Cappuccio, Per Favore!

Sometimes, I forget to listen.  Well, lots of times.  Today, we started at a local caffeteria to get some breakfast.  I almost walked out, because it was wicked crowded and noisy, but then I decided to just stand and see and hear what everyone else was doing.  Here's what I learned:

• You can get all your food, coffee, etc, and then pay for it as you leave.  No need to wait in all those lines right away.
• When faced with imminent disappointment that the cappuccino seems awfully little (they are about 3 or 4 ounces here), just hang tight and listen.  The guy next you just ordered a "cappuccio," and it was lots bigger.  Ah, remember how your daddy called you "carina" when you were little instead of "cara," or called your daughter "nipotina" instead of "nipote?"  Adding the "ina" or "ino" makes it diminutive, so the "cappuccio" is the bigger form of cappuccino!  AHA!
• even if you cannot figure out exactly what each of those pastries are, there isn't a bad one among them - seriously.  Just point at one and you will be a happy girl!
• as packed as the caffeterias are in the morning, and as empty as the shops are (devoid of shopkeepers, that is, for two or three hours) in the afternoon, Italians don't seem to work very much; I may want to move here!

And so, buzzing along on my caffeine-induced high, I hit the streets.  The word for today was LEATHER.  I shopped the leather market stalls, saw the leather school (way overpriced), and then bought a really cute pair of shoes.  Now, maybe, just maybe, my feet can be as cutely covered as the rest of the Florentines.  

I also did a lot of nothing today, walked around a bit, relaxed some more, went shopping with Sara (thus, the shoes), did some "homework" so I could tell Sara my top choices for museums to see next week during our three-day museum blitz, and relaxed some more.  We decided to have a little glass of wine before deciding where to eat, but ended up eating at the wine bar (where we ate the first night), and are hitting the sack early to get up at 4:30 am to head to Rome for the day.

Oh yeah, and I did a load of laundry.  I feel soooooo productive.

Nothing else to report, except that Zeph has stopped saying, "Buongiorno," and replaced it with, "Cinque Terre."  He really needs to be a voiceover on the next Mario Brothers game.

OK, off to bed.  Buona notte!!

Buon giorno!

Florence, day whatever.  If I cannot remember what day it is, that means that vacation mode has been reached successfully!

Last night, Zeph went in to take a shower.  After we heard the water shut off, we suddenly heard his Mario-like voice crack the silence, "Buon giorno!"  (Apparently he was shaving, saw himself in the mirror, and felt a need to practice his greeting).

We all slept poorly last night, but still got up at 6, off walking to the train station at 6:30, on the train at 7, went to Pisa, saw the leaning tower and all that jazz. The phenomenal thing is that, while looking at sculptures in a museum, I saw a placard that claimed the statue I was looking at was from the late 15th century and thought, "Oh, that's almost new..."  Come on, Janine!!  I had already gotten used to mid-12th century stuff.  AND it was not even behind ropes or glass or any protective system.  We could walk right up and really get a gander at it all.  This kind of history just doesn't exist in our country, except in sterile, hands-off places.

Done with Pisa, back on the train, stopped this time in San Miniato, off the train, on to a bus and spent a 45-minute ride careening around tiny streets in tinier Tuscan towns to end up in Staffoli, the birthplace of my nonno.  When the bus driver stopped at the main town square (very small town square), I asked him where Via Bocciardi was.  Somehow, I explained to him in really horrific Italian that my grandfather was born in Staffoli, but died in the states, that my name is Bocciardi, and that I want to see Via Bocciardi.  OH, he says, and waves us back into our seats.  Now, this bus was supposed to stop at the town square and go back towards San Miniato; in fact, there were two young ladies at the stop waiting to jump on the bus to go to San Miniato.  But the driver closed the door, yelled out his window, "Cinque minuti!!" while holding up five fingers, and then zipped up the hill (as much as a bus can zip) and dropped us right at Via Bocciardi.  He then told me that a bus would be by in about an hour from Galleno, and could take us back down the hill and all the way back to San Miniato.  Well, okay then, and grazie!

