Luka (Florence - Lucca)

Yes, dear reader, it's a transit day. Spoiler alert, all went smoothly. Our hotel, the Mercure Firenze Centro had the very civilised check-out time of 12pm which allowed for a most relaxed start to the day. We commenced  packing prior to searching for breakfast. There were three easy options, a café towards the station where we had not been, the Mercato Centrale where we were regulars on our last trip or the café where we had breakfast on day 1.

It's a transit day so we opted for proximity and familiarity and strolled the short distance to the nearest café. The lady who served us last time was nowhere to be seen so we sat at a table outside and waited. Nothing. No noise. No movement. Someone else went inside, several people came and went and then we heard the sound of the coffee machine. The customer inside had been served. It was fortunate we were not in a hurry because no one had come near us. Jayne decided to investigate and discovered that there was no food, just coffee. Curious. We set sail for the Mercato just around the corner.

Unlike our visit at lunch time earlier in the week it was much quieter. We wandered around to see what options were available and had a French style breakfast of pain au chocolat and espresso. In my case two double espressos. The lady who delivered the caffe offered sugar and when Jayne declined she said "I like you". The seal of approval from a local. Given we're competing with thousands of tourists, the bar is probably not set that high.

Back at the hotel we finished packing, wasted some time, checked out and walked to Santa Maria Novella for a 12:37pm regional train to Lucca. Regional trains are not fun, dear reader, because they have no walk-in space like NSW trains. There is an open area, without seats and either end of the carriage that has stairs to the seating area. The middle section has an upstairs and downstairs section. There is no storage area for suitcases. The luggage racks above the seats can take a small backpack or bag but even a carry-on suitcase would be too large. Fortunately our train was not crowded and we scored a seat at the beginning of the downstairs seats where the aisle is wider. Jayne sat on the aisle and held onto her bag to stop it from rolling away and I jammed mine in front of me.

Arty shot.

The train was about 10 minutes late arriving in Lucca and, as instructed, we gathered at the station bar and waited for Drew and Alex to turn up with the transport.

Not our villa.

The villa is set on a hill about 15 minutes from Lucca itself. Unlike many villas in the area, the render is not painted Tuscan gold but is a salmon pink colour. Drew told us on the drive that it has a 'wow' factor and it certainly does. The views across the valley are stunning. The downstairs area has the kitchen and lounge area as well as massive dining room and eating area off the kitchen. The two floors above contain the bedrooms, all with en suites, and other sitting areas.

The dining room.

Downstairs lounge area.

We had drinks al fresco before a delicious dinner of pork belly and baked veggies, before retiring for the night. I woke to the sound of thunder rolling across the valley. Breakfast was fresh fruit, muesli and toast with tomato or ham and cheese. It is impossible to go hungry on one of Matt's tours.

Al fresco drinking.

Al fresco dining.

Cooking classes in Spain last year were cramped due to lack of space. The kitchen in the villa is able to accommodate the 18 guests as Matt talks us through different dishes. Today we made a series of dishes that would be used throughout the week. Basil parfait, caponata, the sauce for chicken cacciatore, basil oil, gluten free orange almond cake, chicken ballottine, confit garlic, basil panna cotta, chicken liver parfait and other things I can't remember now.

The centre of the action.

The first community prepared meal.

The weather, which has been brilliant, turned this morning; rain and low cloud accompanied the thunder, so spending the morning in the kitchen wasn't a bad thing.

After enjoying the fruits of our labour for lunch, we all had some down time before the scheduled afternoon/evening activities in Lucca, including a wander around the town and a Puccini concert, a mandatory experience given this town is his birthplace.

The gate to the old town.

We loaded into the trucks and were transported the 15 minutes into town. Like many of the towns in Tuscany Lucca has a perimeter wall and the old town is enclosed behind. The town itself is deceptively large and our walk through and wander around didn't really do it justice. The streets are narrow and cobble stoned and lined with shops of all ilk. In the area we walked, via Fillungo, they were mostly name brand. There were churches on every corner and piazzas and restaurants and bars everywhere.

How unusual, a church with fresco.

As we walked into one piazza we could hear Billy Joel's Piano Man being performed by, we assumed, a busker. As we came closer we could see that the performer was dressed as Spiderman. While it wasn't overly hot he must have been melting in his suit. Piano Man on unaccompanied guitar. Interesting, but he made it work.

