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....
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