Florence or bust

MAY 16 CRESPELLANO—Another early morning spent chasing the cats out of our room. The Mimi is insane. She gets up at five and doesn’t stop for two hours. We finally just kicked her out and locked the door. Sasha was allowed to stay. I just hoped she didn’t have to take a whiz because I know where she would be aiming.

After coffee and the obligatory baling of the cat hair floating about an inch over the floor in our apartment, I suggested we take a drive down to Florence for the afternoon. Some hemming and hawing later, Stefania agreed and we loaded up the Micra with a bottle of water, my camera and my computer bag to carry it in. The boss wanted to drive so we head out through the hazy late morning sun towards the Autostrada A1 (Interstate highway). I had managed to avoid this pleasure so far, but not today. This is actually a beautiful drive on a beautifully manicured highway that cuts throught the Apennines. There are incredible vistas with Italian cypresses dotting the hills as the trellised elevated highway snakes throgh valleys and villages. There are also many ‘gallerie’ (tunnels) that one must navigate. These are really scary, especially when Stef is driving. Yikes!

It seemed like half of Germany decided to go on vacation. There were more German cars than Italian ones. The motorcyclists on the Autostrad are absolutely insane; they will weave through traffic at 150 km/h in gallerie. One mistake and that’s the end of you. Stefania is an okay driver but gets nervous with the combination of motorcyslists and slow grannies chugging along in their ancient Fiat Pandas. The Autostrada from Bologna to Firenze (Florence) takes about an hour and costs ten bucks in tolls. All of the Autostrade are toll roads.

Traffic wasn’t too bad apart from the Teutonic invasion. We pulled in to Florence with the clouds and a few drops of rain. Johnny the Sherpa loaded up and we parked the car not too far from the Arno River and just outside the Porte of the center city. A short hike brought us to the edge of the river where we got our bearings and hung a left towards the Ponte Vecchio, the famous covered bridge that is home to many a fine jewler.

There was a sea of tourists. Lots of Americans. In fact the first Americans I had seen in a month. It’s weird to hear American English after so much time. We fought our way through the crowds like salmon going up the Columbia River. I wanted to get to the other side and take some pics and also look at the apartment we stayed in after we got married in 1998.

The apartment was still there but we were hungry so we sidled up to a caffe’ and ordered a couple of sandwiches and a beer. Prices are outrageous in tourist areas so we kept it pretty basic. It is just amazing the amount of small streets and shops that go off in every direction. Every corner brings some new revelation. All of the side streets are lined with small clothes boutiques and artisans’ ateliers. Leather and ceramics are big specialties in Florence. Looking back across the Ponte Vecchio the landscape is dominated by the top dome of the Duomo. We snaked our way through a maze of streets with Stefania of course stopping in every shop along the way. Nothing new there—you see just as many dejected-looking men sitting in stores holding their wives’ purses as you do at home.

This called for in-flight refueling so we stopped by Vivoli, the most famous gelateria (ice cream store) in Florence for a little chocolate ice cream. After the pit stop, we split up and met back at the Duomo which looks as big as the Superdome. We couldn’t find each other so we had to use our phones to navigate the huge crowds. It was getting late so we decided to head on back to Bologna. But first we stopped at an ‘edicola’ (newspaper stand) off the Piazza della Repubblica where I found an International Herald Tribune; my first news in English since my arrival apart from a few minutes on the web.

We got back to the car and luckily had not gotten a ticket. The trip back on the Autostrada was quite peaceful. It was dusk and a front was moving through shrouding the hilltops in a dense blanket of fog and bringing an intermitent chilly rain. The Micra is cool because it is a smart car that has sensors that detect how much rain is on the windshield and turns the wipers on and off accordingly.
Luck was with us and the traffic was light. I drove at about 110 km/h even though the limit is 150 because the road is very winding and because of the inclement conditions. Plus, when you’re paying about 5 bucks at the pump you lift the foot off the gas a bit more.

Home was still there and the cats had mercifully not had a party in our absence. I settled in for a nice pasta dinner and my Herald Tribune with the Sasha on my lap. We used drive to Lawrence or Parkville on the weekends, now we go to Florence or Verona. Not bad after a week at home by myself. Membership has its advantages (and disadvantages but lets keep it positive here).