You had to be there.

Lucca looks like a town worth much more time than we have to offer this time around. There is a great deal to explore and a relaxed lifestyle to go with it.

The Puccini concert was a pianist and two singers, a soprano and the program said baritone, I thought tenor. The performance space was a church so the acoustics were amazing. They performed 9 pieces in all from different Puccini operas. He remains the most performed opera composer in the world. Impressive I guess. While I can appreciate the talent and the training and practice required, opera is really not my thing. That said, I wouldn't have missed it. You can't visit the birthplace of one of the world's most famous composers and not attend a recital of his work.

Back at the villa it was time for more food. A "light" dinner and a few glasses of wine before bed.

It's been a big two days. The best news is that we do not need to plan anything for the next week. Matt, Drew and Alex have everything covered.

Oh, I almost forgot the title of today's post, Suzanne Vega with Luka from 1987. Yes I know dear reader Lucca and Luka are not spelt the same, but hey, after 540 posts sometimes inspiration can be hard to find.

Alla Prossima.

Walking Man (Florence, Day 2)

No sleep in today, dear reader. The reworked plan has us down at the Arno in the morning and then visiting several churches across Florence and for diversity, a library, before ending up at the English Cemetery. A round trip of over 10km. At some point we are pausing for coffee and a bite to eat. And no doubt a beer around lunch time.

We were out the door at 8:30am. Oh, don't go on, dear reader; that's early when you're just attuning to a new time zone. The streets are much less crowded at that time of the morning, although the snaking lines of sheep following flags were still about. We were down by the Arno in no time to take some snaps of the Ponte Vecchio. You could clearly see how jammed it was with people already. The Santa Trinita bridge is supposed to be one the best spots from which to photograph the famed Ponte Vecchio. Maybe at dawn, or in the twilight hours. Otherwise you are shooting straight into the sun. I managed better photos last visit from further up river.

Ponte Vecchio from the  Santa Trinita.

Looking in the other direction.

First item ticked off the list, it was time to double back to the Sassetti Chapel, a hundred metres or so down the road. We stood outside the door to read the information panel. The most important part was: Closed Tuesday. Yes, it's Tuesday. Jayne was not happy. In the reorganisation of today's trek through Florence, she had studiously checked each website to ensure they were open and at what time.

Read it and weep.

Item 2 on the list. A big red cross. What we missed was a notable series of frescoes depicting the life of St Francis of Assisi. Maybe next time.

Not today.

On to our next destination which was the Biblioteca. Well, we were both English teachers in another life. The real reason this was a destination ... they have a café, thinking breakfast. Moreover, the café has a view directly across to the Duomo. After misreading the 'do not enter' sign on the lift, we trudged up the three stories. The people in the café were enthusiastic in their welcome and we settled on our order and went back outside and up a couple of stairs to the open area that looked across to the cathedral.

Worth the climb?

To be honest I expected more. The vista of the Duomo is vast and mostly uninterrupted, but I foolishly thought we may be higher and see more of the cathedral itself. Anyway, the panini were very good and the coffee most welcome. Checking the lift signage again I noticed, this time, that the 'do not enter' was in case of fire. Jayne caught the lift down to the ground floor.

Three down. Our next stop was the Basilica della Santissima Annunziata. The square outside the church has been used in a number of films about Florence. Inside the rather uninspiring building is an amazing opulent space. It had more than a dozen lavish side altars, the ceiling blazed with gold, the feature above the tabernacle was a silver construction and reflected light into darkened spaces. It was unusual and breathtakingly extravagant.

A fresco in the portico.

Looking towards the altar.

We waited outside for the service or singing practice to conclude before entering - despite the website stating it was open from 8:00am till 12:30pm, there were signs blocking access. As we were leaving as mass was about to commence and the 'do not enter' signs were back in place. I stepped aside as one couple just moved around the sign to enter the church and I'm pretty sure they weren't there to pray.

No idea who this is, but I love the sneer.

The baldachin (the ceiling fresco above the altar).

As religious fervour overtook me, we commenced our journey to our next destination, Sant'Apollonia. Things were going smoothly despite the rocky start, but Jayne's paper map is not drawn to scale and certainly doesn't show all the streets. So, we ended up walking quite an unnecessary distance because we followed the map. In the heat.

