The quality of Venice that accomplishes what religion so often cannot is that Venice has made peace with the waters. It is not merely pleasant that the sea flows through, grasping the city like tendrils of vine, and, depending upon the light, making alleys and avenues of emerald and sapphire, the City is a brave acceptance of dissolution and an unflinching settlement with death. Though in Venice you may sit in courtyards of stone, and your heels may click up marble stairs, you cannot move without riding upon or crossing the waters that someday will carry you in dissolution to the sea.
 – Mark Helprin, American writer, from The Pacific and Other Stories

I was really sad to leave Piazza al Serchio and our wonderful villa. Again, I wished I had one more day. I would have spent it outdoors, reflecting by the pool with the Tuscan hills before me. I would have convinced David to drive around and look for perfect photographic opportunities. Aside from Roma, and despite objection from family and friends, the Internet connection for me here was faithful and I was able to catch up with my Firenze posts, though at a cost – less time to enjoy the view outside.

The best view that we could capture on our way down the mountainside.

Well, again, that just means I must return. Our drive down the mountain was as beautiful as it was stomach churning for Jacob. I usually get carsick, but I think the beauty of the landscape was my antidote for carsickness. At any rate, I was disappointed we didn’t return the way we came because there is a spectacular stone bridge that I was hoping to capture. We did come across a beautiful and strange plateau and horses let loose on the streets on a quiet stretch of road.

When we turned a hairpin corner, we came upon a scene not unlike the scene in The Polar Express, but with horses instead of caribou.

We, especially a delighted Isabella, stop for horses.

While I was looking forward to seeing Venezia again, I also had to brace myself for the onslaught of tourists and tour guides again. After such a peaceful time in the Tuscan mountains, this was a shock to the system. Not only that, but we had to deal with the outrageous prices that go hand in hand with a major tourist destination. That said, David was extremely relieved to return the rental car at the Marco Polo airport and surrender the Fiat keys and his driving duties.

Jacob enjoying the water taxi ride from the airport as we head into Venezia.

Gondola, gondola!

Bridge of Sighs.

David and me with the Bridge of Sighs in the background.

Detail from the Bridge of Sighs.

Detail from another bridge.

Detail from a column in Piazza San Marco.

Pigeon on head over archway in Piazza San Marco.

Archway in Piazza San Marco.

Still, I was excited and charmed by the canals, the plentiful bridges, the lapping water, the old buildings of stone and peeling paint, the Doges Palace or Palazzo Ducale, and Piazza San Marco. Again, I wanted the kids to experience Venezia, so we went to the Museo Correr and the palace.

In the Museo Correr, a splendid ballroom.

Detail of painting in the Museo Correr.

Another opulent room in the museum.

My kind of library – beautiful Venetian glass chandelier, wooden bookcases, and old books – in the museo.

Inside the courtyard of the Doges Palace or Palazzo Ducale.

The basilica behind the palazzo.

The stairwell to this statue was closed off. David says he looks like Paul Newman.

Columns in the courtyard.

A view across San Marco Basin from an upstairs window in the palazzo.

The view prisoners got before retiring to their dank and windowless stone prison cells. They were heard to sigh, and that’s why the bridge is called the Bridge of Sighs.

More courtyard ceiling.

Back of statue from the now cordoned-off part of the balcony. Last visit we were able to access the area. Too bad.

View of the San Marco Basin from atop the Palazzo Ducale.

Our hotel, the Nuovo Teson, is right off of San Marco Basin, so we didn’t have to carry our roller bags too far (it’s against the law now to use roller luggage on the cobblestone streets of the city). Our room is teeny, but that’s part of the experience of Italy. We don’t have a great direct room with a view, but if I lean out of the window and face left, I can see water.

Our hotel.

Our room with a view – to the right – the waters of San Marco Basin.

A tight squeeze!

We had dinner right around the corner, in a restaurant called Venezia Al Vecio Portal, with a garden in the back. Of course, we had to order seafood, with David ordering squid and me ordering spaghetti seafood. We knew we picked well – with a recommendation from the hotel clerk – because while we were joined by tourists, we were surrounded by locals.

Stone cat on a stone bench near our table in the garden.

Spaghetti seafood.

Still getting along after more than two weeks on vacation.

After dinner, which was after nine in the evening, we wandered through the maze of streets, away from the main arteries of the city. We came upon empty streets and quiet canals – all very lovely and soothing. This is how I wanted to enjoy the city. And I got my wish.