To travel for a couple hours extra to see it was worth every step (and even the kids agreed).  Standing there in the hills, listening to birds and crickets and chickens, smelling the grass and the warmth (which has a smell), I could almost imagine my grandparents growing up here over a hundred years ago, my grandmother waiting until her father went off on anotherr business trip so that she could run free and bring her cousins over to the villa and eat salami and focaccia in bed and get away with it all (my cousin Adelina, who was my dad's age, used to tell me the stories that her father, my nonna's brother, told her about growing up with my adventurous, wild nonna).  It made all those stories so much more real.  The book in my head now has illustrations!!

(Later, my nonna came to America at the age of 17 with $25 in her pocket, no English, and only her brother Davide, who was 15 or 16, to accompany her....and my mom wonders why I saw one documentary about southeast Asia and decided to go to Cambodia?  Someone has to carry on the tradition!)

So, a few pictures and some time later, we got back on a bus, back to San Miniato, then had a drink in San Miniato before hopping back on the train and coming back to Florence.  Quite the whirlwind day!  Alec and I had a little nap while Sara and Zeph went for a walk, and then we went to dinner.  

Although it is possible to spend large sums of money on meals, we managed to have really awesome pizza, and wine, for about 7 euro each.  Including the wine.  And, once again, this was less than a block from our apartment.  We have had a couple converrsations already about food.  Every single meal we have had has been great, including the inexpensive ones.  We all wonder: Is there any BAD food here?  In the states, it's easy to get crappy food for not much money, and sometimes it's pretty easy to get not-great food for a lot of money, but here it seems that no place would stoop so low as to serve food that isn't amazing.  I am willing to admit that this theory is made more plausible due to the fact that I already have a very loving relationship with cheese, cold cuts, and olive oil.  But it is absolutely possible to eat satisfyingly here for not much money.

All that being said, in a round-robin rotation where the kids and I are kind of taking turns paying for dinners, I somwhow paid 120 euro my night and Alec got to pay 35 euro his night.  Hmmm.....

And, finally, the evening ended with gelato.  I still have the word singing inside my head, to the tune of West Side Story's "Maria."  Grab a cup, walk to the little piazza around the corner from the apartment, and watch the people gather.  Nothing really starts hopping here until 9 pm or so, and eating dinner any time much before 8:30 means you are going to miss all the good action.  I need to start sleeping in later and staying out late at night.  

Tomorrow is a "relax" day (relatively).  Whew!

So, happy day, and I hope that you now have the "gelato" earworm.  My gift to you today!  Enjoy....

Of Food and Feet

There are so many noticeable things in this amazing city, but I feel the need to expound on two this evening, as I sit in our apartment with the kids, recovering from more food and alcohol.

Let me begin with food.  I was up pretty early, but the kids slept late (amateurs), and so we found ourselves heading out around 11 am and stopping at a caffeteria and pasticceria to grab a cappuccino and something for breakfast.  Ohhhhhh.  So, for a total of 10 euros for all 4 of us, we got three coffee drinks and four amazing pastries.  I chose a "torta della nonna," just because of the name, and ended up ecstatically enjoying a custard-filled delicacy with toasted almonds on top.  Even the cappuccino was gorgeous, with the foamy milk poured into an artful swirl of dairy goodness.  Full of Florentine morning happiness, we then set off to find the train station (which will be in tomorrow's activities), see the Duomo, and generally walk about.

As we walked, we all noticied that Italians just wear way nicer shoes than we do.  At one point, a bum passed us on the street (and yes, I mean it; he had long, unwashed hair, shuffled along, smelled awful)...and he had nicer shoes than we did!  I swear.  The women here don't wear high heels, mostly; they would really be impossible on these cobble streets.  But, their flats and sneakers are all fashionable and amazing and expensive-looking.  If I lived here, I would definitely need to buy some more shoes.  In fact, I may just have to snag a pair before I go home, just 'cause.  :-)  Kids?  Nicer shoes than us.  Babies?  Nicer shoes than us.  Horses?  Nicer shoes than us!!

We did see the Duomo today, and bought our museum passes for next week, and bought our train tickets to Pisa for tomorrow, and did a lot of walking and saw a lot of nice shoes.  We went into the Basilica of Santa Maria Novella, and maybe it is the Catholic in me, but if churches in Roseville looked like that, I'd go to church a little more often.  Just standing inside that church made me feel, well, closer to God.  The fact that much of it was built in the 14th century is even more amazing. I lit a candle for my mom, which I do in the first church I go into in ANY foreign city.  