We arrived at Sant'Apollonia, the fifth stop on our list. It is the home to a cloistered order of Benedictine nuns. They have opened up the former refectory because it contains frescos and art works that are worth the extra effort to find. We were the only visitors at the time. The person overseeing entry was more than helpful and Apollonia the kitten was happy to see us too.

The resident cat Apollonia.

The main attraction was not the kitten (sorry Min) but a painting of the Last Supper by Andrea del Castagno. It was painted well before the famous da Vinci version and is considered the first Renaissance depiction of this subject matter.

The other Last Supper.

This concluded our morning meandering because our last destination did not open its gates until 3pm. We headed for the hotel and a watering hole on the way. The latter proved to be no easy task and we ended up in our 'eat street' 100 m from home. The young person serving was lovely and we chatted about our afternoon's destination and where we might have dinner, as we enjoyed our hard earned beer.

No need for a caption.

We had a brief respite from the sun, back at the hotel before setting out once again for the last attraction on our list. Perhaps attraction is not the right word. I did not know this place existed when we were last in Florence, although it certainly did. It's been there since the mid 1800s. I'm referring to the English Cemetery that I first heard referenced in the film Tea with Mussolini. It's most famous resident is Elizabeth Barrett Browning. You know, of "How do I love thee? Let me count the ways" fame.

The cemetery is about 1.5km form the hotel and Florence is flat so it should have been an easy walk. Except the footpaths are not really made for pedestrian traffic; they are too narrow. So it was a journey of ducking and weaving, on the pavement, on the road, cross the road, until we arrived at a massive road redevelopment. It was like a medieval castle moat and separated us from the cemetery.

From the entrance.

Fortunately there was a barricaded way through. It reminded me of the mazes we used run the rats though at uni (first year Psych). Once the traffic was negotiated, the cemetery opened before us and proved to be, well, underwhelming. It was smaller than expected - one side of a hill. It was also packed (with occupants, not tourists) and navigating between graves was no easy task. The gardeners had obviously been through recently with the brushcutter, but that was about the extent of the upkeep.

EBB's tomb.

Ms Barrett Browning's tomb was easily located to the side of the main walk. We had much more difficulty locating Edith Piaf in Père Chase in Paris. Old cemeteries always hold such interesting information about the time period, but not this one. Headstones were difficult to read and may have provided some information about the time period, but like those buried beneath, it was lost in time.

And that was our big day of walking. We clocked up around 12km. Which brings us to today's title, Walking Man by the great James Taylor. Man being used in a generic sense to encompass all people, of course.

The only thing left to do was dinner. After much discussion, we returned to Osteria de Medici, secured a table, ordered our food and watched the line of people queueing for a table grow. Dinner, a caprese salad, seafood risotto and wild boar ragu pappardelle, was excellent.

As we sat in our room that evening we were entertained by some live jazz music coming from the rooftop of a nearby hotel. Free concert. An excellent way to conclude a very tiring day.

Tomorrow we are in transit to Lucca to meet Matt and his team and the other travellers for our Tuscany food and wine tour. After a good night's sleep of course.

Alla prossima. 

Why can't the English? (Florence, Day 1)

Another slowish start to the day. New hotel, different bed, air con and those ridiculously thick doonas all take adjustment time. Nonetheless, dear reader, we did not have a huge amount planned for the day. The Palazzo Medici Riccardi that we reconnoîtred yesterday is pretty much it. Aside from general wanderings through the Florentine streets. New sun glasses are on the menu after I managed to partially destroy my existing pair. I tucked them into the waistband of my pants and they were jagged by my backpack as I hoisted it onto my shoulders. They'd still be fine if my right ear and eye were 5cm lower than the corresponding anatomy of the left side. There you go, the right always causing trouble. I'm thinking the ICAC inquiry again.

From our hotel door, the next street off Via Nazionale contains all manner of eateries so we decided to try breakfast there. We opted for the establishment next to the café that sells the cow stomach panini. Yeah, still no. A ham and cheese toastie with three slices of bread, a glass of OJ and an espresso all for €6. Bargain. And a seat outside in the early morning sun so we could people watch as we ate. The coffee was good. The first one since the plane to Muscat.