Note: Venezia during the week is quiet after 10pm.

Venezia as I wanted to see it.

“Meanwhile, Florence was increasingly becoming, for different reasons that were not foreign to one another nor opposed – artistic and cultural on the one hand and political on the other – the Mecca of travelers and foreign residents.”
 – Franco Cardini, Italian historian specializing in the Middle Ages, from A Short History of Florence

It always seems to be the case while traveling that you wish you could stay just one more day at every city or destination. Such was the case in Roma, Napoli, and now Firenze. Luckily, we did have a say in when we could leave because we had one quick trip to see the Leaning Tower of Pisa and then on to our Tuscany villa in hilly Piazza al Serchio, which is 60km from the Medieval town of Lucca.

A panoramic view of the Medici Chapel’s interior.

The dome.

We were able to get to the Medici Chapels (Cappelle Medicee), which again was a short walk from the Hotel Giglio. Part of the Chapel of Princes was under renovation, but it didn’t take away from the splendor that the Medici family did not hold back on in terms of hiring the best artists and sculptors to create masterpieces in their name. The tombs of the Medici family members are scattered throughout the Church of San Lorenzo. According to Rick Steves, the architecture, tombs, and statues are almost entirely created by Michelango, who lived with them when he was in his teens. An exhibit on the main floor as you enter includes many “reliquiarios” of various family members. Upon closer examination, I realized what “reliquiarios” mean. Various parts of the body, mostly bones, are housed within these elaborate containers made of silver and other precious materials.

Somebody’s bone lies within this glass container….

One of the tombs in the main chapel.

Another tomb.

Intricate mosaic detail of a panel at the altar.

Michelangelo’s famous statues – Night and Day, and Dusk and Dawn – decorate the Medici tombs in the New Sacristry, located off of the Chapel of Princes. David pointed out that in Night and Day Michelangelo’s signature was the mask tucked under Night’s left arm. We got there just in time – as soon as we finished up taking photographs, a group of art students came in and other groups of tourists were lining up to enter. We were lucky in that we had the chapels mostly to ourselves.

Michelangelo’s Night and Day.

Michelangelo’s signature on Night and Day – the mask.

Michelangelo’s Dawn and Dusk.

Our next destination was the Palazzo Medici-Riccardi, home of Lorenzo the Magnificent, which also includes the Chapel of the Magi. Renaissance art adorns the chapel and includes frescoes by Benozzo Gozzoli. The Medici family originally occupied the house, which was built in 1444, but in the 1700s the Riccardi family took over and added its Baroque signature to the home’s style. I enjoyed the garden and courtyard. I especially was in awe of the Galleria, which features frescoes on the ceiling by famed Neapolitan artist Lucca Giordano and shows off the Baroque style, which interestingly I find too ornate, but the room was pretty spectacular.

The Palazzo Medici-Riccardo courtyard.

The garden with statues.

The Baroque-styled Galleria.

Painting detail in the palazzo.

Chandeliers hang from high ceilings that are ornately decorated.

On our way back from the last of our shopping in Firenze, I was determined to have one last gelato. But I wanted real gelato and not Americanized gelato, which is basically American ice cream. We were near a couple of corner gelaterias that showed off their mounds of “gelato.” When I spied a tiny obscure gelateria, I made a beeline, knowing that this place had to serve the real deal. And happily, it was real gelato! Both Jacob and Isabella admitted that they could taste the difference between today’s gelato and what we had been eating since arriving in Firenze. When I asked them to tell me what was different about this gelato, Jacob responded, “Intense burst of flavor.” I got almond gelato for the first time, and I, indeed, savored the intense flavor of almonds with every precious bite. I was quite content to leave Firenze, knowing that I had real gelato. A small pleasure, but nonetheless a pleasure.

The real McCoy!

We checked out of Hotel Giglio, which had taken very good care of us. Marco the morning clerk moved our cars and hopefully we won’t get any tickets two months from now. While Internet connectivity was really terrible, the hospitality, the charm, and even the Americanized breakfasts – meaning they consisted of more than just a hard roll – were worth high praise in their guest book. I was sad to drive out of Firenze, but I know I’ll come back – sooner rather than later.

A panoramic view of our room at the Hotel Giglio.

