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david
and carol
Our Magnificent
Journey | Chapter 1 | Europe 1999 | London, Paris, Venice, Florence |
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Early this morning we have a rude awakening.
Seems a diesel truck has parked just below our room, with its
exhaust pipe about level with, and pointing directly towards,
our window. This truck's mission apparently was to pump sewage
out of a building across the narrow alley, and as it's motors
and pumps ran, it seemed intent on spewing massive amounts of
diesel fumes into our room. Even with the window shut, we were
being fumigated. I had to open our door to try to let some "fresh"
air in, but this did little good. This went on for about 15 minutes.
It was extremely early in the morning, and I could hear other
hotel guests voicing their complaints. Fortunately, but none
too soon, the truck disappeared (I believe Giuseppe chased them
away,) and after a few minutes I opened the window to get some
air moving. I was concerned for Carol, since the air quality
in Firenze had been causing her lungs some distress, mine also.
Eleni was very concerned about us later that morning, and although
the truck had nothing to do with the Hotel Romagna, she was very
apologetic. |
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It seems as though there are no emission control
laws in Italy. Everyone zooms around like greased lightning on
their little motor scooters, each adding their fumes to the heavy
layer of exhaust that often stays hovering in the narrow alleyways
where air flow is not great enough to dissipate it. All in all,
Firenze was quite warm and somewhat "gritty." These
fine centuries-old buildings have layers of crusty grime on them,
and the air quality was somewhat below par, but we wouldn't have
missed any of it for the world. |
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After the truck left, we slept some more,
then got up, showered, and breakfasted in the cozy upstairs dining
area of the hotel - rolls, cereal, juice, coffee, and an excellent
Nutella-like chocolate spread. |
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Then we made a bee-line for the San Lorenzo
marketplace where the leather-vendors are located. Firenze is
noted worldwide for its fine leather. We were looking for a backpack
for me, and a jacket for Carol. We "window-shopped"
for hours. Met a very memorable street character hawking leather
goods - Oscar Wright - from Austin, Texas. Boy did he look Italian.
Among other things, Oscar is a Tango instructor, web designer,
and all-around good-guy travel advisor. We visited with this
colorful character for a while and then browsed the many stalls
carrying wide assortments of leather goods. |
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A young vendor politely caught our attention
at Roberto's leather shop. Olsi was very nice and low-pressure,
and he showed me a beautiful hand crafted bag. I decided I wanted
to look a bit more and think about it. Olsi spelled his name
for us upside down on his calculator, which made us all laugh.
We told him we would most likely be back. |
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We then wandered inside the vast double-story
cast-iron and glass Mercato Centrale, which was fragrant with
stalls of cheeses, wines, oils, seafoods, fruits, flowers, meats,
herbs, spices and wonderful, cheerful, friendly people. Carol
was in heaven. We could have stayed there for hours. After feasting
on all the sights and scents, we drifted back out amongst the
many leather vendors. In and out of shops, searching for a jacket.
When they put the pressure on, we vamoosed. We finally found
ourselves in a nice leather shop where the vibe was casual. Deana,
the owner, patiently helped Carol try on coats in many different
styles, and finally one fit her as if it was made especially
for her. She looked stunning in this soft, black, tapered leather
coat. Then, almost as an afterthought, Deana threw a man's long
black leather coat on me, and we were all in shock at how nice
it looked. Like buttah. After some negotiation we struck a deal
which we all felt was acceptable for the two jackets, took pictures
of Deana, said our goodbyes and took our good-buys excitedly
back to the hotel. On the way it struck us that, given the hot
Tucson summer just coming on, it would be about six months until
we could actually wear these wonderful Florentine leather coats.
Oh well… Perhaps London would be chilly enough… At
the hotel we tried our coats on for Eleni, who inspected and
approved and was pleased. |
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It was lunchtime, so Eleni recommended a couple
of restaurants near the church of Santa Maria Novella, not far
from the hotel. As we arrived, they were closing up, as many
shops and restaurants do at mid-day, so we walked a little farther
and found an open outdoor café where we had great pizza
and Italian beer, plus another tasty Cubano. Then we strolled
across the Arno, window-shopping until we came to the famous
Ponte Vecchio bridge, where we watched the gold sellers ply their
wares. |
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Following the alleyways and piazzas back to
our hotel, we napped until evening. We woke, showered and visited
with Eleni, who encouraged us to try a "non-tourist"
restaurant across the Arno. We walked there just as the golden
setting sun was turning the Arno into liquid fire, and as we
walked across the Ponte alta Carraia, we watched people playing
with their dogs down by the water, perhaps much like people did
400 years ago. We also noticed something very strange and unusual
swimming just under the water. We never did find out what that
was. |
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We found the restaurant, All' Antica Ristoro
Di' Cambi, on Via San Onofrio, 1, and sat outside in the cool
evening air.
We ordered the specialty, Bisteca Fiorentino, with the
robust house chianti. Also had the thinly sliced prosciutto
and funghi (mushroom) appetizer. Very enjoyable dinner
(around $30 U.S.) made special by our table neighbors, Benny
and Susanne, from Sweden. We had a great time swapping stories
and comparing American and Swedish customs and traditions until
we were all tired and it was time to say goodbye. We took photos
of Benny and Susanne and wished our new friends farewell, and
then once again walked across the Ponte Vecchio and into the
now-familiar Piazza della Signoria gathering place where we had
wine and beer and cigars and watched people milling about the
square. The moon was full tonight, and cast its eerie light on
the bell tower. |
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We strolled past the many street vendors,
past the magicians and puppeteers and fire-eaters, past the magnificent
Duomo and the doors of Ghiberti, back to the Hotel Romagna where
we slept with visions of Michelangelo in our heads… |
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copyright 1998 / david
and carol lehrman / all rights reserved |
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email david@davidandcarol.com |
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