The unassuming doorway to the Palazzo.

From there, we walked to the palazzo and arrived slightly before our 10am ticket time. It wasn't particularly crowded then or as we left because it is probably not that well known. There were plenty of art students, but few tourists like us. I'm OK with that because it made our experience more enjoyable, not being jostled or assailed by people using outdoor voices indoors. That is, except for three ladies who work there and had an extremely animated discussion about the state of the carpet in the state rooms as we edged past them. Clearly the boss lady was not happy and the other two were simultaneously responding and gesticulating about the offending marks.

They love a chandelier.

The altar in the chapel.

As with the palazzo we visited in Rome, this one is still a functioning building and has other uses beyond tourism. I'm not sure if anyone lives there but it is certainly has a role in civic duties. There is/was a police station on the ground floor. One bedroom is preserved for the exclusive use of the Italian President whenever they are in town, although the bed looked pretty lumpy and uncomfortable.

I wouldn't sleep there.

Like so many of these buildings, it is constructed around a garden replete with orange trees, cooling lawns and the ubiquitous fountain. Originally a Medici palace, it has all the hallmarks you would expect of a power family. There are the ceiling frescos, a gallery of mirrors, a chapel, a room of marble busts, and famous art works. There are also excavations below the current ground floor that delve back to the more distant past. From a white Australian perspective, the history and years it spans are quite remarkable and yet they aren't. There are many of these palazzos throughout Italy.

The ceiling of the gallery of mirrors.

One of the painted mirrors.

After a morning of culture and history, it was time to shop. Well, that part was accidental. The Ponte Vecchio was our target but we were distracted by the need to buy new sunglasses and a crossover bag to carry our phones and stuff when we don't need the backpack.

The courtyard.

Excavations beneath the palazzo, an old sewer.

Sunglasses were secured first and at a bargain price, especially since there is a tax refund as well. It would have cost about $100 more at home. Next stop, a few doors away, Pandora. of course. No trip overseas is complete without a Pandora charm representing the country or area. A Duomo charm and a red Morano glass disc (to replace the one form Venice that died) purchased, it was back to the madding crowd. One look at the roiling masses down near the Ponte Vecchio was enough to turn me in the other direction. Time for bira.

Swimming against the tide we headed to the Piazza del Duomo to a ristorante with cooling overhead water sprays and had two extremely overpriced beers, while listening to someone singing opera in the shadow of the Cathedral dei Santa Maria del Fiore.

The view while enjoying a lunchtime beer.

Next stop was the leather market to obtain a bag and then a swing through the Mercato Centrale. We surveyed a few of the stall holders, one offered a reasonable solution at €36 after discount, another €65 for a similar item, no discount, and the best offer €100 after discount. Ultimately we purchased a bag for €50 near the Mercato from one of the stall holders there. The cheapest offering did not look like leather and the other options were identical.

The Mercato Centrale was as we remembered, crowded and loud. To be fair it was lunch time. The outlets appeared not to have changed much. The pizza guy was still there measuring out his dough, the café was still doing the same business and downstairs was still produce.

Out of that tumult, into a street full of leather vendors and then home to the hotel to enjoy our welcome drinks, blog and plan for tomorrow. Once that was accomplished it was dinner time, pizza. Garbo serve both kinds of pizza, Romano and Napoli. No contest as I have earlier remarked. Pizza ordered, the wine proved more of an issue. They didn't have my first choice and I was directed to a more expensive bottle, of course, what's a couple of euros? Curiously, after the order was placed the server disappeared across the road to the liquor store and returned with the chosen bottle. Pretty sure he could have done that with my initial choice.

Busts in the Medici collection, Nero and Caligula. Is there a message in that?

After a lovely dinner, we strolled to a recommended gelateria, My Sugar, and for dessert, we selected several artisanal flavours, skilfully scooped and piled into our cones. As we wandered home in the Florentine twilight through thinning crowds, consuming our gelatos, two ladies stopped us, inquiring if we spoke English. Although Turkish by birth, they were from the Netherlands and had never met an Australian. They had seen our gelatos and were in fact searching for a particular gelateria, Eduordo's. Unfortunately we couldn't assist them but spent a few minutes chatting to them about our travels in the Netherlands while they told us they loved our accent - so much nicer than the British ... whatever that means.