The drive to Pisa was perhaps an hour and a half at the most. We were warned that there isn’t much in Pisa other than the Leaning Tower. It was a very hot day and tourists and tourist buses were spilling into the area. We didn’t pay the 20 euros to walk up the tower. Instead, we were content with taking photographs and yes, doing the tourist pose of holding up the tower. It’s one of those things that if it’s on the way, you might as well see it, and then you can say, “Hey, I saw the Leaning Tower of Pisa.” We had lunch in one of the restaurants right off of the square, and then we hightailed it out of there. We made it to our Tuscany hillside villa of Piazza al Serchio while it was still light outside. But while reaching our destination happened Thursday later afternoon, I’m going to save that episode for the next day’s blog entry.

The Leaning Tower of Pisa, the only thing in town worth seeing.

David’s artsy tower photograph.

The church, which sits in-between the baptistery and the tower.

Isabella and Jacob with the tower.

The tower is next to a church and a baptistery.

Yes, I shamelessly participated in the photo op of holding up the tower.

Beach Blanket Babylon-esque photo of Isabella and me wearing a Leaning Tower of Pisa “hat.”

“Don’t you agree that, on one’s first visit to Florence, one must have a room with a view?”
– E.M. Forster, British novelist, essayist, and short story writer, from A Room with a View

We got back into our rented Fiat as early as we could and left Napoli with some trepidation. Back onto the bumpy road leading us out of Napoli and onto the autostrada, the Italian highway, and relying on our unreliable GPS with the British voice. But now we understood that we were not to pay attention to her wrong “take the first right turn” commands and instead to look at the map on the screen. I was told the speed limit in Italy is 80, and so that was how fast David and Mike drove. For Italians, the speed limit is meant to be broken by some 10 to 20 mph. I don’t know what’s worse – having an Italian bearing down behind you on the autostrada or being in a city street where three cars are converging into one lane. We took a stop at a rest stop, which is not unlike the typical rest stops in the States. The difference is better food, relatively speaking, and more tourists from different nations.

The Basilica di Santa Maria del Fiore and the Duomo, which was begun in 1296 and completed in 1436.

The view of the Bargello.

The drive from Napoli to Firenze was under five hours. As we headed into Tuscany country, I couldn’t help by attempt to sing Puccini’s O Mio Babbino Caro, the version sung by Kiri Te Kanawa from the motion picture soundtrack A Room with a View – one of my all-time favorite movies. Luckily the kids had their headphones on. David suffered a different fate. Then I attempted to spout off lines from the movie (I’d forgotten many of them, so I enlisted Google when I could get Internet access): “What is it that makes lady novelists reach such summits of absurdity?” (attributed to Cecil Vise); “In my small way I am a woman of the world. And I know where things can lead to.” (Charlotte Barlett); “Smell! A true Florentine smell. Inhale, my dear. Deeper! Every city, let me tell you, has its own smell.” (Eleanor Lavish); “A young girl, transfigured by Italy! And why shouldn’t she be transfigured? It happened to the Goths!” (Eleanor Lavish); “Mother doesn’t like me playing Beethoven. She says I’m always peevish afterwards.” (Lucy Honeychurch) “Naturally, one would be . . . stirred up.” (Reverend Beebe). “Women like looking at a view. Men don’t.” (Mr. Emerson).

Another view of the Duomo with more of the city as a backdrop. It just doesn’t get old.

I digress. Suffice to say, the drive through the Tuscan countryside – the lush green hills, the cypress and olive trees, and the stone palazzi rising from the landscape – made me realize how much I was looking forward to returning to Florence. The food, the history, the art, the Arno River, the Ponte Vecchio, the Uffizi and the rest of the amazing museums. Just being in the city, anywhere, one has a view.

The Arno River from the top of the Palazzo Vecchio.

Back to our GPS system, which somewhat failed us in that it overshot us past our hotel, we drove into a restricted area of the city. Our friend Charles let us know that cameras catch you driving into these areas and send you a ticket several months later outlining violations you never knew you had committed – for him to the tune of $200. We did not want to repeat his mistakes! The morning clerk at our Hotel Giglio (85 Via Cavour), blocks away from San Marco Piazza and the Accademia, talked us into giving him our car keys and allowing him to move the car one step ahead of the polizia, which he assured us was 95 percent safe. With some misgivings, we surrendered the car keys.

Our hotel in Firenze.

Our room with a view – three flags, one bearing the Firenze insignia.

