy bit with Roman rubble pieces.


We finished out the day with dinner at a local restaurant a few blocks away from our hotel. Other than sharing it with an exuberant group of American high-schoolers and their chaperones, we had a nice meal, complete with my last cannoli.

Italy - Day Six (hey look, sun!)

Glory of glories, the rain has stopped! The sun is out and we are on day six! Even better than the glorious weather, my dear husband, feeling a rush of romanticism kindly compared me to his pineapple pastry at breakfast – saying something about being sweet and how the yellow pineapple filing reminded him of my hair (sticky? Chunky?). Now, if we go by intentions alone, he gets full credit. But if we throw in a dash of common sense, he only gets half credit (since he didn’t apply any).

We started off the day at the Basilica of St. Mary’s of the Angels and Martyrs, which was located right across from Termini Station. Externally it looked like a pile of Roman ruins, but inside it was enormous and cavernous and, as always, impressive. It was originally designed by Michaelangelo in 1593, however only the vaulted ceiling remains from his initial plans.


Next, we walked to the Basilica di Santa Maria Maggiore. This amazing structure was built in the 5th century with the tallest belfry in all of Rome (reaching 246 feet). It still has a stunning border of glittering mosaics dating from the 5th century, however my photos just couldn’t capture them well (too high). This was a really spectacular church, and in addition to the amazing architecture and artwork, it was also the church where Ron’s cousin, Mark, was ordained as a priest in 2005.




Afterwards, we wandered around a bit and found ourselves in Rome’s Chinatown. I popped into one small store that seemed to sell hats and beads, and grabbed a simple winter hat, fearing what the weather would be like in Florence being farther North. We found a trattoria for lunch where the food was excellent and I had three ravioli each the size of a salad plate!

Ron had been reading in the guidebooks about catacombs in several churches across Rome. Apparently you can visit most of them, with a guide. However, with the pouring rain and flooding rivers, we weren’t sure how accessible they would be, but we decided to check out northern Rome and the Church of St. Agnes. We hopped on a bus and headed north through some lovely tree-lined streets. To set the mood for the quintessential Roman bus ride (or MGM musical), we even had an accordion player on the bus playing “That’s Amore.” It was perfect!!

We hopped off approximately where we thought it should be, wandered the street a bit and finally asked a very nice policeman who directed us to the building we had passed two blocks back. The Basilica of St. Agnes is a 4th century medieval church, complete with a complex including a mausoleum, Bocce courts, a small café, football (soccer) fields, and a bathroom that has a temperamental light (throwing one into darkness at highly inconvenient moments, instilling flashes of momentary panic).

We explored the Basilica of St. Agnes and tried to get a guide for the catacombs underneath, but we overheard a rather grumpy priest tell some other visitors that the guide wasn’t there today so no one was allowed in. Well, blah.

At the other end of the complex was the Church of St. Constanza, which was built by Constantine as a mausoleum for his two daughters. It was circular with a simple design and had stunning mosaics dating from the 4th century. This was our first experience with the pay-for-lighting machines. As we entered the mausoleum there was a small box on the left that looked a bit like a silver pay telephone, minus the actual phone.

They require exact change, so we opted to hit the café for a coffee and some coins first. We walked around the center football field and tennis courts, passed the covered Bocce court, and into the little café. I proceeded to have my misadventure with the bathroom while Ron got me a cocoa and himself an espresso. I returned to find him sitting at a folding table in a room with 20 Italian men playing cards. We apparently had found the Italian version of the Kiwanis Club. Ron drank his espresso, which he was loving where ever we went, and I found that other than my Giuliani’s Dixie-cup cocoa, the rest of them were getting progressively thicker. To the point where this latest cup basically required a spoon. Hot chocolate pudding. Interesting concept.

So, with exact change in hand, we returned to the mausoleum and paid for the electric light. It really was spectacular and the mosaics lit up nicely.

By this point it was dark, and raining. So we ran down a few blocks to a bus stop and grabbed a bus back to the hotel for a quick rest. We had an exceptional dinner tonight, probably the best we had in Rome. And afterwards we walked to Giuliani’s where we partook of pastry delights (I had my mostest favoritest canolli), espresso and some Limoncello until they closed down at midnight.