Of course that was the inspiration for the title of today's post, Why can't the English? from the 1964 musical My Fair Lady, sung by Audrey Hepburn and Rex Harrison. 

Once we made it back to the hotel, Jayne's carefully planned day for tomorrow became upended by inconsistent opening/closing hours of the attractions that we were intending to visit. A complete reorganisation was required as I tapped away at the blog until it was time to retire.

Alla prossima.

Innocent (Rome - Florence)

What wonders a good night's sleep can accomplish, dear reader. Generally, I judge the time by the light, but in a different country, it's not so easy. What I thought was around 6am, judging by the light creeping under the curtains, was actually 8am and it would be another hour before Jayne stirred. When I pulled back the blockout curtains the light was devastatingly, eye-shielding bright.

The view from balcony by day.

Our two nights in Rome were meant as a recovery period from the flights. Transit time from Sydney to Rome was about 40 hours. As a result we had planned only one excursion, a visit to the Galleria Doria Pamphilj, a palace about a 20 minute walk from the hotel. It is still a family 'home' as such but they have opened the gardens and some of the rooms to the public. It has a interesting history dating back to the days of Pope Innocent X, one of the Pamphilj family members whose power and position cemented the family's place in the Roman aristocracy well beyond his death in 1655.

And that brings us to today's title dear reader, Innocent by Taylor Swift from her 2010 album Speak Now.

Armed with her trusty paper map, Jayne steered us there through the hoards of people. Apparently shoulder season doesn't exist anymore and I am beginning to question if there are any Americans left in the US. I mean, I get why they would want to be anywhere else, but still.

A random church doorway.

The idea was to find somewhere to have a coffee and a pastry on the way to the Palace. Great theory. Possibly the roads we travelled were well worn tourists paths but there were precious few cafés that weren't in the full blast of the Roman sun. Before we realised, we were standing outside the gates of the palace, an hour early. Plan adjusted, we would eat afterwards, something light and have dinner near the hotel in a trattoria.

The courtyard.

We wandered through a courtyard garden, past an elegant (read expensive) eatery and along a corridor to ascend a flight of stairs. Here we found a turnstile which marked the entrance to the palazzo proper. We checked if our entry, an hour early, was permissible - it was. So in we went, armed with our audioguides to tour the palazzo. 

A door latch on the velvet wall paper.

Since the palace is still a family home, only particular sections are open to the public. A walk through the rooms reveals of the opulence and wealth of the ruling classes from the 1600s through till today. The ballroom with the parquetry floor and orchestra stand, the chandeliers, the velvet wallpaper, the frescos on the ceilings, leave you in doubt about the wealth of this family.

The ballroom looking towards the art wings.

The four wings of the private art collection are the crowning glory. They have works of Titian, Caravaggio, Garofalo, and Lavinia Fontana the first self-funded female artist in Europe. Her biggest claim to fame was painting the first female nude.

Each wing had a ceiling fresco and there was a hall of mirrors wing, like a mini Versailles. Pretty cool to have in a family home.

The hall of mirrors.

There were numerous paintings and busts of Pope Innocent X. The most remarkable was by Velázquez and is famous not for the subject matter, but for the realism of the portrait. It went against the usual stylised portraiture of the period. And it is a cracker, capturing the sneering arrogance and impatience of man of power, privilege and position. If looks could kill. Apparently the Pope did not like his portrait, remarking, "it's too real".

Pope (not so) Innocent X

There were so many artworks and fortunately only a few had corresponding information on the audio guide, otherwise we would still be there. The halls were decorated with marble busts and sculptures as well. In the centre was a typical Roman courtyard resplendent with orange trees and cooled by a fountain. A lovely respite from the outside world today, let alone the politics of the Renaissance period.

Beyond the art wings was a museum style hall with more art work, marble sarcophagi and other object d'art collected by family members. It is was well worth the visit for the art works alone, but to put it into perspective in terms of position, privilege and power.

The chapel.

I'm sure the proximity of the palace to the Trevi Fountain was of some use 500 years ago. Not so much today. The crowds! The narrow pavement. It was not fun dodging people and mindless sheep following a rag on a stick. 