After church touring, we decided to walk back toward the apartment and get something to eat along he way.  We popped into a pizza place, which consisted mostly of focaccia sandwiches.  I had a frittata sandwich of eggs, onions, and spinach.  The focaccia was exactly as I remembered from my childhood: crunchy outside, oily inside, yummy all over.  Zeph had sopressata, which is like salami but with bigger chunks of fat in it (or, as Sara said, "I don't know what this is, but it's really fatty and completely wonderful!")  Alec had fontina and prosciutto speck (which is more like ham), and Sara had mortadella.  Each sandwich was only 2.50 euros - again, really affordable.  

The kids went to the grocery store to get some breakfast foods and staples, and then we sat at the apartment and made plans for tomorrow's trip and read and chatted.  Then, it was time for dinner!!  Egads, the food is ruling us!  We went to another local (less than a block away) place and had more great food, ending with two crepes (one orange and grandmarnier, the other nutella and banana) and we each got a shot of limoncello for free from the bartender.  We waddled home to recover and finish our plans for tomorrow, which include seeing the tiny town where my grandfather grew up.    

Quote of the trip so far was from Zeph (my adorable son-in-law, who keeps talking in an Italian accent that makes him sound like one of the Mario Brothers): "After a bottle of wine, everything here makes sense."  Well put, my son, well put.  Let's endeavor to make sure that every day here makes sense!!

Ciao, my friends...

Hey! No Lagging!

It is morning in Florence.  I have been up since about six a.m., after going to bed a little before eight last night.  All three kids are still sleeping.

We had a long trip getting here.  Five minutes after pulling away from the gate at SFO, the pilot came on to say that the trim mechanism for the wings was not working properly, so we went back to the gate to get some necessary part replaced.  Takeoff was two hours late, and then a ten and a half hour flight to Frankfurt, being advised to "please hurry" to our connection, another hour long wait on the tarmac, a short hop to Florence, and there we were in the tiny Florence airport.  Now, all we had to do was call the apartment manager so he could meet us there to give us keys, etc.  hmmm...none of us had a phone.  No worries!  We will ask the information people where we can make a phone call. Hmmm...it is Sunday and the information desk is closed.  No worries!  There is a pay phone!  But how in the heck do we use it, and how many of the digits in this huge, long number I was given do we actually have to dial?  No worries!  We will just ask the taxi driver to make the call for us.  Out to the taxi line, and when our cab rolls up, I ask, "per favore, parla inglese?" and the driver says of course he speaks English, and all is well.  When we get close to the apartment, he calls the number and the meeting is arranged.  Then, we are dropped somewhere near the apartment, because there is a street fair going on and the cab cannot get to the address, and thank god the street names are posted on corner buildings, so we find our apartment and stand outside in the warm Tuscan sun waiting.

Half an hour later, a man rides up on a bicycle, cheerful as heck, parks his bike and shows us the apartment, tells us to keep windows closed because of Mosquitos, that we should feed the turtle in the garden if we have leftovers, not to feed the fish, gives us his card, and then tells the boys where the good bars with lots of women are.  I suspect he did not realize that Zeph is married to my daughter.  Then again, perhaps he did!

So, we walk around the nearby few blocks, and decide to go into a wine bar.  The proprietor asks us what we want, we tell him we have been traveling for almost an entire day, and he asks if we would like him to make us up an antipasti tray with some prosciutto, salami, cheese... He had me at "prosciutto".  With our bread comes a basket containing olive oil, balsamico, salt and pepper grinders.  Two bottles of wine later, we have managed to consume cold cuts, cheese, bread, some roast beef, green beans, and OHMYGAWD a sformata zucchini (like a zucchini mousse) with a Gorgonzola walnut cream sauce.  Oh yeah, and some sort of amazing chocolate cake with carmelized hazelnuts and a pavlova.  At this point, we have all been mostly awake for what seems like a week, we are full of Montepulciano wine, and we have a lovely apartment waiting for us.  A quick walk around the block to a grocer to buy water, and then home. To sleep.

This morning at 8:45, the bells on the church around the corner rang to call people to mass.  I was so tempted to go, but I have time.  For now, I will get dressed, wander outside, and see if I can find a cappuccino to take to the back garden.

Now...I wonder if I should wake these lazy kids up??