On our balcony, looking toward San Marco Piazza, the Cuomo, Ponte Vecchio, and the Arno River.

We unloaded our luggage in our hotel room, which was very spacious with high ceilings, a large bathroom by older hotel standards, and one comfortable queen bed and two twin beds. Admittedly, I feel like I’m in a monastery, but I love the old world feel, the A Room with a View austerity with antiquity sensibility. We went in search of a restaurant for a late lunch and settled at Trattoria Za Za (Piazza del Mercator Central, 055 215 411). Of course, I ordered the ribollita, a traditional Tuscan hearty soup made of bread and vegetables. David ordered pappardelle with wild boar. While his pasta was good, if a bit gamey, my ribollita reminded me of how much I loved it the first time I tried it in Firenze 18 years ago. I feel obliged to say that David’s ribollita runs neck and neck with Trattoria Za Za’s classic soup.

The charming and rustic Trattoria Za Za – our first meal in Firenze.

Tuscan ribollita!

We ate inside, but just outside was the traditional outdoor seating with an open-air market on the other side of the piazza.

David ordered pappardelle with wild boar.

Open-air market in Firenze.

After lunch, we took to the open-air markets for some shopping and then we made our way to Santa Maria del Fiore and its famous Duomo, which looks like a lavish wedding cake and which one can never take too many photographs of. We were assaulted, and I don’t use the word loosely, by hordes of tourist groups, mostly Japanese and surprisingly a lot of Americans. At times, ugly Americans. But enough about the tsunami of tourists.

David and me in front of the Duomo’s doors.

For me, what I love about Roma and Firenze is turning a corner and running into a famous monument, so that your breath is taken away the moment your eyes meet marble, stone, a piece of monumental art. And so it was in Firenze. You could see the familiar yet other-worldly deep-orange, herringbone-patterned, brick and marble Duomo. It’s a comforting sight to see and the perfect touchstone and compass to let you know where you are and where you need to be.

The Baptistery doors, which Michelangelo said were fit to be the gates of paradise, are a copy of Lorenzo Ghiberti’s bronze doors.

We ventured to the Piazza della Signora, which is in front of the Palazzo Vecchio. Again, Kiri Te Kanawa’s voice swelled all around me as I took in the view of the famous statues on the square. How many different angles and number of photographs can you take of each statue? Again, an infinite number.

The Fountain of Neptune by Bartholomew Ammannati (1575) at the Piazza della Signora.

The Rape of the Sabine Women by Giambologna.

Perseus with the Head of Medusa by Cellini (1554).

Medici lion by Fancelli and Vacca (1598).

We took in the Palazzo Vecchio and all that art that Medici power and money can buy. It’s quite impressive. We ventured up the tower, which I believe consisted of 240 steps to the near top (the narrow winding steps to the very top was closed to the public, thank goodness). With every landing, I thought we had reached the top because every view of the Duomo was magnificent. But with each landing, there was yet another set of steps. Once we got to the top, the windy was whipping around and we had to catch our breath and rest our throbbing calves. But the view, the view. Breathtaking.

At the entrance of the Palazzo Vecchio, a copy of David on the left.

The main room of the Palazzo Vecchio, which serves today as the town hall.

Fun detail of a goat in one of the paintings at the Palazzo Vecchio.

Detail of a painting in the Palazzo Vecchio.

See the fine details and handiwork of the mosaic panels in one of the Medici daughters’ chest of drawers.

We ventured to the archaeological dig exhibit, which is beneath the Palazzo Vecchio. A Roman amphitheater was discovered there and work is ongoing to uncover it. That means the next time we visit we’ll see more of this amazing structure. We were tired and yet not that hungry after the museum visit. We made the unfortunate choice of settling for pizza and panini at a café right off a main street radiating from the Duomo. This was not real Italian pizza or panini. And the gelato was not gelato. I repeat: it was not gelato but ice cream, perhaps made this way to please the tourists. If you have to scoop it instead of using a spatula, if your tubs are mounded sky-high with so-called “gelato,” and if you don’t get a burst of intense flavor, I assure you, coming from this gelato aficionado, you are not eating gelato. I’m yearning for some Roma gelato. But I don’t want to end on a low note on our first night in Firenze. Walking out of our hotel and into the streets or vias of Firenze, I felt as if I were reunited with an old friend. And, indeed, I was.

At the top of the tower of the Palazzo Vecchio with the Duomo in the background.