We had spent over two hours in the palace. It was beer o'clock and time for a light snack before we went back to the hotel. There were plenty of places and most of them were busy or were serving bain marie food. No, no, no. This is Italy. I wanted proper food. Fortunately we stumbled across a small café with tables in a side street in the shade. In the end we sat inside and had a pizza and a beer. I ordered 'grande' for the bira because we'd been walking all morning and on our feet in the palace, expecting a 500cl glass of Moretti. Instead we scored 1 litre. My bad. Or good. it's a perspective thing.

Refreshing.

The capricciosa pizza was very tasty, but lacking olives and artichoke. I know these things are regional, but the olives are a must. Also, I'm a purist. There is only one true style of pizza, Napoli. If you have an hour to kill, I'll bore you with the stylistic differences.

Someone is getting married.

On the way back to the hotel we checked out Roma Termini for a café for breakfast in the morning while we await the train to Florence. As the afternoon disappeared, we contemplated a trattoria for dinner, but ultimately found it unnecessary. We adjourned to the bar for a glass of wine. It was happy hour (of course it goes for two hours) and it was quiet. The staff decided we should eat the bruschetta and pizza slices that would normally be shared with the other patrons. Dinner sorted!

Another day ends.

Early to bed to pack and be fully rested for a transit day.

Roma - Firenze

Once again I slept late. I'll blame the time change. We were packed and out of the hotel by 10:30am for a train at 12:10pm. The walk to Termini is about 5 minutes and when we arrived, we were shocked. There were people everywhere. It was a seething mass of humanity, some of it more seething than others. We witnessed a number of frayed tempers in the heat and chaos (no, it wasn't Brad).

The pre-chosen café was a zoo. There were people and bags jumbled everywhere - no vacant tables and people occupying tables that hadn't been cleaned for a while. The queue to order food for take-away was out the door. Hmmm. Not such a good choice, like thinking Pauline Hanson is the answer.

Downstairs we went because there were other options there. None, however, offered anywhere to sit and eat. In an effort to gouge every cent out of the real estate, available space was given to stores like Sephora and Mango. There were no seats or benches anywhere. The result was hundreds of people, milling around with luggage, hoping to find some respite.

The take away shop we selected had bench space and six stools and we scored. So we sat there and had a light brunch before we ascended to the departure level and waited for our train. PSA: do not turn up to the station more than 20 minutes before your train is due to arrive.

In an interesting manoeuvre, our train was arriving early and departing 5 minutes earlier than our ticketed time. Cheeky. We made it on board, stowed our suitcase above our seats and Jayne was almost wiped out by an ignorant American woman who couldn't wait and pushed past her while she trying to put her backpack in the rack. I mumbled words of insult loud enough for her husband to hear as he followed her down the aisle. Something I'm sure he regrets now.

The Frecciarossa move at speed. The fastest I noted was 248kmh and we were in Firenze at the scheduled time of 1:46pm. Santa Maria Novella was also crowded but not like Rome. We wheeled our bags down the platform, I lost another tyre, and then we were out into the Firenze sunshine.

The hotel is a mere 4 minute walk from the station on via Nazionale. With a grand name like that, you'd think the footpath would be wide, but no. Barely enough room for two people. Tour groups with their long straggling lines made it difficult to get into (and later out of) the hotel.

At check-in, they apologised for not upgrading me but assured me they had provided some extras. Whatever. The room is plenty large enough with a lounge area and desk. We unpacked as much as we intended; living out of packing cells, as I have often remarked, is a game changer. After a brief rest, it was time to brave again the Florentine sun and reacquaint ourselves with the local area. We are not far from where we stayed last time we visited, almost 10 years ago.

Where we stayed last visit is circled.

Jayne had researched places to eat so we went for a wander around to see where the Medici Palazzo was located so we could go straight there after breakfast tomorrow. The restaurants are all very close by, one that is famed for its paninis. I'm not sure I'll be attempting their signature Florentine panini. The 'hero' of the roll is meat. Allegedly. The second stomach of the cow.

It was still warm and we hadn't had a hydrating beer so we did the Florentine thing and opted for a limoncello spritz in the shade.

Limoncello spritz anyone?

After that, it was back to the hotel and then off to dinner, 300 metres away at Osteria Dei Medici, where we dined al fresco on bruschetta, topped with creamy burrata, followed by pici cacio e pepe. It's a hard life but someone has to live it ...

Alla prossima.